Posts Tagged ‘memory lane’

Memory Lane – The Old Silk City

Wednesday, February 10th, 2010

I remember the first time I¬†entered¬†the dark red bar of Silk City thinking it was like an opium den. (My experiences with opium dens being limited to reading¬† The Ruby in the Smoke as a pre-teen.) Silk City was a cave, with low ceilings and dark walls, the haze of smoke. This was back in the day, before the remodel, revamp, reboot. The diner was next door and you couldn’t get any food from it without leaving the bar. The bathrooms were tiny,¬†over-flowingly¬†unsanitary, with paper all over the floor, and lit far too harshly compared to the dance floor. You woke up the next morning stinking of smoke and spilt whiskey.

My memories of Silk City are hazy. It was one of the first bars I went to in Philadelphia, and nights there were spent learning to not care if people watched you dance and counting quarters to buy the next city wide. Oh the city wide. Bob & Barbara’s may have invented the City Wide Special (a can of PBR and a shot of Jim Beam for $3) but I became familiar with and greatly abused it at Silk City. There was also a $1 PBRs and $7 Long Island Ice Teas.

My roommate and I used to go to an event called Hang the DJ where you could sign up for a 15 minute block of time to work the turn tables (cd or vinyl) with either music you brought or a selection provided. There would be choreographed dance numbers, and meeting friends of friends of friends while dancing, learning to meet people in a strange city. Some nights the place was crowded far beyond safe occupancy, people shoving against each other, the floors slick with liquor. Other nights it was depressingly empty, feeling somehow smaller when devoid of partiers.

In addition to the stink of stale cigarette smoke, I will always associate Silk City with being burnt by drunk stranger’s inattention to their lit cigarettes. It is the bar of lost scarves, mittens, and hats, being the only bar I’ve ever lost winter items at, although I’m fairly confident several were purloined rather than misplaced.

After closing down and undergoing a remodel Silk City is still around – now with easy access to the restaurant and a new out door courtyard. The food is now homage to diner food, rather than greasy spoon, and the bar portion has been rearranged and no longer feels quite so seedy. Drinks are more expensive, the decor rearranged. I’ve been a couple of times but it’s not the same. But the Silk City of my youth lives on in my memories.

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Memory Lane – The Griffin and the Skank buses

Thursday, January 21st, 2010

Once upon a time there was a bar in Old City called The Griffin. This bar had high pressed tin ceilings and beautiful copper walls, a long bar area and wooden booths for extra seating. It also was the home of the D.J. stylings of Lunch Money Productions on Thursday nights way back in 2006. The drink specials were great (Editors note – $5 pint cocktails if I remember. And I’m fairly sure I don’t remember.) and the company even better. But if I had to choose one memory of my time at this bar it would have to be the onslaught of Skank Buses!

The Skank Buses are those strange school buses that appear in Olde City and Northern Liberties at night. They are filled with (hopefully) 20-something college students from outside the city that are unloaded on Philadelphia corners to run the streets and into bars. The half block corner by The Griffin near 3rd and Market was a popular dumping point for these buses. Young men and women would get off of the bus and head right into the trashier old city bars (you know the ones).  We called them the Skank Buses because the ladies always dressed inappropriately for the weather and sometimes in costume, yet these college students were a force of numbers once they got off of the bus.

Sometimes, instead of going to the usual bars, some of them would stray from the pack and come directly into The Griffin. They would come in stumbling, falling, drunk and looking for more shots and a bathroom. Although most times these local students were something to be laughed at, occasionally things weren’t as funny Рwhen you look out of the window and see a girl crying on the curb of Bank St. Or one other time when the bus parked outside of the Griffin and all of the kids got off . . . except one. This time ambulances were called for someone. I guess they partied way too hard ON the bus .

Even though this isn’t a memory of actual hijinks inside of the bar from me or people I know or knew, I don’t think my Thursday nights at The Griffin would’ve been the same without those crazy buses!

Jenn Sharon

(Editors note: You didn’t even mention the omnipresent vomiting! Or when the skanks would invade for like a 10 minute dance party before abandoning the joint. Or the fact that The Griffin closed due to a mysterious fire *cough*insurance scam*cough* or the weird secret passage to the bar next door. Good memories though.)

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Memory Lane – Mom’s and Second Chances

Monday, December 21st, 2009

What's that out the window?

What's that out the window?

