Rick was a member at our old home and a great guy. Ride on Brother.
The ‘smiling’ man behind a good cigar
POSTED: 03/19/15, 4:55 PM PDT | 0 COMMENTS
Last Friday night in West Sacramento a motorcyclist died in a car accident. The motorcyclist was pulling into the intersection. The driver of the car was allegedly on his mobile phone, either talking or texting. Just like that, the motorcylist was killed.
The motorcyclist’s name was Rick Neyses. I don’t know much about him other than he was 54 years old. I don’t know much about his past.
Here’s what I do know because I recently wrote a story that included Rick. You may have read it as well. The story was published in The Democrat’s online edition, but not (as fate would have it) in print. The story was about Rick’s retirement business called Westside Cigar Lounge in West Sacramento and a visit by Don Felix, who spent one afternoon showing how he rolled cigars.
After surviving tongue cancer treatment I can’t smoke cigars. But before being diagnosed I met Rick on a visit to the Lounge with other members of the Davis Odd Fellows. I bought nearly $100 worth of cigars and smoked just one before starting radiation and chemo treatments. The rest I later gave away to fellow lovers.
Here’s how the story I wrote started: “There’s an art to smoking a good cigar. While individual tastes vary, the ambiance and ritual for trimming a thick cylinder of aged tobacco leaf, lighting it and taking that first draw should be done correctly or not at all to obtain maximum enjoyment.
“Indeed, even the location should be pre-selected to enable the cigar aficionado attain a mellowness and relaxed demeanor.
“After all, cigars aren’t cigarettes. There’s no comparing the two. If cigars are for the unhurried, cigarettes are for the fast-paced lover of nicotine.
“That distinct difference is one of the reasons Rick Neyses bought and operates the Westside Cigar Lounge in West Sacramento, one of only five cigar establishments of its type in the Sacramento region and the only one in Yolo County.
“Neyses, a retired communications specialist, now comes to work daily with ‘a smile on my face.’ Buying the Cigar Lounge a little more than a year ago was a retirement present to himself, he explains while holding onto a 50-gauge Nicaraguan smoke.
“The Lounge itself is smaller than your average-size living room and sits adjacent to a barber shop (not a hair-styling salon). There’s no alcohol served, unless customers bring it themselves. There’s no food either, unless someone happens to bring something or wants to fire up the barbecue out back.
“There is, however, a bar-like station, behind which Neyses holds court and lights your cigars — using a specially made butane torch for the occasion and a specialty cutter that cleanly slices a “V” into the smoking end of your cigar.
“There are also six deeply plush chairs in which people can feel comfortable while musing about the problems of the day, or escaping them. There are also six stools next to the bar for those who want direct facetime with Neyes.”
Rick was what you would call a character. He was big, bearded and jovial. His personality was distinct but relaxed. He didn’t seem to have a care in the world, although I’m sure he did.
As Yolo County Superior Court Judge Dave Rosenberg wrote on learning of Rick’s death: “Those of us who knew Rick’s great smile and big heart are saddened at his untimely and senseless death. Rest in peace, Rick.”
I’m ashamed to admit this, but I learned about Rick’s passing through an email from a person who read my story published online. When I first got the email I didn’t remember who Rick was. That itself is not surprising. I write a lot of stories and will sometimes forget the names of people I interview. But in this case, for some reason, I focused solely on Rick’s last name “Neyses” and came up blank.
It was only after I concentrated on his first name (several minutes later) that everything clicked because I associated “Rick” with the character “Rick Blaine” in the movie “Casablanca,” played by Humphrey Bogart. That’s how I saw Rick, as a man whose establishment attracted a varied clientele, each with a cigar in hand, musing over events foreign and domestic. That’s how I’ll remember him now.
A memorial service is scheduled for Rick at 3 p.m., Saturday, March 28, at the Freed Spirits Motorcycle Clubhouse in Sacramento. I plan to be there and may even break my “no more cigars” rule one final time.
