In California, an outsider finds familiar ground in a historic dive bar

The seventh and current owner of 7 Mile House in Brisbane, California, is Vanessa Garcia, a Filipina who emigrated to the Bay Area 22 years ago and bought the property in 2004. Despite having no prior restaurant experience, she has transformed what was a dingy dive, established in 1858, into one of the Bay Area’s must-visit spots for food, drinks and live entertainment. It’s a feat that has had people going, “Wow, really?”

I got my share of “wow, reallys” recently, but they were uttered in doubt rather than marvel when, despite being based in the Philippines, I was commissioned by Vanessa to write a book about the establishment. I couldn’t blame the naysayers. I am an outsider – a geographical ignoramus who thought South San Francisco was in the southern part of San Francisco (it’s actually its own city), and a bar culture newbie who had no clue what Liar’s Dice was (a game of dice played with leather cups).

I spent six weeks doing research in the Bay Area. With no one to talk to except my interviewees, I clung to the attentions of the archive chiefs at the San Francisco Library History Section, San Mateo County Museum and County Assessor’s Office of San Mateo. My crash course on union culture, the Indochina wars and Bay Area immigrants in the 1950s continued when I got back to Manila. But writing brought out the worst insecurities in me. Even if I succeed in writing the book, would people not detect the voice of an alien?

I hoped not – not after all the tales of 7 Mile House I had gathered, all about strange characters who were embraced by the community.

For example, Lenny Stuehler, the fifth person to own the 7, was an alcoholic infamously known for riding a horse drunk down Skyline Boulevard. But when he was sober, he was devoted to his nephew, whom he taught how to fix cars and took to wrestling matches.

Lenny’s ex-wife, Camille, was a fearsome but maternal presence at the 7. She threw out customers on the basis of “I don’t like his face” but treated kids to colas and Shirley Temples. Then there was her son, Al Flynn, who managed the 7 in the 1990s and was indicted for illegal sports betting in 2000. Locals still remember how the FBI raided the bar, an event that tainted its reputation for years. But for all his infamy, Al is still remembered as “good people” by his old friends, and “always Daddy” by his stepchildren.

Then there are the 7’s customers. Olga Calarza and niece Dolores Rodriguez, now in their late 70s, started coming in the 1950s. Olga’s father brought the whole family to California in 1947 to escape the poverty and racism of their town near the Alamo, where Mexicans were still reviled due to the infamous historical battle. “Take one last look! Because you’re never going to see this ugly, racist town again!” Olga remembers her father saying. The scars grew fainter as they integrated into the Bay Area, and discovered 7 Mile House. “There was no racism here. There was always something good going on. The dancing, the drinks, the jukebox… so many good memories.”

Nearly 160 years old now, the 7 Mile House is full of such stories. Its big-hearted cast of characters – its most recent owner Vanessa included – have opened their arms and given a sense of belonging to countless folks who have walked in through its doors. And as my writing project comes to an end, I wonder: who better than an outsider to tell its story?