09/26/2025
It was a little restaurant/bar on Ridgewood Road across from the Ridgewood Stables in Sharon Center, Ohio. My dad would have called it a beer joint.
It was known by a few names depending on who owned it but most of us knew it as Crutchie's. Named after the original owner, Jim Crutchfield.
By day it was more a restaurant. Mrs. Johnson would cook you up a burger or a pizza.
But at night, especially on the weekends, it was a local coming of age hangout for kids in the 60's, 70's and 80's. It was where a lot of us bought our first legal beer. It was a cross between Cheers and Central Perk from Friends (but beer instead of coffee). There was friendship, romance, drama and occasionally a fight or two.
A place where we had Halloween parties, New Years celebrations and Browns football games on Sunday afternoons.
Not only was I a patron, I also had the pleasure of being your bartender for a short while in the early 80's.
The bar is long gone, but the memories will last forever. Please share your own memories and/or pictures. We could use a good profile picture.
I'll start it off with something I wrote.
Crutchie’s
It’s a Friday night,
A quarter till eight.
Gonna meet everybody,
Don't wanna be late.
On Ridgewood Road,
By the old Circle C.
A run-down old bar,
We all call Crutchie’s.
Old man Crutchfield,
He owns the place.
He knows every name,
He knows every face.
\
The gang will be there,
We all just got paid.
There might be a fight,
You might just get laid.
There’s pinball and foosball,
Arcade games and pool.
Or maybe you’re just,
A skee bowling fool.
The jukebox is playing,
The music is loud.
Not as loud as the laughter.
That comes from the crowd.
Make your way to the bar,
And get you a beer.
Take a sip, look around,
See who is all here.
A typical weekend,
The place is well packed.
Quarters lined on the pool rail,
Waiting their turn to rack.
PacMan waka wakas,
The pinball bells chime.
The crack of the pool balls,
‘Till it’s closing time.
And what’s that I see,
Setting up, I’m no liar,
It’s Mark with his guitar,
And the Crutchfield Choir.
Last call, “Drink ‘em up”.
Jim yells loud and hearty.
Everyone grab some beers,
There’s still time to party.
Down on Beach Road,
Find the trail that leads,
To a place where there's no corn,
Just a big patch of weeds.
Pull the trucks in a circle,
The music plays on.
Someone starts up a fire,
Like a light was turned on.
As the dawn soon approaches,
We start to head home,
Some with a friend,
Some all on their own.
Some will find morning,
A tough one to take.
Others will find that it’s,
Afternoon when they wake.
Now that bar is long gone,
All those days in the past.
All we’ve left are the memories,
And those memories last.
D.J. Barnett 06/21
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