The Red-Carpet Grand Opening

The Eagles' Nest, The Women of the Rathskeller Inn

Rathskeller First Addition - 1964

Chapter 14

(This chapter is dedicated to my cousin, Cathi Wheeler Anderson, Lolly’s daughter. She and I were eleven months apart in age and grew up like sisters, only with dynamically different mothers. Cathi passed away on May 8, 2025, from Pancreatic Cancer. We were the Rat Brats, and as adults, we had a close, loving relationship. I will miss her.)

My cousin Cathi and I became Rat Brats. A bigger tavern meant more employees and more big brothers and sisters for us. When we were there, it was one big, happy family —the kind I had always hoped for. From an early age (I was ten, Cathi was nine), we felt privileged to work in the kitchen and office doing small tasks. I loved the idea of being among the other employees and contributing to the team. It was a relief to have guidance, discipline, and instruction. Ah, the conundrum of children … what exactly is too much freedom vs. not enough? As Rat Brats, we had the baby bear kind, and it was just right.

My cousin had difficulty staying out of the bar area. We were not supposed to leave the kitchen or the back room, but we couldn’t see the stage from the kitchen. We both wanted to speed up time and become adults.

We learned how to press raw hamburger into patties, fill the bins with sliced tomatoes, onions, and pickles, and even assemble a pizza. That was the beginning of my love for cooking. Mom, grandma, and even aunt Lolly enjoyed preparing meals, although it rarely happened in our homes. It was the beginning of my life as a foodie.

I remember going into Rats during the construction. I loved the smell of cut wood and plaster; it reminded me of dad. While living in St. Regis, when he built our home, the smell of cut lumber and plaster lit up my senses and brought back fond memories. Watching all the work being done was fun and exciting. I didn't know what “bigger and better” meant; I don’t think anyone knew with any certainty what would happen once the work was completed. The whole business of owning a tavern was an experiment and a risk. The experiment, however, seemed to be playing out in our favor.

I wish I had understood the pressures that mom faced. She struggled with her loyalties, always wanting to be everything for everyone else. When her pain became too much for her, she needed a release. Their childhood had been traumatic, and I would never know to what extent those experiences hurt both mom and aunt Lolly. I know mom was filled with love, compassion, and forgiveness. My aunt, on the other hand, was bitter, angry, addicted, and mean-spirited, trapped in a private inner battle and a world that she hated. Addiction made it impossible for her to escape.

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By 1964, Ann had taken full responsibility for the Rathskeller. She was the one in charge; it was her highway everyone traveled on, and it was her way or no way. A shocking, unanticipated fire had pushed Ann to her limits, and she would not back down. Ann leaned on Jackie for support, and for perhaps the first time in Jackie’s life, she felt needed and valued by her mother. They were in it together, and both felt complicit for being unable to move fast enough to prevent Lolly from throwing a match on the gasoline. And even though Ann mistrusted Jackie’s emotional reactions to the challenges she faced, she never doubted her good intentions. The fire, or rather the arson, was a family secret that would be left unspoken for decades. Ironically, it bound Jackie and Ann together as both mother and daughter and as secret keepers for the rest of their lives.

The Rathskeller remodel was even more beautiful than Ann, Jackie, Norm, or Lolly had imagined. The added square footage and updated interior made the formerly modest beer garden unrecognizable, except for the entrance and game room, which had been left unchanged. It was now elegant and sophisticated, considering it was a tavern selling beer.