Sunday •
February 21, 2016
www.magicvalley.com •
$3.00
Richfield Redux: Tigers Down Dietrich in Deja Vu State Championship • D1
Vietnam War Vet Awarded 50 Years After Service ERIC QUITUGUA
24-Hour Drama
The Depot Grill, a longtime eatery in Twin Falls’ historic warehouse district, draws motorcyclists and mothers, bar hoppers and business owners, and its around-the-clock drama is a microcosm of southern Idaho life. The Times-News watched the progression of characters from 5 a.m. on a Friday until 5 the next morning. See the story and photo package on B1.
equitugua@magicvalley.com
URLEY • Vietnam War veteran Dan B Wayment served in the Army for eight years. More than 50 years later, he was finally honored at the Veterans of Foreign Wars post in Burley. Wayment, whose life took him from the air bases of Vietnam to investigating child abuse in New Hampshire to retirement in Idaho, was awarded nine medals on Saturday by U.S. Sen. Mike Crapo. The cerWayment’s emony is the wo rk o f t h e Awards se n a to r, t h e • Federal Defense Army Human Service Medal Resource • Vietnam Service C o m m a n d Medal with two and family and bronze service f r i e n d s wh o stars s a i d Wa y • Korea Defense ment’s medService Medal a l s o f va l o r • Expert Badge are overdue. with Rifle Bar “ T h e s e • Sharpshooter (medals) are Badge with Auto just those we Rifle Bar have obtained • The Meritorious here... “ Crapo Com Unit said at the cerCommendation emony. “ ...and • Cold War the work goes Recognition on to recognize Certificate just one today • The Republic — just one of of Vietnam our incredible Gallantry Cross m e m b e rs o f Unit Citation with our armed serPalm device vices, a veteran • The Republic who has served of Vietnam Civil so gallantly.” Action Modern Wa y m e n t , Medal Unit the son of a Citation First military offiClass. cer, was born a t t h e Fo r t Bragg Army base in North Carolina in 1943. He dropped out of high school and joined the Army in 1960 on his seventeenth birthday. Wayment’s first tour of duty was near the Korean Demilitarized Zone. During the Cuban Missile Crisis, he returned as part of an infantry unit. In 1966, he was sent to Vietnam with an airborne division based at the Phan Rang Air Base, which hosted tactical fighter wings, bombers and special operations until U.S. forces withdrew in 1971. Please see VET, A3
IF YOU DO ONE THING TODAY …
I f You Do One Thing: Centennial Cinema film festival features “Fossil Feature” at 2 p.m. at Hagerman Fossil Beds National Monument visitor center in downtown Hagerman. Free.
THE FORECAST
High Low
51° 33°
Sunny. Details on page C8.
THE INDEX Bridge E4 Crossword E4 Dear Abby E4 Jumble E5 Sudoku E7 Obituaries C5 Opinion C1
Service Directory E4
ABOVE AND TOP LEFT, STEPHEN REISS; TOP CENTER AND TOP RIGHT, DREW NASH, TIMES-NEWS
ABOVE: April Jones serves lunch to regular customer Arnold Gutknecht, 81, on Jan. 22. TOP LEFT: Waitress Samantha Lovejoy with customer Ivy Brim-Pratt, 2. TOP CENTER: Night falls Jan. 22. TOP RIGHT: Food is served up early on the morning of Jan. 23.
| See more of the Times-News’ best work at Magicvalley.com/bigstory.
Download Podcast’s 4th Episode Now For Free TIMES-NEWS O n Friday, Magicvalley.com released the fourth episode of a biweekly podcast, “Refugees in a New Land.” The free podcast follows TimesNews journalists into the field for a special reporting project: following a family of four refugees from the Democratic Republic of the Congo through their first year in Twin Falls. The podcast’s fourth episode takes listeners inside the family’s Twin Falls apartment. Confined by cold weather, the young couple chats online with friends in Africa and wishes for people in Idaho to visit. The husband gets a surprising gift at an English class, and the wife learns the sex of the child she’s
Regional Labor Manager Sees Tests, Opportunities HEATHER KENNISON hkennison@magicvalley.com
expecting. The reporting team is in the room for the ultrasound and has another breakthrough in trust, too. The podcast season will have seven episodes, wrapping up April 1. Listen to and download episodes at Magicvalley.com/ podcast or search “Refugees in a New Land” in your podcast player, iTunes, Stitcher or SoundCloud to subscribe and automatically download future episodes to your mobile device. On Feb. 28 in the Times-News and Magicvalley.com, watch for the second installment of the special reporting and photography project, which concludes in November.
