Pub on the block: The 'Cheers' of Beacon Hill faces pandemic challenges

Everyone has a story. That was the mantra as KUOW reporters set out to chronicle the lives of people who live and work on a small block in Seattle’s Beacon Hill neighborhood in the time of Covid-19. Read all the stories at covidontheblock.com.

Inside a one-story building on Beacon Hill, built in 1926, is a bar where customers consider each other family.

“It kind of makes me tear up, because Tippe and Drague is where our family comes to be part of an extended family on Beacon Hill,” one customer says.

“Everyone arrives as they are with their own flaws. It’s like a forced family, in a good way,” says another.

This makeshift family is weathering the pandemic together. But the familiar ground is shifting under them, in ways some of the regulars are only beginning to understand.

On a hot night in July, some of their loyal customers hung out at tables on the back patio. They ate, masks off.

They were far from each other, but that didn't stop them from carrying on a big, loud conversation.

“This is Covid socializing! You’re shouting at each other across the room!”

“Yeah, there’s no such thing as a side conversation.”

“It’s like sitting at the bar! But we’re all far away!”

Owners Robert McConaughy and Melissa Cabal opened this restaurant eight years ago.

On this night, they flitted in and out, carrying plates of food and drinks.

Customers shared stories about the cook (Brian) who loves to put funny messages on the sandwich toothpicks that say things like “not poisoned.”

At one point, Cabal joined the patio conversation to tell a crazy story about a local raccoon that thinks it’s a dog.

It all seemed joyous. I was there, too, taking it all in.

And then I asked Cabal a question.

What has been the low point, now that we’re about six months into this pandemic? Was it when they were closed, or when they were only doing takeout?

“Actually, the low point is right now, I would say” Cabal said.

“When we first started off, we had everybody file for unemployment, so everyone was covered,” she continued.

“And then, Robert and I were working, and our customers were very supportive. Like these guys right over here, are in all the time, right? And we need those folks, and they have basically been the people keeping us alive.”

A federal loan covered payroll and rent for a while, but now that’s gone. Trying to make this work has worn them down. Business is about 25 percent of what it used to be.

Cabal said she considers it a good night if she brings in enough money to cover payroll.

“And now people are really weary about coming out for food, and I think now, because of the increased number of Covid cases again, we’re like back at the beginning.”

And customers, too, are making tough calculations as they decide whether to venture back into the restaurant scene.

Dawud Jackson nurses mixed feelings about being here as he drinks his beer and eats his chips. “I’m here trying to support this business because I like it, so that they can survive,” he said. But at the same time, visiting restaurants – puts restaurant workers at greater risk of exposure. That weighs on him.

“Yes, it feels safe for me to be out here in this relatively unpopulated patio, to have a beverage and help support them. And it feels good to do that. But also, it’s kind of like, I don’t know if that’s the right way to go about it.”

The owners, Cabal and McConaughy, are life partners, as well as business partners.

They have been thinking about where they’re at in life, now that they’re in their 50s. And what they want next.

Sometimes at the end of a hard day’s work, McConaughy and Cabal sit back and compare what they’ve built – to where they are financially. “We’re barely pushing middle class, for how we work,” said McConaughy, “and you go to other places, and a bar owner, tavern owner, restaurant owner, is pretty firmly middle class. So it’s kind of frustrating that way.”

So frustrating that they’ve decided to leave Seattle.

“I mean, our goal is maybe – two months… to be out of here. We’ve been to Cleveland twice, checking out the houses there.”

The Cleveland-Detroit area offers better living at an affordable price, McConaughy said.

They had toyed with the idea for a year. But they didn’t act on it – until the pandemic gave them time to stop and think. Then, the decision came suddenly.

"Literally, like a week before we said, ‘Should we move to Detroit?’ we were like, talking about building a deck on the front of our house to have a nice view of the sunset,” McConaughy said. They said forget the new deck and put their house on the market.

This is what the pandemic is doing, to so many people. It’s given us a moment to reflect on our lives, and what we want.

Cabal and McConaughy want to be closer to relatives.

McConaughy wants to design board games for a living. Cabal wants more time off work to follow baseball teams around.

Meanwhile, the regulars are still absorbing the news that the owners are leaving and selling the joint.

Ali Leeds and Scott Adams overheard Robert tell me about it.

They wondered what it would mean for them, and their weekly visits to this place.

“We’ll have to see who the new owners are, or what happens to the place,” Leeds said. I told them the new owner would be the guy inside pouring drinks at the bar.

Leeds was pleased. “Weiber? Oh, well, that’ll be cool.”

Adams agreed. “Wow, that’s awesome for him. That really makes me happy. That’s great.” “Well, then I think we’ll keep coming here,” Leeds said.