September 15, 2007

This southern kitchen shall rise again
Tom Hennessy, Columnist

It was Aug. 10, and the usually upbeat Cheryl Carter was doing something totally out of character.

She was crying in the parking lot of her Johnny Rebs' restaurant on Long Beach Boulevard.

Carter had reason for doing so. An early-morning fire had just ripped through the eatery known for its southern cooking, peanut shells on the floor and the fact that Carter opened it herself in 1983.

She recovered quickly, however. This past week, she was bubbling over with plans for a new edition of Johnny Rebs', one she hopes to reopen in January, thanks in part to help from the city of Long Beach.

"The city has been so supportive," she says, "and the Fire Department was so quick to get the fire out safely, which probably

Others helped, too, with cards, e-mails and, in one case, a gift of $25, rebuilding money given to Carter by a woman whose husband is out of work.

To some of J.R.'s loyalists, the restaurant means that much.

Meanwhile, Carter inventories her blessings, such as the fact that only four workers have left her employ since the fire. The others are working at Johnny Rebs' locations in Bellflower, Orange and Victorville.

She remembers how those four restaurants got their start.

Flashback to 1982

She was Cheryl Lester when she was graduated from Cal State Fullerton and met Larry Carter. The two were introduced by Cheryl's sister, DeNell, who worked for Carter as an accountant. He hired Cheryl, then 23, to explore the feasibility of a couple of businesses he was exploring.

But Cheryl had a yen to get into the restaurant business, especially a restaurant with southern cooking as its base. This adapted perfectly to Larry's tastes. Raised in Winston-Salem, N.C., he encouraged her to go east, then south.

She did just that. Walking into the unfamiliar Snook's Barbecue in Advance, N.C., she said she would work for free if Snook himself would teach her the business. He agreed, but insisted on paying her.

Cheryl worked for Snook without ever knowing his last name.

"It was mostly a take-out business. He took me on in his kitchen and taught me how to stoke a fire in a way the Air Quality Management District would never allow me to do in California. And he taught me how to make money in the restaurant business."

One memorable day, he took Cheryl to his work shed where he kept business records plus mason jars filled with "white lighting." Snook, who has since died, drank. Cheryl sipped. Barely. "That stuff was really tough," she says.

When, after four months, Cheryl decided to move on, she returned all Snook's paychecks.

Southern trails

She tried other locales, such as a Lexington, N.C., barbecue run by a man named Wayne Monk, who had catered for President Ronald Reagan at Camp David.

"I didn't just want to learn barbecue," she said. "I wanted to learn other southern cooking as well; biscuits, fried chicken, collard greens and so on.

"At an Atlanta barbecue, I once cooked 1,500 biscuits from 5 in the morning until 11 a.m. It was horrible. While I was making them, I could hearing people coming in for take-out orders. I'd hear, 'I'll take another dozen biscuits to go.'

"There was more. When I finished baking biscuits, they had me mop the floor."

Her studies done, she returned to Long Beach during a bit of a boom in the southern barbecue trade. "It was a time when Tony Roma's was opening places across the county," says Cheryl.

Thinking southern cookery might work in these parts, Larry Carter found a long-abandoned business that had been known as Capshaw's Saloon. He financed the project, but had little to do with it.

Says Cheryl, "He'd just opened another business in Michigan, and he went there. He was available to me by phone, and he'd come by now and then. But basically, he stayed out of my business. Later, when we got big enough, he would do our accounting."

When Cheryl first showed Capshaw's to her family, her mother nearly cried because it looked so unpromising.

Still, Cheryl plunged ahead. Working with a carpenter, Dan Crist, she remodeled the one-time saloon, then sewed drapes and painted furniture. She also received help from John Ingalls, a high school chum of Larry's.

In 1983, she opened J.R.'s and hoped for the best. The best came, although in somewhat unnerving fashion.

About a month after opening, 22 of what Cheryl assumed were Hell's Angel's bikers showed up.

"I tried to get them to order their food to go, but that didn't work. They sat down and to my surprise were quite polite. At the end, as they left to leave, each handed a business card to the other diners. It turned out they were part of a group, Bikers for Christ."

In 1991, Cheryl and Larry Carter were married. Given Larry's family reputation for being frugal, they honeymooned at the Airport Marriott.

"I'm sure Larry got some kind of deal," says Cheryl, who also notes that J.R.'s turned a profit before Larry proposed.

As the business expanded, it took on Clay Carter, a son from Larry's first marriage. Having majored in restaurant management at Cal Poly Pomona, he works full time in helping manage the business.

When asked what changes she plans for the redone Johnny Rebs' on Long Beach Boulevard, Cheryl quips:

"I'm just correcting all the mistakes I made 20 years ago."