There won't be liquor at the landmark Willock Social Club when it reopens in Baldwin Borough later this summer. But, there will be coffee and prayer. Plenty of both.

The former social club is being purchased by the New Wine Harvest Church, of Pleasant Hills. And, if the church's pastor, the Rev. Ken Huhn, has his way, the coffee will flow like the River Jordan, and his disciples will pass cups across a bar that for generations saw its share of elbows tipped and liquor-inspired arguments between locals.

"When we first saw that room, we knew it would be the ideal place for a casual coffee shop environment," the Rev. Huhn said.

With seating for 40 around the bar, and standing room for more than 100, the barroom alone at the historic watering hole can fit about has many as the congregation's current home in a former Lutheran church in Pleasant Hills.

"We tried the same thing where we are now," the Rev. Huhn said. "We took out pews and made room for contemporary worship and a coffee bar on Saturday nights and jazz and blues nights, but the space was still a little confining for our vision."

New Wine leaders plan to convert a downstairs room in the former social hall into a nursery and create a combination sanctuary and dance floor for "worship dance."

"We wanted a place that was low-key and welcoming for members of the public who are new to a church environment," the Rev. Huhn said.

He said he and his wife and co-pastor Debra "want to make God a part of everyday life."

He muses that when the move is completed by early September, his ministry will be reversing a decades-long local trend of churches being converted into bars.

But not everyone is as excited as the pastor.

Ben Beck and his wife, Eleanor, have lived nearly a lifetime in the orbit of the Willock Social Club, on Willock Road. They live on nearby Meadow Street.

Mr. Beck joined in 1944 soon after the couple's wedding. Weeks later he was shipped off as part of the Army Air Forces, eventually flying 35 missions as a radio operator in B-24s and B-17s.

The club was a welcoming place to return for a cold beer, he recalled.

In the 1950s, the self-described "blue-collar guy" would drop in for a beer after work and said that "on a few occasions" he got into a fight.

Mrs. Beck said her Willock pedigree goes back even further, to the club's founding.

"My father and my great grandpa were involved then," she said.

Eleanor, 84, worked in the club's kitchen in her 20s but she says the club elders voted only two years ago to grant full membership to women.

"There were so many picnics and graduations and memories, but most of our friends from there are gone," Mr. Beck said. "My daughter was even married there."

He said "the new part of the club" was built in the mid-1960s, but the original was built around 1911.

"They used it as a hospital and morgue during the great flu pandemic," he said. "They just stacked the bodies in there, back when it was part of a Slovakian/Slovenian national benefits society," Mr. Beck said.

Mr. Beck said original members were mostly coal miners who had immigrated from eastern Europe.

At some point, the club took its name from Willock, a coal mining village located between West Mifflin and Baldwin Borough, which was later annexed by the borough.

During the past 20 years, the club struggled to maintain membership by hosting oldies dances. From a peak of 2,500 members in the 1950s, the club roster dwindled to about 50 diehard regulars by 2004, barely enough for financial survival.

The final call for alcohol took place during the recent National Hockey League playoffs.

As a member of the house committee and later president of the club, Mr. Beck is proud how things were "kept in order." He says it can be traced back to the club's "ethnic" roots.

The Rev. Huhn said that he was bringing a spiritual dimension into a once-vibrant social club.

And with his church's growing congregation -- now at 140 and expanding -- the minister is convinced the Willock building and his church are a match made in heaven.

"Our latest group of new members, about 20 of them, came from Baldwin about six months ago, and I think that was a sign from God," the Rev. Huhn said. "It shows this move was planned from above."