What Would You Do With The Defunct Busch's Grove?

My editor pulled open the lower drawer of his ancient rolltop desk and took out the bottle he keeps there. It must be tradition, because it seems all the legendary editors, from Pulitzer to Bradlee to Baer, keep their hooch there. 

"None for me," I told him.  He shrugged, poured himself a short one and knocked it back. Then, he re-capped the bottle and put it back into its nest. The drawer stayed open--there were two other reporters in the waiting room. The boss is logical to a fault. Why shut a drawer when you're only going to open it again in a couple of minutes?

"This is your assignment," he told me: "I just handed you $5 million. What  would you do with the Busch's Grove property at 9160 Clayton Rd. when it closes on Jan. 8?"

"I hope this is hypothetical," I said.  "If you hand me five mill you'll never see me again."

He ignored me. "What would you do with this White Elephant," he asked?

Then he said, "I want five hundred words. And the deadline is today." 

"And I want 5 million smackers," I said.

"And don't forget the photos." The man's a great listener.

So, what would I do if I had $5 million to put into Busch's Grove?

First, I looked at the property's history. The land was first developed in 1855 as a 10-mile house, that is, as a regular stopover for the stagecoach travelers of the day who were making their way due West out of St. Louis. A store, a saloon and a hotel were all on the land.  It was like the giant truck stops of today, with one addition: It was also known as a "pleasure resort." For some reason, I don't think miniature golf or video games were involved.

The name "Busch" was attached to the property in 1890 when John Busch bought it and made it famous as a restaurant. But, you need more than food to stay famous; you need publicity. In the 1890s, like today, that means big names. I'm not talking Lindsay Lohan or Snookie, either. We're talking a span of 121 years here, right up to this Friday. Imagine a place where the giants of the world regularly made it their 10-mile pit stop. Teddy Roosevelt, Harry Truman, Babe Ruth, Will Rogers, Jack Buck, Harry Caray, Stan the Man and Charles Lindbergh all patronized the place. The Web site states that, legend has it that Lindbergh asked for directions to the restroom and the manager joked, "You can find your way across the Atlantic, but you can't find the men's room?"

If I looked around, and I did what every other investor with a couple of million burning a hole in his pocket is doing, I would turn it into a shopping center, with half of the property going to a Wal-Mart and a multiplex cinema, and a gourmet sandwich shop or two. I'd make the other half a giant parking lot with free parking.  The people of St. Louis would have turned down complimentary tickets aboard Noah's Ark if we'd have had to pay to park.

But this is Ladue. You could no more sneak in a Wal-Mart than you could sneak onto the back nine at St. Louis' Bellerive Country Club. No, the choice has to have class.

I thought about rebuilding Busch Groves in its original image, with wooden sidewalks, a saloon and dancing; a rich-man's Laclede's Landing; an acknowledgement of Ladue's rowdy beginnings. OK, so eliminate the "pleasure resort." Put a spa there instead.

But this is Ladue. It is our area's preeminent bedroom community. The citizens like their quiet anonymity. Remember New Year's Eve in Ladue proper?

I thought about making it a green space. Yeah. Go a step further than the idea of remaking the plot into a naughty '90s theme park. Take it all the way back to when it was a natural landscape untainted by developers and travelers and entrepreneurs. All it would take is a bulldozer and a decade or two of natural selection. By then, it would be as pristine as a caveman's backyard.

But it wouldn't take $5 million to accomplish. 

I trudged back to my editor's office. I tossed an imaginary package on his desk.  "Here's your $5 million back," I said. "The only thing I could come up with was to give it back to nature."

He opened the desk drawer and poured me a stiff shot. 

"Go ahead, you've earned it," he said. 

Then he slid the imaginary package back to me. "Keep it. You earned that too."  

If you have a job offer for any of the 40 out-of-work employees from Busch's Grove, e-mail tim@buschsgrove.com.