During Thanksgiving weekend of 2022, Vito’s was deprived of a key part of its identity, a taxidermy cougar named Barbara.
Killed somewhere in Northern Canada some 20 years before the start of the present millennium, and purchased in 2010 by Vito’s owners, Greg Lundgren and Jeff Scott, the beast commanded the back room reserved for private events.
Whatever or whoever Barbara was in life, we can only imagine. For sure, she walked on snow, and she killed a bunch of animals, and she certainly saw the moon in a sky that was clear and cold, but didn’t think much of it. Cougars are not philosophical or poetic (that’s the business of bears). Then one day she unfortunately crossed paths with this world’s prime predator—a deadly, big-brained, bipedal primate—and was, with a bullet, dispatched into the next world (do cougars have souls?).
Eventually, the dead animal was gutted, tanned, preserved, and transformed into a sculpture that found its way to a bar and restaurant that had a long and rich history in Seattle. Here, in this tooth-and-claw-red room, the Cougar Room, Barbara nobly reposed on rocks and greenery as distant mountains and clouds rose phantasmagorically behind her. The gorgeous and campy scene, designed by Jennifer Zeyl and painted by Jason Puccinelli, defined the restaurant, if not Seattle, in that moment in time: the second decade of the century.
Some, like myself, do still think about her, and do have theories about who might have stolen the icon. For example, the same weekend Barbara vanished, the University of Washington Huskies soundly defeated Washington State University Cougars 51 to 33 in Pullman. Should this coincidence be ignored or explored? It’s not hard to picture fraternity brothers from either university doing this job as a flex or for revenge. Or maybe it was a millionaire collector who could not resist the opportunity of adding this priceless piece of Seattle history to their secret collection. Barbara is now for their eyes alone.
Her owners offered $1,000 for her return, no questions asked, or $2,000 for information that led to the arrest of the thief or thieves. (Barbara was valued at $15,000.) But the police never made any arrests.
There was a rumor that someone who broke into Vito’s after the fire stole a check and attempted to cash it in their very own bank account. Obviously not a very bright person. Obviously a great lead. But when reached by text, Lundgren tells me there were “no charges” on the check writer. Evidently, the SPD did not think much of this case or its subject, Barbara.
“I miss Vito’s in the fall especially,” says Lundgren. The same goes with me. I miss walking into the dark joint from the cold or rain or falling leaves. I miss the mirrors in the vestibule, the large meatballs during happy hour, the chill wine list, the jazz singers and players performing standards, the underworld-like atmosphere, and, of course, the cougar. Many people still miss the cougar. Wherever you are, Barbara, you’re still in our thoughts.
