Slow but sure, Anthony Hars would shuffle his feet up the uneven brick walkway and through
the doors of Bull Run for lunch two or three times
He would always stop and linger in the doorway threshold as if looking for permission to enter. We had to locate a corner table for Anthony, as far away from other lunch patrons as possible for it was gossiping ladies, boisterous businessmen, and energetic little ones that he preferred to distance himself from.
Anthony came to Bull Run seeking not only a hearty lunch and a few afternoon cocktails, but for peace and quiet; solace from the ever bustling outside world. Once a table was secured, a Manhattan straight up with one cherry and extra rocks on the side was delivered.
No conversation was needed.
No questions were asked.
The Manhattan was on the table before Anthony sat down.
Although not a fan of interacting with other lunch patrons, Anthony did like to banter back and forth with his server. And though a man of few words, his wit and intelligence were easily recognizable.
The most serious contemplation of the afternoon would come when asked if he wanted the fish and chips or salmon entrée for his lunch. Anthony was a creature of habit and never strayed from his particular order. We all knew it by heart.
A glass of Merlot was to be brought over with the entrée and a second glass with dessert. For dessert, always a crème brule and a cup of coffee with extra cream and sugar.
And after every morsel and drop of food and drink was taken down, if and only if it was quiet enough, Anthony would shuffle over to the big black armchair in front of our fireplace, sit down, tilt his head back, and take an afternoon snooze.
Other patrons often questioned the old man asleep in the chair, wondering if he was okay.
To which we replied, "Oh he's fine. That's just Anthony."
And that was just Anthony.
A man who will be deeply missed yet never forgotten here at Bull Run.
-Kate Sawyer, Barkeep Generation 3
To read more about Anthony's fascinating journey, pleaseclick HERE
We knew Anthony when he was young and full of vigor; we knew him when he was old.
We saw him with family, with colleagues, with clients and we saw him alone.
We understood that he'd known great success, having used the great talent he was given.
His jokes - often zingers
delivered in his melodic accent - were the definition of wry humor.
It was an honor to take care of him, and there is no need to say goodbye, as Anthony is forever part of the story told by these tavern walls.
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Serving the Tired,
215 Great Road
Shirley, MA 01464