We walk into our last bar

Hooverville, Seattle, Washington (Sodo district)

“Why are you taking a picture of me?” the man demanded. “It’s weird.”

I explained I wasn’t taking a picture of him specifically. I was taking a picture of the bar for a blog we do about visiting a different bar every week. This seemed to satisfy him.

But he was right. It is weird. For three years we’ve been doing this peculiar thing -- going into places as strangers where friends gather. Taking pictures of the signs outside, stuff on the walls, bottles behind the bar, and sometimes even the restrooms -- and of course the food and drinks (sure, millions of people post pictures of their food and drinks on Instagram, but that doesn’t make it less stupid. Especially when the photo is of something as banal as a can of Mike’s Hard Lemonade next to an empty glass).

This was the last weekly bar visit, so we'd decided to go to two bars to wrap the project up. We decided to start with Hooverville because it’s a few blocks from the hotel where I work, and it seemed like a good idea to go myself to the place I'd mentioned to guests when they ask what's open after 11:00 pm.

It is a good bar, open and airy, but pleasantly divey. Each of the two main rooms has its own bar. The room on First Avenue has walls covered with plenty of funky memorabilia: Coast Guard lifesavers, odd advertisements and signs, cut-outs of Wally and the Beaver, and, of course, the everpresent “12.” The decorations are from many decades, but not much from the twenties and thirties in honor of the shantytowns of the Great Depression. There are no TVs in the room, but The Velvet Underground was playing when we sat down at the end of the bar.

We ordered drinks -- blackberry pear cider for Mindy, apple for me. Most of the other seats were occupied, and there was a dog at the other end. 

And there were dollar bills. Many, many dollars were tacked up around the shelves behind the bar (and even on the ceiling), and almost all of them have the letter H in the circle on the front -- like the bar's logo. "People like giving us dollars," the bartender told Mindy when she asked about them.

Meanwhile, I'd gone into the other room to check it out. The NFL and the NBA were on the TV screens, and there were dart boards and pool tables as well. The man who asked me about taking pictures approached me. After I told him about our project, I asked him our two questions, “What makes for a good bar?” and “Whether you go or not, what makes for a good church?”

He said, “I go to both. It’s different for everybody. You can’t force church on anybody, it’s something they have to decide for themselves.” I asked him what he looked for in a bar and he said, “I need time alone.” I asked for a name to use for the quote, and he was reluctant, but I when I said it didn’t have to be real, he said “Tom.”

The bar was getting busier, and we didn't want to interfere with the bartenders by asking them more questions, so we decided it was time to head to our second bar.

We wanted to end the year with a particular place a few blocks away from Hooverville and across the street from Safeco Field (soon to be T-Mobile Field). Mindy’s dad's name is “Henry,” and he was not enthusiastic about our bar visiting project. His upbringing and choice are anti-alcohol, and he wondered why we couldn’t go to cafes rather than bars throughout the country.

He's a retired pastor, and when he told the pastor of his church (who's younger than Mindy and me) about our project, Dad was surprised that the pastor thought it was a good idea. After that, Dad seemed to warm a bit to the project, sometimes asking about our "tavern" visits.

That's why it really did seem imperative that we finish this project with a visit to Henry's Tavern. We got there at 7:50 on Thursday night, and there was a long line for the holiday light maze and skating rink at Safeco Field nearby and lots of foot traffic on the street. Mindy tried to open one of the double doors, but it didn't open, so she tried the other. It, too, was locked. She looked inside, and the hostess gestured that they were closed. (We noticed that the opening times, but no closing times, were listed on the window near the doors). 

We could see families with small kids finishing their meals inside. Henry's Tavern (probably fittingly) really did seem more like a restaurant than a bar, so we were happy that our last bar in the project was Hooverville.

We walk into tourism

The Pike Pub, Seattle, Washington
The bar we visited this week reminded me of a megachurch. Most bars probably wouldn't appreciate that, but I don't mean it as an insult. For the three years, we’ve been visiting a new bar every week, and we’ve (almost) always asked the same two questions: “What makes for a good bar?” and “Whether you go or not, what do you think would make for a good church?” A few people we talked to mentioned megachurches, saying they don't like them because they're cold and impersonal.

And yet, we know a large family whose kids all have special needs. In their experience, large churches are more likely to be able to minister to their kids. A small -- or even medium-sized -- church can rarely offer what their family needs. This week's big bar offered far more variety than we've seen in smaller bars.

