My bartender’s dead and I didn’t say goodbye.
He was a nice guy. Ken. Knew his stuff and took none. He was shot to death by local police.
I just up and quit on him one day. Not because I wanted to but because I had to. No one really wants to stop do they?
Joe’s was my favorite bar. They don’t make ‘em like Joe’s anymore. And I can’t imagine Joe’s without Ken. Standing there in the front bar – “the restaurant” he’d tell people “the bar’s in the back.” Joe’s was like my comfort place. A place I could drink and unwind, usually alone, and usually without getting into any trouble.
One semester in graduate school I was there often. Studying, reading, writing. Drinking just enough to get through 3 to 4 hours of work so that I could close my thick book and really drink. I almost acknowledged Joe’s in the comments of my 25-page writing seminar paper since I wrote most of it there and sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten through it without that lonely booth by the window, and a dos xx or cider to keeping me going. And like all good things, they end.
I was surprised and sad to read about Ken in the paper. I didn’t know much about him. I just know when I sat in his front bar area and drank, I felt comfortable, accepted, and for those few hours I belonged somewhere. At the time I didn’t even belong in my own skin.
And that’s what’s nice about a neighborhood bar, right? It somehow makes it all fit when nothing else does.
So I guess it’s time to say goodbye. I can’t imagine it will ever be the same for Ken’s regulars, let alone his family and friends. His loss has left a true void that will be felt by many. I can see his regulars now. Sitting at the front bar, having a drink. And then just out of nowhere someone will sigh and say “Ken”. And what can you do but shake your head and stare off deeply wondering why him? Why that night? And the void will then become too uncomfortable and someone will play the jukebox and his memory will fade, being revived less and less over the years. And one by one we all fade away until there was never a Ken, or a you or me or them, but hopefully there’s still a Joe’s. Update: Only there’s not even a Joe’s anymore.
RIP Ken Reiss, co-owner of Carrero’s and Joe’s Place, left this world too soon on August 11, 2020
SWL 