Our Thursday night began early at the new Club Charlie’s (320 E. Menomonee) in the Third Ward. Their doors were folded open to welcome me in after a rainy afternoon.
Charlie’s is a small bar with red walls and black leather booths and stools lining the perimeter and random quotes are scattered on the walls in gold paint. A chalkboard in the corner is the only reference to a food menu. In general, I’d say it has a fancy “dive” bar feel going on. I enjoyed a Point Special draught, which has a brilliant tapper, by the way.
The crowd was predominantly older, likely made up of local businessmen and nearby condo-dwellers. While the atmosphere was nice, we didn’t stay too long. (I should say I didn’t stay too long, rather, as the others had been there for hours by the time I arrived.)
I already reviewed Yield (1932 E. Kenilworth Pl.), but this was our next stop of the night and having gained my utmost affection, nay admiration, I don’t see any problem with giving them a second shout out.
I was having a fine enough time, sipping on a couple Riverwest Steins. The bartender was generous and shared his sugar free gum. Things took a turn, though, after my first (and last) shot of Black Haus – a blackberry flavored Schnapps. Yuck. More of us gathered and soon dispersed into different groups. I maintained my position at the bar. My friend got up to go to the bathroom, leaving me alone for a moment. He returned to tell me of his experience and how the other young man in the bathroom spat on the floor. He told me his impression of Yield was that of a typical college bar but before he could continue we were interrupted.
“Excuse me, are you Carly Rubach?”
“Yes,” I answered, confused and thinking, finally I’m being recognized for my thought-provoking bar reviews.
“Is this your purse?”
I immediately looked on the bar in front of me where I rested my small purse.
“Yea! Thank you!”
After some questions, the bouncer explained the guy sitting next to me was a known shady character, a meth head perhaps, who they usually keep an eye on. When they saw him leave with a new accessory, the employees went after him, he dropped my purse and, long story short, I have two new heroes. They refused a drink or shot, saying they were just looking out and doing their job. How refreshing. So thank you again, publicly. That’s the best I can do.
The bar became more crowded and I told my friend how much I enjoy the Y NOT III (1854 E. Kenilworth Pl.) just down the street. While I’ve seen a couple of shows in the upstairs bar area, the downstairs is average, smoky and features random velvet portraits on the walls.
Though a chalkboard near the staircase indicated “Private Party,” followed by some obscure group name, we went upstairs anyway, just to peek. There were only four or five in attendance so I asked if we could hang out. They hesitated and agreed.
We later found out that their hesitation was a result of their purpose – they gather every week for a BDSM meeting. I won’t go into detail, but it’s a broad category of sexual role play, from what I gather. We were tied (get it?) into a conversation about their “preferences” and typical club meeting activities. Although unfamiliar, we were open and inquisitive to their lifestyle, which made for strange conversation with enticing characters: one man was bearded in his 50s, maybe; another larger women, very vocal about her passions, probably in her 30s; an older woman with graying hair physically approached us with intention of recruitment. I can really only scrape the surface of this situation here.
But back to the bar. The upstairs of the Y NOT III is like a cabin and smells that way, too. The open ceiling and beam structure is gorgeous and the fresh wood smell overpowers the smoke, which is nice. We played some dice with the bartender after our new BDSM friends left. He was generous and, as we were the only two left at the bar, gave us apt attention.
Closing time approached on this strange Thursday evening and I felt like Randy Newman trying to make sense of the night. I envisioned the “Toy Story” montage where Woody tries to figure out why Buzz is stealing his thunder. But for me, strange things were happening with theft of personal possessions and my remaining innocence – not quite Pixar material.
Burnhearts
2599 S. Logan Ave.
Wednesday, May 6: Whiskey Wednesdays. $2 PBR and $2 shots of Powers. Check out their MySpace page for a list of other events. Great specials, even better music.
Cactus Club
2496 S. Wentworth Ave.
Thursday, May 7: 9:00 p.m. D. Rider (member of U.S. Maple), The Chain, Bobby Conn + Monica Bou Bou. Check out The Chain if you need some music in your life this Thursday. They are a tight Milwaukee band and they will blow your mind.
Wicked Hop
345 N. Broadway
Friday, May 8: Sweet Jams by DJ Erich and Guests. No dress code. No cover. No requests!
County Clare
1234 N. Astor St.
Saturday, May 9: Barry Dodd performs. This bartender/musician plays traditional Irish songs along with familiar crowd pleasers from the ‘60s to present. Such fun!
Club Charlie’s
320 E. Menomenee
Monday, May 11: S.I.N., every Monday. 2-for-1 calls from 7 p.m.-2 a.m. Proof of employment in the industry required.
