Wicked Hot Bah Maid, Wicked Good Bah Fight, Two Cop Cahs: Another Night At a Cambridge Dive Bah...

In 1978 I decided it was time to go back to school. After I was accepted to Northeastern University I spent an entire hot August day looking for a studio apartment in the Beacon St. area of Boston. By 3:30 I was tired, thirsty, and frustrated because I hadn't found anything even remotely close to what I needed, so I took a seat on some stairs in front of a building a half a block from Kenmore Square and a few doors down from the back of Al Capone's Pizza. When the door suddenly opened behind me I turned and saw that the lettering on the glass said "Norge Realty Corp". How could I have missed it? I went inside and told the woman at the front desk I was looking for an inexpensive studio apartment and she said she had one in the building. She took me up a flight of stairs, turned left, unlocked the dark stained wooden door, pushed it open, and let me in.

The 16' x 12' studio apartment had marble floors, a beautiful fireplace, high ceilings, two tall double-hung windows that filled the room with natural light, a small breakfast bar, a mini-stove, and a mini-fridge. It was perfect, but where was the bathroom? (There's always a caveat) The bathroom was out in the hallway and it was shared with the people who worked in the realty office. It was not private... The apartment was only $200 a month, within walking distance of Northeastern, and less than a quarter-mile from Fenway Park. I immediately said I'd take it, despite the unusual bathroom arrangement.

Sure there were cockroaches like there was in every building in Boston and lots of pizza-loving rats scampering across the sidewalk behind Al Capone's, but what I wasn't counting on was one of the realtor's taking his morning dump before I had a chance to take mine! That guy always stunk up the bathroom and eventually, I started getting up early and beating him to the punch. It was an old building and unfortunately, there wasn't a bathroom fan...

I was a physical education major and I had a full schedule, but I needed a part-time job to make ends meet. My cousin Mark just graduated from M.I.T. and was still bartending a few nights a week at Father's Fore in Cambridge. He said he was leaving Father's once he started his full-time job at General Electric and he could try and get me in before he left. He set me up with an interview and I was hired as a bouncer and told if it worked out I could do some bartending too. 

Fathers had bars scattered around Boston and although I know it's an oxymoron, they were all "legitimate dive bars". They were well-worn, dimly-lit, unglamorous bars with no dress code that featured jukeboxes, sticky floors and served up a cheap, simple selection of drinks to a regular clientele. They were great places to get hammered if you were on a tight budget! There was another one closer to my apartment, but the one in Cambridge was only a two-mile walk and it seemed like a great place to work. The footprint was small, with an area across from the bar that was separated by a half wall and had a dozen tables. The bar was always crowded with a mix of college students and locals. It was also the favorite watering hole for a lot of the Cambridge cops, which was a good thing because although they were off-duty, their presence provided an added layer of security. 

When I worked at Father's Fore a bottle of Bud was .90 cents and a Michelob $1.10. A pitcher of draft beer with frosted mugs was only $1.55 and a mixed drink was $2.00, with top-shelf booze, slightly higher. We served up plenty of Bacardi and Cokes, Tanqueray and Tonics, Kahlúa Sombreros, Sea Breezes, Screwdrivers, Bloody Mary's, and filled a lot of shot glasses with good ole Jackie D. Bartenders were required to pour mixed drinks out of a traditional shot glass and the owner hired spotters to make sure no one was over pouring. When I got my chance behind the bar I learned the art of the patron-friendly long pour, which led to better tips, but you had to keep your eyes out for the spotters...

My first responsibilities though were as a bouncer. I was 22, in great shape, and with a temperament that was well-suited for my position at the door. In addition to my duties as a bouncer, I was the one who climbed down a short ladder into the low basement where we kept cases of beer, bottles of booze, and the kegs, which I changed whenever they went dry.

There were usually only four of us working at a time. Kevin was the manager and bartender. He had a full head of light brown hair combed to one side, was just over six feet tall, and about 180 lbs. He was a former B.U. hockey goalie and he wasn't intimidated by anyone. If he had to, he'd stick his chin in anybody's face, but otherwise, he was a friendly guy with lots of female admirers who came in for drinks and good conversation at the bar. Kevin was a big fan of "The Kinks" and he played a lot of his favorites on the jukebox to keep the place lively. "Lola" was a bar favorite and a loud, spirited chorus was always ready and waiting. Sometimes we played it more than once in the same night and the regulars never tired of it.

