A Night at KGB

Thanks to everyone who showed up to that no-longer-smoky den of literature, G&T's and rattling upstairs floorboards last night for a very enjoyable reading (I did lose my place marker as I was about to start reading and had to extemporaneously choose a new section--did anyone notice?). Thanks to Beatrice.com for turning out, my old pal Evan who I used to hang out with at Stuy High (well, actually, we spent more time in the vestibules across Fifteenth Street doing things that annoyed all the tenants who weren't potheads), and thanks to the Santa Cruz gang, the Veselka's (a very apt Ukrainian-sensitive choice I thought) contingent.

But on to the meat and pierogis of the matter.

KGB Bar: Threat or Enemy?

My friend Garth tells me there is a rather sordid tale behind the making of KGB, and a longstanding if little-known boycott. Here's what his sources tell him:

"I'd like to come but don't tell my mother in law as that location will be eternally boycotted. you see it used to be the old ukrainian home and dave's mom ran a ukrainian folk dance group that practiced there on the weekends. dave and his family and their lefty friends spent their weekends there dancing and eating peirogi that the old ukrainian ladies would make for them. it was a true 'proletariat' joint and the sale of the building was a loss but the renaming of the social room into KGB was downright offensive. the bar even hung up framed photos that had been left behind, presenting them as soviet kitsch."

Here's the other view, from KGB itself:

"On Sundays in the Ukrainian Labor Home’s great hall there was a dance class for children just a little older than I--I was about five at this time--they dressed in folk costumes from the old country and pranced to an accordion. Did I want to join them? No, I did not. The room was too large, twenty-five feet wide and one hundred feet long, larger than any room I’d ever seen before, and the sheer size of it took my breath away; it gave me vertigo. Rather than dance lessons, I preferred the company of my father’s cronies in the intimacy of their private club one flight up. There, we drank. (Yes, we drank.) Formerly a Lucky Luciano joint called the Palm Casino, the bar was built during prohibition well before the membership of the Ukrainian Labor Home bought the place in 1948. This was the members’ true domain, and my dad and his pals set themselves up with shots of whiskey, vodka, Four Roses or whatever--with a little shot for me. I tried to drink it down without spitting it up while the men laughed. We had a good time... KGB has been rocking along ever since."

There you got it, pro and con. Please write with more info if you have an opinion or clarification on this disturbing matter. I remain, in the tried and true tradition of American journalism, decidedly undecided.

Comments

[Kerim Friedman]

Shashwati and I had our wedding reception at the KGB! We're big fans of the place.