Charlie Sovich at Manhattan Deli
9/4/2024
Charlie Sovich sold Charlie’s Filling Station two years ago after a 48-years-long run. We asked him to lunch and met at Manhattan Deli, where the sandwiches cover all traditional bases while occasionally pinch hitting out of their league, as it did recently with lobster rolls featuring Maine lobster.
Lunch there is reminiscent of walking into a bar like Cheers, “where everybody knows your name.” Our conversation was punctuated with greetings from half a dozen other customers — musicians, beer distributors, entrepreneurs, other bar and restaurant owners, even other writers.
Charlie was the “cool kid” when I was growing up in the 1950s. The guy was batboy for the Des Moines Bruins, Western League farm club of the Chicago Cubs. That was every other Des Moines boy’s dream job, and Charlie had it for six years.
“I lived right across the bridge from Pioneer Park then. I hung out there and got the batboy job when I was 9 years old. John Holland was general manager then before he was the Cubs GM. Then Claude Freeman, he was also a Des Moines lawyer. I guess they liked me. I sure liked them. Pepper Martin, too; he was manager then.”
There are still photos at the ballpark, Principal Park now, of Charlie fighting with a fan for a foul ball wedged in the wire netting behind home plate.
“The team didn’t like losing balls back then. It was an economics problem. Now balls are goodwill gestures.”
The batboy job led to something bigger.
“One of the Western League teams was Fox Cities, in Janesville, Wisconsin. (Hall of Famer) Earl Weaver was their manager, and Boog Powell was their first baseman. I took infield practice with them, and Earl Weaver ended up signing me to a contract with the Baltimore Orioles when I was in high school.”
What were the minor leagues like in the early 1960s?
“I played for Bainbridge, Georgia, and Bluefield, West Virginia (which extends into Virginia). Black players had to sit in the back of the team bus, eat in different restaurants and stay in segregated hotels. A lot changed in my lifetime.”
Charlie returned to Des Moines, and the cool kid became the cool guy. In the 1960s, high school boys like me were as clothes crazy as today’s ’Bama Rush girls. Charlie was a men’s wear manager, the essence of cool.
“I worked for the New Utica until Bill Reichardt came in one day and asked me to come work for him at Reichardt’s in 1963. Then I was sales rep for Bass Weejuns (when penny loafers were de rigueur in Des Moines) in Montana, Washington and Oregon from 1965 to 1970.”
What made Sovich decide to open a bar?
“John Hughes pitched the idea to me and Bill Manders. He was the spearhead. We were barely in our 30s.”
Lots of filling stations have been converted into new businesses the last 50 years, but Charlie’s was one of the first. Were banks wary?
“No bank would loan us money. Finally, John Stamatelos (Johnny’s Vet’s Club) backed us with West Bank. The filling station was a mess. We did 90% of the labor ourselves. Bill, his brother, Mark, and his dad, Pug, were skilled craftsmen. By the time we were ready to open, John told us he was going to leave Des Moines, so Bill and I bought him out. Three of his sisters worked for us long afterwards. We opened in June 1975, the same weekend Variety Club began.”
The Filling Station was the first place I saw shag carpeting on the walls, fresh squeezed orange juice cocktails and loss leader hot dogs.
“Shag carpet was only on the bathroom walls. What can I say, it was the 1970s. The fresh-squeezed juice became our signature. I went to Houston in 1986 and had the best screwdriver ever. I followed the waitress into the kitchen and saw people squeezing fresh fruit. When I got back to Des Moines, I went to Service Merchandise and bought juicers for $20 each. I bought bags of oranges from Safeway. You could smell the oranges when you walked in. Losing money on an item was a new idea. Hot dogs were 25 cents when I started and $1.50 when I left. Always lost money on them, but they brought a lot of people in.”
What changed the most in 48 years with the bar business?
“It was a huge break when the state allowed us to open on Sundays. In the 1970s and 1980s, restaurants were open later, till 11 or even longer. Then the staff would come out for a late nighter. So, bars were open till 2. We could smell Lou King’s donuts (Donut King) when we left work.
“That brought very few problems for us. The rule was, if a bartender threw you out, you had to call me to get back in. I listened to both sides, and the bartender was almost always right.”
What does Charlie advise young bar owners today?
“Don’t drink. When people behind the bar are drinking, the chances of making bad choices go way up… Pay attention to the stuff no one ever sees — the ordering, cleaning up, the small details… Hire good people.
“I had a guy named Randolph Scott. He cleaned up after we closed and did a great job for years. He was never late, even when there were two feet of snow. Sherry Scarpino was with me for 37 years. Three others for over 20, two more for over 14. Mark Wellman was our first bartender. The people make the bar.”
Charlie drove his 1984 Cadillac El Dorado convertible to Manhattan Deli. That drew a lot of attention when we were there.
“I love it, but it gets eight miles to the gallon on the highway. I took it down Route 66. If you own one, you have to do that.”
Route 66 is a time warp, far enough off the interstates that it got stuck in time. What was Charlie’s favorite roadside attraction?
“In Oklahoma, we found a batting cage next to a drive-in. I loved it, hitting balls for half an hour. You can’t do that many places anymore.”
The convertible seals it. Charlie has gone from being the coolest kid to the coolest octogenarian in Des Moines. ♦
