I never considered it possible for an Irish bar to have a first day of
business. Consider all the bars in Corktown Detroit. Many of those
opened their doors when Michigan Avenue was paved with bricks and
maybe earlier. There's probably been Irish living and working in
Corktown since 1845 or so, when the Erie Canal made Detroit easier to
reach. And the Irish Potato Famine made it important for Irish
families to seek greener fields. And what's the good of one, two,
three or even four green fields until one has a place to raise a glass
of cheer to agriculture? I've seen black and white photographs from
the opening of Fenians in Conklin, Michigan, but that opening took
place more than twenty years ago. So it indeed was my honor to attend
the first day of business for Hennessy's Pub in Muskegon's Cheesetown.
Might she seem without a beginning to Muskegon generations to come.
The Cheese Lady returned gourmet food to this section of Muskegon
about two years ago, so why not call it Cheesetown. I remember when Dick O'Dows set up shop on Maple in Birmingham,
Michigan in the past century, and the owners even imported wood and a
sarcophagus of Irish granite from the old country. They created tee
shirts with Dick O'Dows' door appearing amongst pictures of the doors
of Corktown bars. I think I didn't accept it as a fully Irish bar
until they brought in the musicians, who I thought were auditioning
for an Irish version of the Sex Pistols, if the Sex Pistols sang Irish
warrior anthems. Luckily, Hennessy's felt Irish from the very
beginning, but maybe it was that Catholic Church towering over it.
Fascinating, last St. Patrick's Day, I heard an extraordinarily good
concert of Irish music in that cathedral, and now Hennessy's. That
concert worked! Hennessy's opening marks a recovery from the fall of the Sardine Room,
proceeded by the fall of Finley's, also on Henry. The Bonfire has
taken the place of the Sardine Room. Handsome Henry's has totally
renovated and remodeled Finley's. One manager from Sardine Room has
brought the Lake House to astounding levels. A second manager from the
Sardine Room is now managing the dining room at Hennessy's, and this
shows in the training of the staff, who handled day one with aplomb. I
wish to state one error. My bartender claimed I had paid for my
Guinness with a twenty when I asked for my check. I hadn't seen a
twenty in my billfold all week, and I insisted on paying with a fiver,
no matter what her fancy computer screen said. I wonder if it recorded
the serial numbers? I was seated at bar nearest the door to Jefferson, which, I plead,
must be winterized against the gusts that chill our ankles when the
door opens to admit fellow guests. Admission of guests occurred
frequently enough last night. I had picked that spot since it gave me
a lovely view of the entire dining room and a view of the people
arriving, without hawking them just as the door opened. The seat had
an uncanny closeness to the waitress stand, and soon I was chatting
with my favorite bartender from the Clover Bar, by name the other
Irish bar in town. She's a lovely woman who, at the Clover Bar, often
had to escort unwillingly men to the door. I hold in my heart a wee
bit of the bartender love for her. She gives me my drink and a bit of
attention. I give her my pleasant conversation, which she accepts in
buckets, and my generous gratuity. It is really a highly sublimated
relationship that I wouldn't cheapen with dating or even asking for
her phone number. I'm not sure I would talk to her on the beach,
saving our relationship for where it goes best, the bar. So imagine my
confusion when she gave me a sweet hug and held her face within
kissing distance as she bid me hello? I am still a bit flamboozled and
I am sure it had all to do with Hennessy hospitality and an Irish bar
being Irish. I had texted two friends who were thinking of going to Fenian's out in
Conklin, and I let them know I was enjoying a Guinness at the new
Hennessy's bar. Being a man of sober character most of the moments, I
drank my Guinness and proceeded home, "tipsy and respectible" on foot.
About an hour later, these two fine examples of West Michigan
womanhood texted me, wondering where I was sitting in the pub. I was
sitting near my hearth writing at the time, and the two enjoyed the
ambiance without me. My friends made selections from the menu, my one
friend keen on Scotch Eggs. She's a true aficionado, and while she
enjoyed this rare dish, maybe the only Scotch Egg on a menu in West
Michigan, she invited the chef to discuss the nuances with her. I hear
the chef well recieved these fine points and made notes. By the way, that phrase, tipsy and respectible, is not mine. It is
from a poem by Richard Tillighast, a poet on the faculty at our
University of Michigan. He had a sabbatical in Ireland and he wrote
poetry in his head as he walked uphill to his lodgings, leaving the
pub for the night. I once owned a copy of a book of poems signed by
him, and at best, I hope someone else owns and cares for it now. Richard Tillinghast, Poet at the University of Michigan:
http://www-personal.umich.edu/~rwtill/
business. Consider all the bars in Corktown Detroit. Many of those
opened their doors when Michigan Avenue was paved with bricks and
maybe earlier. There's probably been Irish living and working in
Corktown since 1845 or so, when the Erie Canal made Detroit easier to
reach. And the Irish Potato Famine made it important for Irish
families to seek greener fields. And what's the good of one, two,
three or even four green fields until one has a place to raise a glass
of cheer to agriculture? I've seen black and white photographs from
the opening of Fenians in Conklin, Michigan, but that opening took
place more than twenty years ago. So it indeed was my honor to attend
the first day of business for Hennessy's Pub in Muskegon's Cheesetown.
