Adventures of the Third Lost Expedition, Part XIV: Abject satiation

Oct. 25, 1985

Adventures of the Third Lost Expedition, Part XIV:

Abject satiation.

CAPTAIN’S LOG, BAR DATE XXXVI: There’s an old saying about how when things are going great, that’s the time that you’ve really got to watch out. The Captain had just been reminded of this adage the hard way. It happened right after the Third Lost Expedition’s last excursion into the bars of Bailey Avenue in the quest to quaff a drink in every licensed establishment on fabled federal Route 62 from Niagara Falls to El Paso, Texas. Or as close to El Paso as the Expedition can get.

        It all began with the report back to mission control, which failed to make mention that the Werzburger-Hof, 3250 Bailey Ave., is a 50-50 partnership. Though we only encountered Greg Klaffka, his co-equal, Rick Shaw, was represented on the souvenir key ring. That should have been clue enough. Then, to compound matters, Shaw was not visible in the accompanying Gusto photo. Soon his friends were phoning him, asking if he’d dropped out of the business.

        With this fiasco freshly in mind, the Captain vowed to set off smoothly this time. To make sure, he wired ahead to the designated staging area, the Midway Grill and Restaurant, 3076 Bailey, to request enough Friday fish fry to handle a party of at least 12.

        When he reached the Midway Grill, the Captain was delighted to discover that he’d guesstimated the size of the safari correctly, but was alarmed to learn that his Chief Science Officer – the one person who’d been beside him in every bar they’d beamed into so far – had been called back to his home planet due to a death in his family.

        Whatever apprehension this development generated soon was relieved by the pleasures of the Midway and the hospitality of owner Bob Perlstein, his towering barman Paul Schneider (who wore a green jacket emblazoned: “Kensington-Bailey Derelict Society”) and his crew of waitresses. “I found the coleslaw I hid for you,” one of them informed the party as it took a table in the rearmost of the two dining rooms.

        Waiting for the $3.25 fish fry to materialize – it came in two styles, regular and English – the trekkers set their sights on a huge mural behind them. A colorful impression of a circus midway complete with funhouse, roller coaster, Ferris wheel and pagodas. It was signed “Tasha and Spunk, 1978.” Subsequently, it was noted that the Midway just turned 50 years old. “So did I,” the Chief Billiards Technician chimed in. “Back on the first.”

        Pitchers of Genesee Cream Ale, also $3.25, contributed to the rising conviviality. Similar bargains prevailed on the menu, a classic compilation of all-American bar offerings from the pre-chicken wing era. Nary a nacho, potato skin or pizza finger intruded. The arrival of the bill brought back another great, old-fashioned feeling. A dozen fish plus several pitchers of beer came to around $5 apiece.

        Rather than wear out the video games or watch the Sabres at the Midway, the trekkers transported to the area between Kensington Avenue and the Kensington Expressway. At one time this was a lively stretch, what with the presences of a rock ‘n’ roll party bar called McGillicuty’s, a licensed Chinese restaurant and the grandiose Jerry Butler’s Big Play. But this year has seen these places go dark. About all that’s left is a modest two-room bar and restaurant called Feathers, at 2960 Bailey.

        The kitchen had just closed, but Feathers had just the right post-dinner recreational facilities. Video games and a bowling machine beckoned in the barroom up front. The big attraction, however, was the back room, which had been cleared of tables in order to accommodate a pool table and an indoor horseshoe court with rubber horseshoes. A blonde named Nancy came back from the bar to challenge our champions.

        Ultimately the party drifted back to the front to check out the Sabres, the beer (five drafts, including Old Milwaukee at 40 cents a glass) and a jukebox, which ran the gamut from the Ink Spots to Wham. The bar itself was hung with rows of orange plastic mugs for Feathers’ mug club, which entitles members to drink specials. On one wall hung a poster for an election of officers for the Police Benevolent Association. The Kensington station is just a couple doors away.

        From Feathers, the Expedition beamed to the south side of the expressway overpass to Vallone’s at 2828 Bailey, which runs a take-out sub and snack shop as an adjunct to its tavern operation.

        Pinlights glowed around the bar. Securing a couple rounds of three Old Vienna splits for $1, the crew, now down to five, explored the bowling machine and the jukebox, which was playing an Elvis Presley tune to accompany the images on the big-screen cable TV.

        Next the party decided to double back north of the expressway to peek into a place they’d overshot on their way to Vallone’s – Odie’s Jubilation at 2897 Bailey. Odie’s, it turned out, was a black disco, where rap records boomed and chattered continuously for dancing in the room upstairs in the rear. It was the first time any of the trekkers had seen people slow-dancing to rap music.

        But the expeditioners weren’t the only people of the Caucasian persuasion in the bar. A rather distinguished-looking grey-haired chap sat near where they stood, sipping a cocktail. Huge inflated bottles of Champale hung over the bar. Professionally illustrated signs proclaimed drink specials, the 4 to 8 p.m. happy hour and the Thursday ladies’ night.

        Final destination was the Club KC at 2748 Bailey, where a lighted portable sign out front announced a move soon to 2072 Kensington Ave. near Harlem Road. The safari, now down to three, arrived too late for the 10-cent chicken wing special, which ended at 1 a.m., so contented themselves with the discovery of German-made Spaten on tap for $1 a glass, once they figured out which of the many people behind the bar actually were tending it.

        A female deejay in the sound booth in the back room played Prince tunes and ‘60s soul hits for a youthful crowd which included a sizeable number of young women. Some of them danced on the empty floor in front of the booth.

        Dominating the space between the low wall enclosing the bar area was a big projection TV set playing ESPN wrestling and demolition derbies. When the bowling machine lost its allure, this is where the surviving trio of trekkers plotzed in abject satiation. Even the arrival of a couple blondes from Vallone’s failed to move them