![]() ![]() The focal point of stagecoach travel in Connecticut towns at the time was the local tavern, usually run by a person of standing in the community. It was once common, especially on farms on main roads, that when the man of the house died and children grew and left the homestead, widows would open a tavern/inn to be able to maintain the home and keep a place for themselves to live. A sign outside a side entrance to the home proclaims "The Widow Wilcox Proprietor," and she must have enjoyed a modicum of success as a tavern owner and innkeeper despite Jay’s less than flattering opinion as the property later became the Bigelow Hotel. For some reason, Chief Justice Jay did not approve of the widow Wilcox’s tavern. Macdonald kept a photograph of Eliza in his study she collected numerous photos of him.At times, as one can imagine, complaints were issued for keeping disorderly houses of entertainment. Two rooms at Grimason House were kept at his disposal. and the widow Grimason are longstanding, and the charming Old Chieftain did nurture a reputation as a ladies’ man. Grimason as high priestess.” On election nights, he said, the Tory-lovin’ landlady “stood free drinks to her clients.” James Roy, author of The King’s Town, described Grimason House as “the shrine of John A.’s worshippers with Mrs. Eliza turned her inn into his local campaign headquarters, and her influence alone was believed to be worth 100 votes in a city with just a few thousand eligible voters. Under her spirited ownership, Grimason House prospered and became the go-to place for a right-leaning clientele and the Tory party’s charismatic leader, Macdonald, already a rising parliamentary star. and incessantly trumpeted his political platform. Yet Macdonald favoured Grimason House, for political and personal reasons, both of which involved the same person - the aforementioned Eliza Grimason.Įliza idolized John A. To renowned tippler John A., Grimason House represented more than just a place to quaff quarts of ale and toss back five-cent shots of whiskey he could do that almost anywhere in Kingston in the mid-1800s: thriving and thirsty, the town boasted more than 160 taverns, including two that operated out of City Hall. On a wall, framed behind glass, a yellowing copy of the 1851 Bill of Sale signed by Macdonald. A pinball machine stands next to the blocked-up carriageway. Wagon wheels, mounted fish and an array of blacksmith tools adorn the Royal’s walls, along with the skull of a Texas longhorn. ![]() ![]() The Lavins guided a visitor on one last tour of the darkened tavern, which is laden with reminders of yesteryear: The 1880s nickel-plated Doherty cookstove photographs of royal visits to Kingston, including a polaroid of Queen Elizabeth II as her convertible passed in front of Sir John A’s old haunts. inclusive, the tavern and eight upstairs apartments, at “between three and four million dollars.” Lavin, 77, estimated the value of the expansive downtown property, which includes 338-344 Princess St. “The profits were never great, but they were enough to pay the bills.” “We always got by,” Lavin the owner explained. Then early this year the pandemic landed the knockout sucker punch. Still, the old watering hole with the odd-angled front door stayed on its feet, bolstered by regulars who’d been coming for years. The No Smoking bylaw hurt, too, as did the “Big Dig,” the sewer-line project that ripped open the main drag like a can of kippers. Sure, the temperance movement was a nuisance while it lasted, but it’s a minor blip in the saloon’s history. The contagion managed to do what the Depression and two world wars could not. They put it to him, and he never came back.”Īll that history is now water under the proverbial bridge since COVID KO-ed the Royal. There were no rats, and people didn’t like being called rats. “The same guy, after he gets out (of prison) four years later, comes back in here and starts runnin’ his mouth and callin’ people rats. Nearby in the abandoned barroom, Mike’s son, Brian, picked up the story. “The guy threw everything - but not the (bank) money - in a corner and kept right on running out the back door. ![]() Lavin’s mother, Enid, bought the business from city merchant Wally Elmer in 1956, a century after Grimason House tapped its first keg. “This guy came running in here after robbing the bank that used to be up the street,” the Royal’s longtime owner, Mike Lavin, recalled the other day, recounting a decades-old incident. Occasionally the walls witnessed frontier justice meted out on site, such as the time a fleeing bank robber rushed in through the front door. This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. ![]()
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