Lunch at Rennebohm Drug Store: Letters
UW–Madison alumni recall good times at the classic campus hangout.
Wisconsin Historical Society
In our winter 2025 issue, “Lunch at Rennebohm Drug Store” paid tribute to a go-to gathering spot for UW students from the 1920s to the 1980s. The article spurred this outpouring of letters from fans of Rennebohm’s Bucky Burgers, grilled Danishes, and generous UW scholarships.
Preston Schmitt’s “Lunch at Rennebohm Drug Store” brought back a flood of memories.
As a student at Madison West High School, my friends and I would head to Rennie’s after school for grilled Danish and cherry sodas. If I remember right, the bill was probably under a dollar — and worth every cent. Yep, those Danishes are unforgettable!
Rennebohm’s was also where I had my first job, working as a short-order cook for $2.10 an hour. I especially loved the breakfast rush: there was something satisfying about turning out plate after plate of eggs, pancakes, and toast for the morning regulars.
Later, as a graduate student working at the old UW Hospital Service Memorial Institute building, I found my way back to Rennie’s yet again. My coworkers and I would cross University Avenue for lunch, and it became as much a part of our routine as the work itself.
Rennebohm’s wasn’t just a drugstore or a lunch counter — it was a thread that ran through different stages of my life in Madison. I still miss it.
—Robert Nadler ’77 MS’79
My memory of Renebohm’s is being a short-order cook at the Park Street location close to the Beltline. It was my senior year. I was married and starting as a catcher on the baseball team. (Yes we had a team then.) I don’t remember her name but the lady I worked with was great to me teaching me more than how to cook. A great experience.
—Mike Setzer ’69
In the spring of 1965, I was sitting at my kitchen table in Muscoda, Wisconsin, with both parents working on my budget for going to UW–Madison in the fall. I didn’t have enough money. My parents had none to help me. I had started a savings account at the local bank when I was 12 to start saving for college, but it wasn’t enough. I had some scholarships and qualified for work-study. I would be the first from the family. I couldn’t make the figures work.
I told my parents that unless I got the scholarship from Rennebohm, I would not be able to go. I had applied and was waiting for the result.
A few days later, the letter came from Rennebohm. I tore it open at the post office. I enrolled at UW and frequently ate at the drugstore because I owed them so much.
I’m an international human rights attorney now and hope that my work has repaid them and everyone else who helped me get through college. Thanks from the bottom of my heart.
—Dianne Post ’69, JD’79
Every Sunday at the Rennebohm store on University Avenue across from Liz Waters Hall, I got a grilled Elephant Ear and a large orange juice at the counter. Later in the day it was Paisan’s for a french fried shrimp early dinner. The rest of the week in the basement of the Methodist church, I had three squares, eating at $4.50 a week because I washed the pots and pans after dinner. Can’t beat that!
—Mike Gregg ’58, MBA’63
Memories of Rennebohm Drug Store: a banking window where I could cash a check for $20. Seeing the first copy of Playboy magazine. Having coffee in a booth with friends.
—John Manning ’55
Having been a most grateful Rennebohm scholar in my first two years as a first gen student studying physical therapy at UW, I enjoyed the On Wisconsin article on the Rennebohm drugstores that were everywhere during my time in Madison. This fall I enjoyed a tour of the beautiful new pharmacy building with other members of the Women’s Philanthropy Council. Happy to know it’s named for my benefactor, without whom I would never have been able to afford to attend UW.
—Suzann K. Campbell ’65, MS’68, PhD’73
I was last at Rennie’s on State on a cold December morning in 1979 for breakfast. Then I walked to H. C. White library where I wrote my master’s exam in English. Six and a half hours. I was so relieved after that, I must have broken every law about alcohol and highways getting home. Not proud of that part, but mission accomplished. I’m grateful for those days and the university that provided them.
—Todd Johnson ’73, MA’79
One sister is three years ahead in school and the other three years behind, so I overlapped with each one for a full year. It was great to have a sister on campus at the beginning and end of my college years. One tradition was going to Rennebohm and enjoying a bran muffin and coffee. I did this with both sisters. My younger sister and I did it almost weekly and we enjoyed peanut butter on our muffins too. It was a way to connect, and we loved the muffins and the atmosphere too.
