Age: 59

Hometown: Brimfield, Massachusetts

Profession: Retired Stage Manager/TSA Agent

Drink of choice: Guinness

Bar of choice: The Continental

The four-way intersection of Saint John and Brighton Street in Portland can be a bit chaotic. Cars rush through from all angles, heading right or left or straight, maybe stopping at Punky’s for a breakfast sandwich, or visiting the Cat Doctor, or grabbing some Vietnamese groceries.

Poised quietly amidst the bustle is The Continental. Previously a 711 convenience store, The Continental is a British-style gastropub that serves this residential neighborhood with something refined and substantial — more than just a quick fix. Co-Owner Mike Barbuto (also of CBG and Nosh) can be found behind the bar almost daily, decked out in a campy Hawaiian shirt, armed with witty banter. There are no TVs in sight at the bar/restaurant, a decision on Mike’s part that speaks to his intention to make The Continental a place to chat, relax, and be comforted by delicious food and drinks. Saddle up to the gorgeous wooden bar, order a shepherd’s pie and a Guiness, and dig in to some good conversation, possibly with The Continental’s gregarious regular, Gretchen.

How did you find The Continental?

So, it used to be a 711 for a million years, and then it got all boarded up, and I’m like, “What are they gonna make?” One day, we were driving into town to do some errands, and the door was propped open. I was like, “We have to stop.” That’s when I ran into Mike and Grover, his dog. I asked, “What’s gonna happen here?” and Mike said “Oh, we’re gonna do this bar, it’s gonna be great.” Meanwhile, hello, like, 18 months later, they finally opened. I live right around here, so I get to walk to have a Guinness, and really there’s nothing better. We’ve never had a neighborhood bar here before, so it’s very exciting.

When do you typically visit The Continental?

I’m usually here in the evening. For a while, I was like the late-night gal, but I got old and tired. They do this Sunday Irish music, which is awesome, so I’m here every Sunday, but I don’t come quite as often as I used to. They were only open five days a week for the first six weeks or so, and I literally came every night, checked in with Mike, checked in on all the other guys. And so we had this running joke, you know, “Who’s gonna take a day off first?” And then finally, Mike said, “You know, starting in a couple weeks, we’re gonna go to seven days a week.” I was like, “All right, I’m out (laughs).” I’m not sure Mike’s ever taken a day off, though.

What are the other regulars like?

You know, it’s interesting. There are a lot of young guys that come in groups, which is fine. Wildly entertaining. A lot of people from the neighborhood — ”the walkers” — are regulars. I love the fact that there’s no television in here, which is huge. I mostly come here by myself, and you are able to meet people and talk about things. It’s kind of old fashioned in a way.

We heard you retired. What have you gotten up to since then?

I am retired from the federal government, I worked for TSA. Thank you, flipping God! Now, I dabble in all kinds of things. I make pottery. I’m launching a voiceover business. I wash dishes at a cooking school. I work for LL Bean on their events team. It all scratches a different itch. I get bored if I do the same thing for too long.

Tell us more about the voiceover business.

It’s kind of fallen to the bottom of my to-do list, but I gotta try to start doing some auditioning and whatnoting. I did a lot of training. I set up my little studio, and I’m ready to go. I just got my little website going. I just wanted to do something different, have something to learn. I was a stage manager for ten, twelve years. Lived in New York, did the whole thing, and it was great. I watched some of the actors that I worked with make big stacks of cash doing voice over. And I thought, “Oh, you know, maybe someday when I retire, I’ll do that.”

What theatre did you work for?

I worked all over because you end up getting a job with a particular show, and you’re not really, at a particular theater. I had a very small Broadway contract, and I also did a lot of off-Broadway work.That’s when you get hired to travel around to different theatres, like in New England.

Is that how you ended up in Maine?

I grew up in New England. My husband and I wanted to have a kid, and we didn’t want to do it in New York City. I didn’t think I could be a stage manager and a mom at the same time. I would always feel like, when I’m at the theater, I’m neglecting my child, and when I’m with my child, I feel like I’m neglecting my career. As a stage manager, you work easily 60–70 hours a week. It’s a lot. You’re in charge of everything, right? Which was fabulous, and I enjoyed it, but that was a chapter. We moved to Maine in 2001 into this fabulous little neighborhood. It took me twenty years to get a bar, but here we are!

We also heard that you raise chickens.

Yes, in the city of Portland, you can have six hens. I’ve been keeping chickens since 2012. They entertain me. Right now, it is prime egg-laying season, so I get four to six eggs a day out of my six girls.

Tell us about your pottery.

I throw things, and then I paint them and carve them and try to get people to buy them. It’s one of those things I always wanted to do. I did it kind of as a hobby. Then, after I retired, I started doing it more and selling it more. I’ve been selling at Thompson’s Point. There’s a few shops in town like Nash and Co. that have my things. I do all my firing at Portland Pottery so I have some things in their gallery as well. I mostly make mugs and vases but also bunnies, because, you know, you need bunnies.

Gretchen Knowlton was originally published in The Regulars on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Age: 78

Hometown: Detroit, Michigan

Profession: Retired

Drink of choice: Beer

Bar of choice: Dock Fore

When stumbling along the quaint yet hazardous cobblestones of Fore Street in Portland’s Old Port, you might see a group of rowdy old-timers congregating at Dock Fore. Chances are Portland legend “Wild” Bill Dawson will be among the rabble-rousers.

“I’ve known Bill since 1984,” said Dock Fore owner Sean McCarthy. “It’s kind of a double-edged sword with Bill. He’s got a hard shell but a heart of gold. He knows a lot of people because he’s been around forever and has become an institution in this city. He knows all the other regulars here. They all sit out front and bust balls, but if you’re not doing that, they don’t like you.”

How did you end up in Maine?

I moved here in 1980 from Vail, Colorado. I was doing construction. Customers of mine in Vail wanted me to build condos at the base of Pleasant Mountain, and that’s what brought me here. I met a local girl, we got married and just had our 40th anniversary. I met her at the old Dewey’s while she was visiting from Canada. Thirty-seven weekends later, we moved in together. I didn’t know anyone when I first moved here, but I met my core of friends at the Old Dewey’s because that’s the first bar I ever went to here.

