Formica Mecca : Food, Conversation Keep Customers Coming Back to South-Central’s Jack’s

For 20 years, Jack Davenport has been preparing good food and serving it in hearty portions at Jack’s Family Kitchen in South-Central Los Angeles.

Since opening in April, 1969, the homey eatery on south Western Avenue has become an institution of sorts for a generation of African-Americans. It is a remnant of an era in which nightclubs, ballrooms and theaters made South-Central a mecca of social life, and a Saturday night on the town ended at dawn with breakfast and a trip to church.

Even with changing demographics and the area’s economic problems, loyal customers and new faces still find their way to Jack’s.

“It’s like a small-town place that you might find in the South,” said Cornelius Banks, a 61-year-old retired machinist who rides his bike to Jack’s every morning from his Crenshaw home.

“We talk about everything. Sometimes coming here makes your day. If you’re feeling bad or angry, someone always says something to make you feel better. It’s like home. I’ve tried other cafes and restaurants and it’s a little difficult to get the same feeling.”

Banks and other regulars said they keep coming back for the food, as well as the lively conversations that touch on issues ranging from national politics to community news. A self-described debater, Davenport said he likes a friendly argument and encourages his customers to jump in. He said biweekly dominoes games are an extension of the friendships he and his customers have built over the years.

“We say what’s on our minds here,” Davenport said. “And when we walk away, we’re all still friends.”

Many customers come to Jack’s from as far as the San Fernando Valley, Santa Monica, North Hollywood and Carson. Hal Shawlee, a retired Union Oil executive, has driven to Jack’s from his Laurel Canyon home several times a week for 10 years.

On a recent morning, a waitress remembered it was Shawlee’s birthday and had Davenport pick up the check. Shawlee, who is white, said Jack’s dispels the myth that South-Central is a crime-ridden area without a sense of community.

“Some of my white friends won’t come to this part of town, and some of my black friends won’t come to this part of town,” Shawlee said. “I remind them that people here have lives just like anyone else.”

A block north of Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard, Jack’s is in a plain brick building with plate-glass windows and brown Venetian blinds. Inside, a 30-year-old jukebox pumps out tunes by artists ranging from Aretha Franklin to Randy Travis. Customers sit shoulder to shoulder on swivel chairs at a brown, Formica counter or at one of four tables.

An open kitchen dominates the 40-seat diner. Norman Rockwell-type prints depicting African-Americans hang above the counter, and pictures of Davenport’s sons and grandchildren sit on a shelf near a portrait of Martin Luther King Jr.

Davenport, 55, awakens at 4:30 daily to prepare for a 6 a.m. opening. On most days, a handful of regulars stands outside in the dark waiting for their first cup of coffee, plate-size buttermilk pancakes, steaming hot grits or homemade pork sausage.

A silver-haired man who dresses in chino pants and polo shirts, Davenport is stern yet pleasant. He knows many customers on a first-name basis. And if he forgets a name or encounters a new face, he greets them with a smile saying, “Hey, partner,” or “How you doing, sweetheart?”

Davenport, a native of Phoenix, Ariz., came to Los Angeles in 1957 and got job as a dishwasher in ABC Television’s commissary. He said he got his start as a cook when his boss gave him five dozen eggs and a frying pan so he could practice flipping eggs at home.

“At first, a lot of them hit the ceiling,” Davenport said, smiling. “But I got the hang of it.”

At that time, Davenport and many of his present customers were regulars at a popular barbecue place called Fred’s, which used to occupy the Jack’s site. When Fred’s closed, Davenport picked up the lease for the building. He employs his sister, a niece, one of his sons and a grandson at the eatery.

With $140,000 in annual revenue, Davenport said he still has trouble making ends meet due to high insurance costs and other overhead expenses. Although investors have offered to buy the business, Davenport said he has no plans to leave the neighborhood.

“I’m just one of those people who like it here,” Davenport said. “I spend more time here than I do at home.”

Many patrons echoed Davenport’s commitment to the South-Central community. On one Sunday morning, G.Q. Clemons sat in front of three plates of food, including fried chicken wings, pancakes, eggs, grits, hash browns, biscuits and gravy.

“The price and service are good, and I’m patronizing an African-American business,” said Clemons. “That’s something I’ve made a conscious decision to do.”

And he added with a smile: “I’m a growing man, and this is some serious eatin’.”