“Don’t forget to check the Happenings book!”
That refrain was heard almost every time anyone grabbed the car keys at our house, or any of thousands of houses in the greater Minneapolis-St. Paul area from the early 1970s into the 1990s. Akin to the more-distinctively but also more-awkwardly-named Chinook Books, Happenings books were coupon anthologies that one purchased at a price in the neighborhood of $20 (twenty dollars!) from some kid who was trying to raise money for something or other. Slightly rebranded (h/t Chris Cloud), they’re still around today.
I recently uncovered a musty specimen from 1989: the 18th anniversary edition of the “Twin Cities’ Original & Most Popular” entertainment discount volume.
My mom used the back cover to keep track of all the many discounts we were scoring with the book’s detachable coupons, and the evidence suggests that we did pretty damn well. We saved $76.57, and when you deduct $21 (presumably the book’s purchase price), we were left with a tidy surplus of $55.57.
What was being discounted in the Twin Cities during the George H.W. Bush Administration? If I could turn back time, as Cher was singing on KDWB that very season…
Minnesota North Stars tickets
Sorry I didn’t give you a warning on that one. By the late ’80s, the North Stars were turning to Happenings to fill the many empty seats in Met Center, and the team’s owners were threatening to move the team to a real hockey town like San Francisco. In the meantime, though, if you mailed one of these coupons and a personal check for $18.00 to Bloomington, you’d get a pair of game tickets sent right back—no extra postage fees for Happenings members!
Tapes and CDs at Best Buy superstores
Best Buy was the Walmart of late-’80s music shopping: bigger selection, cheaper prices. Why shop at the smaller urban independents? It wasn’t like they were going to go out of business or anything. People would always have to buy new tapes and CDs, right? (Notice: no vinyl.)
Infinite video rentals
There are two solid pages of video rental discount coupons—which we never used, because we had a membership at the Home Video on Snelling that’s now a Buffalo Wild Wings.
Buckets of balls at George’s
George’s! If I’d realized George’s days were numbered, I would have pitched a tent on the upper deck of that magnificent two-tier driving range and refused to leave under any circumstances. You could stand up there with a big bucket of balls and feel like if you kept practicing, you’d eventually send one sailing out over the Minnesota River—or at least succeed at dinging the ball tractor.
Drive-in movie tickets
Already an endangered species, drive-in theaters weren’t yet as extremely rare as they’ve since become. All three of these have now gone the way of the dodo.
Dinner at a rotating restaurant
“Enjoy the St. Paul skyline view from the Twin Cities’ only rotating restaurant.” This was part of the downtown St. Paul Radisson complex, which is now in the process of being converted to the InterContinental Saint Paul Riverfront. No word on whether the rotating restaurant will make a comeback, but the hotel’s already lost its pool and whirlpool, so I guess “intercontinental” means something a little less urbane than it did in 1989.
Planetarium visits
Except for “electronic pulltabs will pay for the new Vikings stadium,” there has been no bigger development-related lie foisted on the people of Minneapolis in recent decades than the promise that the new Central Library would have a planetarium, just like the old one. As the appropriately pained Wikipedia entry for the late great Minnesota Planetarium notes, when the then-new Central Library opened in 1960 with a planetarium inside, it was “the only library outside of Alexandria, Egypt, to contain such a feature.” Such a feature, indeed—and now they’ve taken our last goddamn monorail too.
Fine dining at Dayton’s
Dayton’s department stores were always synonymous with class, even if “class” meant a BOGO special on a $5.50 plate of beef liver. Holders of the prestigious Happenings card (you got one with the book) could enjoy deep discounts at any of several Dayton’s-based eateries, from the elegant River Room in St. Paul to the Boundary Waters restaurants (Edina and Minnetonka) to the Oak Grill (Minneapolis) to the Greenhouse Restaurant (Burnsville) to the Iron Horse (filet mignon, ten bucks even). “Fine dining that’s just your style, unexpected in any department store, except Dayton’s.”
The Cricket Contemporary Theatre
Sheila Regan’s invaluable Twin Cities theater history project traces the story of the Cricket, which debuted in 1968 with a rock musical, set in the Civil War, called House of Leather. (You can buy the original cast recording, which an Amazon reviewer cites for its “uninspiring harmonies and eunuch-like vocals.”) The company toured the show to New York, where it flopped so badly it took the whole company down with it—but the company later reemerged at what’s now the Ritz Theater, later moving to the Hennepin Center for the Arts and ending their life at the venue advertised on this coupon, now known as the Music Box Theatre on Nicollet. Their final production? You guessed it: Triple Espresso.
Totem pole dining
The old Thunderbird was a landmark on I-494, where the predictably kitschy Totem Pole lounge was—I’m told—a notorious 1970s singles spot, sort of the Psycho Suzi’s of its day.
Dunkin’ Donuts
Yes, the Twin Cities used to have not one but two Dunkin’ Donuts franchises. Now we have zero, and we’re supposedly about to have ten. When it comes to donuts, it’s feast or famine around here.
Bridgeman’s
R.I.P. the Snelling location, where I ate a Lollapalooza and got a button to prove it.
Pizza from “Pizzeria”
I wonder what sunk this generic little chain: their uninspiring graphic design, or their predilection for brand-new and about-to-founder urban shopping centers in reclaimed spaces?
Pizza and late-night videos from Jimbo
Now there‘s graphic design! I’d never heard of this Blaine establishment, but apparently it’s still in operation as an Italian-American restaurant—with the same logo, albeit denuded of the “late night video” promise. A Yelp reviewer sheds a little light on Jimbo’s history: “This place used to be a truck stop back in the day, with an ‘adult’ video section in the basement.”
Jimbo gone legit? Who woulda thunk it?
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