Wrong Door – for Fandango’s Story Starter #177

Of all the gin joints in Portland, we had to pick that one! Pauli’s Blue Anchor. Down in the depths of the Old Port, near where the massacre had taken place in settlement days. Yeah, I know; the Old Port is all cleaned up these days. But back then, it was old ship chandleries and sail lofts closed since the days of the Downeasters. Even the Blue Anchor was thinking of moving.

But there we were, crowded around a tiny table as near the door as I could find. I was drunk, not stupid. The Blue Anchor could have occupied a squad car on its own every Friday and Saturday.

Then, of course, our friend Vernon had to get into trouble. On his way back from the restroom, Vernon, regrettably, opened the wrong door. In the little side room beyond was the never-ending floating poker game. Vernon had about three too many and stood there dumbly, taking it in before stupidly saying, “Hey! It’s a freakin’ poker game! What the …” He never finished. A chair came flying at him. Drunk, he forgot to duck. The barroom erupted. We grabbed Vernon, still trying to express his wonder about the poker game. We then went out the door, only to find that the brawl had followed us. The safe thing would have been to head up to Congress Street, but we could see Portland’s finest coming down the street, so we went towards the waterfront.

By this time, it was four AM, and we decided to head over to Becky’s for an early breakfast. Becky’s nowadays is the darling of tourists, but back in the day, it was where the fishermen headed for breakfast. It was full, so we got whatever we could for takeout and filled Vernon with coffee. Vernon was all for heading back and finding out what the ante would be for the game. We tried to explain to him that he’d broken up the game. He got loud, and then we realized that some of the poker players had had the same idea as we had and started to look meaningfully at us, especially Vernon.

We smiled, they pulled switchblades, and we started running. We ran along Fore Street and lost them at the old stove factory. Around this point, a patrol car stopped. One of the guys from the poker game made us out to the fuzz. Before you knew it, they hustled us down to the police station.

We spent a lot of time explaining to the officer at the desk it had all been an accident caused by Vernon, regrettably opening the wrong door.

Luckily, they believed us. By 8 AM, we settled into the Pancake House on Congress Street. We sat there eating breakfast and looking at the front page of the Portland Press Herald. The front page featured a big picture taken at the lock-up of everyone who’d been rounded up. The headline read, “High-stakes Poker At Blue Anchor.”

The Blue Anchor lost its liquor license for a few months. Then, the official attention prompted the health department to inspect the kitchen. I was barred and did not return for about eight years. But poor Vernon, it wasn’t good. While the bar was closed, they renovated the kitchen and restrooms. I heard that they put a large blow-up photo of Vernon by the door and another by the bar. It read: Vernon T. Rowland, Banned for Life. They then named the men’s room after Vernon – Vern’s John with an unflattering picture of Vernon.

Now, as you probably know, all the Blue Anchors pretty much look the same. Sawdust was on the floor for the “accidents”, and the same sort of wall decor. In terms of food, you can go right if you stick with the fish and crisps. Just never order the beans and franks – you can never tell how long the darned things have been on the back of the grill. And for all I know that poker game is still going on in that side room.

But I know the darned poster hangs in every Blue Anchor from Anchorage to Saint Lucie’s. 

Vernon’s mugshot and what he did have been the subject of television magazine segments, podcasts, and TikTok videos. The poor guy cannot catch a break. So if you run into Vernon, try not to snicker too loudly, tell him to avoid the side door, or shout out, “Vernon T. Rowland, Banned For Life!”

Just snicker quietly and tell the boys in the back room to lock the door.