Shortly after Thanksgiving, a new bar opened on St.
Paul Street, a few doors north of Tapas 177. A week before Christmas, it still
had no name.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย It’s about time we stepped in.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The owner,
John Rebis, clearly needs help, and not just because his other bar is Paradise
Alley. Rebis is trying to make this new establishment respectable — you know,
like the kind of place people over 25 can be seen at and retain their
self-respect.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย That ain’t The Alley; never has
been.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Short of
closing The Alley down, Rebis seems powerless to keep the swarms of parasitic
post-teens from swarming the dance club in search of cheap beer and booty. “The
kids took it over,” I heard him lament while sitting beside him at his nice,
new bar on a recent Thursday night.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The new
space has been designed and decorated not to necessarily discourage
21-somethings from patronizing it, but to attract patrons with more
sophisticated tastes. It’s long and relatively narrow, with a very high
ceiling, finished wood flooring and furnishings, dark wood-paneled walls, and a
lot of exposed brick.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย This last
attribute inspired Rebis to consider calling the bar “Brix” — a bad idea. For
one thing, it invites comparison with The Brickyard Pub off upper South Avenue
— a baby step, at best, in any attempt to distance the place from the shallow
scene at the Alley.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย For
another, it’s stupid.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The classy
atmosphere subtly encourages the imbibing of liquors and wines (the lack of
beer on tap is another, not so subtle, enticement). Rebis may have had this in
mind when he thought of naming the bar “Toasted Head” (its legal name, as far
as the county clerk’s office is concerned). Either that, or his own head was in
a toaster at the time.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย A
wine-tasting term I assume alludes to a slightly burnt flavor, “Toasted Head”
would inevitably be shortened, in common parlance, to “The Head.” Need I spell
out why potential customers, particularly men, would be reluctant to ask their
buddies to “go to The Head” with them?”
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Given the
preponderance of plastic plants, I suggested Rebis call the bar “Evergreen.” He
ignored that joke, but I’ve got a few more.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Rebis has
hired the same DJ company that provides The Alley’s music to spin CDs at his new
place on weekends. This is an unfortunate miscalculation. Here on the eve of
2003, there is nothing cool or sophisticated about a song like “Some Kind of
Wonderful.” Ditto anything by John Cougar, Mellencamp or no. That crap has
ruined enough wedding receptions; there’s no need to hear it before the
ceremony.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย If his new
place is going to sound like the Alley, Rebis may as well make the name do the
same. How about “Mahogany Hallway?”
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The bar
will eventually serve food, though the type of grub is as much an open question
among the staff as the name of their place of employment. I imagine this will
make the bar much like Lola, the long, narrow Monroe Avenue bistro opened by
another bar proprietor with less-posh businesses in his portfolio. Why not name
the place after another famous transvestite, like RuPaul. “RuPaul on St. Paul”
— now there’s a visual.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย All
things considered, it’s the bar’s address that will ultimately keep the Monroe
Avenue morons away. And its proximity to Tapas will help, too — it can mop up
the spillover from that popular eatery.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Perhaps
Rebis should follow Tapas 177’s lead and incorporate his bar’s street address:
187, as in Snoop Dogg’s lyric from “Deep Cover,” “It’s 187 on an undercover
cop.”
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย “Hello, and
welcome to Broadus 187. What can I get your punk ass? Gin? Juice? Or the happy
hour special, gin and juice?”
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย On second
thought, scratch that. Good luck, John. You’re on your own.
This article appears in Jan 1-7, 2003.
