Best Memories 

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This issue of City Weekly is our latest iteration of the Best of Utah, which for over three decades has been a reliable catalog and curator of Utah life. But there was Utah life before we came along, so I figure this is as good a time as any to fill in the gaps—well, the drinking and partying gaps anyway—with some of the bests that I encountered before City Weekly began chronicling them.

An easy place for me to start is at the Moonlight Gardens and those nights when Annie and the rest—the Best Bartenders to Ever Serve a Minor—traded their schooners of Coors beer for my newly minted 1972 dimes as I did high school homework.

The following year, and still a minor, I could afford a "Mooner" 50-cent quart of beer thanks to the Best Job Ever when I was hired out on the track gang in the Bingham Canyon Kennecott Copper Mine. Hard work, cold beer and pool balls clacking in the background. Nothing better.

When I turned 21, I took a bartending job at the bar where I was already hanging out. Club 39 was the mirror opposite of anything I'd ever known, and I'll always regard it as the Best Fancy Pants Bar Ever in Utah. It adjoined the Restaurant Minoa on the corner of 3900 South and 1100 East, which is now a parking lot for St. Mark's Hospital. Later iterations of it that people might remember include Oscar's, The Psychiatrist or One More Time Club.

When it reigned as Club 39, it was at its most eye-opening, gotta-be-seen-there, awesome best. Who couldn't fall in love with the mostly Vegas-like show bands that played there nightly? It was Oz to a hick like me. It's also the first place I saw a guy light a cigarette—that cost less than a nickel—with a $100 bill (about $550 in today's dollars).

At nearly the same time, on Highland Drive—where now sits A Bar Named Sue—the Widow McCoy's began writing its own legendary history. When Judy Foote opened up her club, she became—as far as I've ever known—Utah's first female club owner. It was a private club, of course, as that was the mode back then, and Judy ran a spectacular operation with lines out the door most nights.

I was one of her first bartenders, and I'm still stunned that you had to reserve a table not just for dinner, but for Friday lunch as well. So, Best Mentor to Help a Dumb Guy Start a Newspaper—and she did help me launch this newspaper—goes to Judy Foote.

While Widow McCoy's was the place where stars of the day like Neil Diamond, Joe Namath or Gary Busey could be spotted, out on Redwood Road, at the Westerner Club, a whole different kind of fun was going on. I still pop into the Westerner on occasion, since it's one of the last cowboys standing. It's where I became a pretty nifty country swing and two-step dancer, which served me well when I could no longer impress a woman by showing off a newly earned black eye. So, Best Legendary Utah Dance Club goes to The Westerner.

On the subject of best country music anything, the Best Band to Play Back in the Day, Any Genre was CowJazz—bar none. CowJazz set the bar for what a local band could become, with members later making careers in Nashville, Branson and as the backup band Western Underground for the late Chris LeDoux. They're still playing too, almost 50 years later—spot them every blue moon at A Bar Named Sue's Midvale location.

Speaking of, that BNS location was originally founded as The Sage Supper Club, yet another of my bartending checkmarks. The Sage is where I met my wife—on my one and only blind date—and was operated by the Best Club Owner Duo of George Boutsis and Reed James. If a guy couldn't find something to laugh about at the Sage, something was wrong with him. I'm leaving the laugh stories out since they implicate others.

It doesn't seem like the giant, multi-floor Club 90 on 90th South opened in the 1970s, but it did as a tiny shell of a place that soon became the Best Thing That Ever Happened to the Horny Women of Utah County, where they could escape for a night or boozy weekend. I poured drinks there—of course—and I miss my great buddies, founder and owner Mike Kampros and manager Randy Snyder, both now passed away. Club 90 advertised in every issue of this newspaper for over 25 years. That's a best, too.

State Street once boasted scores of taverns like Reggie's Rockin' R, The Crow's Nest and the Best Bar to Almost Certainly See a Fight In: The City Dump. Who remembers Utah's Best Club Frontman, George "Aggie"? That guy was something, dancing his pants off—literally at his annual birthday party—well into his 60s.

Thinking back, most of the action back then was not in Salt Lake City. Some places stood out though: Utah's Best This Isn't Utah Club—The Club Manhattan (now Quarters) operated by the Hatsis brothers, with its heavy Rat Pack vibe. Also, all those massive clubs owned by Ross Feraco and family—Utah's Best Music Clubs That Became Discos included Feraco's, The Watergate, The Iron Horse, Castile and the Black Bull.

If anyone can tell me where they were (one location is still pouring), I'll send them a $50 gift certificate. I'll double it if anyone can also name which one I schlepped drinks in.

Send answers (and comments) to the Best Slow and Messy Bartender at john@cityweekly.net.