Jeers and Cheers
We’ve all been hearing about how nasty people have been acting lately. Christ, you’ve got people sucker-punching flight attendants, riding your bumper on the road and going after waitstaff at restaurants.
Down on Cape Cod the other day, the owner of a breakfast joint closed the place after a customer yelled at a waitress and told her, “I hope you get hit by a car when you leave work today.” Ay-yi-goddamn-ay. I guess the lady’s flapjacks didn’t arrive on time.
A lot of their waitstaff are summer help or first-time workers. And we all know about the labor shortage, especially in restaurants. Instead of hurling insults, customers should be showing their gratitude. But as my old buddy Buck Norman used to say, “There’s no pancake so thin that it doesn’t have two sides.”
So here’s the flipside.
At Sevens Ale House on Beacon Hill in Boston, they spiffed up the old wooden floor and reopened the neighborhood standby after 15 long months. The regulars all came back opening night to see their long-lost friends.
Sevens opened its swinging doors in 1933. Bartender Johnnie Martin answers to “Handsome” and the customers treat him warmly and with respect. When his father died, Handsome was showered with support.
There’s a lot of banter in that place. That’s what people were missing. People celebrate everything here. First dates, anniversaries, New Year’s Eve and post-funeral get-togethers when they’ve said goodbye to an old friend. They’ll tell stories about the long-gone for hours. When the bar closed, it was tough on the regulars. They missed the camaraderie. This is a place in Boston where everybody really knows your name.
Hey, two great books about local bars like the Sevens: The Tender Bar by JR Moehringer and The Little Chapel On The River by Gwendolyn Bounds. Keep your dukes up.