| Hoot
Mon, A Scotsman Ronnie Dee
(c) Copyright 2026 by Ronnie Dee
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The Storefront Congregation was my favorite bar for years. I was a good friend of the owner, Kenny, who was also a big baseball fan. We went to a number of the Cincinnati Reds games and one year we went to the playoffs and the World Series. The Storefront featured folk and bluegrass music and was a popular place for years. They also featured some outstanding rock & roll from time to time. It was a former grocery and had full front windows, upon which they painted the names of each week's musical performers. Bardstown Road was a main thoroughfare in Louisville and it was pretty cool to have your name on the window for all to see.
The storefront was a great gathering place and they served draft beer in mason jars and used large, cushioned beer barrels as bar stools. It was also the place where I got stabbed back in 1971.
Kenny and his wife, Sheila also hosted a "hootenanny" for many years. They had a large side yard by their house and people would come from far and wide, many bringing their instruments and we would play and sing and eat soup beans and drink beer all day every Memorial Day and Labor Day. It was indeed a real hoot.
Kenny was a bassist and played with my group, The Riverfront Ramblers, many times. When they closed the Storefront, they opened a new place called The Rudyard Kipling. The hoots continued as usual.
We then began hanging out at a new place just down the street called The Outlook Inn. It was operated by Ralph, the guy who owned the little bar that got destroyed by the tornado. He bought this seedy old bar and fixed it up. He enlisted the help from some friends to do some painting and carpentry. He had a stock of beer to get rid of before he could restock, so it was free beer for the workers. I volunteered and spent several weeks painting and drinking beer and listening to rock & roll, and ending the evening conversing and smoking a few joints.
When he opened we began hanging out there and a pretty good crowd would show up every night. We had some good times, just being among friends talking, drinking beer, adding to the perpetual smokey atmosphere, playing pinball and shooting pool.
There was one incident which I, alone, was able to enjoy. It involved my good friend John Allen. John Allen was a fine fellow, always in good spirits and a capable musician. John Allen, Scotsman to the core, played the bagpipes.
Ralph fancied himself among the mysterious Black Irish descendants and he had summoned John Allen to come and regale him on his birthday. John Allen accommodated Ralph's request and came resplendent in full regalia, kilts and all.
The Outlook Inn was divided in half. The first half contained the bar and some tables and booths and the men's restroom. The second half held a pool table, some pinball machines and some booths. There was a serving window in the retaining wall. There was a hallway just off of the pool table that led back to the womens' restroom.
When John Allen decided to serenade Ralph, he needed to tune up. That's right, bagpipes need tuning up. So he took them into the hallway just around the corner where you couldn't see him.
I began watching the pool game. It was highlighted by some older guy I didn't know who was very drunk. I don't know if he could even see the balls, but he leaned over the table like he was studying them. About then, John Allen, who was still around the corner, blasts out with the first wheezing off-notes from the pipes. The drunk guy, startled, dropped his pool cue, and began looking around.
The notes reverberated and echoed all over the room and this guy had no idea from where this sound was emanating. No one else in the room showed any reaction and I was about to bust a gut laughing. After dropping his cue, he took a last swallow of his drink and looked around again. His expression of confusion and horror was too much and he lurched toward the front door while John Allen's bagpipes screeched away
I am convinced he thought that he was the only one who was hearing that god-awful noise and would wake up wondering what in the world he had experienced.
I
guess John Allen got the things properly tuned up because he
played a couple of numbers for a beaming Ralph a little later and
everyone who was still there seemed to be happy.