Robert H. King, who has passed away at 84, had his own set of rules for his pub, King's Inn, at 4403 Harding Road.
If you could shave, you could drink. In 1980, when I was 16, Mr. King sold me the first beer I ever bought at a bar: a Hudepohl, served (as always) in a fully frozen mug, for 50 cents.
I was following in well-trodden footsteps. One Nashville nostalgia website recalls: "In the 1950's in West Nashville, it was practically a rite of passage for a young man to have his first beer at King's Inn (where no one ever asked for an ID)."
But a young person enjoying the Inn's hospitality was expected to behave. On one of my first visits, as I watched the ice slide down the outside of my mug, I overheard a muttered blasphemy from the old-fashioned pinball machine over my shoulder.
Mr. King heard it, too. And that was OK — as long as Mrs. Grace King was not within earshot. But she was just then serving a cheeseburger at the bar, and Pinball Boy had broken a cardinal rule by cursing in front of her. Mr. King summarily expelled him from the premises.