This week we decided we should go Christmas shopping at Pike Place Market after Mindy got off work. It feels a little odd to visit a tourist attraction near your home and work. You get the feeling the place is really only meant for visitors. By the time we got there, the fish-throwing was over for the day, but the comic book store was still open, and that's what we really cared about. We wandered around a few other shops as well, but we were hungry, and we needed to visit our bar for the week. After a bit of fruitless wandering (Pike Place Market is a maze), we decided The Pike Pub seemed like the place we’d go to if we were tourists.

It’s the pub of the Pike Brewing Company. I’m sure many out-of-towners take advantage of the daily brewery tours and visit the Microbrewery Museum. The pub has samplers for trying a variety of beers that I’m sure pair well with the Pike Pretzel Platter.

It’s a large place, two floors with different sections, with plenty of colorful decorations. Plenty of people were there, and though there were several bars, we couldn't find three seats together (our son was with us). We circled around and went back to the hostess stand and asked to be seated at a table.

Happy hour had just ended (it was five after six), so we ordered sandwiches and cider from the regular menu. Obviously, since we were sitting in a booth, we couldn’t chat with other customers. That's why we usually sit at the bar. But while we were waiting for our food, we asked Madeline, one of the hostesses, our two questions. 

She said, a good bar, “I like bars with a welcoming, relaxed atmosphere.” She also noted the need for “delicious libations.”

I asked her if these things were true of The Pike Pub, and she thought they were. (We found all the staff welcoming and very pleasant. But it was busy, so we didn't want to take them away from their work for our questions) Madeline noted that Pike Brewing Company offered guests a variety of possible experiences. The Beer Museum, inside The Pike Pub, had historic alcohol memorabilia as well as the TVs to provide a sports bar feel. One section was more like a traditional English pub. (Upstairs, the newest space was called Tankard and Tun -- more of a comfortable fine-dining place,) We were in the restaurant section, which has a diner feel. There’s something nice about providing different things for different people, especially for hungry, thirsty tourists.

Before heading back to our table, we asked our church question. “That’s so interesting,” she said. “It’s similar things. It should be warm and welcoming. But without the libations, of course.” She said she likes it when a church has warm colors. “And not scary murals depicting Satan” or God as a meanie. She said a church should have “the essence of togetherness and safety.”

New customers were coming downstairs from the street entrance, and Madeline had to get back to work. (I hope she gets a chance to read this. She -- and her colleagues -- made us feel quite welcome in a place that has a bit of an amusement park feel.) She and others at The Pike Pub did a good job of making a mega-bar -- of sorts -- feel homey.

We walk into a pie-shaped bar

Pie Bar, Seattle, Washington (Capitol Hill neighborhood)

It really isn’t fair to visit a bar if we’re in a rush. In a good bar visit, we generally relax and observe, order our drinks, and eventually talk to the people around us. But we were in a rush the night we went to the Pie Bar because our daughter and son-in-law were treating us to dinner and the theater. We’d taken the bus from their apartment, but another passenger warned us that we’d landed on one of the slowest routes at the slowest part of the day. We’d probably get there faster walking, she said (and Google maps agreed). So we got off the bus and did just that, but we were still pressed for time if we wanted to be at the theater when the curtain rose.

Grant was concerned that since Pie Bar is a small place, we might not find seats, but there was room at the bar, where we prefer to be. And the bar was the best place to watch Patrick mix the drinks. While he did, Mindy asked him about his t-shirt. It needed a little translation for us (not Paige) because math was involved.

All four of us ordered savory slices to go with our drinks; Mindy had steak pot pie, I had ham and cheese quiche, Grant had the Seattle pie, and Paige had a chicken pot pie. For drinks, Mindy ordered a Butter Baby (butterscotch schnapps, hot chocolate, and whipped cream) and Paige chose Peppermint Heat (another hot chocolate selection). Grant ordered a key lime pietini, and as an appreciator of the arts, I ordered a Bob Ross (apple moonshine, honey, lemon, orange bitters, and an ice ball reminiscent of Bob Ross’ fro). I probably should have gone with a more pie themed drink, the Apple Pie Mule or the Lemon Meringue Pietini, but I enjoyed what I ordered.

Our drinks safely in front of us, we asked Patrick our two questions.

He said a good bar needed “Ambiance… Do you want more than one word?”

“Sure,” I said, and asked, “What do you mean by ambiance?”

Patrick had many words to add. He said an important part of it is the relationship between the staff and the customers. He isn’t a fan of big bars -- he prefers one that is “cozy,” an adjective that could definitely describe Pie Bar.