Did you work in other industries aside from construction?

I’ve been in the bar and beer business. I had a brew pub, and I built Shipyard Brewery. In the 90’s, I had Harbor Homebrew Beer and Wine Supply. I owned it for nine years. The parties were legendary. I’d have weekly beer class, do a different batch of beer every week. I’m a good brewer. I mean, anybody can make beer, it’s not hocus pocus. Beer is poor man’s treasure. It’s a very social beverage, and it’s not just for breakfast anymore.

What brought you to Dock Fore?

The first place I lived and owned in Portland was at 150 Middle, right across from Videoport. This place in 1980 had the best burgers in town. This was a good neck of the woods. You see the cobblestone street? Do you know how many times I was drunk, twisted my ankle, and then was smart enough to walk on the twisted ankle again? You know what it’s like to have a double twist?

Why do you keep coming back?

I usually go out by myself, and I like to talk to people. I’ll talk about anything. Just the stupidity of voting for that asshole. I don’t argue with Trump supporters because imagine shovelling shit against the tide. They’re never going to get it. They’re blatantly ignorant, blatantly stupid. We can’t fix stupid, like Maine drivers.

Also, (Dock Fore owner) Sean’s a good guy. He can give as good as he takes. Sean and I can lock assholes.

What angers you the most about Donald Trump?

He’s a liar! He’s trying to play off the “peaceful demonstration” on January 6th, and you got these fucking stupid people and congressmen that will say, “This is a peaceful demonstration.” Oh, my fucking word! And Bobby Kennedy Jr.! I used to live on Cape Cod, and I knew Bobby Kennedy, and he was such a fucking heroin addict. It just defies definition. Everyone in Trump’s cabinet is a moron, stupid yes-men. God help this country. This is something really near to my heart because people just don’t get what he is doing. He’s taking away food stamps. Taking away education. This is the angriest I’ve ever been about politics. Why be a jerk? Why be an asshole? Why be a Republican?

Why are you called Wild Bill?

I’d love to find out. I’ve always gone where I wanted to go, do what I wanted to do, whatever I wanted to do, for as long as I wanted to do it.

What has been going on with you lately?

In December, I had congestive heart failure. I was near death, and I’m lucky to be alive. Seriously. I was in the hospital for 18 days, and you do not go to the hospital for food and rest. I owe my feet to the crew at Mercy Hospital Wound Clinic. Sean picked up the phone and called me while I was in the hospital because I hadn’t been (to Dock Fore) in so long. I know I’m going to go at some point, but I don’t want to leave (my wife) yet.

How do you want to spend the rest of your time on earth?

With a fishing rod in my hand.

The Regulars is sad to report the passing of Wild Bill in August of 2026.

“Wild” Bill Dawson was originally published in The Regulars on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Age: 74

Home State: Steep Falls, Maine

Profession: Music Booker

Drink of Choice: Miller High Life

On a frigid Friday evening in late January, the Regulars rolled into the Westbrook Memorial American Legion Post 197 to meet up with music booker and member of the Maine Country Music Hall of Fame Bucky Mitchell. Inside, classic rock tunes played at a low volume and TVs were showing college basketball as the bar filled up with Legionnaires, family members, and friends. Groups of men and women were sitting at round tables, playing cards and scratching lottery tickets. The walls were covered with plaques and flags and pictures, each paying respectful tribute to area veterans.

In the spacious back room, a four-piece band was setting up, a band that Bucky had booked as the night’s entertainment. As the band tuned their guitars and checked their microphones, the Regulars ordered a round of Miller High Lifes and sat down with Bucky to talk about country music, his long career as an entertainment booker, and why the Legion is such an important place in the community. We could have talked for hours, but, unfortunately, Bucky could only be with us for a short time. Once he was sure the back-room band was ready to go, he had to race across town to Lenny’s to check on another band he had booked that night.

How long have you been coming to the Legion?

I’ve been booking the music here at the Legion on Friday nights since about 2017. The Legion was kind of in a desperate situation at the time, and they asked me if I could come over and help them. I was already booking music at Lenny’s on the other side of town in Westbrook, so they knew that I knew a lot of music acts. It just kind of developed. Now, I have about 50 acts that I’m booking here at the American Legion and at Lenny’s and at other places. A lot of the bands want to play for the veterans. So, all the time, I’m asking, “Hey guys, can you go over to do a night for the veterans?” The veterans don’t have a lot of money as some of the clubs do, and they’re not as big as some of the clubs, but we’ve had so many top-name and great bands come in. Some of them play for half price. Some will donate it back. It’s wonderful.

How did you get into the booking business?

I learned about booking while I was playing drums on the road. I started working for Dick Curless, who was a Maine country music singer who sang truck driving songs. He sang a song about the Haynesville Woods here in Maine called “A Tombstone Every Mile.” It became a hit, and he was signed to Capitol Records. I was 20 years old, and he hired me to be his drummer. After a few months of playing with Dick, I ended up going to him and I said, “Gee, is there some other way I can make some money in music? Maybe I could book some shows to get us some more gigs or to make more money, you know?” And Dick said, “Tell you what. You come up to Bangor Monday, and talk to my agent who’s up there.” Sleepy Willis is his name, and he’s now a Country Music Hall of Famer here in Maine. So, I went to Bangor and spent the day with Sleepy and kind of learned the ropes about booking. This was about 1971. After that, I opened my little Mitchell talent agency, and I started doing bookings. And by 1977 I was called by the John Penny agency in Massachusetts, and I worked for him for many years. I worked with clubs around Boston. I worked with “bottle clubs” — Five or six bucks to get in. Bring your own booze, enjoy the music, and dance all day.

What was it like to be a touring country musician?

I did quite a bit of touring. I spent four years with an Elvis impersonator from Wheeling, West Virginia. We would play Boston for two weeks, then we would go to Buffalo for two weeks, then we’d go to Port Huron, Michigan for two weeks. Then we’d go to Wheeling back to Boston, and then I’d come back to Maine, back home for a bit, and then we’d work in New England for a bit, and then we’d start the tour again. We’d also go up and down the East Coast and do shows. Eventually I got to meet up with the Hager Twins, who were on the Hee Haw show. I got to play drums for them, and we traveled all over. We would open shows for Roy Clark, and we played with Minnie Pearl and Grandpa Jones. We did a cruise for 10 days around the Caribbean. We left out of Miami, and I don’t know how many countries we went to on that trip. So, yeah, I’ve played all around. I’m a high mileage unit!

