PSYCHOLOGY BUSKING a la wordswords: SETO'S CAFE: WELCOME TO THE WONDER YEARS OF MUDVILLE, SASKATCHEWAN

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 3^rd, 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.