If these barstools could talk

(They would probably say Happy New Year!)

by Bob Tis

 It has been a long time since I have been on the wrong side of the bar here on St. John.
In the mid-nineties I bartended at the Secret Garden Bar, a festive spot run by Albert’s son Robby and his wife Vicky, where the St. John Inn is now. It was great fun but most nights it was just my dad or my friend Art, who doesn’t drink, at the bar, so we didn’t stay open too long. Now I am behind the mahogany reef at Philomen’s “Cool Desires” spot, across from the National Park Visitors Center next to Phil’s Mexican restaurant. The view, for me, is perfect. Usually the drinkers get to look out at the water but here I get that timeless vista of the sun going down behind The Battery as the lights of St. Thomas twinkle in the gloaming.

Like many things on St. John this spot is historic, if only for the memories it has hatched in so many lives, here and afar. Many remember when a dreadlocked girl made a brief go of an Asian fusion restaurant on this spot. Jay, who owns the famous Columbo stand on Centerline Road scooped ice cream cones here 20 years ago, but bailed when construction debris kept falling from the second floor into his customer’s smoothies.

A guy came in for an ice cream in late November who cast a whole new historic light on the bar for me. Paul Boulon was the first guy to bring a landing barge, the infamous Pt’t Bleiu, to St. John. The equipment he would haul with that barge was used to build Centerline Road. He remembered when the mangroves across the street were filled in for the current ball field and eventually the Visitor Center. Boulon also remembered way back before the National Park when there was a Citgo gas station where I sit today.

Mr. Boulon hadn’t been on St. John for 25 years but was in town for a family reunion over at Trunk Bay. He described the homecoming ride on the ferry boat from Red Hook, making out the new buildings from a distance and his wife confirmed the look of surprise on his face when he glimpsed some of the changes. He wasn’t bitter, just surprised, and he commented on interesting things.

“Can you believe they have electricity on Jost?” he asked me with a smile. When Boulon helped build the dock and the Customs House on that small BVI outpost electric current was still decades away. Foxy didn’t get his first real ice machine until 1993.

Mr. Boulon remembered the people from back in the day; his neighbors were the Gibneys and the Oppenheimers, who he was fascinated with. He remembered Doris and Ivan, even Art.

His brief visit felt like someone came out of a time capsule for a strawberry ice cream cone. Another neat thing about this spot is that eventually everyone here on St. John seems to pass by on foot or by car, some floating by in brand new summer dresses on their way to dinner and others more intent on the beach. We witnessed a dramatic skateboard accident last month but nothing is more dangerous than Bright Green
Motorcycle Guy. This hot shot zooms his rice burner up and down the road every day or two at breakneck speeds. Last week he astonished my bar crowd by actually climbing out on the handlebars of his motorcycle while driving by.

From that precarious perch he reached back to throttle the bike to a screaming roar and like a shot from a cannon went by at what seemed like 60 mph on his handlebars.

If this spot could tell stories they would go on forever. Next door to me is the former home of Luscious Licks where Bonnie served me my first smoothie on St. John. This week I was honored to scoop up a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone for one-year-old Anais Craig. It was her first one. Many remember when Hermon Smith hung out here, under the big genip tree carving this and that for anyone who was interested. He must have been under that tree for more than a decade before people with real estate concerns moved him along to other locations. That seems like ages ago now.

And make no mistake about it, this isn’t a spot for locals to hang. Oh I get a few, but they are just being nice. The people can’t pay $4 for a beer or $8 for a fruity rum drink for too long, that’s crazy. Still there is something special about this spot and it reminds me that we all share a little bit in the ownership of St. John even if we just came for a moment and caught a nice sunset. We are all part of the collective history and while some are more vested than others we are all in it together and we get to make it up again and again, everyday, as we charge into each new year. Maybe it is an island thing, but I find a great solace sitting here on this perch watching one day turn into the next, watching everyone go by, bound for the future, with every breath they take, making history every day. Some, in such a very beautiful way.