Marina Re-opens on Shady Street: What would Cap'n Pat say?

The "Mariner"

We miss Old Cap'n Pat. He was a cantankerous crusty old fart, but he was curiously lovable and always interesting. When he "owned" the Marina Bar & Grill on Shady Street it was a seedy, grimey dump that probably violated every health, building and safety code the stateys have come up with. Heck, even dogs roamed the kitchen ("Dogs can't read the 'No Dogs Allowed' signs" said Capt. Pat). But despite the ramshackle lean-too architecture and shower curtain tree wraps, the place had a pirate feel and really good blue-cheese burgers. It attracted large crowds for lunch and was a pretty cool place to watch the sunset and quaff a brew after pretending to work.

I was real interested to see for myself what the "New" Marina Bar & Grill (note no "e" on the end) would be like when I heard they reopened for lunch on Tuesday of this week. So I took a few of my minions to lunch on the bosses' dime Thursday and drove them past the rusty Sabel Steel yard, over the potholes and through the rows of shacks to the appropriately named Shady Street where the "Mariner" (as we locals call it) precariously sits on a bluff overlooking the Alabama River.

Appearances can be deceiving but appearances have improved. The new owner, Capt. John Bull (the harmonica player and riverboat captain) has cleaned up the place and gotten rid of most of the horrible furniture and dusty things hanging from the roof. (I may miss the permanently inflated puffer fish though). The tables and chairs looked like they had been purchased from a high class Chinese restaurant. The floors were clean and the outside patio on the west side had been finally completed. The deck had been cleaned up, the railing fortified and those ugly shower curtains removed. The place actually looked like it may have a chance to pass a health inspection without any threats or "bribes" from Capt. Pat. No dogs in the area. I am not sure Capt. Pat would approve of knuckling under to Big Brother, but the place does look nicer. There is no doubt about that.

The patio deck sans pooches.

But as Old Tojo might say: "Yin and Yang very powerful. Don't mess with Yin-Yang" What he means is: Where you improve in one area you may fall back in others. I am afraid to say that may be the case here, at least in the early stages of working out the kinks of a new operation.

Not that anything was bad. It was all tasty. But it was pure vanilla Gump lunch fare served on styrofoam plates with the kind of plastic forks and knives you have at picnics. Look at this picture of the blue cheeseburger.

Kinda plain looking isn't it?

Bacon was requested but, although it came with the club sandwhich, it could not be added to the burger. It was good but how badly can you screw up these ingredients? The old "Bleu" was much greasier and messier and thicker. It required a bib. No so much this tamer version.

I tried the ubiquitous hamburger steak. It was covered with gravy, mushrooms and onions and was a little thin but good nonetheless. It was served on a bed of bread which was somewhat unusual but I did not have to eat the bread so it did not interfere with my enjoyment of the protein.

Prices were comparable to other places but I have to say I have been spoiled at Lunde's where for the same price you can get cornbread, blackened pork loin and homecooked veggies with a little tang to them. The Marina is not the kind of place Chase N. Allpots or Whig in a Blanket would consider. Too sparse and basic. No tablecloths, no cutlery and no crockery. And I-your humble Cornbread Carp--could not find any cornbread and I am fairly certain no real butter was anywhere near.

There is one thing the Marina Bar & Grill has going for it that no other place can match: It is the only restaurant in the Gump actually on the river. You can eat and launch your boat at the Marina because it really is a working marina with gas pumps and a floating party room in the shape of a riverboat. If you can find it, it is somewhat of a destination restaurant.

So we at LITG are pulling for the new owners to make it at the Marina. We will visit again in a few weeks and see how they have improved. So what would Cap'n Pat say? "You spent too much time fixing up the place and not enough on the menu." But, he would say it with a sarcastic smile so you could not tell whether he was kidding and really proud. I think he would be proud.

See you down the river, Cap'n Pat

Lunch in the Gump mourns the loss of Richard T. "Cap'n Pat" Dozier, who passed away Wednesday at the age of 79.

Pat was an original, one of the great characters we are fast running out of here in the Gump. Owner of the Montgomery Marina and the benevolent king of our particular bend of the Alabama River, Pat spread more warmth and good humor through the decades than all of the ice cold beers ever consumed on his rickety deck.

This is just a blog, so there isn't room for all of the Pat Dozier stories that have made the rounds over the years. Some of these stories are God's honest truth. Others, like any Southern tale worth telling over and over, are mostly legend. Maybe somebody will compile them all into a big fine book one day.

I was never fortunate enough to be more than an acquaintance, but when I went to breakfast at the Farmer's Market I would sit close enough to eavesdrop on Pat and his cronies. If you ever needed to know the difference between mere friends and cronies, that was it. Man, to have been one of Cap'n Pat's cronies. That would have been something.  

Anyway, suffice to say that Cap'n Pat was kind, humorous and memorable... the sort of man you hate to see go, wish you had gotten to know better and won't ever forget. He was the arch-nemesis of the county health inspector and a man who saw the building code as a general guideline. Over the last few years the tenants have come and gone, but the stories will live forever. He provided us a place to watch the sun go down from upriver, surrounded by our friends, not really worried about much of anything.

Condolences to all of Pat's family and friends.

Picture of Cap'n Pat at the top is from the Advertiser.