Friendship rebuilds Balltown landmark

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By Bill Wundram | Wednesday, June 25, 2008 |

HIS arms are spread wide. Mike Breitbach stands monarch-like in his new Balltown, Iowa, restaurant. It is a lovely, Iowa-Gothic place in the scenic bluffs above Dubuque. It reminds one of a Grant Wood painting.

The new place opened a week ago today. Proud Mike calls it, “A miracle of Midwest friendliness. Within 69 working days, we finished this big building ... so many volunteers did it.”

We were skeptical about how there could be another place like the 156-year-old Breitbach’s, Iowa’s oldest restaurant and a Midwest attraction. Anything new would look like a Hardee’s or a McDonald’s. But this big homey place, a few feet from county road C9Y, is like going to grandma’s.

“No one believed it could happen,” says Mike, a banty-rooster size man, flitting from one table to another. He stops long enough at noontime to shout, “It’s time for me to lecture.” He recites how on the morning of Dec. 24, his landmark restaurant was blown to pieces by a gas explosion that knocked him and four of his employees flat on their backs. Everything was gone, including the horse blanket that Mike always insisted was left behind by Jesse James on his way to rob the bank in Northfield, Minn.

For this part of the world, the loss of Breitbach’s restaurant was like a death in a Balltown family. Help instantly plowed through snowdrifts to reach Balltown, population 39. Mike describes how, on Christmas day, a guy from Davenport stuffed a $100 bill in his hand. Everyone was fetching food. Everyone wanted to do something.

“It showed what real friendship is,” says Mike, dashing from table to table in shorts and sporting a buzz-top haircut.

After the explosion, Mike and wife Cindy worried; give up or rebuild? Mike’s great-great-grandfather bought the place before the Civil War. The couple was determined to rebuild, but not in the cluttery junky decor of lanterns and empty feed sacks in the multi-level old restaurant. This new one would be cozy rural ambience. An architect was hired.

“Then, miracles began to happen. Everyone helped, especially the Amish and farmers and the whole town,” he says. Within 69 working days, this place was finished.” Mike tells how volunteer roofers and handymen began at 7:30 one morning and worked until 10 that night to hammer 320 bundles of shingles on the roof.

Mike talks non-stop while we admire the view of three states — Iowa, Illinois and Wisconsin — and the blue-green horizon that reaches forever and looks like a misty sea. Oak tables are new but they look old. Every oak chair in the place is autographed on the bottom by the Amish cabinetmaker who built it. For the first time in its life, Breitbach’s has chairs — and silver — that match.

“Let me tell you about a motorcyclist named Quinn from Zanesville, Ohio,” Mike says. “He ran out of gas one night. We helped him and became friends. He was in the heating business. When he learned of the fire, he called to ask what ductwork we needed. He filled a semi with ductwork and drove 600 miles here with all that metal. The only pay he wanted was a cup of coffee.”

Good news travels: A New York Times reporter spent two days in Balltown for a story on the town’s communal effort.

One more thing: In the old Breitbach’s, there was always a cook stove, bubbling with soup. There still is a cook stove. Soup still bubbles.

Bill Wundram can be contacted at (563) 383-2249 or bwundram@qctimes.com. Comment on this column at qctimes.com.