WIN FALLS • Megan T Beyer is looking to bring a new face, new perspective and positive outlook to the Idaho Department of Labor’s Region IV. B e y e r started last week as the regional manager in South-Central Idaho. She is replac- Beyer ing Geoff Greer, who left the department at the end of last year. Her goals as regional manager include tackling some of the region’s biggest challenges with recruiting and training a workforce. Beyer said she sees a lot of “low-hanging fruit” in the
area offering opportunities to meet employers’ needs. “I think we as a region are poised to be able to do great things,” she said. Beyer previously worked as a regional business specialist in the department’s Idaho Falls office. She has been with the Department of Labor since 2010, and oversees budget, personnel and efforts of offices throughout the Magic Valley. “We’re very excited that Megan has been selected for regional manager for our area,” Deputy Director of Workforce Development Roy Valdez said. “She’s a rising star in our agency.” With more businesses coming to the area, the talent pool is dwindling. Please see BEYER, A4
• Sunday, February 21, 2016 Enterprise Editor Virginia Hutchins [ 208-735-3242 • vhutchins@magicvalley.com ] • B1
THE BIG STORY 24 Hours at the Depot Grill
Diner’s Parade of Characters Is Microcosm of Southern Idaho Life TETONA DUNLAP, MYCHEL MATTHEWS, ALEX RIGGINS and JULIE WOOTTON TIMES-NEWS WRITERS TWIN FALLS • Waitress Sarah Burrill’s graveyard shift wound down at 5 a.m. with a strange episode — just one brief passage in the around-the-clock drama that is the Depot Grill. The longtime eatery in Twin Falls’ historic warehouse district draws motorcyclists and mothers, bar hoppers and business owners, and the Times-News watched the progression of characters from 5 a.m. on Friday, Jan. 22, to 5 the next morning. In the opening scene, a young woman in a parka and layers of mismatched clothing walked out the front entrance to smoke a cigarette. At the counter, a Filer man — who comes in every morning before work — drank coffee and read the newspaper. He put down his paper and, standing, took one last sip. As he left, he noticed a man sleeping at a booth, his back to the wall and his legs stretched across the bench. The woman in the parka, who called herself Tori Smith from Jerome, emerged from the darkness and took a seat opposite the sleeper. She watched him, also keeping an eye on the clock. “He just came in from a long haul,” Smith said. She meets him whenever he comes into town — about once a week. “He needed a power nap,” she said. When she spoke, the trucker opened one eye and grumbled incoherently. “Now don’t you wake up on the wrong side of the table,” Smith told her sleepy friend. She started to fidget. Her teenage son soon would be waiting for her to take him to school. “My cell is dead. Take it out and charge it in your truck,” she told the trucker, trying to bring him around. Suddenly he sat up and looked at the cellphone in his hand. “Whose phone is this?” he said, startled. “It’s mine,” Smith said. “Go put it on your charger.” He leaped to his feet and exited. When he didn’t return, she left to check on him. “I hope they come back in,” Burrill told dayshift waitress Kerry Todd, who joined her at the cash register and gave her a questioning look. “They haven’t paid yet.” Soon, the truck driver returned and handed Burrill collateral. “They don’t have any money on them, but he said he’d be back. He left this,” she said, holding up a DeWalt rechargeable drill. “Oh,” Todd said, “he’ll be back for that.”
See a special video story about the Depot Grill and its crowd of diners, by photojournalists Stephen Reiss and Drew Nash, at Magicvalley.com.
See lots more photos from this 24-hour period at the Depot Grill, in a Magicvalley.com gallery.
TOP: Joel Aufderheide, 6 months, looks around the Depot Grill on Friday evening, Jan. 22, in Twin Falls’ historic warehouse district. The restaurant’s evening crowd is dominated by families. MIDDLE: Evening waitress Donna Halverson prepares customers’ drinks.
5:45 a.m.
By 6 in the morning, Burrill was ready to get home to her children. “She’s a single mom, raising — how many babies?” Todd asked the 35-year-old from Twin Falls. “Five, all on my own,” Burrill answered. She has worked the Depot Grill’s graveyard shift off and on since 1997, taking time off to have kids. “I always come back.” Most nights, she said, the business requires only one waitress, one cook and one dishwasher. “Each shift has different regulars. The swing shift gets the families, and I get the bar crowd,” she said. “The regulars are what keeps this place going.” Day-shift waitresses Samantha Lovejoy and April Jones appeared as Burrill cashed out her register. “We had a couple in who were celebrating their 65th anniversary,” Jones said, pointing to a booth along the wall. “They had met right here at that booth, back when the place had jukeboxes.”
6:05 a.m.
“Good morning, Bill,” Lovejoy said, placing a cup of coffee in front of a spiffy dresser. “Montana Bill” Johnson, 86, sat alone in a booth along the west windows, watching the passing headlights.
BOTTOM: Depot Grill waitress Jamie Anderson hands out menus early on the morning of Jan. 23. PHOTOS BY DREW NASH, TIMES-NEWS
Johnson wore a blue shirt with a Southwestern design of an eagle flying over pines. The slide of his bolo tie was adorned with jewelry featuring an Apache dancer in traditional dress. A wedding band of rose gold covered a third of his ring finger. “I like to eat by myself,” he said. Johnson spends most of his time alone; Rachel, his wife of 61 years, is in a care center. He visits her on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. “We made an agreement,” he said. “She doesn’t like me driving.” Johnson ordered his usual: a s m a l l h o tc a ke a n d o n e egg, scrambled. “Me, I’m a loner,” he said. “I just don’t get along with people.” Johnson left his Montana home early. “My parents were not good to me,” he said. “I took a lot of beatings. That’s what put me on the road.” He came to Twin Falls 50 years ago and has been drinking coffee
at the Depot Grill ever since. The room suddenly got louder as laughter and the clang of plates spread throughout the restaurant.
7:15 a.m.
Against the back wall near the side exit, Lyle Cummins sat with a cup of joe. He likes his coffee black and sweetened with honey, not sugar. “Need another cup, Grandpa?” Lovejoy asked. “Please, Sammie,” Cummins said, pushing his empty cup toward the waitress. “My granddaughter used to wait tables here, so all waitresses call me Grandpa,” he explained. The Cummins name goes way back to the early days of Cassia County. His great-grandfather was the brother of Daniel Cummins, one of the Oakley sheepherders first thought to be gunned down by “Diamondfield Jack” Davis in 1896. But the history books got it
wrong, Cummins said. His greatgreat-uncle’s name is incorrectly listed as Daniel Cumm i n gs i n m o s t accounts of the Cummins infamous double m u rd e r i n t h e South Hills. The tale of Davis — falsely accused, convicted and eventually pardoned after years of imprisonment — has become one of the most infamous in southern Idaho. “At first I believed Diamondfield Jack was innocent,” Cummins said. “I tried to go into the story with an open mind, but now I’m convinced he did it.” Cummins began to question many of the “shady” doings of people involved in the shooting, trial and pardon. For one, Diamondfield Jack once boasted that he would never do time. “Jack claimed he knew information about ‘influential people,’ meaning his boss, John Sparks,”
Cummins said. Sparks was part owner of a large cattle company that ran thousands of head of cattle along the IdahoNevada border. Davis was his hired gun whose duty was to keep sheepherders out of cattle country. Sparks was elected governor of Nevada in November 1902. Diamondfield Jack was pardoned on Dec. 17, 1902, and Sparks took office two weeks later.
7:30 a.m.
