Dan's Diary: June 8

CBS News producer Daniel Baruch is behind the wheel of one of two Early Show Winnebagos traveling the country in June and July as part of the "Great American Vacation" giveaway road trip. Read his Web-exclusive road diary.

After saying goodbye to the Holiday Inn in Springfield, Mo., I decided to seek out a local pancake house for breakfast. I didn't have one in mind, just an idea of what I was looking for. I was certainly not looking for a chain restaurant; those are a dime a dozen. No, I was looking for a 50-year-old building, faded and chipped paint, a hand-made sign, maybe some half-lit neon sign looming over a weathered roof. You know, the kind of joint that just exudes character.

We all know the pancakes at these kinds of places are primo. I spent quite a while seeking out my pancake Shangri La. Then, there it stood, like a beacon of fluffy buttermilk goodness: Aunt Martha's Pancake House.

Upon entering this humble establishment I was greeted by a frail woman who spoke with a robust confidence and decisiveness that betrayed her seemingly compromised physical state.

"I'm not interested, we don't want any, what do you want?" I was taken aback by this uncharacteristic lapse of the unwavering geniality I had grown so accustomed to in Springfield.

"I was hoping to eat," I sheepishly replied noticing that she was eyeing the spiral notebook journal I had been clutching like some holy text. Her consternated expression suddenly eased into a sideways smile of relief, "Oh, my! I'm so sorry, I thought you were tryin' to sell me some book or sumthin. I get these folks all day; of course we'd love to have you eat here, take any table you'd like!" I could already tell she was a character.

The place was pretty empty so I took a window booth close to the counter where the staff was chewing the fat. They hovered around the old woman who was now perched regally on a stool. I had concluded she was Aunt Martha herself; I was mistaken.

As I perused the menu I overheard talk of The Early Show Winnebago parked outside. They quickly concluded that I was the driver and so the questions began.

My table became the center of attention. It was like a current-events homework assignment: Who, what, when, where, why? They were as eager to know about my personal journey as they were about the "Great American Vacation." Once their curiosity was satiated, I began to question them. Wowsers, what a story.

The restaurant itself was named after a musician, Martha Haworth, whose professional performing name was Aunt Martha. She opened the Pancake House 45 years ago with her son "Speedy," also a musician, during the time of the Ozark Jubilee. (What's the Ozark Jubilee? It was the first national country music show on TV and it was produced in Springfield, of course.) A few years later when Martha's health began to fail, she sold the business, along with her secret pancake recipe, to Swede & Ruth Freeman. The Freemans worked together at the popular restaurant for 10 years, but it ended tragically in 1974 when Swede suffered a fatal blood clot. Earlier that same year, Ruth's father had passed away and shortly after Swede passed, so did their daughter, Linda.

Ruth immersed herself in the restaurant, which proved to be a source of healing and therapy. Her friends and family gave her all the support she needed while she blossomed into a fantastic entrepreneur. Decades of success later, Ruth's other daughter, Brenda, joined her mother in the business in 2001. Since then, Ruth's favorite "responsibility" is table hopping, visiting her regulars while they dine. I was fortunate enough to be blessed with a visit … I had to promise to become a regular.

During the past four decades, Ruth Freeman became known as "Aunt Martha"; Ruth doesn't mind. It turned out I wasn't mistaken. I never imagined my silly pancake craving would lead me to such a remarkable tale. Speaking of which, you might be wondering how the pancakes were. I've yet to try them; I was so enamored with Ruth's story I ordered a turkey club.