Theresa Garrison left Monroe in 1971 to become a waitress at the Norseman's Supper Club in Argyle. Back then, when the place first opened, she was one of three servers scrambling about to serve a gathering that was dedicated, consistent and on a first-name basis.
"We'd have as many as 200," she said of the crowd. "When they came in, I'd tell them what drink they wanted and what they wanted to eat."
She said knew about 80 percent of the names on a busy night. On a slow night?
"Well, there were none. But let's say there were 30, and I would know 29. Before the night was done I would make sure I knew No. 30," she said.
Today, the classic supper club on Mineral Point Road is down to just one waitress, it being Garrison.
It's also for sale.
"I would be sad," Garrison, who has been through five different owners, said of the prospect of club closing. "It's the kind of setting I like. People always say, "I can't believe you're not busy.'"
But that's exactly the case for more and more supper-club throwbacks in Wisconsin - the state that put them on the map.
Recent research by Foodspot.com reports the number of Wisconsin restaurants using the word "supper club" in their title is down to about 450.
In their heyday of the 1950s through the 1970s, the number was in the thousands and they were unstoppable.
Maybe hard to define, you certainly knew when you were in one.
You were on a county road leading out of town. The bar was packed full of brandy old-fashioned disciples, the menu was endless, and a musical duo serenaded the clientele.
A relish tray sat upon a table sporting a vinyl table cloth. Sometimes, the relish tray could literally rotate upon a lazy susan.
Then there was the basket of breadsticks and crackers, cheese and butter spreads at its side.
The dark lighting would only allow you to assume all was in order, but through repetition you knew so.
The din of conversation was deafening, and the owner was in the spotlight, pumping hands like a politician.
"That's what was difficult, having to be there every night," said Dan Blum, son of a restaurant family in Monroe that ran Baker's Maple Grove Inn on Old Argyle Road on the city's north side between 1983 and 2007. "They come there to see YOU. If I took a night off, I'd hear, "I was there last night. Where were you?'
"That's the part that's a grind. And it was 23 years - that was enough."
With its older demographic and focus on tradition, one would think Monroe would have supper clubs in mass. When Baker's closed, there were none left and there are still none that fit the mold of the traditional supper club.
•••
The supper club era has undeniably taken a hit. The patrons are getting older, the chains have taken over, and diners have changed.
Russ and Nadine Brown realized that with their first foray into the restaurant business, opening Pancho and Lefty's on the Monroe Square in 2009. They are students of the business and recently visited a few area supper clubs to get a feel for their yesteryear competition. What they saw were huge rooms and huge menus.
"We learned it's important to limit your menu to what you're good at, and stick with that," Russ Brown said. "People are much more sophisticated about dining, much more informed. And they care about their dollar. They want an experience they can count on."
As for the sprawling supper-club setting, the Browns also learned a smaller setting makes for a more intimate, if not exclusive, experience. They are willing to stomach the idea that sometimes people can't get in, knowing it shows a demand.
Blum, meanwhile, recalls his restaurant's menu being 30 pages long. "We had everything, like five or six types of steak, you name it. We even had Asian food," he said. "It was stressful to make sure you found a way to use all those groceries."
Meanwhile, as the business slowed in its later days, Blum featured it as a banquet hall.
"That's how big it was," he said.
•••
Back in the day, the bar was everything.
"I remember telling people their table is ready, and they'd say "Give us another 20 minutes' as they chatted at the bar," Blum said. "That was where the money was at."
Mike Brotzman's Country Heights Supper Club sits in Grant County 11 miles west of Hazel Green - the definition of nowhere - and is feeling a big hit at the bar.
"It's nothing like it used to be," he said. "It's now like a detriment. People don't want to drive and drink, especially with the drinking laws."
Ed Lump is the state's president and CEO of its Bar and Restaurant Association, based in Madison, and he says the bar is a big wildcard for the supper clubs.
"The public is more interested in the modern touches, such as tap beers and craft beers. Or a wine list, or some of the unique mixology drinks. In the old days, you couldn't order a tap beer at a supper club. It was about the hard-liquor drinks," he said.
He emphasizes that less is more if the supper clubs want to stay alive.
"Don't emphasize quantity but quality," Lump said. "You don't need the 32-ounce prime rib - people want the 8-ounce. It's about taste, not the size of the portion.
"And think about modern diets. Not everyone wants all-you-can-eat."
•••
Getting younger is a challenge in this business. Brotzman is taking it on, however, by establishing a Facebook presence in order to not attract new customers but highlight his specials.
"I've only been doing it for four to five weeks, but we're seeing results," he said. "My customers typically range between 50 and 80 (years of age) and once they die off we don't see nearly as many replacing them.
"But I am seeing some younger people who say they didn't know anything about us. Then they ask why no one is here."
