For more than 40 years, John "Jack" D. Mooney, served up fried chicken, his special "jo-jo" potatoes and a side of one-liners that often had people lined up on Penn Avenue N. as they waited for a table inside the small pub on Minneapolis' North Side known as Mooney's.
"The food was that good and the place was that small," said Mooney's son, John Mooney Jr. of St. Michael. "It was a shoebox of a place. On Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, they were lined up. ... It was good ol' American blue-collar food."
It was more than a good place to eat; it was the place where gregarious Jack Mooney made everyone feel at home. "People just wanted to be Dad's friend," his son said.
Jack Mooney, 87, died May 2 of complications from congestive heart failure.
Mooney, who grew up in Rock Lake, N.D., set his sights on running a pub while standing in London's Waterloo train station. World War II was on, and Mooney, a machine gunner, was on his way home after a German tank killed three of his buddies, tore out one of his eyes and left shrapnel in his skull.
He noticed a sign across the street for Mooney's Pub. It drew him in for a beer, and he decided to open his own pub back home.
Mooney put up his own shingle in the 1950s. "He built it up from the ground up," said daughter Therese Mooney of Minneapolis.
It was the place she and her siblings, along with cousins and some neighborhood kids, grew up.