Drunk Man Talking

Apr 17

Guest article by Lombard House publican Brian Koch about his friend, the late, beloved Portland bartender Chris (King C.) Ensign:

There is nothing to say. That’s how I feel when trying to figure out where to begin attempting to describe my friend, my hero, my buddy Chris. He was, is and always will be the King, King C. He didn’t have much to say, until he did, and then you’d be wise to listen. He had a way with words, and he didn’t take them lightly, and neither should you. You knew he loved you, you knew what he was thinking, and you knew he was in charge of the room, all while making us feel like we were his welcome guests. He was a gentle giant, a true bar man, a lover, a friend to all, a brother, a son, an uncle. He was one of a kind.

Chris was my first bartender, on my fir

st visit to Portland, while holding it down at the Lucky Lab on Hawthorne. His affable personality, amazing voice, and honest assessment of my stupid plan to move to Portland was stuck in my head before I finally did just that. Once I moved here, I sought out my favorite Portland bartender. We bonded over our mutual love of too much iced coffee, “one more” pint, and our fondness for smoking weed and listening to music.

Chris ran the room at a list of places that defined beer in a city that did a lot to help define beer. He also put in the work. He was a consummate professional in an industry full of maniacs and lunatics. I witnessed him cut off countless people over the years, and he always did so leaving that person with their dignity. However, if you we being a “drunk man talking”, he would cut you down to your shoe laces, and then bring you back into the fold, slowly, sternly, but again, with kindness. And with that beautiful, bellowing laugh.

I tend to think that Chris died of a broken heart, because when the bars closed , and his flock of drunkards and dreamers all went home, he was lost. He had a bunch of very real medical problems at the time of his passing, and I mean no ill will when saying that. But he lived in a world where he was a master of his craft, and its heartbreaking to lose that.

Again, there is nothing to say. He would probably hate this. He was a veteran of the spoken word scene, a wordsmith, a master of his craft. There are no words that I possess that can properly convey the enormous gap in my heart that I have felt since we lost him. So we are just going to party. Tuesday would be King C’s birthday. We will be throwing a party every year on April 18th to celebrate the life of our friend. Please come join us this Tuesday at 5pm as we start what will become a yearly tradition of celebrating the life, the laugh, the man, the King!

Love you King C!

(I would like to thank Amy Welch and Tim Ensign for giving me permission to host this event and to write this. I purposely left them out of this because their thoughts on this are their own.)