Blast from the Past

I think the only time, before yesterday, that I had ever set foot inside the 219 Bar on First Avenue in Sandpoint, between the old Pastime and Benoits Bootery) was when the Middle Earth Tavern was operating on the same block, across the street.

Our group walked across the street to the 219 on a Thursday night---same night I first ever focused on John Denver's "Rocky Mountain High, which was playing on the jukebox at the Middle Earth. 

The "group" consisted of Cliff Irish, Jim Jasman, Terri Lauderbach and me.  Cliff and Jim, lifelong friends from the Dufort-Jewel Lake area, were sophomores when I was a senior at Sandpoint High School.  

That particular night, Terri and I were newbies on the teaching staff at Sandpoint High School, both English teachers. I've often wondered what ever happened to her.

The Middle Earth was where most of the town young'uns hung out.  It's very possible we were feeling the stress of being first-year teachers and needed a night out to compare our common concerns. 

Before going any further with this story, I must clearly state that my "hanging out" in bars has always been pretty minimal---very minimal, in fact. 

My visits to the downtown watering holes happened on rare occasions back in those days, so rare that I can remember the details of this particular night. 

Cliff and Jim were probably already at the Middle Earth when Terri and I walked in, and I'm sure Cliff entertained us for at least a couple of hours with his hilarious stories before we walked across the street to the 219.  

I think we didn't even sit down for a drink.  I do remember the place as dark and dingy and probably not a venue where I'd hang out ever again. 

Visits to Sandpoint watering holes have changed over the years because many have become restaurants, much like the Middle Earth, where the Pucci's served the best hot sandwiches in town.  

Nowadays, we tend to get watered along with our meals.

Anyway, yesterday I went to The Readery (old Pastime very tastefully redone) with Debbie for a cup of coffee and an afternoon sweet treat. 

When we were about to leave, something provoked me to mention the 219 and how I'd only been in there once in my life.

So, as we walked out of The Readery, I said, "Let's just go peek inside and see what it looks like."  

We opened the door, all heads turned, several faces lit up with enthusiastic recognition, and I immediately felt like I'd arrived in Heaven.

Half the clientele had sat in my English classes or, in one case, had marched down the streets of Sandpoint as Ponderettes with Miss Brown aka Mrs. Love yelling "Smile" to them.  

Old home week at the 219 turned out to extend for several minutes beyond that planned brief peek. 

 Heck, I even met Jimmy Gunter---son of Cletus---for the first time.  I'd heard of Jimmy for years, how he'd been student body president at Clark Fork High School back in the 1980s.

I couldn't resist telling Jimmy how we three Brown kids used to live in fear of the Gunters, who lived closer to the airport than we did,  knowing full well they were always lurking in the ditches down there by Racicots ready to pounce on us and beat us up.

Never mind that such a scenario never happened, but the mere thought of it gave us a healthy respect for keeping an eye out whenever we walked down the road toward town.

As the years passed, we found out the Gunters weren't nearly as mean as our childhood imaginations made them out to be. 

For several years, Jimmy's Uncle Albert worked for my dad in the hay field.  Great worker too! Nowadays, I enjoy short visits with Albert, who often hangs out at the Schweitzer Conoco. 

Besides meeting and enjoying a great visit with Jimmy, I exchanged several hugs with Bernie and Corinne Beyer and tried---in between all the banter---to find out what Chris Thurlow was up to these days.

Another lady came from somewhere in the bar and sat down next to Jimmy.  She looked familiar.

"I was a sophomore in high school, and I sat in the back of your English class," she told me. "I wasn't doing so well, so you moved me to the front of the class.  I got A's from then on."  Angel seemed appreciative of that classroom move, which made me feel pretty good.

While we were visiting, Corinne, who used to run the Pend Oreille cheese factory, directed me to a painting near the door.  A light was shining to illuminate its details in the dark environment. 

She explained that while the place was being renovated, the workers had "unearthed" so to speak, the mural by Gene Hayes, a prolific local artist and sign painter, who has since moved back to his home ground in Northeastern Oregon.  

Corinne told me that the painting, which is vintage Gene Hayes,  with the woods and wildlife theme,  was in pretty sad shape, but the 219 staff hired an expert to clean it up and get it to looking good as new.

The artist had finished the job and had just walked out with her check before we stopped for our peek inside the bar.   

So, yes, I loved the ten-minute blast from the past with the 219  clientele and the Gene Hayes painting, and a memorable one at that.

The affable group wanted us to sit down and have a drink with them, but I simply announced that maybe I'd stop by 20-40 years from now, and then we might just do that. 

Debbie and I headed on our way, and I must say that I felt like a million dollars after that very pleasant encounter. 

Now, I'll have to go visit the Tervan cuz right now, the 219 leads my good ol' Sandpoint bar encounters 2-1!  Wonder how many former students I'll find in there. 

Happy Thursday.