At Southside Wood Company, an eccentric Groundhog Day tradition

The annual Groundhog Day celebration at Southside Wood Company dates back 58 years, according to Frank Schloegel III, who owns Southside and co-owns Woodyard BBQ, both of which sit on the same piece of property at 3001 Merriam Lane, in Kansas City, Kansas.

“The old police chief in Fairway, a man named Brazelton — he’s dead now — saw a bunch of smoke coming out from the old Southside location, off Merriam Lane and Roe,” Frank III, who is 73, said on Monday afternoon. “He stopped by and found my dad, Frank Jr., smoking some meat. They got to talking, he stuck around and ate some barbecue, then they invited some more people and did the same thing the next year on Groundhog Day. It’s been going ever since.”

“It was a big deal with my dad and his friends,” Frank III continued. “Then it fell off, and me and my friends resurrected it. We’d have a couple hundred people here every Groundhog Day, eating barbecue, drinking beer. Now my friends are all dying. So I guess now it’s up to my son and his friends to keep it going.”

On Monday, it was closer to 50 or so folks that passed through Woodyard BBQ starting around noon — a family-and-friends mix of old-timers (contemporaries of Frank III) and the thirty- and forty-something members of Frank Schloegel IV’s generation (he’s 37). Free ribs, burnt ends and Miller Lite cans were consumed, and donations were accepted to the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. Frank III moved from room to room, chatting with pals and distributing the traditional beverage of Southside’s Groundhog Day party, a harsh-tasting creation known as a “grundy.” Though both Frank III and Frank IV evaded questions about its ingredients, the grundy seemed to contain whiskey, as well as raisins, which sunk like rocks to the bottom of the dentist’s-office-sized paper cup in which they were served. Guests grimaced as they politely washed down their grundies. 

“Fifty-eight years they’ve been doing this thing?” a Schloegel cousin asked. “Do we really believe that? Is there some kind of verification on that date? Seems suspect somehow.”

Frank IV dutifully perpetuated the legend: “We know that it is the 58th year because of a 1982 article in the now-defunct Kansas City Times, which quoted my grandfather, who estimated that it had started 25 years before 1982 and who was also known never to speak an untruth for the sake of publicity or sales.”

There was no ceremony of any kind involving a groundhog spotting its shadow, and there was nothing to suggest that any such ritual has ever been a component of Southside’s annual Feb. 2 party. There was, though, a metal statue of a groundhog resting atop a wooden ledge on the patio. It has its own story.

Twenty-two years ago, Frank III commissioned a metal worker to build a groundhog statue for $300. For two years, it served as a kind of mascot for the Groundhog Day party. Then one day, somebody stole it off the property. It was missing until — 

“Hey, Frank,” an older gentleman called over from the next table. “A place over by me is selling baby-back ribs for half price all month. Great deal. You ought to go check it out.”

“I’m just the wood guy,” Frank III said. “Tell Ciaran [Molloy]. He’s in charge of all the food decisions. I’m just the partner in Woodyard.”

“A silent partner,” the man said.

“More like a verbal partner,” Frank III said. “I’m not very silent.”

Back to the story. Three weeks ago, Frank III got a call from a man who remembered the groundhog statue from the old days. “He says to me, ‘I saw the metal groundhog at the Swap N’ Shop at the 63rd Street Drive-In, and I bought it for $225.’ He says, “I’ll sell it back to you if you want.’

“I said, ‘I’ll give you what I paid for it — $300,'” Frank III continued. “A few days later he comes by and drops it off. I gave him $250 cash and $50 in barbecue, and there you go, the groundhog’s back.”