For years now, I have been going to Holiday Cocktail Lounge on St. Marks. The cheapest drinks ever. And about as divey as it gets. (Palais Royale still wins though since we fixed the toilet with duct tape. I was working the night the kids broke it whilst fucking.) Holiday had an amazing jukebox and a fixture called Stefan Lutak. Born in 1920 in the Ukraine, he opened the bar in ’65 with his wifey and he’s been tending bar ever since. We never spoke as I felt this since of respect for him…he didn’t seem to welcome socializing. Yes, odd if your biz is relying on people giving you money for your product and service. But, I never felt like I had anything enlightening to offer him. I felt terrible watching him hobbling around, bussing tables and lifting cases of beer. His frame seemed likely to break with every pitched Rolling Rock bottle but he never broke.

Sometimes I would walk by, hoping for a quick one, but with the gate rolled down, I’d have to wait for my next alcoholic serendipity. He would usually close around 1am but really, it was up to how he felt that night. 

Here’s to you, Mr. Lutak. Spillin’ some out for my dead homie…

Note: I never saw him smile like this. This pic must have been snapped before all the B&T started coming for the kitch of it and ordering appletinis.