OLYMPIC DIVES
Lovejoy’s…R.I.P.!
The summer Olympics sucked. At least the winter Olympics have insane events
like luge and ski-jumping, things that had to have originated from drunken
Nordic bets. I could care less who in the world can run, jump, or throw a stick
the furthest. And Olympic diving is just scoring people for their ability to
jump into the pool.
But it’s the other dives that have been on my mind lately, compounded by the
fact that my favorite downtown dive closed its doors in August. Lovejoy’s was
always one of the few bars in the Sixth Street area that I could abide by, along
with the original Emo’s and Casino El Camino. But Emo’s was a fairly high
profile music venue and Casino is more of an actual “bar” than a dive. Lovejoy’s
was always just what it was, and unashamedly so. It was dark and dank and it
smelled of stale beer, among other things. The ripped up upholstery was on
furniture that never matched to begin with and if there was a stable, level
table in the place I sure never found it. As for clientele, for years I’ve been
telling people that I liked going to Lovejoy’s because I knew it was going to be
filled with scuzzy people. And it never disappointed me in that.
Which made me feel right at home, as I’ve been scuzzy my whole damn life. My
mother used to be in the bar business up in Temple, TX and she ran and worked in
some of the scuzziest, most classic dives ever. Bikers mingled with rednecks and
railroad workers shot pool with neighborhood Latinos. But it wasn’t like
everyone was sitting around singing Kumbaya, there were some pretty epic fights
in those dives and the term “take it outside” came up pretty often. It was a
great training ground for me, and taught me to keep my mouth shut and my eyes
open. 
And I always got that same
old vibe whenever I stepped into Lovejoy’s, though to their credit there was far
less random violence there. In fact I never encountered anything worse than some
raised voices at Lovejoy’s, pretty remarkable considering the amount of alcohol
being consumed. But I could always count on some bikers being there, both
motorized and pedal, as well as plenty of tattooed women and some truly
memorable neighborhood denizens. And the local denizens could be a real hoot,
considering that the Salvation Army was located just a couple of blocks away.
More than once I dropped in and saw someone who earlier in the day had been
standing at an intersection with one of those “homeless please help” signs now
happily drinking up their profits. And I was hustled for beer there by people
whose convoluted stories for why they needed one was worth the price of a sixer
at least. It was a place I could order a cold, cheap beer and then just sit back
and watch everything unfold around me. People watching at its very finest. 
It was also the lynchpin of my ROT Rally strategy every year, my home base
during the madness downtown. I had written about that a couple of issues ago, (http://rankandrevue.com/archives/821), and at the time
it seemed like a good strategy to share, though I had no idea then that it would
be the last year of me following that path. Hanging at Lovejoy’s during ROT just
always seemed the perfect way of handling the situation. There was good, cold
craft beer at bargain prices, none of the over-the-top attitudes from further
down the street, and still an interesting mix of people. Two Rallies ago I
remember sitting at the bar, next to me were an older couple who seemed in their
sixties. They were very friendly, turned out he was retired military and they
had no idea there was going to be a major motorcycle rally in town when they
planned their trip. But they were just bemused by it all, we had a very nice
conversation about motorcycles and life in Austin and ended up buying each other
beer before they headed out to meet friends at Scholtz’s. I wondered then just
how they came to be drinking in Lovejoy’s to begin with, but I think it was just
that kind of place. 
Lovejoy’s was like a
magnet for folks such as the retired couple and the Salvation Army refugees.
There are some places that you are drawn to without ever knowing why. Even the
out of town bikers who came in during ROT seemed to be drawn in, it was always
the old school bikers and none of the annoying RUBs (Rich Urban Bikers) who came
in. While the RUBs were up on Maggie Mae’s roof in their matching leathers the
real bikers were down at Lovejoy’s, downing beer and playing pool just as they
would have at whatever dive they inhabited back home. Losing Lovejoy’s is going
to put a big hole in a lot of folks ROT plans, not just my own.
And when I think of that loss it brings to mind the other dives that used to
dot Sixth Street, little oases of cool in a vast desert of lame. One that jumps
to mind is Danny Crook’s old Steamboat, one of the last worthwhile live venues
on Sixth itself. When it went under and the Aquarium Club opened in its spot I
vowed never to step in there and I never will. 
