Gone but not forgotten: Knoxville area restaurants and retailers we miss.

#3,057
#3,057
Ah, those late 70's- early 80's cheapo beers! I remember Busch - "Head for the mountains!" and Old Milwaukee. Let's not forget the later Milwaukee's Best. But these were all in that $1.99/6 range. And others.
 
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#3,062
#3,062
The Cat’s Meow was in an old house on the north side of Cumberland, west of 22nd street. Founder of Copper Cellar Corp., Mike Chase was a frequent customer. He hired away two of the bartenders, including Charles Irvine, who became a floor manager at the original Copper Cellar. When The Cat’s Meow closed (1976), they sold off furnishings and equipment. I still have the bar blender, a heavy glass pitcher, and a beer mug.
 
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#3,063
#3,063
Tin Man said:
The Cat’s Meow was in an old house on the north side of Cumberland, west of 22nd street. Founder of Copper Cellar Corp., Mike Chase was a frequent customer. He hired away two of the bartenders, including Charles Irvine, who became a floor manager at the original Copper Cellar. When The Cat’s Meow closed (1976), they sold off furnishings and equipment. I still have the bar blender, a heavy glass pitcher, and a beer mug.
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Thunder Good-Oil said:
It resembles a house but is now connected to the Stefano's building below that is a more commercial looking type of space fronting Cumberland Avenue. My guess is that the deck above Stefano's was added and the two buildings were stitched together. The former owner of Stefano's still owns the building(s). Rick Kuhlman might be his name. I think that the Ruby Tuesday side also had a patio enclosed by a brick wall adjacent to the alley that was later finished off as indoor space. There was some type of church or worship organization in there a month ago.

There was another house converted to a bar/restaurant about a block farther west called the Cat's Meow. The original house has been demolished and a Mrs. Winners was built on the spot iirc. There was also a Kentucky Fried Chicken somewhere in that vicinity... a gas station might have been built on that lot. Possibly at the NE corner of 23rd Street. IIRC the Cat's Meow sat on a small hill a little bit elevated above the strip. I never set foot in the Cat's Meow but I have a match book from there that my dad gave me.

I think that liquor-by-the-drink might have become legal at the same time that Ruby Tuesday and the Cat's Meow were established. Hard to believe that bars didn't exist in Knoxville 50 years ago. Maybe there was a lawful work around as private clubs (the Senator's Club on Alcoa Highway?). I don't know if hotels were exempt... Ramada Inn/Campus Inn/Sheraton/Hilton Garden were early bars in the 2 hotels on 17th Street 3 blocks apart.
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#3,066
#3,066
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#3,068
#3,068
#3,069
#3,069
HoptownVol said:
As their #1 customer, I miss this place the most. View attachment 648477
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Now I want a pigsburger

