Our Story

The Antlers was first known as the “Bucket-of-Blood Saloon and Ice Cream Parlor”. It was run during the prohibition days and so it had to have a front. The place was closed down, however, when internal revenue agents discovered that it sold only one quart of ice cream a month, and yet took in a profit of $900.00. It’s said that the Bucket-of-Blood then became the first lemonade stand in history which refused to serve minors.

Actually, the history of the venerable saloon goes back more than four generations, six families of owners, with the Kinney family contributing most of the memorabilia that adorn the ceilings and walls, the previous owners, Tony Rogers, Jack Brulle, and Al Lelievere, supplying the legends that surround it, and the current owners, the Szabo family, having purchased the establishment in 2009, now make six families of owners. One story is that the Kinneys acquired all the junk that hangs from the ceiling by barter; local wags point out to visitors that The Antlers had a policy of exchanging money for material goods, thereby operating one of the few “bar-gaming” economies in the world. Anyone who ran out of money on a good binge, so the tale goes, could trade a rifle or another antique for enoug loot to get stoned for a while. In a town that has its share of habitual drinkers who also happen to be broke, it seems like a good story.

The truth is that when the Kinneys took over in 1948, there was little ornamentation on the walls. Harold and Walt Kinney, enterprising former Detroit policement, then took over and “steaked” out the place. That is they added prime steak to beer and booze, and it has been a meaty business ever since.

One story persists, however, that one of the chief patrons, Tiny T., was one of the chief contributors to Antlers museum. According to local tourist guides, Tiny, while on a two week toot, traded a moose head, his pisto, his watch, his cousin, and his Pontiac. All of the stuff now adorns the upper atmosphere of the bar, they point out, except for the cousin and the car. The cousin sits stuffed on one of the stools, and Tiny’s car is parked nearby, next to a huge log that was left there by a drunken lumberjack, who thought he could get a case of Jack Daniels for stick of pulp.

But there is an intellectual side to the life in The Antlers. It is the country club of working class. Small, very small fortunes are won and lost in spirited games of daytime cribbage. Night time activities center on good food and drinks, parties and camaraderie. Toivo Suomi and the Finnish Five performed authentic Scandinavian folk songs for three nights in 1959 on one of the tables and several episodes of Gunsmoke were filmed in front of the famous log bar. The Antlers was the other home of the Detroit Red Wings hockey team when they once trained in The Sault. Nowadays, The Antlers gives lessons in boat whistles; in fact, whistles and horns of all kinds. You can usually tell the importance of a guest, or the distance a visitor has traveled by the combination of whistles, bell, and honks from the bar.

The biggest noise is saved for the day of days, the Seventeenth of March. Corned beef and cabbage is on the menu, with Kelly green colored beer. On this day all strata of life descend on the ar, includingt he mayor and any other local dignitaries that can be rounded up. It is a festival to be experienced with townspeople dancing on the tables. The Irish tradition continues while old-timers still tell tall tales from tall stools and college studends and gourmets alike feast on everything from burgers to wild game innovations and all in between. There are a great many truths in the world, but you may never hear them in The Antlers. A truth may seem like a lie in a place where so many lies have been told, and where the insecurity of the world seems small compared to the lingering doubt that some of that stuff up above and all around is due to come down, like the sword of Damocles, and end it all…

Written by Paul Ripley, revised 2010