Adventures of the Third Lost Expedition, Part V: Winter wonderland.

The Sawyer Creek Hotel 

Dec. 14, 1984

Adventures of the Third Lost Expedition, Part V: 

Winter wonderland.

CAPTAIN’S LOG, BAR DATE XXVII: A festival of snow squalls buffeted the shuttlecraft as the first segment of the Third Lost Expedition returned for the last time to Niagara Falls. Well into their mission to lift a libation in every licensed establishment on federal Route 62 from here to El Paso, Texas, or as close to El Paso as they could get, they were ready to pass their first milestone – the Niagara Falls city line.

        The coordinates were set for two places that had closed by the time the party reached them on the last outing: The Castle Court Restaurant at 9802 Niagara Falls Blvd. and Goose’s Roost at 10158 Falls Blvd. The Castle Court was strung with Christmas lights. Even the statue of the horse out front was decked. But that was all for the motel. The attached restaurant was pitch black. Closed since Labor Day, the desk clerk declared.

        So they steered instead to Goose’s Roost, a big, L-shaped, family-style restaurant with a take-out deli attached and a discount liquor store next door, which stands at the very threshold of the city at the fork of Niagara Falls Boulevard and Porter Road. Owned by the Antonacci family of Como Restaurant fame, it was liberally festooned with tinsel and other garlands. Styrofoam snowflakes and ornamental balls hung from the chandeliers.

        Since there was no bar, the preliminary party staked a claim in a rear corner. Next came the drinks – draft Michelob or Molson’s at 85 cents a glass, cocktails from $1.75 to $2.25. No one quite dared to go for the Special Goose Cocktail, a concoction of gin, banana liqueur, orange juice and lemon juice.

        As $3.25 orders of deceptively mild-looking chicken wings arrived, so did the other expeditioners – the Intergalactic Historian and the Neon Knight and their respective mates, along with the Cosmic Chaplain, out for his first adventure. Given the atmospheric conditions, the Captain found it reassuring to have him aboard.

        Having visited the next spot, a country-rock saloon called Yesterdays, the last time out, the safari threaded farther into the vast expanses of the Town of Wheatfield, beyond the Niagara Falls Airport and the Bell Aerosystems plant to Perna’s White House, 2319 Falls Blvd.

        Inside the side entrance, they discovered a bevy of waitresses clustered at the bar in Santa Claus hats. Paper holiday bells hung from the ceiling of the barroom and the now-empty dining room up front. Pewter plates depicting the presidents adorned the walls.

        Sitting at a Hammond organ just inside the door, with his name spelled out on the front of it, was Carm Perna, a Falls insurance man whose son, Pete, just reopened the place six weeks ago. It had been dark three years following the death of the old owner, Pete reported.

        The senior Perna struck up oldies like “Sentimental Journey” as the crew examined the Pac-Man machine in the corner and perused the list of $1.25 holiday specials – Carlsburg Beer, Sun Country Wine Coolers, Canadian Hunter sipping whiskey. A glance at the menu suggested dinner might have been better here. It listed 30 entrees, only four over $10.

        At 10 o’clock, the junior Perna took over the musical chores, slipping behind a synthesizer to run through “You Are the Sunshine of My Life,” then summoning up a trio called Chezere for an Elvis medley, which set the trekkers jitterbugging out into the parking lot.

        A big wind propelled them into the Pink Panther at 2540 Falls Blvd., where a roadside sign promised: “Best Fish Fry in Town. Dinners From $3.95. Free Relish Tray.” At this hour, however, only a couple hardy souls held out at the bar. An ample and obliging barmaid served up $1.10 Budweisers and $1.50 mixed drinks as the jukebox played “Jingle Bell Rock.”

        In keeping with its unadorned, ‘60s suburban lounge ambiance, the Pink Panther was lean on decorations. The tropical plants were strung with lights. A small tree stood atop a piano. Sufficient nonetheless for the festivities promised at next Tuesday’s Christmas party and free buffet.

        Lights were out at the next station, a tiny shack of a place called the Creekside, sandwiched between Falls Boulevard and Sawyer Creek, which parallels the north shoulder all the way to North Tonawanda. And there was no stopping at that brightly-lit, jam-packed country-western haven, Loe Schel’s (formerly Janik’s), since it was on the far side of Sawyer Creek with a Ward Road address.

        So the party pressed onward to the Misty Nite Inn at 3134 Falls Blvd., a hard-rock café if there ever was one. The sound system was deafening. The air hung heavy with cigarette smoke. A harried barmaid served a crowd that was almost exclusively male and leather-jacketed.

        “This is the busiest this place has been in seven years,” one fellow at the glass-bricked bar remarked as the safari filed in.

        “Seven years and four months,” his neighbor corrected him.

        Holiday symbols were limited to a Season’s Greetings sign over the bar and a couple skimpy strings of lights. The expeditioners clustered around the pinball machine and reprogrammed the jukebox.

        One drink and they rocketed on to Taggart’s Tavern, 3168 Falls Blvd., where the sweet smell of the wood stove greeted them as they disembarked. A notice at the door warned: “21 Or Begone.” Though a sign out front promised live entertainment, all that was playing was the jukebox, which was crammed with country hits and old Glenn Miller and Frank Sinatra favorites.

        It was almost bare of Christmas decorations, but Taggart’s proved to be as hospitable and charming a place as the safari had seen. Antique farm and home implements adorned the walls. In the dining room, a decorative bottle collection was displayed. A saddle sat on a rail beside the bandstand. The restrooms were designated “Pointers” and “Setters.”

        Behind the bar was an old-fashioned circular Bevador cooler and old-fashioned prices to match. The Neon Knight laid out a $20 bill to cover the assemblage and got more than $10 back. A table of cheese and crackers was set out as well.

        A few moments later, they were back on that highway, making a final stop at a place which completely embodied the seasonal rebirth of spirit. It was the freshly refurbished 19th century Sawyer Creek Hotel at Falls Boulevard and Nash Road, which had just opened for business the previous Tuesday. Every staffer seemed happy that it was up and running. The owner, Rick Cassata, a former Canadian Football League quarterback, stood jovially at the corner of the bar in a yellow sweater emblazoned with “Rico’s Sawyer Creek Hotel.”

        Wallpapered and curtained, decorated with ancient artifacts, it still smelled of paint and varnish. The source of that fresh finish was found in a rear room, soon to be the television room, where at 1:30 a.m. a youthful, self-proclaimed retiree named Jimbo was cheerfully applying polyurethane varnish to the woodwork. In less than a week, he grinned, they’d be opening up the kitchen.