Raleigh boasts a long, noble list of havens for alternative culture: The Berkeley Cafe, The Paper Plant, The Five-O, Cup-a-Joe, The Sting-Ray Room, Vertigo Diner, Forum&Function, and the Third Place are a smattering. None of these even comes close to the massive impact, over decades, made by Sadlack’s as the ultimate home away from home for the downtrodden student, the philosophical blue collar worker, the ambitious slacker whose burning for validation brings him again and again, the casual intellectual who stops for a casual beer and then has life-changing experiences: here is the backwater that acts as a cauldron of ideas, here is homely food sold and given as a basic human ritual, served with love and the admonition to shut up and eat it (if you want the best price), here, most of all, is beer. Dark drafts with lemon, PBR’s on a tab, the splurge for a draft Newcastle from the renovated bar, still served in a plastic cup, the frown of an oldie or a scream from a waitress at the smuggled bottle of Schlitz coming out of the coat pocket out on the porch. Let me get you a beer! Community libations. Sad’s!
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Where else can you see the lost generation of Baby Boomers chatting up the lost generation X’ers, served by artistically punk Millenniumers. Where else to hear major bands (like the recently defunct Countdown Quartet) try out new sets and new members while they play for tips. Where else to hear garage bands playing like it’s 1981 - and they’re in their garage. Everybody comes to Sad’s sometime. I’ve heard story after story about spouses getting together the first time at Sad’s - it happened to me on October 2, 1984. My European friend had his first beer in America at Sad’s in 1979 - five minutes after legal closing. He later met his future wife there. Certain folks you know you can find there - but long term reunions with people you haven’t seen in years are also common. The community, over time, has exhibited an amazing genealogy of dating, mutual support, fallings out, and fantastically strong loyalty.
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This loyalty was tested and proven during the long recent renovation. Analyzed and predicted in local media, the vacancy created a genuine minor life crisis for more than few. The PR became “Sadlack’s East,” the East Village “Sadlack’s West.” People said it would never be the same, that Rose never intended re-opening - or they would claim that a second floor was definitely in the works. After all the dust settled, Sad’s was back - a real kitchen, usable bathrooms, and an all-weather porch - but essentially the same, with plenty of pictures around to maintain a sense of the past. And you know, some people love to hate Rose - but let’s get real - Rose IS Sadlack’s - she likes, tolerates, feeds and hires all those interesting people. She fires them, rehires them, bans people for limited instructional periods, welcomes them back. She provides free food for special occasions. It is her thing, and an amazing thing it is. Sad’s! Thank you, Rose.
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Favorite moments come easily - The Carolina Rollergirls fund-raising while their kids splash in a wading pool in the parking lot, for example. Last Friday night I checked in and saw a suspiciously large and preppy crowd out front. Damn, the Crawl! I hate the Crawl and what it does to Sad’s, even if it’s just one night. But it was early, and inside was still sane and mostly regulars. So I had my beer and visited with Dave, the best musician of the regulars. Dave and Peter E. are intellectual pillars of Sadlack’s. Dave had a nasty nickname for the young pretties who were starting to gather up on the concrete wall - we all love the atmosphere so much, we’re protective. Later that night I drove by and saw obscene crowds spilling out the door. I kept going and saw the Crawlers’ ultimate destination (some of them anyway) - a hospital paddy wagon for kids with alcohol poisoning, parked in front of D.H. Hill Library.
Sadlack’s itself has ongoing brushes with drunken misbehavior, as well as the rare truly criminal alumnus, but it is the most friendly, supportive setting for having a few beers in Raleigh. From a doughnut shop in a mobile diner trailer, to a Greek sandwich shop, to a Raleigh institution - Sadlacks now has a set of physical footings to match its deep roots in Raleigh’s alternative culture scene. Long live Sad’s - my fifth wonder of Raleigh.
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I agree with you, Geezer. Sadlack’s was a place I started frequenting as a young punk rocker with high school senior off-campus lunch privileges. Punks and hippies coexisting peacefully and at that time Sad’s was owned by Louie, a gruff but loveable, former narcotics detective, from NYC. I don’t frequent Sadlack’s so much but I saw Dexter Romweber perform Saturday night, the day after the bar crawl. Like Dexter, many of the faces at Sadlack’s that night were the same faces I might have seen in 1985. Also like Dexter, sometimes sad but always legendary.
Sitting at the counter at Sadlack’s having a meatball sub and reading the Indy one pre-renovation afternoon, relaxed and comfortable. Sadlack’s is actually the only place I have ever felt comfortable eating alone. Because I guess you are never really alone there. This particular visit I am enjoying eavesdropping on the guy next to me. He’s having a beer and extolling the wonders of being fresh from a stint in jail. He says he can’t wait to shave his head—he’s wasting a few good tats under the new growth.
Anyway I eat all I can of my sub, push my basket to the edge of the counter, and go on with my reading/eavesdropping. A few minutes later the newly free man reaches into my basket and starts eating the remainder of my sub. I look up from my paper at him in shocked silence and he just says, “Oh were you not finished?” I laughed and said “No, no, I was. Knock yourself out.”
Ahh Sadlack’s . . . anything can happen.
Thanks for the comments and I could wish for more. That is to say, my own post could have been three times longer - the wonderful stories over the years, the “Sadlack’s parties” from Joy and Aaron’s recent wedding celebration to Jeff W.’s 50th birthday party - these events away from Sadlack’s display all the more strongly the cohesion and strength of the community. Back at Hillsborough and Enterprise, the happening nights just keep coming. Mr L. does well in mentioning Dexter, the epitome of oldie-goldie Sadlack’s experiences. Last night, May 9th, Peter Lamb and the Wolves were burning the place up. Half of the Countdown Quartet has joined with a rising genius of the keyboards named Mark Wells to create a hard bop sound, tempered with long exuberant solos, that was the best jazz I’ve ever heard at Sad’s. Their wonderful music can be heard at http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=332892874
I would love to hear your Sadlack’s story. Shelby, yours is a work of art! See you there, ya’ll!
I’m pretty sure its hypocritical to say you love the diversity of Sadlack’s but hate it when a new clientèle appears (”even if its only for a night”).
I, too, love Sadlack’s and was very glad to see it come back from what I thought was almost certain death. “I’ll have a PBR deucer, thanks”
Perhaps you’ve never seen the Crawl at Sadlack’s, but believe me, the hordes of twenty-somethings that completely fill the place for the entire evening are anything but diverse - they all look like they just stepped out of a wine cooler ad. It can be fun to watch but the (minor)issue/complaint is downright displacement. I can’t find the word “diverse” anywhere in my post or comment, but I do see “cohesive community,” which might imply some over-protectiveness. As a geezer, I am no doubt prejudiced against what appear to be crowds of vacuous partiers stoppping by just to put Sad’s on their checklist. But it’s all good and I can live with the Crawl. It was just how I felt.