I have seen “The Other Side of Auburn,” and it is the 160 Club, a venerable honky-tonk, watering hole and good-time emporium where I made my first memorable visit a few Saturdays ago.
Located at 160 Cleveland, a non-descript hole in the wall on a side
street consuming a single city block, Downtown’s 160 Club is familiar
to regulars of the place by another name, a.k.a. “Bob and Betty’s.”
While this joint has served the community for eons, of the four people
in my group that evening, three of us were fresh meat, including one
friend who has lived here for more than 20 years.
While there was no formal entertainment on this particular night, there
was no need—a band would have deflected attention from the true stars
of the evening—the place and the people. I spent barely an hour in this
wonderland of debauchery, but it was as much pure fun as I’ve had in a
long time.
Back in the day—and I’m sorry I wasn’t here to participate—Auburn was
loaded with gin mills that for many served as the only escape available
from the monotonous routine of life in a small, isolated town at the
base of the Sierra. Sadly, the 160 Club is part of a dying breed of
old-school party venues, though those that remain are doing reasonably
well simply based on the economic realities of market-share potential.
Izzy’s Corner Pub was the most recent fatality, shutting down its taps
on Lincoln Way earlier this year. It had a very cool, vintage neon sign
dominating the front of the building, with simplistic, blazingly
colorful images of choppers and muscle cars filling the storefront
windows. I had a beer there once, but it didn’t seem like the kind of
place where the bartender would ever feel comfortable remembering my
name.
Five years ago in the heart of Downtown, the Smoke Shop finally
succumbed. Though it had some very interesting features—an impressive
bar, unique humidor and great staff—its death knell was sounded by the
rapidly changing demographics of Auburn. The fact that the Club Car,
now operated by Sarah and Marcello Nolivo, took the same space and
instantly transformed it into a successful, upscale live-entertainment
and dining hot spot, is evidence of the changing tastes of this
community.
Ask someone who has lived here longer than me about the exact year, but
when the Happy Hour closed in Old Town, it was the first blow to the
“Bermuda Triangle” of three bars frequented by lawyers, judges and
tradesmen alike. In the ultimate expression of democracy, all were
welcomed in the Shanghai Bar and the California Club, and patrons
circulated among the three joints—sometimes stumbling across the Plaza,
I suspect. Volunteer fireman, after dousing blazes, would quench their
thirsts liberally at the Shanghai before returning their red machines
to the barn ... at least that’s the popular lore.
Though many fans still light candles in remembrance, the Shanghai has
been shuttered for more than two years, recently replaced by the Auburn
Alehouse, widely acclaimed as the best thing that has happened to Old
Town in years. The family-friendly brew pub has energized the historic
district in a way few imagined possible, and every merchant’s boat
seems to be rising.
My advice is if you haven’t ever been there, visit the California Club
soon, the last remaining vestige of and link to the glory days of Old
Town. It is the real deal, and I love the joint. Owners Hank Gonzales
and Kimbuck Williams are savvy dudes, and they are making subtle
changes to keep pace with the times, including interior renovations and
adding a regular schedule of bands and comedy nights to draw new
customers. Get there fast before the place goes mainstream.
I’ve been to all of Auburn’s finest establishments now – including
Pistol Pete’s – but none compares to my recent evening at the 160
Club. To say the least, it was an intense and immensely revealing
experience.
The space is intimate, though too brightly lit, with a low ceiling and
people crowded around the bar on the left as you enter. I haven’t seen
a real shuffleboard table since emigrating from Chicago, but there was
one sitting in the middle of the place, complete with sawdust and being
used by expert players. A low partition splits the room in half,
making room for a pool table on the other side. Who could ask for more?
My group arrived at about 10:30 p.m., and the joint was rocking to a
juke box. We found a couple of open seats at the bar and ordered,
watching liberally lubricated couples grinding it out on the makeshift
dance floor. Three exotic young women, one dressed in a skimpy leather
halter top, danced provocatively with eager young men and, amazingly,
with each other. My, my, oh my, they were very friendly, indeed.
The svelte woman in the halter top, long blond tresses caressing her
bare shoulders—arms raised, clutching a Corona and seductively swaying
to the beat—was impulsively caught up in the moment. In an act widely
appreciated by the gentlemen in attendance, she briefly and
provocatively unveiled twin attributes of which she has every reason to
be proud.
You know, every once in a while you just have to let your hair down. And if I had any, I would.
Gary Moffat is a journalist and co-owner of Carpe Vino in Old Town
Auburn. Read his other work at www.onlyinauburn.com and
www.carpevinoauburn.com .
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