"Lola" was to Father's Fore what "Sweet Caroline" is to Fenway Park

"Bear" was the other bartender and he got his nickname because of his body type. He was 5 foot 10 and around 200 lbs, with a short beard, and the first responder when there was trouble. He turned breaking up a bar fight into an art form. And, there was one barmaid I regularly worked with who also waited tables. She was 5 foot 4 with short bleach-blonde hair, a great face, a hot buxom body, and some real swag. She reminded me of Mae West. We were all very protective of her, not that she couldn't take care of herself...

Mae West was a sharp-tongued, buxom blonde who became a popular comedic sex symbol  

My favorite part of the job was handing out "Ladies Night" cards. Every Tuesday was "Ladies Night" in all the Father's bars and if the ladies presented a card, mixed drinks were only a quarter. I was tasked with handing out the cards in the days prior and I became an instant favorite of the ladies. Tuesday nights were crazy! Because of all the ladies, guys showed up and bar was packed tight like a can of sardines. I went into the basement often to bring up cases of beer and to change over the kegs. We had big nights on Tuesdays which otherwise would have been pretty slow. 

Disco became the popular dance music of the late '70s and no one did it better than "Kool & the Gang" (video is all hot ladies on hot cars)

Then, someone went to court to argue that "Ladies Night" was unconstitutional because it was exclusive to one sex. They won the case and that ended "Ladies Night" for good. We were still packing them in, just not on Tuesday nights. 

We had several regulars. There was "Manhattan Mary". She was in her mid to late 50s, with narrow eyes and a permanent drunk-smile glued to her aging face. She wore a small black, wool pork pie hat with a bright-colored decorative flower pinned to one side. I don't remember her ever taking off her coat. She was a nightly fixture, sitting in the same place at the bar and consuming her daily quota of Manhattans. I found out that after her husband died she started drinking heavily. Kevin always poured her the "just one more" she pleaded for, not that he was easy, but he was sympathetic to Mary's story. He knew when to cut her off and when he did she knew to pack it up and head for home, Kevin wasn't changing his mind…

There was a small guy in his early 50s, about 5 foot 4, who wore a flat cap, wheeled his ten-speed bike in, hung it on the wall at the end of the bar closest to the door, and did shots all night until he was just as drunk as "Manhattan Mary", who he regularly sat next to. I have no idea what they talked about or if they even spoke to each other. Mary's muffled voice was so hard to understand, especially when she was hammered. That's when she would start communicating with facial expressions and body language only, like a mime…

In the front, by the door, there was a Foosball table and the locals played some very competitive games there. They were in their late 20s-early-30s, drank heavily, and got loud at times, but it was an excitable loud and it always got my attention and everybody else's too. No matter what was going on, Foosball always seemed more important, like a championship was on the line, but it was just about bragging rights. The "Foosball Guys" were big drinkers and good customers… 

Once things settled down, usually around 9:30, I took a seat next to the door where I could see all the action and check out the late arrivals before they entered the bar. If they were too drunk I could turn 'em around and tell 'em to find another bar to drink at. Kevin would look at me from across the bar and shake his head "No" when he wanted me to turn someone around.

One night, a guy in his late 20s, around 5 foot 10, who weighed at least 300lbs., walked into the bar with two short, thin guys with military buzz cuts on either side of him. They went up to the bar and stood just to the right of the bar flap and ordered three Michelobs. Kevin got three out of the bottle cooler under the bar, opened them, and after setting 'em down in front of the three patrons he said, "That'll be $3.30". The big guy looked at Kevin and responded with, "I'll catch up with you in a few minutes". Kevin paused and then nodded his head and said "Okay". He wanted to avoid a potential confrontation and decided to give them a chance to pay, but he gave me a look that said "keep your eyes on these guys".

After 10 minutes and with their bottles just about empty, Kevin walked back over and said "I'll take that $3.30 now…". The big guy copped an attitude and said, "When I'm ready…". Kevin didn't wait, "The beers are on the house, but you have to leave, now.". My back went up and I walked over and so did "Bear", a sign that we weren't gonna take any shit. They took their sweet time, but Bear and I escorted them out of the bar without making a scene.

Kevin told me to hang by the door for a while to see if they were gonna try and get back in. There was an outside door that opened into a small breezeway, and a second door that had to be opened to get into the bar. That's the one I sat next to. Every time I heard the first door open I readied myself for a confrontation, but after an hour and a half, they hadn't come back. I got a Coke, a bag of chips and sat in my chair by the door watching the Bruins on the small TV hanging on the wall by the end of the bar. 

I heard the first door open and then the second one opened quickly. They were back and the big guy had a red brick in each hand and he didn't wait, hurling 'em both at Kevin. The bricks whizzed by "Manhattan Mary" and the "Flat Cap Guy" and Kevin used his goalie skills to avoid being hit. The bricks shattered several rows of top-shelf liquor bottles and destroyed the mirror behind them. I pounced on the big guy and Bear came over and took on the two smaller guys. Kevin jumped over the bar to help and the barmaid called the Cambridge Police.