Found this article

Boxed Possum and Brother Jack’s​


One of the many necessities required by those working late into the night is knowledge of where to find great food after 2 a.m. Or food that is at least palatable.
When I was working at the Journal in the late ’60s, my usual guide was cohort Grady Amann, who seemed to be a regular at every dark-of-night hangout in Knox County. When the time came–2 a.m.–he would stop by my spot on the copy desk with a “Wanta scoff some grease?”
Grady was discerning when it came to food, whether it was fresh-picked corn “found” in a field in south Knox County, chili slaw dogs at Dis & Dat on Chapman Highway, or barbecue from Brother Jack’s.
Though Brother Jack specialized in barbecue, it’s probably more accurate to say he created food products made from pig parts. There were ribs and pulled pork, to be sure, but also on offer were pig burgers, hand-made ground-pork patties, grilled and stuck between two slices of white bread.
The meat could be had with chips and a cold soft drink. And hot sauce.
When Jack, a large black man, took your order, he would smile and say, “You want that hot, don’t you?” And then he would sauce it from a squeeze bottle, the contents his own recipe. And it was capital-H hot.
But the limited menu was not the only distinguishing aspect of Brother Jack’s. First, there was no sign telling the seeker that he had found it; second, the food was to-go only; and third, the place was open until 3 a.m. or so.
Brother Jack’s was on University Avenue, only about a mile from Fort Sanders and its population of UT students–but on the wrong side of the interstate. The proximity and the hours led to the place becoming popular as a late-night must for students. Just as getting drunk on prodigious amounts of beer at the Roman Room was a rite of passage, so were experiences at Brother Jack’s.
One popular stunt was taking a sorority-girl date to Brother Jack’s after a big dance, cautioning her about getting the sauce on her gown as you drove back to campus with a sack full of pig burgers.
In Real Barbecue, the definitive guide authored by Vince Staten and Greg Johnson, Staten recalls taking one date to Brother Jack’s and telling her to wait in the car while he went in to get a couple of sandwiches. She insisted that he give her the keys: “I’ll come back and pick you up in 10 minutes,” she said. “I’m not going to sit here, even with the car doors locked.”
I was with Staten when he visited the place in the early 1980s during research for the book–the only time either of us ever stopped there in daylight.
Sometimes, we would tease dates by telling them they were in for a treat–barbecued possum.
I had picked up possum lore at an early age. When I was about 10, my friends and I spotted a furry animal up a persimmon tree in a wooded lot near my home in Burlington. Someone in the group recognized it as a possum and said we should “shake” it down.
Our possum-savvy companion then climbed the tree to get to the limb where the animal was clinging and started shaking it. When the animal lost its grip and hit the ground, it appeared to be dead. And I learned the origin of the term “playing possum.” On a dare, I picked up the possum by the tail–only to be taken by surprise when it quickly curled back and tried to bite my hand.
Eventually, we managed to get it back to my house, where my dad was working in the yard.
“He’s not hurt,” he informed us. Then he got a cardboard box and we placed the possum inside. “Come on,” Dad said and we climbed into the station wagon, carefully placing the boxed possum in the back.
Three miles later, we stopped at the house of a black man my dad knew. “He’ll want it,” he said. The possum was transferred to its new owner, who then informed us that after it was fattened up it would make a fine meal.
On the trip back, Dad told us how the animal would be caged, then fed persimmons and table scraps until it was “eatin’ size.” Possum fattened on corn-bread, he added, was particularly tasty.
I never took the stories of Brother Jack’s serving possum seriously–until Grady told me about an experience he had with Brother Jack.
“Me and Danny West and Herschel Peek had gone in one night for pig burgers,” he said. “Jack said he wanted to show us something and motioned us behind the counter to his stove. There in a big roasting pan was a large animal cooking on low heat. Its head was still intact–all it needed was an apple in its mouth. We thought that the rumors were true. So I said, ‘That’s a big possum, Brother Jack.’
“He chuckled and said, ‘That’s no possum, that’s much better. That’s a raccoon’. But it ain’t ready yet–I’ll save you some if you want to come back tomorrow.”
“We laughed and told him we’d stick to rib sandwiches and pig burgers.”
“Of course,” Grady added with a grin, “Who knows what kind of meat he used to make the patties for the pig burgers? Maybe we’ve been eating possum and raccoon all along.”
 
