The Palomino Lounge: A race against time
Sallie is 83 years old, and she kicked my ass. Five times.
Sallie used to play professionally. Darts, that is. For the Palomino Lounge, that place on Delmar you’ve passed a hundred times, but never gone in. It is just east of the ever-expanding Loop, but isolated enough that you wonder if you should enter.
Get over it, go in and pull up a chair. The Palomino is friendly and warm, as I discovered on Super Bowl Sunday, when 10 other folks and I watched the New York Giants upset the New England Patriots in the last minute of the Championship game.
My formidable opponent at darts is about 5’2”, clad in a Harris-Stowe University sweatshirt and a giveaway “Budweiser – King of Beers” baseball hat which she is wearing backwards. She also has draped over her chair a shiny windbreaker emblazoned with the Palomino’s name and address. Despite her size and age, you’d better not mess with her. She tells me of a youngster with his pants too low who asked her for money recently. She wagged her finger in his face, told him to pull his pants up and get a job. The next time he saw her, he was notably more graceful in greeting her. She also has a daughter who is a cop. She speaks of how she used to walk her daughter in a stroller 40 years ago, and there was nothing to be afraid of, even at night. Times have changed, Sallie sighs.
Closer to the television sits Barbara, the proprietor of the Palomino Lounge. She bought the bar in 1985, although it operated under that name since the mid-1960s. Nobody could tell me the exact origin of the name, other than “someone liked horses.” Posters and wood-carved examples of the namesake are displayed above the bar and on the walls, although less prominently than before, according to both Barbara and her son, Tracy, the bartender.
The jukebox trumps the Super Bowl as far as sound goes in the room. The regulars don’t seem to mind the repetition of the songs, which tonight feature primarily old-school R&B tunes. If you choose an unfamiliar track, be prepared to sing the words as a rite of passage. By a stroke of fortune, I gain instant respect with some instrumental Miles Davis, and didn’t have to embarrass myself.
This evening, the bar feels like a group of extended family members watching the game in someone’s living room. Barbara made chili, which has a nice kick to it, and Sallie made devilled eggs, apparently always a hit. Everyone else knows each other, and they loudly celebrate each first down of their team in the faces of their friends rooting for the other side.
The Palomino is small, neighborly, and comfortable. Two dartboards sit in the back, beckoning players. Pints of hard alcohol sit behind the bar, and can be ordered with a bowl of ice and a soda or juice for a dollar extra. Buckets of A-B product are the Super Bowl special, but cans of Stag are served fresh and cold.
Sallie tells me again of the old days and raising children. She recalls that taking a fly swatter to a child’s behind was one of the best ways to instill discipline (she vehemently differentiates this from actually laying a hand on a kid). Also, the downfall of youth today apparently began when prayer was removed from the schools. Both things are explained with colorful adult language, and I nod vigorously as if I completely understand her. I also somewhat foolishly express my proud City residency in Dogtown; her response is a shrug and a comment about “south city.” I protest briefly, and start to say something lame about “central corridor,” but cannot deny the fact that I do live south of our current point of reference.
The Palomino sits at a crossroads. It is located on the south side of the conventional racial divide for the City, but it serves a primarily African-American clientele. It is just over the hump from the burgeoning Loop business district, yet has existed since before Joe Edwards bought, rehabbed and sold the Tivoli Theatre. You have likely seen it, it begs to be visited, and you won’t be disappointed. The drinks are poured strong and priced cheap. Just bring your A-game as far as the dart board is concerned. Sallie will be waiting for you.
You can e-mail John Ginsburg at ginsbujo@alumni.cmu.edu.