Soon Calvin Goold joined Cummins at the booth, and each ribbed the other in good-natured verbal jousting. The two have been friends for years. But only half of the gang was there, Cummins said. Ed and Bob were missing that day for a morning ritual that started back in 1977. The four pooled Goold their money in the $1.6 billion Powerball lottery a week before and were handed a winning ticket; it cost them only $80 to win $20 back. Cummins and Goold are both metal workers; Goold owns a machine shop, Goold Manufacturing, and Cummins owned Cummins Metal Fabrication until he retired two years ago. Cummins did the structural steel on nearly 50 buildings in town, including the new First Federal Bank downtown and the Twin Falls Center for the Arts building on the canyon rim. One of Goold’s favorite projects is a pair of 200-gallon tubs — 30 inches wide and 36 inches deep — he designed for Twin Falls bronze sculptor Danny Edwards. The tubs, which hold a fine ceramic slurry, are kept in perpetual motion to keep the slurry from hardening. Please see DEPOT, B2
B2 • Sunday, February 21, 2016
STEPHEN REISS, TIMES-NEWS
Chief cook Dana Cochran listens to thoughts from Depot Grill customers on a sauce she is developing Jan. 22.
Evening cook Don Dixon prepares food at the Depot Grill.
DREW NASH, TIMES-NEWS
Depot Continued from B1
Each stainless steel tub rotates on bearings and uses a blade to scrape the inside wall. The tubs “run 24/7, 365 days a year,” Goold said. They shut off for only three minutes at a time, just long enough for Edwards to dip a wax pattern used for his lost-wax bronze castings. The slurry creates a ceramic shell around the wax pattern, which is fired in a kiln. The wax melts away. “It’s called the shake and bake,” Goold said. Molten bronze is poured into the empty shell, creating one of Edwards’ western art masterpieces.
8 a.m.
At the other end of the room — alone at the end of the counter — sat Jim Lowe, looking much like Grand Ole Opry star Little Jimmy Dickens. A tiny man under a big cowboy hat, Lowe, 75, moved his eyes without moving his head. “I fell off a roof headfirst,” he said. “The fall didn’t hurt at all; the pain came when I stopped.” Lowe had nine vertebrae fused in what he called a botched operation. Lowe “Today, I’d rather go to a veterinarian than a doctor.” “Hooley!” Lowe hollered when he spotted Julio Trejo coming through the door. “Hey, Cowboy!” Trejo hollered back, taking the next stool. Lowe said he isn’t really a cowboy. He just likes the hat. Soon, Juan Galindo joined them. Galindo remained quiet while Trejo did the talking. Trejo was born in 1940, in Laredo, Texas. His parents were migrant workers from Monterrey, Mexico. Trejo first came to Idaho as a teenager working the fields. He settled here in 1960. After a 32-year career with Rogers Brothers Seed Co., Trejo retired and is living “a regular life,” with his son, his son’s wife and his grandchildren. “I come here for biscuits and gravy,” he said. “That’s my favorite in the morning.” Meanwhile, Cowboy slipped out and Manuel Campos took his seat. Waitress Todd announced the next to arrive: “Here comes Freddie!”
8:30 a.m.
With all the stools occupied, Freddie Hernandez took a seat at a booth near his friends. “All these guys, we’ve known each other for 40 or 50 years,” Hernandez said, pointing to the men at the counter. “This is how we keep in touch with what’s going on.” He ordered biscuits and gravy. “I come here five days a week,” Hernandez Hernandez said. “On Sunday I go to church. On Saturday I go to my daughter’s restaurant in Jerome — El Sombrero.” Born in 1934 in San Antonio, Texas, he became a migrant worker at a young age, picking tomatoes in Indiana and cherries in Michigan. “We came here in 1952, my dad, my mother and me,” Hernandez said. “I decided to stay here.” Eventually he ran his own crew hoeing fields in Murtaugh, Hansen, Kimberly, Filer and Buhl. “We didn’t get paid much, maybe 90 cents an hour,” he said, “but we made it through.” He eventually learned a trade. In the mid-1960s, Hernandez found himself doing concrete work on the 325-foot-high Hansen Bridge across the Snake River Canyon. Ten years later, he worked on the 500-foot-high I.B. Perrine Memorial Bridge. “They told us a couple of workers
STEPHEN REISS, TIMES-NEWS
Samantha Lovejoy takes the order of customers Ariel Brim and Ivy Brim-Pratt, 2. would be killed, but no one was,” he said. “It was a good job and paid good money. It was a union job.” Hernandez raised six kids in the labor camp at Washington Street South and Orchard Drive West. “It was a lot of fun in those days,” he said. “There was a lot of work. The labor camp was always packed.”
10 a.m.
At another counter, a half-dozen men sat in their usual seats — some breakfasting, some just drinking coffee. The Depot Grill “is our home away from home,” 75-year-old Roger Howarth said. “For $1.50, I get 40 cups of coffee.” Howarth used to co-own Tom’s Marina in Burley with his brother, Tom. Their father, Tom Sr., started the business, and the boys took it over when he retired. Howarth has lived in Twin Falls for 10 years. Next to Howarth sat Leonard Grant, 69, and around the corner of the counter sat Mike Spencer, just 66. “I have shoes older than that,” Howarth said. Grant’s parents in 1956 homesteaded a farm north of Rupert, which he ran until he moved to Twin Falls 20 years ago. “Sugar beets put my kids through school,” he said. After he left the farm, Grant went to work for a pesticide company, spraying weeds “from the Rio Grande to the North Pole.” The company had a contract to kill weeds for the Union Pacific and Alaska railroads. The “coffee cronies,” as Howarth calls the group, rode their Harleys last summer to the 75th anniversary of the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally at the edge of the Black Hills of South Dakota. They rode for two days each way and covered 2,000 miles. “All the guys came home with sore butts but the old guy,” Howarth bragged. Grant said the rally reminded him of Woodstock. “It was raining and so muddy, I left early,” Spencer said of the 1970 music festival attended by some 400,000 people. “But I got to see Jimi Hendrix bang up his guitar. That’s all I cared about.” “ Yo u we re t h e re , to o ? ” Grant asked. “Yeah, but I didn’t see you,” Spencer said with a straight face. “I still have my ticket to prove it,” Grant said.