Might she seem without a beginning to Muskegon generations to come.
The Cheese Lady returned gourmet food to this section of Muskegon
about two years ago, so why not call it Cheesetown. I remember when Dick O'Dows set up shop on Maple in Birmingham,
Michigan in the past century, and the owners even imported wood and a
sarcophagus of Irish granite from the old country. They created tee
shirts with Dick O'Dows' door appearing amongst pictures of the doors
of Corktown bars. I think I didn't accept it as a fully Irish bar
until they brought in the musicians, who I thought were auditioning
for an Irish version of the Sex Pistols, if the Sex Pistols sang Irish
warrior anthems. Luckily, Hennessy's felt Irish from the very
beginning, but maybe it was that Catholic Church towering over it.
Fascinating, last St. Patrick's Day, I heard an extraordinarily good
concert of Irish music in that cathedral, and now Hennessy's. That
concert worked! Hennessy's opening marks a recovery from the fall of the Sardine Room,
proceeded by the fall of Finley's, also on Henry. The Bonfire has
taken the place of the Sardine Room. Handsome Henry's has totally
renovated and remodeled Finley's. One manager from Sardine Room has
brought the Lake House to astounding levels. A second manager from the
Sardine Room is now managing the dining room at Hennessy's, and this
shows in the training of the staff, who handled day one with aplomb. I
wish to state one error. My bartender claimed I had paid for my
Guinness with a twenty when I asked for my check. I hadn't seen a
twenty in my billfold all week, and I insisted on paying with a fiver,
no matter what her fancy computer screen said. I wonder if it recorded
the serial numbers? I was seated at bar nearest the door to Jefferson, which, I plead,
must be winterized against the gusts that chill our ankles when the
door opens to admit fellow guests. Admission of guests occurred
frequently enough last night. I had picked that spot since it gave me
a lovely view of the entire dining room and a view of the people
arriving, without hawking them just as the door opened. The seat had
an uncanny closeness to the waitress stand, and soon I was chatting
with my favorite bartender from the Clover Bar, by name the other
Irish bar in town. She's a lovely woman who, at the Clover Bar, often
had to escort unwillingly men to the door. I hold in my heart a wee
bit of the bartender love for her. She gives me my drink and a bit of
attention. I give her my pleasant conversation, which she accepts in
buckets, and my generous gratuity. It is really a highly sublimated
relationship that I wouldn't cheapen with dating or even asking for
her phone number. I'm not sure I would talk to her on the beach,
saving our relationship for where it goes best, the bar. So imagine my
confusion when she gave me a sweet hug and held her face within
kissing distance as she bid me hello? I am still a bit flamboozled and
I am sure it had all to do with Hennessy hospitality and an Irish bar
being Irish. I had texted two friends who were thinking of going to Fenian's out in
Conklin, and I let them know I was enjoying a Guinness at the new
Hennessy's bar. Being a man of sober character most of the moments, I
drank my Guinness and proceeded home, "tipsy and respectible" on foot.
About an hour later, these two fine examples of West Michigan
womanhood texted me, wondering where I was sitting in the pub. I was
sitting near my hearth writing at the time, and the two enjoyed the
ambiance without me. My friends made selections from the menu, my one
friend keen on Scotch Eggs. She's a true aficionado, and while she
enjoyed this rare dish, maybe the only Scotch Egg on a menu in West
Michigan, she invited the chef to discuss the nuances with her. I hear
the chef well recieved these fine points and made notes. By the way, that phrase, tipsy and respectible, is not mine. It is
from a poem by Richard Tillighast, a poet on the faculty at our
University of Michigan. He had a sabbatical in Ireland and he wrote
poetry in his head as he walked uphill to his lodgings, leaving the
pub for the night. I once owned a copy of a book of poems signed by
him, and at best, I hope someone else owns and cares for it now. Richard Tillinghast, Poet at the University of Michigan:
http://www-personal.umich.edu/~rwtill/
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