On the flip side, Mark Barnaby of New Glarus is actually banking on the older crowd - at least in theory.
The Monticello House, a longtime local standby in Monticello, closed six years ago and Barnaby brought it back to life last weekend with a dining-room grand opening that he said filled a void for his town's residents.
"It was either five-star dining or bar food," he said. "There was no in between. And the community told me I was filling a void - I was reopening a place where they'd go for conversation. To see everyone they knew."
Instead of being tempted to go the standard sports-bar route synonymous with today's restaurants, Barnaby instead went retro.
"No TVs, no WiFi," he said. "People said they love it - that they can actually get away from all of that.
"I keep the lights dim and play the Rat Pack (Sinatra era) music, the Brian Setzer (big-band era) music, but not too loud. I realize that a night at the Monticello House was the night to go out and talk to people. I want to bring that back.
"It's such a different business these days with so many options for people, but don't forget they still want nostalgia. And I got people from all age groups talking about how much that means. I think I've brought a place to socialize back to this town."
Beyond the theme, Barnaby embraced an approach that he said will keep him alive, literally, as he has brought in Shannon Sheflia, owner of the successful Garbriella's restaurant in Albany, to operate in the Monticello House as well.
"I know nothing about the restaurant business," Barnaby said. "But I have seen the toll it takes on people, especially those who own supper clubs."
He is keeping the supper-club classics in place, like couches and a fire place.
"It's like you're in someone's living room," he said.
Lump thinks it is the right approach for those hoping to rekindle the supper-club theme.
"There has been a resurrection," he said. "People yearn for that nostalgia and there will be an evolution.
"The key is that so many are family owned and they can't just change the carpet over two generations. That won't cut it anymore."
•••
Back in Argyle at Norseman's, owner Scott Argue is hanging on to the tradition in which he invested 15 years ago.
"This place can't close down, no matter who takes over," he said. "It will never become a used-car lot."
He eliminated the live music a few years back, but stays true to the traditional Friday fish fry and Saturday prime rib.
However, he is not open Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. He said the town hasn't grown beyond 800 residents since he started and some competition has moved in. And his clientele has become inconsistent.
"One night it's all local people and the next it's out-of-towners," Argue said. "It's hard to tell what to expect."
He said the economic downturn of 2007 was the real dagger, but even before that a bad omen loomed.
"The very day of our first anniversary, the Twin Towers went down," he said.
Still, he points to Garrison, his devoted server, as a symbol for hope.
"She's been here since the place opened," Argue said. "That should tell you something. There's real admiration for this place."
"We'd have as many as 200," she said of the crowd. "When they came in, I'd tell them what drink they wanted and what they wanted to eat."
She said knew about 80 percent of the names on a busy night. On a slow night?
"Well, there were none. But let's say there were 30, and I would know 29. Before the night was done I would make sure I knew No. 30," she said.
Today, the classic supper club on Mineral Point Road is down to just one waitress, it being Garrison.
It's also for sale.
"I would be sad," Garrison, who has been through five different owners, said of the prospect of club closing. "It's the kind of setting I like. People always say, "I can't believe you're not busy.'"
But that's exactly the case for more and more supper-club throwbacks in Wisconsin - the state that put them on the map.
Recent research by Foodspot.com reports the number of Wisconsin restaurants using the word "supper club" in their title is down to about 450.
In their heyday of the 1950s through the 1970s, the number was in the thousands and they were unstoppable.
Maybe hard to define, you certainly knew when you were in one.
You were on a county road leading out of town. The bar was packed full of brandy old-fashioned disciples, the menu was endless, and a musical duo serenaded the clientele.
A relish tray sat upon a table sporting a vinyl table cloth. Sometimes, the relish tray could literally rotate upon a lazy susan.
Then there was the basket of breadsticks and crackers, cheese and butter spreads at its side.
The dark lighting would only allow you to assume all was in order, but through repetition you knew so.
The din of conversation was deafening, and the owner was in the spotlight, pumping hands like a politician.
"That's what was difficult, having to be there every night," said Dan Blum, son of a restaurant family in Monroe that ran Baker's Maple Grove Inn on Old Argyle Road on the city's north side between 1983 and 2007. "They come there to see YOU. If I took a night off, I'd hear, "I was there last night. Where were you?'
"That's the part that's a grind. And it was 23 years - that was enough."
With its older demographic and focus on tradition, one would think Monroe would have supper clubs in mass. When Baker's closed, there were none left and there are still none that fit the mold of the traditional supper club.
•••
The supper club era has undeniably taken a hit. The patrons are getting older, the chains have taken over, and diners have changed.
Russ and Nadine Brown realized that with their first foray into the restaurant business, opening Pancho and Lefty's on the Monroe Square in 2009. They are students of the business and recently visited a few area supper clubs to get a feel for their yesteryear competition. What they saw were huge rooms and huge menus.
