Saturday Essay
Ripped at Curly’s Bar in 2001
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the drunken compendium of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty-five years ago the Sultan of Sot visited Curly’s Bar at 2013 W. Superior St. in Duluth and composed this article for the Sept. 19, 2001 edition of the Ripsaw newspaper. ]
OK, for anybody considering going to Curly’s, here are two very important things to consider: 1) It’s located right next to the infamous Seaway Hotel. 2) Everybody there thinks that I — I, Slim Goodbuzz, rum-slugging sleazoid boozehound extraordinaire — they think that I am a cop.
Anyway, I step into Curly’s on a Wednesday night, and everybody appears to be “gettin’ some,” and I don’t mean sex. I mean the clap. All of the West End skanks are out in full regalia. We got your curly-mulleted dopers, your hookers, your rock-bottom alcoholics, your perverts, your predators, your Yoshiko’s Sauna regulars, all of them. And me. (more…)
Duluth’s Little Libraries
Missing: Our Little Billy
Duluth’s little library boxes hold dangerous books. Our little Billy, age 10, noticed this the first time he peeked into the lil library, painted with starscapes, in the middle of our Central Hillside block. He opened the lil door to get a closer look at the books, which he assumed would be about stargazing and astronomy. Instead he found cosmic horror in the complete works of H.P. Lovecraft, including illustrated editions and graphic novels, with supplemental books of criticism and analysis, even a film section. The little library contained a cosmos.
After he consumed his fill he noticed the lil library on the next block. It was a plain pine box stocked with vintage pornographic woodcuts, volumes of them including Hokusai prints worth a fortune depicting copulation with sea creatures. We complained and the library box was removed leaving an empty post.
But the lil library scene in the walkable neighborhood was “lit” as our little Billy put it. He found one constructed with movable panels and shelves that changed the library design according to whim. It held the inscrutable works of the revolutionary Guy Debord and his apologists, with the subversive roman-à-clef novellas of Michèle Bernstein, and rare books by the architect Constant, lavishly illustrated with plans for post-capitalist sky-cities of perfect freedom. Even some books devoted to armed rebellion: The Anarchist Cookbook and its descendants, including the novel The Monkey Wrench Gang which is actually a manifesto with practical recipes for good trouble. They were way above our little Billy’s reading ability but he stepped up, processing the bizarre information. By the end of the summer, our little Billy was reading at a college level. (more…)
Ripped at the Palace Bar in 2006
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the drunken compendium of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty years ago the Sultan of Sot visited the Palace Bar at 1108 Tower Ave. in Superior and composed this article for the Aug. 28, 2006 edition of the Transistor. The Palace Theater was demolished two months after the article was published. The Palace Bar, more recently known as Alyce’s Palace, surrendered its licenses to serve alcohol in June 2026.]
Years ago, when I was still cutting my beer teeth, the Phallus was my favorite place to get my drink on. Pitchers of Killian’s went for three bucks, pool was practically free, and a dollar got you five songs on the jukebox. All of this meant I could get myself half in the bag, shoot two rounds of billiards, listen to “God of Thunder” by Kiss five times in a row, and still have ten bucks of plasma money left over to spend on Limplifter strippers and Smack Ramen noodles. For a young man wandering Tower Avenue in Superior in the late 1990s, this was the stuff dreams were made of. (more…)
Any Given Day
It was Wednesday, July 15. The Minnesota Pollution Control Agency issued an alert that the air-quality index in Duluth was 1,134. Heavy wildfire smoke from northern Minnesota and Canada set a new pollution record for the state. It was nearly four times the standard “hazardous” level of 300.
Two days prior, the Duluth News Tribune published an article describing how climate change is driving the heat wave. Reporter Jimmy Lovrien wrote: “Conditions along Minnesota’s border with Ontario, Canada, where multiple wildfires are burning, saw highs top 100 degrees Monday, which is occurring at least five times more frequently than in a world without human-caused carbon pollution, Climate Central said. The rest of Northeastern Minnesota saw temperatures Monday that were two to four times as likely to occur due to climate change.”
