Episode 3 - Postcard from Bandera, “Downstairs at The Silver Dollar”
In Germany they have biergartens, and in Mexico they have cantinas, but Texas has honky-tonks. What is a honky-tonk? In simple terms, most say it’s just a dive with live music and a little sawdust on the floor. In speaking with the bartenders, musicians and locals at Arkey Blue’s Silver Dollar, however, it’s clear this place means a great deal more. We’ll hear some music, a few tall tales, and discover along the way that while Bandera may have been built around a courthouse square, this basement venue is its true heart and soul.
Interested in visiting Arkey Blue’s Silver Dollar? Check them out on facebook.
Musicians featured in this episode include-
Rebel Roxie - facebook
Linda Wilder and Texas Country, with guest Laurie Gibson on fiddle - facebook
The Blue Cowboys
To learn more about Bandera’s rich music scene, visit banderaunsung.com to watch an excellent sizzle reel from an upcoming documentary featuring many of the exceptional talents one can expect to encounter in this one of a kind Texas town.
If visiting Bandera, some other fantastic spots to catch live music include The 11th Street Cowboy Bar, Boot & Saddle Saloon and Dance Hall, and Red Horse Saloon.
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TRANSCRIPT
(Please note as this transcript was obtained via a computerized service, please forgive any typos)
Evan (00:04):
I promise I'm not a lush, but considering the dives I frequent in this series can see how it would be easy for you to make that assumption. Truth be known, I'm actually something of a lightweight- And for me, drinking is only part of the equation because I just believe a great bar can tell you a lot about a place. The Irish have pubs, Germans have beer gardens and in Mexico they have cantinas, but in Texas we have honky-tonks. And as I think you'll discover on today's trip to Bandara there's no, honky-tonk quite like Arkey Blue's Silver Dollar. I'm Evan Stern. And this is Vanishing Postcards.
Speaker 2 (01:23):
[inaudible]
Evan (01:23):
It's Friday night and Cyndi Gonzales, the lead singer of the band Rebel Roxy is working the crowd at the 11th Street Cowboy Bar. I think her song choice is pretty fitting because when it comes to a night on the town, you won't have to go far or spend much on a round in Bandera-
Cathy (01:39):
Go to other small towns, maybe that are comparable in size to ours. And you go through those towns. And I mean, the streets roll up at eight o'clock, whereas we are a party town and there's always bands, um, going on at some bar, you know, even during the week. And so you're always going to find a little bit of action.
Linda Wilder (02:03):
Uh, it's the biggest, friendliest little town you've ever seen in your life. We've only got 950 people here when we have 25,000 people in the whole County. And yet every weekend Bandera is slammed full of people. Busy.
Evan (02:19):
If you've never been here, Bandera sits about 50 miles west of San Antonio in a picturesque corner of the Hill Country. It's small and lacks the historic and architectural refinement of nearby towns like Boerne and Fredericksburg. But when it comes to fun, the options for trouble around here could give some of the big cities I've visited a run for their money. Walk around the corner, and you'll find The Chicken Coop. Heading into town from the west, you'll happen upon the Red Horse and half a mile up 16 will lead you to The Boot and Saddle. All of these dives have salty charm in spades, but while I hate to ruffle the feathers of any locals, for my money, only one of this town's many good watering holes can claim truly legendary status.
Hoot Gibson (03:00):
You, you can go a lot of places and you look for- you kind of looking over your back all the time. Here, you're looking for a piece of firewood in the winter time and a cold beer when it's in August. I, you know, that's about all I can say about that. But now it's, um, it's just a honky-tonk that has a lot of memories. And, um, it's kind of like a cowboy church or a cowboy museum. And if you want to be politically correct it's for cowgirls, too. I thought they comes together, I didn't know they comes in ones and ones. It's just a good place to relax. Hang your hat. Go dancing. Oh, the ones that get out of hand- we take care of them, kind of. And the ones that want to have a good time- we help them. You know,
Evan (04:04):
They place we're talking about is Arkey Blue's Silver Dollar. Tucked behind a discreet red door on Main Street, for the uninitiated, it can be easy to overlook. But to pass this spot would be to miss out on a night at the oldest and in my mind, best continuously operating honky-tonk in Texas. What is a honky-tonk, you might ask? The history and origins of the term are disputed. So, instead of falling down that rabbit hole, I decided to pose that question to a few regulars, just to get a basic description.-
Speaker 4 (04:34):
First hint that you're in a honky tonk. If you walked down in the stairs and there's saw dust on the floor and there's live music and cold beer, it's pretty, pretty much assured you're in sa honky-tonk.
