≈In 1976, the year the Horse Brass Pub in Portland, Oregon opened, I was living in the city and working for the Music Millennium on Burnside. I met Don Younger, the pub's owner, through the crew at the Millennium and all of us were some of Don's first customers.
My then wife and I were regulars. We had season tickets to the Timbers and the Horse Brass was a pre - and post-game stop. The Horse Brass was just beginning, but the seeds of the traditional "local" were already sown. We all helped turn it into the place where "everybody knew your name" long before that TV bar.
The reason I write this remembrance is that today is my second son's 33rd birthday. On April 2nd, the day he was born in 1978, the Horse Brass played a central role in my being just seconds late to witness his birth.
I had a part time job at KINK-FM as the weekend evening host. On Sundays, I hosted the Music Millennium sponsored, "Other Worlds of Music" and on Saturday nights I hosted the regular KINK soft rock and jazz programming from 7 pm to midnight. It was April Fools night, a Saturday, and the shift was humming along, playing good music while I made an amateur's stab at being the next Bob Marx.
KINK used automation during those days and part of the gig was taping messages that would run through the next day. It meant that during your shift, while the music played, you would load a big freakin' tape machine with industrial size 8 track cassettes full of promos and weather reports.
At around 11:15 pm or so, the phone rang. It was the station's private line, so I knew it was someone to answer. Saying hello, I was told by our next door neighbor that my wife had gone into labor with our second child. She was on the way to the hospital with my wife and I should get there ASAP.
Like I said, this was my second child, and based on my experience with the first, I guessed I had a few hours before the imminent arrival. My first son, Devin, was a late arrival. He was two weeks overdue and took a long time entering the world the day he arrived. So I thought I could finish the board shift, throw a few tapes in the machine and get on my way to welcome #2 into the world. Which is just what I did; I left the studio, got in my car and headed for the delivery room.
I appreciate you staying with me, because you have reached the point in this ramble where the Horse Brass comes into play. To get to the hospital, I had to drive east on Belmont, which took me right past the Horse Brass. As it was after midnight on an early Sunday morning, there was a space right in front to park, so I pulled right in for a quick pint of Guinness. Remember, I thought I had plenty of time before show time at the delivery room, so I walked in and ordered one of Arthur's finest.
Now my remembrances are hazy, and anyone in their teens and twenties living in Portland in the mid 70's knows why memories would be, but I wouldn't be surprised if Don himself didn't draw that pint. We probably bantered about the upcoming event and who was in the bar that past night. As I promised myself, I had the one and headed for the hospital.
As you probably have guessed, but wouldn't you know it, the little guy was in a hurry to get on with his life. As I was just about to open the swinging doors to the maternity ward, I saw my wife being wheeled out of the delivery room through the door's window. Matthew had arrived without my being there. He was named after my wife's brother AND the late Mike O'Brien from the Millennium. Because of those two guys, we realized we had never met a guy named Matt that my wife and I didn't like.
It still holds true. Matt has grown up to be a fine man, a good friend and a wonderful son who has made his Dad proud.
I write this to the Horse Brass, not to blame them for my tardiness to my son's birth. No, that's all on me. I just wanted you to know that once a year, at least, for the last 33 years, I think of the bar and the birthday story and the other good times that I had there. I am happy to know that, like Matt and Devin (who was born the year the pub was), The Horse Brass is still going strong.
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