But the loss of my business
doesn’t seem to have mattered, the Aquarium is still open ,a horrible reminder
of what’s happened to the “entertainment district”. But more than Steamboat, I
mainly miss the old Black Cat Lounge,the coolest dive to ever sit on Sixth
Street, and the closest thing to an actual “biker bar” that ever existed on
Sixth. Back in the late 80’s you could still drive down Sixth at night, the cops
hadn’t started barricading it yet. 
And it was also before
the open container law was passed so you could still walk around with a beer in
your hand. We Harley riders used to park our bikes in front of the Black Cat
while the foreign bikes all parked in front of the Ritz. Technically the Black
Cat couldn’t sell beer to go so the drill was to go inside, buy a beer and then
step out back, stick it down your pants, and walk back out. It was wonderful,
you could listen to the band playing inside, drink a beer and stand by your bike
waiting for some girl to come by wanting a ride. Some of my best nights in
Austin were spent down there and there hasn’t been a scene like it since. When
the Black Cat burned down it was pretty much the end of me going to Sixth,
nothing was going to replace it. And it doesn’t go without notice that the
property owners down there have never tried to develop that space again. After
several years of being like the missing tooth in a sickly grin, a façade was
finally placed over the empty lot with a sign proclaiming Austin the live music
capitol of the world. Apparently the irony is lost to all.
There were some other worthwhile dives around back then as well, Joe’s
Generic Bar definitely comes to mind. Joe’s was like a companion bar to the
Black Cat, if memory serves they were next door to each other. And their
bookings were pretty much the same, loud raunchy rock-n-roll. Joe’s had a great
spokesman, Curley, a Mr. Clean lookalike who worked the door and was featured in
their print ads. Joe’s didn’t last as long as the Black Cat, but for the live
music fans who still went to Sixth back then it was truly memorable. 
But if you want to track Sixth
Street dives back to their genesis, you have to go back to the very beginning of
the Sixth Street musical scene, and to the original Antone’s Nightclub. The
actual building where Antone’s once stood is long gone, torn down for the
endless stream of high dollar condos that make up so much of downtown now. But
that first Antone’s was a true dive. Clifford Antone opened it up on a
shoestring budget and it was meant as a listening spot for gritty, grimy blues,
nothing upscale about it. The current incarnation of Antone’s has about as much
relevance to its original as the Aquarium has to Steamboat, just another
reminder of how things have changed here in Austin.
And now Lovejoy’s is gone too, but at least it went out with a bang. Its last
night of live music was on Thursday August 2nd with the ace lineup of
Honky, Party Wizard, Amplified Heat and Scorpion Child. I rode in early that
night and parked my Indian one last time out front with the other bikes. At six
o’clock the place was already packed in with the same familiar strangers I had
been seeing for years, the same bartenders pouring me pints. And while I was
sitting there at the bar I had the same experiences I always had, total
strangers coming up asking about the Indian or just making that wonderful drunk
babble that comes from too much beer and too much emotion. And all in all it was
just so much the typical Lovejoy’s experience that I really had trouble staying
focused on it being my last time there. So I ended up riding off early, leaving
the ever increasing crowd of well-wishers there to give the place the sendoff it
so much deserved.
And now we’re left to wonder what the next move will be. Owner Eric Wolf has
posted a statement to their Facebook page saying that there might be a new
location at some time in the future, but I have mixed feelings over that. Back
when the old Armadillo World Headquarters had its location sold out from under
it there was some talk of trying to open again at another location, but I think
in the long run everyone agreed that you can’t move magic. I have the same
feelings about the new Emo’s. I really wished they would have changed their name
when they changed their address. I’ll never be able to think of that place out
on Riverside as really being Emo’s. And I can’t imagine Lovejoys being anywhere
other than there in its just-off-the-thoroughfare location, close by the
Salvation Army and stumbling distance to so many lesser places. And as much as
I’d like to be able to see the old familiar faces again I’m really afraid that
you just can’t transplant that incredible dive personality to another location.
And without that Lovejoy’s might just become another faceless bar in a bar scene
that just gets more homogenized at every turn. But I also imagine that I will be
one of those watching and waiting for some kind of notice that there will be a
new location, some new spot to try and catch lightning twice. And when it
happens my Indian will be one of the first bikes out front, still looking for
respite from the ROT insanity. And I’ll be inside, drinking a toast to the gold
medal winner for Austin dives.
