Adventures of the Second Lost Expedition, Part VI: Can this really be the end?

April 27, 1984

Adventures of the Second Lost Expedition, Part VI:

Can this really be the end?

CAPTAIN’S LOG, BAR DATE XXII: Never had the prospects for the Second Lost Expedition looked so bleak. Although only half a dozen bars stood between them and their quest to have a drink in every licensed establishment on Oliver Street, the North Tonawanda thoroughfare once enshrined in the Guinness Book of World Records for having the greatest concentration of taverns, there was no guarantee they’d be open.

        Last time out, St. Patrick’s Day, all six were dark by 1:30 a.m. Heaven knew what kind of abbreviated hours they’d keep on Good Friday. So the Captain was determined to assemble the crew early.

        But first, some provisions. Rather than risk the unknown, the trekkers put in at a familiar port, Our Inn, at 601 Oliver, where the party ultimately swelled to 16 while police cruisers paraded prominently outside.

        Between pierogis, chicken wings and fried fish dinners, proprietors Gus and Jo Konfonikos and their daughter, Debbie, advised one and all to give up hope of ever gaining admittance to the Mirror Room, 728 Oliver. Last time, they’d been turned away by three elderly women sitting at a table in the front window.

        “You’ll never get in there,” Jo cautioned. Undaunted, the expeditioners worked out a scheme. The meekest and mildest among them would go first. The rest would follow.

        To everyone’s great surprise, there was no resistance whatsoever to the sudden tripling of the population of the Mirror Room. Eight middle-aged regulars offered suspicious glances and that was it. Bartender Michael Galas proved most obliging, pouring 50-cent drafts of Schmidt’s and Genny. “You from Canada?” he asked.

        The Captain identified himself. Galas smiled and said he also had his own place in North Tonawanda. “Tell everybody,” he remarked, “that Galas’ Café is still alive.”

        Up front, meanwhile, the crew got comfortable. The regulars removed their coats from the pool table – no video games here – and Galas switched on the jukebox, which featured oldies that went back to Al Jolson. “All yours,” he said.

        The Neon Knight admired the well-kept tin ceiling and asked if the neon cove lights worked. They didn’t. Vintage Iroquois Beer keg clocks rotated. An Easter egg tree stood gaily in the front window.

        Mindful of early closings, the Captain urged the crew to the next stops, the Village Inn and the East Avenue Tavern, at 869 and 881 Oliver respectively. The Village Inn was dark. Disappointed, the troupe crossed East Avenue to the other place. It turned out they were expected.

        “Are you on a trek up Oliver Street?” the barmaid inquired.

        “Well, I guess you could say we’re lost,” one expeditioner replied.

        Thus unmasked, the safari settled into drafts of Black Horse Ale, the MTV, the video games and general admiration for the well-preserved Art Deco back bar, along with a small collection of trophies, which included an unlikely one for last place. “I guess you’d call that the Equine Posterior Award,” one crewman quipped.

        The barmaid and bartender were husband and wife, Leonard and Janice Wudyka. Janice reported that the place still did a lively trade with the factory workers from Armstrong Pump and Buffalo Pump, opening at 8 a.m. Evenings, however, could be slow. She was full of other information as well, most importantly about the Village Inn. “That’s been closed,” she said, “for six years.”

        She had the line on Mazurik’s Gratwick Lanes at 1070 Oliver too. Closed early, often by 8 p.m., much too early for the expedition. The travelers rolled past its lifeless windows and proceeded to Joey’s Tavern at 1186 Oliver.

        Unpretentious and benignly neglected, Joey’s featured steel engravings of the presidents along the walls, a tatty shuffleboard bowling machine and the cheapest draft beers the crew had encountered in many a light year – 35 cents for a glass of Genny, Schmidt’s or Stroh’s, three for $1.

        A short stroll took them to Harold’s Club, 1242 Oliver at Ward Road, a commodious place that looked ready to handle a regiment. There were amusements galore – a foosball table in the back room, a pool table in the side room, video games, a bowling machine. The crew scattered to its various passions, giving the nearly empty place the flush of lively patronage. The middle-aged bartender took time out from pouring 50-cent Genny drafts to turn up the jukebox.

        “Is this really it?” the Chief Science Officer asked incredulously.

        The Captain assured him it was. A few steps away was the North Tonawanda city line. Yes, after six outings, the Second Lost Expedition had taken the measure of Oliver Street, or what’s left of it in this post-industrial age: 30 bars, 20-odd pool tables, thousands of sports trophies and hundreds of determined regulars who never saw so many tourists on their home turf at once. Would there be a third foray into the unknown? Pondering this cosmic question, the crew warped into the night, their coordinates set for breakfast.