The Bluegrass Tavern Chronicles(page-3)

 

     I would usually head home around midnight on school nights, took my shower in the basement, and went to my bed, I nodded off when the phone rang and my mom hollered down to the basement and said it was Joe, I answered, and Joe was upset, rattled, and unsettled, but he told me to come up earlier to clean up the place, and said that some poor guy was murdered in his place with a gun, was shot in the head, and the place was quite messy, I said, “yes Joe, I'll be there at 5:00, no problem.” Joe hung up the phone but by then I was too upset to fall back to sleep, I tossed and turned all night until the alarm clock went off at 5:00. 

     I lived less than two miles from Joe’s but that ride that morning seemed to take forever, I was scared to enter, I thought blood and brains would be scattered all over the walls, bar, tables, and floor. I always parked in front very close to the door, I got out of the car shaking but gathered myself because I've killed deer, squirrels, and rabbits, so I can handle a little splattered blood, I opened the door with my key and turned on all the lights, and by some miracle, the place was spotless except for the bathrooms and behind the bar, and a few tables, I was immediately relieved and all my stress was over. I cleaned up the rest of the place, mopped the floors, cleaned the urinals, and took out the trash. I double-checked everything and locked the door and headed to school. 

     I usually checked in at Joe's during the weekdays, but I didn't want to bother because he had too much on his plate to have any loose talk; it's not an everyday event that someone gets shot and killed at your local bar. I cleaned up the bar and met up on Saturday nights and settled up with my pay from Joe and always spent most of my wages there too. 

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The Bluegrass Tavern Chronicles(page-5)

 

     There are thousands of stories I could write about Joe, but one night Feather Welch, who was a kind loving soul and very intelligent too, though Feather had a drinking problem like many who entered Joe’s establishment, was agitated that night and uncharacteristically loud and mouthy, Joe was not in a great and best mood himself, Feather told Joe, “Fuck you,” and yet Joe ignored him, the night progressed with more assertive badgering by Feather, this aggression was amped up further with each passing moment, this bellicosity was fomenting into a crest of madness, Feather seemed triggered by Joe’s ignoble defiance of balking on every engagement, Joe’s patience though was escalating, this perturbation was backing him up into a corner; Joe was a boxer in the Army, so, he had no problem knocking anyone's block off, and he hit with accuracy and thunderous pummeling. Feather wanted a free beer sitting at the barstool, but Joe declined to give him one, which spurned Feather into combatants of verbal abuse, again, Joe just ignored him. At almost midnight, Joe was about to close the doors, Feather managed to coax others to buy him a few beers, but the night on average was very slow, Joe told everyone to leave, and it was closing time. 

     Feather jumped up from his stool and whispered something into Joe’s ear, Joe immediately shoved Feather back, knocking over a chair or two, Feather got right back up and shoved Joe back into some tables, this riled Joe into a frenzy, and he hit Feather in the jaw, which would easily have knocked out anyone but not Feather, Feather grabbed Joe and wrestled him to the floor, hitting him with a few punches that seemed to just glance off Joe’s face without any damage, they somehow ended up on the dancefloor, Joe was on top of Feather then Feather was on top of Joe, both gasping for air, both out of shape, and yet both wanted to win, neither one batted an eye, they went after each other like animals, I seriously think if one had a gun on them that one would have shot the other. Feather was getting the best of Joe too, hurting Joe as I've never seen, never knew Joe could be bested or beaten by a drunk but Feather was sticking him with good hits, then they locked up on the floor again. They looked like to grizzly bears mauling each other.

  

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The Bluegrass Tavern Chronicles( page 2)

 

     Joe was often worn out trying to work 40 hours a week at Lily Tulip and trying to run his bar too, many times he was in a vile mood but he came around after a few cold mugs of draft beer and hitting a joint, Joe loved his weed, smoked one early in the morning to get busy, he would clean hundreds of dirty mugs in minutes, watching him clean those dirty mugs was like observing a master at work, swishing each mug in a protruding glass ticker and coating each one of them in some sanitary blue solution would often throw you into a hypnotic state. Joe took great pride in serving a cold sanitized draft-mug of beer. 

     Music had a great influence on Joe, he had huge speakers and a stereo unit set up in his place, and he had a paying jukebox filled with mostly country music too, but had greats like Blue Oyster Cult, CSNY, CCR, The Eagles in that sound machine too for the young people. On Friday and Saturday nights the Tavern was rocking the roof off that joint, beer flowed out of Joe’s taps like Niagara Falls flowing into Angel Falls, he would let us the younger ones drink too, but we had to drink it in a red solo cup, which we never mind, and Joe had pool tables in an adjoining room with barstools set up on the half-wall to view the pool hustlers shuffle their cues. 

     Joe had his dream come true, people flocked to his place like migrating alcoholic geese, Joe wanted every patron to have the freedom to enjoy their mug of beer and relish some Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings with reckless abandonment. On certain Saturday nights, you could find Joe tipsy to Saint Augustine’s recipe and Joe could dance an incredible teeter like Fred Flintstone on his bowling toes, for a big man, Joe moved gracefully. Joe seemed very happy, his contentedness exuded on these rare nights, life is filled with wonders, and when your hard work rewards you tenfold you know you're successful. Joe finally could relax and reap the benefits at an early age, barely in his forties, God blessed him with a wife, a bar, and soon a child. 

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The Bluegrass Tavern Chronicles

                                   The Bluegrass Tavern Chronicles 

                                                   by John Hardesty

     This true yarn of magnificent pieces unravels slowly over the decades, the Godfather of it all is Joe Lawrence Thompson, who bought a parcel of land by the Bluegrass Parkway(Interstate highway) and fulfilled his dream and that was a local bar that served Joe burgers, fries, and the coldest draft beer on tap. Joe’s life and story must be retold in his 70-plus years of existence, his life was impressive enough to be written and read. I worked for Joe when I was a kid, my first job too, so, I have firsthand knowledge of the familiar patrons who frequent Joe’s bar, there were many too who stopped by his establishment and flopped on a barstool to have a cold draft beer on tap and listening to Joe’s infinite wisdom on life. 

     This chronicle will list a short story about EVERYONE who visited The Bluegrass Tavern or commonly known as Joe’s Place, but first, I'll open this incredible log with the Godfather, Joe L. Thompson. 

                                          Joe Lawrence Thompson

     I just got my driver’s license, and my very first car, a 1973 Vega, that I saved up for all my life, my dad was monumental in helping me get my car and my first ever job in the real world; my summertime school recession and endless farm hand jobs were nothing compared to my new endeavor, cleaning the new Bluegrass Tavern. My dad introduced me to a man, Joe Lawrence Thompson, whom I will say was my second dad, yes, we disagreed on many things and squabbled over trite and trivial affairs, but, he was an honest, caring, and forgiving soul. 

    Early in my working career at the tavern, I had to wake up Joe every morning to get the keys to clean up the Tavern before I went to school, I was a Freshmen at Nelson County School, and he wasn't a fan of being woke up at 5:30 in the morning, especially when he gambled away the sun before sunrise, so, he invested in me with the keys to the Bluegrass Tavern, which I took with great care, attention, and respect. 

     Joe L. was an Army veteran, and yet, I've never heard him say anything about his Army tenure or tour of duty, and not too many ever did, so, I never brought it up. Joe was employed at the old Lily Tulip franchise, right across from the new Nelson County high school. He hated that working place too. 

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 Lust is a funny game

Where one loves deeper

The other hides in shame