If you love the Roanoke, the Notice of Proposed Land Use Action on
the corner of its block comes as a terrible shock. But never fear: “The
construction’ll go to about three feet outside our house—I mean,
wall,” Dennis the bartender says. His slip of the tongue is an
understandable one, as the ‘Noke has been home away from home to many
since 1980 (and before that, in various drinking-establishment
incarnations, since around 1935).
On a recent night, the staff’s red-and-white stockings are still
hung without particular care behind the beer taps. The potbellied
stove glows through the slits of its eyes; firewood is supplied by
customers with downed trees or access to job-site scraps. The big
heater suspended in one corner—”that hairdryer,” Dennis
says—stays quiet, and the place is toasty. In better weather,
there’s ping-pong in the backyard.
The Roanoke is also known as the Chia Pet, in honor of its
exterior coat of ivy. From the inside looking out, each window has an
extra frame of encroaching twigs and leaves; it’s dim and friendly and
worn, like a tree house with drinks and pinball. Three TVs show three
kinds of sports, with related announcements and exhortations often
featured on the outside reader board (interspersed with various
congratulations—on birthdays, coupledom, babies—and, once
in a long while, a heart-wrenchingly terse RIP). The front door bears a
directive to neighborhood teams to leave muddy footwear
elsewhere, and the back room has photos through the years of those
teams. In the men’s room: some retro, sporty, good-natured photography
of the NSFW variety. In the women’s: vintage Life magazine
covers (Faye Dunaway, “The pocket calculator craze,” etc.).
Every man on the premises save Dennis wears a ball cap, visors
oriented forward. There’s disgusted discussion of the proliferation of
bowl games (“too fucking many of them”) and the virtues or lack
thereof of cement mixers (the drink, not the heavy machinery). It’s
entirely possible to ignore the TVs, as two women drinking beer and
talking by one of the hobbity windows do.
One weekday afternoon a long time ago, I was drinking beer at the
Roanoke, unemployed. I got to talking to a friend of a friend, who
turned out to be one of the owners, and by the time I left I had a job
as a cook in the Roanoke’s tiny kitchen. I had no experience. This is
the kind of thing that happens at the Roanoke. The menu seems exactly
the same—sandwiches, burgers, nachos—but the food is
surprisingly good. The embroidered names on the stockings are
unfamiliar, but Dennis knows Tom, the barkeep way bar when. “You’ll
find nothing much has changed around here,” he says, at our house. 
Roanoke Park Place, 2409 10th Ave E, 324-5882
I used to live a block away from the Roanoke, and I still miss it. It was charming and good-natured and had really tasty burgers. Sigh…
This is my neighborhood bar. I watched the election results there. I never thought I’d have so much affection for what is essentially a sports bar, but it’s worth noting that it’s the kind of sports bar frequented by people who play sports, not just people who watch sports.
The ivy that covers the building came from my parents home in Tacoma, transplanted back in 1981. When I had an ownership, we used to bake oysters (from Mutual Fish) over that little pot bellied stove, until they popped open from the heat and then a little tabasco and butter on top. The place smelled like the beach with clams and mussells steaming on the Wolf Range (purchased used for $400). It was the first place to send back a keg of one of the first microbrew beers “Red Hook” because it smelled like bananas. We were right in doing so, but at the time Paul Shipman wasn’t too happy about it. he was the delivery guy at the time. I still love going there and playing Beer Pong out the back with my office mates and clients. RPPT has a huge list of alumni…maybe a reunion is in order?
Happy memories from the ‘Noke’. Yes, the ivy DID come from our house in Old Town Tacoma. Guess I’m puzzled as one of the comments seems to indicate that it’ll be closed. Say it isn’t so! That little kitchen turned out some great stuff and included our first domestic model Cuisanart. How did IT get there? When Tammy sold her share, we were able to get two art pieces before she legt: one was a lithograph of the Frisko Freeze and the other, a watermelon collage. Alas, the Freeze pic was damaged beyond restoration but the watermelon piece is still extant at Tam’s Coast house.
I took several Boeing foreign airline students as well as some Aussie visitors and they all thought it was the U.S equivalent of a ‘real’ pub.
Ah. happy memories and if you can judge a good bar by its beery smell (and the stale cigarette smoke) this is definitely a great bar.
Hope it stays forever. Hmmm, maybe they’d let me scatter my ashes on the floor?
Boggabri Bill,
who now in the Old Pueblo where the only equivalent bar is in the Congress Hotel.
Chekitout, mate.
This is my neighborhood pub as well. It’s the greatest little spot with great peeps and great vibes. Dennis is the greatest bartender i have ever known-kind of reminds me of how a bartender would have been back in the early 1900’s. He gets it. I just randomly came across this story at work today which is ironic as I still have a slight hangover from Wednesday nite tacos and pbr’s.
Mike M
We own the Roanoke – thanks for the kind words. Just to be clear, NO! We are not closing! We plan to be around many more years, though the construction (if it ever happens) will surely be a challenge! Hope you’ll keep on coming in!
Jeff & Chris
P.S. For you Facebookers, become a fan of the Roanoke…search under pages for “Roanoke Park Place”…
Eep! I hope I didn’t make it seem like it was closing, or had intentions to. I just live somewhere else now and can’t make it over like I used to, and I miss it.