#3,072
#3,072
MAD said:
Now I want a pigsburger

Found this article

Boxed Possum and Brother Jack’s​


One of the many necessities required by those working late into the night is knowledge of where to find great food after 2 a.m. Or food that is at least palatable.
When I was working at the Journal in the late ’60s, my usual guide was cohort Grady Amann, who seemed to be a regular at every dark-of-night hangout in Knox County. When the time came–2 a.m.–he would stop by my spot on the copy desk with a “Wanta scoff some grease?”
Grady was discerning when it came to food, whether it was fresh-picked corn “found” in a field in south Knox County, chili slaw dogs at Dis & Dat on Chapman Highway, or barbecue from Brother Jack’s.
Though Brother Jack specialized in barbecue, it’s probably more accurate to say he created food products made from pig parts. There were ribs and pulled pork, to be sure, but also on offer were pig burgers, hand-made ground-pork patties, grilled and stuck between two slices of white bread.
The meat could be had with chips and a cold soft drink. And hot sauce.
When Jack, a large black man, took your order, he would smile and say, “You want that hot, don’t you?” And then he would sauce it from a squeeze bottle, the contents his own recipe. And it was capital-H hot.
But the limited menu was not the only distinguishing aspect of Brother Jack’s. First, there was no sign telling the seeker that he had found it; second, the food was to-go only; and third, the place was open until 3 a.m. or so.
Brother Jack’s was on University Avenue, only about a mile from Fort Sanders and its population of UT students–but on the wrong side of the interstate. The proximity and the hours led to the place becoming popular as a late-night must for students. Just as getting drunk on prodigious amounts of beer at the Roman Room was a rite of passage, so were experiences at Brother Jack’s.
One popular stunt was taking a sorority-girl date to Brother Jack’s after a big dance, cautioning her about getting the sauce on her gown as you drove back to campus with a sack full of pig burgers.
In Real Barbecue, the definitive guide authored by Vince Staten and Greg Johnson, Staten recalls taking one date to Brother Jack’s and telling her to wait in the car while he went in to get a couple of sandwiches. She insisted that he give her the keys: “I’ll come back and pick you up in 10 minutes,” she said. “I’m not going to sit here, even with the car doors locked.”
I was with Staten when he visited the place in the early 1980s during research for the book–the only time either of us ever stopped there in daylight.
Sometimes, we would tease dates by telling them they were in for a treat–barbecued possum.
I had picked up possum lore at an early age. When I was about 10, my friends and I spotted a furry animal up a persimmon tree in a wooded lot near my home in Burlington. Someone in the group recognized it as a possum and said we should “shake” it down.
Our possum-savvy companion then climbed the tree to get to the limb where the animal was clinging and started shaking it. When the animal lost its grip and hit the ground, it appeared to be dead. And I learned the origin of the term “playing possum.” On a dare, I picked up the possum by the tail–only to be taken by surprise when it quickly curled back and tried to bite my hand.
Eventually, we managed to get it back to my house, where my dad was working in the yard.
“He’s not hurt,” he informed us. Then he got a cardboard box and we placed the possum inside. “Come on,” Dad said and we climbed into the station wagon, carefully placing the boxed possum in the back.
Three miles later, we stopped at the house of a black man my dad knew. “He’ll want it,” he said. The possum was transferred to its new owner, who then informed us that after it was fattened up it would make a fine meal.
On the trip back, Dad told us how the animal would be caged, then fed persimmons and table scraps until it was “eatin’ size.” Possum fattened on corn-bread, he added, was particularly tasty.
I never took the stories of Brother Jack’s serving possum seriously–until Grady told me about an experience he had with Brother Jack.
“Me and Danny West and Herschel Peek had gone in one night for pig burgers,” he said. “Jack said he wanted to show us something and motioned us behind the counter to his stove. There in a big roasting pan was a large animal cooking on low heat. Its head was still intact–all it needed was an apple in its mouth. We thought that the rumors were true. So I said, ‘That’s a big possum, Brother Jack.’
“He chuckled and said, ‘That’s no possum, that’s much better. That’s a raccoon’. But it ain’t ready yet–I’ll save you some if you want to come back tomorrow.”
“We laughed and told him we’d stick to rib sandwiches and pig burgers.”
“Of course,” Grady added with a grin, “Who knows what kind of meat he used to make the patties for the pig burgers? Maybe we’ve been eating possum and raccoon all along.”
Click to expand...

Lots of technical errors in this article, however. Yeah the rumor was that Tip would drive around the neighborhood in his big Mercury and had a couple of kids that would hop out of the trunk with baseball bats to stun cats, dogs, etc basically any kind of critter to throw on the pit. He did have one day a year when people would bring him possums and raccoon to roast.... Halloween. I rarely missed a Halloween visit and did manage to choke down some coon one year along with BBQ'd bear, the bear was very tasty. But I was addicted to pigsburgers, and I've helped Tip make the things. His wife (Momma) hated me, I suspect she hated most UT students but that didn't keep me from getting his secret ingredient for the Screamin' sauce.
 
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#3,073
#3,073
Does anyone remember the burger place (similar to a modern day Checkers) that was across from West Town mall? I worked at the West Town Mall Theater (an Cedar Bluff) and eat there all the time. Great burgers,.
 
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#3,074
#3,074
HoptownVol said:
Lots of technical errors in this article, however. Yeah the rumor was that Tip would drive around the neighborhood in his big Mercury and had a couple of kids that would hop out of the trunk with baseball bats to stun cats, dogs, etc basically any kind of critter to throw on the pit. He did have one day a year when people would bring him possums and raccoon to roast.... Halloween. I rarely missed a Halloween visit and did manage to choke down some coon one year along with BBQ'd bear, the bear was very tasty. But I was addicted to pigsburgers, and I've helped Tip make the things. His wife (Momma) hated me, I suspect she hated most UT students but that didn't keep me from getting his secret ingredient for the Screamin' sauce.
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I was never there early enough to meet momma.
Wasn't there a honky tonk next door to Jack's and I can remember taking a date or two into it as they did not want to sit in the car and wait. Driving around in that neighborhood seems to be more dangerous than entering Jacks.
 
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#3,075
#3,075
tomq_123 said:
Does anyone remember the burger place (similar to a modern day Checkers) that was across from West Town mall? I worked at the West Town Mall Theater (an Cedar Bluff) and eat there all the time. Great burgers,.
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Jerry’s Restaurant wasn’t burgers but was across from West Town at Montvue. It was kind of like a Howard Johnson’s (NW corner of Kingston Pike/Northshore (east of Weisgarber).

I forget what those little drive-in only places were called. Central Park sounds right. There was one near the eastern entrance to West Hills that’s been a Petro’s for a while now. I think that there was another one in the shopping center at the NE corner of Morrell/Kingston Pike.
 
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