Boardwalk at National Hall

I once applied to bartend at the Inn at National Hall that overlooked the beautiful Saugatuck river from the west side of the bridge in downtown Westport. All I really knew of the fairly new venue was that President Bill Clinton had reportedly stayed there when he was in town campaigning.

The upscale restaurant on the first floor featured an elegant bar that boasted a vast wine collection. I realized my weakness immediately upon entering, having only tended bar in a popular local college spot in upstate New York where we certainly never had to unscrew a single wine bottle. The only bottle opener we needed was to pop off the caps to the endless bottles of Labatt’s Blue. I went to school in real upstate New York – we’re not talking about Poughkeepsie, or even Albany…

The village of Canton is a mere twenty miles from the Canadian border. Other than the two dollar bottles o’ Blue, we mostly served up shots like Jagermeister and mixed drinks like gin and tonics in cheap clear plastic cups – ordered by the mainly preppy, and largely underage St. Lawrence University students who poured into the infamous Tick Tock Inn to drink, dance, and perhaps black out after a day of liberal arts classes or an evening cheering on our Division I hockey team. I didn’t even learn to use a register as this mainstay of Canton NY was owned by a local who got away with operating it as a cash business for decades.

Needless to say, my Tick Tock ‘tending resume must’ve proved lackluster to the National Inn management, and I did not get the gig at the ritzy Inn’s bar. Besides zero experience uncorking wine bottles, I don’t think I had the look for that classy establishment. Moreover, I’m sure I still resembled more like a high schooler to those in charge. Instead, I would later land a bartending job for which I was better suited– believe it or not, at a biker bar in Black Rock.

Ten miles up the road from the National Inn, just over the Ash Creek and the Fairfield/Bridgeport line, lived a joint called The Avenue Cafe. That name did not accurately capture the vibe of this dark, divey watering hole where you’d find a cast of characters that may include Hells Angels prospects, hardworking people of the various trades such as carpenters and electricians, and definitely some alcoholics of various levels of functioning. The Ave, as the regulars referred to it, hosted a shots-and-beer crowd. My typical patron might simply request “a shot o’ Jack and a Bud.” Unlike the bar at National Hall, I can assure you Bill Clinton never bellied up to the bar at the Avenue Cafe...