By Laura Leedy
Illustration by Sean McArdle
Photos by Jason Kaye

His opinions are served up about as often as his doughnuts. Paul Klingelheber, owner of Palcho’s Donut Shop, has little tolerance for the many vices found in college towns, namely Kent. And he isn’t afraid to let people know about it.

“Most of you are drunken idiots,” he says, referring to Kent State’s student body. “It’s a shame. You’re all followers: ‘I’ve gotta drink, I’ve gotta smoke, I’ve gotta do drugs.’ I cannot understand the attraction.

“The guys I hung out with in high school, we’d lift weights on Friday nights. We just didn’t go along with that. You tell me one thing that alcohol does good.”

Klingelheber, 42, has worked at Palcho’s Donut Shop, 911 E. Main St., since January 1983, just a few months after his friend Tim Palcho got his grandfather’s secret recipe and started the popular doughnut shop. In June 1985, Klingelheber bought the business and made doughnuts his life.

Someone Klingelheber has known since high school, before he became permanently scented with the sweet treats, is Steve Carter. The two met at Chapel Hill Cinemas when Carter applied for a job and Klingelheber was the head usher.

“My very first words to another usher after I met Paul were, ‘I’m gonna kick his ass,’” Carter says. “He was terribly gruff to me because he was a head usher, and I was new. But, he’s mellowed out a bit since high school.”

Many people, especially students, who have visited Palcho’s and encountered Klingelheber may identify with Carter’s experience.

Klingelheber knows that his appearance — about six feet tall and 240 pounds with a shaved head — can seem intimidating. Although he admits he has strong opinions about how some Kent State students look, he has no apologies.

“They’re freaks,” he says, emphasizing his point by adding a few expletives. “I’m hard-core when it comes to that. Their point of view is that they look fine, but I don’t think so. I had a girl come in here, and she had all kinds of earrings in her face and ears and tattoos across her knuckles that said ‘NAZI.’ Can you believe that? Nice, huh? I just wanted to ask her why. At times I want to, but it’s none of my business.”

Carried by his momentum, he takes a quick breath and continues.

“It’s like drugs and drinking and all that other stuff. People ain’t going to stop doing it because I don’t like it,” he says. “I’m sure there are a lot of people out there who don’t like my point of view, and that’s OK with me.”

Carter says although Klingelheber’s opinions may cost him some business, that is how he chooses to run his shop.

“I think he’s developed a prejudice, especially against college students,” he says. Starting to laugh, he adds, “He’s chased more than one out into the parking lot. And it’s not just the students.”

Carter recalls a story Klingelheber told him about an older woman who came into Palcho’s and complained about the doughnut prices. After telling the woman that it was a standard price and hearing her continue to complain, Klingelheber told her she could take her business elsewhere.

“He can be tough to talk to,” Carter says. “If the man or woman is a little indecisive, he can be curt. I would say he comes across as gruff. He may say business-like. But he’s always been like that.”

One person who sees the opinionated, vocal side of Klingelheber almost daily is one of his employees, Leah Hilliard. The wholesome-looking Kent State freshman has worked at Palcho’s for about a year. For the last two hours of her four-hour shifts Monday through Thursday, she and Klingelheber work together, catching glimpses of daytime television.

“We’ll watch talk shows sometimes, like Montel Williams, and they talk about all those teen-ager problems,” she says, with a curious smile growing on her face. “He calls them young punks. He doesn’t like the grunge look at all, and he doesn’t like pierced things. He just likes people to look nice.”

Hilliard says Klingelheber is always pleasant to her, even when she does something wrong.

“He’s really nice to work with,” she says. “He kind of reminds me of my dad, because if I make a mistake, he just laughs. He takes an interest in my life, and I think that’s really cool.”

Although Klingelheber spends 70 hours a week at the doughnut shop and claims to not have been on a date in more than four years, he does get out one night a week to socialize — Fridays, for the He-man Women Haters Club meeting. The group, which consists of about five divorced men, borrowed the name from the Little Rascals. Their meetings are an evening of playing cards and bashing exes.

“Playing poker on Friday nights is the only way he can have some recreation,” says Carter, who is also a club member. “He works so much, being self-employed, and there are a lot of disadvantages to it. It limits his social activities.

“We had a meeting a while ago. Paul had a tantrum, which is kind of usual. He lost on a particular hand and threw his cards across the room. So, we just picked up the cards and kept on playing. You know, men are just children who are grown up.”

When Klingelheber is at work, though, he is all business. One customer who appreciates Klingelheber’s knack for doughnut making is Brian King. King’s favorite Palcho’s snack is the day-old dozen for $2.50.

The 1998 Kent State grad, who studied criminal justice and likes country music, big belt buckles and cowboy boots, says the John Wayne memorabilia at Palcho’s is nearly as good as the doughnuts.

“He’s a good guy, and he’s a John Wayne fan, so that’s a plus,” King says. “He’s a hard worker, no doubt, and he knows what he’s doing when he makes doughnuts. And he makes damn good doughnuts.”

King jokes about having been a criminal justice major and enjoying a good doughnut every once in a while. But Klingelheber doesn’t take kindly to the stereotype of police officers hanging out at doughnut shops.

“There’s a stigma about that,” he says, shaking his head. “Police officers don’t like to be associated with that. In an entire year, we don’t get more than four or five. The police out here do a really good job, I’ll tell you that much. It’s the drunken college kids. I’d want to bust some heads myself.”

The bottom line is what it all comes down to with Klingelheber. Owning a store and working long hours demands a lot from a person, but he says he’s satisfied.

“You’ve got to have a really strong work ethic, and luckily I’ve got that,” he says. “I’ve worked here 15 years, and I’ve never missed a day. But, it’s like anything else. If you’re making money, you’re satisfied. If you’re not making money, you’re not too happy.”

Klingelheber uses some of his money to make others happy, namely his mother. A few months ago Klingelheber bought his mom a ‘96 Toyota Corolla.

“I’m a nice guy, a good guy,” Klingelheber says. “I help people. People who don’t know me wouldn’t know that. It’s all about perception. But perceptions can be wrong. Like freaks — I see them in my eyes and I say, ‘You’re an idiot.’ They may be the nicest people, but looks count in the beginning when you don’t know people.”