Through These Portals Walk the Famous
by Darius Jager

"Come one, come all!" A man calls down the village streets, "Just a penny gets you in! Why, the playbill's at your table Sir! ... More sites, more sounds than ever before! ... See the beautiful Stella Starlilly as she dances for your pleasure! Hear the songs that help you whistle the week away! Open your senses to the good spirits and the great friends that await you, just beyond this door!"

Oh yes, the times were rich, though the people were poor. A feeling of comfort and freedom paraded these houses of the burlesque. They offered an opiate in the flesh, an escape from the banality of tax evasion and a welcome change from the occupational redundancies that plagued their lives. Tonight, I will visit this place for the first time, nearly eight decades later.

A flat-faced building sits on the corner of Bleeker and Thompson, right in the heart of Greenwich Village. The vaudeville promoter has since then been replaced by a seven foot tall bouncer with an earpiece, who seems to be more interested in my legal identification than collecting tips for a great seat. A sign above the door reads "Kenny's Castaways."

A jukebox has replaced the piano and the dancing girls must have had the night off. I walked in and took a seat at the bar, ordered a $6 draft and listened to a cover of "Suffragette City." The hall was deep and there stood a loft above the stage with additional seating, perfect for poker games, rendezvous, and other activities that are best kept out of sight.

I am here tonight by invitation from a band called The Fear, not to be confused with the band, Fear, who appeared on Saturday Night Live in 1981, and later disbanded. No, this band is young and fresh, a pleasant change from the standard bar band or the outrageously avant-garde groups that infest the downtown scene. A mix of hard rock, blues, and thick instrumental breakdowns careened through the room, grabbing the attention of the patrons at the bar.

"Now that's rock and roll" remarked a man sitting next to me, sipping a martini, "a bit salty but reeeal smooth." I'm not quite sure if he was talking about the band or his drink, but I agreed nonetheless, for I am a simple man, and the expression on his face was enough for me.

As I watched the band, I surveyed the room. A forty-foot high ceiling, coupled with a wooden floor, heavily marked from years of use, made for a very satisfying acoustic design. A sign above the entrance to the stage area read, "Through these portals walk the famous." It was nice to see these words of encouragement, as bar owners and promoters so often neglect the very talents that keep them in business. With a five-dollar cover and modestly priced cocktails, Kenny's Castaways certainly caters to the vibe that makes Greenwich Village a vagabond's paradise.

The last chord was played and so it was time for me to leave. I said goodbye to the ghosts of the past, who lingered above the stage in their Charleston hats and Ragtime dresses, and toasted to their eternal retreat, far from the I.R.S. and free from the stresses of the daily grind. My night was at an end, but this town has not seen the last of me. I will return to indulge in the pleasures of a world where time is but a carefully perceived point of view and music rules the design of its spirit.

Visit: The Fear @ www.thefearrevolution.com
Kenny's Castaways @ www.kennyscastaways.com

-posted to The Great Hoboes of New York, April 1, 2005