Anyone seen the King lately? You know, King Gambrinus? The man we need to thank for beer?
Back in 2016, I captured the above video. It used to be a daily event, each 6.p.m., at the recreated anachronistic facade at 16 West Randolph in Chicago.
It was originally Old Heidelberg, opened in 1934 - at a time when one in five Chicagoans were of German descent - after the immigrant from Stuttgart Eitel Brothers had built the massive block housing the Bismarck Hotel (now Hotel Allegro), Palace Theater, and Metropolitan Office Building tower, and after they had run a massive, and massively successful cafe at Chicago's 1933-34 Century of Progress exposition. Seating up to 3,500, it was built on the site of the short-lived Randolph Theatre and designed by Graham, Anderson, Probst & White with an interior emulating a traditional Bavarian beer cellar.
The attic was home to a whimsical statute, reportedly created by Edgar Miller, of legendary King Gambrinus, paramour of Ancient Egypt's Isis, from whom he learned the art of brewing and invented beer. Every half hour, the doors would open, and the King would emerge to the sound of chimes playing popular songs, after which he would retreat behind the closing doors until his next scheduled appearance.
Offering a comfortably upscale menu of grilled, sauteed and boiled meats, along with imported German wines, the restaurant enjoyed great success drawing patrons from the many theatres and movie palaces along Randolph and State. As television began its decimation of movie attendance, the Eitels sold the place in 1951 to Allgauers. In 1963 it began its long run as Ronny's Steak Palace, where you could buy a T-bone, ribs, or pork chops, baked potato and salad for a price that didn't break the bank. Servers asked if you wanted corn-on the-cob with your meal, and it turned out to be another $1.19. Pickles also cost extra.
There was no Ronny. One of the owners had intended the name for his first-born son, but his wife only gave birth to daughters. In 1997, the Tribune called Ronny's the "temple of tenderized t-bone." For filming of his 1991 pic "Curley Sue", director John Hughes bequeathed Ronny's eight large wall murals by Louise Moorman depicting "an imaginary history of meat." As described by The Reader's Neal Pollack in a loving 1998 portrait...
cavemen munch on a hind shank; Mao Tse-tung shares beef chop suey with Dick and Pat Nixon; Mikhail Gorbachev treats Ron and Nancy Reagan to steak tartare...
(Anyone got pictures?).
 |
| photo courtesy @DeCryptKeeper |
Long before, the interior had grown more 70's funky. It was split in two to also sell pizza. The upstairs banquet room was transformed into a discotheque called the AM Funk Factory. On prom nights, limos would pull up and the place was packed. Near the end, though, it's eccentric final owner Herman Munic struggled to keep things together - $2.99 specials versus 80 code violations after the health inspectors came by,
Ronny's closed and moved to new, far more elegant - and no longer extant - digs at the Thompson Center after the building was acquired and demolished for Booth/Hansen's 40-foot 17-story extension to the new Art Institute dormitory being constructed at the corner of State.
 |
| photograph courtesy John P. Keating, Jr. |
At the city's urging, the Old Heidelberg's facade was preserved and reconstructed as a venue for Noble Fool comedy theater, which closed after just two years, to be succeeded by an Argo Tea flagship in 2006. Closed 2013.
The building remained empty until Blick Art Materials took it over in October of 2022. It still survives today, although under a new threat from a massive Barnes & Noble which opened last month just next door.
So we come back to King Gambrinus. I haven't made a specific 6:00 trip, but I'm thinking he's been stuck back in the closet for some time now. If I'm wrong, and you've made a sighting, please let me know. His appearances were one of those small things that give a city life and character.
###
