He does weddings and he does funerals.
With funerals, he says, you鈥檝e got to start with a joke.
Standing behind the counter at North Shore Bowl on West Third Street, Richard Grubb, 72, seems as much a part of the joint as the laminate lanes, the plastic pins, and the coffee we鈥檙e sipping out of tiny Styrofoam cups.
He鈥檚 still explaining the psychology of funeral comedy when a delivery guy interrupts to ask about the chair blocking the delivery room.
鈥淭ake that chair and throw it at this guy!鈥� Grubb orders, pointing to me.
We met 30 minutes ago, but like just about everyone who time-warps down those stairs, Grubb and I are old friends.
He knows the place. He knows who wears a size nine and 鈥渨ho鈥檚 a pain in the ass.鈥�
In 2014, the North Shore News called North Shore Bowl: 鈥渢he last pin standing.鈥� That pin is about to topple, Grubb reveals.
鈥淚鈥檝e been in bowling 59 years, I鈥檝e been here 35 . . . I鈥檝e had enough now.鈥�
There鈥檚 a For Sale sign out front and a buyer could swoop in, throw down some cash and close the doors at any time. Even if it doesn鈥檛 sell, by May 31, 2020, the North Shore will lose two institutions: the bowling alley and Grubb. The old pin king has given that date as his final frame.
Grubb鈥檚 been an alley cat since he was 13 and a buddy pried him away from a pinball machine at Commodore Lanes on Granville Street and forced him to pick up a ball.
He set pins for five cents a game and gave just about every nickel back to the Commodore so he could bowl against his friends (they were no competition, he confides) and their parents.
鈥淚 told them I鈥檇 beat 鈥榚m. . . . I was a cocky bugger,鈥� he adds, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.
He was Vancouver鈥檚 other King Richard. Mr. Commodore. Mr. Wonderful (and that was before pro wrestler Paul Orndorff came along and stole his nickname, he says).
鈥淭he problem was I was so young, I was so good so fast . . . I lost interest.鈥�
He eventually won three national championships but not before realizing that while he was good, he wasn鈥檛 nearly as good as he thought he was.
Grubb started as assistant manager at North Shore Bowl in 1983 and ran the place by the end of the 鈥�90s.
The lanes are open 364 days a year and Grubb is usually there from the first loft to the last fudged scoresheet.
He takes the odd Sunday off, he says: 鈥渋f there鈥檚 no birthday parties.鈥�
It鈥檚 sad to think about walking away from it, Grubb says, reflecting on the adults with special needs who pack the place every Thursday night for the Special Olympics.
鈥淚t鈥檚 not really the bowling,鈥� he explains. 鈥淚t鈥檚 the camaraderie. They just love being here talking to everybody.鈥�
In a few hours the air will be thick with 3.5-pound thunder and the persistent rumble of the machines behind the lanes. But the place is oddly quiet Friday morning as Grubb reflects on the miles he鈥檚 walked in rented shoes.
鈥淭hose machines are 55 years old. They鈥檙e only supposed to last 30.鈥�
He鈥檚 talking about the pinsetting machines but he could be talking about anything in the place. He could be talking about the place.
鈥淚t鈥檚 kinda sad bowling鈥檚 going down,鈥� he says. 鈥淲omen used to bowl morning, afternoon and night. Now a lot of them can鈥檛 afford it. . . . How the hell can people afford to even live here, I don鈥檛 know.鈥�
Grubb remembers the era when North Shore Bowl was better than $10-a-day childcare.Walking through the backroom today you can see the cages where young mothers deposited their babies before heading out on the lanes. There was a crib, a row of desks, and horizontal slats where toddlers looked for their mothers and maybe rattled a cup or two along the bars.
鈥淲omen made the business,鈥� Grubb says.
Women strike!
On Wednesday mornings women between the ages of 30 and none-of-your-business take over North Shore Bowl.
Grubb ambles over to one team and asks if the reporter is bothering them.
鈥淵ou bother us, go back,鈥� Henny Bohlen retorts.
鈥淚鈥檓 gonna go somewhere where someone likes me,鈥� Grubb tells the women.
鈥淧ack a bag,鈥� Cathy Kuzel calls after him.
They both grin. That was a good one.
鈥淗e can be really gruff but he has got the biggest heart,鈥� Kuzel says once Grubb is safely out of earshot. The two have history, as Kuzel once volunteered at the counter when Grubb was swamped with wall-to-wall birthday parties. Off the lanes Kuzel is a business development strategist.
鈥淚 love my job,鈥� she says. 鈥淭his is the break.鈥�
Asked how long she鈥檚 been bowling there, Bohlen鈥檚 eyes flit toward the humming lights and does the math.
鈥淢y husband passed away . . . 18 years ago,鈥� she says. 鈥�18 years,鈥� she answers.
North Shore Bowl is a good place for comfort, explains teammate Darlene Hilden.
鈥淚t鈥檚 just a place where if you even have any issues . . . you鈥檝e got moms everywhere.鈥�
Asked why they keep coming here, Hilden smiles.
鈥淲e鈥檙e North Shore people,鈥� she says, by way of explanation. 鈥淚鈥檓 60 this year and I鈥檝e all my life been coming here.鈥�
As she鈥檚 talking, Bohlen, 86, notches her first strike of the day.
Sauntering back, Bohlen holds out her hand for a high-five and then another one.
鈥淚 gave you some,鈥� Hilden tells her.
鈥淚 want more,鈥� Bohlen replies.
She gets more.
These get-togethers used to happen at Thunderbird Lanes and at Park Royal but subsequent closures presented the bowlers with a dilemma, Kuzel says.
鈥淚t was either go across to Burnaby . . . or we switch to five-pin,鈥� she says.
