July 31, 2003

Plains Folk: Taverns

Tom Isern, Professor of History
North Dakota State University

It was 125 years ago that the United States Supreme Court gave an important ruling having to do with the rights of the public and the rights of property. The court said there were certain businesses that, although private enterprises, were so important to the community they were vested with a public trust, and they could be compelled to serve the public in a reasonable way.

The court in that case was writing about grain elevators. I’m not. I’m writing about bars. We’ve already lost most of our prairie elevators, but maybe we can save some of the taverns.

If you haven’t lived elsewhere, then you may not be aware that pubs on the northern plains are different from ones to the south. A country bar in Oklahoma, say, is a disreputable place. Families don’t go in. A country bar in North Dakota, though, while it may have its complement of serious drinkers, is also a place where grandmothers might play a little pinochle. Or at least it ought to be, because a proper prairie pub is a vital community institution.

You can tell by now I’ve got a bur under my saddle and here it is. We have a serious situation today in our taverns. Many are losing their capacity to serve the whole community because the publicans are not fulfilling their responsibilities.

I’ll give you an example. There’s a bar and grill in a little town where I used to stop while traveling. It had a wonderful atmosphere, in no way uptight, but relaxed, because people behaved themselves. The proprietor had good food available at all times and also was sensitive to unusual demands; when road construction crews were in the vicinity, he kept a buffet open. One night a week there was a pinochle game that attracted folks from towns all around. People drank, or they didn’t.

Then came a change in management. The problem was not just that the food went downhill, but more so, that the owner established no standard of behavior. The language became coarse, and worse as the owner kept pouring for guys who should have been cut off. So I can’t stop there with my grandkids anymore, and I don’t go there myself, because that sort of behavior is just tiresome.

Not far away is another country pub that also was congenial. It had good food, a friendly staff, and a nicely mixed clientele. On Halloween parents brought their kids by in costume to trick or treat the bar. Then a new owner decided to bring in some new business by hosting what he called lingerie shows. Results were predictable: the community lost its social center, and the business of the bar was reduced to a handful of lowlifes.

People of the plains, it is time to take back our taverns. Don’t just go away. Tell your publican what you think. Tell him he has a responsibility to the community. Then get others to deliver the same message.

It may also be time for some direct action. I’m no prude, but in some of these pubs, this business of papering the walls with beer posters of scantily clad women is getting out of hand. A little of that is plenty.

How about this. If that sort of excessive décor is contributing to a bad atmosphere in your hometown pub, then take a nice photo of your volunteer fire department, print it poster size, and carry it to the bar. Take down a beer poster and put up the firemen with a caption something like, "Our home-town heroes."

The next time you go in, bring along a neat poster that lists the men and women from your locality defending freedom in distant lands and invokes the prayers of the community on their behalf.

If your publican takes the new pieces down from the wall, then there’s a good chance the firemen and the legionnaires will take care of him for you.

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Source: Tom Isern, (701) 799-2941, isern@plainsfolk.com
Editor: Rich Mattern, (701) 231-6136, richard.mattern@ndsu.nodak.edu 

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