11 a.m.
Brandie McLemore of Jerome drank coffee at the counter, and Jones stopped by to top it off with
more hot liquid. Steam rose from the mug decorated with a train and the words “Depot Grill, Twin Falls Idaho.” McLemore was there to pick up her W-2’s. After 10 years of working as a waitress, she’s more used to serving coffee than drinking it, but she started a new job as a receptionist in September. “It sucks because you are always used to moving around and now you are just sitting there,” she said. McLemore McLemore misses being a waitress. “I liked it. It was more up-paced.” She noticed, however, that today was kind of slow for a Friday. Sometimes her new job leaves a lot of down time, too, which means she reads a few pages from her favorite books. Currently, she is reading Nicholas Sparks’ “The Guardian.” McLemore declined more coffee and started to gather her things. She also had to pick up her pit bull, Luke, from the veterinarian. But first she stopped and hugged a customer sitting at the counter. He grabbed the side of her head and pressed it against his in their quick embrace. “Don’t work too hard,” someone called as McLemore left.
11:45 a.m.
Jones, who has worked at the Depot Grill for six years, first dined there with her grandfather. “He used to come here every Friday night,” Jones said. “A whole pile of us would be in the buffet room.” Now she is the one bringing diners their food. On Fridays, all the waitresses wear red to show their support for servicemen and servicewomen. Lovejoy came up with the idea, and it quickly caught on. Their effort is part of the nonprofit Red Shirt Fridays’ mission to show support. Wearing her red polo, Jones checked on her customers in booths. As the breakfast crowd dispersed, the lunch crowd trickled in. “How’d you like your carrots, my friend?” Jones asked a man who had pushed his plate to the edge of the table. All his food was gone, except for a cluster of cooked carrots. He muttered a response that was lost in the conversations swirling at the counter. But Jones heard him. “They’re good for your eyesight,” she said with a laugh, taking his plate away.
12:30 p.m. Arnold Gutknecht, 81, was finishing up the lunch special — Cajun catfish — at the counter. In 30 minutes, he would be walking it off. “I’m going to take the dog for a walk, or the dog is going to take me for a walk,” he said. “I think that’s enough for an old geezer.” Gutknecht is a retired plumber of 47 years. His wife still works at Oasis Stop ‘N Go. “I told her she had to keep working so I could come down here and drink coffee,” Gutknecht joked. When his wife gets off work at 3:30 p.m., she goes to aerobics class at the swimming pool. He goes with her sometimes and sits in a chair. He never thinks about joining her in the water. “I get my exercise right here,” he said. “I cross my leg this way and that way.” This is the second marriage for Gutknecht. He was married for 27 years when his first wife died of a heart attack. “She was gone in seconds.” Thirty-one years ago, he married the woman next door.
1:30 p.m.
On the other side of the restaurant, a man alone at the counter ate clam chowder. Sooper Ads pages featuring used cars sat near his plate and occupied the chair next to him, along with a pair of lime green gloves. He took a sip from a glass of ice water and six lemon slices. “How you doing, Mike? Good?” a waitress asked. Michael Warren, 54, of Twin Falls, is a lunch regular at the Depot Grill. “I usually sit over there,” he said, motioning to a booth occupied by a young couple. A chef by trade, Warren grew up in Orange County, Calif., and lived in Bullhead, Ariz., before moving to Twin Falls. He came with his wife to visit her children. When she left as his ex-wife, he stayed. “I don’t like traveling all over,” he said.
1:45 p.m.
Ariel Brim, 25, always wanted to be a mother. “It brings more meaning to your life.” Brim sat across from her daughter, Ivy Brim-Pratt, 2, in a booth near the buffet room. “I changed in many different ways, for the best,” she said. “The majority of the stuff I do, I do for her. She’s the main person in my life.” Ivy, in a booster seat, ate red JellO and watermelon. The Depot Grill is their special spot. Ivy likes watching the
trains go by and all the waitresses. When they first arrived, they were greeted by Lovejoy, who held Ivy for a moment. “H i, Ivy,” Jones said as she passed. Brim has lived in Twin Falls all her life. “She’ll probably end up doing the same,” she said, looking at her daughter. Ivy, fixated on drawing, didn’t respond. Her white paper was covered in red and blue lines and shapes. “Can you draw a circle?” Brim asked. Ivy held the crayon loosely in her hand as she moved it across the paper. “Are you coloring inside the lines?” Brim said. Ivy amazes her mother every day. She has started to learn her numbers. When she speaks in full sentences instead of fragments, Brim beams with pride. Brim said she knows Ivy will grow up to be a caring mother herself. When Ivy hears an infant crying, she looks around and is concerned. Then Ivy got an idea. She picked up a red crayon and tried to trace her hand. Instead of small, slender fingers, her hand tracing was large and block-shaped. “Almost, honey,” Brim said.
2 p.m.
There was a time when Frank Sinatra songs wafted from jukeboxes and mixed with bells and chimes from nearby pinball machines. “It was kind of crazy in here,” said Jim “JJ” Winterholer, 79. “You didn’t have coffee at the office, so at 10 a.m. it got pretty busy.” On Feb. 22, the only music inside Winterholer the Depot Grill came from a black stereo on a shelf. “Walking On Sunshine” played on the radio. There used to be jukeboxes on every table inside the restaurant, Winterholer said. He pointed to little nooks in the wall where where blue, pink and white sugar packets sit next to salt and pepper shakers. Winterholer’s father was James Winterholer, who started Gem State Paper Co. with Armour Anderson. His mother was Albertine Winterholer, daughter of L.I. Benoit. She lived inside the Depot Grill long before it became a restaurant. Please see DEPOT, B3
Sunday, February 21, 2016 • B3
Depot
— two who work 10 p.m.-3 a.m. and one who works 10 p.m.-6 a.m. Cochran stacked the giant pancakes and served up the eggs and sausage artfully on the side. The Train Wreck contest started about four years ago. The rule: To win, the diner must eat it alone.
