The hinges of the Bohemian Tavern door squeal as a patron adds their presence to the facility. It’s just past 10 a.m. and some of the tavern’s regulars are already seated in their usual spots with a cold drink.
For Jerry Thompson, it’s a Michelob Ultra with V8. For Richard Cahill, it’s Busch Light. Jeff Kragness, he chose Boneyard draft on this day.
At each mounted barstool is a worn-down circle of faded orange formica, suggesting that the countertop could tell a thousand stories. Above it, tacked to the ceiling, are a handful of dollar bills and a pair of insoles once belonging to timbercutter Elmer Branson, who celebrated his 1987 retirement by leaving his insoles there.
The Bohemian Tavern is rumored to be the city’s longest continuously-running business, and the owners are celebrating its 100th anniversary on Saturday, July 26.
Kragness, now in his 60s, said his earliest memory at the Bohemian is playing football in the rain in the parking lot. He would’ve been about 8 or 9 years old at the time. He explained that his dad would spend Saturdays working on his log truck.
“Inevitably he had to come to town for parts, so we’d end up here,” he said.
According to Kragness, the place pretty much looks the same as back then, save for a smaller kitchen and missing wood stove.
It was in 1980, after his dad died and he turned 21, that Kragness returned to the Bohemian for a beer.
“I wanted to get to know his friends, so I came where they hung out. Been here ever since.”
For him, it’s the people that make the Bohemian special.
Kragness occupies the stool at the furthest end of the bar, taking possession of the seat almost every day by noon.
Thompson, 61, also remembers playing out in the parking lot as a kid while his mother, Sue Thompson, worked inside. From time to time, he would pop in to ask his mom for a soda pop or candy bar. For him today, it’s those memories of his mother working the bar that make the tavern special.
Right about when he was 25, Thompson started making the Bohemian a regular stopping ground.
”It was a good place in the morning to come for a ‘breakfast club’ beer,” he said.
That was back when the millworkers would get off their graveyard shifts and head to the Bohemian for an end-of-the-day drink.
Cahill, pushing 85 and still charming the ladies – some might say– became a part of the Bohemian family when he hit drinking age.
He doesn’t have stories to share about football with friends in the parking lot because he grew up down the street from Maples in Cascadia, where his own dad would grab a cold one. But after he got married and moved to town, he started sharing his sips between the Waterhole and Bohemian.
During his 40-plus years with Melcher Logging, he would sometimes end his shift in the afternoon with a drink before heading home, just like the “breakfast club” guys some time ago who would end their shift with a beer so early in the morning.
On this day, Thompson and Kragness shoot the breeze between the occasional sip of beer. Speaking over music that fills the mostly-empty the room (it’s 10 a.m., after all), they mention the two old guys who come in sometimes. One buys a beer and the other orders a soda, Thompson says. When those guys arrive, regulars know what they’re getting ready to do – go mushroom picking.
“One of them can’t hardly walk,” Kragness said.
“Yeah, they’re on canes and stuff, and they’re just into going after the mushrooms,” Thompson said.
Here inside the walls of the Bohemian Tavern must live thousands of stories left behind like ghosts. Kragness and Thompson suggest they know a few of them, but refuse to unveil the secrets that are, supposedly, not suitable for print.
Cahill is willing to admit he’s seen a few fights at the bar.
Those are the guys who just wanted to see who was tougher, Kragness noted. Still, it’s a mellow bar – tavern, to be precise – he said. Granted, he’s never been there to see what takes place at night. Neither of these guys have, in fact. They’re the daytime crowd.
Any who attend the centennial celebration this weekend may have opportunity to establish a few more stories – good ones – with the provisions of live music, hard alcohol, food, and games and prizes.
After all, a hundred years is a long time, and the next story is always just one round away.