From Four Cannon To Four Diamonds

At the start of the Memorial Day weekend, it was time to splurge.  After thirteen years in St. Louis, I dined, for the first time, at its best-known four-diamond restaurant.

It was an experience in flawlessness.

We did not get a waiter; we got a crew. The crew made sure that everything was perfect: pushing chairs in, flapping napkins open, serving food with panache from carts that rolled out from the kitchen, and seeing that beverage glasses did not go empty.

I was eager to test the common wisdom: you could not take one single sip of water here without your glass being refilled.  I decided that the restaurant had changed its policy: it was three sips before the crew refilled my water glass.

As a nice touch, the owner of the restaurant came by, said hello, and gave us his card.  Looking at the guy, I thought he could easily fit into any television show about the Mafia.  Maybe he gave us his card because he thought we were talent scouts for CBS.

The food was impeccable: stuffed zucchini flowers, chilled white asparagus, lobster albanello, and chocolate torte with toasted coconut ice cream.

Halfway through my lobster, I realized I was getting full and I panicked. Surely it would be uncouth to ask for a doggie bag at a four-diamond restaurant. My buddy Randy had to ask for me, and they did bag my lobster - not in an elegant four-diamond bag but in a brown paper bag, just like the bags my mother had used for packing my school lunches.

Brown bag aside, it was a remarkable way to start Memorial Weekend.

On Sunday, I went to a Memorial Service. This was for the 21 St. Louisans killed at the Battle of Fort San Carlos.  I was not sure that many people knew about this battle besides myself.

It was the westernmost battle of the American Revolution, when the Spanish ruled St. Louis.  The British, hoping to gain control of the Mississippi River, gathered hundreds of Indians to attack the village.  However, the village was forewarned, and had enough time to build a watchtower, with four cannon on top of it.

May 26, 1780.  The palisade around the town held fast.  The grapeshot from the cannon scared off the Indians.  The attackers retreated, but not before killing 21 people who were working the farmland outside the palisade.

Who would come to a memorial service for these unfortunates?  I looked around and saw lots of ladies wearing hats. Why, the Daughters of the American Revolution, of course.  There was a keynote speech by an archeologist, and a nice wreath-laying ceremony with a bagpiper.

I spoke to the archeologist after the ceremony. She had never heard of the Battle of San Carlos until she was asked to be the keynote speaker. The ceremony’s goal was to raise public awareness, and had certainly raised her awareness.

Then I became aware of a connection between Friday’s lavish dinner and Sunday’s somber ceremony. Where the watchtower stood in 1780 is exactly the same spot where the restaurant stands in 2011.  From four cannon to four diamonds.

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com