Originally published in the Enumclaw Courier-Herald, May 15, 2002
According to state law, a tavern is an establishment that sells beer and wine and perhaps a little food. But the cuisine aspect is only a sideline and may consist mostly of junk food.
A few weeks ago, the Rainier Tavern secured a hard liquor license and thereby, at least legally, ceased to be an authentic tavern. In my befuddled mind, that change marks a significant turn in our region’s history.
During the first half of the 20th century—or, depending on your age, far back in ancient, frontier times—there wasn’t a hard liquor club anywhere on the Plateau. Hard booze could only be purchased by the bottle in a state liquor store, unless you knew a friendly bootlegger.
There was considerable discussion, if not flat-out arguments, about legalizing “liquor by the drink.” Relatives on my father’s side were generally opposed to hard stuff and were quite happy with an occasional beer. Kin on my mother’s side were a bit more liberal and, on rare occasions in the late 1940s or early ’50s, drove into Seattle to enjoy one of the few elegant restaurants that were the first in the state to break the whiskey taboo. (Enumclaw’s first cocktail was served in the early- or mid-1950s at Harold McCutchen’s place, most recently known as the Asia Gardens.)
Back then, to the best of my recollection, there were 23 taverns in our general vicinity, between Selleck and Carbonado. In downtown Enumclaw, there were six taverns: The Monte Vista (formerly known as the Cozy Nook), the Ski Inn, The Mint (which was the first tavern I ever went in), White Horse, the Rainier Club, and the Rainier Tavern.
East of town, there was Pete’s Tavern and, to the west, the U and I and the Wishbone. North on 169, we had the Krain Tavern. There were three more beer-mills in Buckley: The Mountaineer, the Loggers’ Inn, and the Sports Bar. There were also the Carbonado Tavern, the Pick and Shovel in Wilkeson, Big Mike’s in Cumberland and, a bit farther up the pike, the Kangley Tavern and the Dirty Shame in Palmer. And let’s not forget the Black Diamond region with the Morganville, Boots’, Andy’s Tavern, and King’s Tavern.
So, what’s my point?
My friends, all of these taverns are gone. (One could hardly call The Mint a tavern; it’s more a restaurant and pizza parlor.) In fact, except for the Bonney Lake Tavern and the Eagle Tavern in Wilkeson, there isn’t a single tavern anywhere on the entire plateau!
Indeed, this is a strange and sorry state of affairs.
For the moment, let’s set aside our legal definitions and concentrate instead on the actual ambiance of such bars. At their inception, they were dark and secluded, rustic, down-home community centers, smelling of smoke, spittoons, and stale beer, that were among the first businesses to open in the isolated, early mining and timber hamlets.
They were decidedly macho places, since males greatly outnumbered women in the area. But even in later years, when ladies ventured into such dives, they remained a small minority. To a large extent, that’s still true today.
Somehow cocktail lounges tend to be upscale and attract a conservative crowd. Not so with taverns. Beginning in colonial days in -the saloons of Williamsburg and Fraunces’ bar in New York, taverns have always been the workingmen’s hotbeds of rebellion. The labor movement was founded the taverns of New York and Chicago. During the ’60s, the anti-war revolt fermented in district taverns across the country. Taverns were fertile ground for the punk and grunge phenomena.
Of course, just because a place gets a liquor license doesn’t mean the physical decor or the people will change. (I’d point out, however, that my old buddy, Art Pohlot, has quit bartending at the Rainier.) Take, for example, the Carbonado Tavern. Though it’s now, technically, a hard booze establishment, it’s still the same old, funky place it always was and the same delightful people hang out there.
And yet, for unknown reasons, I still have this wistful feeling we’ve lost something.
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