5 Dives: Casper's

Casper’s is one of those experiences that epitomizes our town. When we describe it to friends, we say, “It’s one of those hole-in-the-wall places that takes itself literally – there are holes in the wall.” And at the risk of an irresponsible statement, we go on to say, “And the chili must be laced with crack, because it is addictive.”

Drive by Walnut and Main any weekday, starting about 11:30 a.m., and you can watch the line grow outside. People talk to each other as they wait. In fact, they even invite strangers to share a table so that more people can be seated quickly. If an invitation isn’t extended, owner Belinda Harriman will suggest it on one of her many visits to check on the patient patrons.

Harriman has owned Casper’s since 1985. “I’m the owner unless there is trouble, and then I tell them the owner’s not here,” she quips.

While waiting, we strike up a conversation with Springfieldian Bob Crowe, a Casper’s regular since he was 16. “I grew up here, went in the Army, retired from the railroad and have been coming to Casper’s since they were on Glenstone,” he says. In fact, he says it was part of the “Springfield triangle,” along with Steak n Shake on St. Louis and Fisher’s Hi-Boy on Kearney. He visits Casper’s twice a week for a cheeseburger and bowl of chili, “just like I used to get.”

Dick Collier is another regular visitor, starting back in the day when he had the cigarette vending machine contract for Casper’s, Coley’s, Goodwin’s Bar and a few other notable restaurants. “Casper Lederer owned it, and his son did the hams,” Collier recalls. “They sliced every sandwich fresh.” Although Collier says he always orders the chili and a hamburger, a ham sandwich is still on the menu for $2.85.

Our college-student son, a Casper’s aficionado, heavily advocates the hamburger, so Paul goes for it. I stick with my own addiction, the $4.50 Frito pie with onions.

Harriman knows the famous story of Casper’s original chili recipe (getting lost in the trash, then resurfacing) has been retold so often it’s local legend, and assures us that the recipe is safely copied in several places. “I don’t know where I put the one in (Casper’s) writing,” she frets, “but I know it’s at home somewhere.”

The desserts vary from day to day; today Harriman is offering pineapple upside-down cake, lemon meringue pie and chocolate cake. She tells one customer, “I promise you on my reputation that it’s good, and if you don’t like my reputation, we’ll think of something else!” We go for the chocolate cake, and her reputation remains intact.

Payment at Casper’s – cash only – is more or less on the honor system. As you leave, simply walk up to the cash register and Harriman asks, “What’d ya have?”

Casper’s closes on the Friday before Memorial Day each year and reopens the Monday after Labor Day. On the final day of “chili season,” Casper’s closes when the food is gone – generally way before the 4 p.m. sign on the door. In 2007, that meant right about 12:30 p.m., when the last hamburger was sold and they had scraped the barrel of the chili pot. Harriman was apologetic but firm to the line outside the door: “Come back in the fall.”

We know. We were there.

Casper’s

Address: 601 W. Walnut St. (at Main Avenue)

Phone: (417) 866-9750

Hours: 10:30 a.m.–4 p.m. Monday through Friday

Known for: Chili and saltines on the table inside a World War II-era Quonset hut

Seating: Seven bar stools and about 20 seats at tables and booths

Décor: Ranges from stained glass to torn posters to piñatas; liberal primary colors and splattered paint

Clientele: Regulars who all know each other and know what they want to eat

Dress: Suits to overalls

Payment: Cash only, and on the honor system: “What’d ya have?”

Paul K. Logsdon is director of public relations and publications for Evangel University, and Kay Logsdon is director of the Food Channel for Noble. They have written restaurant reviews for 25 years.