And then on Aug. 6, Lovrien wrote another piece titled “Nearly all of Northeastern Minnesota in severe drought,” where he reported that the latest U.S. Drought Monitor Map showed about 90% of Minnesota is experiencing some level of drought, with Northeastern Minnesota and Duluth in severe drought. There was also a concern that this dry condition could go into the fall and lengthen the wildfire season. (more…)
Public Good or Pay Me
I was about five years old when I had my tonsils out. My mom gave me ice cream, but I still felt pain. My mom went to the public library in Gorham, New Hampshire and got me a book. It was a collection of every single Peanuts comic strip up to that point. I read page after page and my throat didn’t hurt. That’s probably why I still read every single comic strip in every edition of my Duluth News Tribune.
My dad’s career in the U.S. Forest Service took us all around the country. My parents recently told me that they tried to pick a house in each town that was near the library. We moved from Gorham to Two Harbors, Minnesota and then to two towns in Michigan: Harrisville and Cadillac. We then moved to Plymouth, New Hampshire, where my sister and I graduated from high school. In all those towns, I walked and rode my bike to the library. I became a reader and eventually, a writer. So, you can blame a tonsillectomy and public libraries for what you’re reading here.
My wife and I recently drove by the library in Two Harbors on the way back from looking at some waterfalls. Bright letters spell out “Carnegie Library” on the building. Andrew Carnegie was one of the richest Americans in history. But he gave away most of his wealth and built around 1,700 libraries all over the globe. There are about 3,000 libraries in the United States. Around half of them were built by Carnegie. (more…)
Ripped at the Head of the Lakes Fair in 2001
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the drunken compendium of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty-five years ago the Sultan of Sot visited the Head of the Lakes Fair in Superior and composed this article for the Aug. 8, 2001 edition of the Ripsaw newspaper.]
Let me just start out by saying that I think the Head of the Lakes Fair is a friggin’ wonderland. You walk into the place and the first thing you see is a table with the most pathetic crap for sale that you’ll ever find. We’re talking fake flowers with a flashlight inside, used Matchbox cars, Dalmatian-print cowboy hats and battery-operated toy cigarettes that glow at the end. A little farther down, you’ll find your Christian comic books, your black-velvet paintings and your turquoise jewelry. Just beyond that is the corn. This is everything I stand for. It’s beautiful. So, you’ll have to understand how difficult it is for me to ignore all of these temptations when I first get to the place. I’m a professional journalist, and I’m here for you, my people. And you, my people, are looking to be informed, and you’re only really interested in certain information after all. That in mind, I head straight for the beer. And the smash-up derby. (more…)
North Country Trail in Wisconsin: Brule-St. Croix Portage
There are hiking trails and there are historic hiking trails. The Brule-St. Croix Portage section of the North Country Trail in the Town of Solon Springs is peppered with historical markers in the form of eight stones with plaques bearing the names of explorers to the region. Most of them are easy to find; a couple of them are not.
Though there are eight stones, the digital map of the trail on northcountrytrail.org seems to show only seven, and if you aren’t careful looking at your map you could see fewer than that, depending on how collapsed your screen might be.
A brochure map of the Historic Portage Trail and Brule Bog Boardwalk also shows only seven stones, but provides descriptions of all eight “portage trail travelers.” Both maps fail to mark the George Stuntz Stone, perhaps because it had been lost for awhile.
For my part, at the start of my fall 2025 hike, I didn’t really know what I was getting into with regard to the significance of the stones. I saw them on the map and figured they would explain themselves. But they don’t. They are just stones with names and years on them. There is enough explanation, however, on plaques at either end of the portage to get at least the vague sense that the stones recognize non-native explorers who traversed the area in the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries. (more…)
Ripped at Bev’s Jook Joint in 2001
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the drunken compendium of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty-five years ago the Sultan of Sot visited Bev’s Jook Joint in Superior and composed this article for the June 27, 2001 edition of the Ripsaw newspaper. Bev’s Jook Joint ceased operation in 2014.]
Here’s something weird: The Puritan city of Duluth, which is almost three times the size of Superior, doesn’t have any gay bars. Well, there’s the Tap Room, but that’s not homosexual, that’s just gay.
