John's Cafe
An American Dream of the Pearl’s Edge
By Spencer Heinz
The Oregonian
Original image
It's all in the family at John's Cafe, a longtime
crossroads for breakfast and lunch in Northwest
operated by James "Jimmy" and Christina
Kapsopoulos, and their son, Tom. Here, son
and mom take a break behind the counter.
John's Cafe stands hard against the sidewalk at Northwest Everett and Broadway, a busy corner just a short stack or two below the fancy parts of town.
Someday that could change. Maybe the money parts of town will come, and the texture will change. But for now, patrons say they’ve seen sidewalk moments that include kissing, fighting, singing, skateboarding, dealing, cycling, dancing, a suicide, a low-flying plane, families pushing strollers and couples hand in hand.
Patrons angle in from the weather and find a booth or stool. Bacon hisses on the range.
John's is a pocket-size landing for patrons who are not millionaires and some who might be. They meet at the crossroads: Overhead is Central City Concern's Golden West building of low-income housing; a little to the west stands the glossy surge of the Pearl.
Small neon signs say “John’s Cafe,” but John is not in. He never was. Back in the 1970s, they say, the shop's first owner named it with hopes that a nephew John would join him, but that fell through, and he sold it to a James—James “Jimmy” Kapsopoulos and his wife, Christina.
Christina and Jimmy have owned and operated John's for 33 years—Jimmy at the gas range in a partly open kitchen,Christina serving patrons with their son, Tom. Tom spent his childhood behind this counter and watched it get shorter as he grew taller. Now he is 6 feet, 190 {lbs.} and in his early 30s, and he keeps the banter going.
"My Dad’s like a Greek Dr. Phil,” Tom says. Of his mom: “They call her ‘Mother Christina!’ ”
They get a laugh with that. Tom says you cannot grow up shy here. From the closest of the cafe’s 13 stools, the stove is about three footsteps away. A see-through cooler holds ham, pork steak, hamburger patties, pickles, onions, tomatoes, butter, cheese and fresh steamed grated potatoes.
Hash browns seethe in a thicket on the range. Jimmy presses them with a spatula. It has always been this way. “Back in time,” says R.G. Smith, a patron for three decades. Smith, retired from local police and now working in corporate security, says John’s has long served as a coffee stop for beat cops.
In that vein, Jimmy recalls when a man came by and asked if Jimmy knew who he was. Jimmy says he replied that he didn't give a bleep who the man was, that anyone was welcome.
“I'm the chief,” Jimmy says the man replied. “Just going to check on my guys to see why they come here every day.”
The prices, maybe.
“Breakfast Special,” the window card says.
“Hamburger Steak
2 Fried Eggs
Hashbrowns & Toast
$3.95.”
Then again, Jimmy says, after nine years with the same menu, prices will increase a little this month to keep pace with life at the edge of the Pearl.
“Let me tell you a secret,” he says, then adds it’s one to share: Keep your prices down. That keeps people coming in.
“You're never going to be rich, but you'll make a living,” he says. “You know—the American dream!”
A tragedy brought him here. Born in 1941 in Kalamata, Greece, Jimmy says he came to America in 1970 tor the funeral of a brother-in-law who owned a Northeast Portland grocery and was shot in a holdup. Jimmy attended Northeast Portland's Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church. There he eventually met another visitor, Christina Mahairas, born In Sparta. They married three months later and made their visits permanent.
They bought the cafe in 1973, and they have worked side by side ever since.
“We make the work fun,” Jimmy says.
And they have no plans to change their pace—open 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. weekdays, 7 a.m. to noon Saturdays. They will be here until they are not. Their son says what that means.
“We grew up in here,” he says, “and when it's time to shut the door, it’s time to shut the door. This place couldn't run without my father and my mother and be the way it is.”
John's Cafe has been a fixture at Northwest
Broadway and Everett Street, not far from the
Broadway Bridge off-ramp, for more than three
decades.
Spencer Heinz: 503-221-8072; spencerheinz@news.oregonian.com
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