Do you still play the drums?

No, I finally retired. I had a heart attack five or six years ago, and that was the end of me lugging the drums around! Now, I’m pretty much just doing the booking thing, which keeps me in touch with all the musicians and all the folks around the music.

Why is it important for you to book bands at the Legion?

When I was eligible to go in the service, I was all signed up, and I expected I was going to Vietnam. But all of a sudden, they had this lottery thing, and my number came up too high, and they didn’t take me. So, I didn’t become a veteran, and I’ve always had the feeling that I wanted to be involved with the veterans because I appreciated so much what they did. Through my playing years, I played all the military places I could. I played Fort Dix. I played Fort Devens in Massachusetts. I played Hanscom Field. I played the Navy base in Boston. I played the Bangor NCO. I played in Brunswick at the Naval Air Station. I was always playing music for the people I love, although I never was a veteran. So, that’s what I’ve always loved about coming to the Legion. I feel like I’m kind of doing my duty, trying to return what I can. That’s my connection with these guys, and they’ve taken me in like family.

Bucky Mitchell was originally published in The Regulars on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Name: Thomas Marr

Age: 87

Hometown: Portland, Maine

Profession: Retired Fisherman

Drink of choice: Miller Lite

Bar of choice: Byers & Sons Long Island Bakehouse

If you’re one of the two hundred year round residents of Long Island in Casco Bay, there’s only one place to go in the off season if you want to see your neighbors. Seriously. One place. That place is Byers and Sons Long Island Bakehouse.

Catlin Byers, whose family has been on Long Island since 1904, purchased the building in 2020 and transformed it into a lively community space, keeping it open even during the long, cold winter months. With large windows looking out onto the water, The Bakehouse offers a limited (but tasty) menu, plenty of beer and wine, and one regular everyone wants to talk to.

“Tommy has been here forever. He and his late wife started the Changing Tide Foundation, which supports the islands- they’re just amazing people,” exclaimed Catlin. “He’s a character- a salty old fisherman, but also so artistic.”

How long have you lived on Long Island?

I first hit the island in the ’50s. I married my wife from this island. We lived here off and on for years. I fished here for quite a while, and then I got out of fishing. I ended up with Casco Bay lines and then on tugboats for 14 years so we had to move back to the mainland. My wife’s folks still lived here. In ’86, I got back into fishing so we moved back here full time into her parents’ house. I still got the house today.

What do you like most about living here?

I love it here. We’re one big family. This island’s like a big house with 200 plus rooms in it, and people living in it and looking after each other. I think it’s a rarity today. Even the other islands aren’t quite like us. We’re getting more out-of-staters. They buy in, and the houses are getting big. Whether they understand island living, I have no clue, but some have integrated very well. Some, you gotta keep working on them.

How did you become a regular at The Bakehouse?

We never had anything like this in the winter before. This used to be a store, so it opened for gas, and the people who owned it before did the same thing. It was open only so many hours a week or so, but they had nothing going on. Thank God for Catlin. She’s really got something going on here. It’s open Tuesdays and Friday nights so we come up here and we socialize. It gets you out of the house and over that cold winter. It’s the best thing that has happened for the winter. Once in a while, I’ll play cribbage with somebody. In summertime, I try to keep my schedule still Tuesdays and Fridays, because in summertime it’s busy with people coming off boats.

Tell us more about your days as a fisherman.

I was a lobster fisherman. I’m done. I’ve just sold my boat this winter. I went big time ’til eight years ago, and I sold the big boat to my helper, and I got a small boat. I’ve been doing that during the summers for the past seven, eight years. This past year, it wasn’t working out and that was enough to say “Time for me to get out of there.” I still like rowing and fishing with rods, though.

How did you decide to become a fisherman?

My family’s from down east, South Port Island near Boothbay Harbor. I remember summers down there, and I remember when I was five years old, my father was going out to get some lobsters. I’ll never forget this, he says, “We’re going to haul traps, but just make sure we take the small ones.” Which is illegal of course! I grew up on Munjoy Hill and at ten years old, I built myself a lobster trap out of an orange crate and at 13 or 14 I started lobstering with a friend. That’s all it took. I’ve been doing it for the past 46 years full time. I’ve had a good career, and I’ve actually enjoyed my life, so I can’t complain.

What are you up to now that you’re retired?

I was thinking about building myself a rowboat in my garage, and, when I was cleaning things up in there, I found a book about carvings, like miniatures. So, I started fooling around with it, and, to this day, I’ve done over 350 carvings. I mostly do miniature ducks and birds, but now I’m getting into fish. I did it for nothing, and people starting telling me that I should sell them. People call me to order them, and I sell them out of my house. Some of the wood I have to buy but oftentimes people will drop off nice pieces of driftwood for me to use. Caitlin bought a half dozen of my carvings, and some are here at the Bakehouse.

Also, we have a writer’s club on the island, which is another talent I didn’t know I had. I’m writing a novel — almost done with it — but we have seven great writers in the club, and three of them are getting published. My novel is about a tugboat going down the coast of Maine, just what I know, right? I’m on the last chapter, and I’m trying to review it. If it’s worth publishing, fine. If not, I can say that I finished a novel.

What got you into writing?

One Christmas Eve, I went out to haul traps in. Two o’clock in the afternoon. Beautiful, calm day, sunny, cold, a flat cap, no wind. I was five miles out and my engine quit, and my CB didn’t work. I started sculling for Hussie Sound hoping a ferry would see me. It’s a long, slow process. There wasn’t a boat in sight. I decided I wasn’t going to make it to the Sound but I did have a summer mooring here on the back side of the island, even though I didn’t have a skiff to go ashore with I’d at least be in safe refuge. Around eight o’clock and after about four or five snow squalls I started sculling again and the tide pushed me to the backshore. There were no lights, and it was supposed to get down to zero degrees that night. I’d freeze to death. I dropped anchor and there was one little light that I could see so I took a shot. I had some gas in a bucket and got a nice flair going and that light flickered. Ah, they saw me! I sat down next to my cold engine box, had a cold beer and a candy bar and waited to be rescued. Next thing I know, the whole harbor lit up. Everyone on the island knew I was lost. Everyone thought I was gone. So, after that story, I survived, as I’m here. A few years later a magazine had a writing contest about things that happen at sea. I wrote my story, sent it in. I won third prize, got 75 bucks for it. I said, well, “I’m a published author now,” and that’s what led me to keep on doing it.

