I’ve never cared much for formal dining rooms. Whether it’s with family or guests, typically we hangout and eat in the kitchen. But each of the three different houses I’ve owned have had formal dining rooms. That’s a lot of money for unused space.
Likewise, even though I grew up in Louisville, spent several years in New Orleans, have made Nashville my home since 1998 and love to visit Las Vegas, I’ve never cared much for bourbon. But it’s difficult to think of four other locales where whiskey flows as effortlessly.
However, for reasons that contradict everything I just mentioned, I’ve always enjoyed the vibe and experience of an old school lounge. So much so that I’ve always wanted a dedicated space for one in my home. And not just a cartoonish man-cave getup or an unused-bedroom afterthought. It needed to be in a prominent space.
Then a series of unrelated events started coming together that forged that vision into reality. The result is a quirky lounge in what was supposed to be the formal dining room at the entrance of my Bellevue-area home. And while nothing in the space was intended to go together, it all works together seamlessly because it was inspired and influenced by the four cities that mean so much to me.
For starters, there are no doors to the room. It’s offset from the foyer by a series of archways. The paint, an orangish variant by Sherwin-Williams called “Red Cent” (#6341), looks like what you’d see in some clubby spaces or small wedding venues–like the one where my wife, Jamie, and I were married– throughout New Orleans.
The centerpiece of the space is the piano bar–a fixture with an intriguing backstory–that we found quite by accident. Built in Chicago around 1903, it’s an actual piano that eventually wound up in Las Vegas where it spent decades on The Strip in a bar at the Stardust Resort and Casino. When it closed in 2006, Stardust property was sold at auction, and this piano was acquired by a couple in Brentwood. But upon receipt, they discovered that to restore it to playing condition would cost more than the piano was worth.
They put it up for sale and it was purchased by Michael Phillips, an artist from Franklin who repurposes retired pianos into wine racks. By chance, I happened to meet Phillips at his (since closed) gallery on Wilson Pike and when he told me the story and showed me the documentation, I knew I had to have it. Jamie and I talked it over but decided against it. Unbeknownst to her, I had already made arrangements with Phillips to make the conversion, and I surprised her with it for her birthday that year.
In the years since, the “wine rack” has slowly evolved (devolved?) into a bourbon bar. As mentioned previously, I’ve never been much of a bourbon fan. Growing up in Louisville, bourbon was everywhere–like Ford and Chevrolet–so it never struck me as anything remarkable. And as a youngster I associated whiskey sipping with something refined people did in polite company. Decades later I gravitated to bourbon for those very same reasons. Besides, I needed something to do during the pandemic, and I love the look of a cozy bar. Crazy how that works.
While there’s some upper tier stuff, the bottles on display aren’t particularly hard to find. In fact, two bottles are as common as can be: Old Forester 86 and Jack Daniel’s Old No. 7. That pair will always be front-and-center because they are the respective flagship sips of my hometown and my adopted home state.
The coffee table is another interesting piece with a story all its own. When we moved into our house in 2013, the agents marketing it said, “It’s like living in a tree house!” They weren’t kidding. There were invasive trees all over the backyard that, had we left them alone, would have reclaimed the house by now. Over time we had them removed (and weren’t we fortunate after the recent ice storm?) except for one. Ultimately it had to go as well and I’m not lying when I say it was not an easy decision to make.
So, we decided to repurpose the tree and commissioned Nashville artist and woodworker Doug Regen to create the table that now occupies a coveted space in our lounge. The table base is designed to mimic a bird nest, a gentle nod to the Tree of Life found in Judaic and Biblical traditions. There are even a few eggs, crafted from wood from our tree, in a wire nest under the table.
The furnishings and artifacts in the room run the gamut. There’s everything from treasured family heirlooms to inexpensive accessories from Goodwill and Wayfair. But a few are worthy of a shoutout.
The bellhop monkey lamp stands alone, if for no other reason than for being cool. But it’s also identical to the numerous fixtures that can be found at Arnaud’s French 75 in New Orleans, quite possibly my favorite bar/lounge in the world. After some extensive online research, we located this one and purchased it from ShadesOfLight.com in Richmond, Virginia. I can’t confirm but I’m reasonably confident we acquired the last one in the country available from a retailer.
There’s a drawing of Muhammad Ali’s famous knockout of Sonny Liston that was made by a now-deceased family friend. You’ll also find a few black-and-white images of our son, Sam, made by Bellevue-based photographer Lindsey Baydoun, some interesting aircraft models crafted from beer cans, and a decoupage of the Declaration of Independence that I made in middle school. Apparently, I got a little carried away with the Bunsen burner that day.
Finally, above the piano, is an original painting by Cory Basil of Franklin. Stop by for a drink sometime and I’ll tell you a funny story about it.
There’s everything from treasured family heirlooms to inexpensive accessories from Goodwill and Wayfair.
The table base is designed to mimic a bird nest, a gentle nod to the Tree of Life found in Judaic and Biblical traditions.