Lotsa meaty meat … See DISH
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…Or veggies galore?
Mel’s has a custom system that allows diners to play the jukebox from a coin-operated machine at each table. Rick’s Dessert Diner boasts an old Seeburg Stereophonic jukebox that plays 45s—with titles by the likes of Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis and the Temptations—but it’s out of order. Many stops later, I finally find a working old analog jukebox, in the corner of the dark, downtown bar Pre-Flite Lounge: a neon-rainbow Seeburg that plays 45s. It’s about 3 p.m., and this dive bar is packed, the Seeburg belting out tunes from the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Patsy Cline, Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley. A pair of old regulars remembers that this juke has been here for approximately 35 years. Bar owner Jason Yee says he inherited the machine three years ago when he bought the business and doesn’t want to go digital anytime soon. “If we switch to a modern jukebox, it would take away from what the classic jukebox represents. People love the vintage sound of vinyl,” he says. The Seeburg plays two songs per quarter or 10 songs for a dollar, Yee explains, and he’s even traveled as far as Los Angeles to dig for 45s at record stores. Here at the Pre-Flight, No. 169 is the most-played song: It’s “The Pussy Cat Song” by Connie Vannett. On the side of the box, there’s an old sticker that reads “Dink Slavich, Southside Vending,” even though Yee says he’s slowly learning to perform regular maintenance on the machine himself.
See THE V WORD
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Wild art See COOLHUNTING
Jukebox heroes My jukebox journey isn’t complete, however: It dawns on me that Southside Vending must know about old—and new—jukeboxes. And so I drive to its small office in East Sacramento. Here, 72-year-old Don Slavich opens the door.
“If we switch to a modern jukebox, it would take away from what the classic jukebox represents. People love the vintage sound of vinyl.” Jason Yee owner Pre-Flite Lounge He leads me to a room full of CDs. They rest on shelves lining every wall and in stacks and boxes on the ground. Slavich used to organize the room, but he and his brother Ed, 75, are semiretired now—only dealing with a roster of select longtime clients. Don and Ed’s dad, Dominic “Dink” Slavich, started the company in 1947 as a cigarette-vending business. Nowadays, it doesn’t sell cigarettes. Rather, it rents out arcade machines, coin-operated pool tables and about 65 jukeboxes. Current manager Rod Bettencourt has worked there for 38
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See ASK JOEY
years and leads a team of five employees, not including the brothers Slavich. Southside’s garage is full of old videogames, such as Tekken 3 and Golden Tee, pool tables, and a dozen or so jukeboxes spanning multiple generations of technology—some play CDs, others 45s. Many of them still work and were returned years ago when the majority of their clients switched over to digital jukeboxes. So, did the digital changeover kill the jukebox scene? Not by a long shot, says Bettencourt. “Overall, the jukebox business is good. When we first started on the downloader jukeboxes, 80 percent was all [still] CD players, and we held off until the very end from using downloaders,” he says. “Downloading jukeboxes changed the industry [and] boosted our income up. They just offer so much [music choice] to the consumer.” Technology, says Bettencourt, is still reinventing jukeboxes and allowing them to do more exciting things. “They’re just making things that are bigger and with more features on them. There are jukeboxes that can have photo machines on them, karaoke—stuff like that [is] in the program for the jukebox industry.” In the end, I found that some people still prefer analog, and some prefer digital. Somehow, it’s this combination of old and new—and a wide cross section of unique individual tastes (like listening to hip-hop in a country bar)—that give the jukebox scene its livelihood. Ω
Southside Vending Inc.’s technician Eric Johnson checks out a lean, mean touch-screen machine.
Pre-Flite Lounge owner Jason Yee kicks it old school with the bar’s analog jukebox. BEFORE
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FRONTLINES
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FEATURE
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Liar, liar
Noises on See EIGHT GIGS
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Whiskey, wild There is no right or wrong answer, but perusing the Pour House’s menu of 133 whiskeys can be harrowing when you’re not sure what you like. Do you want a “whiskey” or a “whisky”? Kentucky or Canadian? The descriptions give some measure of what you’re in for but are still, ultimately, misleading. Do I really want something with a “long hot finish” or, more perplexing, “unbelievably chewy”? Once you’ve closed your eyes and pointed, there’s only one decision left: neat or on the rocks? If served neat (unmixed and unchilled) then God bless you. You win this round. On the rocks, by contrast, is the choice of a drinker looking for a mellower flavor experience over a longer period of time. Should this be your selection, the Pour House serves Next time, if you must your shot over a single large cube of chill, ask for one ice ice, introducing just enough water to cube, not three. accentuate flavor without swamping it, and giving you ample time to search out those notes of tobacco and spicy boot leather that prompted you to order it in the first place. On a recent night, I walk into the back bar to find all the seats are occupied by large men with laptops, staring up at the row of flat-screen TVs—apparently, it has something to do with fantasy football. The front of house is similarly populated. Beefy guys accompanied by well-heeled Brazilian blown-out dates circle like liquor-thirsty sharks, waiting for their turn at one of Pour House’s signature tables stocked with private taps. Normally, this is the sort of scene that makes you long for an earnest hipster, but the bar has Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA on tap, and one or two of these makes any crowd not just bearable, but totally enjoyable. A train rattles by, and I duck to take cover as a small stampede of dudes herald the bartenders’ cry of “Train shots!” Train shots, as it turns out, are the occasion that so many Pour Housers wait for: a sporadic $2 whiskey-shot special that’s enacted every time a train passes, teeth-rattlingly close. Seeing as it’s just Jack Daniel’s, it would be riotous to charge any more for it no matter what’s passed by, but this is not acknowledged. I skip the frat-house shots and take my chances with a glass of Four Roses Bourbon described in the Whiskey Library menu as “delicate and complex,” with notes of “vanilla, honey, and spice.” The flavor is indeed complex, but seems more befitting the descriptor: “lady’s ultradry deodorant.” The bartender sees my obvious struggle as I sip and offers to make it into an old fashioned, saving the drink and by proxy, my reputation as a drinker. With one last look through the extensive menu, I opt for a steamroller, a beer cocktail of Templeton Rye whiskey, St-Germaine, cherry liqueur, lemon juice, and Anchor Steam beer colorfully layered together in a tall, wide mason jar. It is a house specialty as sweet as it is sour and a tribute to the versatility of whiskey, no matter how you take it. –Julianna Boggs Throw one back at Pour House, 1910 Q Street; www.pourhouse sacramento.com.
STORY
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A RT S & C U LT U R E
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AFTER
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10. 04.12
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SN&R
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