Dead are the days when Arcata’s fabled “Tavern Row” stood proud on the plaza, a line of bars with only a liquor store at the end of the street to break up the pattern. Of that original row, only Everett’s remains, the others out of business, some by choice, some by force. 

Last year, the Jam was one of the last holdouts to go, towards its end plagued by a seedy reputation and a frequent police prescence. But in its place is now the Wild Hare Tavern, a drink, food and music venue scrubbed clean of its predecessor’s sins, a totally blank slate. 

“It wasn’t, in my opinion, someplace I’d want my kids to hang out in,” Wild Hare Tavern owner Angela Robershotte told the Outpost.

Robershotte opened the bar in late December after six weeks of backbreaking labor went into redecorating and fixing flooring and repairing appliances and dealing with the health department and clearing out decades of detritus. It was a process that yielded little except boxes of moldy pasta, but did turn up an old vinyl recording of an album one of the original Jambalaya’s owners recorded, with handwritten liner notes and classic ‘70s cartoon styling on the front. 

Getting the bar going is brutal work. Robershotte started by working 10 hours a day to get the place moving, then 12, followed by 14, now up to 16 hours of work a day. She hasn’t had the time yet to take down her Christmas tree. 

“You just get a nap in when you can,” Robershotte said with a very short laugh.

She’s worked in Arcata’s bar scene for 30 years, starting with the now-defunct Sidelines sports bar. Robershotte has worked for many of Arcata’s dens of iniquity at some point or another, taking time off occasionally to raise her kids. Toby and Jack’s, Abruzzi, Everett’s, and most recently the Basement were all employers. 

In 2024, Robershotte decided the time was right to go into business for herself. 

“I had two jobs, and three jobs, and I was working 65 hours a week between my regular job and the Basement,” Robershotte said. “And I just said, ‘You know what? If I’m going to work 65 hours a week, it might as well be something that I want to do.’”

She feels the work has been worth it so far, even though she hadn’t been able to cook for herself or her son at home since Christmas until last week. The only things left are minor touch-ups. 

The Wild Hare Tavern, as it currently stands, sits in a nebulous vortex. It has no brand yet, outside of being “that place where the Jam used to be.” Though Robershotte has complete freedom to create that identity, giving it a new one is hard, especially because Jam had been around for so long. Even the name doesn’t have much of a story to it, outside of Robershotte’s idea to own a bar being a bit of a “wild hare”, a crazy plan. There isn’t one set group of people yet that hound the Tavern, no stereotypes to assign to it. Robershotte doesn’t see that as a weakness, however; she’s not trying to pander to any one group of people. She doesn’t want her bar to be exclusive to any one particular demographic. 

Robershotte’s trying to give everyone a reason to check the Tavern out. She’s had a wide variety of bands and DJs perform, though at the start it was hard to find musicians on short notice. A self-described people pleaser after decades working in the service industry, she’s open to suggestions. There’s something different every night, but she made it clear there will never be a karaoke night — partially because everyone does karaoke, but mostly because she hates it. 

“It’s always a few super, super drunk people that are over-served,” Robershotte said. “That’s too much. I feel like there’s not a safe limit at some points. And then there’s a large group of people that really want to be good, and so they don’t drink at all. And then there’s people who come just to check it out, such a weird group of daredevils, and people that can’t sing, but want to perform, it’s just — I’m not interested.”

Not all of the Jam’s DNA has been extracted. Robershotte managed to find and install the Jambalaya’s original mahogany bar, replacing the Jam’s concrete. It was separated into three pieces in a barn and covered with ancient chewed gum before its resuscitation; now it sits shiny, the centerpiece of a clean place to get a drink, which is exactly what Robershotte wanted it to be. 

“I want my business to be a wide demographic place where people want to be, and be successful at that,” Robershotte said. “Maybe be the go-to place for people that want to jump around on a Friday night and feel safe in their space and be silly.”