Elbow Room has Re-Opened

As a child of the 60s, I recall walking to town to run errands with my dad and sister. Errands usually included a trip to Sherwin Williams and Western Auto followed by a stop at the Elbow Room. (Obviously, there were lax laws about taking kids into bars back then.)

I fondly remember the nickel pinball machine. Neither my sister nor I were large enough to play it, so bar stools were placed on either side so we each had our own flapper. My dad and his friends kept a stack of nickels for us to play while they enjoyed a few beers in an always-friendly atmosphere.

Sadly, I was still a teen when I lost my dad. With time, all the places that held memories of him were out of business or torn down; save one, the Elbow Room. Well into our adult lives, my sister and I would visit the Elbow Room, especially during times of personal difficulty. We referred to these visits as “communing with Daddy.” Somehow, being there, sitting at the bar where he had sat, having a drink in his memory brought us comfort.

After the Elbow Room closed, I found that I missed my visits there and missed the opportunity to commune with Daddy. This was the driving force behind my venture to reopen the bar.

My dad, brother, sister and me (the baby)
Opening the Elbow Room is a tribute to my dad.

 

During the recent renovations, we’ve learned that we are not the only ones who have missed her. Almost every day during the renovations someone stopped by, took a seat at a non-open bar to reminisce about their memories. We heard about first legal beers, how spouses were met, performers who played there, and, of course, about Buckshot the bartending dog. (More about Buckshot and his best friend John later.)

As we renovated, the Elbow Room gave up some of her secrets. When paneling that was installed in the late 60s was removed, we were amazed to find artwork. Behind this paneling layered with paint, we uncovered two large silkscreen-on-canvas panels attached to the original walls. These art panels have been concealed for more than 60 years. We are currently cleaning and conserving these hidden treasures and feel that they are a perfect match for the new atmosphere of a safe, smoke-free hometown pub (aka, beer joint) where everyone really does know your name.

The Bow giving up her secrets

 

Coming clean.
A slow, meticulous process to remove more than a half century of nicotine that made it's way through layers of paint and behind the paneling.

Every girl (Yes, the Elbow Room is a she.) wants to be loved for who and what she is, regardless of how she looks. But, from time-to-time, every girl deserves a makeover. We are giving the Elbow Room her makeover.

 

Her make over is coming along nicely.

The crazy beautiful bar top is not actually copper. It is a beautiful copper paint treatment done by the most awesome son. He has mad skills.

In the beginning

I've come to the realization that I have everything (everything substantially relevant, in my opinion) it takes to be the perfect women. I'm educated. I'm independent. I'm gainfully employed. I have a bar. That's right a bar. What more could anyone want? (Please don't answer that.)

Well, bar might note be the best description for it. It's more of a pub. Okay, that might also be a stretch. Let's call it what it is--a beer joint. A beer joint because there is no kitchen so we don't serve food. In Mississippi, without a kitchen and percentage of the income from food, one cannot get a liquor license.

This small beer joint located in the historic district (not the good street) of Columbus, Mississippi was opened in 1952. At least that's what the sign out front says. Some locals say that it' been around longer.

I knew the bar well before I decided to re-open it. It had been a place I rarely visited as an adult when I lived in Columbus--the town where I grew up--but visited often on return visits. I should mention here that I live in California and the bar is in Mississippi. (A long story which will be addressed later.) The bar had been closed for about a year when I made the decision to venture into the world of late nights and cold brews. I was certain that this would be a relatively easy, turn-key start up business. It's not like I was starting from scratch. Or so I thought.


The lease was signed, licenses and permits applied for. All was done and the only thing left was to get the key and hire a cleaning crew to go in, clean up, and stock the inventory.  My heart sank when I receive a one line text from my bar manager (the most awesome son a mother could have.) "This place should be condemned."

That one line was followed by these photos.

The roof was leaking. Ceiling tiles had fallen. BTW, that's not a tin ceiling.
It's a Styrofoam tile ceiling from completely covered in nicotine.

That's not heavy dust in the pictures. That mold! Long, hot, humid Mississippi summers and a leaking roof during the rainy seasons had resulted in mold everywhere.

The previous tenants had simply closed the door and walked away.
Beer was still in the coolers and trash in the cans.
It was a real assault on the eyes that the previous tenets had
painted the place Kelley green. GAK!

The condition was almost a show-stopper. But, as is my nature,
I decided that I was up for the challenge.

Putting on my "Project Manager" hat, tapping all my resources (awesome son, especially), mold remediation done, and maxing a credit card; three and one-half weeks later, this is what she looked like.

Elbow Room
Columbus, MS