As you step inside the small restaurant, the smell of old furniture and home-style food wafts through the friendly air. Customers, happy an old Gulfport, Fla., haunt has been revived, sit on mismatched chairs.
One of the seats, titled “Cinco de Mayo,” is painted each color of the rainbow. A few others have backrests made of carved wood.
Salt and pepper shakers are sculpted into little white chickens. Blue- and red-checkered tablecloths add another layer to the mosaic decor.
"Kids call it eclectic," says Janice Adair, 50, who recently opened the Domain Food & Spirits. "I just say it has a homey feel because everybody is comfortable here."
That's partly because many patrons heeded Adair's call for chairs and volunteered to fix the building at 5501 Shore Blvd. S. It is located in the same place as the Mansfield Bar used to be in the ’80s. H. T. Kanes Pub occupied the structure for another decade, but Adair says, "They just lost the love for the place."
The first time Adair opened a bathroom door, it fell off the hinges.
Even though there was plenty of work to do — and several restaurants and bars to compete with — Adair says Domain’s in an ideal location because of the beach view and proximity to the Gulfport Casino Ballroom.
When she leased the building in March, a group of locals stood by the door of her new investment, ready to rebuild. She didn't even know some of the people who showed up to help without pay. They painted the building, fixed the bathroom and power-washed the kitchen. They worked late and shared food.
They brought the building back to life again in two weeks.
"I think that people living in Gulfport wanted this place to succeed," says Michele King, the small town's vice mayor. "Gulfport is a very small, tight community, and this location has always been a place where local people come. And I think a lot of people were probably disappointed at the end of H. T. Kanes’ era because it went downhill. They were looking forward to being able to come here and have a place that felt like home."
King was part of the effort. She helped paint and donated a few chairs, which gives her a sense of belonging when she stops by.
Starting and running a restaurant business is a new venture for Adair, but she wasn't afraid to try. People always told the former nanny she had a good personality and knew how to talk and listen.
She gracefully stops at each table to visit.
"I make sure I speak to everybody," Adair says. "I've heard the saddest and the happiest stories. You don't know if you are sitting next to someone who is some billionaire's cousin or someone who is just hungry and worrying if they are going to be able to keep their house tomorrow."
One of Adair's favorite regulars is a Vietnam veteran who helps repair broken chairs.
Each seat seems to bring a different story. A pair of white chairs with knobs carries the memory of a woman who moved back to Pennsylvania because her Florida home was repossessed. A vinyl chair with pink flower prints belonged to a 90-year-old woman nearly all her life.
The stories of Adair's chairs are the stories of the people who come to her place. "You meet every walk of life imaginable," she says.
After she finishes telling a story to a couple sitting outside, Adair pursues a few new customers and hands them menus.
Printed on computer paper, the choices are headlined with the words of Julia Child: "You don't have to cook fancy or complicated masterpieces – just good food from fresh ingredients." The top item, a 14-ounce rib eye, sells for $20. Other entrees include whole-belly clams for $18 and a shrimp dinner for $15.
The food comes with a side of camaraderie.
"I try to make sure we are very personal here, which people like," Adair says. "Sometimes when you feel comfortable where you are at it's a lot easier for a person to open up. People don't want to be ignored. If you are spoken to, you are likely to come back."
Daily customers like Gladys Moses, 90, appreciate that part of Domain.
On this day, she sits under the shade of an umbrella perched at the outside bar, near historic photographs of Gulfport. She started frequenting this spot with 23 friends back when it was Mansfield Bar.
She is the only one left of the original group.
"I come and they talk to me and that makes me feel good," says Moses, who wears large, white cascading earrings. "That is more important than the food. I know it's not important to other people, but it's important to me. I have plenty of food at home, but I don't want to eat alone."