This was the town bar at least in the mid 30s. Still there as Cheryl’s Cafe.
Idaho, back then had slot machines allowed only in a back room. Behind the bar is Old Abe. Venerable is on Abe’s tombstone out in Parkview, but most of my life in New Plymouth, Abe did not know his age, nor his last name. He came west at 9 with the Robinsons from Chicago. Actually they sent him ahead with a wagon and followed later. However, with Abe you wouldn’t know as he changed the story often.
Behind the bar is Abe, Noble Peacock, Shirley Peacock. In front from left: Glenn Darnall, Clair Remington, Walt Harris, Herman Sattgast, John Driscoll, Shorty Lytle, Art Barker.
In the 30s and 40s, the bar was like a town billboard where you leave notes for folks. Most everyone is working all day hours, few had phones, so if you needed workers or whatever, you went to the bar in the evening — which would, of course, be open — usually the only place in town open after 5 pm.
It was also the scene where a 35 year old neighbor — great guy actually, fell dead one day after barely getting outside. He lived east of us a mile. We did tractor work for him. His wife usually ran the place — all dairy. But this man had the DUI bug real bad, drunk himself into oblivion every night. However, his money came from beating his wife out of their creamery check every other week. But, she had enough, and the next time as he came in the door she was waiting with a crow bar and broke his leg. He never went back — and it was shortly after that, that he keeled over dead.
Peacock is gone, but the bar, and this very bar, is still there and looks the same. However the pool tables are gone and replaced with tables, it is now a small cafe.
This storefront was on west side of main next to the old Pacific building. It had a side entrance, go up stairs to two apartments over the bar.
When Doctor Davis first came to New Plymouth in 1935 he lived in the front apt and used it for his Drs office. When I was five in 1938, Dr Davis took my tonsils out in that apt on his kitchen table. I can still remember it. Davis did not yet have a nurse to assist him. So he had my dad hold a funnel with cotton balls in it over my nose — and dripped ether into it. I remember him telling my dad to keep his own nose away from the funnel! This was before he moved his office across the street to the Day building, and built his nice home out on West Blvd.
Later on in 1947, Mr White, the high school principal and my boxing coach, lived in this apt. He hosted a dinner for the team here. If buildings could tell stories, this one would have many!