We walk into a diner

The Great American Diner & Bar, Seattle, Washington (West Seattle neighborhood)
“I’ve been accused of only writing melancholy songs, which isn’t true. I just don’t usually do them. This is one of my happier songs. It’s a drinking song called ‘Pour Me Some Jack.’”

We just happened to be waiting for some Jack Daniels right then. We were at The Great American Diner & Bar in the Junction neighborhood of West Seattle, but we weren’t drinking the whiskey. We’d ordered the Whiskey Bread Pudding with caramel sauce made with Jack Daniels. (The ciders we were drinking -- Mindy’s Seattle Cider and my Angry Orchard -- went well with the pudding. Sometime I’ll write about why I often order Angry Orchard, but -- spoiler -- it’s mainly because it’s cheap.)

It was open mic night, and as you might have guessed, the above quote was from one of the performers. One person who helps to run the activity actually asked us, “Do you want to perform sometime?” We assured him it would be best for him, the diners, and the world as a whole if we didn’t sing. Nobody wants a repeat of our karaoke night.

Before we came inside, we could hear a woman singing “Ex’s & Oh’s”, which seemed to be her final song for the evening. We heard a couple of other singers that evening, but they performed their own songs rather than performing covers. Some of the evening’s crowd had come to perform, and others came to listen. Everybody was enthusiastic about the opportunity.

The restaurant isn’t decorated in a blatant red, white, and blue bunting, but there are subtle notes of Americana. Six large screen TVs were on around the room, and three of those weren’t playing American-based programs. One had African nature videos from the BBC (America), another had The Great British Bake Off, and a third had a tennis tournament in France. The other three screens had college football (a replay of Arizona State vs. UTSA) and two screens were playing the Mariners/Orioles game -- and there’s not much that’s more American than that. (Even better, the baseball TVs showed the A’s/Yankees scores, and the A’s won. That automatically brightens my night).

I asked our bartender, Jeff, what he liked about the place. He mentioned the great breakfasts, and said he enjoys working on open mic nights and found them fun. We asked him our two questions, “What makes for a good bar?” and “Whether you go or not, what would make for a good church?”

He said for a bar, “definitely being welcoming. That’s the most important thing.” As for what makes for a good church, he said he hadn’t gone for twenty years, since growing up in Pennsylvania. “But it would be the same thing.” Being welcoming.

As we talked, a man came up to pay his bill. He told Jeff, “It’s a school night. I have to get used to that again.” The place seems to be family-friendly by intention. One shelf had a lot of children’s books, and Glen, the owner, said more were on order.

We started talking to Glen after he asked, “Enjoying the music?” We assured him we were, but told him we had no inclination to perform. He told us he and his business partner had made a thoughtful choice to go with open mic rather than karaoke. As we found out at another bar, some people have no idea how they sound, and (especially after a couple of drinks) it can lead to some really bad singing. “I heard one woman singing that put a ring on it song who didn’t get a single note right.”

He answered our two questions but also told us about opening the diner and bar. He said, “There are two types of bars. One has pull tabs, barflies, massive kegs, and people looking to hook up. Folks who drink themselves silly. We’re not that type of place. That’s a bar-bar which is only to make money.”

He indicated the sign behind the bar, the one that said, HOME. “This is my motto, it runs through my operation. It’s not all business, it’s not all about money. I have to go back a bit. Whatever I am is because of my dad.” Glen’s dad grew up in an orphanage (in India), which provided him with an education. He was super fond of America, and especially loved Westerns. “I’m named for Glen Ford.” (Ford starred in over two dozen westerns. My personal favorite of his is 3:10 to Yuma.) “We had LPs, listened to Bing Crosby.” Most importantly for Glen, Americans provided the medical technology and care that had prolonged his father's life by 20 years.

After his father passed away, Glen wanted to do something new. He wanted to make a family gathering place with an uncomplicated menu, a place where nice, decent people could have a drink. One thing that decided him on the location was the proximity to the senior center a block or two away. Seniors regularly come to the diner now, and Glen says, “We know our people. Some come twice a day.” He talked about an older woman who often brings her grandson the diner as a treat, and he said the diner generally plays Sinatra and Dean Martin in the background, not “head banging music.” It’s not that kind of bar.

They strive to serve quality products, angus beef and liquor from glass bottles rather than plastic. He noted that the restaurant business is a hard one with a narrow profit margin for food -- though the bar does a little better.

We asked what made a good church, and Glen said, “I am Catholic. I go to Queen Mary of Peace in Sammamish.” He can’t make it very often because the diner is open seven days a week, 8:00 am to 11:00 pm, but he tries to get there once a month. “You sit, and it sorts your head out.”

I think a church can offer much more than that, but with The Great American Diner & Bar, Glen and his partner have made a place where people might also be able to sort their thoughts. Or sing. Or listen. Or enjoy some really good food and drinks. America is full of such places. That might be another reason that Glen loves this country.