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Mona is a talented shuffleboard player.
Despite the table’s subtle right-to-left tilt, she spins the shufflepuck toward the left edge, where it gains traction before shooting across the board and eliminating an opponent’s point.
She has frequented Beck’s Bar, which overlooks Bayou Lafourche on La. Highway 1 in Raceland, for 20 years. She’s accustomed to its nooks and crannies, and the shuffleboard is one of the less-obvious examples of that recognition.
With the familiarity of a members-only clubhouse and no such restrictions on prospective patrons, the wooden tavern uniquely blends the recognizable and the new in one of the region’s distinctive settings.
Not many barrooms exist where college students can sing and dance to the newest pop tune mere steps away from where a mixed-gender table of five, encompassing five decades in age, jovially bickers at one another over the music.
Most of the time, the jukebox proxies for live entertainment. Myriad genres sound out, including the occasional yearning country song, but the regulars hum and sing along to Pearl Jam and Pink Floyd just as soon as Cee Lo Green or Alan Jackson.
Wood-finished everything – save for five white folding tables scattered throughout – adds to the clubhouse vibe, as do decorations for every holiday and the functional fireplace in the corner.
Husbands collate in one area, and wives do so in another. They play pool or shuffleboard, gossiping neighbor or unbiased advisor. Smoke fills the tavern, and alcohol flows. It doesn’t take long to realize who has been here before.
It’s only the strangers who are startled when a girl bursts through the door wearing an orange ski mask and pink rubber boots, and it’s only the strangers who don’t laugh loudly when she loses her balance and falls. And yes, it’s the strangers who are outside the animated and joyful conversations the girl has with those who did guffaw.
Mona remembers when the parents of the youthful generation frequented the bar as regulars. The 60-year-old speaks intensely about the hangout spot, which to her is much more than a place to get sloshed. She hugs everyone, tells them she loves them and then fondly recalls memories with their siblings, parents and, in some cases, grandparents.
“We were all regulars at some point,” says Mona, who asks that her last name not be published. “It’s like a family. It’s a place that will never be replaced.”
Even when the faces change, Mona knows the families. It would be like “Cheers” not going off the air if the sitcom barroom were as intimate as this establishment.
“It’s like being at my best friend’s house,” says Saydie Phelps, a college student who stops in often. “It just so happens to be a bar.”
Yet, a business can’t be successful if its only service is to friends. Owner Bobby “Beck” Grabert sometimes books a disc jockey, and though other live entertainment is kept to a minimum, the bar is known to draw a college-aged crowd on the right weekends. “It’s the new generation,” Grabert says.
During Lent, the bar hosts a fish-fry fundraiser on Fridays benefitting local Little League teams.
Every Monday night, the grill is fired for Steak Night, a $13 meal from 6-9 p.m. On Thursday, at the same time, Beck’s Bar hosts Hamburger Night, a $6 meal.
And always in the periphery are Mona and the crew of regulars.
Jace Garner and Mona talk at Beck’s Bar in Raceland. The music is relatively low, the televisions turned off, and the tavern is conducive to a clubhouse atmosphere.
