A look at Rudolphs Bar-B-Que's glamorous past

So long, Rudolphs Bar-B-Que.

When it quietly closed late last month, the venerable Minneapolis restaurant departed with a whimper. But it certainly didn't start that way. In its heyday, Rudolphs was an influential player on the local dining landscape.

If nothing else, the 43-year-old rib joint had a significant role in igniting a late-night dining scene in what had been — and in some ways continues to be — an early-to-bed town. There were periods when the doors remained open to 4 a.m., an after-hours schedule that lured a lively, see-and-be-seen crowd from the worlds of theater, sports, music and restaurants.

"We get people in tuxedos, in evening gowns, in all kinds of costumes," said night manager Tony Whelihan in a 1987 Star Tribune story. "On Halloween, the waiters and waitresses wear costumes and some of the customers dress as waiters. It's hard to tell who's who."

The restaurant's most glittering night-owl denizen was Prince. Early in his career, he lived around the corner, and that proximity turned him into a regular.

"It's not unusual to spot one Prince [Rogers] Nelson (with bodyguards, natch) dining on a small salad and chicken near the back," wrote Star Tribune reporter Paul Levy in that 1987 story. " 'Scott Hansen is another late-night regular of ours,' he says of the rotund comedian. 'He's a character and he eats quite a bit. He's just the opposite of Prince. He eats a lot of food and is proud of it.'

"Other late-night celebrities Whelihan has seen at Rudolphs: Sheila E., various members of the Minnesota Vikings and University of Minnesota basketball team, the players and coaches of the California Angels and record producer and Grammy Award winner Jimmy Jam Harris, who, Whelihan says, directed 14 limousines of musicians at Rudolphs the night of the Minnesota Music Awards."

Here's how Star columnist Don Morrison described the restaurant in September 1975, shortly after its debut:

"The new place is called Rudolphs and occupies the premises at Franklin and Lyndale Avs. that for several decades were occupied by the Gables 3.2ery. The interior of the old place has been completely redone in rough-sawn, unfinished pine and decorated with old movie posters and still photographs — the name comes from a preponderance of Rudolph Valentino memorabilia.

"Seating is provided by canvas director chairs, which combine perfectly with table height to provide correct elbow support for two-handed rib-gnawing, which of course, is the only respectable kind.

"I ordered the plain old Rudolphs Bar-B-Que spareribs ($4.50), upon being assured that it was a smaller portion than the Bogart ("a whole slab"). I was presented with a large platter carpeted wall-to-wall with wide-gauge, meaty, juicy and very tasty ribs, of which I could manage to eat only about half. The Bogart ($5.75) must be served on a stretcher."

Theros had a hit on his hands, and the original Lyndale-and-Franklin location quickly spawned a few siblings, first in northeast Minneapolis and then in St. Paul, initially at Fairview and Randolph, and later in Galtier Plaza. There were also licensed Rudolphs branches in Duluth, Coral Gables, Fla., Akron, Ohio, and other locales.

Several signature dishes spawned endless curiosity and interest, especially that creamy coleslaw, which generated frequent letters to the Taste section's popular restaurant recipe request column.

Here's a sample: On July 12, 1978, it was Mrs. Kenneth Francis of Roseville who made the inquiry, and the restaurant offered its typical reply: "Thank you for your request for our coleslaw recipe. Because of the many years it took to develop, and the fact that Rudolphs is famous for its coleslaw, we are unable to give out the recipe."

The response never changed, and the Star Tribune never published the recipe, or any Rudolphs recipe.

In the early '80s, Star columnist Karin Winegar referred to Rudolphs as "the glamour gal of rib joints," writing that the "original Rudolphs is a smoky, kitsch-filled, roadhouse-shaped, heavily Caucasian rib joint with visions of Hollywood dancing in its menu. Items such as the John Wayne, the Theda Bara and so on just mean chewy, pit-smoked barbecue ribs, chicken and coarse coleslaw. The most successful ribs house in town."

A high point occurred in 1983, when Rudolphs swept three out of five first-place awards (in the Best Sauce, Best Spare Ribs and Best Overall categories) at the National Rib Cook-Off in Cleveland, competing against 39 restaurants from 22 states.

In 1997, Star Tribune restaurant critic Jeremy Iggers dropped in; he wasn't bowled over.

"The new look of Rudolphs Bar-B-Que is a little more contemporary than the '70s decor that preceded it, but it doesn't have much charm or character," he wrote. "The barbecue I sampled on recent visits was also unimpressive. The spare ribs and baby back ribs in the Ultimate Rack tasted parboiled, which speeds up the cooking process but leaches out the flavor. The beans were undercooked, the corn on the cob waterlogged and flavorless. The beef brisket seemed to have been sliced long before it was served; it was dry and not very tasty."

Still, Rudolphs plugged along for another 21 years, a remarkable feat in a cutthroat business. One factor that may have led to its demise is a sadly familiar one: parking, or the lack thereof. The restaurant lost its nearby parking lot late last year to the construction of an apartment complex.

Rest in peace, Rudolphs. And thanks for the memories.