Lowbagger--Saint Patrick's in Missoula

Lowbagger.org

"A voice in the cyberspace wilderness." March 1, 2005

Saint Patty's At Saint Charlie's

By Josh Mahan

Life in the Red States is always a good St. Patrick’s Day party. But I’ll tell you, in Montana a lot of folks go to Butte. Fortunately here at World Headquarters we don’t have to succumb to such gas-guzzling traits. We’re located directly above Charlie B’s, the best party in the state, any night of the week. When you’re at Charlie’s there’s a 50-plus crowd, and a 25-minus crowd. They hang out in exact opposite spectrums of the bar. The east end, and the west end. This is why the youngsters never meet the famous Crumley. We only hear tales of his bravery from old guys like Roselle, who calls us Posers because a raft guide slept with his girlfriend in 1978 on a Salmon River trip. Whoever this woman is, I hope you understand the damage that you’ve done to an entire industry.

Tonight at Charlie’s an array of Lowbaggers munched down on a spread of corned beef and cabbage. The back alley served as extra kitchen space, as the cramped Dino Café (touted by some as the best restaurant in Montana) wouldn’t do for the fire-code capacity crowd. Even the pool tables were turned upon their sides to make more room for the corned-beef eating crowd. But like I said, we were on the young side of the bar, which never gets any respect. We had to keep jostling through the mob for our Guinness and Jameson. But somehow we got some work done. Mike had a pocket-sized Reporter’s pad, and was scribbling between sips of whiskey. After all we were covering the celebration.

All the Lowbaggers were there. Wayne-O, Gruver, Packer Bob, Heather, John, Twilly, Funschie, Marianne, Mike (and not Roselle, that’s a given). We were only missing the Doctor. A shot, or two, were toasted in his name.

We’ve been drinking and trying to come to grips with our egos. In the end, we decided that egos were much like dogs. Bring them into the bar, leave them by the door, but let your buddy’s feed them. In the end, we would like to utilize the web to let you into the party a Charlie B’s. If you’re a High Roller, you might even be able to book a flight in time for closing time for the St. Patty’s party.

Here’s one more thing that Roselle may have not told Counter Punch, Charlie’s is full of women. But, guys like Roselle seem to not notice them, for the most part. However, sometimes I see the old cowboy from the glory days of The Rancher in Jackson Hole’s hay day. Of course, a buckaroo of that magnitude would never let a drunkard take the hand of a lady. And, I saw Roselle lay some shit on a Poser who had better connections with a woman that Roselle fancied. It took me back to the legends that defined Roselle, all told to me by my step-father Howie. If we could only tell them all.

For now we’re trying to prove that it’s better to never burn out, and never fade away. Here are some pictures from Charlie’s. Enjoy!