BRADLY J. BONER
Get Out Tonight! Silver Dollar Bar Best night to go: Tuesday (Bluegrass Night) Location: In the Wort Hotel one block west of the Town Square Music starts: 7:30 p.m. Don’t miss: See the 2,032 1921 Morgan silver dollars embedded in the bar Crowd: Many locals and lots of tourists, too Million Dollar Cowboy Bar Best night to go: Friday or Saturday (more locals on Friday); Thursday if you need a lesson Location: Town Square Music starts: 9 p.m. (lessons Thursday 7 p.m.) Don’t miss: Sip a drink while sitting on a saddle barstool Crowd: Mostly tourists Stagecoach Bar Best night to go: Sunday Location: On Highway 22 at the base of Teton Pass in Wilson Music starts: 6 p.m. Don’t miss: Dance to the famous “Roll Down the Line” song Crowd: Mostly locals 126
JACKSON HOLE MAGAZINE WINTER 2014
pants, tortoise shell glasses, and a newsboy hat—throws down make-love-notwar dance moves, thinking he is impressing a woman young enough to be his granddaughter. She dances three feet from him and avoids eye contact. Deb is whirling her skirt again tonight. Eighty-something Claire is here, too. (It’s funny, everyone knows Claire, but no one knows his last name or how to find him away from the dance floor.) Dressed in Wranglers and a western shirt and ball cap, Claire thrills every woman he dances with because he looks like everybody’s grandpa and can keep the beat. One after another, tourists work up the nerve to dance. Once on the floor, they remain. And wouldn’t you know, here comes Ralph. As usual, he favors the young and beautiful, drawing them close and dipping them at the end of every song. The big surprise tonight is an appearance from Ted Benson, maybe the mostappreciated male country dancer in Jackson. Only fifty-one, Ted was nearly killed by cancer. It ripped him away from dancing until a bone marrow transplant gave him a fighter’s chance. After each song, he wipes his forehead and leans against the railing. His presence makes
Tuesday night is Bluegrass Night at the Silver Dollar Bar in the Wort Hotel in downtown Jackson.
the Cowboy Bar seem whole again. Off he goes, a bowling ball of a man gliding across the floor. A few tourists ask him to dance, and he obliges even the beginners. Ted doesn’t last long, though. The clock ticks on, and the band shifts from country music to rock. Locals abdicate the place to tourists, who stream onto the floor gyrating and twerking. Music and alcohol lubricate the party until closing time. DEREK THE DYNAMO rakes his electric guitar while Phil Round leans into the microphone: “The road goes on forever, and the party never ends!” Having played at the Stagecoach Bar every Sunday night since 1969, The Stagecoach Band is overheating this concrete-floored box at the base of Teton Pass in Wilson. The temperature outside lingers near zero and the windows stand open, but the dancers are dripping sweat. Every type of person in the valley is here: cowboys real and fake, skiers and snowboarders, snowmobilers, hippies, and corporate magnates. The crowd’s age averages fifty or so. A middle-aged guy wearing khakis like Jungle Jack Hanna dances with a Janis Joplin lookalike. Beyond caring what people think,