Larry's Greenfront Undergoes Another Greening - Of Sorts

Down at First and Main, there used to be this place called the Greenfront, and Skid Road old-timers would describe to you how the front door would open and guys would come flying out and land on the sidewalk.

It was that kind of saloon. It was where longshoremen, dock workers and truck drivers used to come in at 6 a.m., just to get a good start on the day; where they chased whiskey, if at all, with a beer, and white wine was considered a sign of effete decadence.

Larry Culp took the place over in 1962. He renamed it Larry's Greenfront, then later, about 1975, he moved it a few doors up First Avenue.

The first thing Larry did was do away with the fortified wine to weed out the winos.

Not much else changed. The longshoremen still came and Larry was his own bartender, and because the place was not large enough for such luxuries, he doubled as his own bouncer.

Many's the time, as old-timers can tell you, that Larry would come over the bar to collar a mean drunk and restore good manners to the Greenfront.

Down through the years, as Skid Road became Pioneer Square and Pioneer Square became touristy chic, Larry's Greenfront remained a blue-collar fixture.

The food was good. The waitresses were great. In the neon-festooned bar, the longshoremen still knocked 'em back, and Larry's had a good following - newsies and lawyers and pols. Charley Royer brought his people in when he was mayor.

"In the old days," Larry Culp was saying, "you couldn't do much wrong. There used to be four or five eating spots around here, but now there must be 50."

So it happened, about five years ago, that Larry Culp found himself "burning out," as he puts it. He sold his Greenfront to his two boys, Charley and Larry Jr.

Charley was 25 then and Larry Jr. was 32. They put in music, groups playing rhythm and blues. They built a small stage.

"My dad and I kind of went to war over that," Larry Jr. said, laughing. "When we weren't using the stage, we put tables and chairs up there during the day. One day I went out and when I came back, dad had taken the chairs and tables away.

"We argued a lot about that music. He didn't understand it, but I wanted it. Finally, he said, `Go ahead, do what you want - it's your place now.' "

One more thing should be said about Larry's Greenfront. The food has stayed good - pretty good - of a certain type. It's about in the same league with the Mecca Cafe, Sorry Charlie's, the Five Point, the Athens and Ozzie's.

And a dozen more such places, maybe - solid, down-home provender, and please pass the gravy.

Which brings us to a few weeks ago when word got out that Larry's Greenfront had hired Kathy Casey to "upgrade" its menu. Kathy, as everyone knows, is the young whiz of haute cuisine who made a big splash in New York's "ultra" cooking crowd.

She now does consulting work for restaurants. So when word got out that Kathy was going to spruce up the Greenfront, one guy rolled his eyes back, looked heavenward, and groaned, "Oh, Lord, there goes the neighborhood!"

This department is pleased to note that the neighborhood isn't going anywhere.

Kathy has moved in on the menu, to be sure, but most of the old standbys are still there - eggs, hash browns, chicken-fried steak, waffles, country gravy, biscuits, hot cakes and everything else that would make any proper nutritionist plunge into a vat of low-fat yogurt.

She has added a few things and improved some others. Kathy, by the way, was assisted by another girl whiz of local kitchendom - Diana Isaiou, recently executive chef at Cafe Sport in Bellevue.

There are fewer longshoremen - down to about 25 percent of formerly, according to Larry Culp Jr. Every time you drive past a container waiting to be loaded on a ship . . . that's where the longshoremen went.

"Business is very good," says Larry Jr. "We seem to work well together, Charley and I. He likes to be out in front talking to people, I like to be the bean counter."

He paused a moment, then talked about his father again. "He's an unusual guy, my dad, he seems to take to people.

"He can come out to my house for a visit and know my neighbors better than I do. I worked around here for about 13 years, and I can remember dad settling arguments and loaning the longshoremen money when they needed it.

"A lot of this place is still what it always was."

Emmett Watson's column appears Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday in the Northwest section of The Times.