Bar Light, Bar Bright, First Bar That I See Tonight

This column originally appeared on Sunday, Nov. 11, 2007


We gathered together Friday evening, a lively group of friends and me, in a beautiful, historic home on the west side of High Street in West Chester, for a flavorful meal of spicy soup, crisp salad, leg of lamb and lightly fluffed potatoes.

Naturally the talk turned to old bars. Old West Chester bars to be exact.

I will state for the record here and now that it was not my decision to bring up the subject. I understand I have a reputation for enjoying a memory or two about saloons I have inhabited in the past. I am well aware that I have, on occasion, mentioned my fondness for certain old West Chester bars that no longer exist. I am fully cognizant that I have been accused of bringing the subject up whenever it struck my fancy, even if the conversation into which I inserted myself dealt with the root causes of the Civil War, or current monetary policy in Trinidad and Tobago.

But I’m pleading innocent on this one. I did not start the conversation this time, although I merrily went along with it. I believe it was Paul, a former borough resident now exiled to the rural pastures outside Marshallton, who broached the subject. I could be wrong.

Paul and his wife lived in the borough for a decade or so, and he became fond of the myriad pleasures the borough had to offer, pleasures I have described on these pages in the past: the historic architecture, the cozy neighborhoods, the alleys that open up newly discovered treasures almost daily.

But what he missed most, it seemed, were the bars.

He told of days spent exercising, finishing up a bicycle ride or a long run and finding himself quenching his thirst at the Square Bar, the best bar in town without a sign on the front door. Or ending a night of fine, upscale urban dining with his bride at a pub where the bartender had no teeth.

We compared notes on those taverns we missed, either because their ambiance was friendly and warm or because their ambiance was slightly threatening and edgy. I’ll let you be the judge which was which.

There was Carlini’s on North Church Street, The Shingle on East Gay Street, Donohue’s at the corner of High and Gay, and the bar they called Joe’s Sportsman’s Lounge on the west side of town. They all echoed a time and place when the borough was something different; an earlier version of its current self, like a teenager just growing into an adult skin.

Most of those places are gone now, replaced by other tap rooms of slightly pricier menus. West Chester endures with or without Carlini’s and Donohue’s, and constantly reinvents itself.

Mosteller’s Department Store becomes the annex to the Chester County Courthouse. The Mansion House Hotel becomes a bank and office building. Mr. Sandwich’s Coffee Shop becomes home to first stockbrokers, then politicians. W.E. Gilbert’s appliance store, where I once bought a VCR, is now Carlino’s Foods, where I recently bought chicken parmesan.

The beer may cost more now at the new spots that have replaced the old, but it doesn’t taste any better.

Just ask Paul.