Editor’s note: In an effort to support local businesses that are being threatened by the devastating effects of the coronavirus, The Athletic is publishing an ongoing series of stories to highlight our treasured communities. #supportlocal. This story originally was published as part of The Athletic‘s Sept. 2019 buffet of stories on food and college football, The Spread.
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COLUMBIA, Mo. — Do you want a plate at Booches? You’re out of luck. Your burger comes on wax paper. Hoping for ketchup on the side? Too bad. It goes straight on the patty. Trying to pay with a credit card? Sorry. Cash only. You can find an ATM a few doors down.
You’re free to dislike how Booches goes about its business, but it’s not changing, and most people don’t want it to. It opened in 1884 as a tobacco and billiards hall and has been in its current location since the late 1920s, serving burgers since at least the 1940s.
The quarter-pound patties are a Columbia staple. The place is hopping on Mizzou football Saturdays, so if you want a pregame bite, arrive early. Co-owner Rick Robertson said Booches will sling up to 1,200 burgers on game day, and he’s seen hour-long waits to get in the door.
Walking into Booches gives you a taste of the past with modernity sprinkled throughout. There’s a bar with a few TVs if you want to catch a game, but you won’t be overwhelmed with screens. Black and white photos cover the walls next to the hall’s six pool tables, all over a century old, and classic rock plays overhead — just not too loud.
“You’ve got to get out, talk to some people, socialize,” said Robertson, 64, who has co-owned Booches with Charlie Kurre since 2004. “That’s why I don’t like any loud music in here. It’s already loud enough in here when it’s busy. I don’t want to have people have to scream with somebody to have a conversation.”
Booches is nearing 100 years at its 9th Street location in Columbia, Mo. (Hunter Dyke for The Athletic)You can see the Booches grill as you walk past the front window on Ninth Street. It’s not big, a 39-by-16 inch flattop installed in the late 1970s, but it’s capable of magic that would make Hogwarts proud. The burgers, bigger than a slider but smaller than a normal burger, look simple enough when they’re served, but they have the right amount of juice and, if you add onions and pickles, the perfect crunch. Booches uses Sara Lee buns, which they switched to after a nearby Hostess plant closed in 2012, and brings in fresh meat daily from Moser Foods. You’ll want more than one. Trust me.
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“I wish I could tell you some secret or something like that, but it’s just everything’s fresh, cooked to order,” Robertson said. “And there’s a lot of love put into it.”
Booche’s, named after original owner Paul Blucher “Booch” Venable, didn’t have a sign out front before the 1980s, according to Jerry Dethrow, an owner from 1976-2004. But people around town knew where it was. Word of mouth goes a long way.
Folk singer Arlo Guthrie has been there, which made Robertson feel “like a little girl seeing the Beatles for the first time,” and he said St. Louis Cardinals hero David Freese, the 2011 World Series MVP, has come through. Senior linebacker Cale Garrett, a Missouri captain, is also a fan.
“I just like the whole kind of tavern feel,” said Kurt Kitson, 50, a Booches regular for over two decades. “It’s a nice place to hang out, have a couple burgers and watch a ballgame.”
Klitson, who orders his burger with all offered toppings — cheese, ketchup, mustard, pickles and onions — added that Booches has the best air conditioning in town, perfect for muggy Missouri summers. It’s his favorite place in Columbia, and he often comes in to watch day baseball games.
A Booches burger is seven bites of joy. (Hunter Dyke for The Athletic)It takes seven normal-sized bites to get through a Booches cheeseburger. Each one costs $4.25, which isn’t bad for a few bites of heaven. The cheese, a white American-Swiss blend, is melty and flavorful but not overwhelming. There’s definitely grease in the burgers, but not too much. It’s not your typical greasy hangover cure, but word is it still does the trick.
While Booches offers a glimpse into past generations, it’s modernized in plenty of ways, and there’s a dark aspect of its history. Like many local businesses, Booches did not seat black people during the period of racial segregation, and women were also barred until the early 1970s, a few years before Dethrow took over.
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Now anyone is welcome, Robertson said, as long as they pay with cash. Townies and students frequent the billiard hall.
It’s unclear when Booches started serving burgers. The restaurant has a picture from the 1940s that shows the grill, meaning it was serving the beloved patties by then. Dethrow said they’ve also found an ad from the early 1900s that mentions food, but not burgers specifically.
The menu now also features chili, wurst and a Reuben, though Robertson says to avoid that sandwich when it’s busy — it takes up a lot of grill space. There’s soup on Fridays, which Kitson recommends. Vegetarian options are limited: You can buy either an egg or a grilled cheese for $2.50. And if you want fries, you’re out of luck. There’s not enough space.
“Besides, French fries are deep fried,” Robertson said with a smile. “And we kind of like to think we’re a health food restaurant.”
Not far from the bar, a wall sign lists three of the billiard hall’s tenets: Feasting, imbibing and debauchery. “No sniveling!” another sign reads.
Booches co-owner Robertson started working at the restaurant in 1993. (Hunter Dyke for The Athletic)It’s a place where you can pound a couple burgers or sip beer with friends, one for first dates and weekly catch-ups. Robertson has even seen engagements there. One Christmas Eve, he saw a man take a knee right outside the front door and propose. She said yes.
“There’s always romance in the air here,” he said.
On the wall near the bar, a collection of gold, metal plaques commemorate Booches regulars who have passed away. Tom Gray, who died in 2016, was a frequent billiard player, and his plaque is engraved with his trademark phrase — “I’m playing my heart out here!” — that he’d shout when he missed a key shot. Hank Hartley’s features his often-repeated call for a beer: “How about a cool one, momma?”
They’re a nod to the place’s history, a recognition of a town’s love for a classic venue and its small, juicy hamburgers.
(Top photo: Hunter Dyke for The Athletic)
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