New owner hopes long shuttered bar in Afton may serve another round

The old building’s lights were shut off years ago. The front door was locked up. Spiders and at least one squirrel moved in.

The former Lerk’s Bar in Afton, closed for more than 20 years, looks today like an abandoned house, all darkened windows and peeling paint.

The weathered two-story in the heart of Afton’s Old Village was purchased three years ago by a Minneapolis man who wants to reopen it, but so far Nick Morrison has found mostly that it needs more work than he originally thought.

“It needs brand-new everything,” he said.

If the circumstances were different, or if this was a larger city, demolition might seem a more likely path forward. Saving Lerk’s, on the other hand, could be the finishing touch of a village refresh that included $22 million in infrastructure investments completed in 2019. The village’s main street now features a row of tidy and historic businesses. And then there’s Lerk’s, like quaint Afton’s untucked shirt.

“Getting Lerk’s back up and online would just be a huge boon to all the businesses” in the village, Afton Mayor Bill Palmquist said.

Morrison has applied for a Small Business Administration loan with the help of a Hudson, Wis., bank. He’s worked out rough numbers for renovation costs. For now, he makes weekly visits to the property to wipe away cobwebs and clean up what messes he can.

He served a simple half-pound hamburger using meat from Brine’s Old Fashioned Meats in Stillwater, garnished with a pickle slice and covered in onions, cooked or raw. It was a smash hit.

Newspaper columnists raved about the burger, “thick as a first baseman’s glove.” A National Public Radio story in 1978 said the Lerkburger was one of the best anywhere. After being named to the Carter-Mondale ticket, then-U.S. Senator Walter Mondale made Afton his first public appearance in Minnesota, adding that he wanted to have a Lerkburger. Tiny Afton was on the map.

“People bring it up all the time,” said Stan Ross, a longtime local resident, member of the City Council and president of the Afton Historical Society. “The businesses and the residents so badly want that place to open up.”

Ross said he grew up with Lerk’s, and he remembers when he and his now-wife of 53 years went there early in their relationship. The tavern was plain, a single room with a bar and tables covered in red-checked tablecloths. The burgers were fried a few feet away from the tables. Bathrooms were downstairs in a basement that sometimes flooded with river water. A 1980 newspaper column said the place didn’t have a phone.

Harold “Lerk” Lind died in 1969. Ruby Lind kept the tavern running with her daughter, Bonnie, before Ruby died in 1993.

Morrison, who spent years working in the hospitality business in Aspen, Colo.; Nantucket, Mass.; and Los Angeles before moving to Minnesota, said he would drive through Afton on his way to Afton Alps. Lerk’s stuck out on Afton’s quaint main street. It still has its original sign out front, along with a notice that says “No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service.”

He met Bonnie Lind, struck a deal, and pushes the project along when he’s not working other jobs as a bartender, selling houses or doing contracting work.

“It’s just me,” he said. “I’m not a rich person. It’s been kind of a long labor of love at this point.”

Plumbing is a hurdle. The place needs a new well, and the septic tank has to go. Modifications to the building required by the Americans with Disabilities Act loom large as well. The site is cramped, with only a 3-foot gap from the adjacent business.

Morrison said an addition on the back could add more seating while keeping the original roofline. A bit of good news waited for him when he first went inside: the original bar made of Nicaraguan mahogany is in good shape.