A View From the Hill Top

The Hill Top Bar deserves a spot on the list of historical landmarks. It is one of the oldest, continuously operated businesses in Shelby Township, Michigan. You’ve never heard of it, but then again few people in Shelby Township have heard of it either. This extremely narrow hole-in-the-wall, built some time in the 1930’s, goes unnoticed because it is flanked on either side by strip malls with huge road signs. There is so much clutter and development that unless you knew what you were looking for… you’d never know what you were missing.

This location was not part of the itinerary for my week long vacation back home. And yet on my first night I found myself saddling up to the bar with my father.

The Hill Top Bar is just that- it is a bar. It is not a tavern, a saloon, a pub or any other alternative name given to an establishment that serves alcohol. It is most certainly not a club. It survives, decade after decade, off the business of just a handful of regulars- blue collar workers who come here after their shift at some automotive plant

Robyn, the only bartender on duty, hasn’t worked here very long. She got the job just a few months ago after being laid off from the nearby Ford plant. The career change took her from making 20 plus dollars an hour, to minimum wage plus tips. ” A lot of my friends are waiting for something better to come along, but I got a little baby girl at home,” she said pointing at a picture on the cash register, “I had to do something to pay the bills.”

My new friend had no problem talking about the troubled economy. The topic has become a favorite for far too many these days. People like telling you how much money they’ve lost on the stock market, or how long their retirement has been delayed because of a dwindling 401k or how lucky they are just to have a job.

Everywhere you go people are hurting, but you come here to Michigan and the pain just seems so much worse. They’ve been in this recession longer than the rest of the nation and the recovery will likely move slower here than anywhere else.

“So how many people here have lost their job?” I asked Robyn the question knowing that she knew all the regulars by name and knew exactly what each was going through.

She looked around the smoke filled room until her eyes rested on one man sitting on the opposite end of the bar. “You see that guy over there?” She gesturing toward a man who was wearing a Red Wing’s hat, sipping beer out of a bottle and talking to no one else. He clearly wanted to be left alone. He was having a miserable time “He is the only one who hasn’t been laid off.”

Just in sake of numbers alone the news was shocking. Eleven people were in the bar and all but one them were out of work.

You’d never know it by looking at them. They were having way too much fun; shooting darts, playing barroom shuffleboard and dancing to the jukebox.

Almost instantly I started to resent these people. How could they be unemployed and hanging out a bar? What a waste of money. It just seemed totally irresponsible. No wonder they lost their jobs.

My mood though changed when a pizza deliveryman walked through the door. One of the unemployed workers had ordered the food- the Hill Top has no kitchen.  I watched her pay the man, telling him to keep the change. She then walked around the bar going to each individual offering them a slice. On the surface she was sharing just food, but in reality it was so much more than that.

When someone loses their job they lose more than just a paycheck, in reality they lose a part of their personality- a part of their identity. Who we are is too often defined by what we do. When you are suddenly doing nothing it is as if you have become nothing.

That is exactly what these people in the Hill Top are going through. And so they come to this bar, come here after spending the day worried about the bills and the mortgage, to get away and remove themselves from all the uncertainty.  They come here because in this place they are not alone. During the day, as they desperately search for jobs, it may seem that what happened to them was somehow their own fault and yet here at night they’re reminded that the blame belongs on circumstances beyond their own control- beyond anyone’s control. By sharing a beer, and a few slices of pizza, the regulars at the Hill Top are really engaging in community therapy.

As I watched the crowd interact, as I heard them laugh and at least for a moment forget about their situation, my feelings against them suddenly disappeared. Technically they were all strangers, and yet I knew them all so well. Their faces were those of so many childhood friends who went on to work for one of the big three. To land such a job meant a promising life and so much security. Somewhere, at some other neighborhood bar, I wondered how many of my old friends were drinking away their sorrow.

My eyes roamed around the room and finally went back to the stranger at the end of the bar. I suddenly knew why he looked so miserable- why clearly was not enjoying himself. I think he was sitting there wondering if he’d be next.