By Cody Neathery

Special Contributor

Another beloved Dallas dive bar in an historic East Dallas building could be on the edge of extinction. An East Dallas favorite, The Elbow Room, sits in the path of a bulldozer meant to make room for a new dental school owned by Texas A&M University.

Like a tough warrior on his last leg, this old building has survived a last stand before. According to new owner, Rosalie Nagy, three years ago the bar shuttered because of tax issues from prior ownership. Edward Sigmond was forced to close, although allowed to file for bankruptcy to retain the building under an entity other than a bar, says Nagy. That’s when she and husband Joe, longtime customers, swooped in to save this drinkery, one of the last remaining historic dives Dallas has to offer.

But the situation now mirrors an incomplete puzzle of legal woes and real estate rights.

Approximately a year ago, says Nagy, a buyer approached Sigmond about selling the adjacent parking lot, and Sigmond sued the Nagys as a maneuver to get them to vacate the building. This violated the lease agreement between the two parties, and the lawsuit was dismissed. And now Texas A&M University (TAMU) has approached Sigmond for purchase of both parking lot and The Elbow Room.

“With price negotiations at a stalemate, TAMU has now conveyed a threat of eminent domain, meaning they’re planning to take the property regardless of an agreed upon sell price with Sigmond,” Nagy says. “As the case goes before the State for division, the city of Dallas will likely stay out of this, as taxing a multi-million dollar dental school is more profitable than taxing a century-old building.”

Legally, when the threat of eminent domain is used, it’s the responsibility of the purchaser to help the business relocate, according to Nagy.

“But due to the incorrect wording of our lease with Sigmond, TAMU won’t assist in bar relocation or outstanding debts,” Nagy says. “They sent an email stating our 20 year lease ends August 31st, then another saying it may be a few more months,” she added. “Either way, they’ve been very, very difficult and will not respond to us.”

I contacted Laylan Copelin, Vice Chancellor of marketing and communications at The Texas A&M University System, who sent this statement from Holly Shive, public relations director, government and public affairs:

“On April 27, 2016, The Texas A&M University System Board of Regents authorized initiation of eminent domain proceedings, if needed, to acquire two contiguous parcels of improved property in the City of Dallas totaling less than one-fourth acre. Since that time, the A&M System has been negotiating with the property owner in an attempt to acquire the property. If the property cannot be acquired by mutual agreement, eminent domain proceedings will be initiated. The acquisition of this property will allow for construction of a new clinical education building to address the state’s need for additional health care professionals — enabling a 25 percent increase in dental school enrollment—and to expand dental services to the community. The Texas A&M University College of Dentistry is the largest oral health care provider in the region, already serving 100,000 patient visits per year, with an additional 40,000 able to be served in this new facility.”

“We have worked hard to preserve the original feel of this well-known dive bar with success,” Nagy says. “It is my understanding the building is over 94 years old [the painted logo reads EST. 1910] and the bar itself has been around for over 30 to 50-plus years, depending who you ask. But, TAMU is gunning for the property, and since Sigmond still owns the building, there’s nothing we can do to keep this iconic bar open.”

That would make The Elbow Room one of the oldest bars in Dallas.

After Dallas lost part of its boozy history with the demolition of Club Schmitz (since 1946) in 2014 for a gas station, Dallas’ oldest continuously operating bar, Pastime Tavern — since 1937, four years after Prohibition’s end — quietly closed after one last New Year’s Eve hurrah. Loyal customers and newbies swarmed Pastime that night to pay final respects, all gathered to breathe in the remnants of an era that’s slipping away.

“I have a lot of memories I’ll never get back,” says Harry Hall, who owned Pastime Tavern for more than three decades. “It came to finances, and when MAC owner Claude Albritton bought this property he said, ‘You can stay here, but you won’t be able to afford it.’ Once we close, a bar will never be open here again because the close proximity to the school. We were grandfathered in.”

On Pastime’s final evening, Hall paused and glanced around the room of patrons with a solemn look of someone who poured their life into their business and said, “Only once were guns pulled against a would be robber. Never had any other issues while I was here.”

What is the cost of losing these nostalgic institutions that form the fragile historical fabric of our city?

Irreplaceable character, architecturally speaking, but also employees who are as intertwined in our history as the business itself. Pastime Tavern was the epitome of old, and it dared not step foot into the 20th century.

In 2015, the fate of lower Greenville’s nautical-themed dive, Ships Lounge (since 1947), resembled a year-long pingpong match after former owner Charlie “Red” Hunt locked the door last summer with a promise to reopen in a month under new ownership. But the neighborhood didn’t seem keen on seeing Ships return as a bar that’s open until 2 a.m., as Ships had been operating for decades.

Leading the charge against Ships Lounge and its late-night hours: the Lower Greenville Neighborhood Association. In a December Dallas Morning News story , it became clear just how messy the fight was getting:

… longtime plan commissioner Neil Emmons, who represents that corner of Lower Greenville, told the commission that the LGNA was “prepared to spill blood” had (Zoning consultant Audra) Buckley not pulled the application. “The ship has sailed,” said Emmons, referring to previous owner Charlie Hunt. Ships has a new owner, said Emmons, “let’s see how bright he is.”

Why should families have the final word in a business that has held the same spot for more than 60 years, long before developers gentrified the area? Recently, word came of a new future for the dive when the bar announced on Facebook that Ships will reopen on July 13. D Magazine reports that the dive’s new owners are Matt Pikar, owner of Nora and co-owner of Dallas Beer Kitchen, and his business partner, Naser Nayeb. According to D, the new incarnation of Ships will close at midnight.

After developer Tim Headington razed historic downtown buildings in September 2014, the uproar was loud enough to prompt Mayor Mike Rawlings and David Preziosi, executive director of Preservation Dallas, to form a task force constructing a most endangered list regarding our city’s historic infrastructure and enacted new rules guaranteeing a demolition delay of 10 days when a building exceeds 50 years old. This came into play when an 1885 Victorian home in the Cedars was all but ready for the claws of the bulldozer parked out front when Cedars resident and former neighborhood president Michael Przekwas caught onto its impending fate. Time Warner Cable was set to plow this home to build a parking lot. During a meeting at City Hall in February, TWC claimed it would help them expand and supply a faster internet service to customers. No house = superior Internet? Preservationists forfeited the historic designation label after TWC promised to relocate the home elsewhere in the neighborhood .

We are slowly making progress in the preservation of our historic neighborhoods, homes and buildings, but they continue to fall when situated outside of historically designated districts. With each closure being tied to new development, expanding our historic districts is crucial. Once the anchor of the African American community, not even Deep Ellum is protected. As long as the word “progress” is used, it will never matter to those it should matter most to: our officials. Those tasked with looking out for Dallas and her yesteryear. Although most of these closings are owner-initiated, if we can’t count on our city to take a more proactive stance on the preservation of our framework, how can we expect historic dive bars to be saved?

We may never know the historical events that took place within their walls — the business deals brokered or turned sour, or how many relationships started or ended in the tattered booth in the dark corner. How many musicians penned their next hit song over chain-smoked cigarettes, or the reasons behind brawls that spilled into the street after too much whiskey. How many soldiers relived the dangers of overseas tours, safely perched on a bar stool? How many of these bars comforted us in times of sorrow, yet helped us celebrate in times of success?

These aren’t just memories from a tossed-away has been, these memories define us all — and what good are memories if there’s no place for them to call home?