Roy

I originally started this site with the intention of recording a particular street corner - 2nd Avenue and 1st Street - each morning.  The inspiration came from the man I found there every morning sitting in the sun in front of Mars Bar, reading the paper or doing the crossword.  He was my constant - as the wall behind him changed almost daily, the man remained the same.  I took it for granted that he'd be there every morning, thinking as long as Mars Bar stood, he'd be there, too.





















Related post: Is there life after Mars?

Cry, 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war...

Last Friday, I found this guy sadly sitting on the curb on Houston Street.  He seemed pretty bummed to be all alone on a Friday night, so I picked him up and took him for drinks at Mars Bar.  What could possibly go wrong?

He seems a bit flashy for the joint, but Mars is known for welcoming freaks of all shapes and sizes.



My new friend orders a beer and water, then demands money for the jukebox.



He really hits it off with one of the Regulars...



After a few drinks, the urge to stand on the bar and launch into a tirade about gentrification becomes irresistible:

Friends, drunks, gentlemen, lend me your ears!
I come to bury the East Village!
The evil that men do lives after them,
The good is oft forgot with their cheap architecture;
So let it be with Mars!



Erm, something, something, something.  Then, the dreaded moment arrives...the one every Mars patron has feared at some point...

Behold!  The most horrific place on Earth!



Ah, but our friend is fortified with enough beer to conquer the most hostile environment.



I go out to get us some falafel, but take longer than expected.  When I return, I find my friend unconscious in the corner, face-down, with what looks like several bullet holes in his back.  I ask around to see what happened, but no one says anything except for a shadowy figure at the end of the bar who grumbles something about bad taste in music.



What song on the Mars jukebox could possibly induce such violence?  I guess we'll never know...



Direct link.

Good night, and thanks for the memories!


See more photos on my Flickr page.

Is there life after Mars?

As the sad news travels around the neighborhood that Mars Bar will be 'temporarily' closing, my heart sinks.  Nothing here 'temporarily' closes for two years and, even if this were true, Mars would return in name only, stripped of its iconic graffiti-covered walls and devil-may-care atmosphere. 



Mars was the original inspiration for this blog.  Since I first laid eyes on the place, I was fascinated.  My original intent was to create a film, along with a collection of photographic profiles and stories of the bar as well as its patrons.  That proved to be a task well-beyond my capabilities at the time, so I've spent the years collecting my notes until the time felt right.



Unfortunately, that time may be sooner than later.  I've always known the end of days would come during my lifetime, but never wanted to face it.  So, here we are and I don't know exactly what to say except I'm devastated.

You will get a different Mars story out of every person who has ever experienced it.  One thing that is common to all is that it's a place like no other.  It possesses a strange attraction:  I was immediately drawn to it's frantic energy, wildness, violence, hilarity, vulgarity, uniqueness, freakishness and it's unequivocal acceptance.  It's the place where everybody knows your name and no one gives a damn.



There have been times when I worried I'd be sucked too far into the insanity that is Mars.  As it attracts, it also repels.  When trying to describe the place to anyone who has never been, the descriptions tend to be terribly off-puttng:  dirty, disgusting, violent, crazy, smelly, LOUD, obnoxious, scary, gross...sticky.  At the same time, it can feel as cozy and pleasant as a second home:  friendly, welcoming, amusing, a vacation from the stresses of reality.  I admit my first few visits were to blow off steam.  I wanted to go some place where I could angrily stew and no one would bother me.  Boy, was I wrong.  Not only was I bothered but the folks around me insisted I get happy and did everything possible to make me smile.



The people I've met in Mars have varied greatly - some have been absolutely awful and terrifying, but the majority have become good friends and all of them are unforgettable.  There have been times when I needed company or amusement, so I've gone into Mars to sit and let the entertainment roll right in.  It never fails to turn any dull day/night into something worthy of its own screenplay. 

I will definitely write more in the coming weeks and months, as this whole experience settles in my mind.  I imagine there will be a flurry of photos, essays, blog posts, articles and videos from many people as I know so many are upset and want to share their own stories.

One fellow Mars fan is AWKWORD, who created the video below.  As he says,

In the spirit of preservation and cultural appreciation, this summer, I, an East Village-based emcee and activist known as AWKWORD, elected to film the music video for my revolutionary anthem "The People's Champ" at Mars Bar. The song being rallying call for a People's Revolution, it seemed fitting to film its accompanying video at a landmark known for its open-door policy for people of all ilks (except maybe Wall Streeters and corrupt cops/politicians)

 During the filming a few months ago, as I rapped before the cameras, with political Mars Bar art being created behind us and a luxury condo complex staring down from across the street, I despairingly presaged a near-future East Village in which ALL the Mars Bars, thrift shops and moms-and-pops are closed... And, unfortunately, it appears my fears may come to fruition.

Direct YouTube link here.

Parting shot:



This 2005 mural reads:  "If you make it in NYC, you made it."

Sigh...


Related post:  Roy

'Til we meet again

Forever, and forever, farewell . . . !
If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;
If not, why then this parting was well made.
                                                                                     -- Julius Caesar




For the last several weeks, I've made sure to stop by the former Mars Bar on a daily basis and document its demise.  I had plans to do a big post on the demolition, taking close to 300 photos and video.  Then, the day came recently when the building was entirely gone and I was released from my task.  But, the obsession that had driven me to get over there each day before the sun dipped below the new and futuristic skyline, had also disappeared.