Continued from B2
In the Depot Grill’s lobby is Steve Soran’s history write-up about the restaurant: “On May 7, 1908, the Benoit family began construction of the Blue Lakes Bottling and Spring Water Plant located on the present site of the Depot Grill. They sold ginger ale, soda water and other bottled beverages. In the late 1920s the Diegart family opened a Texaco service station at the same location and soon started making sandwiches for the railroad crews that frequented the area. By the mid 1950s the Depot Grill, operated by the Mays family and a staff of four, began 24 hours a day service.” Winterholer’s mother’s family stayed there because their home, being built near St. Edward’s Catholic Church, wasn’t ready yet. Back then, he said, there were no asphalt roads. When it rained, the streets turned to mud, so everybody wore boots. And sometimes people’s boots got stuck in the mud. When his mother, a girl at the time, got her boots stuck, they were really stuck. “She was crying, and finally one person came over and picked her out of her boots,” Winterholer said. “You don’t forget some things when you’re a young girl.” As Winterholer reminisced, Dire Straits’ “Money for Nothing” started to play on the radio. He remembered a time when his father traveled to Atlantic City, N.J., and about fell out of his chair after ordering coffee. Coffee on the East Coast was $4 for two cups. Back home, it was only 10 cents at the Depot Grill.
9 p.m.
Mark and Elizabeth Chandler weren’t even half done with the Train Wreck when Rocky Berlin’s family stopped by on their way out of the restaurant. The family was amazed at the size of the meal, saying it could easily feed five people. Was the couple looking to set a record? It doesn’t count unless you’re doing it alone, Elizabeth responded. “We’re sharing.” She pulled out her phone and flipped through pictures a waitress took of the Chandlers with their giant breakfast. “I’ve never seen pancakes that large in our life,” Elizabeth said. She pointed to her husband, a secondgrade teacher. “It was his idea.”
9:30 p.m.
3 p.m.
Jim Eaton moved from Idaho Falls to Twin Falls three years ago for the weather. He wanted to ride his Harley year-round, and the snow in Idaho Falls made it impossible. Eaton told his wife he needed to find a place to get a cup of coffee, and he found a home at the Depot Grill counter. “I came here, and I learned names, and people get to know you.” Now Eaton makes a point of coming every day at 2 p.m. and sitting with five or six other men. The Depot Grill gang reminds Eaton of a similar spot he frequented back in Idaho Falls. “Same place, same characters.” He’s also found a couple of Harley riders in his new group. A couple have gone to the annual motorcycle rally in Sturgis together, twice. “Did he tell you he drank Fireball whiskey?” one of his friends teased. Another quipped: “It was like taking a kid to Disneyland.” Eaton brought back a sign from Sturgis: “Welcome to the Big Bull Session.” Now it graces the diner wall, not far from where the group sits. “This is the perfect place for it,” Eaton said.
3:30 p.m.
George Stutzman, 83, sat at the counter wrapping leftover fries and hamburger steak into a napkin. He wore a brown hat, plaid shirt and leather suspenders and placed the napkin in his front pocket for the Yorkshire terrier back at home. “Cody will think this is great,” he said. Stutzman — part of the crew that gathers around 2 p.m. daily — often goes by his middle name, A r d e n . T h a t ’s because his father was George, his cousin was George and his sister married a man named George. Stutzman sat at the end and Stutzman quietly ate his meal while the other men laughed and joked. He’s been coming to eat here since 1952. Stutzman met his wife, Lelia, at a square dance. She was from Wendell, and he grew up in Jerome. They took the floor and haven’t left each other’s side since — except when he joins the boys at the Depot Grill for a late lunch. That day, Leila was grocery shopping. Stutzman was a bus driver when he retired at 80. “I didn’t think people wanted their kids with a bus driver over 81,” he said softly. He spent four years in the Navy during the Korean War and 21 years in the Air Force Reserves. He and his wife traveled a lot and belonged to an RV club. They used to manage a KOA Campground across the street from Disneyland in California and had an annual pass to the theme park. They were offered a job managing a KOA Campground in Florida but decided to come home. As the conversations in the diner became louder — and “Private Eyes” by Hall & Oates poured from the radio — Stutzman’s stories disappeared in the noise.
DREW NASH, TIMES-NEWS
About 30 people with Cornerstone Baptist Church’s “Reformers Unanimous” settled into the buffet room, where two long tables were set up. Once a month, they come to the Depot Grill after their meeting for fellowship time. “It’s crazy, just like this,” Kathy Thompson said, looking around as adults chatted and children colored. Her husband, Keith, is the program director. It’s a faith-based recovery program and “not just for drugs and alcohol,” Thompson said. The program has run for 12 years and meets at 7 p.m. every single Friday. “If it’s Christmas, we meet on Christmas.” Some participants are courtordered to be there or referred by probation officers. Organizers put up posters to advertise and go into the Twin Falls County Jail on Sunday nights to lead Bible studies.
9:45 p.m.
Fifteen minutes before the shift change, employees started arriving with a new supply of energy as others prepared to leave. Behind the counter, a night-shift waitress put on her apron and made up a song and dance: “It’s the night shift.” New arrivals now were mostly alone, not families, and went for the counter instead of the booths.
10 p.m. PHOTOS BY ALEX RIGGINS, TIMES-NEWS
TOP: An early-morning customer tries the Train Wreck at the Depot Grill. BOTTOM LEFT: Keilona ‘Kiki’ Blunt, left, and Sara Coach — the last of the night crowd to leave the Depot Grill — take a selfie with a reporter’s phone. BOTTOM RIGHT: Depot Grill diner Bryan Wittine shows a cellphone picture of his brother’s cat using a toilet.
4 p.m.