Meanwhile there are several gay bars in the debauched, anything-goes city of Souptown: JT’s, the Main Club and Bev’s Jook Joint. Of the three, Bev’s is the only one that seems to be in denial of its gayness. That isn’t to say the place is full of closet queers; Bev’s just seems to have more of a mixed crowd than a gay crowd. A breeder can hang out and act blatantly straight without feeling like how RuPaul might feel at Northland Country Club. (more…)
Ripped on the Art Gallery Stroll in 2006
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the drunken compendium of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty years ago the Sultan of Sot took a tour of Downtown Duluth art galleries and composed this article for the June 5, 2001 edition of the Transistor.]
Let’s get one thing straight: I love art. I mean, there’s no greater art than getting drunk. So, with that in mind, I’m on my way to the Art Gallery Stroll — the first of five monthly, multi-gallery art receptions this summer in Duluth. Pop those corks, artsy-fartsies; I’m out to get completely, utterly and entirely fucking Brandenburged.
Art receptions, as any seasoned alcoholic knows, are the most abundant source of complimentary wine in the world. But this adventure is about more than saving money; it’s about improving my health. Instead of sitting on a stool in a smoky room and staring dumbly at myself in a Budweiser mirror behind a bar, tonight I’m going to air out my hemorrhoids by walking around and staring dumbly at, for example, a clay sculpture of a bear with a cup and saucer on his head. (more…)
Ripped at Some Dude’s Cancer Benefit in 2001
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the drunken compendium of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty-five years ago the Sultan of Sot paid a visit to the West Duluth American Legion and composed this article for the April 4, 2001 edition of the Ripsaw newspaper.]
So I pop into the American Legion last Saturday night and it smells like 1987. People definitely have their Brut by Fabregé on — at least the hoards of 35-year-olds who take up the bulk of the room do. But they’ve all brought their grannies and their kids, too, since everyone is here to help “offset medical expenses” for some dude named Dave who has been treated for the big C. And it’s obvious from the wall-to-wall people that this guy is a well-liked and respected member of the community, whoever he is. (more…)
The Fine China
My maternal grandmother purchased a nice set of porcelain dinnerware in 1953. That was back when ladies got all giddy over fine china. One of my grandmother’s sisters had the same set of dishes. Perhaps they were thinking they could lend each other matching teacups if either hosted a large gathering.
I’m certain my mother told me all the details related to the fine china numerous times over the years, but I didn’t really pay attention because she was talking about fine china and no one cares about fine china anymore.
Ten days before I was born, in 1972, my grandmother died. It’s a strange kind of grief for me to carry, because it comes with a sense that it began in utero. The idea of my mother’s sadness transferring to the fetal version of me is a little silly, of course, and probably manufactured entirely in my imagination, but still, my grandmother holds a heavy emotional sway with me for someone I never met. It is at least true that I entered the world into a family in mourning. Learning about it later is enough to make it a memory. When I see a photo of my grandmother or hear a story about her, it punches me in the gut because we came so close to meeting but never did. If a story about my grandmother involves fine china, however, my mind will wander because there are few things less interesting than fine china. (more…)
Every Day on Earth
Last month, I led a class at the University of Minnesota Duluth’s University for Seniors titled “The Pursuit of Better Possibilities.” We explored how all of us can lead more meaningful and resilient lives in our 60s and beyond. In the class, we talked about the importance and value of being creative and connected as well as discovering ways to simply be present and curious.
During the last session, I showed an interview with Dr. Jane Goodall on Netflix where she spent the last six minutes looking directly into the camera and shared her last message to the world. This interview was not aired until after her death. Goodall talked about how each of us has an important role to play on this planet and that our lives matter. She reminded us that we are part of the natural world and proposed that we can make a difference in addressing climate change and responding to the destruction of the biodiversity on the planet. She encouraged us to do everything possible to make the world a better place.
In that same session, I played a scene from the movie Patch Adams where the main character is standing before a medical review board defending himself and declaring his desire to become a doctor. When a member of the board addresses their concerns about his nontraditional approaches to helping patients and dealing with death, Patch states that death is not the enemy but that the most terrible disease of all is indifference. (more…)
Ripped at 21 North in 2006
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the drunken compendium of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty years ago the Sultan of Sot paid a visit to 21 North, a short-lived nightclub at 21 N. Fourth Ave. W. in the Duluth Athletic Club building, and composed this article for the March 13, 2006 edition of the Transistor. 21 North closed in April 2007, when the Tap Room moved out of the Fitger’s building into its space. Less than a year later, the Tap Room closed.]
