 |
| A YOUNG GUY SETO ON A TYPICAL VANGUARD DAY CIRCA 1965 |
WELCOME TO MUDVILLE.
In antediluvian times, forty years prior to the nationally famous flood of July 3rd, 2000, where 14 inches of rain fell upon the village of Vanguard, the sign “WELCOME TO MUDVILLE” (in reference to "Casey At The Bat") was the greeting. It was hand-written in mud o’er top the original sign, “WELCOME TO THE VILLAGE OF VANGUARD, the mudified magnus opus by the larrikins, Butch Stokes, Glenn Heebner, and Randy Cochrane. At least that was the rumor.
In the years before the pavement, after even a regular
rain pour, the village became so muddy that people, literally, could not drive
their cars on the streets. WELCOME TO
MUDVILLE was apt.
Mingling and then seated, and then more mingling at
the GUY SETO MEMORIAL in Vanguard this past summer, my mind was filled with Vanguard
memories, most of which hazed, I know, by romantic nostalgia, and all of which
offering sempiternal youth for all in attendance.
There were memories of life in Vanguard before GUY
SETO came to town. There was JIM MINIFIE’S POOL HALL, where the cigarettes
squashed in a jar on the counter sold two for a nickel. And in the corner by the main street window, Wally
the Barber would be cutting hair, bowl cuts, brush cuts, or college cuts, for
$2.50
Before Guy came to Vanguard the café was owned and
operated by Charlie and Sam. Charlie was
always chuckling at the front counter and silent Sam, forever cooking in the back
kitchen.
Those were the days when a small bag of chips cost 5
cents, a large bag 10 cents. Coca-Cola
and Pepsi-Cola and Kik Cola small pops sold for 8 cents to drink in, 10 cents
to take out. The large pops sold for 10 cents drink in, 12 cents to take out,
and plugs of black licorice cost 2 cents apiece.
When a young Guy Seto took over the café, his first
order of business was to install a counter and stools, which happened to begin 50
years of Guy Seto-Vanguard history. Those
stools! Every day after school and all day long on weekends those stools were crowded with kids,
some of their nicknames being Pretty Boy (Jimmy Burns), Smitty
(Brian Smith), Hooker (Wayne Graham), Foot (Brent Hopfner), Race
Car (Ross Heebner), Skin (Dennis Dyck), Shane (Dwayne
Finlay), O’Toole (Mike O’Neil), and me, Wiggy Baiter Ink. And while we were all at school, the stools
were occupied by the locals, such as the tailor, the town clerk, the banker,
and the farmer who happened to be in town.
 |
| GUY'S STOOLS BEING AUCTIONED |
Sharon Seto was always at the front counter running the till, while her mother, May, was always quietly working in the back. Her brother, Jimmy, too was always in the back, prepping for meals and cleaning in the kitchen. I remember the tykes, Paul and Charlie Bay chatting it up with the customers, and I remember Julie toddling around the stools as best she could. Kris was still a baby when I left town.
From outward appearances, judging by the bicycles
piled along the sidewalk and in the dirt on the north side of the building, SETO’S
CAFÉ could have been a bicycle repair
shop. Later on, as my peer group aged, the cafe could have been perceived as a motorcycle
gang hangout, Brent’s 40 cc Suzuki, Kim’s 50 cc Honda, three identical candy
red 80 cc Suzukis, belonging to Dennis and Clark and me, and Dale’s 150 cc Honda,
parked in front. And frequently in the
summer, SETO’S CAFÉ could have been perceived as a cowboy saloon, when David rode
his Clydesdale horse and tethered it next to the café.
When we were not on those counter stools smoking our
cigarettes, we were crammed into one or more of the wooden booths, pouring Lik-M-Aids
into our 7-ups or Coca Colas, then shaking them up to the climactic releasing
of the thumb and spraying the ceiling.
SETO’S CAFÉ was an all-season destination. Summertime,
autumn, wintertime, and springtime, sunny days or rainy days or snowy days or
stormy days, we would gather at SETO’S CAFÉ. For the town teenagers, SETO’S
CAFÉ was the hangout. SETO’S CAFÉ was
the place to gather in our plans to go elsewhere, and the place to gather after
being elsewhere. Before we ventured to
any out-of-town base-ball tournaments, we would gather at SETO’S CAFÉ. After a day of swimming down at the creek, we
would gather at SETO’S CAFÉ.
Not-so-strangely, reminiscent of Bill Murray in Ground
Hog Day, recurring actions in the café come always to mind. Whenever I
think of SETO’S CAFÉ I think of Jimmy Burns purchasing a Coca-Cola and Caramilk
bar, and then punching out the song, Nashville Cats, on the jukebox. And I think
of farmer, Fred, buying a round of pop for all the teenagers in the house. I could go on and on and on.
To close, I
must state that our town had always a few good citizens. Always, there were responsible adults who were
committed to enhance our community. When
I think of these good citizens, I think mostly of coaches and managers of
sports teams. I think of Emil Hopfner managing
our hockey teams. I think of Hughie Lee,
Pete Heinrichs, and Billy Kehoe coaching our hockey teams. I think of Wally (the barber) Graham coaching
our baseball team. Of all these good
citizens, the legacy of GUY SETO’S fifty years of contributing to the good of
the community has stood the test of time.
Before we left Vanguard on that day of the GUY SETO
memorial celebration, Brent Hopfner and I drove over to SETO FIELD, our baseball
diamond, rightfully and deservedly named in his honor.
On the day of Guy's passing ... THERE WAS NO JOY IN MUDVILLE.
 |
| GUY'S LAST STAND |