What’s next for Tommy Marr?

I’m 87. I feel good. I just went to the eye doctor yesterday, 20/20 vision. So, I’m going for the big one. They got this place booked for my hundredth birthday! I said, ”I think that’s pushing it but that’s ok, I’ll try.” I think God still has plans for me.

Tommy Marr was originally published in The Regulars on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Age: 35

Hometown: Dover-Foxcroft, Maine

Profession: Entrepreneur

Drink of choice: Boozy Cold Brew

The wharf upon which the King’s Head Pub was built sits on top of the refuse and debris created when the forces of King George III shelled and burned Portland (then Falmouth) in 1775. Today, a portrait of King George looks down from the pub’s sign, his smug, self-satisfied face presenting a sharp contrast to the cheery, welcoming faces you’ll find inside.

The King’s Head Pub looks a lot like a tavern you’ll find in many small English villages. The pub’s dark, wooden interior is cozy, and the zig-zagging, wrap-around bar encourages patrons to engage with each other. The pub’s food is comforting and familiar, while the extensive beer menu covers traditional ales and lagers, along with multiple styles from around Maine and around the world.

Like many pubs in the UK, King’s Head serves as a living shrine to its bar regulars. Plaques honoring the bar’s “Beer Club” members (who have drunk 100 different beers) line the walls, and the bar seats have plaques as well, each dedicated to “super regulars” who sit in the same spot. With its huge beer menu and range of patrons, King’s Head contains multitudes, as does their super friendly regular with the loud, gregarious laugh, PD Wappler.

“Our regulars are the heart of the bar,” said Andrea, a King’s Head bartender for the past three years. “PD brings really good energy. He’s willing to pitch in, and we value him a lot.”

When did you start coming to King’s Head?

About six or seven years ago. I saw that they had 35 taps or whatever in this huge wraparound bar. One of the first times I decided to come in on my own, I had a great time. I just kept to myself, and the bartender Lindsey (current GM) was nice. I ended up leaving my notebook when I left, and I didn’t realize it until I got home. I came back the next night, and they gave me the notebook back, and Lindsey had written a note that said, “Left behind. Nice guy, don’t throw out.” That was the beginning of me coming here as a regular. It just had all the things I wanted. It had an amazing beer list, nice people. The longer I came, the more I got to meet the other regulars. Now, I can’t bring a notebook in here because there’s no chance I’m gonna get any alone time to write.

What are the other regulars like?

It’s a lot of working waterfront folks and a couple of them dock right on this pier. In general, they’re sweet, sweet guys, fun. Sometimes when I bring people in here, they’re like, “Oh jeez, there’s a lot of rough-looking types in here.” But they’re like the sweetest people I’ve ever met. Lunchtime is just like a bunch of lawyers who work upstairs. Also lots and lots of tourists. It’s an interesting mix. It’s a good spot to send people because it’s a little bit off the beaten path, but not off of Commercial Street, so it’s not away from anything. The bar itself, I think, is the main feature of this place. The shape of the bar means that on a regular night — one that’s not crazy busy — it’s just a bunch of regulars dotted around, you don’t have to sit next to each other. You can talk to each other anywhere. You can see everyone everywhere that you’re sitting.

How has your relationship with the staff evolved over the years?

Some of them have turned into my really, really good friends. They’re wonderful and amazing people. Basically, with that bar, you’re in the center of the room, like you’re on a stage. You are performing and taking care of everyone all at once. It’s like 20 something seats at the bar, and if you’re not a good person, you can’t be behind that bar, especially because there’s so many regulars who come in every single day. If you’re not the type of person that cares about people, and you can’t remember people’s names, it’s probably not gonna work.

How long have you lived in Portland?

I’ve been in Portland for 15 years. I transferred to USM, and I just got an apartment in Portland, and that was pretty much it. I went to school for Philosophy, but then that morphed into Media Studies, which is like a branch off of Communications with a focus in film. I loved Portland so much that I never left.

Did you end up using your degree?

I actually started my own production company with three other friends that I graduated with. We mostly did nonprofit work for music programs and whatnot. I did some projects for 317 Main Street in Yarmouth, and then a small art studio called Side by Side right here in Portland. It was a cool little team and everyone had their own specialties. Once everyone else got jobs that paid way more than the projects that we were working on, everyone was like, “I don’t have time for this.” I finished the last projects on my own and closed up shop. I also ran a toy store for ten years, and I ran a brewery.

How did you get into brewing?

A friend brought me to Mama’s Crowbar on Munjoy Hill, which is where Munjoy Hill Tavern is now, and it was beer only, cash only. That bar is the reason why I like bars. That started me down the path. As I got to try more things, I was like, “Oh, you can do some pretty cool things with beer.” Craft beer was really starting to get its resurgence around that time, and so many breweries were starting to pop up. There were four or five in Portland at that time around 2011. There’s some beers that are really shitty, even though they’re the same style, like, “What the fuck is that?” So I started brewing. I had a roommate who was also really into beer and brewing. We just started upgrading our equipment and brewing as much as we could. Eventually he started working at Allagash, and within the first couple years of him working there they did employee home brew competitions, and we won one of them. So, that was really cool. I continued my beer journey, and tried all the different styles and read up on all the tasting notes and homebrew judge guides.

It just kind of kept going and going, and the beer scene here just kept exploding. It was at a time that, like, sometimes every single batch of a certain type of beer tasted a little bit different, and it was, like, kind of exciting to be like, what did they do differently now? Did they change their hops? Was this a mistake? If you’re hanging out with a bunch of other beer nerds, you’re all speculating. It was kind of like a community thing in itself, just getting into beer on its own.

How did you go from homebrewing to opening up a brewery?

