!■ „ — - ^ Campus Notes by Brian Shellito - 1---- --—. — 1 f ■_ cowl on-moms sou re mot gonnia Sit in PROMT OF THE TUBE MMN TONIGHT fcRE l>O0 ? J ^ u 3 OWT 5RM> . THERE W\LL BE K LOT Of WOMEN THERE. VJWATS INTO r NO. ITS JU si >V0LI MAN ? TMKT THOSE 1 PONT GET \NOMEN NNUJL IT. HKViE VOU BE OUT TO MEET [_EUPPEDjX^]f GU^S ’ • • i .. . » > j juji v uu DEPRESSING \NUEN IN TAMS BM?E\M_LOE VJOMEN , 1 MslONT BE > eanuts without the shell. A place ike Harry’s would have to serve roasted peanuts. It just wouldn’t be the same without them. Harry’s Wonder Bar is a great f>lace to sit at a table and talk with riends over a Styrofoam cup of roasted peanuts and a beer. Harry’s can’t be labeled accord ing to its music. Basically, the bartender changes the radio sta tion to whatever suits himself or the customers. It’s more homey that way. And the television over the bar is homey, too - the recep tion is poor. And just remember, I larry’s is so small p>eople can look over your shoulder and sec what you are doing. “Hey, what arc you writing?” “Are you a critic? Write this jJflj down ...” - Cirelchen Boehr Barry’s I can’t help remembering what Barry’s Bar and Grill, 235 N. 9th St., used to be like, and the people who used to hang out there. Located directly across the street from The Lincoln Journal Star, it used to be a great little hole in the wall where the beer barely was discernible beneath the overpow ering aroma of printer’s ink. Barry’s used to be a place where folks who get their hands dirty for a living would go for a little liquid therapy. These were men who pee’d standing up, still wore Aqua Velva and drank their Coors from a can. but those guys don’t seem to be around anymore, or at least they won’t be found at Barry’s. 1 found that out when I went down to Barry’s with some of my old Journal pals a few nights ago. I was not in a particularly friendly mood, as I recall, but that was all right becau.se Barry’s was the per fect place to l>e drunk and angry. But no more. Barry’s used to be filled to the rafters with drunken, angry people, but when I walked in they were all gone And in their place, replaced just like “The Slcpford Wives,” were lots of happy people - people wearing business suits who were happy with their jobs and fraternity boys happy with their classes. They happily sipped away on imported beer and played air guitar to Tom Hetty. I had come to expect this sort of scene at other bars in Lincoln, but not a blue-collar haven like Barry’s, and there is nothing in the world more annoying than being around ’happy people when you want to be angry. In the corner, near the popcorn machine, I spotted my buddies. They were getting completely out of hand, spilling beer everywhere and generally wearing out their welcome. They wou Id have fit right in at the old Barry’s, but tonight they were tbrds in the proverbial punchbowl. The bartenders kept giving us these looks that made me wonder how long we would be staying. When 1 attempted to toast my long-haired friend with a flaming shot of some sort of alcohol, it all hit the fan. The booze spilled over my shot glass and onto my pal’s hand, setting it on fire. Although he yelped a little, he seemed to be all right as soon as we extinguished the blaze. No cause for a big fuss, I thought. But those around us fell that we were not only interfering their God-given right to be happy, but that we were a legitimate fire hazard as well. So we left, before things got too ugly. Left, never to return, at least no time soon. And so, I am in search of a new Barry’s, somewhere far away from the droves of terminally happy people. - John Payne O’Rourke’s It’s hard telling what you might find on any given night at O’Rourke’s Tavern, 1329 O St. People-wise, O’Rourke’s has its cliques, just as any other bar But this particular tavern seems to be a Mecca for the self-assumed hip genre of the city. And you had belter well know it. Other clientele may include the pool set -- those dedicated to monopolizing the pool tables and intimidating the novices. Unless you ’re one of the established at the establishment. 'Ihe funny thing about O’Rourke’s is that the farther you venture into the high-ceiling tunnel of a bar, the thicker the crowd grows, and the closer-knit its patrons become. Good things? Dark brew' on tap, a wood-carved bar top, the physi cal ambience of a New York-style pub and some of the best bath room scrawlings in the city. O’Rourke’s: For a good time, take a friend. - l.isa Stankus Royal Grove It’s big enough to hold all the other bars in Lincoln. There’s a pool out back. Women take their clothes off for fun. Men sneak mousse into the restrooms. Everybody bangs their respec tive heads. What else could you possibly want in a bar? The Royal Grove, 340 W. Corn husker Hwy., has been a part of Lincoln since Nebraska has oecn a state. Few people realize that back when Elvis and those buddy Holly guys were “inventing” rock ‘n’ roll, cover bands like Tight Fit and brass Kitten were playing the Grove to an elite crowd of metal mongers. Really, ma-a-a-an. Wednesday nights were a reli gion back then, too, for those strip per, er, amateur dance contest fanatics. If you want to witness a congre gating throng go wild while watch ing a fellow man or woman strip See GROVE on 9