It was just after 8 on a Saturday night and Tom Nolasco was right where he wanted to be.
The 73-year-old reached for the door of Karen & Jim’s Restaurant, swapping chirping birds in the evening sun for someone singing an off-key version of Ariana Grande’s “Bang Bang.” Lights were blinking and food was frying, the windowless lounge of the Casper karaoke bar nearly empty.
Nolasco was alone. He walked slowly toward the lady standing behind the DJ booth, trailing his Wild Country cologne past a table of blondes.
He wore a black dress shirt and black pants, a red handkerchief sprouting from his back pocket. On this night, his fedora of choice was checkered black and white and adorned with red and yellow feathers.
“Hey Tom!” the DJ, Mandy St. John said, wrapping Nolasco in a hug.
People are also reading…
He hunched over the table and reached for the yellow request slip. He removed a notebook from his front pocket, flipped to the page with songs and copied them down.
Weekdays can be slow for the retired construction worker living in a senior residence community. He cooks meals, volunteers and sings in his church choir.
But not Friday and Saturday nights.
This is where you’ll find Nolasco. From 8 p.m. to 2 a.m. he sits in the corner of the bar, flirting with Mandy and co-owner/bartender Karen Kanelos, impatiently waiting his turn to sing.
“Sometimes, during the week, I sit and think to myself, it’s Tuesday,” Nolasco said. “I’ve got three more days (until karaoke).”
Nolasco gripped the bar counter and carefully hoisted himself toward a seat, ensuring his behind was aligned with the red cushion before letting go.
“How are you doing?” Karen asked, the 49-year-old blonde flashing a bubbly smile.
“I’ll take the usual.”
“Shake?”
“Strawberry.”
Nolasco doesn’t drink alcohol. He used to, but it’s not good for his epilepsy. He moved to Casper when he was 5. When he was 30, his friends introduced him to karaoke.
“And boy, did I get hooked.”
He lived in Casper for more than 45 years before relocating to El Paso, Texas, with his wife. He spent 20 years there, sometimes singing at karaoke bars five or six nights a week. He’s single now. He’s been married and divorced four times. A few months ago, one of Nolasco’s sons asked him to move back to Casper. So he did.
Karen delivered the milkshake. Someone finished singing, “Life is a Highway,” and Nolasco clapped. He always does.
“Because I want them to clap for me,” he said.
There were fewer than 15 people in the lounge at 8:33 p.m. when Mandy introduced the next singer.
“And now, please welcome to the stage ... Tom,” she said in her sultry voice.
Nolasco gripped the seat cushion and pushed himself free. He took the microphone, stood in the stage area and stared at the screen. The tunes of Don Gibson’s 1957 hit “Oh, Lonesome Me,” filled the room.
Nolasco tapped his feet and sang in a sandpaper voice. Two people watched.
Everybody’s goin’ out and a-havin’ fun
I’m just a fool for stayin’ home and havin’ none
I can’t get over how she set me free
Ohhhhh, lonesome me.
When he finished, three people clapped. He moved slowly back to his chair and ordered a plate of onion rings.
“You’re a little entertainer, aren’t you?” Karen said. Nolasco smiled.
He had no idea Karen & Jim’s existed when he moved back to Casper. His son introduced him. Nolasco didn’t have a car at the time, so every Friday and Saturday night his son dropped him off about 8 p.m. and picked him up whenever he called.
Nolasco sings mainly oldies. The ladies love it.
Two weeks ago, he was singing when a woman joined him on stage. She threw her arms around him and smelled his neck.
“You smell good,” she said.
She asked his age. Nolasco told her and continued singing. The woman leaned close and whispered in his ear.
“I like you.”
Nolasco stopped. He briefly took his eyes off the screen, and faced the woman.
“Great. I like you, too. But I’ve got to finish this song.”
By 9:05, the crowd had doubled in size. Nolasco impatiently clinked a spoon on the table to the beat of someone singing “Sexy and I Know It.” The person finished. Nolasco clapped.
“Let’s welcome back to the stage, Tom,” Mandy said.
The song was Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.” Nolasco claims it’s his signature. He loves fast songs. It gets people dancing.
He stared at the yellow lyrics on the screen. The guitar rift began and ears perked in the crowd.
Nolasco followed along as the lyrics glowed blue, but they moved too fast. He caught up again whenever the chorus hit.
Go, go
Go Johnny go
Go
Go Johnny go
Go
He shimmied his legs and swung his arms, screaming into the microphone.
Side conversations stopped, attention turning toward the man in the black and white fedora. At the end there was a loud applause. He smirked and returned to his milkshake.
“Sometimes I limp,” he said. “But when I get to dancing and singing, I don’t feel nothing.”
The next karaoke singer performed last year’s hit single, “Uptown Funk.” Nolasco had never heard the song, but he liked the beat.
He tapped the back of a woman wearing a light-up sash. It was her 34th birthday.
“Let’s go dance,” he said.
She smiled and took his hand. They moved to the dance floor. Nolasco swung his hips, pointed toward the ceiling and nodded his head.
Soon the drunken crowd sauntered in. The karaoke line increased, which irritated Nolasco.
At 9:46, he bobbed his head and performed Lloyd Price’s 1960 hit “Stagger Lee.” At 10:30, he sang and shook his hips to Little Richard’s “Lucille.” At 11:37, he swayed and moaned in the slow spotlight of a laser disco ball to, “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’.”
“On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the most memorable (customer we have), Tom’s probably a 14,” Mandy said.
He performed “Wooly Bully” at 12:16 a.m. to a packed, cheering crowd of 50-plus. He sang Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock n Roll” at 1:12, the birthday girl dancing all over.
“You might think I get tired here,” Nolasco said, plopping back in his seat. “But I’ve got nothing else better to do.”
By 1:30, the drunken crowd left. Mandy announced last call, and Nolasco had one more song to sing. He bounced his knee and waved for Mandy’s attention.
“Am I after this (guy)?”
“Mandy?”
“How many people are ahead?”
“Five,” she said.
“Five!”
Nolasco reached for a cold, four-hour old onion ring, eating two more to bide the time.
There were 11 people inside the bar for his final song. Karen cleaned behind the counter. Patrons drunkenly screamed their conversations, no longer paying attention to who was singing what.
Nolasco grabbed the microphone at 1:49 a.m. The words appeared on the screen. It was Elvis Presley’s, “Are You Lonesome Tonight?”
He rocked from leg to leg. His voice was sweet and sad, swapping his singing voice for a conversational tone in the final part of the song.
Now the stage is bare and I’m standing there
With emptiness all around
And if you won’t come back to me
Then make them bring the curtain down.
Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?
With that, Nolasco’s night was finished. Three people applauded. The birthday girl kissed his cheek. He waved goodbye to Mandy, Karen and Jim.
Nolasco walked outside, swapping someone’s unenthused version of Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off” for chirping crickets and a gentle Casper breeze.
He opened his car door and drove away, only six more days until he’d return.