The first thought I have as I walk into 21 North is that somehow, suddenly, I’ve managed to walk into a room full of the type of guys who shave their pubes. Please don’t misunderstand; everyone here is fully clothed. This is just a suspicion I have. We’re talking hairy stomachs, hairy legs and a big pink arc of smoothness around the genitals.
I order a $4 whiskey-Coke, and it’s amazing how weak it is. While I might complain about a lot in this town, one thing’s for certain: No matter where you go, you rarely get a weak pour. Why the hell would a bartender care how much booze you get? In fact, it’s in his best interest to get you hammered because drunk people are very loose and generous with their money. Luckily, I’ve developed a policy for places like this: First sip, then tip. (more…)
Mark Twain and Joseph Conrad Destroy a Duluth Hotel Suite
Introduction
Historic hotels worldwide falsely claim the globe-spanning author Joseph Conrad was a former guest. However, it should come as no surprise that, while struggling with the untitled manuscript that would become Heart of Darkness, Conrad stayed the winter of 1898-1899 in a top-floor suite of Duluth’s Spalding Hotel. It was a suite he destroyed with Mark Twain after the two writers met in the gilt-muraled hotel bar and things got out of hand. The incident might have been forgotten but for the young Duluth Herald reporter on the scene who wrote an article about it.
Conrad, 41, the Polish exile living in England, was stranded in Duluth because he’d missed the departure of his cruise ship. He’d dashed into town to get a tooth pulled and it simply took too long. He was going to catch the next steamer out, but the freighter Marchande wrecked at the mouth of the canal. Then winter arrived and shut down the shipping season anyway — and he was only interested in traveling by ship. So although he missed his wife of two years back in England, he decided to winter in the Spalding, dreaming up ideas for his manuscript, and hopefully, a title. (more…)
Ripped at the Red Lion in 2001
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the drunken compendium of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty-five years ago the Sultan of Sot paid a Valentine’s Day visit to the legendary Red Lion Bar in Duluth, and composed this article for the Feb. 21, 2001 edition of the Ripsaw newspaper. The ol’ “Roar by the Shore” closed in 2007 and is now the location of Zeitgeist Arts Café.]
So, it’s Valentine’s Day and here I am at one of my favorite watering holes, the Red Lion — the fucken Roar by the Shore. By all standards, this is not supposed to be the day to get ripped out of my godforsaken gourd. This is supposed to be the day to wear pink and purple, eat a whole helluva lot of candy and watch Richard Gere movies. I ask you this: Could there be a better day to puke your guts out?
The Red Lion is always awesome; it doesn’t matter if it’s full of pathetic drunks or young hip-ocrites slumming with Black Labels (the beer or the band). Either way, it’s full of my favorite folks on earth. Tonight it seems to be a good mixture of wasted middle-aged sots and good-looking lesbians: Yes, these are my people. (more…)
The Last Duckbilled Dinosaur in Duluth
Final entry in the field journal of UMD paleontologist Franklin Hall Moore, Sept. 1, 1984
The last duckbilled dinosaur in Duluth, down and out on the sand beach in the tropical climate of the late Cretaceous, feels drunk from the fermented newly-evolved berries of a now-extinct genus. Minnesota is closer to the equator, the constellations strange. He chases the scent of increasingly rare juicy ferns along the beach toward prehistoric Wisconsin.
The duckbill whips his tail against the harassing blue-feathered velociraptors trying to run him down like a pack of dogs. He’s ten feet tall at the hip but they see he’s got a small limp from a wound that won’t heal on his right foreleg. They also see the sore tumor on his tiger-striped orange back. So they’d separated him from his herd — over the hill in what will evolve into the mallscape of Hermantown — and chased him to this strip of sand, the border between a retreating lagoon and the forested rift valley that will become Lake Superior. (more…)
Beautiful Days
So many things are happening around our city and the country that are confusing, difficult to understand and often display a certain degree of ugliness about our world. There are more people on the streets who are homeless, mass shootings, a rise in Nazi and fascist groups, the East Wing of the White House has been torn down, and ICE agents continue threatening and arresting our neighbors.
