The Copper Gate, "The place your mother warned you about" and "Scandalnavian since 1946" according to signs placed outside, had its last call yesterday, Sunday, June 30.

Recently, the Copper Gate was sold to locals who were fans of The Viking (which was located right across the street and closed due to development) and who wanted to recreate, in a sense, that kind of bar in Ballard, according to Copper Gate co-owner Jon Alberts. While rumors fly that there might be more of a focus on sports, nothing has been confirmed yet.

A liquor license application is in to the Liquor Control Board for a new bar called "Olaf's."

"I feel like on the one hand, we love the place (Copper Gate). We had fun running it and we loved being here and the music scene here. ... I feel like it's very positive looking back at the last seven years," said Alberts, who co-owns the Copper Gate along with Graham Graham. "At the same time, it's a business decision, not an easy decision to come by, (but) the fact that it's Ballardians doing something Ballardian and not not something corporate is kind of nice."

The Gate, which was renovated seven years ago by the same owners as Thaiku, was a place that people could call a neighborhood bar. It was neither too dive-y nor too hipster-y. While its known widely for its scandalous art -- pictures of naked ladies adorn just about every nook and cranny in the bar, and don't forget the highly suggestive hallway leading into the Pussy Room -- it is also considered by regulars to be comfortable, friendly and safe. It was a place where local jazz musicians found a community.

Scandalous art adorns the walls of The Copper Gate.
This painting is said to be of the original owner.

"The fact they have a Pussy Room -- come on! -- you just have to come here," said Kelly Gillian, who has lived a few blocks down for the past ten months. She half-joked that she first came for "the boobies."

For Gillian, the Pussy Room had more significance, though. When she came to the Copper Gate, she was immediately reminded of her friend who had lost a battle against cancer.

"Heather would've loved the fact that there's a Pussy Room. ... She was all about women's lib," Gillian said. In her honor, Gillian and other friends rented out the Pussy Room for a pre-funk wake, gathering people from New York, Los Angeles, Seattle and elsewhere.

Brian Steinmetz, who had quickly fallen in love with the Copper Gate because it "felt like home," had brought his 76-year-old mother into the Pussy Room.

"My mother was visiting from Detroit last year and I brought her here and we went back to the P-Room ... she was like 'Oh my God, it's like going into the womb!" he said.

Kelly Gillian considers The Copper Gate her neighborhood bar.

Brian Steinmetz enjoys the unpretentious, neighborhood atmosphere of the bar..

Peter Arnold, who has lived down a few blocks for 20 years now, proudly claimed the corner stool at the bar.

"This is my chair at the Copper Gate. My ass has been in it for the past 20 years so we're kinda bummed it's going," he said. "... I always thought it was a fantastic place. We would meet fishermen from Alaska, people from all different kinds of places."

He had tales of the old Copper Gate. When he and his wife stopped in the bar for a beer after going to the laundromat next door, they received strange looks from bikers and tough characters as if they didn't belong. Outside, drug deals were constant.

"I was here and pimpmobiles would be rolling up dealing out drugs," he said. "It was crazy!"

Another regular, Hilary Patterson, had been in the neighborhood 23 years but never went to the Copper Gate until the renovated version opened up. When asked if she had ever been to the old one, she said "No!" and laughed. "I walked by -- 'OK Hilary, you're almost home.'"

For the workers, the Copper Gate had been a singular experience.

"This place is unique, I never worked anywhere like it," Bar Manager Jake McBreen said. "It's really hard to explain."

He said the people are who made it what it was: Neighborhood regulars, hipsters, old Norwegians drinking Aquavit and singing old Norwegian songs, even the tough regulars of before who went to the old Copper Gate would come in and have a couple beers.

Candice Cross, who was hired at the Copper Gate just three days before the owners found out they were selling, said no other place was quite like it.

"I would explain the magic of the place just comforts you," she said. "This place was like home the first time I came here. You learn a lot of the pictures, the words on the wall, all the regulars."

Peter Arnold, right enjoys a drink on the last night. Bar Manager Jake McBreen, left, said he has never worked at a place like the Copper Gate.

Even though Candice Cross only worked at the bar for about a month, she said she felt at home the moment she walked through the door.

More than just a gag, The Pussy Room became a home for jazz musicians, providing a unique space that is intimate, bringing audience members face to face with the entertainers. It provided a regular spot for the "death jazz" band The Suffering Fuckheads and the temporarily Thaiku-less Fu Kun Wu Trio, as well as other bands and would be up-and-comers.

"Musicians got to meet people they might not have been able to meet otherwise. They got to cross-polinate," said Kubby C. (The C is for Casual), who booked entertainment and more or less ran the Pussy Room.

Kubby likes to say the Pussy Room is "for the bands and the fans," giving musicians a hundred percent of the proceeds while offering audiences a cheap or free cover charge. Kubby said he treated musicians like he would like to be treated himself.

For bands, the loss of the Copper Gate is a hard one.

"We're absolutely heartbroken," said Ron Weinstein of the Suffering Fuckheads. Before they started their last set last Tuesday, he lamented, "Jazz is dead; The Copper Gate is dead."

Kubby, who is looking for another venue to book in the same manner, was more upbeat. "I've been very honored and humbled and grateful for this experience. It's been a great run."

Kubby C., Guardian of the Pussy Room, helped create a home for jazz musicians with co-owner/jazz musician Jon Alberts.

Questions were aplenty upon the final night: Will the new place pay tribute to Scandinavian heritage? Will Norwegians be able to drink Aquavit there on Syttende Mai? What about the Viking ship bar? The nudie art? The naked Barbie dolls in the women's bathroom?

Alberts said that everything is up to the new owners. The bar and all of the decor is now theirs -- except for the items that people had been ripping off in the Gate's last days -- and they can do with it what they want.

Steinmetz pitched the idea of having the Ballard-based Nordic Heritage Museum make an exhibit out of all of the art and decor. Certainly, the Gate was like a miniature museum, often captivating customers and leaving them gawk at everything with jaws ajar.

Whatever happens, one thing seems to be sure: the Copper Gate is no more.

"It won't be the same obviously. It'll never be the same," Arnold said.

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