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 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.)

We walk to the neighborhood bar

Chelan Cafe's Ebb Tide Room, Seattle, Washington
It’s great to be able to walk to a bar. It’s an even better thing to be able to walk home from a bar. This is our second week in Seattle, we moved into a duplex near the West Seattle Bridge on the Fourth of July. We live along the Duwamish Waterway, and from our front porch we can see the Seattle skyline. And Ebb Tide is a bar we can walk to.

Chelan Cafe looks like an all American diner in the front of the building, while the bar, the Ebb Tide Room, is off to the side. You can enter the bar either through the cafe (that’s what we did) or through the door on the side of the building. The bar has a lot of maritime decor, like lanterns, a ship captain’s wheel, pirate flags, and a big “Port of Seattle” sign. Almost as prominent, though, is the other decor theme: the Seattle Seahawks. The number 12, the jersey number which the NFL team retired in honor of the fans (“the twelfth man” playing for the team), is displayed in several places.

But it’s baseball season now, so the Mariners were on TV (not doing well against the Rockies). Another TV showed poker games. Plenty of people were sitting at tables, and the front part of the bar was full, so we found seats toward the back of the bar, then hesitated in confusion when Mindy saw a plaque on the bar in front of her seat saying the spot was reserved. The bartender assured us that we could sit there. We meant to ask about it, but forgot as we decided what we wanted to drink.

Mindy ordered a screwdriver, and I got an Ace Cider (from Graton, California). The bartender gave us food menus. We’d just had dinner at home, so we didn’t plan to order food, but the bartender looked kind of sad and said, “They’re closing soon, but they don’t mind. I told them you were here.”

We ordered onion rings. They were very hot and crisp when they arrived a few minutes later.

A couple of men sat at the bar next to me. After Mike and Jones got their cans of Guinness, I asked if they’d mind answering the two questions we always ask in bars. They agreed.

When I asked what made for a good bar, Mike said, “Good people is the biggest thing, just there to shoot the sh*t.” He said they came to have a good time, talking to people like he was that night. He felt that people were looking for a change of pace from a day at work.

I asked him how important a good selection of drinks was and he didn’t feel it was very important. He likes good whiskey, but there aren’t many places around that have really good bourbon.

Jones agreed, saying a good bar needed, “Good bar conversations. If no one talks to you, they turn their backs, it’s not comfortable.” I asked him if it mattered what those conversations were about. He didn’t think so, though the conversations would often be about sports.

When I asked our second question, Jones said, “Church serves a similar purpose as a bar, a community, a social network.”

Mike said, “I don’t want to sound cynical, but I’ll never go to a church. My mom was kicked out when she was divorced. The people she thought were her friends gave her a cold shoulder. My sister was really religious, but the same thing happened to her.” He said he believes in a Higher Power, but he’ll never go to church. One time Mormons came to his door, and when he told them his point of view, they were dumbfounded. They left, leaving literature behind.

We talked for a while longer, then paid and got up to leave. Jones caught me at the door, because I’d left my notebook and pen behind. I thanked him, and then Mindy and I enjoyed the eight-minute walk home in the pleasant evening light and the very pleasant weather, with the pleasant knowledge that we could always walk back.

 

We walk into a hook and ladder company

Hook and Ladder, Clovis, California
Before we went inside Hook and Ladder, Mindy found a coupon on their website for $.75 off your drink for first-time customers. Sure, $.75 isn’t much, but with two of us, that’s $1.50 -- and then we’re talking money. After we sat down at the relatively crowded bar, Mindy showed Samantha the bartender our coupon. She told us she was sorry, but that website was from four years ago -- before the present owner bought the bar. She said there might be specials on their Facebook page, which they use as a website now.

It turned out that drink prices -- which Samantha told us about before we ordered -- were pretty reasonable without a coupon. We got $4 well drinks (rum & coke for me, cranberry & vodka for Mindy. We didn’t try one, but we heard that nobody makes a better Bloody Mary than Samantha). We enjoyed our drinks and watched some of the TVs (good news for me: Oakland A’s spring training. Bad news: my alma mater San Diego State went down in the first round of March Madness)

As you might guess by the name, firefighter paraphernalia decorates the place. The former owner had firefighters in the family and wanted to honor them. The new owner didn’t just keep the theme; he’s also kept staff and customers through the changeover.

One of those bartenders was filling a glass rimmed with salt with Worcestershire sauce, olive juice and lime juice along with the last of a bottle of Clamato juice, topped with what she could fit of a bottle of beer. With her yellow skirt, red belt and blue top, we were reminded of Snow White, and we realized she was making herself a red beer/michelada (Mindy was proud of herself for knowing what was in a drink she has no interest in ever ordering)

When Snow White finished mixing her drink, she put it up on the bar, walked around to the stool in front of the drink, and sat down to enjoy it. Her shift was over, and the bar wasn’t as crowded, so we moved down and (with her permission) sat next to her.

We overheard her mention that she’s a Disney fan (confirming that she was, indeed, dressed as Snow White; she said it was laundry day). When we asked, she said she’s worked at Hook and Ladder for 16 years, first part-time with the former owner. She was happy to switch over to full time when she had the chance; she’d been working retail along with bartending and was glad to quit that job.

She said she was willing to answer our standard questions, “What makes for a good bar?” and “What makes for a good church?” Bob, a regular who was sitting next to Snow White, was willing to answer as well.

Snow said it was the “people that come in” and good company that make a good bar. The people she was talking about aren’t just the customers, she said, but the staff as well. We asked about the H & L specifically, “I love this bar.”

Samantha, who’d just come on duty and had gotten our drinks, added, “I don’t go to any other bar. I drink here.”

Bob said Hook and Ladder is homey.

Snow said, “It’s not a family business, but it used to be.”

Bob was friends with the old owner, but he stuck around after it was sold, and he said they seem to treat the employees right; “everyone’s the same here.”

We asked what makes for a good church. Bob said he’d gone to CrossCity Christian Church since he was a kid, but “it got too big”.

Snow added, “You want to feel welcome. When it gets too big, you lose that connection.”

We didn’t want to miss Samantha’s answers, so we asked what she thought. For a bar, she said, “Honestly, just the people.” She’d been a customer at Hook and Ladder before working there, and she said, “They tried to get rid of me so hard, they hired me.” We asked what else she liked about the bar. She said that she likes that it’s dark and divey.

We said that that it didn’t seem much like a dive to us, but the others said when it was in its old location across Shaw Avenue, it had been much more of a dive.

As for a church, Samantha said it’s “the atmosphere and environment.” She loved singing the old hymns. She grew up in a Pentecostal church where her family was quite active, and she had quite a bit of fun in the youth group. She still attends church regularly.

It was time for us to head out (I had to go to work soon for my night audit shift). Bob was on his way out as well, and he had one last idea about what makes for a good bar. “Did you get a look at the restrooms? You have to look at the restrooms.” If the restrooms are clean, the ownership still cares about the place. If the restrooms are dirty, it’s on the way downhill.

I should note I did use the restroom at the Hook and Ladder. That wasn't the only reason we left feeling confident that Hook and Ladder would be around a lot longer.