—Maureen Gecht-Silver ’77
Having attended UW–Madison from 1958 to 1966, I often found myself in Rennebohm’s at Lake and State. But the day that will forever be imprinted in my memory is the Saturday afternoon in late May 1960 following a final exam in American history. Descending Bascom Hill, several of us headed immediately to Rennebohm’s for coffee and ice cream, there to discuss the final essay question on the test: “Discuss why members of the U.S. Senate opposed the Smoot-Hawley Tariff bill of 1929.” As we began our discussion, one fellow turned white and dropped his spoon. “Wait,” he cried, “are you sure the prof asked why members of the Senate opposed the legislation?” We nodded. “Oh my God!” he shouted. “I discussed why some in the Senate supported it.”
With that, he dashed out, shouting over his shoulder that he had to catch the professor and explain what happened. As it turned out, the professor found his essay worthy of consideration and gave him full credit. Our group passed the course with flying colors!
—Theodore J. Cohen ’60, MS’61, PhD’66
I worked at the Rennebohm lunch counter during my student days. On my usual late-afternoon and evening shifts, the atmosphere was always relaxed and cordial. While visiting with one of the pharmacists on his Bucky Burger break, I learned that he was my third cousin once removed. Badger football coach Milt Bruhn and Madison realtor and future Governor Pat Lucey were occasional customers. My grandparents, Chauncey and Mabel Wolferman, were church friends of Oscar Rennebohm, although I never met him.
Rennebohm treated their employees like family, and as lunch counter staff we were always allowed to consume as many grilled Danish, milkshakes, and anything else we wanted, without charge. Happy memories!
—Richard C. Haney, PhD ’70
I loved “Lunch at Rennenbohm Drug Store.” What a great flood of good memories! During my UW years, I was nearby as I lived at Lowell Hall when it opened as a dorm and then at 252 Langdon Street at the Sigma Delta Tau house. It was a frequent plan to say, “Let’s meet at Rennie’s for lunch.” It was always fun and delicious!
—Patty Eisberg Kaplan ’65
I remember my roomie and I going to the counter in early am to get 2 eggs and toast for 65 cents. Those were the days.
—Brian Weir ’79
Celina Vogt Current: “I remember presenting my first seriously melting banana split to an understanding customer with shaking hands.”
Wow, it was a flashback to see the picture of Rennebohm’s State Street store. I worked there between my junior and senior high school years in the summer of 1956. (I lived in Brooklyn and my girlfriend’s father knew Mr. Rennebohm.) Making Cokes with syrup and soda water and malted milks was a big step above babysitting for two 16-year-olds. On one Saturday morning, we were educated regarding the complexities of being a soda jerk. We were issued uniforms (see photo) and given a work location and a schedule. Little did I know what was coming. I became part of a community. We had our regular customers and really got to know people. It was influential in making me want to be a part of the university culture.
There were some uncomfortable moments. The manager of food services was a little scary, always frowning at us, and I remember presenting my first seriously melting banana split to an understanding customer with shaking hands. We used to joke that the statue representing “Forward,” on top of the capitol, was actually representing Mrs. Rennebohm pointing out the next location for a Rennebohm Drug Store. Happy days!
—Celinda Vogt Current ’61
I remember having a coffee at Rennebohm on State Street and seeing a picture in LIFE magazine of U.S. soldiers in body bags, piled up on a tank after the Tet Offensive in 1968. It is a sad and brutal memory that stays with me to this day.
—John Goodman ’69
Your article on Rennie’s was spot on! It was also one place that cashed student checks. You had to go to the back counter and weren’t required to purchase anything. The amount didn’t matter. For me, they cheerfully cashed my checks for $2, which could buy me eight small glasses of beer at the Pub! Money went a long way back in the day. Thanks for the memories.
—Stephen Halloway ’69
When my parents were dating and both attending UW Madison in 1956, my dad (Ronald Walz ’58) worked at Rennebohm on State and Lake while studying pharmacy. My mom drew a picture for their “Dating Days” scrapbook capturing my dad’s evening shift at the Rennebohm pharmacy counter.
My parents married in October of 1958 and settled in Milwaukee. My dad worked as a pharmacist for over 30 years. My dad would say his career in pharmacy began at Rennebohm!
