"Mom and pop businesses made America what it is, not corporations”

I arrive promptly at 3:30 a.m. and Linne's Bakery and Café owner Bill Moore, already two hours into the workday, calls out a greeting over the sound of mixers. Three employees move about the bakery, mixing, cleaning, shifting. “Coffee tastes better in a glass than in a Styrofoam cup,” Bill says moments later while rummaging to find a mug. He already asked my coffee preferences over the phone a day before. He pours refills for employees and I ask if he’s on his first cup of the smooth brew. “I'm on my second, I think. I'll have four or five more.” Celebrating its 125th year in business, Linne's opened in Danville, Illinois and moved to Shelbyville in the 1930’s. Originally housed in the 5-Points building facing Miller Avenue, the Linne brothers relocated to 14 W. Broadway for a few years before finding a home at 115 S. Harrison in 1953. Moore, one of about 130 certified master bakers in the nation, assumed ownership on September 1, 1984. I worked at Linne's as a teenager, so we spend a few moments reminiscing about the shop in the late ‘90’s. Inevitably, Richard Sosbe’s name surfaces. A U.S. Army veteran, Sosbe joined Linne’s as a baker in 1950, beginning a five-decade tenure. In 1992, when Bill’s first wife passed away, he called Richard in the middle of the night to discuss bakery operations for the next several days. Richard's wife handed him the phone, and he hardly listened to the boss’ instructions.

“Don't worry about it. It's taken care of.” True to his word, the bakery was in good hands throughout the challenging ordeal. “When Richard died, I didn't just lose an employee,” Bill concludes after recalling Richard’s heart attacks in detail. “I lost a friend.” With the whir of machines and employees communicating over the noise, Bill invites me to the semi-lit, quiet public seating area. Over the next half hour, he shares philosophies on business and life, interchangeable to him. I’ve encapsulated the contents of this talk by highlighting four of his quotes.

1. “We don’t spend much money on advertising.” Everything is about the product. Revenues are directed toward quality ingredients and he lets word of mouth serve as the primary promotional tool. “When I purchased the bakery,” Bill says, “the industry was going through a transition period.” For instance, customers’ desire for seating led Bill to place tables and chairs for nine. In 2005, Bill purchased the building next door, laying plans for expansion. Although a several-inch-gap remains between the structures, the bottom floors were connected in a seamless transition. Real wood floors, purchased from five different store locations, helped maintain the aesthetic feel of the building. With the expansion, the bakery now seats twenty-four, though it's still tight at times.

2. “This is a fun place to come.” While decorating cakes on Saturdays, Bill enjoys overhearing customers’ comments. An oft-heard remark: “This is a fun place to come.” It’s not just about the food to Moore. It's about families building memories. Bill noted that many who came as children in the 1980’s are now visiting with their kids. The timeless experience of children and parents in the bakery is internalized for the Moore’s. With son and heir-apparent Ben Moore working in the back, the family tradition appears poised to continue. From observation, I note that Ben inherited his father's knack for precision and isn't afraid to double-check any detail of the operation. Bill speaks freely of his wife, Diane, who runs the front house of the bakery, and children. The only family member not in the bakery is daughter Rebekah Thomas, a personal banker at 5/3 in town. But Bill gives her and even his son-in-law unsolicited warm approval. “I love him because he loves her,” Bill says.

3. “I've been called a dinosaur.” You don’t have to speak with Bill long before he shares his obsession with real ingredients and refusal to use what he calls “plastic filling.” Frankly, he excels in aesthetics, but to Bill, it’s all about the taste. “I want the inside of the cake to be as good as the outside. You forget the decorations, but you always remember the taste.” Once in awhile, a customer shows up late in the day, discovers a certain product to be sold out, and asks, “When is the next shipment of doughnuts coming in?” Bill smiles. There is no next shipment. Doughnuts are made from scratch each morning. “I've been called a dinosaur,” Bill says in conclusion, not in the least bit offended. Given his forty-plus years experience, it seems fair to ask about retirement and the eventual transition to Ben. “I'm waiting until he tells me I can,” the elder Moore says. Then he adds, “I wish I had another forty-four years to work in this business.”

4. “We’re here for the customer. We’re not here for ourselves.” As the 5:00 a.m. store opening nears, Bill philosophizes about life-long learning and testing new products. While some veteran bakers stick stubbornly to long-standing methods, Bill isn’t afraid to experiment. After all, he says, “We're here for the customer. We're not here for ourselves." The lights turn on and the first customer, who's been waiting across the street with engine and headlights on, crosses in the cool March air, order in hand. I thank Bill, Diane, and Ben for their time. “If there's one thing I want you to print,” Bill suddenly calls out to me, “It's that mom and pop businesses made America what it is, not corporations.” I leave, knowing I have my headline. One that fairly summarizes the heartbeat of Linne’s Bakery for the foreseeable future.