Cook Dana Cochran passed around a dish of sauce to customers sitting at the counter. She created the sauce to tone down her spicy meals. Made from dill, cucumber and other ingredients, it already seemed to be a hit among customers and some of the waitresses. “You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” Cochran told one of the customers. “I got a three-day weekend coming up.” In March, Cochran — who has worked at Depot Grill for 14 years — is going to Las Vegas with Burrill and waitress Crystal Starling, who usually works the evening shift. The Las Vegas trip is to celebrate Burrill’s niece’s 21st birthday. “I’m still trying to get them to book the hotels,” Cochran said.
5:30 p.m.
Verna Heck, who sat alone in the buffet room next to the salad bar, is a head cashier at Lowe’s, and her schedule changes frequently. She worked 5:30 a.m.-2 p.m. that day and was scheduled to work the next afternoon until 10 p.m. Heck loves all-you-can-eat chicken on Tuesdays at Depot Grill and “the most wonderful bean soup.” Plus, “their custard pie is to die for.” Friends introduced her to Depot Grill years ago. Heck and her youngest son — fond of trains growing up — used to joke about trying the giant breakfast called the Train Wreck. If you eat it by yourself in 30 minutes, you get it for free. If you don’t, you have to pay for it. The Train Wreck is six platesized pancakes, one pound of sausage and four eggs. A small whiteboard propped on a shelf in the restaurant displays how many people have attempted it: 14 wins and 252 losses. The odds aren’t in Heck’s favor. The record time someone ate the breakfast: 12 minutes, five seconds. Now, Heck’s son is 20 and lives in Texas. “That’s why I’m here alone,” she said. “I like to come and relax.”
6 p.m.
Bud Byce has come to the Depot Grill for 70 years. “It’s our favorite diner,” he said, eating with partner Julie Lang. They’ve been in a relationship for about 20 years. “We’re married at heart,” Lang said. Byce’s father used to bring him to the restaurant as a child, and they’d watch the train depot across the street. He and his father went to Saturday sales at the nearby stockyard, then came to the Depot Grill afterward. “We’re kind of addicted to this place,” Lang said, likening the atmosphere to the television show “Cheers.” The two come about eight times a month. This Friday night, they ate salads from the salad bar. “We help pay the wages around here,” Byce said. Lang is a post office worker, and Byce is retired after working in landscaping in Arizona. The couple met in Twin Falls. “Yeah, she stalked me,” Byce said, joking. They used to go dancing at Weston Inn. “Things have changed since we got together,” Lang said. The couple plans to leave Twin Falls. “When she retires, we’re getting out of here,” Byce said. Twin Falls, which had only 8,000 people when he was a child, has become too big. They want to move to Cascade, where Byce’s mother is from. “We fell in love with that place,” Lang said.
6:30 p.m.
Joe and Linda Newbry live across the street from Myrtle Orbe, 91. On Friday, the three shared a booth. “We kind of look after her a bit,” Linda said. But Orbe lives independently. “She’s a worker. She takes care of herself.” When the Newbrys take Orbe to appointments, she insists on thanking them by taking them to dinner. Orbe started coming to Depot Grill in 1971. This Friday, she called ahead to find out what the dinner special would be, then ordered pork loin and a baked potato. Her order was terse: “I want sour cream and butter both.”
The waitress returned and handed her the condiments. “There you go, Myrtle.” Orbe has a list of other expectations: Plentiful portions. A roll with dinner — always. Bright enough lighting to see where you’re walking. The Depot Grill has managed to keep her happy. “There’s not that many restaurants that stay in business this long,” she said. Joe Newbry, 89, used to come to the Depot Grill as a teenager. He graduated from Twin Falls High School in 1944, back when it was across from Twin Falls City Park. He drove his Ford car to the restaurant for hamburgers. “I’m an old dude,” he said, waiving to a couple who passed his table.
7:15 p.m.
Waitress Amy Denman greeted diners coming in. “Hello. Have a seat anywhere you’d like,” she said to two men bundled in winter coats. The restaurant had briefly emptied out, but it was busy in the buffet room at the back. Employees wiped the counters, prepared to-go orders and predicted the rush would come at 1:20 a.m. — just after bars close. The silent spell was broken by an ambulance’s siren and flashing lights. A group came in Denman knows particularly well — including her 18-month-old grandson. She sat on a bar stool and pulled her grandson into her lap for a brief cuddle before handing the boy back to her son.
8:45 p.m.
After a couple ordered the Train Wreck, kitchen worker Don Dixon poured thick pancake mix onto a grill. “It’s almost like cake,” Cochran said. Cochran produced a giant white plate to serve the Train Wreck on, and Dixon made quick, precise movements as he cracked four eggs onto the grill. “It’s time to start getting ready for the shift change,” Cochran said. For the graveyard shift, three women were expected to arrive
Jeff and Crystal Spackman and their daughter Paige drove in from Kimberly to order breakfast food after a Kimberly vs. Gooding high school basketball game. The Gooding couple met about 20 years ago while they were students at the College of Southern Idaho. Jeff remembers coming to the Depot Grill during his college days for “adult-night beverage consumption.” “This was the place to hit after basketball games,” Crystal said. She grew up in Filer and came to the restaurant with her parents as a child. “It’s a staple.” Depot Grill seems to be the anchor that holds historic downtown Twin Falls together, Jeff said. “No matter what’s going on downtown, this is always here.”
11:10 p.m.
Bryan Wittine strolled through the front door, the hood of his gray sweat shirt over his head, and grabbed a stool to the right of the cash register. He ordered his usual, the Denver omelet, pulled out his phone and started playing a game. Wittine, 27, graduated from CSI’s auto body program last spring and was hired to work in the program the next semester. He was born in California, grew up in Boise, moved to Twin Falls in 2013 and on his birthday tackled the Train Wreck, finishing the sausage and eggs but only a quarter of one panWittine cake. He lives with his younger brother, Andrew, in a house they rent from their parents. Wittine has a dog. His brother has two cats, Tachi and Cali. “Cats are toilet trained,” Wittine said casually. Toilet trained? Like, they use the toilet? “No litter box, just straight toilet trained,” Wittine confirmed. “We have a second bathroom that’s dedicated for the cats. They have kits online; it’s like an insert. You put it in your toilet, and the lid goes over it. You cut a little hole in the insert and put flushable cat litter, until eventually you make the hole bigger and bigger until the litter is less and less. And then you take it out completely and they’re just using the toilet.” Wittine’s German shepherd and border collie mix, Jager, is not toilet trained, sadly. Please see DEPOT, B4
B4 • Sunday, February 21, 2016
Depot Continued from B3
“It doesn’t take very much. Like 25 bucks in flushable cat litter. It’s definitely worth it. I recommend it to everybody.”