With the holidays around the corner, and I think nearly all of us really do take this time to reflect and appreciate good times and good friends. So in the context of ArtinBars this is a tale of two bars and one bartender that I am thankful for.

The story begins way back in July 2000. It was my birthday; and a bunch of my friends from Tower Records where I worked came out to Tattooed Mom’s to help me celebrate. We were there most of the night. Enjoying the music and drinks and birthday vibes! As the night was wrapping up we got the check of course, and everyone threw money at the person holding the check, he counted it a few times and laid it neatly in the center of the table then waved the server (the lady that wore the sunglasses all the time) over to grab it.

After that, I left. I think everyone else did too. I spent the next 15 early morning post-birthday minutes walking with my friend Brian to my Center City apartment.

Probably about a month later, August 2000, a few coworkers and I went to Tattooed Mom’s after work. We all ordered drinks, and my friend Brian and I didn’t get drinks and the other 2 people at the table did. Minutes upon minutes passed, still no drinks. We looked around . . . it wasn’t busy and our server, the same server from my birthday was nowhere to be found. Finally the server came over with a check for the two drinks, slammed it down on the table and told us to leave. The four of us looked at each other with shock! We asked why, and she started pointing at me and Brian. She explained to us that we were part of the group that stiffed her a few weeks ago. That ‘we’ racked up a large bill and didn’t pay any of it and that we were no longer welcome at Tattooed Mom’s. Brian and I were stunned. On that birthday night there were about 10 people at our table. Of course I didn’t pay for any of my drinks (but who does on their birthday?) others covered that. Plus Brian and I were one of the first to leave and there was money on the table when we were saying our goodbyes and leaving.

Dum Dums

Dum Dums

I felt terrible. Someone stole the money from the table, and stiffed the poor server. Now she was mad, I couldn’t come back to Tattooed Mom’s and none of this was my fault.

Fast forward to 2004: I’m now working mornings in Old City which leaves my afternoons free to hang out at my new favorite spot: Sugar Mom’s. After several Wednesday afternoons there, I built a friendly rapport with the Wednesday bartender; Josh. One day Josh is telling my friend and I about an event at Tattooed Mom’s that we should attend. I sighed. I decided to be straight with Josh. I told him the whole story, and why I’m not allowed at Tattooed Mom’s. Josh told me that he has worked at both of the Mom’s for years, that I am a great patron, and to stop by Tattooed Mom’s the next time he was working there and everything would be fine. I almost cried! But I didn’t. I did however count the days until the day we agreed upon. On that day I nervously walked from work to 5th and South, walked in, sat down and was greeted with a smile and a beer. I’ve never had a problem there again.

I am thankful that I was given a second chance at one of my favorite bars in Philadelphia and thankful to bartender Josh, who gave me that chance.

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Memory Lane – Venture Inn

Tuesday, December 1st, 2009
ventureout

The Venture Inn on Camac. Don't miss it!

Sometimes a bar is just a bar. You go there with friends, or because it is close by. Other times a bar may have a drink special that you love. But more often than not, the true magic from your favorite haunt comes from the distributor of libations, the keeper of recipes and tabs . . . the bartender!

The bartender can make or break a place for me. Of course I don’t want a rude bartender; forgetful is also a frustrating trait. On the other end of the spectrum too chipper or no personality at all is weird. And when you find that special barkeep you will go back to that institution again and again. And if that person leaves, you probably won’t go back again for a very long time.

So is the tale of the Venture Inn. Some folks may remember my very first ArtinBars post about a forgotten love between me and the Venture. The truth about the Venture is it is an old gay man’s bar, and I never had any business there at all. But after going a few times with friends, I noted that the bartender Anthony was very nice, and let’s just say he was heavy handed with his pours. Over time I started going a couple of times a week with my partner in drinking crime, Brian, but only on days Anthony worked because the other bartenders in the place were kind of rude. The three of us built a very awesome bartender/patron camaraderie. After a while the other regulars got to know us, and Alabama Slammers (Brian) and Red-Headed Sluts (Me) would appear before us without even ordering. Those were just the drinks assigned to us by this little community Wednesday and Friday nights on Pine and Camac.

Anthony the bartender set the tone for true awesomeness and fantastic memories. I have at least one hundred stories from my time at the Venture Inn, all of them different and fun. Most of them include TOO much fun. But what’s wrong with that? So you see dear readers the bartender is the most important part of the bar experience, they set the climate for the night. When Anthony left the Venture Inn, I only went back once. It wasn’t the same.

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