Rev Jim 
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to Issue Main Menu
Olympic Dives…Lovejoy’s is Closing by Rev Jim
OLYMPIC DIVES
Lovejoy’s…R.I.P.!
The summer Olympics sucked. At least the winter Olympics have insane events like luge and ski-jumping, things that had to have originated from drunken Nordic bets. I could care less who in the world can run, jump, or throw a stick the furthest. And Olympic diving is just scoring people for their ability to jump into the pool.
But it’s the other dives that have been on my mind lately, compounded by the fact that my favorite downtown dive closed its doors in August. Lovejoy’s was always one of the few bars in the Sixth Street area that I could abide by, along with the original Emo’s and Casino El Camino. But Emo’s was a fairly high profile music venue and Casino is more of an actual “bar” than a dive. Lovejoy’s was always just what it was, and unashamedly so. It was dark and dank and it smelled of stale beer, among other things. The ripped up upholstery was on furniture that never matched to begin with and if there was a stable, level table in the place I sure never found it. As for clientele, for years I’ve been telling people that I liked going to Lovejoy’s because I knew it was going to be filled with scuzzy people. And it never disappointed me in that.
Which made me feel right at home, as I’ve been scuzzy my whole damn life. My mother used to be in the bar business up in Temple, TX and she ran and worked in some of the scuzziest, most classic dives ever. Bikers mingled with rednecks and railroad workers shot pool with neighborhood Latinos. But it wasn’t like everyone was sitting around singing Kumbaya, there were some pretty epic fights in those dives and the term “take it outside” came up pretty often. It was a great training ground for me, and taught me to keep my mouth shut and my eyes open.
And I always got that same
old vibe whenever I stepped into Lovejoy’s, though to their credit there was far
less random violence there. In fact I never encountered anything worse than some
raised voices at Lovejoy’s, pretty remarkable considering the amount of alcohol
being consumed. But I could always count on some bikers being there, both
motorized and pedal, as well as plenty of tattooed women and some truly
memorable neighborhood denizens. And the local denizens could be a real hoot,
considering that the Salvation Army was located just a couple of blocks away.
More than once I dropped in and saw someone who earlier in the day had been
standing at an intersection with one of those “homeless please help” signs now
happily drinking up their profits. And I was hustled for beer there by people
whose convoluted stories for why they needed one was worth the price of a sixer
at least. It was a place I could order a cold, cheap beer and then just sit back
and watch everything unfold around me. People watching at its very finest. 
It was also the lynchpin of my ROT Rally strategy every year, my home base during the madness downtown. I had written about that a couple of issues ago, (http://rankandrevue.com/archives/821) , and at the time
it seemed like a good strategy to share, though I had no idea then that it would
be the last year of me following that path. Hanging at Lovejoy’s during ROT just
always seemed the perfect way of handling the situation. There was good, cold
craft beer at bargain prices, none of the over-the-top attitudes from further
down the street, and still an interesting mix of people. Two Rallies ago I
remember sitting at the bar, next to me were an older couple who seemed in their
sixties. They were very friendly, turned out he was retired military and they
had no idea there was going to be a major motorcycle rally in town when they
planned their trip. But they were just bemused by it all, we had a very nice
conversation about motorcycles and life in Austin and ended up buying each other
beer before they headed out to meet friends at Scholtz’s. I wondered then just
how they came to be drinking in Lovejoy’s to begin with, but I think it was just
that kind of place. 
Lovejoy’s was like a
magnet for folks such as the retired couple and the Salvation Army refugees.
There are some places that you are drawn to without ever knowing why. Even the
out of town bikers who came in during ROT seemed to be drawn in, it was always
the old school bikers and none of the annoying RUBs (Rich Urban Bikers) who came
in. While the RUBs were up on Maggie Mae’s roof in their matching leathers the
real bikers were down at Lovejoy’s, downing beer and playing pool just as they
would have at whatever dive they inhabited back home. Losing Lovejoy’s is going
to put a big hole in a lot of folks ROT plans, not just my own.
And when I think of that loss it brings to mind the other dives that used to dot Sixth Street, little oases of cool in a vast desert of lame. One that jumps to mind is Danny Crook’s old Steamboat, one of the last worthwhile live venues on Sixth itself. When it went under and the Aquarium Club opened in its spot I vowed never to step in there and I never will.
