2007: Boards over Barsie's: Students miss Historic Amherst Bar - 5/15/2007
Recently closed, Barsie's was a favorite among Amherst locals and
students alike. The former staple of uptown Amherst is now the site of
Judie's Restaurant's expansion
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Boards over Barsie's: Students miss historic Amherst bar
By: Rebecca Carey
Posted: 5/15/07
It was a warm, sunny August day filled with promise and excitement. I
graduated from Agawam High School that June as part of the class of 2003
and now was starting college. I told my mom I'd behave, but I couldn't
wait to be able to go out drinking and not worry about sneaking in my
front door two hours past curfew.
My pink plaid Abercrombie shorts were not the most appropriate moving
attire and soon having to adjust them every few steps while carrying
boxes of clothes was getting annoying. Paired with baby blue Adidas
running sneakers and a simple white tank top, I had convinced myself
that the outfit made sense: cute, but still seemingly effortless. I had
planned it for days.
When I reached 202 Cance, a low-rise in Southwest, Kate Bryan was
already there unpacking with her parents. After the formalities, we soon
realized we had a lot in common. We both had baby blue comforters for
our extra-long twin beds, we both had the same HP Pavilion laptop, and
while I unpacked my blue and pink plastic margarita glasses, Kate pulled
out her margarita mix and bottle of tequila. Her parents laughed; my mom
didn't. She had gone here in the late 60s, when Southwest was first
built, and was well aware of the kind of debauchery that occurred in
that area of UMass.
* * *
In 1983, Sean Eagan was a 20 year-old sophomore at UMass. He had been
working at Barsie's, an uptown Amherst bar for a while now and was
pulling in good money, earning $150 a night. Between working four to
five nights a week and attending classes, he made time to experience
Southwest: kegs in the elevators of dorms, an abundance of drugs and
spring weekends when alcohol distribution trucks would pull into the
area, dropping off up to 100 kegs of beer. The Zoo was in full force,
and Sean enjoyed being part of the exhibit.
* * *
For me, freshman year was a blur of Thirsty Thursdays and hung-over
Friday mornings. When I did make it to class, which was usually a
discussion, I was less than participatory. After a night filled with
shots of Admiral Nelson's and Popov vodka, I was lucky to be sitting
upright and not feeling the urge to vomit. Friday nights we usually went
to Phi Sigma Kappa, a fraternity that was deemed acceptable by our
older, sophomore guy friends. The culture of Southwest was overwhelming,
and I was struggling to keep up.
Even though I could barely handle the countless games of Asshole and
Beirut, I couldn't help but feel like I was helping to perpetuate all
the drinking. I was the only one of my friends at the time with a fake
ID, which made me one of the few distributors of alcohol to most of
Cance's second floor. Our friend Nick would drive Kate and me to the
liquor store, pull into parking lot next door and jump out. He and Kate
would wait while I drove his beat up '88 Toyota Camry next door and
walked in, cool, calm, and collected. I couldn't take out my list
because that would be too conspicuous, so I was forced to remember
everyone's order. It was usually just a bunch of Busch Light 30s; but
sometimes it got more complicated, like when people felt like splurging,
it would be on a handle of Captain Morgan's among other things. The ID
was fool-proof and rarely got questioned.
* * *
Leading a double life soon got tiring for Eagan. School started to seem
pointless since he was making so much money bartending, so he dropped
out and focused on work. From four to seven every night, lines filled
North Pleasant Street for "happy hour," which meant half-priced drinks.
Eagan soon found himself befriending a lot of Amherst police who
patrolled the area in front of the bars. He had found his niche in the
Amherst party scene, parlaying the beverages.
* * *
Sophomore year, most of our friends moved off campus into places like
Townhouses and Puffton Village, apartment complexes comprised mostly of
UMass students, and known for their party scene. Kate and I moved up to
room 446 Cance. We spent most of our time at themed parties. Nick's
birthday that year was a "Pimps and Hoes" party at his friend's house on
North Pleasant Street. In the spring, it was "Golf Pros and Tennis Hoes"
in Townhouses. When the cops came to break it up, one of them explained
to Nick that he, "just didn't feel right about arresting someone wearing
argyle." That's how it is at UMass - a party will either end up with a
good story, handcuffs, or both.