12:36 a.m.
In a corner near the hallway to the bathrooms, a man and two boys sat at a table with what looked like enough food for four men: steak and eggs, biscuits and gravy and an open-face turkey sandwich. Later they shared a hefty slice of chocolate cream pie. Jay Purtell was on a “secret mission” with two of his wife’s sons, 9-year-old Isaiah and 8-year-old Mateo. Though he’s not their biological father, Purtell has definitely become dad in the three years since he met their mom. “He’s really awesome,” Isaiah said, adding his biological father used to feed him and his brothers popsicles when they were hungry. Purtell, who’s from upstate New York and has worked in the service industry his entire adult life, taught the boys to cook. What are their favorite dishes to cook? “Clams,” Isaiah answered. “Salmon,” Mateo said. Purtell also taught them to cook lobster and mussels, among other things. “What are we going to do when we get older?” Purtell asked the boys, a wry smile on his face. He almost always had the same amused smile. “I want to be a sommelier,” said Isaiah, still 12 years away from legal wine drinking age. “No,” Purtell said, laughing. “As a family.” “Oh, we’re going to open a restaurant named JIMS,” Isaiah remembered. It’s an acronym: J for Jay, I for Isaiah, M for Mateo and S for Skyler, one of their older brothers who also likes to cook. Purtell has no kids of his own, which is fine with him. “I’ve always loved kids, but I don’t necessarily like babies. I like to think I learn as much from them as they learn from me.” As he and the boys talked about their antics, it was clear that Purtell is a fun and loving father. “Whoever’s up gets to go,” Purtell said of his late-night “secret missions” to the Depot Grill and other 24-hour eateries. “But the rule is, you don’t tell” the other brothers who were asleep. For boys out late on a secret mission, they ended their night by bringing lots of attention to themselves. Before they left, they were tasked with blowing wooden whistles as a waitress carried out the Train Wreck to a recently arrived guest. By now, it was well past 1 a.m., and the bar rush was on.
1:53 a.m.
Bar patrons had been loudly trickling in, and almost every table and booth was full. Toward the back, a married woman, an engaged woman and a woman with an “idiot boyfriend” ate in a booth after a night of drinking at the Log Tavern. On the other side of the restaurant, a quartet that included a transgender woman and a woman vocal about being a lesbian spent two hours eating and laughing. In a corner booth, two cousins seemed not to be enjoying their meals. Joe Morales ordered biscuits and gravy but sent them back after a few bites. Alfred Kaufman ate just one of his half-dozen chicken tenders, but he did ask for a box. “I been comin’ to the Depot Grill for so long,” said Kaufman, who lives in Tacoma, Wash., but visits the Magic Valley often. “I had to come get a plate since I was in the vicinity.” Kaufman and Morales had just watched another cousin, local rapper Yung Skillz, perform at a nearby bar. Despite obvious signs of their recent alcohol consumption, or possibly because of the alcohol, Kaufman was willing to get deep. “I just enjoy the small things,” Kaufman said. “I like books, coffee. My favorite book is probably the Godfather series by Mario
DREW NASH, TIMES-NEWS
Mateo, 8, scratches a ticket while stepfather Jay Purtell watches over him and his brother at the Depot Grill early on the morning of Jan. 23. Puzo. I’ll read anything, though, that I feel like I can learn from. I just recently read a Gandhi book. It turns out he wasn’t such a ‘yes man’ as I thought he was. He stood up for what he believed in, almost went to war for it.”
when she got back into city limits. “You know what’s funny?” Hannaman asked rhetorically. “We’re such the best cab company, even after we sent him to jail, he tried calling us for a cab.”
marriage and now lives with his two dogs. “I seen a shirt a while back that said, ‘When I die, my dogs get everything,’” Urias said, laughing. “That’s going to be me, man.”
2:27 a.m.
2:50 a.m.
The bar rush was slowing, and the noise level dropped significantly as the D&S Checker Taxi drivers began taking patrons home. In a booth by the restaurant’s entrance, Skip Urias and childhood friend Larry McElhaney grabbed a snack after a night out at Hometown Sports Bar & Grill. For Urias, it was his second trip to the Depot Grill in the past 24 hours, and he chowed down on what was probably the first salad ordered in several hours. Urias and McElhaney grew up together in Lodi, Calif., the town Creedence Clearwater Revival sang about: “Oh! Lord, stuck in Lodi
3:12 a.m.
Three cab drivers sat at the counter to the left of the cash register. On the far left was Darrell Hannaman, owner of D&S Checker Taxi. “I started driving a cab here in ’86 for Checker Cab,” Hannaman said. “Now I own it.” Hannaman has seen some wild things in his time driving taxis. “A guy once told me he had to go up and get some money from his house,” Hannaman said. “He asked me to come in and look at his pool table, you know, being friendly … and he went back to this one room, and I started hearing the sound of a gun clip being released. I look around the corner and here he was loading a clip with shells in it.” Hannaman took off running before the man could rob him, but apparently not before the man realized Hannaman could give his address to police. Another driver was called to pick up a young man who had just robbed a gas station, Hannaman said. And in August 2014, it was one of Hannaman’s drivers who transported Robert Bower and his wheelchair to First Federal Bank, where, police said, Bower went inside and robbed a teller. Bower had asked the unsuspecting driver to wait for him, and police showed up as they were loading the wheelchair back into the van. County prosecutors dismissed Bower’s case. Hannaman’s fiancee, Sam, showed up at 2:40 a.m. She also drives a taxi and represents the S to Darrell’s D in D&S. She has horrifying stories of her own. “I picked up a guy here in Twin and I took him to Filer,” Sam said. “And on my way to Filer, 4 o’clock in the morning, he decided to get naked in my cab and want me to take pictures of him.” Sam tried to hurry the guy out of her cab once she got to the address he’d given her, but he wouldn’t get out. Sam started driving back to Twin Falls and slyly sent a coded message to another driver — 10-1 means somebody needs to call the cops — and the police showed up
Former food reporter Tetona Dunlap, who covered the 11 a.m.-5 p.m. shift, first visited the Depot Grill in 2013 when it updated its menu. Though the Train Wreck is tempting, she has ordered only a Cobb salad and a French dip.
