FLASHBACK 1992: John Paul Brophy breaks out the eatin' irons at Wagonmaster 

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In commemoration of City Weekly's 40th anniversary, we are digging into our archives to celebrate. Each week, we FLASHBACK to a story or column from our past in honor of four decades of local alt-journalism. Whether the names and issues are familiar or new, we are grateful to have this unique newspaper to contain them all.

Title: Chowin' Down with the Cowboys
Author: J.P. Gabellini
Date: July 1, 1992

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Wagonmaster
5485 South Vine Street
269-1100

There's this li'l town what's now settin' out there in Murray, a piece aways from where the old Pony Express trail used'ta go. Fer the life o' me, pardner, I plumb cain't remembers it ever beein' there.

I was so dad-burned hungry, though, I weren't 'bout to make no never mind about no location curiousness. So, I went past all the broke-down wagons and old windmill in all the sand and cactus and sage in front o' that barnwood palace there on Vine Street to take a look-see at the Wagonmaster Steak Co. Restaurant (seems that's where the Highland Dairy did all their milkin a while back, and this place has been ladlin' out their grub fer 'bout two years now).

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I mosied 'round what was the spittin' image of Dodge City, past some big ol' room in the back with a corral fer a dance floor (jest one of the two banquet rooms—the place can seat 400 cowpokes). We had to be coolin' our heels a bit—some of my saddle pals who've been out there themselves says that waitin' ain't all that unheard of, 'specially on a week-end, so if ya gots seven or more folks, best to make a reservation. By 'n' by, a perty li'l cowgirl came to take me and my sweet gal back through to where them 57 (count 'em!) Conestoga wagons was all circled in the sand under the starry night sky, with campfires jest a burnin' and a couple of coyote varmints sneakin' 'round.

So, there we was, settin' in our own prairie schooner, listenin' to all the trail songs bein' played and feelin' downright cozy. Some hand rang the dinner gong, and all the crew came 'round to wish on the of the young'uns happy birthday (these folks really love ya to bring all your brood). Wagon boss Todd Cragun was also tellin' me that on the weekends his pa, Marshall Jerry Cragun, and a posse sometimes comes across a nest o' outlaws, and they usually end up in a shootout (must'a been those same ornery dudes from Knotts Berry Farm down California way!).

Ya kin gets firewater if'n ya asks, so we wet our whistles while we spied all the temptin' menu fixin's. We got started with some Chicken Lips, and them li'l morsels was tasty and jest a'spiced up nicely. Beef's the big draw 'round here, and my gal needed only her fork to make short work of the Chochese (a one-pound Porterhouse steak) that she said was mighty good.

I hankered fer the Prime Rib, and even though I had 'em bring on the littlest cut (called the Big 10 oz., with the Bigger 16 and Biggest 24 oz. fer them that's got a powerful hunger), it was a sight more than I could put away. I fancy meat cooked jest this side o' mooin', and it could'a been more that way fer my taste. Still it were juicy, burstin' with flavor, and 'bout as tender as I ever have had (rumor has it that all the doggies are corn-fed back in Omaha, and they shore do have 'bout the best taste that I've wrapped a lip around). After one bite I knew it shore weren't Sidemeat* back in the chuckwagon rustlin' up this good grub.

They also got tender sea critters like crab, shrimp, salmon, halibut, and lobster that ya kin git alone or in combos like the White Thunder (filet mignon and lobster), and the hen house kin be raided, too. All the vittles comes with salad, hot bread, and with either a baked spud, fries or beans.

Ya better waits 'til payday, 'cuz it ain't the cheapest joint. It ain't some high-falutin' place, neither, and a double-sawbuck each will jest about cover ya. Wagonmaster sets at 5485 South Vine Street, and ya can call them at 269-1100. They're open 5-10 p.m. weekdays; 5-10 p.m. Friday, and 4-10:30 p.m. Saturday (but closed June 29 through July 6 to do a bit o' fixin' up).

Get along, little dogies.

*The camp cook fer them Riders in the Sky boys.