And from around the world, we’re dealing with climate change, wars in such places as Gaza and the Ukraine, and pandemics.
In times like these, how do we create and embrace beauty? How can you and I uplift the beautiful spirit that flickers in all of us, even in those darkest moments? How do we represent our better angels and bring beauty to our city by the lake?
Maybe, it begins by asking a simple question. How do I stay human? In a world of angry rhetoric, divisive politics, impatience, noise, growing disparity, self-absorption, and isolation, how do I stay human? The first steps could be embracing our humility, a search for meaning beyond our personal lives, and the resilience to find a moral compass that guides and directs us. (more…)
The Most Read Saturday Essays of 2025
Perfect Duluth Day’s “Saturday Essay” series has now run for ten years. The second half of that decade has seen Jim Richardson dominate the annual list of most-read compositions. Since 2020, Google Analytics stats show Richardon’s essays have landed in 21 of the 25 top-five slots. Long live Lake Superior Aquaman! (more…)
Ripped at Tyomies in 2000
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the archive of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty-five years ago the Sultan of Sot paid a visit to Tyomies, 601 Tower Ave. in Superior, and composed this article for the Dec. 12, 2000 edition of the Ripsaw newspaper. Tyomies closed at some point prior to 2014, when Sweeden Sweets took over the space.]
This restroom is huge! And everything is squeaky clean, but already there’s a dude in here christening the place with a bleeeeeeeee yyyyyyyyyy aaaaaaaaa kkkkkkkkkkk. He’s paying homage to the porcelain god, and the porcelain god is shiny new and still has a sticker on it. When he finishes, he positively springs back up on his feet — happy as can be — then flushes and gives me a wink and a thumbs-up before heading out the door.
I love when a new bar opens in town. For one thing, there are usually a lot of drink specials to attract new clientele. Also, unlike in every other bar in this rat-ass city, no one there knows me, so the staff is usually pretty friendly to me. In addition to that, new places are usually pretty empty, so there’s little chance of someone there ruining my buzz for me. I try to hit a new bar a couple of times before all of you losers discover it and wreck the place by making me deal with you. (more…)
Become the Dark
It took me 25 years to acclimatize to Duluth, and the big hurdle was these long winter nights. Here’s how I did it.
One day I thought, as long as I’m hopelessly depressed and dysfunctional, maybe I should dig a crawlspace under my all-time low and sort of, you know, make it cozy in there?
Step one: Uncouple your mood from the weather, to the greatest extent possible.
This took me two decades to get the hang of, but it can be done. Duluth is going to give you some ass weather. Conversely, when Duluth is nice, it’s God’s country. But if you let Duluth’s ass weather get to you, you’re effed. It’s a bad place to be sensitive to gray days and one of the coldest, longest winters anywhere in the country, the world even. Duluth in February — when winter is more than half over! — may be compared to the ice moons of Jupiter. And then you might get a chilly summer. So, welcome to town, buckle up, get ahold of yourself, and appreciate the city for what it is besides the weather.
We’re so far north, the path of the sun weaves dramatically across the sky as the seasons progress. You can feel the wobble of the globe. Don’t let it dizzy you or give you motion sickness as the sun stays out a different number of minutes per day. We can have extreme and long winters, and short summers of varying quality. It’s not personal.
Ripped at the Saloon in 2000
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the archive of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty-five years ago the Sultan of Sot paid a visit to the Saloon, 1807 N. 11th St., in Superior, and composed this article for the Nov. 1, 2000 edition of the Ripsaw newspaper. The Saloon later became Temple Bar and then Mike’s Place.]
I was just about ready to sit down to a drink a six-pack of Old Peculiar, devour a carton of grade-D chop suey and watch the USA cable network movie, when it happened. Now, I’m no psychic, but I could feel — I just knew — someone in this town was giving away beer. You can’t just ignore a feeling like that. I stuck my untouched food and drink in the fridge, jammed a tape in the VCR to record the Addams Family double-feature and headed off into the night to seek my destiny.