Linda Wilder (04:48):
But a honky tonk is just a beer bar that's known for old timey country western music, and a little sawdust on the floor.
Evan (04:57):
Well, Arkey Blue's has sawdust for sure. Be careful not to slip on any after you come down the stairs at the entrance, as you'll find yourself immediately standing on the dance floor. After your eyes, adjust to the dark, look to your right, and you'll see a small stage. The night I was there, a group called Texas country had everyone clapping along. Checkered cloth covered picnic tables line the wall and past the pool table on the other end of the room, you'll find the wooden bar stocked with Lonen Star, Michelob and miniature bottles of Sutter Home for the ladies. Altogether, It ain't much. A low ceiling of pressed red tin, four walls covered with posters, occasional taxidermy and beer signs, and a haze of Marlboro scented air. But the place just has a certain feeling about it.
Linda Wilder (05:46):
Everybody's played here from Hank Williams, uh, Darrell McCall, uh, Willie Nelson, um, some of the old time, uh, artists, Ernest Tubb, way back when, uh, so many great people had played here. It's just like there's music in the wood there's music in the furniture. It just has that vibe to it.
Bar patron (06:11):
My first memory of Bandera was seeing it in a magazine and it said home of the best country music in the world. So we came here just on the spur of the moment and we walked down those steps and I was in flip-flops and I danced until I had blisters on my feet and had a blast and said, "We're coming back!" And we've been back every year since.
Evan (06:36):
Housed in what had been an old Telegraph office, singing cowboy Arkey Juenke, who was granted the name Arkey Blue by a producer, given his pension for broken-hearted country ballads took over the place in 1968. Since then he's kept it open 365 days a year, only closing it once in its 52 years on the occasion of his Oma's passing. He and his band still play here every Saturday night. And in speaking with the regulars and those who work here, everyone seems to agree that Arkey is the glue that binds The Silver Dollar together.
Bar patron (07:10):
He's an icon. He's an icon you need to be here.
Cathy (07:14):
Arkey is, is this place. I mean, if, if he wasn't here, I don't know that it would ever be the same. This is his place. And people come here because of him
Evan (07:29):
With a reputation like this, I had to meet the man and was told I could count on finding him here in the mornings where he gathers with a breakfast club of old ranchers. I strolled in around 10 30 to find a small but sturdy crew seated at a long fold-out I'd learn is referred to as The Table of Knowledge. A Playboy magazine sat casually splayed in its center. The TV in the corner was turned to a cattle auction, while the fireplace warmed the room and a few engaged in a fierce battle at the Dolly Parton themed pinball machine. All were smoking and most drank beer. But Arkey sat at the head quietly, sipping a coffee with a dollop of heavy whipped cream. 80 something, tall and pale skinned, he wore a t-shirt workman's jeans, floppy wide brim hat and boots. Pulling up a chair to his side,
Evan (08:19):
I felt like every inch and interloper and while cordial, Arkey refused to let me record him. "I ain't got nothing to say," He said. "What you see is what you get." I try anyway, "What was your first night of business here like?" He says, "Hell, I can't remember." I shift gears. "If you could give a piece of advice to a young musician, what would you say?" "I don't know." "Okay. If this place were to go up in flames and you could only run in and save one thing, what would you grab?" "Don't talk about this place catching on fire!" Well, based on some of the conversations I had, it sounds like he might have skirted this danger a few times.
Saprina (09:08):
One night, I wasn't here, but I heard about it that he lit a fire under one of the bartenders chairs. That he, through the evening he kept walking by and had wadded up paper towels that he was tossing under her chair. She was drinking. She was off duty, she's drinking and not paying attention. And then he lit it on fire.
Cathy (09:26):
Some of his favorite things to do are like, somebody I'll be sitting in a chair and he'll go in the bathroom and get a big old wad of toilet paper and put it under your chair and set it on fire.
