52nd City

Passings

Steve Smith and I put heads together at the Royale last night and decided to drop into the Black Thorn, to toast the recently-departed Miko Fleming. Upon entering, though, we were struck by the fact that there weren't any regulars on-hand, per se. A softball team in one corner. A couple of random drinkers in another. A modest house, all-in-all.

Behind the bar: an employee working her first shift. And: Dave Difani, the landmark's longtime owner. We ordered a round, clinked glasses, then found ourselves unsure of what to say, or do. We heard a few details, random scraps of info gleaned from conversations and phone-calls. Nothing to pass along, really, nothing that would add good thoughts to the memory of a good guy.

Miko and I ran in some of the same circles, though we weren't friends-friends, if you know what I mean. We both worked the door at the old Frederick's and laughed when we had to card one another, per management's orders. A few weeks ago, I waived that formality when he walked into the Royale, smiling. He sold me many shirts and ties during his Vintage Hab days and I recall talking about softball with him for a period; I guess we played against one another in Tower Grove Park, and it was a reference point for a bit. If there wasn't any new thing to say, we always could chat about bands or the people in those bands.

For whatever reason, I didn't go to the Thorn much over the last year, though I was in on Tuesday night. Saw Miko. Ordered a round. Exchanged a warm greeting. Ordered another round. Paid the tab and put the receipt in my wallet. Didn't think that the moment was anything but a random moment.

My sympathies go out to those who knew him so-much-better.

And my hopes are that this every-other-year-or-so storyline doesn't visit us again anytime soon.

(Link to STLtoday.com update. Link to Riverfront Times update.)

========

It might not compare with the passing of a man, but there's been word that the Alternative Music Pub, almost universally-known as AMP, has departed our Grove rounds. After the experience at Black Thorn, we decided to head over for a peek, maybe ask the bartenders what was in the club's future. Too late? Drove up, ten-ish on a Wednesday. No lights were on. No chairs were on the floor. No people to ask anything.

If true, this'd be a bit of a shot to the Grove, as AMP predated the rush of businesses to the area, a solitary magnet at the corner of Manchester and Boyle, drawing on the coolest set of people you could imagine. Though owned by a gay male couple, the bar drew every kind of person and that was a credit to the owners' personalities, to their musical tastes and to the dark, dark interior which always seemed to exude a certain ever-so-slightly-dangerous cool.

If I were to put together a personal list of the 10 best clubs I've known in St. Louis, the old AMP would make the list. I can't recall a time there when I didn't enjoy the stay. And though the new AMP never grabbed me in quite the same way, the staff was still excellent and the clientele was the best mix of St. Louis: young, old, black, white, hip, square. A club like AMP brings diverse people together. Hopefully, it'll do so again.

Maybe this departure's just a fleeting hiatus, not a permanent one. I do hope so.