Using both hands, I grabbed the big guy just above his elbows on his fleshy biceps and I danced him towards the door. He was really easy to move despite being 300 lbs… Once I pushed him through the first door, Bear opened the second one and all three of them landed hard on the concrete sidewalk. The cops were quick to arrive with two cruisers and a paddy wagon. They were chasing the big guy around the paddy wagon and it was actually hysterical. It was like an old "Fatty Arbuckle" film, we knew he wouldn't last long. After a few laps around the truck, he was gasping for air and when he slowed to a stop the cops handcuffed him and threw him in the back of the paddy wagon with his two friends…

Roscoe "Fatty"  Arbuckle was a silent film star who just killed it with physical comedy

The bar cleared out quickly. The "Foosball Guys" booked in a hurry and fortunately "Manhattan Mary" and the "Flat Cap Guy" who were both in the middle of it all, escaped uninjured. Kevin poured each of them another drink on the house while we regrouped.

With everyone gone we cleaned up the broken glass while Kevin talked to the cops outside. By the time he came back in most of the glass was picked up and we all sat at the bar and knocked down several shots of Jackie D and talked about what happened. When I finally left it was after 3:00 a.m., which wasn't an uncommon time for me to leave the bar. We regularly indulged ourselves after hours and 3:00 became my normal departure time. On that night, as I was walking across the Harvard Bridge, which is the longest bridge that goes over the Charles River (2,164 feet long), I decided it would be better if I ran home just in case those jerks got released and came back with reinforcements. After all, I'm no Harry Houdini…

Harry Houdini jumped off a lot of bridges. Here he is jumping off the Harvard Bridge in handcuffs back in April of 1908

After that incident and without "Ladies Night" the bar became kinda quiet. Of course, that's when I finally got behind the bar. Tips? Four future engineers from M.I.T. became regulars and they always ordered a pitcher with four frosted mugs. They handed me two dollars and waited for their change. After a while, I started tossing the .45 cents into the pitcher and told them they'd get their change when they finished the beer. A bunch of cheap, non-tipping pricks! 

"Manhattan Mary" and the "Flat Cap Guy" continued coming in and the "Foosball Guys" all came back. A couple of late-night hockey players waiting for their ice time became regulars too. It took a while for the business to pick up again, and it did, but it was never as busy as it was when I first started.

The kid who threw the bricks at Kevin was convicted of Aggravated Assault: An unlawful attack by one person upon another for the purpose of inflicting severe or aggravated bodily injury. He served jail time for his stunt…

People come and go in bars like Father's Fore. Not only patrons but employees like my cousin Mark and myself, who needed part-time jobs while we were going to school. After I left someone else took my seat at the door and my place behind the bar. They went downstairs to change kegs and bring up cases of beer. They turned people around at the door and broke up fights when they had to. But, we all became part of a unique "dive bar" family, even if short-lived, and in my case, I'll always treasure the memories I have of that time in my life… 

In the comments section, tell me about your favorite "Dive Bar" and what made it special.

One for the road…

A bar owner in northern Maine had seen his business dry up during the pandemic. In fact, not a single customer in four months! He continued opening every day, preparing the bar, and waiting…

One afternoon he heard the door open and when he looked up in walked a very large Gorilla. At first, the bar owner was startled by the presence of the beast, but once the seemingly well-mannered Gorilla was seated, he figured the Ape was okay. He stayed a safe distance, but then he carefully moved towards the hair-covered patron and asked in a friendly tone, "What can I get you?" The Ape pointed to the Beefeater Gin and then an unopened bottle of Gordon's dry Vermouth and holding up his index finger he motioned for one. The bartender asked, "One Classic Martini?" The Gorilla nodded his massive head in agreement. 

Once the ingredients had been combined in a mixing glass full of ice, stirred for 20 seconds, and strained into a chilled v-shaped Martini glass, where it was properly garnished with a slice of lemon peel, the bartender carefully placed the finished cocktail on a coaster in front of the waiting Gorilla. Then, figuring "what the heck do Gorillas know about money?" he said, "That'll be twenty dollars". Without hesitation, the Gorilla placed a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and began sipping his drink… 

With the payment secured in the cash register, the bartender slid down the bar, and in an attempt to make small talk he said, "We don't get many Gorillas in here…" To which the Gorilla immediately responded, "At 20 bucks a fuckin' Martini I don't expect you would-"