By Dave Hoekstra
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A former beautician, Bert opened the Pinto Lounge in 1962, next to the Rock Island railroad tracks in downtown Tinley Park. He built the bar in the shape of a horseshoe, covered its edges with pinto hide and cattle brands, and mounted a Plexiglas spotted pinto on the roof. During the parades the pinto would come down off the roof and be mounted on a truck to follow behind Bert and Pronto, with a country-music combo bringing up the rear on a flatbed trailer. In 1995 Bert rode off into the sunset, a victim of emphysema and heart disease, but Betty, his wife for 40 years, took over the lounge. She’s finally sold it, to a pair of suburban entrepreneurs who are turning it into a jazz club and piano bar. Last call is this Saturday, but a week ago Sunday nearly 200 people turned out for a party to honor Betty and remember Bert.
The tavern’s original bar rests against the wall by the stage, embedded with over a thousand silver dollars donated by customers. On Saturdays Bert used to walk into the bar wearing a pinto-patterned cowboy getup and a holster with two cap guns. “He would drill holes in silver dollars and throw them up in the air,” Betty recalls. “And then he’d fire the guns to make believe he shot the silver dollars.” Other times Bert would sneak up behind a patron and shoot him in the butt.
The country band Crossfyre, longtime veterans of the local country scene, take the stage. Wayne Douglas, vocalist and guitarist for the band, played his first gig at the Pinto when he was 17. Now he’s 46. The band launches into Arleigh Duff’s classic “Y’All Come,” Bert’s old signature song at the end of the evening. The guests raise their hands and clap along as Douglas sings: “Kinfolks a-comin’, they’re comin’ by the dozen / Eatin’ ever’thing from soup to hay / And right after dinner, they ain’t lookin’ any thinner / And here’s what you hear them say: / Y’all come! Y’all come!…” Wally the lightbulb salesman tries to reclaim his bar space from the dog. Mac buys long-necked bottles of beer for his friends. And off in the shadows, Betty seems to be contemplating happy trails.
