For the Post

OMAHA, Nebraska

When Czechoslovaks fled communism following World War II, many ended up in this Midwestern U.S. city, where they were always welcome to a free meal at a place called the Bohemian Café.

"In the 1950s, this was an oasis," says Terry Kapoun, 54, a Czech-American whose grandparents owned the popular restaurant. "There were a lot of displaced people coming from Czechoslovakia heading out west, and they always knew if they didn't have money, they could have a meal here."

The restaurant was founded in 1924 by Louie Marcala, an immigrant who sold it in 1947 to Kapoun's grandparents, Josef and Ann Kapoun Libor. Ann was from Kladno, 30 kilometers (18.6 miles) west of Prague.

Word of the Bohemian Café and the generosity of the family who ran it quickly spread through immigrant communities in New York City and Chicago. In all, some 1,000 Czechoslovak émigrés stopped by the restaurant on their way to start new lives elsewhere. They filled their bellies with hot meals, gathered around a piano played by Josef Libor himself, and sang polkas into the night.

The restaurateurs also sponsored Czechoslovak families so they could attain U.S. citizenship.

Though its days of aiding émigrés may be over, the restaurant still plays a critical role in preserving Czech culture in a region of the United States where a lot of a Czechs ended up settling.

"We have people that have been coming here for 30, 40 years," Kapoun says. "They say, 'When I was a little kid, my grandparents brought me here and it looks the same.' "

A family effort

Seven days a week, three generations of the Kapoun family arrive at the Bohemian Café by 4 a.m. to prepare svícková, dumplings, sauerkraut and other specialties. The restaurant serves approximately 40 gallons of sauerkraut, 50 gallons of sweet-and-sour cabbage and 2,400 dumplings every week.

"We've added some things to keep up with the times," Kapoun says. "But we still have the svícková, the Czech goulash, the jaeger schnitzel, all the roast pork and roast duck. It's the same recipes people grew up on in Czechoslovakia. We try to keep it as authentic as possible."

The cuisine is in keeping with the Kapouns' larger efforts to keep their Czech heritage alive, although the family assimilated into American culture long ago. "You're here in the United States, your son is playing baseball, and it's easy to get away from it," Kapoun says. "You probably say, 'I'm Czech,' but a lot of us don't get involved with, like, gymnastics.

"From the 1920s to the '60s, every Czech kid went to the Sokol and got into gymnastics. Now, they're playing baseball and basketball. It's not that you're not as proud as ever, but you're here and you are American."

Still, a look around the Bohemian Café suggests that the Kapoun family has not forgotten where it came from — or the reasons why their countrymen fled. A yellowing poster that screams "Russians, get out of Czechoslovakia" still decorates the restaurant's office door.

The family tries to keep its Czech culture alive through language as well. Ron and Eddie Kapoun's daughter, Sonja, is fluent in the language, and gives lessons every Monday evening at the Bohemian Café. She named her own daughter Anna. Of course, she pronounces it the Czech way: Ahhh-na.