PHIL RAASCH was just a little shaver when he settled down on a bar stool at the Rabbit Hutch Café, near the hamlet of Enola, Nebraska. Men were crowded around nearby tables, with a cold mug of Schlitz beer at their elbows, dealing black queens from a Sheephead deck, or tossing pennies on the table in hopes of a winning hand of poker.
Nice women, it was said, never frequented the place.
Raasch remembers those days in the 1930s well. He tagged along with his father and was always on the lookout for peanut wrappers: once he had collected enough wrappers he sent them in for an official Planters Peanuts bracelet, a treasure of no mean value. Even though he is now in his 80s, Raasch still keeps his under lock and key.
By Larayne Topp
Read the entire story in the latest edition of Living Here magazine.
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