There was definitely a reason to party that year when the Red Sox won
the World Series for the first time in over 80 years. Not being a big
baseball fan myself, I was part of the minority during the Southwest
celebrations. I knew it was better to be a self-proclaimed baseball
neophyte rather than a girl wearing a pink Red Sox hat walking around
talking about how cute Jason Varitek is. Admittedly, I had purchased one
of these hats and only wore it a couple of times. I learned my lesson
after hearing some of my guy friends making fun of those girls.
Southwest security had been on high alert since the riots the fall
before during the play-offs when the Red Sox lost to the Yankees. That
night had started off innocently enough, a few people filing into the
quad in front of Washington dorm shouting, "Yankees suck!" but it soon
escalated to a mass of students hell-bent on igniting rolls of toilet
paper on fire and throwing them up in the air, tipping cars over as if
they were worthless property, and igniting lounge furniture from the
dorms. I was inside before the riot police had come out in full-force
but was out there long enough to witness not only countless acts of
vandalism but also needless displays of drunken girls in desperate need
of attention as they took off their tops and started making out with one
another while they sat on guys' shoulders. It was like cheap porn, but
no one was getting paid.
* * *
The UMass that Sean Eagan knew was much different. Bands like the
Grateful Dead and the Allman Brothers Band played shows at venues like
the Fine Arts Center, the football stadium, and even by the campus pond.
Everyone was there for a good time; and according to Eagan, the
ZooMassers of today wouldn't have been able to handle it back then.
Eagan had been working at Barsie's for quite some time and had really
made it his home. One day, in 1990, he was getting ready to open up the
bar at noon when an old man presumably in his mid-70s approached the door.
"Can I help you, Sir? We're not open yet," Eagan said.
The man explained that he had graduated from Amherst College in 1940 and
that he didn't want to come in. Instead he handed Eagan a 10 cent
"Barselotti's" token. The original owner Andy Barselotti used to sell
these tokens 12 for $1. The old man started crying and Eagan said this
was the single most important moment that made him interested in
learning about the history of the bar he now dedicated his life to.
In 1929, a year before the Great Depression, Andy Barselotti moved his
small store that sold mostly fruit, candy and ice cream from the corner
of Amity and North Pleasant Street to the Knights of Columbus building
on North Pleasant Street. In 1933, the 18th Amendment, also known as
Prohibition, was repealed and Barselotti was granted one of the first
liquor licenses in the area. Barselotti's Caf� was established as a bar
exactly one week after Prohibition ended.
In 1953, the bar moved to the "Trott Block" on North Pleasant Street,
the former site of Amherst Taxi, and "Caf�" was dropped from the name.
Barselotti and his girlfriend Lil were running things until the early
1960s when his nephew Ed Corsiglia took over.
In the 1970, the bar went through three new owners. Early in the decade,
Corsiglia sold the bar to Eddie Montovani, the owner of Mike's Westview
Caf�, another local watering hole. In 1974, it was sold to Don
Lamoureux, and in '79, Bobby Whittemore. The Barselotti's exchanged
ownership for the last time in 1983 when Whittemore sold it to Judie's
Restaurant, which had been located next door since 1977. The new owners,
Mary and Nancy Jenal, decided to give Barsie's, which it had come to be
known as, it's first face lift since the 1950s. They added windows along
the left side of the building as well as a large front window to replace
the previously closed off view of the street. High tables were put in
place of the booths, and a small kitchen was added to the area that
previously housed a pool table. Food service at Barsie's wasn't very
popular; and after only a year, the kitchen closed, leaving the bar to
serve its sole purpose - alcohol and nothing else.
Barsie's became the center of what later became known as uptown Amherst.