After I got my taste of running a business with the toy store and then the production company, it was just something that I knew I could do, and if I could mix any of my other skills with it, it just seemed like a win-win scenario. I had always wanted to at least give it a shot, and was basically just waiting for the right person who was as ambitious as me and willing to take that type of risk and hopefully have even more skills that are going to help us be successful. And that’s kind of where I met Dante, who was my business partner for High Fidelity. He was a friend of a friend. We hit it off. We both like beer. We both brewed our own beer. Over seven years or so, we slowly picked away at shaping our ideal brewery.

Live music seems to be an important feature at High Fidelity. Are you also a musician?

I’m a lifelong musician. My mom started me on the piano when I was like five or something. From there, yeah, piano, cello, guitar, drums, bass, ukulele. Writing music was my passion, and like, even all through like, middle school and high school, I was doing my own little recordings. So, music’s always been really important to me. As I got busier and busier, music kind of became less of a priority for me, but I wanted to bring the music back in the brewery. That was really the space that we were trying to make, and I think we pretty much got it.

What are you up to these days?

I am in the process of launching my own bookkeeping firm. Since leaving the toy store, I have continued to do their books and payroll and be their tech guy and whatever. I realized through having to hire my own bookkeeper for the brewery that I don’t like how most bookkeepers operate, and people seem to like how I do it. I’m hoping by early next year, we’ll be launching and like taking on a bunch of new clients and hiring on some more bookkeeping contractors. I’m no longer involved at Hi Fidelity. I’m still playing music, though.

PD Wappler was originally published in The Regulars on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Age: 60

Hometown: Falmouth

Profession: Financial Services Analyst/Artist

Drink of choice: Vodka Seltzer, Whisper of Cran

“If you’re not a douchebag, you’re welcome at Ruski’s.”

Those are the words of Griffin Meara, a bartender at Ruski’s for 20 years. Meara is just one in a long line of Ruski’s employees who have been serving up big portions of unpretentious food, boozy beverages, and friendly banter to bikers, bankers, mailmen, service industry workers, Maine Med nurses, third-shift laborers, retirees, and police officers at this West End spot going back to 1892.

A true “neighborhood bar,” Ruski’s is a mainstay for the masses. The walls are covered in mismatched memorabilia, funky art, and signed celebrity headshots, and its sassy staff is always ready with a wisecrack or a word of advice. It’s in this world where we met up with Ruski’s regular Louise Philbrick. On this snowy Sunday morning just past 8am, the bar stools were already almost full.

“Louise is so good at making people feel welcome and comfortable while she’s here,” exclaimed co-owner of 20 years Monica Whaley. “We appreciate her because she’ll talk to anyone, even the people we don’t want to. Ha!”

How long have you been coming to Ruski’s?

I lived on the corner of Park and Spring when I started coming here in 1990. I had my studio apartment in the basement of the building. I called it my “Jeffery Dahmer “basement studio, where I could see people’s ankles going by! I would spend hours and hours in there, and then kind of go back into humanity by stoop sitting — a big sport in Portland. I’d sit on my stoop watching people go by, and then when I was sort of ready to engage, I would walk down here to Ruski’s. I’ve been coming here ever since.

What drew you to Ruski’s initially?

It was close and open at weird hours. The food is really good. I love breakfast for dinner, always have. Stiff drinks and the price was right. But it was the community in the end. I come in with an index card and a pen, make my list, organize my thoughts. Typically, I come in and there’s a gang, and we catch up. I was single for a really long time, and I always felt safe here. Even before Whaley and Monica owned it, when Stephen Rosie owned it, there were some really tough broads that worked here, and they had eyes on the back of their heads. I can come in and interact with people or do my own thing. I’ve gotten the entire place to sing happy birthday to I don’t know how many people, and everyone’s on board. I’ve come here for Thanksgiving. I’ve come here for my birthday. I’ve come here before funerals and after funerals. There’s a ton of history there and an intimacy to it that’s surprising and really lovely.

What do you order when you come here?

Something called “The Louise” that’s not on the menu. It’s a bowl of chili with a poached egg and a side of guacamole. I always pay attention to the specials board, because that’s a [Ruski’s cook] Greg thing. He cares a lot about what he’s making and the preparation of it.

Where are you from originally?

I grew up in Falmouth, moved away, went to boarding school and then never came back. My father grew up here. It’s funny, the thing that drove me away is the thing that brought me back. It’s probably true for life, you know, identity. I wanted to blaze my own trail, so I lived and worked in New York City. Then I lived in Connecticut and worked in New York City and then the migration began.

What did you do for work at the time?

I sold steel plates for bridge building and ship building applications. That was a pretty cool job. I did that for a long time. I have an affinity for language and speak French fluently, so the jobs that I ended up in were related to language primarily. I can get by in Spanish. I speak some Swedish and Chinese. I can understand Italian. I worked for a shipping company in Greenwich, Connecticut that was owned by these two really quirky Swedes, and I was like a token American in the office. The important jobs were taken by Swedes and Norwegians, and I got sick of not understanding, so I was like, “I’m gonna learn Swedish so I know what’s going on.” It’s a funny language, and a lot like music. I knew I was making progress when they started shutting doors.

What brought you back to Portland?

I was married, and I moved back to Portland when I got divorced. I was like,”If I got hit by a bus right now, what would my regrets be?” So I went to USM for art school. I had always been in business so it was kind of a lark. I didn’t want to do it to make a living, I just wanted to go. At the time, I worked for IDEX. It was in ’90 or ’91, just after they went public. I was taking night classes, and I missed like seven classes because of my job. And so I was like, “Screw this.” I matriculated and did an art program and loved it.

What kind of art did you make?

Mixed media. I used a lot of doomed instruments like old pianos. It was super designy, I’m very math oriented. When you take it apart you can see how often the piano was played, or if somebody spilled something. I did a lot of welding when I was in school, and my landlord did not take kindly to the concept of oxyacetylene tanks in the Jeffrey Dahmer basement. I worked a lot with lead and would stitch lead. I became known as “piano woman” in Portland.

Are you still making art?

I’m trying to get back into it. I’ve made “rage craft” because of the present administration. I’ve done a couple of commissions. I’ve been in my current job now for nine years, and I need to have more brain space to do more art. It’s time to get back into it.

