Roy’s First Chance/Last Chance

Back in the day, Roy’s First Chance/Last Chance was where a lot of folks from Arkansas State had their first beer. Roy’s still exists, and is still little more than a shack that used to be held up by beer. Today I suspect it stands only because the termites are holding hands.

It’s a small stand alone building that used to be on the outskirts of Paragould, Arkansas. Today many consider it an eyesore in the middle of a growing metropolitan area. Where it once sat alone in the darkness of a Friday night, today it sets across from a Wyndham Hotel, an auto repair shop and a savings and loan. It’s no longer the ‘just outside of town’ beer joint of legend.

In years past, when you walked in the door you were greeted by stacks of budweiser and Strohs, clouds of cigarette smoke, loud music, the clack of pool balls and laughter, lots and lots of laughter. Looking around the three cramped rooms of the building, a curious microcosm of North East Arkansas emerged. Young and old sat intermingled at tables circa World War II. Golfers chatted with cowboys. Pretty girls smiled and sat drinking beer with eager young men in a 100% safe environment. There was never trouble at Roy’s. It just wasn’t allowed. Lines of quarters sat patiently on the edges of the pool table representing the line of challengers on the table. The weathered and rapidly aging young men who worked the farms and nearby ranches laughed and soothed aching backs with cold beer and truly great hamburgers. In a five minute span, the music would range from Johnny Cash to Edgar Winter and then to Elvis. Sing-a-long’s spontaneously erupted anytime someone played David Allen Coe singing ‘You Don’t Have to Call Me Darlin’. All action would stop at the Foosball table and the pool table while everyone sang to the best of their ability.

ASU and Razorback paraphernalia peeked from the walls between stacks of beer cases. Graffiti was not only welcomed, it was cherished. Occasionally Tex would appear, and if you asked, she would bring out her little roulette wheel for a go. Sometimes you won, some times you lost but for a quarter you had just a minute or two of conversation and innocent fun with Tex.

It has been claimed that Roy’s wasn’t very good about checking IDs back in the day. I have heard it said that back in the day, all you really needed to get a beer or two was a buck and a positive attitude. I really think that your conduct and bearing was your ID. If you carried yourself like you could handle a beer or two, then you could get a beer at Roy’s. When you think about it, that’s really how it ought to be. If you looked like you were trouble, it might be no beer for you whether you were 21 or not. I saw that happen more than once.

Time has not been good to Roy’s. Some years back in the name of progress, some people who obviously have never set foot in Roy’s, decided to lop off the front of the building so they could widen highway 49. The better choice would have been to move the highway over a bit. You might as well put horns on a Razorback and shave his ass or change Jumpin’ Joe into a leprechaun. Some things just aren’t right. The parking lot, which was always messed up, is still messed up, but it’s not messed up right. Back in the mid-1970s, the lot would overflow on Friday and Saturday nights and cars would park along the side of the highway. Today, when it’s crowded it’s just a pain.

With all the changes that have come to Roy’s, some folks say they’ve ruined the place. Others point out that music still rocks the walls of the old beer joint. The beer is still cold and the hamburgers are still the best in North East Arkansas. Once inside the walls, it’s still the funky little beer joint outside Paragould.

When I was in Jonesboro a few years ago, my brother and I visited Roy’s. It was a longer drive than I remembered, and there sure as hell was a lot of stuff where there used to be bean fields and woods. We pulled in, and walked in through the ‘new’ entrance. It was odd. The stacks of beer cases and the jukebox were both gone. The old bar was still there.

I look at Roy’s a lot like I look at the Rolling Stones. It’s been a really long haul with a lot of beer and good music along the way. The changes brought by the march of time weigh heavy on both the Stones and Roy’s. Mick looks like a half melted wax figure from Madam Trousseau’s Wax Museum. Keith Richards looks like he’s an active participant in the zombie apocalypse. Roy’s appears to have had a botched nose job. It seems to me that time has caught up with both the Stones and Roy’s, but keep the faith. Keith Richards will live forever and there will always be Roy’s.

Go ahead. Have a beer with us.

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