None of this is news, but I'm revisiting the awesomeness of our humble establishment none-the-less. I'm going to brag.
This was The Cave, once upon a time, pre-troglodyte. It was indeed the original man-cave, circa late 70's, replete with ship things, war things, 3d black velvet paintings, and enough bad decor to kill a small, gay horse.
It is, of course, charming in its own way, and I've more than once imagined the meetings that resulted in the decor, the conversations between Mr. Day, Gil, Joe Burns, Vern, each one some version of an old-school crusty guy's guy.
"I like this ship painting. It's pretty. I like the black velvet, and the pretty blue sky. And look, it's 3-D, too!" And then thinking how great all that was. Charming indeed. It really did break my heart when I dismantled this space, but ...
...but I did. Mind you, the paintings are still here, yep, those guys are still here:
Look, there's Joe's business card.
Look, there's Vern's parking space sign. It stayed up for years after he left, now it's in The Cave.
Look, there's Mr. Day - in a newspaper photo reminiscent of the movie Jaws, (I can't find a picture of it to reference) - after the first hunt, there's a closing shot of Robert Shaw standing at the end of the pulpit, a heavenly cloud burst behind him, and he's grinning like the cheshire cat. A man in his element.
And look, there's the ships. They're at the end of the hall, best seen on your way out of The Cave so every departure is with good tidings, with a bon voyage and smooth sailing, ship ahoy and all that, from all the old crusty sea captians that came before me.
Still...
When Marc, from Hart Davis Hart Wine Company, came in Wednesday - a guy who is going to wine storage facilities and wine cellars all over the world - who walks in here like a kid in a candy shop, looking at this place agog and with awe, and he says, "wow..."
I confess, this was a very satisfying moment for your current master of ceremonies. Any time anyone comes in and looks at this place with unexpected wonderment...it's very satisfying. A troglodyte in its pulpit. Cheers.