Barbara (09:37):
In fact, I went to the ladies room one time and I came back and I sat down, and I kept smelling something. I said, "What is that?" And so happened, I had a pair of shoes on that had a little straw on the bottom of it. And he caught the bottom of my seat on fire. And I said, "Arkey!" He said, "Barbara!" He caught the bottom of my chair and he put a fire under my chair and I couldn't believe he did it, but now I'm laughing about it. At the time, I wasn't very happy, but I love Arkey, so I got over it. Yeah.
Evan (10:12):
Back at The Table of Knowledge. Arkey's daughter-in-law Charlotte, who's sitting to his left, tries to open him up. But after a few moments, he casually rises and exits the room. I ask Charlotte, if I'm driving him crazy? She says, "If you were annoying him, he would have left a long time ago." He comes back, handing me a CD, "The Best of Arkey Blue, Favorites from Four Albums." Here, he says, shaking my hand. This is my life's story. I can respect that. But if Arkey won't speak, his bartenders, Cathy and Saprina seem happy to talk for him.
Cathy (10:50):
I chose this place thinking it was going to be temporary and it's turned into 22 years. And that there again is because of Arkey. I mean, there's, there's four of us that have been here 18 plus years, which is unheard of in a bar, you know, most, most often. I mean- fly by night. But he's just so good to us. And we've just all stayed and we're devoted to him. And he's devoted to us, and we have wonderful customers. And you know, just mostly because of him-
Evan (11:24):
Saprina, whom I chatted with as Linda Wilder led the Saturday afternoon jam session in the background, told a similar story.
Saprina (11:33):
Well, we were headed to Bloomington south of Victoria. My husband had been through here many times. So we stopped one Sunday evening and headed down the steps. And I called this place a dump. I said, "What a dump!" Arkey heard me. Little did I know, five years later, we'd move here. I would quit my job, because I didn't want to be in Austin. And I would end up going to work in Arkey's dump as I called it,
Evan (12:01):
It's now been 19 years. And she tells me that she knew she was working a very different kind of job, when on the night of her first shift, a man brought a Longhorn steer inside. And when I asked her what her wildest memory is of Arkey- she doesn't hesitate.
Saprina (12:16):
One night. I left here. He told me to go ahead and go home. There wasn't any- it was a week, night. It's pretty slow. And I got about 30 foot out the door and heard a gun go off. And so I came running back in here and Arkey is walking back up from the front up there with a possum in his hand and a shotgun in the other hand. And I said, "What the hell are you doing?" And he said, "Well, I knew that son of a bitch got in here and was hiding up there, and that's why I wanted you out of here 'cause I brought my gun over earlier and I was going to get him and I got him!" So the back of that booth up there by the steps, it's got little pepper marks all in it where he shot that shotgun. But yeah, Arkey doesn't have a problem shooting a gun in here. If there's a critter in here and nobody else around he'll, he'll go after it.
Evan (13:09):
But Longhorn steers and possums, aren't the only four legged creatures to have made it through the red door. On break, I asked Linda if in her years of playing here, she can name any particularly wild sightings.
Linda (13:21):
Well, a horse came down those stairs that most people have trouble with. We had a horse and rider come down once. Had a lady, tried to pole dance on these square beams. That was quite an interesting, um, a few sexual exploits in here. You know, just a normal honky-tonk.
Evan (13:45):
Turns out Soprina was here for the horse, too.
Saprina (13:49):
Uh, Labor Day weekend, this place was packed. And uh, I kept telling people to get out of the way because the horse had shoes on. And I knew when it hit the cement, it was going to slide and it did. It had slid all the way up to this post and we had people scattering. But, um, that's probably the wildest thing I've seen in here.
Evan (14:07):
The man responsible for this stunt was none other than local cowboy Hoot Gibson, who as luck had it just happened to be standing at the bar.
Hoot Gibson (14:14):
All those bad words you say, like "son of a bitch" and all them other shit ass words, and all that. They're wrong. They're adjectives. I do it too. But not God's name in vain. And if you edit that out, that'd be okay. If you put it in there, put it in capital letters.
