REVISITING THE PARK | Drinking, fighting and other fun stuff
It’s time to pay homage to a feature affordable by all in many neighborhoods: the tavern and the 25-cent schooner! Not to exceed 4 percent by hydrometer weight, Olympia was 3.6 percent and Rainier, 3.8 percent. That small amount of alcohol could get one into serious trouble driving home with the “blue meanies” out on patrol.
It was a simple refrain, “Have you been drinking?” followed by a serious reprimand and an order to park the car and take a cab home. If a quick radio call made it apparent you’d been stopped before, it was Barbwire Manor time and a $50 fine.
In the early ‘40s Mom, Dad and neighbors in the Riverton Heights neighborhood would go to Trudy’s on state Route 99. We young tykes were given Hershey candy bars about the size of a VHS tape, filled with nuts to pacify us as we sat in the car, while the parents mingled.
Inside, most folks were happy with the 25-cent beers and 35-cent wine. It was common to hear, “Buy the house a round!”
No guns allowed
Men primarily frequented the taverns in Madison Park in the mid-‘40s. A woman would occasionally enter with her husband or boyfriend and socialize in the taverns under cover of darkness. Rumors in neighborhood taverns sometimes occurred before the fact.
All bars closed at midnight and on Sundays in Washington state. That gave Bowling Ball Harry, a neighborhood bootlegger, a chance to make a living selling 4 Roses Bourbon at $10 a pint (Sunday prices).
At some dance clubs like Parkers and Spanish Castle, one was allowed to bring in any hard liquor in a brown paper bag and then mix cocktails under the table. A setup was 7 Up or Tom Collins mix and ice at $1.75, delivered by the wait staff.
Chinatown had several dance clubs that opened at midnight and served drinks at a slight increase in price. The Wah Mee was a favorite in the ‘50s. Hank, the owner, issued me a membership card, No. 69. Because of the crowds, it was imperative to buy several drinks at a time.
The dance floor was small and crowded; fights happened frequently. But Hank ended them so quickly, they didn’t even disrupt the dance. Never a gun, though: Hank didn’t like you if you pulled a gun.
One block west was Bob Kivo’s 605 Club, which had the same rules.
The China Pheasant was two blocks north, with live bands playing occasionally.
In all of this bar- and club-hopping, you could be sure to find a friend from Madison Park — Seattle was very small then. Many Madison Park-ites enjoyed the party scene beyond midnight!
Not very far away were very private clubs mostly in apartment buildings, where booze was served and one could partake in gambling, but firearms had to be checked at the door. It was generally a friendly place with dance music, where one could always find dance partners.
Heading farther out
In the Skid Road area (now Pioneer Square) there was a place called the Basement, which sported a huge dance floor. It was a few doors south of Ivar’s second location, which was mostly takeout.
Down two flights of stairs was the largest most eclectic group of people imaginable: shipyard workers, service personnel, office workers and people from all walks of life. Never was there an altercation.
Several of the bars in this neighborhood featured live stage shows. One was called the Doubleheader and had a female impersonator act that added to the flavor of the scene.
The Embers was just a couple doors from the liquor store on Pine Street, where you needed to have a liquor card to buy booze or give someone going in $5 to buy a bottle of Gilbeys.
There were cocktail lounges too numerous to mention, but one favorite was Stuart Anderson’s T.G.I.F. Club, in the rear of the Embers restaurant on Seventh Avenue, between Union and University streets. In a private room behind smoky glass doors, well drinks were 75 cents but, with inflation, soon became $1.
Stuart’s second restaurant, on Yesler Way, was called the Gold Coast, an upscale steakhouse where waitstaff wore tuxedo-type attire.
Around the corner was one of the best live jazz dance clubs, called the Downbeat, where great musicians did their sets on a revolving bandstand. Dave Lewis, a Garfield High School jazz musician, played a Hammond organ and did numbers from his album “Little Green Things.” It was nearly impossible not to dance to his music with many friendly dance partners.
The night crowd partied on, and suddenly, it was early morning — a good time to visit a live-jazz club just across Elliott Avenue, which served only bloody Marys and screwdrivers.
As the sunlight filtered in through the very small windows, we donned our shades like happy vampires.
The Puget Sound air was quite refreshing, awakening the senses after the many hours of smoke. Time to call it a day — or night.
Heading toward home
Atop Madison Street, more good music could be heard at Birdland. Here, we socialized with Billy Tolls, George Godfrey and Dave Lewis and Quincy Jones. An acquaintance pointed to two cold Olys behind a napkin holder, to which I nodded thanks.
A couple hours later, I put my ‘51 Olds Convertible 98 on auto-pilot and aimed home to Madison Park.
Taverns had their heyday, and now, they all have hard-liquor licenses, and it’s not as affordable as it once was. It’s way more fun to get a $40 bottle of Rombauer and stay at home, watching the world go by and not get stuck in a traffic jam trying to get to a happy hour.
We are happy all hours right here, thank you very much. All that is left of the aforementioned places are memories — but, oh, what memories.
RICHARD CARL LEHMAN is a longtime Madison Park resident. To comment on this column, write to MPTimes@nwlink.com.