Yesterday, I stepped into the past. It’s not the past that I remember, but a different version of it that is the present. Still, it was pretty cool to do that.
The visit to the past began at what used to be the TNT Tavern. It’s no longer there on Admiral Way. Some time ago, after I left the Emerald City, it closed. My friend Dee who bartended there for a long time had died and I don’t know whatever happened to Cathy, who owned the bar after her husband Tom had passed away.
The TNT was my home away from home for many a year, almost 20 to be exact. It really was a place where everybody knew your name. I had learned about a year ago that it had reopened under the name Shipwreck Tavern. Of course, I had to stop by.
The place really hasn’t changed that much. The decor is refreshed and rather than being a hodge podge of beer signs and sports calendars, it has a nice nautical feel. The place where we used to play now has a stage. Man, where was that back in the day?
Little else had really changed. Outside of a thorough cleaning and some paint and new furniture, it was still my old hangout. I could virtually live there once again.
I spoke to Chris, the owner. A real nice guy. I told him that I did miss the dingy carpet that at times got so beer soaked we’d play slip and slide on it. And the chandelier was far more ornamental than the old one, which Dee used to swing from off the pool table now and again.
I also met Jessup, who is in the process of opening up a small kitchen on the mezzanine of the place. He plans to serve Cajun food. Now there’s a marriage made in heaven. My favorite bar and favorite food, together in a single place. I told you I would never leave.
Our band played there regularly over the years. They didn’t have regular bands like they do now. It was just us and a few others who would play there. It was always a blast. I don’t think you can argue with having a rabid set of fans, all the free beer you can drink and a tip jar. Well, actually, it was an empty beer pitcher that Cathy or Dee would pass around.
I was so glad to see it open again and that someone who loved it as much as I did was running it. I hope Chris is there for a long time. He has kept my past alive.
Not to be outdone, I couldn’t resist but go next door to the old Benbow. The actual Benbow is gone now, but the Heartland Cafe has opened in its place. The old Hispaniola bar in the back was open, renamed the Benbow Room instead.
It hadn’t changed much either. There were a few new doors that opened into the one time meeting room in the back that was rarely used except to house Seafair Pirate meetings. The beauty of the bar is the decor. It looks like you’re in an old ship. There are grids above you, like cargo hatches. In the corner is a painting of Admiral Benbow himself. And at the far end, the star attraction, the huge stain glass windows that resemble the back of the captain’s quarters. It even has lights that cause a ripple effect, as if it is sitting in the water. All that is missing are the sound effects of seagulls and the ringing of the ship’s bell on the hour.
Instead, there’s hard rock playing. That’s OK, times change. I get that. The first time I set eyes on the bar was back in 1982 when I joined the Seafair Pirates. I was just 24. It was such a heady experience back then to go into a bar like this. We were the rock stars and the free drinks always poured freely.
I had to buy my beer on this day, but I can handle that. If I had been in my pirate gear with guitar in hand things might have been different. It didn’t matter. The familiarity was intoxicating. A part of my past, at one time locked up securely and thought lost forever, was waiting for me again.
That’s happened a lot this trip. Old friends, old places, some I thought long gone, only to find that they are still here, helping me remember that I never really didn’t like living here. I only didn’t like my situation at the time. I ran to Florida not because Seattle didn’t work for me, but because my life wasn’t working for me.
I have seen my homeland through a fresh set of eyes. I had forgotten how unique Seattle is. It has a vibe to it that still runs deep in my veins. I am proud to say that I am from Seattle and I always will be.
I won’t be as much of a stranger either. There is so much more that I need to do. I need to spend a long day in Fremont, just because. I don’t think there’s another Fremont on this planet. I need to head back out to Fall City and visit some of my favorite haunts in that whacky little rural town. And, of course, I really need to visit some more wineries.
There is perhaps a dozen wineries in all of Florida. Here you can find that many on a single street in Woodinville. What a marvelous place this is and I am lucky to have been born here.
To all those in Seattle who long to live in the sunshine year round, it’s OK. I can’t complain. But there’s an awful lot to be said for the gray days and endless mist. It allows us to develop a great resiliency, one that allows us to endure nearly anything. And that is a rarity in our land. I haven’t come across a spirit like that in the Northwest in any of my travels, in this country or any other. Be proud of it and celebrate this beautiful land we were given.
Out on the Emerald Coast, soaking up the liquid sunshine today,
– Robb