Trips to the Ivanović and Rohonci estates sparked a desire for more outings. So, throughout the summer of 1937, almost every evening, after the promenade ended and the shops closed, we would go to the garden of Miloš Gavrić’s tavern. The tavern was located on a corner, across from the Workers' Home, in the house of Duško Nikolić.
The entrance was right at the corner, with two or three steps leading up to it, and the garden was in the courtyard. One could enter it either from the tavern itself or through a small gate from Vojvode Mišića Street, now Petra Drapšina Street.
It was a truly pleasant place because Uncle Miloš had good wine, and the garden was separated from passersby by a wall—just like all other courtyards—allowing us to enjoy ourselves in peace, spending our own money without disturbing anyone.
About ten of us would gather in Uncle Miloš’s garden, starting with jokes and recounting amusing stories. After a few spritzers, singing would begin—softly at first, just as Radivoj Markuš, the leader of our octet, preferred. He didn’t like loud singing but rather a refined, harmonized performance. This would last for an hour, sometimes two, and then, almost like clockwork, we would get up—but not to go home. Instead, we would head to Sokolana, pick up our tamburicas, and continue down Vojvode Mišića Street, past Sokolana, to the corner where Stevan (Pišta) Vic ran a modest tavern. Today, this is the house of Vlajko and Steva Barbulov.
At Vic’s, the singing would be livelier, accompanied by music, as it took place inside the tavern, where we wouldn’t disturb the neighbors. But even that wouldn’t last too long—an hour, maybe an hour and a half at most. Then, we would all return to Sokolana to put away the tamburicas before heading our separate ways, as the next day was a workday, and we needed to be fresh.
Those were truly wonderful days, thanks to the cheerful company. They were so wonderful that it seems to me they passed even faster than time usually does. As soon as autumn arrived, our outings stopped, and we never had such gatherings again. Many got married, while others simply stopped going out. Everything is fleeting.
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