Rather than a pile of rubble being my last memory of the place, I want to remember the SW corner of 2nd Avenue and 1st Street as being a spot where I had some of the best times and met some really awesome people.

















Since Mars closed last July, I've stayed in touch with many Martians, but there has been nothing to replace that tiny, grungy room that brought everyone together and embodied such fun and chaos.  Nowhere else have I found a place that encourages (or allows) its patrons to express themselves with such childish glee.  Although there are plenty of other bars/restaurants/galleries/parks in which to hang out and pass the time, my heart still aches for something that has been permanently lost.

You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by; but some of them are golden only because we let them slip by.    -- J. M. Barrie

For those interested, you can see some demolition pictures on my Flickr page.  I've posted them at the end of the set and they're in chronological order.

Previously.

While we're on the subject of Mars...

Vivienne Gucwa has published a wonderful essay on Mars Bar that is a must-read, especially for anyone trying to get a fix on what it is people are so upset about.  Her photos are beautiful and capture that late-afternoon feeling, when the bar seems to exhale, relishing in that moment of calm before the next wave of chaos comes crashing through the door.


photo by Vivienne Gucwa

You can see more of her Mars Bar photos here.

I'm still struggling with the thought of an East Village without Mars.  I stopped in on Christmas Day, expecting it to be filled with sadness and depression, but to my relief, it wasn't at all.  In fact, the bar was full and when I walked in, I was greeted with many familiar smiles and cheerful hellos. 

I think, for me, this marked the last stage of grief in mourning the loss of Mars:  Acceptance.  I'm pretty sure I covered all the other stages in just a few days prior:

Denial - Noooooo!  This can't be happening, there must be a mistake!

Anger - WTF?!  Damn developers!  Does no one care about anything?!  F-ing gentrification, money, greed, Bloomberg, blah blah blah!!

Bargaining - Ok, maybe something can be worked out.  Mars can stay open during construction...we'll just find another nearby bar...if I can just win the lotto, I'll buy the whole lot and leave it as-is.

Depression - Hey, bartender, how about another round?  Keep 'em coming...

Acceptance -  Merry Christmas.  Happy New Year.  It's just a room; the patrons and Mars spirit live on, and will always outshine anything that comes to that corner.

If you're losing your soul and you know it, then you've still got a soul left to lose.  

--Charles Bukowski

More to come, stay tuned...

Related: Is there life after Mars?

Related: Roy

Happy Days

See Also:
Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war
Mars art show this Sunday
From Mars, with love
The Mars way - dive in
Easter at Mars
While we're on the subject of Mars
Is there life after Mars?
Roy

Moments

Happy Friday, everyone.


Previously:
Falling star
Souvenir
End of an ers
Happy days
Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war
From Mars, with love
Easter at Mars
While we're on the subject of Mars
Is there life after Mars?
Roy

Hank

I am saddened by the news this week that Hank Penza passed away October 29.

Larger than life, he was, among many other things, the owner of Mars Bar.  I knew him as an older man, but he seemed so commanding and invincible, I just assumed he'd live forever.

The man is, was, and will always be a legend.



Hank told a million stories, and there are a million more told about him, but the one I like to tell is this:

It was the last day of Mars Bar.  The bar itself had already closed, but it was the last day before the keys were turned over to the new owner.  I spent the afternoon with Hank as he held court on the corner of 2nd Avenue and 1st Street.

The hours passed as a steady stream of people came and went, some just passing by to say hello, others lingering a while to say goodbye or wish Hank good luck.

Late in the afternoon, during a span of calm, Jonas Mekas appeared, crossing the avenue from his Anthology Film Archives. He approached Hank, who sat in his office chair, and with a smile, took Hank's hand. He held it a few seconds, then said, "It's been an honor and pleasure to be your neighbor."  He gave a short nod, then returned the way he came.

After watching Mekas fade across the avenue, Hank turned to me with tears in his eyes (really!).  He put his hand to his chest and said, "Do you know who that was?  A wonderful filmmaker. I am humbled."

We sat there wordlessly for a while, letting the moment sink in.

Mars Bar in the Morning IX

Mars Bar - Let's Party!, originally uploaded by Goggla.

The walls keep changing, but the man remains the same...this and the following photos are of the 'Morning Man' who sits outside Mars Bar on 2nd Ave & 1st Street. I see him on my morning walk and he is one of the few things in this city that doesn't seem to change. The graffiti is different nearly every day, the building next door was torn down and replaced by a condo block and the same is happening directly across the street. The world keeps spinning, but Morning Man holds his ground.

July 19, 2007

At home in Mars

Are you getting sick of all this yet? Well, as I've said before, I originally started this site to showcase the Mars Bar. I just never thought I'd live to see its demise, so forgive me while I keep posting...

Here's Mike, making the Hank pins that were so popular in the last several weeks.



I'm kicking myself for not placing my last order for Renee's catfish.



One of my favorite memories of Mars was me sitting at the bar one weekend afternoon, reading a book. The bar phone rang and the bartender called out, "Hey, it's for you!" Uhhh...? Who one earth would call me there?? I picked up the receiver and heard the familiar voice of Renee asking me if I wanted a catfish sandwich. Hell yeah! Ray was dispatched to Chinatown to pick up the fish and, shortly thereafter, here comes Renee into the bar carrying a hot sandwich wrapped in a paper towel. It smelled divine and tasted out of this world.

Thank you, Renee, for your kindness, generosity and most amazing cooking! Yours is the best catfish on this planet, hands down.

And, lest we forget Mars was a scholarly hangout...




Previously.