I've been behind bars my whole life. Growing up in Southwest Philly with an Irish Catholic dad who drank his fair share of Ortleib's and then some provided a unique foundation and education regarding how one should conduct himself when frequenting local drinking establishments. I was pouring beers from my father's beer meister at the age of 5. After many of my little league baseball games, my father would take me with him to Hastings Cafe or The Catholic War Veterans Club on Elmwood Avenue. There were many jokes, jeers and fights amongst the patrons, and many phone calls from my mother to the bars looking for my father… Even today, I can still envision my father waving his hands at the bartender to signal that we were not there. This was an Irish Catholic kind of thing - we were raised to be honest and to tell the truth, but when you were with your father and he didn't want your mother to know where you were or what you were doing, somehow, you learned to navigate the way between honesty and the realities of the tap room.
After graduating fifth in my class from West Catholic Boys and a short stint at St. Joseph's University for around 2 months (I just wasn't ready for college; was drinking too much which led to one too many fights with these fraternity guys who just did not appreciate a commuter who made the trek every day in his 75' Malibu from Southwest Philadelphia) I began to seek refuge in the plethora of neighborhood bars: Eddies, Devine's, Roses' Tavern, Hastings Cafe, McDonough's, Terry's, Rudy's, Tiffany's, and even the Hug a Mug… Abandoning my college career so abruptly at that time may sound tragic, and of course, I hope to God my son never has this lapse in judgement... but it was in these drinking holes that I was able to find my identity... my voice... amidst a cast of characters that I'll forever cherish.
