This story is part of an occasional KCUR series called The Regulars, about Kansas City’s neighborhood hangouts and the customers who bring them to life.
Leaning over, elbow drawn back, Danny O’Brien steadies his gaze as he lines up a shot for the corner pocket. Above him, a wooden plaque displays the “House Rules”: no betting, no jump shots, mind your manners.
Tuning out the Aretha Franklin song spilling out of the jukebox behind him, O’Brien locks in on the white cue ball inches away from his face.
“It’s almost like breathing,” says O’Brien. “It’s like, notice the whole breath — the whole pool stroke. It’s like in and out, back and forth. It showed me a lot of insights into what I can take away from the pool table.”
Every Tuesday night for the last two years, “no matter what,” O’Brien has driven to Chartreuse Saloon in Kansas City’s Crossroads Arts District for a game of pool with his friend Corey Mertes.
“[I was ] just driving by and saw the pool tables in the window and was hypnotized, like, ‘I have to go there,'” says O’Brien.
Open since 2021, Chartreuse Saloon is one in a string of craft cocktail ventures from veteran bartender Jill Cockson, who also had a hand in Swordfish Tom’s nearby in the Crossroads and the James Beard Award-nominated Drastic Measures in Shawnee.
In addition to its drinks and steady stream of oldies music, Chartreuse has carved out a niche for itself with free-to-play pool tables — and regular eight-ball tournaments — that attract competitors from across the metro. It’s easy to see the bar’s namesake: The walls, pool greens, and hanging ferns all emanate the color.
But the interior decoration leans eclectic, with longhorn skulls, saloon doors and neatly arranged black-and-white photos paying homage to the Wild West. Behind the bar, colorful plastic Happy Meal toys, taped up dollar bills and sticker-plastered fridges evoke a different kind of nostalgia.
Back at the table where O’Brien shoots, Mertes chalks the end of his cue, readying for his turn. Fortunately, their preferred game of 14.1 — where players try to pocket as many balls as possible, regardless of color or number — takes around two hours. O’Brien says that gives the pair plenty of time to discuss every matter under the sun.
“We keep ourselves up to date,” says O’Brien. “He’ll pull out these plastic films — ‘you need to see this’ — and we’re both obviously fans of ‘The Hustler’ with Paul Newman.”
The pair has this bar to thank for their friendship. One night, while taking turns playing a “hotshot” opponent, the two struck up a conversation.
“He introduced himself as a writer and I was like, ‘Oh, OK, who's this guy?’” O’Brien recalls.
Across the room, Mertes’ published book of short stories is tucked on top of the bar.
“For some reason, he just turned to me, he's like, ‘We’re so even, we're so even,’” O’Brien says of Mertes. “And he kept saying that and I think we knew that we were just going to be learning this game together.”
Cockson and her bartenders offer the same high caliber of cocktails found at her other establishments, but the food menu is short and to-the-point.
Their specialty? Nachos.
“I dream about those nachos — it's worth the drive,” says Jon McElwee, who makes the one-hour journey from Lawrence for pool tournaments.
Hungry players can customize their own, with meat and vegetarian offerings like chicken, pork, and jackfruit, and assorted toppings like lime crema, nacho cheese, and bar’s signature spicy “Chartreuse juice.”
McElwee and his friend, Jonathan “Troy” Dunn — together referred to as “The Jons” — have been coming to Chartreuse for two years to compete for the tournament’s cash prizes.
“As soon as we came in, I feel like they treated us like we’d been coming in for years already, and remembered our names for the next time we were here,” McElwee says. “It is a really good environment.”
On that particular tournament night, one Thursday in April, the Jons were among about a dozen players gathered at Chartreuse. Half the patrons were absorbed in tense matches, while the rest perched on barstools joking and waiting for their turn to be called by the host.
The Jons, both industrial designers at Garmin, like to practice pool during lunchtime at a local bar near their office.
“Then we’ll come to these tournaments and then we’ll get our asses kicked,” says McElwee.
Customers looking to try their hand at other games can visit the dartboards and painted chess tables lining the edge of the room, but the bar’s crown jewels are three top-of-the-line Diamond pool tables.
“Those are regulation pool tables, so if you can shoot on a nine-foot regulation pool table — if you catch anybody in a bar — you should be able to run the table, no problem,” says Phi-Del Blocker, a Wednesday night regular of two years. “They have the best tables in the city.”
Nearby, Blocker’s cousin, Rel Reed, and uncle, Willie Blocker, chalk the end of their cues at the counter. Blocker says they’ve made pool a family tradition for decades, starting in a strip club on Independence Avenue before they migrated to Chartreuse post-pandemic.
“I’m always the first person in here on Wednesdays, so it's like I’m at home. They open at 4 — I’m here at 4," Blocker says. “This is sacred to me.”
When he arrives, Blocker doesn’t need any extra time to figure out his order. In fact, he already has one named after himself.
“It's called the 'Phli Special,'“ he says. “My name is Phli in the streets — everybody calls me Phli. The Phli Special is two (hot) dogs, everything on it, and two sodies. You can go to the bar and ask for the Phli Special and they’ll know exactly what you’re talking about. But it's the way I like it: mustard, ketchup, relish, pickled jalapenos, and onions.”
The green-walled bar has weathered more than its share of rocky events: It opened in the middle of the pandemic, and most recently, found itself smack-dab in the possible demolition footprint for the proposed Royals ballpark.
After the Royals announced their intention to construct a stadium in the Crossroads, which would have required taking over several blocks of businesses, “vote no” signs began greeting customers at Chartreuse’s entrance and bar. Cockson became one of the most prominent business owners campaigning against the Jackson County sales tax extension vote, which would have green-lit the Royals plan.
And, on the night of the April 2 election, the bar hosted a packed watch party for KC Tenants, which also opposed the tax. The “no” vote prevailed.
“The energy in that room was something else,“ says O’Brien. “Everyone was just floating. It was like an after-school special, like, ‘We saved the place.’”
Long-term regulars Asia Campos and Drew Gutierrez are among the many couples who can be found at Chartreuse, hanging around the pool tables and sharing a plate of nachos covered in pico de gallo and lime crema.
“We play in a competitive pool league, we practice here minimum one day a week as a team,” Campos says.
Campos says one of her most cherished memories happened at Chartreuse, when three friends from different areas of her life — including an old college friend and an ex-coworker — all came into the bar on the same night, completely by accident.
“It's funny because none of them play pool,” Campos says. “They heard about Chartreuse because I told them about Chartreuse. I just kept getting to see people I loved, and so my cheeks started to hurt by the end of the night. And…I’m just like, this is the best. This is the best thing ever."
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