—Susan Walz Berry ’83
I enjoyed your article on Rennebohm’s. The first I heard of Rennebohm’s was from my Ogg Hall house fellow telling us that it was really Mrs. Rennebohm atop the state capitol, pointing and saying, “Put another one over there!” And although I enjoyed a burger from Rennies, my main memory is a sad one. During my senior year we had a great party at our upper flat out on East Johnson. Most of our college friends were there, and I shot two rolls of film of everybody dancing and partying. I dropped the film off at Rennebohm’s, but when I returned to pick up the pictures it had disappeared, leaving the memories of that night to fade over time. So as an appeal to my classmates of that era, if you are holding on to a stack of pictures of people you don’t recognize, probably having a good time, reach out to me! I’d love them back!
—Gary Anderson ’79
One turbulent night in 1970, my friend John and I were out watching the antiwar demonstrations going on and found ourselves at the corner of Lake and State streets. Suddenly, a large group of demonstrators began throwing rocks. One hit me in the leg, and other rocks smashed the windows at Rennebohm’s. Police and demonstrators then appeared everywhere.
John and I ran up State Street and then down an alley. But the police must have thought we were part of the demonstrators and shot tear gas canisters at us in the narrow alley. I could barely see, and we ended up at a makeshift first aid station at the Hillel center.
We recovered, and a cute girl assured me I would not go blind. But Rennebohm’s never did recover. Ever since that night, the walls facing State and Lake were covered with concrete.
—Jim Hill ’71, MS’76
- My mother worked at Rennebohm’s #1 (University Avenue across from what was then University Hospital) in the early 1950s. There she met a man. She thought he was the homeliest guy she’d ever seen. He thought she was the world’s worst waitress. So of course, they got married.
- I worked at Rennebohm’s #10 — the one pictured in your article, at the corner of State and Lake — in the mid-1970s. There was a guy who came in regularly as a break from studying for his prelims. One day, when I was working the cash register in the cafeteria, he said to me, “Oh, it looks like you have something in your eye.” As he reached toward me, I closed my eyes and he stole a kiss. The next day when he came in, he asked if I’d liked it. I said yes. And about four years later, we got married.
- A joke in my family went something like this: “Do you know who that is on top of the capitol building?” Most people would answer “Miss Forward.” We would then say, “No, that’s Mrs. Rennebohm, picking out the location for their next store.”
—Ruth (Witzeling) Flescher ’79
Interesting story about Rennebohm’s. I searched through some of my estate sale acquisitions from the past and saw that the regular menu had a daily supplement. It had to be typed up and actually dated for the day. Wow, what a buck could buy in 1946.
—Michael Kratochwill ’75, ’89
It was in 1960, with anticipation and trepidation, that I, a junior in the UW School of Pharmacy, reported for work at Rennebohm’s number one, Oscar’s first pharmacy at the corner of University and Randall. I knew that Rennie’s featured the Bucky Burger and grilled Danish as well as newspapers, cigars, and alarm clocks, but I didn’t know much else about retail pharmacy. That summer, I became an intern pharmacist, graduated in 1961, and became a registered pharmacist a short time later. I retired after 50 years standing behind the counters visiting with folks. Only good memories now remain of the corner pharmacy, its soda fountains, its remedies, and especially its customers.
—Ken Onsrud ’61
In the early 1960s, my girlfriend at the time worked as a cashier at Rennebohm. She moved from store to store as was needed. Familiar with the cost of many things, she noticed a significant price difference at the Rennebohm store nearest Sorority Row. Tampax, Kotex and other feminine products were priced higher at the store closest to the sorority girls. Rennebohm knew how to stick it to women.
—Ray Uhler ’63
Your article on Rennebohm Drug Store sure jogged my memory! The Pharm was a go-to place during my four years at Madison. In 1949 I had a lab mate who worked there, on the late shift. She mentioned to me that she was apprehensive going home alone at night, and that her boyfriend couldn’t walk her home as he worked a later job. I said she could call me and I would come over and walk her home. I lived in a fraternity on North Henry Street and was not too far away. She started calling me at the fraternity around 9:30 pm on our only phone, so whoever answered would yell my name and say, “Finke, some girl wants to talk to you!” I would get to the phone and tell her I was on my way. This went on for about two months, and then she said her boyfriend told her not to call me anymore!
And the lab course was ending. I never saw her again!
—Dick Finke ’52
Published in the Spring 2026 issue
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