Louise Philbrick was originally published in The Regulars on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Age: 54

Hometown: Aurora, Indiana

Profession: Bartender

Bar of Choice: Nosh

Drink of Choice: Sailor Jerry’s and Coke

The first-floor of 551 Congress Street in Portland has seen its share of changes over the years. Built in the late 1920’s, the space’s Art Deco design, sleek, concrete floored bar, and long, curved ceiling have remained, but the bars that have occupied the building have changed a number of times over the past 20 years.

The current space, renovated in 2004, was home to The White Heart from 2004–2010, Nosh (original owners) from 2010–2022, and Nosh 2.0 from 2022 to present. The new owners had big shoes to fill, as they had to continue operating a popular bar with a reputation for over-the-top burgers (a burger between two donuts!) and a strong cult following, while forging their own identity.

Over time, they have moved away from the original Nosh’s signature dishes and are now offering a small menu of South Shore-style bar pizza, burgers, and pony-sized draft pours. The new Nosh is affordable, chill, and reliable. So chill, in fact, that Portland’s most unassuming white-bearded bartender. Johnny Anthoff, has settled in as a regular. It may be because the space is pretty familiar to him — he built and operated The White Heart back in the day. But he also just likes the food and the people.

Why did you become a regular at Nosh?

A lot of things, but I think [bartenders] Liz and Olivia and Dajana are a part of that. Also [Nosh Co-Owner] K-Dog…I mean Kevin. I’ve always loved this place for a lot of reasons. I used to hang out with Liz’s dad here when I owned the space.

You once owned a business here. Can you tell us more about that?

Yes, it was called The White Heart. We opened it in 2005. It was a bar, restaurant, cocaine palace. I built the whole thing, but only ran it for about six months. Everything was good, and we had some investors lined up including my in-laws at the time who decided to invest, and they ended up fucking us in the end.

How did it feel coming back? Did it bring back bad memories?

It used to at first, when I came back, when [original owners] Maddie, Toby, and Jay had it. I first moved back to town in 2012 I was like, “Fuck that place.” Then I started hanging out and got to know those guys. So, then I became really comfortable again, because I spent so much time in the space during the entire construction.

How did you end up in Maine initially?

I got offered an eight-week long temporary job as a teaching assistant in Rockport at the International Film and Television workshops. I went to school for illustration and painting at Ball State in Indiana, but I was always way into film so the translation of oils and pen and ink translated straight to light, and that was always my medium of choice. I ended up working as a grip. There’s a difference between a grip, an electrician, a gaffer, and a key grip. I was mostly a dolly grip that made things move with rigs, car rigs, trains. That kind of stuff.

Did you work on any notable projects?

Yeah, I did some really cool ones. Session 9 was a really cool movie that nobody cares about. Anytime that camera moves, that was me, except for on the roof because I said “Fuck that, I’m not taking the fucking dolly up there.” We were Oscar-nominated in 2001 for a film we did called In the Bedroom directed by Todd Fields up in the Midcoast here. It was really intense. I can’t watch it.

Where were you based out of when working on films?

Mostly here. I was in the Midcoast for a while and a little bit in Brooklyn. Even when I was in Manhattan, we didn’t do any film work there, maybe some local commercials, but most of the time it didn’t matter where you live, you travel to wherever the fuck’s going on. I stopped because I made a bunch of money and was like, “Fuck this, I don’t want to hurt my back anymore.” I ended up putting my money into buying this location right here.

You also toured as a musician during this time, correct?

During all this time period, yes. As a freelancer back in the day, I could go on tour and do gigs. I played guitar in a band called Conifer. It was post-metal, post-hardcore or if you go in reverse, math rock nerds that got heavy. I grew up listening to thrash metal, but the guys I was playing with were younger than me and were more into the nineties math rock kind of thing.

Where did you get to travel to while on tour?

We didn’t leave the country because our other guitar player didn’t want to lose his dishwashing job. So, we didn’t go to Europe even though we were offered it. We went all over the country. We never played in Florida, but we played the other 48 contiguous states, more than once.

How did you go from owning this space to bartending?

I had to sell Volkswagens and BMWs and stuff in between for a minute. Then I started working as a rep selling whiskey and wine. I had a stint out west after my mom got ill, so I was in Arizona for a little bit. I was like, “Fuck it I’m never coming back to Portland,” but then I got a call from somebody asking me to visit this new project. So, I visited for a week and ended up moving back in 2012. The project was [the bar] LFK. We planned and built the entire bar. I learned carpentry from being a grip in the film and television business, part of your job is to be a jack of all trades.

You’ve worked at a lot of places around town. Do you have any favorites?

When I came back to town, LFK was awesome at first. I started working for Creston at Bunker and that was super chill. I also worked at Crowbar during that time. I got sucked into being the bar manager at Salvage for four years. We used to party really hard back in the day, and it was busy back then. I was a partner in The End. I’ve been around. I’ve seen a lot of places go down over the years. It almost always has to do with cocaine. Stay away from that stuff. I’ve been at DTL for almost two years now, I love working for [the owner] Kat.

What do you do for fun?

I like to watch football. I love reading science fiction, fantasy books, comic books. Watch bad movies, sleeping, doing nothing, and putting on my headphones and ignoring everyone that fucking bugs the fuck out of me in town all the time. I like to drink, but responsibly.

Johnny Althoff was originally published in The Regulars on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Age: 65
Hometown: South Portland, Maine
Profession: Lobsterman
Drink of Choice: Anything

Located on Custom House Wharf, The Porthole is a legendary Portland waterfront bar and restaurant with a large dining room and patio that attracts tourists, locals and, on occasion, the overly aggressive seagull. It’s renowned for its views, live music, hearty breakfast and, of course, fresh local seafood. In fact, the lobsters served at The Porthole are caught and delivered by this month’s Regular, Mike Libby, whose boat is docked across from the restaurant.

Asked why she nominated Mike, longtime staff member Amanda Thompson said, “Mike is an interesting character. He’s very funny and says exactly what’s on his mind.” It was clear to us that the staff are fond of him. During our interview, every employee who walked by jokingly insulted Mike, and he gave it right back to them — a sign of genuine endearment.

Tell us about your career as a lobsterman.

