Hanging Out At Jasper's

In its 2010 Guide to American Bars, Playboy magazine named Jasper's Saloon of Lompoc as the sixth best dive bar in the country.  A dive bar, the article explained, is "a church for down-and-outers and those who romanticize them, a rare place where high and low rub elbows—bums and poets, thieves and slumming celebrities...a place that wears its history proudly.”

Jasper's has happily embraced the accolade, and it fits.The bar was founded in 1933, and although it has changed owners and locations more than once, there's a certain sense of continuity and tradition about it. Every vertical and horizontal surface is crammed with old photographs, signs, and memorabilia: 45s and LPs of American pop music, a mounted elk head, a saddle and farming tools, a jersey from a Jasper's baseball team, and a fish...just to name a few of its motley adornments. And this is the decluttered version.

"When I came here, I actually cleaned out a bunch of stuff and made room for people," says manager Stan Young, who's been in the bar industry for 34 years and at Jasper's for five.

Kam and I are here to glean information for our project about Lompoc bars. It's 11 a.m. on an ordinary weekday, and I expect the place to be empty, but there are at least a dozen patrons already sitting at the bar. In fact,  we could have shown up earlier: the place opens at 8 a.m.

"That's when the breakfast club comes in," explains Cheryl, as she wipes tables.

"Oh, so you serve breakfast here," I say ingenuously, but Cheryl only laughs. Originally from Montana and later Fontana, Cheryl says she used to be a bartender and she used to be a bouncer and now she sorta picks up the place and keeps an eye on things, "an early warning system" is how she describes her role.

We are introduced to a friendly customer named Larry, who was born and raised in Lompoc and lives in the neighborhood. His verdict on Jasper's: good bartenders, good drinks, and good local people. 

"A lot of celebrations of life happen here," he tells us, "and it's where we come to be together when someone passes away."

Another patron, Charlie, nods in agreement. "The City Council used to sit in here and conduct its business," he adds. 

By now I'm starting to think of Jasper's as a sort of town square, and I say so out loud.

"A town square with plenty of refreshments," says Larry. Folks in here have a wry sense of humor.

The unspoken truth is that if you are in a bar at 11 a.m., the drinks probably have something to do with it, and nobody is denying that fact.

But people speak about the place with touching sentiment and affection.  We relocate to the back patio area, where cigarette smoke diffuses into the overcast day, and two women, Georgette and Adrianne, join the conversation.

"You come here, you're comfortable," Adrianne says. "If you have a bad feeling and you're not doing well, there's always someone here to hug you and love on you. It's a mix of people, but they're all accepting. There's not a certain way to dance, not a certain music you have to play...you can just be."

Georgette's dad was in the Navy at Pt. Arguello, and she was born and raised in Lompoc. She's been a regular at Jasper's for years. "I come here because it's a second family for me," she says. "We do fundraisers for people in need. We make food, we have potlucks, we get together. This is my place, my family."

Charlie takes a drag on his Marlboro and waxes eloquent when I ask him what makes a good bartender: "It's somebody that actually cares about his clientele. When you're having a bad time, he's gonna take you to a place where you're kind of forgiven, and he's gonna hold you there...in a way, he's a psychologist, in a way he's a prophet. And it's important to find people that continue that same type of caring, that give as much as they take." He apparently finds them at Jasper's. He is a man in his element here, and happy to show us around.

Carlos comes out for some air and says hello to everyone. He wears sunglasses and a black cap, carries a cane, and has the demeanor of a gentleman. He first came to the area with the military in 1973, and stayed. Now he speaks to us like a Jasper's ambassador: "When I walked out here, I greeted you, I welcomed you. That's my way. And that's the spirit. You fall down here, there'll be someone to pick you up."

We go back inside and sit down with Stan, who gives us the rapid-fire version of the bar scene in Lompoc since his arrival from Seattle three decades earlier, including inexplicable changes in drink preferences (from bourbon to tequila to Irish whiskey, which is apparently the thing of the moment) and the regulatory restrictions, economic shifts, and business dynamics that render it hard to turn a profit.  

"Here it's all liquor. We don't serve food, and we can keep our prices low. We're not a high end bar, but we have all the basics, and we're still known as the place for a strong drink. That's what it means to get Jasperized."

I guess there's some Jasperization going on even as we speak.

"No one comes into a bar to grow up," Stan continues, reflecting on bars in general, and not just Jasper's. "And it's more like junior high than high school...it can be mean...but when it's fun, it's really fun."

I look around, and it does seem like people are having fun. The atmosphere has grown livelier. Someone has been choosing juke box tunes...country western, Mexican music, good ol' rock and roll...anything goes, and two friends are dancing.

A couple of men at the bar are riveted to a TV screen that's showing some sort of sports event which, judging by their intermittent shouts and exclamations, is nothing short of thrilling.I suppose you could scratch the surface and see hard times and hard core drinking. But the sense of community is also real, at least among these folks.

"I like people," says Stan. "That's what it takes. You gotta like people."

And maybe it's early afternoon, but it might be night time too.  There's a clock on the wall but no one is watching it.