Provided by Casino Marousi – Καζίνο Μαρούσι
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To find out what is being served at the Casino in the town of Bodega, go to www.facebook.com/thecasinobarandgrill and www.instagram.com/casinobarandgrill.
About three hours into the party Monday afternoon, there was little room to park, no room to sit and barely room to stand.
Crowds at the bar were standing three deep. Still more were on the outdoor patio and front porch, spilling onto Bodega Highway.
And it seemed almost pointless to try to make contact with the woman of the hour — she had a line to reach her, too.
Standing shy of 5-feet tall and perched at the end of the bar, Evelyn “Evie” Casini was nearly imperceptible among the hordes. But the line of greeters and well-wishers gave her location away.
This was a birthday party, yes, with food and cake, drinks and singing, but it was not Casini’s big day. That comes in October, when she’ll turn 98.
This fete was a birthday party for The Casino bar and grill, which Casini and her husband, Art, took over in 1949. Art Casini died in 1983.
So Monday marked a diamond anniversary of sorts.
In the run up to the anniversary, I asked Casini if she was excited about the grand party.
“I’m too old to get excited,” she said.
Plus, she said, at her age too much excitement might not be the best thing.
“Well, if you want my heart to stop,” she said. “Then we could have a wake, not a party. It’s OK with me, more of a grand exit.”
It was a 75th birthday, but The Casino has been in the Casini family for well more than a century. It began as a general store, morphed into a saloon and restaurant, and is generally considered the center of the Bodega universe.
Both Art and Evelyn were born in Bodega — Art in the house next door to The Casino and Evelyn at a house on Bay Hill Road 10 years later — so it makes perfect sense that they would take over (from Art’s brother) operation of a place that is called a bar and grill but is deemed by many as the de facto hub of this bustling city of about 200 people.
Evelyn and Art, married in 1946, bought The Casino three years later. On July 1, to be exact.
“I’ve been here ever since,” she said.
There was a period in there when Evelyn leased the place to a longtime bartender. But even during that four-ish-year period, Evelyn worked a shift.
When the barkeep and his wife decided to move to Oregon, Evelyn came back full time.
“I’ve always worked here,” she said.
Even at the party Monday, Evelyn worked. Even when she took a break to dance to some lives tunes by Train Wreck Junction, she was working. Even when she was greeting well-wishers, one of them asked her to refill his brandy and seven because the line at the bar was so long.
She obliged. Always working.
Evelyn has presided over a place that changed not a whole lot over the years.
There are a few video games in the corner and the restrooms are labeled “Adam” and “Eve.” Two pool tables dominate the front bar area and heavy wooden dining tables are in the side room, infamously labeled the “Dinning” room by a painter who spells worse than I do.
There are photos on the wall — portraits of Art and Evelyn, school photos from the 1930s — as well as those picture collage frames that feature about 20 cutouts that you sometimes see on the wall of a family cabin.
Because in a way, The Casino has the vibe of a family cabin. Except this cabin has a menu.
In addition to the offerings of a full bar, The Casino kitchen serves the standards: Burgers and cheeseburgers, grilled cheese and tuna fish. But in recent years, they have brought in more sophisticated fare on Friday, Saturday and Sundays, currently being created by The Holly & Tali Show catering.
Think wild salmon and romesco sauce, marinated flank steak and chimichurri, and apricot almond cake with sour cream.
Evelyn and Art remodeled The Casino after they took over, and for years it looked just as it had after that initial paint job.
But back in 1992, on the eve of Casini’s Oct. 1 birthday, her pals hatched a plan.
Turns out Evelyn had been coveting a bit of a makeover of her place, back to the way it was just after she and Art bought it.
So while Evelyn was away for a few days in Portland, the town rallied. Folks brought paint and brushes, stain and rollers. By the time Evelyn returned a few days later, the makeover was complete.
Such is the place that The Casino — and particularly Evelyn — holds in folks’ hearts.
She’s clearly beloved, but also, don’t mess with her.
Evelyn may not reach 5-feet tall but she looms large.
I asked if she’s ever had to boot a friend from the premises. It is, after all, a bar.
She laughed. And quickly said, of course. She told me she’s kicked her own kids out.
Once, she said, she sent a grandson packing. As she tells the story, the young fellow told his mom the next day that grandma gave him the boot. And mom replied: “Well, what did you do?”
But she’s also one for second chances. People mess up, get sent off, but she allows the contrite back in.
Except for one or two.
There have been one or two folks Evelyn has shown the door and in no uncertain terms made clear they are not to return.
Like the guy years ago who sneaked his own bottle of whiskey into The Casino and proceeded to get ornery drunk. When a fight broke out outside, the contraband bottle was used as a weapon, she said.
An investigation ensued. But Evelyn pointed out to the inquiring Sonoma County Sheriff’s deputy that she doesn’t buy booze in bottles that size. Case closed.
Years later, the instigator of that event returned to The Casino, ordered a beer and asked Evelyn if she recognized him. Nope. He reminded her, thinking she might find the reunion amusing.
She didn’t.
“I told him, ‘I sold you that beer, so you can finish it, but then you have to leave,’” she said.
She never saw him again.
And there was the time that a group of regulars were sitting at the well-worn bar, while a stranger sat at the end by the kitchen. The new guy started to get mouthy.
He called Evelyn an expletive-filled name not fit for these pages.
“Right to my face,” she said.
The regulars — in unison — made moves to stand up. But Evelyn simply held up her hand.
“I said, ‘I recommend you leave and don’t ever come back,’” she said.
The offending man left and the regulars settled back into their stools.
Evelyn is an excellent storyteller. She winks when she lands a good one.
She regularly and rhythmically pounds the wooden table with her coffee cup — she takes it black — when she weaves a yarn. In this way, it’s hard to notice that she’s missing half her pinky finger on her right hand.
So I asked.
Turns out her older brother Buck — she had four brothers — was to blame, she said.
Buck had a year on Evelyn, who was maybe 4 at the time. They were chopping kindling, and as the elder kid, Buck got to wield the axe. Evelyn was left to sweep the pieces off the stump after each blow.
She was doing so, telling her brother that these particular pieces were small enough, but Buck didn’t get the message and let the axe fall.
“Whack,” she said.
She doesn’t remember much pain, but she does remember teasing Buck because he had to stay home while her mother rushed her to the doctor in town.
And she definitely remembers the doctor looking at the piece of her pinky dangling from the rest, clipping it free and dropping it into the trash can.
You know, the kind of waste bin with a foot-triggered lid.
“I remember the sound of that damn trash can,” she said.
Today Evelyn lives up the hill from The Casino, very near Potter School where she studied through eighth grade after attending Bay Hill School.
She graduated from Tomales High School but opted not to go any further. That would have meant moving to the city, she said.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m just a country girl. Things might not have been the same.”
It was fitting that she found a local to wed.
After Art died, Evelyn had no interest in finding anyone new.
“I don’t want any offers. I got it right the first time,” she said. “I figure I couldn’t do it twice.”
So she hangs out at her place, where she usually works a decent part of the day and is by all accounts revered. The overflow crowd on Monday, celebrating both The Casino, but also it’s legendary owner, tells us so.
And Evelyn, between a bit of dancing, a bit of bar keeping and a whole lot of greeting well-wishers, ate it up.
“I’m satisfied with my life,” she said.
You can reach Staff Columnist Kerry Benefield at 707-526-8671 or

ke*************@pr***********.com











. On Instagram @kerry.benefield.
To find out what is being served at the Casino in the town of Bodega, go to www.facebook.com/thecasinobarandgrill and www.instagram.com/casinobarandgrill.

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