I’ve been a lobsterman for fifty years. My two sons are fishermen too. I was a single father, and they came to work for me. They never really complained about it. They’ve done very well. I have my boat and my sons both have their own boats.

Do you come from a family of lobstermen?

No, my father was a physics teacher, but I grew up four houses down from the ocean in South Portland, and I just got drawn to the water. I went lobstering with a kid in the neighborhood and saw what he did. Figured it out pretty easy: Don’t drown.

I just got a cheap boat and started small, and I had, like, twenty traps the first year. I wasn’t working for anybody, I was working for myself. At the end of the year I had only one trap left. Then I built myself up and bought a better boat. I was seventeen and I went to Little Diamond Island and there were these three gorgeous blondes working the wharf. There was a guy down there who was an engineer and a lobsterman. He goes, “You hang out here enough, let’s get some work out of you!” and so I started working for him.

What do you like most about lobstering?

Freedom. You can set your own hours, do your own thing. Hopefully you make enough money [laughs]. I fish year-round, but it’s all weather related. You can go to a lot of places, you can put up with a lot of bullshit, but I’m not going out there when it’s two degrees and blowing forty miles per hour.

How’s the industry doing?

Actually, this year — knock on wood — it’s alright. I have no complaints. Twenty twenty-one was the best year I’ve ever had in my life. It was huge because we agreed on eight dollars a pound, but the last two years they pushed the price down. It costs me a thousand dollars a day in bait. That’s a lot of money. People didn’t want to pay that much more for lobsters, but they’re paying it now. It’s reasonable now and we’re catching a fair amount of volume. It’s coming alive for the first time in six years. I don’t know what changed. It’s all cyclic.

Do you have any harrowing tales from being out at sea?

I’ve saved a few people’s lives. You know, down at East End Beach, people go, like, in a kayak and flip over. It’ll be June, but the water is cold as shit. I brought a girl on the boat to get her ashore. I’d say, “What are you doing out here? You’re gonna die!” It’s kind of scary. You don’t want to mess around in the water any time.

How long have you been coming to The Porthole?

I started selling lobsters here probably in 2010. My boat is on the other side of the wharf right there, and, obviously, I’m fishing all day, dealing with crap, so we get drinks here when we’re done. It’s easy!

Do you mostly sell your lobsters to businesses on this wharf?

I sell to Porthole and Boone’s [Fish House & Oyster Room], but the majority of my lobsters go to Custom House Seafood. I was also Craig Johnson’s first fisherman at Coastal Bait.

It seems like you have a great relationship with the staff here. Do you have any favorites?

Amanda’s wonderful. We’ve known each other for thirteen years. I don’t know why she nominated me, though — what a birdbrain. Caitlin is my other favorite. She’s a bartender. Sometimes she’ll add apple cider or water to my beer while I’m in the bathroom. I’ll come back and go, “What is this?!” It’s just to mess with me.

What would you recommend people eat at The Porthole?

Twin lobsters!

Know an interesting bar regular? Send them our way at theregularsmaine.gmail.com.

Mike Libby was originally published in The Regulars on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Age: 83

Hometown: Houston, Texas

Profession: Retired Computer Programmer

Drink of Choice: Old Granddad 114

In what kind of place would a self-proclaimed “Man About Town” spend his time? What environment would reward his intellectual prowess, insatiable curiosity, and peerless taste? Perhaps a combination cafe/cocktail bar/bookstore/event space. Perhaps a place like Novel.

Set amid the grimy 600 Block of Portland’s Congress Street, Novel provides a welcome refuge for a certain type of city dweller, a type like the afore-mentioned “Man About Town,” Kent Gordon. Upon entering Novel’s clean and composed main room, you may find Kent at the bar, sipping thoughtfully on a glass of Old Granddad 114 (kept in stock specifically for him), and perusing the room for a suitable conversation companion.

Novel bartender River is a fan: “He’s the best, he comes in and gets the same thing every time. He’s interesting, and he’s not annoying.”

How did you find your way into Novel?

I didn’t come immediately. They had been open for around six months before I found my way in here. I only live down the block. I’m a near neighbor, and I discovered I kind of like the place. My opinion is that the crowd here is generally young and a bit more intellectual than most bar crowds, so I enjoy hanging out here. Since it’s very convenient, I do come a lot.

Are you from Portland?

No, I was born in Houston, and I lived in Houston until I was eight years old, and then I moved to the very, very far north of Arkansas, and I lived there all the way through college, because I went to the University of Arkansas, and then I spent twenty years in Pasadena, California. Forty years ago, I moved here. They’re all very different places in every dimension you can imagine.

How did you become Kent Gordon “Man about Town”?

Sixteen years ago, my wife died, and like all widowers, I had to figure out a new life, and I tried a bunch of things. You know, bars and restaurants seemed to be the best solution to my problem. I make friends with people at bars and restaurants fairly easily. I was finding myself writing down my information on scraps of paper for people and I said, “My God, I just need something to hand out.” Several people had said to me the phrase, “Man About Town” before, so I looked up the definition, and said, “Hmm, I can live with that. That’s what I’m going to put on my card.” The card was a very successful move.

What are some other things you tried?

Well, my wife and I were fairly well connected with the art scene here, so I thought, you know, art openings and events where I had a social circle. But those things happen a few times a month, at best, and I wanted something to do every night. I also tried the elder college at USM, taking classes for five years, and I made some friends there.

What subjects did you study?

Random ones, but I remember best a course on dying, which is a relevant thing for older people. The description of the class was: “This course is about dying your death.” (Laughs.) I learned a lot, especially on the legal aspects of preparing for death.

Do you have a routine when you go out?

My general evening routine is to sit at the bar of a nice restaurant and have dinner. The five restaurants that I regularly go to are Fore Street, Street and Co., Scales, Solo Italiano, and Evo. I’ve learned to appreciate food put out by the best restaurants. For alcohol, though, I don’t spend any more money than I have to. It’s not worth the price. When I try new places, I’m usually disappointed. I’m pretty particular about what I eat. Sometimes I hang out at the bar at the Cumberland Club. Often I’ll end up here at Novel. I also pay attention to the local music scene. I haven’t missed a Monday Funk Night (at Portland House of Music) in two and a half years.

As a professional regular, who are some interesting people you’ve met along the way?