He said attention to detail is important, in the drinks, food, and decor. “Is there garbage in the corner?” He said he’s been to places that shove everything to the side of the bar. He said this is much more true of the West Coast. In the East “they know how to make people come back, for 50 or 60 years.”

I asked what came first, the Pie or the Bar? Patrick said that as in the name, the pie came first. Years ago, someone taught him how to bake pies. When the space in Capitol Hill became available, he thought it would be a great place to bake pies. He later realized the place was shaped rather like a slice of pie. (Not unlike our bar last week, The Triangle Pub). He soon realized that the Capitol Hill area had a lot of evening foot traffic, making a bar a sensible choice and bringing together two great things, pie and drinks. Most of the drinks are pie influenced (though I don’t think the pies are alcohol influenced.).

Patrick needed to attend to bar business before he could tell us what he thought made for a good church. When he came back, he said the same word, “ambiance,” would work. He added that the music was important to him -- a good choir. He likes to sing. He mentioned he was Catholic (which makes sense with the name, Patrick).

Patrick asked if we’d be having dessert. All of us really wanted a slice of dessert pie -- the menu has suggested pairing for drinks -- but there wasn’t time for me to decide between the Apple Crumble and the Peanut Butter Chocolate pie, let alone eat either before the show began. We'll have to go back for dessert. We will definitely have to go back for dessert (our treat this time, Grant and Paige).

“Pie” and “Bar” are such short words, but there is so much in each of them. When you put them together, well, that is one tasty recipe.

And we made it to the play in time.

We walk into a very small bar

Triangle Pub, Seattle, Washington (Pioneer Square)
The topic of conversation was country music as we sat down at the bar. Someone was expressing a preference for old school -- up to the Barbara Mandrell, Charlie Pride years. People talked about how depressing country music could be when the songs were about job loss, romantic abandonment, and the death of pets. Mindy asked whether the loss of a truck bothered anyone, which it didn’t. In fact, someone expressed fondness for Carrie Underwood’s destruction of a vehicle.

Mindy and I aren’t exactly country music fans (Mindy has a higher tolerance for the genre than I do) but we were pleased that everybody in the place seemed welcome to join the conversation. When talk moved on to something we knew more about (Jason Bateman’s sitcom history, which moved on to Nellie “Little House on the Prairie” Oleson’s autobiography, and eventually Carrie Fisher’s challenges living her entire adult life in the shadow of Princess Leia.

The intimacy of the bar is a given; the website points out that it’s one of Seattle’s smallest bars. The bar is in the point of a flatiron building. (The original Flatiron Building is, of course, in NYC and was built in 1901. But this flatiron, built in 1910, wasn’t far behind.) The website also brags about the building once housing a brothel, but it was a bar first, and that remains (not the… other thing).

The bar is close the Seahawks and Mariners stadiums. Tracie the bartender told us that the bar is a madhouse on game days, with many people taking the five-minute walk from the parks. Plenty of Seattle fans come, but also fans from rival teams. Tracie said they try to make those fans feel welcome (rumor has it that’s not the attitude of sports bars in Philadelphia).

I noticed pomegranate cider on tap, so Mindy ordered it. I went with a rum and coke. There wasn’t much in the way of food available, though there were chips on the wall for sale.

Because conversation flowed easily, we had no trouble getting answers to our two standard questions, “What makes for a good bar?” and “Whether you go or not, what would make for a good church?”

First, we asked Michelle, who was sitting next to Mindy. “A good bar...A good bar. Where the bartender remembers your name. And what you drink.” She expressed appreciation for Tracie.

Chris, a man sitting near me, added, “A good bar is where Tracie is bartending.”

I asked what a bar should do if they don’t have Tracie. Chris said, “They should have a bartender like Tracie.”

Tracie said it’s important for a bar to have an attentive staff who remembers the likes and dislikes of guests. She actually works just one night a week at the Triangle. She knows the regulars, though, because she was one herself when she began working six months ago.

Michelle and Chris both expressed appreciation for the feel of the Triangle. Chris said a bar should be “Cozy and comfortable; not too sterile. What’s the opposite of sterile?”

Michelle said that in a good bar, you should be able to “kick back and feel like you're in a living room that is not your own.”

Another thing that Michelle and Chris appreciate about Triangle Pub is the convenience of the location. They work in the same building, and they talked about regulars and “upper echelon regulars” (who vacation with the owner).

Michelle was the only person who answered our church question, saying a good church would be “accepting and inclusive.”

