Arthur Bryant's - Now That's Barbeque!

I grew up on Kansas City barbeque. Arthur Bryant’s and Gates were definitely the big one’s, but there were a few other’s as well. There was this place in Claycomo right across from the Ford plant. I never got to go in that place, and always had to wait in the car. I’m sure it was a bar. Later on, I was introduced to 7th Street, Winslow's in the City Market, and a few others.

When I left Kansas City in the early 70's, Arthur Bryant’s was definitely my favorite. I loved going in there and ordering a beef or ham sandwich and french fries. The sandwich was a buck and a half and the fries were a quarter more. That guy behind the counter had been there all my life and had the deepest voice I ever heard as he would repeat the order loud enough for the girl at the cash register to hear.

I loved watching him make my sandwich. He’d take a slice of white bread and throw it down in front of him on the counter. Then he’s start slicing the beef or ham. He would pile it on so that the bottom piece of bread would completely disappear. It had to be over a pound of meat. Then he’d grab that paint brush from the square stainless steel bowl and slosh the sauce on top of the meat. Oh, that sauce. He’d slap another piece of bread on top, pick up a big butcher knife and cut the whole thing in half. He’d then pick up the whole thing using both hands and place it on a plate. He’d split it into a wedge configuration so there would be plenty of room for the fries. He’d grab those big stainless steel tongs that were in the pickle jar and grab about a half dozen pickles and drop them on the plate beside the sandwich. He throw those tongs back in the pickle jar, grab the plate, then spin around where another set of tongs awaited. They were next to the deep fat fryers where the fries were waiting. Not just any fries but ones made from huge potatoes that had been washed but not peeled before being cut into fries. He’d fill the rest of the plate with the fries and most times covered half the sandwich. He’d then place the plate next to the cashier where I would grab it and head for the table my mom had already picked out.

My Mom usually picked a place close to the front window. That’s the front window where those huge five gallon jugs sat. The one’s full of sauce. My Grandpa told me once that at the old place, some guys were pitchin’ pennies and one of the pennies hit one of those jugs just right and shattered it. He said there was a big mess and penny pitchin’ was no longer allowed.

Our table was nothing special, except they were square and seated four. So, with a big family Mom had already pulled two together. Those tables had a metal band around the edge to hold down the formica or whatever covered the top. The chairs were vinyl covered with chrome metal frames.

I always tried to get a spot with my back against the wall. From there I could see the whole place. Straight across on the other wall were two “pop” machines. I don’t know what else was in there, but I always got an RC. Sixteen ounces for just a dime.

Next to the soda machines was a door that took you into another dining room if the place was crowded. Above that doorway was a framed picture. The picture was actually a split drawing. On the left was a skinny guy looking very distraught at a desk. Under him were the words “I sold on credit.” The other side was a well dressed rich looking man with a big cigar. Under him “I sold for cash only.”

Then came the best part of the whole visit. Biting into that sandwich. It just melted in your mouth, beef or ham. Plus that sauce was so good, you had to add more. There was always more in those plastic squeeze bottles. It was all so delicious!

Now the history of the place is something. Apparently, there was a guy named Henry Perry who had opened the bbq restaurant in the 20's in the 18th and Vine area. He hired Charlie Bryant. Charlie’s brother Arthur came to town from Texas to visit and never left. Charlie brought him in. There was another guy working there named Arthur Pinkard. Pinkard would later go on to helping George Gates open Gates and Son BBQ in 1946.

When Perry died in 1940, Charlie took over the restaurant. When Charlie died Arthur took over. The old restaurant was somewhere around 19th and Lydia. I remember when we went there in my Dad’s 53 Dodge that you had to go up this real steep hill and then make a hard left. Cresting that hill and making that left gave ya that roller coaster feeling in your tummy and a little below the belt as well.

In 1958, Arthur moved the restaurant just down the street from the ball park where the Kansas City A’s played. The restaurant is still there at 18th and Brooklyn.

Over the years, I’ve returned to Kansas City and every time I do, there’s a couple places I have to go. One of them is Arthur Bryant’s. It’s still the best Barbeque in town.