Adventures of the Lost Expedition, Part XIV: At warp speed, toward a Labor Day landing.

July 15, 1983

Adventures of the Lost Expedition, Part XIV: At warp speed, toward a Labor Day landing.

CAPTAIN’S LOG, BAR DATE XIV: As they ventured deeper into the nebulae of suburban Clarence, the Lost Expedition was increasingly invigorated by the realization that it had completed roughly 80 percent of its gargantuan quest. Could it all be wrapped up by Labor Day? The Captain was uncertain as he rolled up to the first of this evening’s stops, a pizza and sub shop called Outlaws at Main Street and Sheridan Drive.

          There remained a formidable number of elbows to be bent before this sipping safari raised a drink in every licensed establishment on Main Street from the heart of downtown Buffalo to the Genesee County line. According to no less a denizen of the taverns on the Clarence Strip than Denny Ryan of Kick’s Place at 9000 Main, there were still 17 to go.

          Had it not been for Ryan’s tabulations, the expedition might not have stopped at Outlaws at all. From the outside, it looked like any other family-run fast food outlet – mom in the kitchen, a counter for take-out, a handful of booths inside and picnic tables outside, a couple video games. Except for a single line on the menu sign, one might reasonably assume that the offerings were totally non-alcoholic.

          Nevertheless, there it was. Old Vienna, draft only, 85 cents in a frosted mug, just right after a long, hot transport out of the city. Once served, the First Mate set about establishing a new high score on the Pac Man machine while the Captain and the Chief Science Officer explored the tacos. Hot, of course, they were enlivened by a sauce based on chili rather than the usual Tabasco. Other cheap delights included pizza at $2.80 and $3.80 and chicken wings at $2.60 and $3.85.

One down, 16 to go. With this small tactical patrol of three, picking up and moving to the next set of coordinates was a snap. It made for an unobtrusive entrance as well. No heads turned as the tiny party ventured into the Eastern Pearl Restaurant, 9415 Main. This could have been another troupe of Chinese cuisine fans for the dining room. Or a fresh set of reinforcements for the big bar and cocktail lounge, populated with softball players and other friends of the bartender.

Across the bar’s back shelf was a line of decorative mugs, reserved for sippers of the $2-plus Polynesian drink specials. The Captain, seized by a tropical affection for a tumbler bearing a face with a Fu Manchu mustache, decided to order whatever drink came in it. The potion in question was called a Dr. Wang. It consisted of fruit juices and bourbon. Quite a bit of bourbon, the Captain reflected woozily when he got to the bottom.

To eat or not to eat, that was the question that haunted the safari at its next stop, the family-run Biagio’s Italian Kitchen at 9780 Main. The troupe took seats at the small bar that had been walled off from the dining room, sampled the scent of Mr. Biagio’s cuisine emanating from the kitchen and buried their noses in the menu, which, like the décor, promised a quietly classy and well-put-together interlude.

But would pasta be the fuel that would get the expeditioners up to warp speed with the most dispatch? The Captain and the Chief Science Officer had their doubts. So did the newly-arrived Billiards Technician and his first mate. With great reluctance, it was decided not to decide, pending a peek into the place next door – a Clarence Strip hometown hangout called Kennedy’s Cove at 9800 Main, which has something of a reputation as a steakhouse.

Menus once again were procured, but soon the party was distracted by the games near the door to the bar. While the First Mate was confounded by the disappearing aisles on the Pac Man machine, the Billiards Technician displayed his mastery of the bumper pool table, introducing the fine points of the game to the other expeditioners, then trouncing them soundly. Another favorite was the jukebox, which offered a broad array of rock and country hits.

The specialties of the bar, meanwhile, included $1 bottles of Genesee 12-Horse Ale, which the barmaid said the brewery was touting as the successor to its Cream Ale. “It’s not as sweet,” she added. Right she was. The expedition set about diminishing her supply of it.

At length, the urge for going struck again, leading the safari to another stalwart Clarence Strip hangout. The Clarence Haus at 10005 Main, having followed the crew’s previous meanderings down the street, was ready for a visit. A T-shirt hung behind the bar proclaiming: “Welcome, Lost Expedition.”

The Science Officer, in his delicate fashion, asked the barman what this T-shirt was all about. “It’s this bunch of critics in the newspaper,” he replied. “They come in and drink in your bar and they review it.”

“When are they coming?” the Science Officer inquired ingenuously.

“I don’t know” the barman answered. “They should’ve been here a couple weeks ago, but they haven’t showed up.”

With that, the troupe transported to a classic cocktail lounge scene. Saturday Night Life couldn’t have done it better. The Pillor and Post at 10205 Main had it all, from the lush-life décor to the white-belt-and-shoes couples. Topping it off were the organ stylings of Emmett Nolan, best remembered as the prime mover of the dreamy Three Suns, who scored a series of hits in the late ‘40s and early ‘50s.

Nolan, doing what he calls Yesteryears, backs singer Eddie Boudreau, whose showbiz chutzpah is exceeded only by comedian Bill Murray. Except Boudreau isn’t kidding.

“You have to be drunk to properly appreciate this,” observed the Chief Science Officer’s First Mate. As a result, the crew appreciated it roundly, except for the Science Officer himself, who hovered over Boudreau with the suggestion that he sing “Buffalo, New York,” instead of “New York, New York.”

In time, Boudreau was supplanted by a woman from the audience named Marion, who apparently has been singing even longer than Nolan has been playing the keyboards. She did old songs like “It’s Only Make Believe” in a style straight out of the Golden Age of the Movie Musical. Equally full of old-fashioned goodness was the waitress, Lee Jones, who said she’d cook the orders for chicken wings herself. Like Lee, they were terrific.

Did the expedition dare plunge on to a seventh stop? The answer was unanimously affirmative, although in retrospect, few in the party remember much about Finnlock’s Café at 10250 Main. One thing clear, however, was that in the realm of suburban lounges, Finnlock’s was the obverse of the Pillor and Post. In other words, all restraint.

Unfortunately, the crew arrived too late to catch more than the finale of singer and guitarist Dennis D’Asaro’s set, though that sampling was delightful. The Captain’s memory, meanwhile, was dispatched by a specialty of the house called a Creamy Plum, a purple concoction which included fresh plums and plum liqueur. Full of accomplishment, the expedition stumbled into the starry night. Yes, the Captain reflected, we’ve done it. The quest will be ours by Labor Day.