LONGTIME CANTINA IS HEADED FOR LAST CALL.

Byline: BRENT HOPKINS Staff Writer

SIMI VALLEY -- From the front porch of the Santa Susana Cantina, a man could stretch out with a beer and watch the sunset paint the hills in gorgeous shades of cantaloupe-orange.

Inside the old place on Santa Susana Pass Road, he found lively debate, loud music and cold drinks. The jukebox played Zeppelin and Dire Straits, and the conversation tended toward good times, country tunes and that damn fool who tried to blow himself up on TV. A scarred wanted poster bearing Osama bin Laden's glowering face topped the bar.

This is the place where John Wayne and the old-time movie cowboys partied, where bikers parked their hogs and cut loose after a good ride. Legend has it cult leader Charles Manson once stopped in for a drink. Nighttime talk show host Jay Leno motored into its dusty lot, the hitching post off to one side, in his wild, old cars.

Next Sunday, after 73 years in business, the Simi Valley landmark will close its doors. Unless a rich investor comes along to keep the storied bar alive in the next three months, it will never open again.

``It's like going into your living room and hanging out with your friends here,'' said Tom Picard, a 20-year regular. ``This is the neutral ground. You get a high-end professional and a guy who pounds nails for a living. The common ground we all stand on is this floor. This is our bar.''

Since he bought it four years ago, Rod Montanio has not drawn a paycheck or made any money to keep the bar running. While he can pack in 200 people on a Friday night on the patio in the summer, the winter months are so lean that he slides back into the red. This year, not enough patrons came out to keep him going through the slow period.

He blames the crunch on zoning laws that won't allow him to expand the bandstand, put in a decent kitchen or obtain a full liquor license. Without any of them, he can't make the money he needs to survive, so he hopes for a last-minute exemption or a wealthy buyer to swoop in and keep it open as a hobby.

Arnold Schwarzenegger filmed scenes from a ``Terminator'' movie in the parking lot. Now the owner dreams the governor will ride back in on his Harley to save the old-time watering hole.

``It's been a fun run,'' said Montanio, 43, who lives nearby and also runs a hospital design firm to pay the bills. ``I've met a lot of great people, but it's time to go. It's just a shame it had to end.''

From Scotty's to Irene's to Rod's to Otto's to Wallie's Hideout, the ramshackle place bore many names atop its weathered roof. It grew outward, piece by piece, with walls scarred by wayward darts and beers sloshed from their bottles.

No one got drunk and punched each other, and though discussions grew heated, they rarely got ugly.

``This is the Cheers of Simi Valley, and I'm Norm,'' said Dan Dow, 37, a movie tech who's been a regular for the past few months. ``No, everybody's Norm.''

He sat, nursing a foamy glass of Guinness as P.J. Stover tended bar. He has long hair, black boots and a shirt with a flaming skull design. She's pretty, smokes cigarettes outside and pals around with the customers.

``Other bars, I'd go to them because they've got hot chicks or I want to watch the game,'' Dow continued. ``There's no hot chicks here.''

With that, Stover casually rolled her bar towel into a long tail and cracked it against his head, and Dow continued a long defense of the cantina's virtues. Two stools down, Ron Shaw sipped a 7-Up and remembered at least one attractive lady who'd come in 41 years before.

``I was in here with a friend of mine, sitting just one stool over,'' he said, picking up his drink. ``This girl came in looking for her sister, and we got to talking, danced a few times and went on our merry ways. I was kinda sorry that I didn't ask for her phone number.''

That was back when he managed Crazy Perkins and The Old Southernaires, and the hills weren't covered in homes and a mall. He came back a few more times and eventually got that girl named Carrie's phone number. They dated, married and stayed together for 36 years. She died three years ago, but he still has the memory and, for the moment, the same seat where he can reminisce.

Bands would play slow songs for the sweethearts, and the camaraderie ran as thick as the Guinness. For the Super Bowl, everyone brought their own food for a pot luck and on rainy days, you could sit and drink coffee. The times still felt so good.

If she hadn't seen someone in a few days, Stover would call them at home and demand that they get themselves in there. And they usually would.

``We're all staring at Rod, hoping we can will it into him to keep it open,'' said Gary Stuart, a four-year regular who's 46 and works installing fiber-optics. ``And we've been playing the lottery like mad. I'd lose money to keep a place like this open.''

brent.hopkins(at)dailynews.com

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3 photos

Photo:

(1) The Santa Susana Cantina operates under a different name in this photo from the 1950s.

(2 -- 3) Santa Susana Cantina owner Rod Montanio, above, shares a laugh with customers Tom Picard, left, and Joe Pugh. The bar will be closing at the end of October after 73 years in business. At left, talk show host Jay Leno attended a motorcycle event at the cantina in 2003.

Andy Holzman/Staff Photographer