Adventures of the Lost Expedition: Epilogue

Sept. 2, 1983

Adventures of the Lost Expedition: Epilogue

NOTES ON AN EPIC PUB CRAWL: Little did the Lost Expedition realize when this mission began April 16, 1982, how much Buffalo tradition stood behind what the party crowd commonly calls bar-hopping. After a couple episodes, tales surfaced telling of all kinds of sequential drinking endeavors. The most heroic involved tippling along South Park Avenue from downtown Buffalo to the city line, a total of 42 taverns once upon a time, in a single day. That day would start, of course, when the taps opened at 8 a.m.

Our intentions were much less strenuous, given the capacities of the crew. This was not a night out with the boys, but rather a couples affair. We soon found that the most we could reasonably expect to explore in one evening was half a dozen bars. One night we ventured to a seventh. The next day nobody could remember the place.

Inebriation was a hazard. Despite its noble intentions, this was still a TGIF. Myself, as captain, and co-conspirator Bob Riley, the chief science officer, often had the will to go all night long, while our respective mates – Monica Neuwirt and Pat Riley – usually had the sense to know when to quit. Not Riley and me, however. On more than one occasion, the two of us carried on right up to closing time.

Incredibly, none of the crew got sick, passed out or got arrested. Extra caution prevailed, however, once the trek reached the outer suburbs. Faced with a half-hour drive back to the city, we developed an informal car pool, with the least loaded taking the wheel. To ease the impact of the mornings after, we added a post-expedition breakfast at an all-night restaurant.

As the safari rolled up Main Street, it grew. From the timid threesome that tested the most treacherous stretch, the crime-ridden corner of Virginia Street, it expanded to eight and more once it reached more benign neighborhoods. Though there was safety in numbers, there also was inertia. The bigger the group, the harder it was to move it.

What’s more, the nature of the trek changed as it progressed. At first, there was much wide-eyed observation, sociological note-taking and the sort of good behavior that goes along with being strangers in a strange land. Ultimately, the expedition became a phenomenon in its own right. By the time it reached the Clarence Strip, the tavern keepers were hip to this also. They made up welcoming signs and stood ready for a Friday visitation. Due to the expedition’s erratic schedule, however, they never knew exactly which Friday it would be.

In the meantime, the crew established certain preferences. Formality came to be looked upon as an inconvenience, especially since the finery required at the fancy places meant being ridiculously overdressed at the funky joints. The favorite places turned out to be those with modest prices and a couple video games, or better yet, a pool table. Beer by the pitcher, exotic mixed drinks, a personable bartender and a good snack menu were also plusses.

Though we were acquainted with maybe a third of these establishments before we started, there were some unexpected and outstandingly pleasant hangouts. Here are half a dozen:

– Fields’ Pub in the Ellicott Square for happy hour hors d’oeuvres, splits of Rolling Rock beer and the wisdom of W. C. Fields himself on the walls.

          – Ray Flynn’s Golden Dollar next to the old Courier-Express building for stocking those old Buffalo brands, Iroquois and Simon Pure, along with its behind-the-bar snacks, its geniality and its perfect preservation of a ‘40s atmosphere.

          – The Steer at 3151 Main for its cozy, club-like setting and its fine kitchen, which stays open till 2 a.m.

          – Kane’s Red Carpet at 5507 Main for its chicken wings, its mature singles scene and the amazing waitressing of Annie Ettepio.

– Placey’s at 5953 Main for its unpretentiousness, its cheapness and what some claim is the best shuffleboard in the area.

– Kick’s Place at 9000 Main for the astute irreverence of proprietor Denny Ryan, its good-time crowd and its wealth of diversions.

Also high in our affections were Sebastian’s, the Central Park Grill, the Stuffed Mushroom, Bagatelle, P. J. Bottoms, the Deli Place, Adam’s Rib, the Eagle House, the Williamsville Inn, the Hackney House, Brennan’s Bowery Bar, Syracuse’s Pizza Plant, the Gravevine, the Meeting House, the Asa Ransom House and the Clarence Bowling Academy.

Apologies are due to Quinton’s Court, just past Main and Transit, which we mistakenly thought was attached to a motel. It isn’t.

Did we hit them all? According to Chief Science Officer Riley, who computed the statistics, the Lost Expedition touched down at 86 drinking places and consumed an average of 10 to 15 rounds per night. However, we didn’t imbibe at several places that weren’t open when we passed – the Aud Club at Memorial Auditorium, the restaurant atop the Marine Midland Center, the Studio Arena Theater and the Theater Lounge (now Maxwell’s) at 611 Main.

We’ve seen a few changes too. Jingles has become Thumper’s. T’s Tavern has become Poor Cutts. The Checkboard has moved. The Plaza Suite at One M&T Plaza has closed. So have Shane’s, the Copper Kettle, Truffles and the infamous Richie’s at Main and Virginia, although the equally infamous Clancy’s still thrives next door.

At this point, the expeditioners plan to take some well-earned rest and relaxation. When they recover, a new challenge beckons, straight out of the Guinness Book of World Records.

It seems that the street containing the most bars per mile is right next door in North Tonawanda. Oliver Street. Back when draft beers were a dime, there was a grand total of 47. Brazen locals would start out with a $5 bill, intent on having a glass of brew in each place, finishing with a 30-cent shot of whiskey. From what we’re told, nobody ever made it.