Meet Me at Sarah’s Place

Rumbling across the uneven bricks of Camp Bowie Boulevard, drivers gain a glimpse of life when the area transitioned from a World War I training camp that witnessed approximately 100,000 soldiers funnel through for the U.S. Army’s 36th Division to a bustling thoroughfare surrounded by residential districts for mostly middle-class families.

After the war’s end, Camp Bowie was demolished and the name changed from Arlington Heights Boulevard to Camp Bowie Boulevard by the Federation of Women’s Clubs to commemorate the area’s military history. Bricks from Thurber, Texas, were laid in 1927, and commercial strips sprouted to accommodate the emerging neighborhood. The Civilian Conservation Corps played a significant role in the boulevard’s transition. Among those employed laying bricks were two future golf legends, Ben Hogan and Byron Nelson.

That nugget of knowledge is provided by Sarah Ten Brink. For most, “Sarah” and “Camp Bowie” are synonymous with beloved dive bar Sarah’s Place that celebrated 20 years in 2025. That’s two decades of rollicking good times in a campy bar inside a building constructed around 1945 that splits walls with a convenience store and is known for karaoke.

Walking into the dimly lit room, you will need a few seconds for your eyes to adjust before a wall-length shuffleboard table surrounded by cases of beer grabs your attention, along with the neon backlit bar and staff who have slung two-ingredient drinks for years. The dartboard area to the left of the entrance serves as the karaoke stage as well. Don’t worry. There’s no dodging sharp objects once the singing kicks in.

“I’ve been lucky all my life,” Sarah proclaimed several times when discussing the many ups and downs faced from Day 1 to Day 7,300 of being open. That line serves as a constant reminder of her gratitude and humility.

Over the years, I have asked lots of people about the background of Sarah’s Place, and answers have ranged from it’s a dive and karaoke bar to a lesbian bar or “It’s always been there.” So, an air of mystique surrounded it.

Yes and no to most of those answers, however there’s more to the story. While Sarah’s has been known as Sarah’s for 20 years, in a previous life, it was another bar named The Pirate’s Cove from 1977 until 2005, when Sarah acquired it. As far as what it was before 1977, it’s anyone’s guess, but that keeps the mystique alive.

Following graduation at Midwestern State University in Wichita Falls, Sarah was hired by the Colonial Country Club in 1981 at the age of 27 as the clubhouse manager. For 10 years, she was the only female attending meetings of the Club Manager’s Association of America.

When asked about the personal and professional obstacles to overcome in a male-dominated sport, Sarah replied with a slight smile, “I’m female, homosexual, and a Democrat. There were just a few minor ones. At the age of 50 when a new manager came in, it wasn’t a fruitful situation, and I opted to leave.”

Sarah had kept watch on Pirate’s Cove and noticed it had been slipping with a gradual decline in sales. But what prompted her to seek out restaurant and bar ownership?

Simple, she always wanted to.

“Easter weekend, I went in Pirate’s Cove,” she said. “I was looking for a bar and ended up buying it on the spot. Now, I didn’t actually have the money, so I had to borrow it from another guest I knew who didn’t even charge interest. He was a very good, very smart businessman with a giant heart.”

It was a testament to someone who believed in her and wanted to see the bar thrive again.

“I left crying after getting the loan,” Sarah recalled, “ran a red light and went down the opposite way on a one-way because I wasn’t paying attention. The biggest female cop I’ve ever seen pulled next to me and mouthed ‘pull over.’ So, I got a ticket. But I also got a bar out of it.”

Showing her collection of tchotchkes composed of bobbleheads on the back shelves, she explained how she wanted a bar that was a safe place.

“People assumed it was a gay bar because my sexual orientation, but I didn’t want labels and wanted everyone to feel welcomed as long as you’re not a jerk,” she said. “No derogatory talk toward anyone is allowed. Once that label faded away, it took off around Year 5.”

This wouldn’t have occurred without the assistance of her wife of 11 years, Ginger Smith. They met at the bar and dated for five years before tying the knot in Manhattan.

“Ginger was instrumental in keeping us afloat as she’s the numbers mind, whereas I’m not,” Sarah said. “She definitely got me out of the frying pan.”

Sarah went on to describe her various bobbleheads, one representing each religion (she added that she’s a recovering Catholic), figurines from both sides of the political aisle. Even Elvis and the Queen of England are perched alongside dancing dashboard hula girls. The mermaid décor started showing up because guests assumed that since Sarah was lesbian, she liked mermaids. And ghost stories? Every staff member has experienced the same happenings, although the activity doesn’t seem to carry any malice. A guest once painted a portrait of a partially nude Elizabeth Taylor from the 1960 film Butterfield 8 to hang on the back bar.

“Well, it looked like Michael Jackson in drag,” Sarah said. “It was horrendous. We hung it for about a month and decided it had to go. A drunk customer wanted it much to the opposition of his wife. He got it anyway.

“When I purchased the bar,” she continued, “there were only two TVs. I went and bought five more, and knowing I was strapped for cash, my accountant asked, ‘What are you trying to do?’ I replied, ‘Trying to get business.’ I wanted it to be a low-lit cocktail lounge with interesting objects like European ashtrays. They all ‘disappeared’ within a couple days.”

Greeting every guest by name as they walked in as hour happy started to warm up, Sarah explained that she removed the three pool tables immediately, not only because they ate up a lot of real estate, but in her words: “Two things cause fights — pool and girls. Shortly after we opened, I took a knife away from a customer and kicked him out. He returned the next day wanting his knife back. That was probably the dumbest thing I’ve done. I don’t carry a gun either because I can have a temper.”

COVID knocked the bar down and nearly out. Sarah was days away from closing for good and retiring to her cabin in Northwest Arkansas before help started trickling in. With the assistance of knowledgeable guests and Ginger, they secured grants and loans to ride it out. Even friends from high school donated as she witnessed a community come together.

“We have 15 staff,” she said, “and I couldn’t fail them.”

At 71, Sarah doesn’t carry herself as someone ready to slow down. With enough stories and one-liners to keep things interesting, she stands by one motto regarding hospitality, “Everything taught in hospitality is service first. The definition of service is knowing what your client wants before they know it.”

What’s in store for the next 20 years?

Sitting behind the wheel of her princess-green Cadillac, she said, “We will keep doing what we’ve always done. I’ve been lucky all my life but carry a lot of ChapStick.”