With its neon pink sign, those who didn't know the bar knew that they
were in an area where drinks, food, and recreation were the center of
all activity. For the next 23 years, along with Delano's and Time Out,
which later became McMurphy's Uptown Tavern in 1997, Barsie's helped to
designate the territory which has now become "club-sidewalk," the apr�s
bar hot spot for local college students. When Antonio's pizza opened in
the late 90s, the area was complete. Drinks followed by "hot cheese
upfront" became the staple of most nights out.
* * *
As a junior at UMass, most of my friends were turning 21. Kate and I
moved to Brandywine Apartments with our friend Sara McElroy. Sara turned
21 in November, and Kate and I both had fake IDs so we frequented the
uptown Amherst bar scene along with all of our friends of legal drinking
age. At UMass, any night of the week is game for drinking; it's not just
reserved for Thirsty Thursday or the weekend. The Guitar Dudes at
McMurphy's played a big role in expanding the socially accepted drinking
weeknights to Wednesdays. Soon, UMass students started lining up around
10 o'clock to hear two middle-aged men play songs that they admitted
they barely knew on acoustic guitars. They'd substitute real words for
vulgar ones, and everyone loved it, including myself. In addition to
butchering every pleasured wedding reception anthem, the Guitar Dudes
sang a lot of Tenacious D songs which are basically on the same level of
class as all the others. Yet, who am I to criticize? Every Wednesday
night, I was drunk and singing along to Mr. Big's "Be With You" and
continuously shouting, "Oh my God, I love this song!" every time they
started playing a new one. The Guitar Dudes played the same set list
every week and even repeated songs during the course of the night.
* * *
Eagan loved being a part of the college bar scene. "Working in a college
town, you keep getting older every year, but the students, they stay the
same age. It's great," he said. Being around that age group kept Eagan
young, and he was able to know what kind of music was popular and what
people were up to. He liked not only his contact with college kids, but
just the sheer amount of heads he saw on a daily basis. He met some of
his best friends through the bar, as they were salesmen or
representatives from alcohol distribution companies. Eagan saw Barsie's
as part of his youth, filled with lots of girls, lots of drinking, and
"lots of other things," he explains with a laugh.
Before he was old enough to experience the bar for what it was, Eagan
had visited Barsie's to play pin-ball with friends around the age of 13.
His baseball coach at the time, Don Lamoureux, was the owner, and the
boys loved to go there as they were immersed in the cigar smoke from
older locals who made Barsie's their frequent afternoon watering hole.
During that time, going uptown was an exhilarating experience. The left
side of the road that housed bars like Quicksilver, which is now
Delano's, was filled with "easy rider types" who were rough bikers who
dropped acid. Eagan wasn't allowed to walk on the left side of the road.
* * *
The next summer, I moved from Brandywine to Puffton where I would spend
the rest of my time at UMass. My friends and I spent most of our time
drinking $2 pints of Honey Brown and playing Naked Photo Hunt, a
computer game with two pictures of tacky half-naked women from the 80s
in which you had to figure out what one picture had that the other one
didn't. It was a good way to pass time during the lazy, warm summer
nights at Barsie's, when the few students living in Amherst during the
summer would wander in. It was a relaxing time in uptown Amherst when
bars were quiet enough that you could hold a conversation and getting
ready meant doing little more than throwing on a pair of flip-flops and
a hooded sweatshirt in case it got cold.
That fall, one of my roommates, Jessica Pierce got a job at Barsie's.
This gave us the perfect excuse to spend most of our nights there. When
school is in session, all bets are off in uptown Amherst. Soon you are
inevitably drawn into a world where everyone has slept with the
boyfriend or girlfriend of someone you know, and girls strut down North
Pleasant Street as if they were participants in some warped beauty
pageant in which, instead of a swimsuit or formal wear competition, it
was a cold weather booty-shorts competition. High-heels and leggings
covered the contestants of the war of the X-chromosomes, in which there
are no winners, simply girls who either walk that inevitable
walk-of-shame back to their apartment or girls who make it home in
one-piece, cell phone, ID, and lip gloss still in their tiny jewel
covered clutch.