They switched.
With the closure of North Shore Bowl imminent, the league might be able to move to the six-lane, 10-pin bowling alley set to open soon in Central Lonsdale, but Kuzel isn鈥檛 sure.
鈥淚 think this is going to be the end of the end,鈥� she says.
鈥淲e just get more and more people on the North Shore but less and less to do,鈥� she says as a teammate picks up a pencil and marks a spare. 鈥淚鈥檓 up, excuse me.鈥�
Ancient and modern history
First: a lie that tells the truth.
In the summer of 1588 King Philip II of Spain launched 130 ships carrying 2,500 guns against England. As the ships massed along the coastline, Francis Drake 鈥� who was vice-admiral of the English fleet 鈥� looked up from his bowling green and allegedly remarked: 鈥淚 have time to finish my game.鈥�
That quote has endured centuries not because it鈥檚 factual but because it feels true. On those nights where you鈥檙e throwing rocks, even the Spanish armada feels secondary.
While bowling has taken many forms in many countries, Purdue University bowling instructor Doug Wiedman traces the modern game to the holy rollers of the Middle Ages. Amidst church services the pins represented pagans and a good shot was a testament to the godliness of the bowler.
The Europeans who sailed to North America brought nine-pin bowling with them 鈥� although the godliness didn鈥檛 make it off the boat. Citing rapacious gamblers, the state of Connecticut banned nine-pin bowling in 1841. Ten-pin bowling, Wiedman suggests, was a born as a legal loophole.
鈥淣inepin? Certainly not! Officer, you can clearly count 10 pins on that lane.鈥�
On West Third Street, the first ball cracked the first pin in 1961.
It was about a dozen prime ministers ago (if you count Pierre twice), back when the south side of the block was dotted with vacant lots and jukeboxes were dominated by singers named Dee (Joey Dee, Dick & Dee Dee, Dee Clark, Dion).
According to the recollection of onetime bowling alley owner Bud Cawsey, there were about a half-dozen cops between Deep Cove and the Lions Gate Bridge and two Lower Lonsdale bowling alleys within walking distance.
聽鈥淭he North Shore was sparsely settled at that time,鈥� Cawsey recollected in a 1996 letter to the North 麻豆传媒映画Museum and Archives. 鈥淚 liked it just the way it was.鈥�
Cawsey owned Inman鈥檚 Bowling Salon at 403 Lonsdale Avenue, selling it to Ron France in 1958.
Speaking with reporters in the 1970s, France complained of inflated rents and competing with 鈥渟ubsidized recreations like curling and tennis.鈥�
鈥淚t鈥檚 always tempting to make more use of a building,鈥� he remarked at the time. 鈥淏owling does require an awful large area.鈥�
In 1974, the headline read: Inman鈥檚 Epitaph: The End of an Era.
鈥淔rance appreciates rather deeply the psychic impact that demolition will have on many of the older residents in Our Town,鈥� the elegiac reporter noted. 鈥淏ut business has gradually fallen off . . . as the bowling boom of the 1950s has never really returned.鈥�
You could hear a pin drop
North Shore Bowl endured because of good landlords, Grubb says, recalling a handshake deal that lasted years.
鈥淚f I鈥檓 not here, I don鈥檛 think anybody can run it,鈥� Grubb says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not because I鈥檓 great, it鈥檚 just that I care.鈥�
He also seems to love his work. Even a question like 鈥淗ow are you?鈥� is loaded when talking to Grubb.
鈥淎ny better I couldn鈥檛 stand it,鈥� he replies. 鈥淎ny better I鈥檇 be you. Any better you鈥檇 be twins.鈥�
He cleans up, he takes reservations and when a pin gets jammed in the elevator or a belt comes off the machinery, he or manager Neil Richards duck behind the lanes.
鈥淣eil and I know by the noise what鈥檚 wrong,鈥� Grubb says.
Whether it鈥檚 shovelling snow or telling a customer the way it is (鈥淭hat customer ain鈥檛 鈥榓lways right,鈥� that鈥檚 crap,鈥� Grubb intones), he鈥檚 done what he could to keep the place going.
A few years back the restaurant above the alley 鈥渢ried to fix the toilet,鈥� Grubb says, putting the emphasis on 鈥渢ried.鈥�
鈥淚 come here one morning: water coming down here you wouldn鈥檛 believe. Like Niagara Falls.鈥�
But after dealing with the mould and mildew and a restoration company, Grubb oversaw the installation of brand new lanes.
A few years after that he fell down near one of those lanes. He couldn鈥檛 get up.
Two days after his fall he had an operation that allowed him to keep walking and keep bowling.
鈥淚sn鈥檛 that lucky?鈥�
When bowlers walk in he mocks, flirts and cajoles, but he maintains that the most important thing he does is the first thing: 鈥淎ll you do, when they come down the stairs you say 鈥楬i.鈥� That鈥檚 all.鈥�
He鈥檚 got no problems with his longtime customers, he says. 鈥淭hey all know I鈥檓 full of shit.鈥�
When he heads to Keremos it鈥檒l be North Shore Bowl鈥檚 funeral. And time for a joke.
But, Grubb notes, behind a gas station on the outskirts of Keremeos there鈥檚 a little community centre.
And inside that? A bowling alley. He鈥檚 talking about rolling as the resident pro in Keremeos when the phone rings.
鈥淣orth Shore Bowl, can I help you? . . . Who? . . . Sean?鈥� Grubb asks.
He tells the caller it鈥檚 been the same phone number for 55 years but the woman seems determined to talk to Sean.
鈥淭his is a five-pin bowling centre,鈥� Grubb insists.
鈥淵ou wanna bowl?鈥�
