L.D. measures his life and business by his friends and family

By Nick Robbins

January 26, 2005 | The smell of coffee brewing, hamburgers frying on the grill, the crunch of crushed ice being dropped into empty cups and the whispers of local gossip ignite my senses. As the cool air rushes in from the front door into the small cafe where I sit, I realize this is what makes life worthwhile.

I was first introduced to L.D. Bowcutt as I paid my check at the cafe named after him. I asked the waitress Rebecka Cooper if she knew of anything interesting happening in town, or anyone who had an interesting story to tell. As if by instinct, her arm lifted and pointed to the man sitting at the end of the bar.

"L.D." she said. "He owns this place. He's got a story."

I was initially drawn to L.D.'s cafe because of my own childhood. My grandparents owned and operated a small cafe on the Blackfoot Reservoir. I love the charm and atmosphere such "Mom and Pop" stores hold. The human touch. In a world of hustle and bustle, high-speed Internet, business meetings and fast food, it's good to know places like L.D.'s still exist.

Seventeen-year-old L.D. Bowcutt came to Richmond in 1955 when his father bought a pool hall in the area. However, L.D. was born and raised in downtown Salt Lake City at the Keith Hotel that his family owned and operated.

After moving to Richmond, L.D. took over management of the cafe in 1959 when he was only 21-years-old. The pool hall his father initially bought is still connected to the cafe. L.D. has spent the past 45 years of his life devoted to his family, and of course, the cafe.

I asked L.D. what he considered his biggest accomplishment. "Well," he said, "I guess I'm different. I don't measure accomplishments by the things I've got, or the things I've done. I measure accomplishments by my friends and my family that surround me."

L.D. has seen the world fly by his front window. He has saved lives and seen them slip away. He's been a makeshift marriage counselor and saved many reputations. All within the walls of his diner.

"I've saved lives and broken up barroom brawls," he said. "We have had people have heart attacks right here in the restaurant," he said pointing to an area on the floor.

"This place has sort of become a hub. You don't get that anymore with people. They are in such a hurry."

So what draws customers to L.D.'s? The food is homemade, the conversation is real and the restaurant is reliable. The cafe has remained relatively unchanged over it four decades of operation.

"L.D. is just good people," said Madeline Sorter, operator of the liquor store a few doors down. Sorter's daughter, Kathy, has worked at L.D.'s for 16 years. "She loves it there, I guess that's why she's never left."

Cooper refilled my drink and leaned against the counter, "It's like a family here. Whenever someone has a problem, we all rally around."

Three years ago, L.D. and his wife Ann watched as their house burned down. Everything including his dog was lost. "The only thing left was my family and this cafe," he said.

"The cafe is what keeps him going," Ann said. "I know he'd go crazy if he didn't have this place, and I'd probably leave him," she said with a laugh. "He'll retire from here when they put him in a pine box."

Ann and L.D. met in the ninth grade and have been married for nearly 50 years. "What I love most about L.D. is his kind heart and his zest for life," Ann said. "I've never met anyone like him."
L.D.'s Cafe has survived five wars, 10 presidents, and several recessions. "Life changes and you automatically have to move with it," L.D. said. "That's why it's nice to have a place like this to come back to. That's why we have our regulars."

"I've seen good times and bad, and I have been happy throughout them all. I know how fragile life is, it can slip away. Each particular phase of life brings you happiness in a different sense."

When L.D. isn't at the cafe, he can be found boating, fishing, and hunting at his Bear Lake cabin with Ann, their three daughters and their families. "It's nice to have your family around you and to know they're happy and in good health," he said.

"My life has been wild, but right now it's comfortable."

Thanks to "good people" like L.D. we can all be comfortable and put aside our worries and troubles. For two hours that's just what I did. I opened the door to a small cafe in Richmond, and let time stand still over some good conversation, a homemade burger, fresh-cut fries and a Coke.

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