"We learned it's important to limit your menu to what you're good at, and stick with that," Russ Brown said. "People are much more sophisticated about dining, much more informed. And they care about their dollar. They want an experience they can count on."
As for the sprawling supper-club setting, the Browns also learned a smaller setting makes for a more intimate, if not exclusive, experience. They are willing to stomach the idea that sometimes people can't get in, knowing it shows a demand.
Blum, meanwhile, recalls his restaurant's menu being 30 pages long. "We had everything, like five or six types of steak, you name it. We even had Asian food," he said. "It was stressful to make sure you found a way to use all those groceries."
Meanwhile, as the business slowed in its later days, Blum featured it as a banquet hall.
"That's how big it was," he said.
•••
Back in the day, the bar was everything.
"I remember telling people their table is ready, and they'd say "Give us another 20 minutes' as they chatted at the bar," Blum said. "That was where the money was at."
Mike Brotzman's Country Heights Supper Club sits in Grant County 11 miles west of Hazel Green - the definition of nowhere - and is feeling a big hit at the bar.
"It's nothing like it used to be," he said. "It's now like a detriment. People don't want to drive and drink, especially with the drinking laws."
Ed Lump is the state's president and CEO of its Bar and Restaurant Association, based in Madison, and he says the bar is a big wildcard for the supper clubs.
"The public is more interested in the modern touches, such as tap beers and craft beers. Or a wine list, or some of the unique mixology drinks. In the old days, you couldn't order a tap beer at a supper club. It was about the hard-liquor drinks," he said.
He emphasizes that less is more if the supper clubs want to stay alive.
"Don't emphasize quantity but quality," Lump said. "You don't need the 32-ounce prime rib - people want the 8-ounce. It's about taste, not the size of the portion.
"And think about modern diets. Not everyone wants all-you-can-eat."
•••
Getting younger is a challenge in this business. Brotzman is taking it on, however, by establishing a Facebook presence in order to not attract new customers but highlight his specials.
"I've only been doing it for four to five weeks, but we're seeing results," he said. "My customers typically range between 50 and 80 (years of age) and once they die off we don't see nearly as many replacing them.
"But I am seeing some younger people who say they didn't know anything about us. Then they ask why no one is here."
On the flip side, Mark Barnaby of New Glarus is actually banking on the older crowd - at least in theory.
The Monticello House, a longtime local standby in Monticello, closed six years ago and Barnaby brought it back to life last weekend with a dining-room grand opening that he said filled a void for his town's residents.
"It was either five-star dining or bar food," he said. "There was no in between. And the community told me I was filling a void - I was reopening a place where they'd go for conversation. To see everyone they knew."
Instead of being tempted to go the standard sports-bar route synonymous with today's restaurants, Barnaby instead went retro.
"No TVs, no WiFi," he said. "People said they love it - that they can actually get away from all of that.
"I keep the lights dim and play the Rat Pack (Sinatra era) music, the Brian Setzer (big-band era) music, but not too loud. I realize that a night at the Monticello House was the night to go out and talk to people. I want to bring that back.
"It's such a different business these days with so many options for people, but don't forget they still want nostalgia. And I got people from all age groups talking about how much that means. I think I've brought a place to socialize back to this town."
Beyond the theme, Barnaby embraced an approach that he said will keep him alive, literally, as he has brought in Shannon Sheflia, owner of the successful Garbriella's restaurant in Albany, to operate in the Monticello House as well.
"I know nothing about the restaurant business," Barnaby said. "But I have seen the toll it takes on people, especially those who own supper clubs."
He is keeping the supper-club classics in place, like couches and a fire place.
"It's like you're in someone's living room," he said.
Lump thinks it is the right approach for those hoping to rekindle the supper-club theme.
"There has been a resurrection," he said. "People yearn for that nostalgia and there will be an evolution.
"The key is that so many are family owned and they can't just change the carpet over two generations. That won't cut it anymore."
•••
Back in Argyle at Norseman's, owner Scott Argue is hanging on to the tradition in which he invested 15 years ago.
"This place can't close down, no matter who takes over," he said. "It will never become a used-car lot."
He eliminated the live music a few years back, but stays true to the traditional Friday fish fry and Saturday prime rib.
However, he is not open Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. He said the town hasn't grown beyond 800 residents since he started and some competition has moved in. And his clientele has become inconsistent.
"One night it's all local people and the next it's out-of-towners," Argue said. "It's hard to tell what to expect."
He said the economic downturn of 2007 was the real dagger, but even before that a bad omen loomed.
"The very day of our first anniversary, the Twin Towers went down," he said.
Still, he points to Garrison, his devoted server, as a symbol for hope.
"She's been here since the place opened," Argue said. "That should tell you something. There's real admiration for this place."