Suddenly, Chris announced that it was a special day. “It’s the 85th anniversary of the end of prohibition! Jello shots! Let’s put them on Ethan’s tab!” Ethan, at a table along a wall a few feet away, didn’t seem enthused about having them on his tab, but he was fine with shots. People argued over which color of shot to take (“The blue ones are the only ones with calories”). “Cheers!”

Not one country song played from the jukebox while we were there, though “Escape (The Pina Colada Song),” a celebration of unfaithfulness, did play. The regulars seemed faithful in their love for The Triangle Pub, and that love seemed well earned.

We walk into the oldest bar (it was harder than expected)

The Central Saloon, Seattle, Washington
We thought it would be cool to go to the oldest bar in Seattle -- if we could just figure out where it was.

In other words, Mindy and I wound up at two different places when we tried to meet at Seattle’s oldest bar.

I’ve often passed a bar on First Avenue South with a neon sign reading “Seattle’s Oldest Saloon,” so when we agreed we’d meet at Seattle’s oldest bar when she got off work. Even though Mindy texted me to meet her at “Merchants,” which she’d seen listed as Seattle’s oldest bar, I figured that was the place with the neon. Turns out, that place is called “Central.” At the designated meeting time, Mindy and I texted each other to ask “Where are you?

Fortunately, Merchants and Central are only a couple of blocks apart, so Mindy walked over to meet me at Central. Eventually, we asked Zach, one of the bartenders at Central, about the discrepancy. “The history is murky,” he said. Google had already made that clear (or murky). He told us that Merchants opened in 1890, two years before Central. But in 1890, Merchants was a restaurant, not as a bar. Central opened in 1892 as a saloon, a place you could get a drink. In our book, that means Central qualifies as the oldest bar. (There is another bar in the Georgetown neighborhood, across the Duwamish Waterway from West Seattle, that claims to be the oldest. Georgetown wasn’t part of Seattle when the bar opened. So, no.)

Central does feel old. But good old. It feels like a dive. But good dive. There are photos on the wall that date back to the bar’s opening day. There are many band posters from the 1980s and 90s when grunge made the Emerald City the world’s musical hot spot. Central is still a music place with the slogan “Seattle’s best new music in its oldest saloon.” Three bands were going to play later that evening (after we planned to leave). The one that sounded the most tempting was an all-girl Weezer cover band. Which sounded awesome.

We talked a bit with Michael, Central’s music booker, who did the extra duty of fetching coffee for the bar staff. He also told us a great story about a bar trip in Scotland. The group of friends stood in front of a bar and flipped a coin to decide whether to go in or not. Once inside, they decided whether to have a beer or shots by a coin flip. They hit dozens of pubs this way, and in their final stop just before closing time, they ended up meeting the bar’s owners, who locked the door and all of them partied until 5:00 am.

The Saints and the Cowboys were playing on the TVs. Music was playing overhead, including Joan Osborne’s “What If God Was One Of Us?” You might remember the song, about meeting God on the bus.

We sat at the bar and ordered a few things from the happy hour menu (quesadillas for me and tots for Mindy, with cocktails for each of us). After we’d gotten our food and drinks, our server said, “We’re switching to the night bar, can we close you out and then you can start a new tab after that?” Zach the bartender was coming in then, and “Thank you, Zach, you’re the best!” said the departing bartender.

Zach told us that he’s usually a morning bartender. (There is something fascinating about the idea of a day bartender. It’s unexpected, like being a night lifeguard. Or, I guess, a night auditor.) He said he likes the day shift because then he has the rest of the day -- and the night -- to himself. Working the occasional night shift means recognizing a different set of regulars, and there plenty of regulars there. The bartenders greeted several people greeted by name (and one even got a hug).

Erin was also working behind the bar for the evening. We talked with her and asked her our two perpetual bar questions, “What makes for a good bar?” and “What makes for a good church?” She said, “The staff makes or breaks a bar.” And she likes the staff she works with at Central. She likes other things about this bar, calling it, “timeless, with a lot of history. (It’s) not the Burger King of bars. It has the right amount of grit.” She talked about how, as Seattle continued to grow, this was a place where people still know each other’s first names.

Erin said she grew up on a reservation and had never been to church. But she thought a good church would have “a sense of community” as the most important thing. She said the strength of people is our tribal nature, our need to come together. That's something that can happen at churches and at bars.

As we left Central, I thought of that Joan Osborne song. If God was one of us, would He meet us at Central? (By the way, Christmas is coming. It’s the time of year when we can’t escape the reminder that God became one of us.)