How a Guy Named ‘RONZO’ Loosened Up a Town in North Mississippi

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By Gregory Crofton

Ronzito, Ronzo, Hoka Ron … whatever you called him … the nicknames meant one thing: People liked and knew Ron Shapiro. He was a happy guy, adventurous and funny. And he would listen to what someone had to say.

When he arrived in Oxford, Miss., in the mid-1970s, he didn’t promote counterculture right away — things like bagels from Memphis, the beauty of bike lanes and possibilities of recycling; but there was a twinkle in his eye, entrepreneurism in his blood, and he was full of ideas.

Jon Brick’s new documentary “RONZO” about Shapiro pulls together all the loose ends of his free-spirited, inspiring life and shows how it changed Oxford for the better — one movie, one concert, one meal, and one road trip at a time.

Raised in St. Louis, Ron’s bohemian spirit came to life inside his grandfather’s jazz club, The Barrel (in 1952 Miles Davis recorded a live performance there). Despite or because of that unconventional upbringing, Ron was always good at making friends in school, both with the jocks and the geeks.

He stayed home for college going to Washington University in St. Louis, and joined the same fraternity as Harold Ramis, who later directed the classic “Animal House.” Whether Ron was the inspiration for Bluto, the party animal in the movie played by John Belushi, could not be confirmed by family members, but at least one person in the doc implies that it could have been the case.

Forgetting to re-enroll at college in 1968, Ronzo was drafted into the U.S. Army and served in South Korea during the Vietnam War. He earned a promotion to corporal, and by all accounts, his prank-loving self once again became the star of the party.

Finished with military duty, Ron and his mother found themselves in charge of his late father’s chain of tuxedo stores after his sudden death at 54. Ron gave the management thing a go for a while, but bailed and headed West to ski, and ended up showing movies for a living in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

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He may have developed his love for movies alongside Ramis while at college, but he definitely came up with the idea of starting a movie theater while at Jackson Hole. Ron wanted a job where he could work at night and ski during the day.

After a few years of living in the mountains and establishing a couple of small movie theaters and a film society, Ron followed a girlfriend back to her college, the University of Mississippi in Oxford.

He didn’t necessarily fit right in, according to Brick’s film, but Ron felt like it was a place he could be comfortable, maybe even thrive, and have the kind of cultural impact he wanted.

Oxford is a writer’s town so there was engrained potential. William Faulkner, the most famous Southern writer in the world, lived and died there, which makes it more open to art and culture than most towns. But Ron, being new in town, had to work his way in. He didn’t overnight open what would become his infamous Hoka movie theatre and cafe (1976-1996).

His first job was assisting special needs people at a rehabilitation center in town, which he really liked doing. After working there for a while, Ron found employment at a government-owned pot farm just outside of town, the only one like it in the country.

He got security clearance because of his good military record and soon Ron was able to smuggle joints out, a variety of strains of marijuana from around the world, tucked away in his underwear and in the cuffs of his jeans.

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When he located the old cotton bale warehouse that would become his Hoka movie theatre (named after an Indian princess), he rented it for $175 and had to invest about $12,000 to wire it, build it out, and purchase its used projector. The theatre was up and running by 1976 and the first film he showed was a Charlie Chaplin flick.

Within two years, he opened the Moonlite Cafe adjacent to the screening room by building out the warehouse. He and his motley crew served fresh food by roasting turkeys for its turkey-and-bacon sandwiches and offering things like homemade cheesecake and turkey-and-ranch nachos. It was also a bring-your-own-beer kind of place that thrived as a late night cafe, especially on Sundays.

The Mississippi writer Willie Morris held court at the cafe many nights, often getting a turkey and bacon to go and bringing patrons back to the faculty house where he lived on campus so that the party could continue.

The Hoka was a hot spot for a long time in Oxford. Square Books, now a nationally known independent book store, established in 1979, opened a few blocks away from the Hoka and the two businesses became symbiotic. Square Books brought a stream of writers and other artists to town and the Hoka helped entertain and feed them.

Times got tougher in later years. To help cover expenses — apparently Ronzo didn’t really care much about making money — he began screening at midnight woman-directed porn films, which drew a crowd of frat boys and foreign students, which resulted in a good stream of business.

But at the peak of its cultural influence, the Hoka was a place to see arthouse movies, hear from poets like Allen Ginsberg, and listen to live music from bands like Uncle Tupelo, North Mississippi Allstars, and Bobby Rush. Eventually the business closed, once for tax reasons, and finally for failing a health inspection. Its cafe was known for its flavor, comfort and welcomed weirdness, but not for having the cleanest kitchen.

Some of Ron’s favorite phrases were: “Whatever” and “Go for it.” The sign on his door read, “No Shirt, No Shoes. Who Cares” and “Sorry We’re Open.”

“My mother was here recently and she said if I didn’t own the place she would never come in here,” says Ron in the film, wearing a Minnie Mouse shirt and with a mop of curly graying hair.

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Brick, Ron’s cousin, states in his press kit that he was determined to make a film about Ron’s life, not just the Hoka. After watching “RONZO,” you’ll feel a bit of Ron’s spirit in your toes and it’ll make you think twice about this crazy place called Earth and what YOU are doing on it.

Ron died from cancer at 75 in 2019. At the end of each August, the city of Oxford — it has grown a lot in the last 50 years — celebrates his life with the Hoka Days parade around the town square. People still miss him everyday.

After the Hoka had come and gone, Ron continued to make Oxford his home. He opened a short-lived juice bar, the Main Squeeze — also ahead of its time with its focus on healthy organic smoothies and juicing.

He traveled and then gradually settled back into Oxford as a “literary escort,” which involved him driving authors from the airport in Memphis to Oxford’s Square Books. He told his passengers fantastic stories and sometimes would take them down to New Orleans. It was a real trip.

I arrived in Oxford in the summer of 1997 as a journalism graduate student at Ole Miss (the nickname for the university). My third and final year as a student, I got lucky and was able to share a cheap rental house near the square, just across the street from an old-tin warehouse with a wooden outdoor deck.

I remember being drawn to the ramshackle structure by a painted mural of Porky Pig that read “That’s All Folks.” Turned out I lived right next to the Hoka!

This was 1999, so I missed being able to go there as a customer by a few years. It was easy to get inside and walk around. It was still very cool in all its decrepitude. I decided to write a story about the business for my In Depth Journalism class.

I finished the article but I needed to get in touch with Ron to fact check things before it was published in Oxford Town, a weekly arts publication from the local newspaper, the Oxford Eagle. Finally on a certain date around 3 p.m., Ronzo was back in town.

He was difficult to track down, something that people told me was to be expected. I think he had been in Mexico. He and I met at a bench near the courthouse at the center of the square. He seemed to pop up out of nowhere wearing sunglasses and a T-shirt.

We didn’t get a great feel for each other because we sat side-by-side on the small bench. I read through the facts of my article and he listened. I think he might have had one or two corrections. Then he looked at me and said, “You sure do check your facts,” and got up and left almost as soon as he had arrived.

“RONZO” is being shown at select film festivals around the country. The documentary next screens on Sept. 18th at the Kansas City Film Fest International and will be available to rent or stream soon.

Keep up with the latest news about “RONZO” the documentary here, and watch the trailer below.