Take Me Back To The Village Pub

BB King’s of Times Square closed its doors recently and another concert venue bit the dust. 

There was once a string of such clubs from New York City to San Francisco where a band could hang its hat – most, alas, now mere memories.

Just as important, pubs that acted as minor league venues for these clubs dotted the country. Nowhere boasted as many of these musical saloons as The Bronx.

What was it about “the only borough on the mainland” that made it stand out musically from Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan, and Staten Island?

Well, for starters, Bronxites expected live music with their booze. This could range from a solitary box player to a full fledged Irish showband or Latino orchestra, dolled up to the nines and shaking the very rafters with their rhythm and brass sections.

I have to confess that my various landlords in the East Village would have had even less hair for the pulling if a number of disparate Bronx pub owners hadn’t thrown me a gig from time to time.

Chief among them were Phil Delaney from Carrick-on-Suir who operated Durty Nelly’s on Kingsbridge, Tom Brogan and his bon vivant manager Sean Lynch of The Archway, and the mighty John Flynn of The Village Pub.

Ah, I can sense that eyes are misting up in Woodlawn, Pearl River, and all other points of the compass at the memories these revered names are conjuring. 

It’s amazing there are any memories at all, for the sheer rate of drinking in each of these establishments seems staggering in retrospect.

Back in the years I’m referencing, the 70’s and 80’s, many of us were undocumented (don’t tell Mr. Trump), rents were cheap as was booze, the craic was mighty, and there was a flirtatious sparkle in many the eye.

Allow me to dwell on The Village, as it was fondly known. I’m afraid I have trouble describing this hallowed establishment since I never darkened its door in daylight – I did spend dawn-lit morning there but who was observing décor then?

However, as best I can recall, it was small, woody, full to the gills, throbbing with music, and conversation often peppered with first class slagging.   

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It was also very dark; on my first visit, while lugging in an amplifier, I tripped over a customer who was taking a nap on the carpeted floor.

Upon offering my bruised apologies his friends informed me there was no problem - Paddy often lay there to regroup out of harm’s way after the long day on the site and the prospect of a night’s dancing ahead in the Archway.

Unlike many Bronx establishments you were not required to play any particular type of music, still John Flynn expected it to be top shelf. 

I would go so far as to say that John was mainly responsible for the nurturing of original music in the Irish Bronx, for he demanded that at some point in the evening musicians stretch beyond their usual repertoire and highlight their chops to the best of their abilities.

With many of our Northern brethren present there was little love for the British Army, and a radical anarchistic Republicanism reigned. 

I’ve always found such circumstances conducive to experimentation, for it’s far easier put an original spin on Sean South of Garyowen than Cracklin’ Rosie.

“Nice girls did not go The Village,” a somewhat matronly lady informed me recently. I was forced to disagree, for ‘twas there I met Morningstar. Mary Courtney, Margie Mulvihill, and Carmel Johnston were not only crack musicians but unfailingly friendly and ladylike, which was saying something given the state of many of us.

The music ranged from Jazz to Trad – with many detours in between - and I can visualize a legion of players not limited to Paddy Higgins, Eileen Ivers, Gabriel Donohue, Chris Byrne, Joanie Madden, Pierce Turner, Robbie Furlong, Morningstar et al, jamming late into the night.

It was a passionate place, and there were disagreements aplenty, many a heart was broken, but many a match also made in this small heaven.  

I often think of The Village for it left a decided mark on me. I hope all the friends I made there are thriving. What nights – and early mornings – we had!