2008-7-25 05:11:00
by Ted Dewey
It had been a long day for Henry Bower; also, a very profitable one. One that he would long remember.
He had taken Thomas to a motel on Gurley Street. Next door to the place was a restaurant and bar. Here, he would be quite comfortable.
Then he went to the bank on Gurley and Cortez. There he deposited most of the money. However, the fat wallet that he carried was lined with one hundred dollar bills.
This money seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket. He left the bank and headed for Whiskey Row and the Western Bar. Julie, his girl friend, worked there.
This famous street which was called Whiskey Row was the first block of South Montezuma, located just across the street from the courthouse and jail.
This busy place had been rightfully named. From the Saint Michael's Hotel on the corner to the end of the blocks there were numerous bars selling whiskey and beer.
Each of these places seemed to attract a different class of people. The Western, where Julie worked, was usually filled with retired people. Many of them senior citizens.
Henry opened the door and stepped inside the place. There were some empty stools down to the far end of the bar. He walked down to them and sat down.
There were two women pouring drinks. The one down at this end was a shapely middle-aged, dark-haired woman. She was wearing a red shirt and levis.
The woman's big brown eyes sparkled as she stepped up in front of Henry. "What will you have, lover?"
"A bottle of Bud, Julie. And give everyone in the place what ever they are drinking." Henry laid a hundred dollar bill on the counter. Julie picked it up and stared at it for a moment.
"Where in the world did you get this?" she asked. "It is not pay day yet, for a few days."
"That's just a bill I happened to have left over," he grinned.
Julie laid the hundred dollars in front of Henry. She smiled, showing her dimples. "Look sweetie, I just cashed a couple of checks. I don't have enough change in my till to break this."
Henry grinned. "Then ring up the whole darn thing, and pour until it is all gone."
Julie leaned over in front of Henry, and sniffed. "Lover boy, are you drunk or just plain crazy?"
Henry was enjoying himself. He pushed the bill out into the center of the bar. "Then pour until fifty is gone. Then put the rest in your pocket. Does that sound better?"
Julie picked up the bill and looked it over carefully.
"What did you do, Henry. Sell the farm?"
"No. And there is plenty more where that one came from. Now are you going to pour or do I go somewhere down the street?"
"I'll take you up an your last proposition." The lady turned around and went to work.
And so for the next hour or so, Henry was the most popular man on Whiskey Row.
As he sat there drinking his beer, his mind wondered back to bygone days. Many a time be had come in here with only the price of a couple of drinks in his pocket, and just a dollar or so in his bank account. He couldn't quench his own thirst, let alone treat anyone else. But these people here were his friends. Many a time they had come to the rescue.
And Julie, just a few minutes ago, she had tried to protect his interest. She attempted to keep him from squandering that hundred dollar bill.
Henry's third bottle of beer had just gone dry. He was feeling great. Everyone in here was his friend. He leaned back on his stool, opened his mouth, and yelled -- Timber!"
-- End Of Chapter Seven --
Copyright © 2008 by JJ Dewey, All Rights Reserved