Murphy Some 22 years ago, Trish Rudgers had a “big idea.” The time was right, she thought, to open a restaurant.
She decided to share her big idea with a couple of her girlfriends, Doris Becker and Margie Mason, who agreed to become partners. Their mission, though it wasn’t categorized as such at the time, was to prepare and serve food like they would cook in their own home – “or better,” as Trish added with a bit of a smile.
Family and friends suggested names for their restaurant. It would be located at the Grizzley Bear convenience store in Ranger, where U.S. 64/74 runs into U.S. 19/129, the first business in western Cherokee County many people saw when driving in. There had been a deli located in the back of the store owned by James and Claudia Snow, who retired, leaving the space available.
Three Little Women was a new name that seemed to fit the partners, in part due to the three of them being “short,” as they described themselves. However, don’t let that name fool you; their lack of physical stature is dwarfed by the size of their hearts and strength of their determination.
Looking back
Sitting with Trish and Margie and listening to them reminisce about the early
days clearly touched something deep within each of them. There was Ms. Pinky from the real estate business next door, who would come in and sit for hours drinking cup after cup of coffee.
She would bring a stack of quarters, call one of the ladies working over and ask her to play Alan Jackson on the juke box – over and over. Occasionally, Ms. Pinky might take a sip from the creamer carafe, which would have to be removed and washed immediately, but that was just OK with whomever was working that shift.
There was the remembrance of a person down on his luck needing a cup of coffee and warm place to sit for awhile to escape the cold, or another disheveled man, hungry and being fed at no charge. Margie recalled chasing after a guy “all the way out to his truck for ‘forgetting’ to pay.” There were many such untold experiences.
Their story is as much about the Three Little Women caring about people as much as they cared about serving good home-cooked food. They love the community they called home and everybody in it, even when they were down on their luck. The idea that everyone deserved to be thought of and treated as “family” became the theme of the “big idea.”
They acquired wisdom while serving others, plus a deeper sense of connection. They recalled memories through glistening eyes and a quiet moment of reverence on the passing of their partner, Doris. These memories were like pages from an unwritten book spilling out sometimes in tears, other times in fondness and disbelief that somehow the years had slipped by almost unnoticed.
Picture perfect
Margie brought a new camera to work one day, which was a big deal. She began taking pictures of customers and putting them on the wall. When she left for another job, that practice sort of fizzled out, but not before the wall was papered with familiar faces.
With Margie gone and Trish running the restaurant alone, with no time to pick up where Margie left off, she decided to begin moving the pictures of those who passed to another wall. As the story goes, a young woman just happened to come by for some home-cooked food and saw the picture of her deceased grandfather on the wall. She asked if she could have it because she didn’t have a picture of him. Of course, Trish said yes.
A local friend introduced a reporter to the place 10 years ago. While walking in, it was surprising to see the Hot Spot convenience store in the front of the restaurant. The smell of bacon cooking hung in the air. Sitting at the tables and booths were more than a few men talking and carrying on, laughing and guffawing.
It was the kind of place that once existed in small towns all across this country, where folks gathered to see who could tell the biggest fish that got away story. Sadly, those kind of places are giving way to more modern commercial enterprises driven by the bottom line rather than the nostalgic, folksy way that had become under-appreciated in our hurry-up world.
Sass free with order
“Your order’s up” came the woman’s voice from the grill. Again: “YOUR ORDER’S UP!” she barked, with every voice falling silent instantly.
The man who’s name she called out snapped his head around in mid-sentence, looking a bit mischievous and humbled because he had been so intent on talking he didn’t hear his name being called. The woman standing over that hot griddle clearly was no stranger and not the least bit intimidated by men with muddy boots and blue jeans faded from working in every kind of weather.
These men – wearing ball caps to shade faces etched with the experience of doing backbreaking work in the blazing sun, driving rain, bitter cold winds, ice and snow – asked for and gave no quarter. They were tough, and some were as hard as iron. They showed up to work with the occasional broken bone, sometimes sick and always tired, because they had to. Their story was written with gnarled, chapped and calloused hands.
No, the lone woman cooking and serving these men of hard labor was not intimidated at all. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt just tight enough to remind everybody that she was every inch a woman, she was unchallenged and equipped with just the right amount of sass and irreverence to control this room full of grizzled men.
Closing time
Talking with that same woman some years later, she shared that the corporation leasing the restaurant space was moving in a different direction. In the plans was the introduction of pre-packaged food, the kind of nutritious sandwiches people grab from the cooler or off the shelf, pay too much for and then wait in line to zap in the microwave.
Of course, there was a new lease to sign, with a monthly rent increase. The previous lease had been signed 10 years earlier, and 10 years again before that. Sadly, the decision that was forced upon the Three Little Women, with just one of them still remaining, was to close after more than two decades of friendly service.
Where would the men with muddy boots, faded jeans and hands like hams go to get good home-cooked food with a side of sass? It felt like the end of a something that shouldn’t slip quietly into forgotten history.
These men worked building homes, clearing land, leveling mountains and driving the big trucks, all the while contributing revenue to their community through their sweat and sometimes blood, paying their taxes, raising families and attending churches while complaining bitterly about being shoved unceremoniously by a bigger tough guy from corporate, who they might have shoved back if they only could find them.
The men met and broke bread together for years, in part because could they park a 10-wheel dump truck, fill up with diesel and get a hot home-cooked meal at the same time. That’s harder to find in town, where parking a compact car is challenge enough.
Pretty good run
Then there’s Trish. Hardworking, dedicated, committed to always provide quality food and superior service to anyone walking through her door. And for good measure, if a customer asked for it, yes, a lil’ bit of sass.
She wondered should she “carry on, or just retire?” After all, it had been a pretty darn good run, She and her partners had achieved their goal through good times, hard times, recession and illness.
Trish didn’t know. But the bigger question that arose was, “How could she not?” So she moved. Everything.
She set it all up again – pots, pans, dishes and, of course, her griddle. You can find her in front of the grill six days a week at 877 U.S. 64 in Murphy, between Big Frank’s Realty and Monte Alban.
You can’t miss the old Grizzley Bear sign over top of her restaurant. By an odd quirk, she was able to hang onto the Grizzley Bear name, although she is registered under Three Little Women. One of her original partners, Margie, is going to step in to help out until more permanent help can be found.
Many of Trish’s “family” of loyal customers, who appreciate sass at no extra charge, followed her to her new location – despite the fact that it was closer to town – in order to remain part of the “family.”