Last Call for Patrons of Old Saloon in San Juan

There was a time when the San Juan Saloon was a rollicking bar and bordello, a way station for hard-living cowboys who herded cattle during the week and rode into town for a weekend on the town.

With a hitching post and faded plank signs outside, the saloon survived over the years as a workingman’s watering hole as growth and urbanization changed so much around it.

But time, and progress, finally caught up with the dark, musty beer parlor located just off the railroad tracks and a stone’s throw from the historic San Juan Mission.

On Saturday, the horseback saddles and branding irons and faded pictures of cowboys and their mounts were taken off the walls and sold to loyal customers who gathered one last time to bid the old place a final farewell.

In the end, the 1932-vintage saloon became a victim of the same progress that has turned so much of the once rolling farmland and verdant foothills of South Orange County into a series of freeway off-ramps and residential communities. City officials, eager to spruce up the town’s image, bought the saloon and ordered it closed.

In its place will be installed an upscale restaurant, more in tune with the new multiscreen movie theater across the street and the million-dollar redevelopment that has taken hold in downtown San Juan.

The saloon’s last official day open was April 23. But the loyal customers came by Saturday to drink a few rounds on the house, recall old times and purchase a few keepsakes from the old bar that had withstood progress for so long.

“This is the closing of an era,” said Donna Timney, the bar’s owner. “It’s the oldest liquor bar in San Juan.”

Ownership of the bar and restaurant changed hands several times, going under various names--Nick’s Palace, The Watering Hole and Mexico Lindo--before it became the Donales San Juan Saloon, Timney said. But it always attracted an eclectic mix of fun-seeking rowdies, businessmen, bikers and those drawn to the bar’s offbeat appeal.

“It was a place that looked like you had to fight your way in and fight your way out,” said Joe Oliver, 62, of San Clemente. “But once you came in, it was a congenial group.” In an age of posh bars that cater to yuppies who want to be seen, the San Juan Saloon became an anachronism with sawdust-covered floors, country-western music, pool aficionados and dart throwers.

The bar opened at 6 a.m. and served coffee to those who boarded the Amtrak train at the adjacent depot to commute into Los Angeles. Other workers frequented it in the evenings.

And during the day on weekends, a circle of foreigners fast became friends. They sat around a large circular table, singing folk songs and discussing everything from politics to giant carrots.

“They called us the knights of the round table,” said Jack Wareing, 60, who moved to Orange County from England in 1963. “They also called us the United Nations because we had some English, some Irish and one German.”

He lamented the place’s closing.

“It’s a shame,” said Wareing, quaffing an ale. “We should all be wearing black today.”

But people were hardly mourning. Saturday was the last day for the bar, and they were enjoying the camaraderie, yarn-spinning and free drinks.

Rick Myler of Long Beach relished his newly purchased mounted “jackalope” head. A creature of folklore, the jackalope is a jack rabbit with antelope antlers. This one had been mounted on the wall next to the television.

“I’ve never seen a mounted jackalope before,” the 43-year-old marveled.

His wife was less enthused. “He’s not putting that in my house,” she said.

A former bartender sauntered over. “You know where those are from?” asked Shelly Dodsworth.

“Wyoming,” Myler said.

“Arizona,” she corrected him.

“Wyoming.”

“They breed in Arizona.”

“Oh. Then they go to Wyoming.”

One woman recalled getting slugged in the face at the bar. “This girl was arguing with one guy,” said Barbara Bradley, a local resident. “She went to punch the guy. He ducked and I got it right in the chin. That’s one thing I’ll never forget about this place.

“We had some good times here.”

Scott Perguson met his wife at the bar. “I asked this woman to share her darts with me one day, and we ended up sharing our lives together,” the 27-year-old said. “Now look what we got.”

He pointed to his curly-haired 3-year-old daughter, Holly. “She won’t meet her husband here.”

The bar was apparently not the type of place to meet a spouse in its early Western days. But it was a place to meet prostitutes in the rooms directly upstairs from the bar, Timney said.

“It was a well-kept secret,” Timney said. “Only the locals knew about it. Dads would bring their kids and let them play pool downstairs while they would go upstairs.”

The bar outgrew its reputed prostitution, but complaints of loud music and disorderly patrons persisted until the bar was purchased by the city.

“Progress is nice, I guess,” said Stan Gamette, who owned the building before selling it to the city. “But it ruins the Old West-type thing.”

With the San Juan Saloon closed, the Swallows Inn remains the most popular bar in town. It too is owned by the city and is part of a redevelopment district. But it is not known what the future holds for the Swallows.

“Where are the people going to go?” Myler asked. “They’ve been here for all their lives.”