Now a little slice of news about a great Southern cook whose life is very different after the events of the past few days. I hope you’ll find it refreshing that I’m not writing about Paula Deen. Yes, I have an opinion about that mega-controversy, although until recently she wasn’t really on my radar. Fortunately, since I don’t host a talk show and I don’t get paid to rile people up, I get to keep that to myself!
Thankfully, the Southern cook of whom I speak is named Yvonne Williams, and chances are you’ve never heard of her. Even if you’re among her biggest fans, or customers, you know her as “Miss Von” or maybe just “Von.” She’s that quiet lady at the Long Horn in north Chattanooga, who has been whipping up Western Omelettes, fluffy biscuits and truly juicy (not over-hyped) burgers since you were a kid. Maybe since your dad was a kid.
On the day this photo was taken, it was lunch time, so I opted for a cheeseburger. Does it look good? It melted in my mouth. But I love her most of all because she would concoct my favorite breakfast plate, which isn’t even on the menu. I’d say, “How about a couple of eggs over light, on two slices of toast with melted cheese and ham?” I don’t think there’s even a name for that, but five minutes later I was in breakfast heaven.
The Long Horn (not to be confused with the Longhorn steakhouse chain) was Miss Von’s first employer, on McCallie Avenue in 1960. The 20-year-old needed a job, and boy did she ever find one. Although that location would later close, she transferred to the diner on north Market Street, across from the North Chattanooga Post Office. For 53 years, she’s been on her feet from early in the morning to the middle of the afternoon, rarely taking a break. And by that I mean, showing up early, staying late, and not calling in sick. Her co-workers weren’t kidding when they asked me, “How do you replace that?” Indeed, ask any small business owner about their biggest headache, and they’ll tell you: when the help doesn’t show up. If you have people like Miss Von on the payroll, there’s a lot less to worry about. Showing up is truly more than half the battle.
But after Friday June 27, Miss Von won’t be showing up at the Long Horn each morning. At the age of 73, this very youthful lady is hanging up her spatula. All those years, those long days of standing and cooking have taken a physical toll. “After my retirement party, I’m taking a week where I’m just going to sit around. Then I’m getting my knee replaced. I’ve got to take it easy for about three months, then I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Greg Sitton’s not sure what he’ll do either. The 50-year-old is a regular at the Long Horn where they call him “Cowboy.” He compares the diner to the Cheers bar, from the old NBC sitcom. “Everybody knows your name around here. If they don’t know your name, they’re liable to give you one.” Greg’s dad first brought him to the diner when he was a tot, so Miss Von has fed this growing boy (somewhere north of 200 pounds) for his whole life. “She’s a good listener,” he said. “I hate to see her go, I don’t think she knows how much she means to people.” Seated at a nearby table, Les McCurdy admired his bacon (“crunchy, just like I ordered it”) and said, “If this is what she can do for breakfast, I’d like to try out dinner. Maybe I’ll just start eating at her house.” McCurdy, a professional comic, was kidding. I think.
It was a pleasure to interview Miss Von for this news story. Although I’ve been in the Long Horn several times over the years, this was the first time I’d really had a conversation with her. It’s not that she’s shy, she’s just always been busy. I suspect that’s why much of the online reaction from those who are just now discovering her was along the lines of “She’s worked there 50 years? How old was she when she started? 2?” Her co-worker Darlene Elmer first met her last year. “I thought she was about 50. I asked her how long she had worked here, and she said 53 years. I said what?”
What keeps her young? “I love my job, I love my co-workers, I love my customers. I looked forward to coming here every day. I cooked every order like I’d want to eat it myself.”
I’m sure that some among us look down on the lowly cook. They don’t greet you at the door, they don’t take your order, or tell you to have a nice day when you leave. So why has this quiet lady been on my mind so much this week? Why did I want to give her a fitting send-off on TV and online? Because it’s people like her who keep this country running. They don’t make waves, they don’t make headlines. They get to work early, they do their jobs well, they clean up before they leave. They know that in a tight economy, the best job security is keeping the customer satisfied; doing your job better than anyone else could. And they do that job because they love it, until their knees give out and they just can’t do it any longer.
Yes, Miss Von is retiring after that Friday morning party in her honor. But once she’s back on her feet, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to see her back at the grill, even to fill in now and then. And when she does, I’ll be there for breakfast. “Hey, can you whip up a couple of eggs over light, on toast…” I won’t have to finish. She knows the rest.
It is indeed people like Miss Von who deserve the recognition you’ve given her. Great story.