An auction is a peculiar thing, both tense and a little bit tragic, the meeting of the most straightforward kind of commerce and nostalgia. At an auction at a bar, every toast of celebration, every drink of solace, every party, and every wake seems somehow present. The J & M Cafe and Cardroom has been in Pioneer Square so long that at the recent auction there, ghosts of Gold Rush miners fought for space with frat boys past, everybody laughing and breaking glasses and vomiting and leaving to (or not to) get laid. The place was only fairly grimy, and the bar smell—Lysol plus everything it is meant to disinfect and deodorize still distinctly palpable underneath—had dissipated from months of emptiness, replaced with a minor dank.
Along the bar was Lot 7, a graveyard of fun: on one end, a box of plastic Mardi Gras beads, then, marshaled in rows, beer pitchers, assorted stemware, silverware, ceramic mugs, plastic stands with happy-hour flyers still in them, cocktail shakers, speed-pourers, motley shot glasses, highball glasses, schooners, pints, big steins, carafes.
The morning light illuminated Lot 14A—the stained-glass windows across the front of the building—as it was sold, making the sun itself a commodity. The stained glass went for $1,200, subject to the approval of the Seattle Historical Society. The buyer was a woman with long dark hair; she bid silently, an assistant with a highlighted auction catalog by her side, buying up ornately carved mahogany back bars ($70,000 and $30,000), the trade name "J & M Cafe and Card Room" ($5,000), the six antique light fixtures ($650 each), and more. Lot 13, Portrait of Nude Woman, also went to the dark-haired woman for $2,500. It is a terrible painting, the reclining nude's face looking carved and mannish, the reclined-on surface looking like unwholesome whipped topping. But the dark-haired woman was intent on keeping the J & M intact. As the Seattle Times reported, she is (improbably) named Skye Belline, and she represents Evergreen Bank, one of the bankrupt bar operator's creditors. She said later by phone that she hopes a new lessee will purchase the name and antiques from Evergreen, then bring the J & M back to life. So far, three Seattle-area bars have indicated interest in buying the mahogany bars; no one has yet come forth to save this piece of history in its entirety.
The building's owner, Jack Buttnick, wouldn't speak of the space's fate. (His refusal to comment was tendered in the most courtly way.) Overhead, the dirty, beautiful pressed-tin ceiling sagged as the auctioneer joked and cajoled and sold pretty much everything under it. A present-day scent wafted through, and he said, "Somebody's smoking a cigar here." "It's history," someone in the crowd replied. There was a pause, then the auctioneer said, "It'd be nice if you smoked that outside, sir, so we don't have to smoke it with you."