A few stragglers from the bar rush were sleepily finishing their meals and squaring away their checks. But Keilona Blunt, 23, and Sara Coach, 24, were still going strong. “We usually come later,” Coach said. “We go to the bars first, until they stop serving alcohol. And then after that we go to Bumpin Bernie’s, where they have a dance with no alcohol. But everyone’s pretty much already drunk.” “This is my best friend of 15 years,” said Blunt, who goes by Kiki. “We met in third grade, and then I moved away,” Coach said. “And then I came back, and somehow we magically …” “I searched for her,” Blunt interrupted. They met at Lincoln Elementary in third grade and became “inseparable.” Until Coach’s dad did just that and moved her to Salt Lake City for two years. They quickly lost touch. Two years later Coach moved back to Jerome and Blunt spotted her one day outside a store. Blunt made her mom stop the car so she could talk to Coach, and the girls quickly rekindled their friendship. Right then Coach got into the car with Blunt and her mom, and the two girls spent the next week swimming at the city pool and hanging out at Skateland. This time, they really were inseparable. Kind of. “In 15 years, we’ve only had two fights,” Blunt said proudly. They can’t even remember what started the first one. “Maybe we’ve only had one, then,” Blunt corrected herself. “I think it was just that two years, girl.” Wait, what? Only one fight, but it lasted two years? “She met the father of her child, and some things happened,” Blunt said. “And then I didn’t see her for two years.” Apparently it was quite the fight. “It was the longest two years of my life,” Blunt said. “I had to stalk her on Facebook, just to find out what’s going on. I found out she was pregnant, and I watched, literally on Facebook, her stomach growing. I was like, I can’t believe
“They see me come in, they’re cooking it already. I get paid twice a month, so I come here and have breakfast instead of having it at home. Once in a while, I might be here a couple more times a month.” Blaine Oglesbee
again,” is how the chorus goes. McElhaney is no longer stuck in Lodi, though. He moved to Twin Falls a few years back and drives a forklift in the cold warehouse at the Chobani yogurt plant. The cold warehouse is kept at 46 degrees at all times, and he works 12-hour shifts seven days out of every two weeks. “We work two days one week and five days the next week,” McElhaney said. “Every week is the opposite.” The long-haired, bearded McElhaney said he enjoys working for Chobani and rarely gets tired of eating the yogurt. Good thing, too, because he’s allowed to take home two cases a week. Urias, who used to have a similar job at a General Mills plant, is still happily stuck in Lodi, although he was recently laid off from a construction job for the winter. He’s a solidly built man with thick arms, rough worker’s hands and rugged good looks. He was married once for a short time, annulled the
Reporter Mychel Matthews never met anyone who was at the 1970s Woodstock Music Festival before her 5-11 a.m. shift at the Depot Grill. That day she met two who had attended the historic rock event.
Reporter Alex Riggins requested the 11 p.m.-5 a.m. shift expecting a raucous crowd and wasn’t disappointed. While he enjoys all of Twin Falls’ diners, Depot Grill holds a special spot for its 24-hour offering of corned beef hash.
I’m not there.” Finally, Coach reached out to Blunt on Facebook. It wasn’t the kindest message, but it got them talking again, and soon they put it all behind them. “Like nothing ever changed,” Coach said. But a lot changed, obviously. Coach had a child. They both moved away for some time, Blunt to Florida, Coach to California. But they’re finally back together in Twin Falls, just like old times. “You know when you meet somebody, and you’re soulmates?” Blunt asked. “So, like, me and her are like soulmates. But because she’s not a lesbian or bisexual we can never be together. But she’s my best friend. She’s like my sister. I’m perfectly content with that.”
4:14 a.m.
Just five minutes after Blunt and Coach walked out the door, Blaine Oglesbee was the first person to start his day at the Depot Grill, taking the first stool at the counter. The lone waitress remaining, Burrill, put in Oglesbee’s order before his jacket was off. Oglesbee doesn’t eat there every day, but he’s there regularly enough for Burrill to know his order. His food was in front of him within five minutes: bacon, hash browns, eggs over-easy. “They see me come in, they’re cooking it already,” Oglesbee said. “I get paid twice a month, so I come here and have breakfast instead of having it at home. Once in a while, I might be here a couple more times a month.” He works at Kapstone making cardboard boxes. Or fiberboard boxes, if you’re a Kapstone employee. “I got chewed out by a supervisor once,” Oglesbee recalled. “Told me, ‘it’s made of fiber, not cards.’” Oglesbee has worked for the company for 31 years, but he worked mostly on the graveyard shift until four years ago, when he was switched to day shift. Now he needs to be at work at 5:45 a.m. every day, but he lives in Buhl and heads to Twin Falls early in case of bad weather or car problems. A second man entered about five minutes after Oglesbee and took a stool on the opposite end of the counter. He appeared to be a weathered cowboy with well-worn boots, a thick flannel jacket and an old straw hat. On the few occasions he spoke to Burrill, it was more of a grunt than words. “It’s nice, though, when the sober guys come in first thing in the morning,” Burrill said. “After dealing with the drunks all night.”
On her 5-11 p.m. shift, reporter Julie Wootton enjoyed hearing stories from longtime Depot Grill diners – including some who have been coming for more than 50 years. They come for friendly atmosphere and comfort food.