The Berlin wall has fallen. Communism has crumbled. China has elected the Dalai Lama president. OK, scratch the last item. Still, the past decade has been a time of incredible change. Not to mention the decade before that, and the one before that . . .
But some things never change.
Ronny’s Steak Palace is still on Randolph.
What is Ronny’s, you ask? If you’ve ever been to the Loop, you’ve undoubtedly walked by it, driven by it or maybe even taken the plunge and eaten there.
Across the street from Block 37 and Skate on State, almost next door to the hustle and bustle of State Street, this funky restaurant at 16 W. Randolph St. has supplied hungry shoppers and office workers with a steady supply of meat, barbecued chicken and, well, more meat for 34 years.
Maybe you’re one of those people who has wondered why, in this age of cheery corporate blandness, the unsubtly decorated establishment with the green-and-white facade has hung around so long. After all, offbeat Loop landmarks are hard to find these days. You almost expect places like Ronny’s to fall victim to the relentless Disneyfication of urban life.
But Ronny’s Steak Palace won’t die. At noon on many weekdays, the line in front of the restaurant’s glass-fronted grill stretches out the door — but if you don’t eat meat, chances are you’ve never crossed the threshold at Ronny’s, since the menu is a carnivore’s delight. Would you like steak? Chicken and ribs? Steak and eggs? Or maybe just a full slab of ribs? The head swims, the stomach reels, the vegetarian cringes.
Walking past the steaming grill and entering the dining room at Ronny’s is a bit like walking into the Twilight Zone: The brain is at a loss to knit various bits of conflicting sensory information into a complete whole.
Plastic checkered tablecloths and large umbrellas make you feel at first like you’ve stumbled onto an indoor picnic — on Mars, that is. The place is bathed with orangey light from several neon light fixtures, a light that’s given a strobe effect by several vaguely Casablanca-esque ceiling fans.
But you cannot fail to be transfixed by what’s right at eye level. A series of 12 large murals was painted on the walls a few years ago, when the James Belushi film “Curly Sue” filmed a few scenes at Ronny’s. The paintings don’t have a formal name, but the series could be described as “Meat Throughout the Ages.” In one painting, titled “The Hind Shank,” a caveman and his family huddle over a pinkish-grey slab of beef; in another, Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev toast each other over a heaping plate of steak tartare.
“It’s the history of beef, (showing) how it evolved,” explains Herman Munic, the dapper owner of Ronny’s.
The murals would have looked pretty out of place in Ronny’s former incarnation as the Old Heidelberg Restaurant. That elegant establishment opened in 1934 as a spinoff from a popular German restaurant operated by the Eitel family at the Chicago World’s Fair of 1933.
Built by the noted architectural firm of Graham, Anderson, Probst and White on the site of an old wooden warehouse, the exterior of the Heidelberg was designed to evoke the charm of a traditional German village, right down to the benevolent figure of King Gambrinus, the jovial German monarch who supposedly invented beer. During the heyday of the “Randolph Street Rialto,” when glittering theaters and movie palaces crowded the intersection of State and Randolph, Gambrinus, (who is still part of Ronny’s facade) was a familiar figure, popping out of a specially constructed niche to announce the time every half-hour.
A few years ago, Munic heard rumors that developers were sniffing around Ronny’s, but in 1994 he received a letter from Chicago’s Planning and Development office assuring him that the city had no imminent plans to acquire the site. Indeed, city officials confirm that although the building that houses Ronny’s has not been given landmark status, the city isn’t eager to see the structure go under the wrecking ball anytime soon.
“It’s an unusual building,” notes historian Tim Samuelson of the Commission on Chicago Landmarks. “It’s a nice remnant of the picturesque architecture of the old Randolph Street entertainment district.”
“It’s recognized as a significant building,” adds Susan Ross, spokeswoman for the city’s Department of Planning and Development. “There’s a lot of interest in preserving what we have in the Loop.”
Still, that doesn’t mean that Ronny’s hasn’t faced its share of dicey moments. “When the last theater closed, we really contemplated closing up and getting out of the Loop. That really almost did us in at one time, but we survived. The reopening of State Street really helped us.” says Munic, who notes that there were once four Ronny’s; now there are only two, the flagship location on Randolph and another on South Wabash (the Loop once sported a slew of rival low-budget steakhouses, too, such as Tad’s).
But Ronny’s has not only survived, it has triumphed in the face of the dire predictions of the Nutritionally Correct — those who would have everyone else live in fear of Ronny’s staples.
“I would say we’re the No. 1 steakhouse in the Loop, in terms of volume, especially after it became chic again to eat meat,” Munic says.
But what about vegetarians? Rajai Omar, Ronny’s financial controller, considers their meatless menu options for a moment “We have baked potatoes. We’ve got dessert,” he finally offers.
Chances are, however, that the thought of eschewing meat altogether wouldn’t go over well with those who frequent Ronny’s. Sitting at the tables, perhaps watching a soap opera on the large screen suspended over the entrance to the dining area, you’ll find people like Jason Zilvitis and Roger Field, two students who came to Ronny’s on the recommendation of Zilvitis’ dad.
“For what I paid, they gave me too much,” he says, looking rather stunned and glassy-eyed as he contemplates the remains of his lunch.
“The prices are reasonable, and it’s kind of homey, I like it,” offers Debbie, a Marshall Field’s employee, as she gazes at the place’s schizophrenic decor.
“They’ve got good prices and good barbecue. But the decor leaves a lot to be desired. When I look at all this, I kind of lose my appetite,” laughs Emma, a Ronny’s regular.
The restaurant may not be featured in Architectural Digest any time soon, but it does have a certain loopy charm. Indeed, it’s not hard to figure out why the Chicago weekly NewCity voted the AM Factory, a nightclub located at the back of Ronny’s dining room, as the top retro club in the city. One can easily imagine a precomeback John Travolta strutting his stuff within its leopard-print and tiger-stripe bedecked confines.
And the place isn’t just a draw for disco dancers or committed carnivores — employees tend to stay for decades at a time. “We have people that started out here in the ’60s as busboys — they’re managers now,” notes Munic.
“People kind of get stuck to the place, including myself,” observes Omar, who has worked at Ronny’s on and off for 30 years.
The place may not ever be appreciated as the Loop landmark that it is, and it may have missed its shot at stardom a couple of weeks ago when an “ER” crew that had planned to shoot a scene in front of Ronny’s opted to shoot around the corner on State Street instead, but you get the idea that the place will always endure, no matter what. Day out, day in, people will line up for $9.99 T-bone steaks, and Ronny’s will serve them.
By the way, by now you may be wondering who Ronny is, or was.
“There is no Ronny,” reports Omar with a mournful smile.
One of the restaurant’s original partners always wanted a son, whom he planned to name Ronny, Munic explains. But the partner’s wife gave birth to daughter after daughter, and eventually, the man gave up and bestowed the name on the steakhouse instead. That was years ago, Munic says. These days, “that partner is in the big steakhouse in the sky.”
