Interesting People on the Fringe: This Week - Jen and Pete Adam!

This week we don’t just have one interesting person from the fringe, but instead, an interesting couple, Jen and Pete Adam. Both used to work at the same bar at which I disk-jockeyed back in college, the now defunct, Top of the Town, which, like many college bars, had a harder time making a go of it after the drinking age in Iowa was raised from 19 to 21 and the people that were "grandfathered" in left town. As of the last dispatch I have received from Ames regarding this and it’s sister nightspot, That Place, once labeled “An Ames Institution”, both had been converted into an antique store, which in a way is kind of appropriate, as That Place was a large “closet” for the owner, Bill Jeppsen, to display his motley collection of antique junk. Filled with old signs, outdated farm equipment and covered in vintage magazine advertisements, he even had a dusty, old, canvas-covered monoplane hanging from the ceiling, but the mythology concerning it was confused. Some said the thing never flew, some said it only flew once. Perhaps the location on Main Street is something else these days. Would an Ames correspondent be so kind as to comment?

Jen Diveny, who was a dental hygienist in Ames, worked part-time as a waitress and later as a bartender at Top of the Town. I first met her after returning from a six-week, summer Army stint at Fort Lewis, Washington, back in 1989. I mentioned to Jen when I met her that I had heard she was a current concubine of Stingray, the benevolent dictator himself, and I think she provided the kind of no attachments booty that made for a good arrangement for both of them, or well, at least for Stingray. She was rather taken aback that I knew this information, but as I became a DJ at the establishment that fall, their back-door relationship, so to speak, was evident one evening as we were drinking pitchers of Bud after cleaning up the bar. Stingray and Jen had disappeared, and then returned, and her what I think once were white jeans were covered with pitch from the roof. They must have been checking out the roof for possible leaks. God bless 'em.

When I was in the DJ booth, Jen was my favorite bartender, as she kept me amply supplied with complimentary Jack and cokes the entire evening, which sometimes led to interesting DJ banter at 1:30 in the morning. Coke was the key to the drink, as we weren’t supposed to drink on the job, so for all appearances it was just cola, but even so, this on-the job imbibing was usually winked off by the management as long as control was maintained. The only time I really had a problem was after an entire afternoon of hanging out at Paul Miller’s music store in Campustown, drinking beers and eating Rolled Gold rods, followed by an evening of work. As was verified by colleagues later, my mixes were “highly original” and “flowing”, but I was pretty obnoxious on the microphone as the evening progressed. Oh well.

Later, in 1990, Jen’s boyfriend, then fiancé, later husband, Pete Adam, started working at the bar as a DJ as well. I remember one evening sitting at the Top bar early on with Pete and Greg Smith, whose name you may recognize from quickly-deleted “forbidden” post of a few weeks ago. Pete was annoyed that some dude was sitting in the middle of the bar and constantly harassing Jen, calling her some really nasty names and such, stuff like “Hurry up with my beer, bitch!” I thought this was uncalled for, and I asked Pete why he didn’t confront the dude and ask him to stop. He said he didn’t want to cause a big scene, since he worked there and all, but after a few drinks I decided to ask the dude myself why he kept harassing Jen. I stepped up to him, tapped him gently on the shoulder, and questioned, “Why are you giving her such a hard time,” at which point he sprang off of his barstool facing me directly in a confrontational manner. Surprised at this turn of events, my reaction was pretty quick and decisive, as I sent my left fist through his head. He hit the floor. I turned to Jen and said, “Shot!“ at which point she set me up lickety-split with a shot of Jägermeister, like a good bartender in a Hollywood western. Lightning fast, Mike from behind the bar dragged the dude outside; the former patron was suffering from a broken nose. Pete was laughing his ass off as Greg asked, "What happened?" Greg missed the whole thing apparently. There was a nice shot of sprayed blood on Pete and Greg’s shirtsleeves from the punch to provide Greg with verification that something had indeed happened. The cops came in looking for the perpetrator, but since I was, I think, morally justified here, and the bar employees were all friends of mine, no one knew who did it. They kept me covered. You’ve got to appreciate co-workers like that. Jake, the manager, told me later next week that I shouldn’t kick customers’ asses in the bar, but after I explained to him the circumstances, he thought it was probably justified as well.

Jen and Pete got married in the fall of 1990, I think, and my roommate, Guy, and I were invited. I remember attending the ceremony, although I can’t recall the reception (I may have had to work - it was an afternoon wedding), and I think that was maybe one of the last times I saw them both. After Pete graduated from ISU, they left town, and I haven’t seen them since.

Jen and Pete, wherever you are…may your roof never leak!