I remembered that the Bayfront Blues Saloon had recently closed and reopened as, simply, the Saloon. The blues version of the saloon was always a mediocre experience waiting to happen, so I thought I’d check out the new and improved action. (more…)
The True Story of the 1963 Duluth Third Place Little League World Series Champions
The 1963 Little League World Series was played Aug. 24 in South Williamsport, Pennsylvania, at the Howard J. Lamade Stadium to 10,000 spectators. The series has since been given a cover story by the deep state, including the first-ever little league television footage, which was faked to keep America calm. The true story of the Duluth All-Stars is so explosive that it could not be told until now, more than half a century later.
A Midwest ring of Soviet spies developed a signaling mechanism invisible to the CIA, or so they thought. Eschewing radio and microfilm dead drops as vulnerable to interception, the Russians infiltrated the global little league ecosystem, and used manipulated game statistics to convey coded messages to agents in the field. One or two closet communist coaches in prime positions, a handful of greedy assistant coaches tactically placed, and a blackmailed umpire were enough to communicate covert instructions to sleeper assassins from Missouri to Manitoba, printed in every regional paper in the local sports stats. (more…)
North Country Trail in Wisconsin: Returning to the Border
During a group hike in spring 2024, I covered a new section of the North Country Trail in Wrenshall. At the time I didn’t think much about how my essay series is about the trail “in Wisconsin,” yet almost all of that hike was in Minnesota.
A few years ago, the Wisconsin section of the North Country Trail was all in Wisconsin, because it hadn’t been built yet near the Minnesota state line. The Minnesota side of the trail ended in the woods at the border, and the only way to start the trail at the Wisconsin side was to hike various highways to get to the parts of the trail that had been built.
Now that an official border route through the woods exists, however, the trail enters Wisconsin and runs for about a mile, slants over into Minnesota for about two miles, then swings back into Wisconsin.
There was a small part of that new section in Wrenshall I didn’t see on that group hike, because there was snow on the ground, groups move slower than individuals, and the rest of the group didn’t share my quest to cover every single bit of the trail. So I went back in the fall. (more…)
Mittens
This mitten thing started when I sent The Maker a message asking about scraps. Pretty sure it was sometime in 2022, which I’m also pretty sure was last year. He and I didn’t really know each other. I had admired his work for a while. Maybe we had already sold some bicycle parts back and forth. But maybe that came after. I know and I don’t. Time gets weird as it piles up and evaporates, and I am a partially reliable narrator at best about these and a lot of other things.
My message asked if his work, which includes cutting up wool blankets to make remarkably nice anoraks and jackets for winter expeditions, ever leaves him with leftovers. I was hoping he could give me a piece of fabric just big enough for patching a couple buttonholes and a pocket corner on a plaid wool shirt I’d worn ungently since paying $7 for it at Savers. He sent back something like, “I’ve got a couple garbage bags full. You can have it all if you want it.” I said I did without knowing why. My only use for wool scraps was fixing those small spots on that one shirt, and Ms. LaCount (my wife) and I try hard to minimize our clutter. (more…)
Ripped at the Pickwick in 2000
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the archive of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty-five years ago the Sultan of Sot paid a visit to Duluth’s venerable Pickwick, and composed this article for the Oct. 4, 2000 edition of the Ripsaw newspaper. The Pickwick’s bar underwent significant renovations in 2010 and now features televisions.]
Call me romantic, but when my special lady friend said she was growing tired of seedy dives, I decided to treat her to a classy night at the Pickwick, where the two of us could get ripped in style.
It shouldn’t really be that difficult to make a bar a comfortable place to imbibe, yet it’s surprising how many truly annoying bars there are in this area. The Pickwick has it just right: extremely dim lighting, dark wood paneling, good furniture, no neon beer lights, no tacky antique signs, no TVs. And even though the room is decorated with taxidermy, it’s as tasteful and interesting as taxidermy can be. The only things lacking are a good sound system and a room full of couches and armchairs. But since the bar serves mainly as an area for diners to wait for tables on busy nights, it’s extremely unlikely that the Pickwick will be booking live music or ordering La-Z-Boys anytime soon. (more…)