Evan (14:37):
Strutting through the bar in spurs a slouch hat, full length coat and bandana, I trust this one-time roughneck could have had a shot at landing a role in a John Ford Western had he been born a few decades prior. Following an introduction from Soprina, we grab a seat on the back patio where he puffs on a hand rolled, unfiltered cigarette. Running fingers through his graying walrus mustache, he tells me of the trail ride he guided to Canada, how an oil patch secretary nicknamed him for a silent screen star. And the day he gave up rodeos,
Hoot Gibson (15:10):
I got off riding bulls when I was 49 years old. That's the last time I pulled on a nine ply riggin with a bell. That son of a poochie did exactly what another guy told me that bull was going to buck. And I rode off handed instead of riding for the buck. I'd already rigged the tie with a left instead of a right hand. I ended up breaking three ribs in the back, big ribs, puncturing a lung. And I got off of that bull and I barely could breathe. And I said, "I'm getting too old for this, shit." So I quit riding bulls when I was 49,
Evan (15:52):
Sick of work in the oil fields, Hoot moved to Bandera in 1987. And he'll tell you that since then, The Silver Dollar has provided something of a second home.
Hoot Gibson (16:03):
The experiences of The Silver Dollar in Bandera over the last 30, 40 years to me has been personal. They'd get my mail here. People from all over the world, when they mail me a letter or package or do something in there, I didn't have a address. Uh, but they always knew I'm coming back to The Silver Dollar. I know that, but so I just had all my mail routed to The Silver Dollar and yeah,
Evan (16:43):
But while this place has earned the title of institution, Cathy and Soprina, without prompting, both confided in me, some anxieties concerning the inevitability of a Silver Dollar without Arkey Blue.
Saprina (16:57):
It's going to be really sad because I'm afraid they're going to lose the last symbol of Bandera. We've already lost The Cabaret and The Purple Cow. And I'm really praying that The Silver Dollar is not next in line because I'm sure his son's going to take over and try to keep it running. But he's not a singer and performer. I don't know what that's going to look like. You know, without Arkey here,
Evan (17:32):
One resident I spoke with who requested anonymity, went so far to say she has visions of the sidewalks of Bandera curling up and in on themselves without him. "Arkey Jr. Is not Arkey senior," She told me. But for Hoot, this is the thought he'd rather not entertain.
Hoot Gibson (17:51):
I ain't got on that horse. I don't know. I guess he'll be like George Jones, Caesar Massey, Waylon Jennings, Merle Haggard. He's got the memories and, who's going to fill his shoes? I can't, I can't go there because ain't nobody going to fill his shoes. But life goes on. Don't want to think about crap like that right now. It's not. What is inevitably going to be is whatever is going to be. If there's one thing that's true to life, nothing stays the same. It changes. Whatever, it changes. What used to be a six Byron, an old truck is now kind of like more like Cadillac truck and who in the hell wants to pay 40, $50,000 for something that 'aint got a shower and a crapper in it. You know? I mean, it's, you can do them there. Other places, you know,
Evan (19:16):
He's got some points. That night after dinner, I returned here to catch Arkey's set, which I'm told starts promptly at 8:30. But while his band, The Blue Cowboys are on stage playing a Waylon Jennings cover, I don't see Arkey. Turns out, he usually doesn't roll in until around 10. And even then only gets up and performs when he feels like it. Some nights, not at all, and given his reticence this morning and having already nursed two beers, I decided to go ahead and call it quits. Dodging couples on the dance floor, I leave a10 in the band's jar, then head upstairs to leave. And you know what? I think that's okay. Because here's the deal. Maybe I'm a naive tourist, but based on the hours I spent here believe The Silver Dollar exists on its own terms. Yes. Arkey deserves every accolade for building this honky-tonk heaven into what it is over the last half century.
Evan (20:19):
But it's about more than him. It's about people like Cathy, Saprina and Hoot as well. Bandera might've been built around a courthouse square, but I believe this place to be its true heart and soul. Yes, it will change. Transitions are rocky, and other seemingly immortal joints have closed. However, provided Arkey's son keeps the atmosphere safe and fun for workers, the bands continue to play and folks still come to this town in search of a dusty floor to dance on, I think The Silver Dollar will endure. And on that note, I'll leave it to Hoot to close us out.
Hoot Gibson (21:04):
What'd they say? Uh, 18 or 80, cripple, blonde or crazy. I'm going dancing tonight. It don't matter which one, it gets a hold of me or I get a hold of them. You know that that's pretty much a hoot, if you know what I mean?
Speaker 5 (21:42):
Bob Wills is still the king! …And so is Arkey Blue!
