Lawrence Godfrey German

A true story about my dad. Back in the 1990’s, for some reason, my Dad wanted to take me up to Seattle, Washington, to see where I was born.  Of course, we can’t fly.  He wanted to drive the 1500 miles from Albuquerque, through Utah, where he grew up, and up into the Northwest.  Mostly, he wanted to show me where he grew up between Salt Lake City and Ogden, Utah.   We drove all day, the first day, and we had brought snacks for the trip.  Dad didn’t want to stop for lunch, but instead, he had promised me a steak and a beer for dinner in Utah.  He kept driving, hour after hour, pointing out random things about different landmarks.  “Your uncle came to this town to buy his first motorcycle,” he’d say, or “that’s where your mother and I got our first puppy dog, named Jaques Phideaux, which we tried to spell with a French spelling.”  As the towns passed, so the hours were getting later and later. Now in Utah, they had different liquor laws.  First of all, they didn’t have bars, they had “social clubs.”  Back then, you could really only get a beer two ways: at a liquor store, or at a social club, and you can’t order alcohol at a social club unless you are a member, or you're with a member --and you have to go through an application process to become a member.  Second, these social clubs close early... My dad made frequent trips back home to visit family, and beer figured prominently in any dinner with my uncles, so I figured that he would have several memberships in town.  As we passed Salt Lake City, it was 9pm --around the time that most Social Clubs closed.  Dad wanted to keep on going, another hour, “Don’t worry, I know a good place in Ogden.”   As we entered Ogden, close to 10pm, Dad slowed his driving, crawling through the city.  I kept thinking there was no way anyplace would be open after 10pm.  He was pointing out even more landmarks, “This is where your uncle and I used to shoot pool, the Trocadero.  We called it The Troc... That school has changed…  That’s where your mother went to school…  This car dealership didn’t used to be there… Then, bang.  He pulled into the mostly empty parking lot of a social club.  “I think I know a guy here,” he said.  As he locked the car, he kept on muttering about car dealerships and the way Ogden looked in the 1960’s. We stepped into the club, which was clearly closing up.  Almost all the chairs were up on the tables, the lights were shut off in some sections, a few staff were wiping down tables and putting away glasses.  There was one couple just finishing up in the corner.   A man in a black suit was standing at the host desk.  “Can I help you,” the host asked us.   My dad leaned and looked around.  I thought he was maybe looking around the club for someone he knew.  He straightened up and said, “well, we’re not members, but we’re friends of Bill Smith.” The host stepped back and said, “Bill Smith?”  He immediately grabbed some menus and walked us back to a section which had already been cleaned.  He took the chairs off the table, and turned on some extra lights around the area. “You don’t have to open up a section just for us,” I offered. “No, it’s no trouble, and you’ll like these seats much better…  Here are your menus, I’ll go tell the kitchen to stay open --and what can I bring you all to drink?”  said the host.  My dad announced that he had promised me a beer and a steak in Utah, and the host replied, “no problem, what kind of beer would you like?”  Dad ordered two of the house special.  “Right away,” said the host, “there’s no hurry, take your time” and he quickly headed off to the kitchen. I was shocked.  I couldn’t believe it, my dad came through on his promise.  I knew he grew up in Ogden, but I had no idea he knew some important people in town.  “Wow, dad,” I marvelled,” this is amazing.  Just one question, who is Bill Smith?” My dad let out a big yawn, leaned back and stretched, “I don’t know…”  he said, working a kink out of his back, “I saw his name on the car dealership outside.” True Story...