townie bars
Showing posts with label townie bars. Show all posts

Wanna Buy a Bar in Cleveland With Me?

Monday, March 14, 2016

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http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/mar/07/democratic-vote-hillary-clinton-election-2016-bernie-sanders

It doesn't look like a bar. From the outside, the building is totally nondescript, just another quirky Tremont home. If you look closely, you'll notice a Sam Adams logo in the window, but that's about all that distinguishes it from the residences that surround it. On the brick wall to the right of the door is a very small plaque denoting the fact that it's a bar, but it still doesn't sink in because it doesn't look like a bar, doesn't look like it's ever open, doesn't look like you're allowed to go inside.

But if you look a little bit more closely, you'll realize: This place is something weird. This place is something else. This place, specifically, is the Literary Cafe in Tremont, & it's for sale, & I desperately wish I were a person who had any interest in owning a bar or any money to buy this one.

The Literary Cafe only takes cash but has no ATM on the premise. It is open on Thursday, Friday, & Saturday nights only; it opens at 7pm, loosely, & closes whenever the owners feel like closing it. They have a small full bar & two beer taps, though they are always out of at least one of their drafts beers. They serve the other not in glasses but rather in glass chalices, the kind your grandma serves the Manischwitz in. The first time we were there, the only bar they had on draft was Sam Adams. Really. The bar does not serve food, though the owners (who double as the bartenders, of course) sometimes set Styrofoam bowls of Chex Mix along the bar.

There are a handful of barstools (apparently Robert DeNiro stole one?) & exactly two tables, plus a giant piano whose lid you should close unless you want to accidentally set the place ringing. Hanging on one wall is a painting of the inside of the bar, which feels strangely meta, sort of like looking into an angled mirror in a department store dressing room - like you can see tiny versions of yourself forever & ever, into infinity.

The owners, a married couple, have been there 26 years & were instrumental in launching the now-monthly Tremont ArtWalk. They refer to the neighborhood's gentrification as "urban pioneering."

The bar's back room that's more an art space & less a bar, though I suppose people drink in there, too. Two of the three times I've been, the room has been the site of a "drawing parties," filled with local artists of every age & shape & color & kind who sit in a semi-circle around a subject, furiously copying his or her likeness onto sketch pads & canvases. Completed works of past subjects plaster the walls, dozens of sets of eyes staring back at you from God-knows-how-long-ago.

The bar went up for sale in February & is listed at a cool half a mil. That price includes the bar itself, the liquor license that accompanies it, & a two-bedroom apartment above it, plus a backyard garden. According to the listing, the building dates back to the pre-Civil War era, & Cleveland.com says it's one of the oldest in Tremont. The owners want to move south; I guess you can only do Cleveland winters & the Cleveland bar scene for so long.

OK, OK, so I'm not going to buy the Literary Cafe. I wouldn't want to live above a bar, & I wouldn't want to manage a bar, & oh, I also don't have the money to buy a bar, anyway. But I hope that whoever buys it keeps it pretty darn close to the way it is now: the perfect little neighborhood gem, refusing to conform to the trendy standards that the neighborhood is setting around it, hidden in plain sight & perfect just the way it is.
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The Benefits of Retaining Ex-Boyfriends for Purposes of Friendship & Bodily Safety

Sunday, November 28, 2010

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My good friend Sean turned 26 yesterday, so we met up at our favorite townie bar, located approximately one mile from my home. (Not this bar. Another mile-away bar. It's the Midwest, y'all. We like our townie bars.)

I was just looking for darts & '90s beats, not for dramz. But toward the end of the night, when I made my way to the jukebox to select some sweet tunage a la Salt & Pepa's "None of Your Business," a bachelorette party clad in matching tie-dyed shirts swarmed in. I am not a squealing kinda girl, in case you were unsure; in fact, the thought makes me shudder. So a they squealed & stampeded all around me, I shot them my best withering "keep it down" look - & that's where the trouble began.

Small, blond & pretty, the offender was unassuming - but boy, was she squealy. She sidled up to me & literally screamed into my left ear, a high-pitched "SQUEEEE" designed to either piss me off or break my eardrum or both. Probably both. When I turned to her, terrified, she giggled, "Oops, sorry. Didn't mean to offend you," then turned to walk away... but returned to close with, "Except I did!" As I kept picking songs (I believe there was some MGMT & some Elton John involved), I heard her tell her comrades in tie-dyed arms about the incident, laughing at me for scaring so easily & calling me a number of names I hadn't earned just for going deaf.

I could've let it go, but... I couldn't. As I returned to my friends & the dart board, I brushed past her: "You're hilarious," I said, stone-faced. And kept walking. Not my best line, but it did the trick... except then I got scared. I heard her retelling the story to her equally squealy posse, then stepping it up by purposefully bumping into my friends & trying to intimidate us. It worked, as I am easily intimidated.

But I had a secret weapon. What the woo-girls didn't know was that the friend they chose to bodycheck was Kevin, my friend-turned-boyfriend-turned-ex-boyfriend-returned friend... the off-duty bartender. He was quick to jump into action: A few stare-downs & a bit of tinkering behind the bar later, the offenders realized their mistake & before Kevin could kick them out, left. Without further incident. In a hurry. On a party bus.

One good thing came of this bizarre & unexpected encounter. In the adrenaline rush that came with fear trumped by power & then by victory, I threw a bullseye & promptly roared, "MY FURY IS A GENIUS!"

Who takes their bachelorette party to a townie bar, anyway? I win this round, woo-girls.
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P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Things)

Friday, May 21, 2010

Because Canon has yet to master the art of a point & shoot that points & shoots video both horizontally & vertically, I have this bad habit of accidentally taking videos sideways. This is annoying, I realize, particularly because I have a weird pinched nerve in my neck that makes craning it awkwardly to view these videos at a normal angle somewhat... well, awkward. Oh, also, painful. But this one is worth the neck pain.

Background: My visit home last week included some time at the local townie bar, where my college boyfriend bartends. My mom & I stopped by to watch my childhood best friend's dad's new rock band, The Jillettes, jam as only middle-aged rockers in a new band can. Half the bar was full of the parents of kids I grew up with; the other half was filled with people I went to high school with. [Small town, you're not givin' me many options here.]

When the show ended, the place cleared out & my friends & I found ourselves in charge of the bar music. Because it was entirely silent when I approached the jukebox, it was entirely obvious that I was the one who chose to play Whitesnake, TLC & Matt Nathanson. Not embarrassing at all...

I also played Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror," & a friend played "Smooth Criminal." The band was good, but the bartender might've been better! If you've got only a short moment, play the first; if you've got time to appreciate some behind-the-bar dance moves, go with the second. Either way, enjoy.





Got a crick in your neck yet? And in case you tuned in to the commentary, yes. Some day I shall learn to Harlem Shake. And it shall be the crowning glory of my otherwise rhythmless life.
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