"Let's go to the San Francisco Rose. The burgers are great, and they serve something called a Toolbox, which is a super drink."
The year was 1989 or 1990, and Chris and I were out looking for something to eat.
Indeed, the burgers were quite tasty, but I was particularly thrilled to be drinking my first alcoholic beverage in a restaurant. This was a huge deal for me, as I was still a couple of years away from actually being of legal age. It was not so much that I was so interested in drinking, but rather the actual idea that I could drink a beer in public. I guess it may have been a coming of age thing.
Those early days are bit fuzzy. I did return on a few occasions, and somewhat memorably (and just a tad foolishly) I returned there to celebrate my 21st birthday, when I was actually turning of legal age. I remember trying somewhat feebly to explain that that particular evening was actually my 22nd, no, 23rd birthday. Of course the staff knew, and of course, back then it was not that big of a deal to be drinking under age in various establishments.
Once I was 21, though, I made the Rose my local haunt. I was still in college, but I regularly brought more and more school friends by for burgers and beers. We had started driving into Dallas for the odd rock show, which almost always included a stop for dinner before hitting the club. The "We" was usually Bill and I. I had gotten to know Bill during a school trip to Ireland, during which time we developed a taste for a nice whiskey. Once I introduced him to the Toolbox (complete with the story of my first ever trip to the Rose), he also became quite the fan.
The Rose's Toolbox was a mixed drink somewhat on the strong side: equal portions Vodka, Kahlua, Bailey's, and cream. On ice. Refreshing, tasty, and it was pretty much my choice drink at the place.
By the time I graduated from college, Tim had also become a fan of the Rose. The summer of 1992 was all about playing pool at the Royal Rack most afternoons, and otherwise we spent hours and hours sitting on the patio at the Rose, contemplating our futures. The patio was easily one of the best in the city, and Tim and I both agreed that it was time well spent. We could relax and escape the scary thought of actually having to go look for a job and begin our careers.
By the end of that summer, my father finally lost his patience with me and gave me some very strong encouragement to go find a job, and be quick about it.
That actually turned out to be excellent advice, as my consumption of Toolboxes was impressively (and frighteningly) high. It was time to enter the real world.
Tim left town for a few months, but returned within half a year. Suddenly, we were both gainfully (if not embarrassingly...viva the Shack and viva the Hut!) employed, and Tim had an apartment not too far from, where else?
I had continued to be a frequent patron of the Rose during Tim's hiatus, and once he was back in town, we would be there multiple nights throughout the week. Because it was a neighborhood bar, there were a lot of regulars, many of which we got to know. One evening during a college basketball tournament, the place was hopping. One of the games was being shown on one of the television screens, and one guy made a buzzer shot that was so incredible that about half the guests stood up and cheered. The funny thing was, no one was really there to watch the game. It was just one of the moments when everyone glanced at the TV at the exact moment the guy made the shot. Great memory.
Some of the regulars were quite a few years older than we were. At least, that's how it seemed to me at the time. Then again, when you are 20-something, anyone older than you are is simply old. One of them was never short of wisecracks; he was a really funny guy. To get to the bathrooms, you had to sort of go down a dark hallway which was a bit cramped and had a sharp corner. Right at that corner, there used to be a little newspaper dispenser (remember those?) holding the Dallas Observer. During the more quiet afternoons, you almost always heard someone bump into the thing, and it made a very recognizable sound.
"Watch that first step. It's a doozy," the guy would call out. I think I laughed out loud EVERY time he said that. Of course, when it was my turn, despite my best efforts, I invariably bumped into it myself. This wasn't of great surprise, especially after six toolboxes. And for those that have heard me utter a similar statement out and about in Frankfurt or wherever, now you know where I got the line from.
Along with getting to know the other regulars, Tim and I really got to know the staff, and this is probably where my attraction to waitstaff really took off. In fairness, we were just socializing and being friendly. It certainly helped that most of the staff were the same age as we were, but we were (and still are) nice people. I think neither Tim nor myself, however, expected to start dating any them. Although I dated a couple of the girls, Tim actually got himself into a relationship, which continued for quite some time. This created some interesting stories, which I will save for another time. Overall, it was just a wacky time of life.
Meanwhile, I continued to take just about every girl I went out with to the Rose. The patio was just brilliant, and umpteen toolboxes always hit the spot. And yes, for a time, it seemed my love life (as remarkably inactive as it was) revolved around a Rose and a toolbox. Hmmm.
Alas, we reached a point where it was time to find a new watering hole, and about that time I started spending a lot more time at the Dubliner, which became my new local until I moved to Boston.
Upon my return to Dallas after two years, things had changed, probably for the better. Tim had moved to Austin and was happily settled, and I found myself back in a city that I had to get to know again. This meant finding a new local, but those stories from the Monk will be shared at another time.
By chance, I ran into an old friend of mine from church. He had played in a few bands when we were in high school, and had continued his aspirations to perform his music throughout the 90s. He mentioned that he was tending bar at none other than the San Francisco Rose, and I should drop by and see him. (Hey, I drank my first toolbox there!)
I took him up on his offer and went by the Rose for old times' sake. Like many places, they were experimenting with new attractions, and Dave told me that he was going to be playing a few sets of his own material. Always one to support local talent, I made a point of going to the Rose every time he played, bringing along any friends who were up for the outing. Dave was playing at a few other local venues as well, and I made sure to catch any show that I could.
Dave did not work that long at the bar, but for however brief that time was, it was nice to be back in the old Rose.
I did not make it back to the Rose again until around 2008, when I arranged to meet Tim, along with his wife and young son there during a stateside visit. My own young nephew was also in town, along with his folks, and we spent a nice Saturday afternoon catching up and watching the boys play together. The burgers were still great, and I took the opportunity to have another toolbox.
Of course, living in another country limits my visits to a lot of places I like in Dallas, but when I have been back to visit, the Rose hasn't been on the list, mainly since it wasn't ever really the same going there without Tim all those years ago.
So, the last time I did see Tim in Dallas, which was about 3 years ago, we made the decision to head to the Rose. Sadly, with the exception of two people sitting at the bar, obviously friends of the bartender, the place was completely empty. Since it was summer, we sat outside, which was only slightly less dreary than inside. The food was OK, and I did have one last toolbox, and of course, the company was fine. I think I probably realized then that it would be unlikely I would return to the place. The memories I have from there are great, but the place was no longer MY neighborhood bar. At the time, it did not look like it was anyone's neighborhood bar any longer. Despite that, I hoped that the little place would continue, though I had some doubts.
I celebrated the start of 2017 in Dallas; I had spent Christmas there, as I have in recent years. My parents, nephew and I went to brunch at a restaurant right next door to the San Francisco Rose. As we walked outside after eating, I went over and stood outside the patio of my old haunt. I explained to my nephew that I had spent many many wonderful hours hanging out there years before. He listened politely, but I don't think he was particularly enthralled. I couldn't blame him, as the place was almost as empty as it was when I was last there.
Sigh.
This morning, I woke up to find an email from Moe with a link to a brief article from a Dallas neighborhood rag: the San Francisco Rose, after 40 years, will soon be closing.
So, another of my old haunts is shutting down, but that is just how it is. Those times were great, and will always stay with me.
Chris sent me a text early this week, commenting about an enjoyable quiet night he'd had at the Monk. It was another reminder of other good times. I think it is great that I seem to associate periods of my life with the places I frequent. The Deep Ellum days, or the Dubliner times, or the Old Monk era...all of them have tremendous significance for me.
As for the San Francisco Rose years, I will simply smile and say thanks.
see you out there
bryan
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