With Jessica working at Barsie's, I felt like I was given access behind
the velvet rope. My other two roommates and I bypassed any line to get
in and rarely had to show ID. Although the bouncers didn't know my name,
they knew my face and more importantly, they knew I was Jessica's
roommate. After a while, Jessica started dating Gregg Joyce, another
bartender at Barsie's who had worked there since 1999. With Jessica and
Gregg both behind the bar, I never had to ask for another Tanqueray and
Tonic and never got kicked out when they called last call around 12:30
a.m. Barsie's had become my sanctuary in uptown Amherst. Although I was
surrounded by the usual obnoxious drunken debauchery, I was part of a
privileged class of bar-goers - those that knew the people who worked there.
On November 27, 2006, Gregg Joyce and another Barsie's bartender, Gus
Carleson were working at their second job for the Amherst Department of
Public Works. It was approximately 8:30 a.m. and they were making their
usual trip to Starbucks, located a few buildings down from Barsie's.
Looking over at the bar, something peculiar caught their eye: a man on a
ladder doing something with the pink neon sign.
"They're finally fixing the sign," Gregg said to Gus.
Gus replied, "I bet you we're closing."
In recent times, rumors made their rounds among the Barsie's staff that
the bar was closing to make way for an expansion of Judie's Restaurant.
These rumors hadn't gained much merit as the expansion was seen as
something that would happen in the distant future.
At 9:28 a.m. that morning, Gregg got a call from Sean Eagan and he
immediately knew it was bad news. "Why else would he be calling so
early?" he thought. When he hung up with his boss, Gregg immediately
called Jess.
"Me and Gus have some bad news for you."
"No!" she wailed into the phone.
"Yup, we're closed."
Gregg knew Jessica would be upset. The two guys had been driving toward
Puffton; and when they pulled into the parking lot outside of 548, Gregg
looked to his friend. "I'll be right back," he said.
Jessica's first thought was that she would have to move back home. After
all, working one weekend at the bar paid her rent for a month.
"Especially around the holidays, it was a swift kick in the ass," Gregg
explained. Although they had known on some level that the bar might be
closing at some point, they were in no way ready to hear it had actually
happened.
That weekend I didn't go out. My sanctuary was gone. Our sanctuary was
gone. All of those Barsie's regulars had lost their niche. Not just the
drunken UMass or Amherst College students but those people who have
lived in Amherst all their lives and come back to Barsie's to relish in
the fond memories of their youth had lost something substantial. People
like that 70-year-old man who started to cry, people like Sean Eagan who
had spent the last 23 years of his life there, behind the bar and loved it.
The expansion of Judie's Restaurant had originally been set for
completion in April, but now won't be totally finished until the fall of
2007. The newly renovated space will be twice as large, with a capacity
of 160 from the original 93 seats. Not much will change in the
restaurant itself, but the new space will house a bigger bar area and
possibly the neon pink "Barselotti's" sign.
Sean Eagan currently owns the Barsie's name and is planning on opening a
new and improved bar sometime in the future. He hopes to create a
restaurant/bar type establishment, much like The Pub, The Hangar, or
Rafters; where people in Amherst can come for dinner and stay for
drinks. "Bars like Barsie's are a dying breed, there's just too much
working against them," he said. It was non-profitable to get hardly any
customers until 11 or 12 at night when the college crowd makes it uptown.
* * *
Graduation is weeks away and the majority of my time is spent completing
assignments, finishing up reading I've procrastinated in doing all
semester and enjoying what time I have left in Amherst. Although walking
around uptown is now a much different experience. A cell phone in one
hand and a Starbucks soy vanilla latte in the other, I pass the place
where Barsie's used to be. No window, no stools, no taps, no bar - just
a half-built wooden fortress slated to be the new location of a bigger
Judie's.
Those old Barsie's regulars need not worry, though.
"So what will you miss about the bar?" I asked Eagan.
"Oh, I'm not so sure I've got it out of my system yet," he laughed.
I wish I could relate.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
� Copyright 2007 The Daily Collegian
