We were out exploring our new hood the other night and stopped in at a spot called Sloan’s Tavern. Upon entering I was sure this place would become a regular. Mirrored ceiling, a stone bar back, big porthole windows and warm wood throughout.
They had a vinyl juke box that was (literally) spinning old country-western 45s. It was connected to this 1950s animatronic big band. The little figurine musicians primitively swayed and jerked to the low-fi Hank and Patsy scratching out of the speakers. One of the cozy wooden booths was built into the cab of a 1970s Freightliner semi truck. It’s the kind of place that you can’t design, it just happens over time and the effect was beguiling. This was going to be a regular stop and we’d surely take all our friends.
“She’ll be able to sell that for ten or fifteen thousand” the bartender said when I asked about the animatronic band. “Why would the owner want to sell that?” I incredulously asked as if the place only existed for my amusement. “She’s selling the whole building, we close at the end of the month.”
The 85 year old proprietor, who still works lunch shifts in the kitchen 5 days a week, is retiring and selling off the property.
I’ve lived in Portland for two weeks and am already lamenting change.