It was where one of my best friends in high school ordered her first “Rum & Vodka.” Being underage, I had coached her to be casual and confident, like she placed cocktail orders every day. We should have spent more time on the dialogue and less time on the delivery. The confused server asked, “You want those together?” Unsurprisingly, the question was followed by “Can I see your ID?”
It was where my father, a proud Air Force Retiree, saw his grandson in his fatigues for the very first time. It was one of the few times I’d seen him fight back tears. Later, during my parent’s illnesses, when it was too hard for them to get out, I would go in for carryout. Once, as I stood there waiting for the food, Dee Chronkhite, the manager, invited me to sit at the bar where, unbidden, she poured me a shot of whiskey. She, with her keen eye and kind heart, told me I looked like I could use it. She was right. She turned out to be an unexpected and well-timed blessing. The drink didn’t hurt any either. Turns out there were quite a few similar moments for quite a few people.
It was where fellow Stebbins grads would meet for impromptu reunions. Sometimes former teachers would join in, such was the gravitational pull of the place. WPAFB personnel and local businesspeople would get away for surprisingly good and affordable lunches. “The food is really good here!” was the refrain of newcomers. The prime rib was legendary. Recipe requests were often made for the homemade salad dressing and wing sauce. People would drive clear across town for the Charbroiled Chicken Salad or Rice O’Pat. Randy, with a work ethic that inspired two generations of employees, was responsible for almost all of it. Business deals were written up on beverage napkins. Bengals and Browns hearts were broken. Proposals were made. Retirements were celebrated. One of the bartenders requested that his ashes sit on a high shelf to oversee it all. Clancy’s Tavern served as the backdrop for all kinds of small life moments that, in the end, turned out to be not so small after all.
I’m not sure the original owner Jim Pfeiffer, and his wife Mary, ever really knew what the Tavern they started in 1973 would mean to the people who formed a community there. Randy Handler and his wife Pat became owners in 1983. Randy was in the kitchen on the last day, where he’d been nearly seven days a week for the last few years. Dee was right there by his side, the same place she’d been for the last 39 years. They seemed surprised at the outpouring of love and gratitude they experienced since the closing announcement was made. They were, no doubt, too busy with the many day-to-day demands of a small family business to notice just how much the place meant to the folks who frequented it over the years.
I popped into Clancy’s before it closed. Dee was behind the bar. Randy was in the kitchen, just like always. She said they had opened at 10 am and closed after midnight. She had to be exhausted, but seemed somehow energized. The place was packed. People were calling Randy out of the kitchen to take pictures. Half a century of tavern tales were being told and retold. A commemorative t-shirt stand had to be set up by the door. Their many years of hard work mattered. And in the last few weeks, patrons weren’t shy about letting them know it.
Randy and Dee, thanks for those ridiculously long hours and all the sacrifices that went with them. Thanks for weathering a pandemic, supply chain issues, and worker shortages. Thanks for the memories you worked so hard to give us. And to the rest of the Clancy’s family: Tina, Christy, Blair, Angi, Allison, Alyssia, Cyndee, Mikey, Anthony, Alex and Ezrah, thanks for making it possible for us to come in and pay our respects to the place and the people who made it so special. Clancy’s Tavern hosted over 50 years of memories and merriment. It was like having a Redwood tree in your neighborhood. How do you replace such a thing? You don’t. It took such a long time to grow. You just send up thanks that you got to sit in the shade of it for a while.
Karen Wampler is a lifelong resident of Dayton who’s exploring life after Hara.
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