But the loss of my business
doesn’t seem to have mattered, the Aquarium is still open ,a horrible reminder
of what’s happened to the “entertainment district”. But more than Steamboat, I
mainly miss the old Black Cat Lounge,the coolest dive to ever sit on Sixth
Street, and the closest thing to an actual “biker bar” that ever existed on
Sixth. Back in the late 80’s you could still drive down Sixth at night, the cops
hadn’t started barricading it yet. 
And it was also before
the open container law was passed so you could still walk around with a beer in
your hand. We Harley riders used to park our bikes in front of the Black Cat
while the foreign bikes all parked in front of the Ritz. Technically the Black
Cat couldn’t sell beer to go so the drill was to go inside, buy a beer and then
step out back, stick it down your pants, and walk back out. It was wonderful,
you could listen to the band playing inside, drink a beer and stand by your bike
waiting for some girl to come by wanting a ride. Some of my best nights in
Austin were spent down there and there hasn’t been a scene like it since. When
the Black Cat burned down it was pretty much the end of me going to Sixth,
nothing was going to replace it. And it doesn’t go without notice that the
property owners down there have never tried to develop that space again. After
several years of being like the missing tooth in a sickly grin, a façade was
finally placed over the empty lot with a sign proclaiming Austin the live music
capitol of the world. Apparently the irony is lost to all.
There were some other worthwhile dives around back then as well, Joe’s Generic Bar definitely comes to mind. Joe’s was like a companion bar to the Black Cat, if memory serves they were next door to each other. And their bookings were pretty much the same, loud raunchy rock-n-roll. Joe’s had a great spokesman, Curley, a Mr. Clean lookalike who worked the door and was featured in their print ads. Joe’s didn’t last as long as the Black Cat, but for the live music fans who still went to Sixth back then it was truly memorable.
But if you want to track Sixth
Street dives back to their genesis, you have to go back to the very beginning of
the Sixth Street musical scene, and to the original Antone’s Nightclub. The
actual building where Antone’s once stood is long gone, torn down for the
endless stream of high dollar condos that make up so much of downtown now. But
that first Antone’s was a true dive. Clifford Antone opened it up on a
shoestring budget and it was meant as a listening spot for gritty, grimy blues,
nothing upscale about it. The current incarnation of Antone’s has about as much
relevance to its original as the Aquarium has to Steamboat, just another
reminder of how things have changed here in Austin.
And now Lovejoy’s is gone too, but at least it went out with a bang. Its last night of live music was on Thursday August 2nd with the ace lineup of Honky, Party Wizard, Amplified Heat and Scorpion Child. I rode in early that night and parked my Indian one last time out front with the other bikes. At six o’clock the place was already packed in with the same familiar strangers I had been seeing for years, the same bartenders pouring me pints. And while I was sitting there at the bar I had the same experiences I always had, total strangers coming up asking about the Indian or just making that wonderful drunk babble that comes from too much beer and too much emotion. And all in all it was just so much the typical Lovejoy’s experience that I really had trouble staying focused on it being my last time there. So I ended up riding off early, leaving the ever increasing crowd of well-wishers there to give the place the sendoff it so much deserved.
And now we’re left to wonder what the next move will be. Owner Eric Wolf has posted a statement to their Facebook page saying that there might be a new location at some time in the future, but I have mixed feelings over that. Back when the old Armadillo World Headquarters had its location sold out from under it there was some talk of trying to open again at another location, but I think in the long run everyone agreed that you can’t move magic. I have the same feelings about the new Emo’s. I really wished they would have changed their name when they changed their address. I’ll never be able to think of that place out on Riverside as really being Emo’s. And I can’t imagine Lovejoys being anywhere other than there in its just-off-the-thoroughfare location, close by the Salvation Army and stumbling distance to so many lesser places. And as much as I’d like to be able to see the old familiar faces again I’m really afraid that you just can’t transplant that incredible dive personality to another location. And without that Lovejoy’s might just become another faceless bar in a bar scene that just gets more homogenized at every turn. But I also imagine that I will be one of those watching and waiting for some kind of notice that there will be a new location, some new spot to try and catch lightning twice. And when it happens my Indian will be one of the first bikes out front, still looking for respite from the ROT insanity. And I’ll be inside, drinking a toast to the gold medal winner for Austin dives.
Rev Jim
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