There is an infinite list there. (Laughs.) I can tell you that the bar at Fore Street is the best for meeting fairly interesting people, and the barrier to getting into a conversation with them there seems to be much lower than most other places. I know the front of the house staff in most of these good restaurants, too.

How do you approach making friends with strangers at a bar?

The first thing is to get a conversation started. If the person is talking at all, even to the bartender, I can learn something about that and you just find an excuse to say something to the person, and they’ll either respond or they’ll ignore you. I don’t bug people that want to be ignored. But if I get any kind of response, it doesn’t take long finding your way to an interesting conversation. At least, it doesn’t take me very long. I can talk intelligently on a huge variety of topics, so I can almost always, you know, find something that I can talk to a person about and that they want to talk about. I like conversations. I don’t like one-sided things and I get really annoyed at somebody that tries to talk all the time.

It sounds like you have a lot of friends. Did you try to date after your wife passed?

You know, I thought I did a pretty good job of marriage. We were married for thirty years and it didn’t take me long at all to figure out that I wasn’t going to find another person exactly like my wife because I had an interesting wife. I wasn’t going to settle for somebody that wasn’t interesting or equally interesting in their own way and it looked to me like the odds of finding that were just vanishingly small. So, you know, I did it the other way. And, you know, I go out with a wide range of women, including one of the bartenders here. I take them out to dinner, especially young women, find that going and having dinner at some fine restaurant that they otherwise wouldn’t even know about is kind of interesting, and I don’t hang out with losers.

E. Kent Gordon was originally published in The Regulars on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Name: Neon Dave

Age: 44

Home State: Connecticut

Profession: Neon artist

Bar of Choice: The Downtown Lounge

Drink of Choice: Narragansett with a lime

Established in 1979, The Downtown Lounge (DTL) in Portland’s arts district is the bar a lot of other bars try to be. From its cheap drinks to its low and lumpy booths to its cramped, graffiti-riddled bathrooms to its eclectic, often noisy, clientele, DTL is the real deal. Is this beloved establishment a “dive” bar? Maybe. Call it whatever you want.

If you stop in to DTL most nights around 6pm, chances are good you’ll run into our next Regular’s subject, local artist Neon Dave, whose neon scorpion design graces the bar’s entrance.

Where are you from originally?

I was born in Connecticut, but spent a lot of summers in Maine at a family cabin. I moved to Florida for high school and college and moved around after that somewhat. I’ve been in Portland since 2010.

Is that around the time you started coming to DTL?

I started coming here fairly early on, but I guess a funny story is that the very first time I came in here was the first year I lived in Portland. I walked right in, and it was a complete shit show. I turned around and walked right back out. Then I started coming in earlier [in the night].

What keeps you coming back?

I used to like (former owner) Norm yelling at people when more than one person would try to go in the bathroom. That was always fun. I like that when nights are different because there’s a show at the State Theatre across the street, and then you have a different sort of crowd, or you can just watch the line. I like how many regulars there really are, and how Cheers-like it is. On a slow night, it’s pretty common for the bar to be full, and I know or at least recognize every single person. I would say DTL’s got, like, an artistic and quirky vibe, but it also attracts people who aren’t into fancy, precious stuff. I was very appreciative that it stood and didn’t turn into something else when ownership changed.

Do you have a favorite bartender?

Oh, I wouldn’t want to pick, are you kidding?! It’s a great crew now.

How did you get your start in neon work?

I was already doing art, and then I had a job at a graphic design ad agency which really wasn’t a bad job. I just didn’t like the office setting and everything. I had a lot of time to surf the web, and my art was already getting really shiny and sparkly, so I decided I wanted to learn neon, and that was when I went out west, and found a place to learn how to do neon at a trade school. It takes quite a bit to learn. It’d be quite difficult to pick it up on your own.

What are some of your favorite neon projects you’ve done around town?

The scorpion is obviously one of the older things I’ve done, but it’s pretty good and detailed and I come here a lot, so it’s one of my tops. I always kind of say with art in general, and also commercial art, if the last thing you did wasn’t one of the best things you did, then what are you doing? Some of my more recent, pretty good projects I’ve done are The Low Stakes Lodge cowboy and the horse’s head over at Nosh. Soon, Silver Street by Taj is opening up, and the new one they’re going to have there I’m gonna be outdoing myself. One that’s pretty cool that a lot of locals don’t get to see is the Top of the East because no one I know goes there, but that’s a pretty crazy piece where I worked with a muralist, so it’s a mural with neon on top of it, right when you exit the elevators. I also made a godzilla footprint on the ceiling of The Send brewery, that might be my favorite recent work.

How do you feel about LEDs becoming more widely used than neon?

People have always been calling neon a dying art. It comes in waves and certainly has setbacks and is not used in the same way it was. There were peaks, which would be more like the forties and fifties, and it then had a downturn. Then it peaked again in the eighties and early nineties. It had sort of another little mini peak with social media and the art world embracing it. Now, obviously, LEDs are marketed as a much cheaper alternative, but they’re not really competition, they’re just a worse version. If that’s what people want, then go ahead and get it, because it’s so much cheaper, and I don’t want to be working on boring projects anyway, but It pains me to see it. People who know the difference appreciate the real stuff.

How much creative control do you have with your projects?

It varies. I’m willing to work with people, if it’s a logo that they already have, or a logo or design they already have, I’m going to still be translating it into the material. Other times, it’s my idea, my design, my creation. Other times, I’ll just do something for the money, and I’m happy to not have to think so much about it. I’ll do wholesale for a bigger sign company. Big sign companies used to do neon in-house, now they don’t anymore. A few of the larger sign companies will subcontract me to do either a wholesale new job or to just prepare something it already exists, because there really isn’t anyone else to do that.

Are there any other local neon artists?

There are people in New Hampshire, Boston, and Providence, but as far as Maine goes, the original old timer that was here, he retired the other year, and then another guy was doing some custom work, but also a lot of repairs for beer signs. He retired just the other year, and I bought his equipment. And then, like I said, the bigger sign companies have, all to the best of my knowledge, closed down their in-house shops. So, I could be wrong, but I don’t think there’s anyone else in Maine doing neon work.

Neon Dave was originally published in The Regulars on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.