The smoking lane (and other tales)

Perhaps there ought to have been a surgeon general's warning for this.

As a statewide ban against smoking in public places went into effect Thursday, anger mixed with angst among smokers — as well as the bar, restaurant and casino owners who loved them.

If nonsmokers were feeling smug, they mostly kept it to themselves.

There were signs that smokers were being accommodated. A smokers' shelter went up outside a tavern, and a smokers' sofa clandestinely appeared in the middle of a street — replies to the provision that smokers keep a 25-foot distance from doorways.

A "For Sale" sign represented a business owner's despair.

Public Health — Seattle & King County received fewer than 10 complaints about illegal smoking Thursday.

Some people, though, remained confused. The Fairmont Olympic Hotel, trying to accommodate and comply, allowed smoking inside its parking garage.

Oops! Public Health says that's a no-no.

Here are a pack of stories from the first day of being smoke-free:

Rimrock Steak House, Lake City

New law has its ins and outs

By 11 a.m. Thursday, Ronald Russell already had gone outside four times to light up.

Open from 6 a.m. to 2 a.m., the Rimrock had been a haven for smokers. Russell, 55, a three-packs-a-dayer who has come to the Rimrock nearly every day for the past 36 years, recalled the signs hung near the front and back doors: "This is a smoking bar."

Different signs were up yesterday. They say "For Sale." Owner Connie Dunn put them up Nov. 9, the day after the ban on smoking in public places passed.

"I refuse to have someone tell me what me and my customers can do," she said. "I smoked up to two years ago and I got lung cancer and I've had one of my lungs taken out. But I'm just so mad about this law, I've cried a lot."

— Judy Chia Hui Hsu

Dugout Tavern, Des Moines

Empty seats for lunch

A typical Thursday lunch crowd at the Dugout is, oh, 20 customers. Thursday, there were none. The first food order of the day came around 4 p.m. The day's take to that point: a stinkin' $30.

Kay Bonus, whose husband bought the small bar on Marine View Drive South about 30 years ago from his father, who opened it 58 years ago, is afraid the smoking ban is going to be the death of the Dugout.

"I've never had a Thursday like this," Bonus said. "I know it's just one day and I am trying to stay positive. But I talked to a bar on the other end of town and they are just as slow as we are."

— Stuart Eskenazi

Central Club, Kirkland

Vigilance is called for

Bartender Shawn Field said the downtown tavern was making history with its first smoke-free day since it opened in 1936.

Sort of.

One regular lit a cigarette to go with his drink, then snuffed it out shortly after noticing Field eyeing it. Another lit up while walking in the front door.

"Hey, no smoking!" a woman yelled from the bar as others guffawed. "Don't you know what the law says?"

Longtime customer Lindsey Goetz, a smoker, said the ban wouldn't make her frequent the Central any less.

"I don't mind standing outside," she said. "It's healthier for everyone."

— Karen Gaudette

J&M Cafe and Cardroom, Pioneer Square

Approval from both sides

Relaxing after work, bicycle messengers Andrew Arce, a smoker, and Steve Norman, a nonsmoker, both said they favor the change.

"It's nice to be able to breathe," said Norman, 35. "I'm more inclined to go to a bar now."

Arce, 25, got used to smoke-free bars in California, where he lived until 18 months ago. "I like it that you can go out to a bar and when you get home, you don't smell like a total ashtray."

Arce said he didn't understand the 25-foot rule, and that he had simply stepped outside in front of the J&M on the sidewalk for a cigarette.

No one bothered him.

— Jack Broom

Sidewalk, Fremont

Creating a happy median

A well-worn sofa and a footstool rested on the sidewalk Thursday afternoon, surrounded by a white picket fence. A sign proclaimed it "The 25-ft. Lounge."

Earlier in the day, that same smokers' retreat had been in the median of Fremont Place North.

Therese Lefebvre, an occasional smoker who runs ETG Coffee, had the scoop. In the wee hours Thursday, dressed in all black like cat burglars, she and some friends dragged the couch into the street.

"We thought it would be funny," she said. "And it was."

The lounge was used by 20 or 30 people — some of whom said they didn't even smoke, Lefebvre noted. But then Seattle police arrived in the afternoon, and moved the couch from the street to the sidewalk.

Asked if she planned to create a new smoking lounge, Lefebvre smiled: "That's my business."

— Craig Welch

Siren Tavern, Sodo

Shelter from legal storm

A half-dozen patrons gathered under an aluminum carport behind the tavern on Fourth Avenue South.

Owner Connie Longrie bought it at Home Depot to keep her smoking customers happy and warm. She calls it the "Siren Smoke Shack."

Under the 12-by-20-foot shelter, she set up a propane heater, ashtrays and a wooden plank for people to set their drinks on.

The carport, however, is only 15 feet from the tavern's back door — 10 feet less than required. But Longrie said health-department employees OK'd it after determining smoke wouldn't trail back into the building.

"Connie is the coolest person I've ever known," said John Sullivan, a 50-year-old contractor and Siren regular. "Look what she did for us stupid smokers."

— Jack Broom

Silver Dollar Casino, Mountlake Terrace

Folding their tent

Mary Abel thought she had a reasonable alternative to smoking indoors.

In the parking lot, about 25 feet from the casino's entrance, she set up a tent complete with chairs, propane heaters and ashtrays.

But the Mountlake Terrace Fire Department ordered it taken down Thursday afternoon because of city ordinances that prohibit smoking in that sort of structure, Abel said.

"I'm trying to remain as absolutely positive as possible," Abel said, gripping a pack of Marlboro Lights.

She is now trying to market her casino's clean air, hoping to attract new customers to replace those who might take their money and their smokes elsewhere — like tribal casinos, where smokers still can light up as much as they want.

— Brian Alexander