Arkansas Blog

Oh wow...I bet this joint is a reality TV goldmine in the waiting!

Max, I really think you should go back and film an installment for the Arkansas Video Blog!

Would Mapquest directions be asking too much of you guys?

Oh ... wait. I see there is no sagging allowed. That counts me out. Never mind.

I tend to like a little sag in my women, that way you know you've got the real thing. Know what I mean, Vern?

Back when I had a life I'd get talked into going to 3 places in Fort Baptist I'll never forget. It would always be after 2 am, if you're still out after 2 am you are seriously up to something.

We'd start out at the 808 Club, which happened to be at 808 North 10th street, now a gravel parking lot. It was a black club and the only reason I'm able to type today is that Jesse the owner thought I hung the moon. It wasn't a place white folks dropped in casually. But it was a little dangerous turning down Jesse's kind invitation.

Jesse told me them n words don't drink, they keep the hooch in the truck of their car and go out and get a nip when needed. So he charge them 1 dollar to walk in the door. The juke box played the nastiest songs I've ever heard in my life. I have no idea where he got them.

He also sold some kind of oriental drink he called The Vitamin for 2 dollars a bottle and it appeared to be the choice of many.

He claimed it had the powers of Viagra way before Viagra was invented.....or I needed it. I whooped a bottle on wifey and me one night....and failed to see much difference...you listenen, Vern?

If we felt frisky we'd go down the street to the Mi Wuk Club. It had the longest nap shag carpet I ever saw and I never saw shag carpet in a bar before or since. I suspect that shag carpet harbored many little tiny crabs....cause I was being good and I got nothing else to blame it on.

The Mi Wuk was the only place I ever saw with a house band where a running chainsaw was treated as a musical instrument. It was a place you never looked anyone directly in the eye. I was afeared every time I was in the joint. I think the place lives on, but the owner doesn't so hard times have set in.

On a really frisky night we'd all pile into cars and head across town to Club Foquettes. I assume you can figure out the local pronunciation of the name. The place was always jumpin with people none of us had ever seen before. It's still a mystery where they came from....it always looked like a fake party being thrown by bounty hunters and bail bondsmen.

The amazing thing was if you rounded up all of them in there you'd still not have a complete set of teeth. Pretty women...well...pretty for 4 am would be a dancing up a storm and when they'd walk by.....2 teeth or no teeth. Was it meth? I'll never understand it....but even drunk it was scary enough to sober you up some.

While on the subject...I have had the honor of being in 2 John Wayne-Lee Marvin type full bar fights in my life. I mean everyone in the joint, men and women just punching anyone standing and having a wonderful time.

Once was at Norma Jean's in Fayetteville....I was a little tanked myself and it took me a full minute to understand why people were falling down like a giant wave in Razorback Don Reynolds Statium....I can still see it in my mind...by the end there were probably 200 people rolling around on the dance floor gettin after it.

The last one was at the old Elephant Run at the Tradewinds Inn, now a Howard Johnson. The strippers from the Oklahoma ballet used to drop by after quitting time. I would have hit the big time if they all hadn't been extreemly bi-sexual, heavily leaning towards the girl-girl side. But it was still fun to watch em. That girl-girl stuff won't ever go out of style.

One night, a stripper that had been fired the week before came in with her entourage and got lippy with the Cheyenne girls and in no time chairs and tables were flying. Someone hit me while I was taken it all in and down I went.

While I was down there on the floor I saw Johnny, the big Mafia looking dude that ran the Cheyenne Club. He had one of my buddies by the neck, probably the most non-violent guy in the world, and Johnny was just beating the hell out of my friend.

I asked him 2 or 3 times to stop and let my friend go and he just kept punching him right in the mouth. Keep in mind all this is happening sideways because we're laying on the floor and can't get up for all the people and the chair and tables flying.

I couldn't let Johnny kill my friend so I took a deep breath and hit him in the side of the head with all my might. Nothing happened, he didn't stop. So I hit him again extra hard...hurt my hand and nothing happened.

I spent the rest of the time down there on the floor praying for the immortal soul of my little buddy cause there wasn't nothing else to do.

In the end, no one got hurt real bad...a flat miracle! We all got up and put the chairs and tables back and some helped sweep up all the glass and we went back to drinking and having a good time. I knew I had lived thru something special and vowed to mend my ways before my luck changed.

So long late night dives.....thanks for the rest home memories!

Good tale DBI. I recall my high school tirp to UA, and the Rockwood Club...only brawl I was ever involved in. Well, there was one once in Arkadelphia, over a damn race horse named Smokey.

Ahhhhhh....the smell of mace, cigarette smoke and hairspray at the Checkmate club, early 70's....

...the polyester disco shirt with a seed burn on the chest.

memories..

I think that photo was taken by Rachel Miller.