Tales From an Urban Chef

I knew Dave when I was a young punk trouncing around Clifton and Corryville. Our friendship circle was huge. I’ve never replicated this type of an amazing group of friends in the six or seven cities I’ve lived in.

My first encounter with Dave was when he worked the door at Sudsy Malone’s on short Vine.  I tended to hang out up front to see the bands.

One night, some jackass came in and grabbed one of the PA speakers and turned it against the wall. Dave chased him into the street to confront him, and a bunch of the guys friends started to fight him.

I immediately jumped in front of him, and they took one look at me and scattered as I tried to hold Dave back from tossing haymakers at them. It was a wild fucking night.

He never took any shit. None of my friends did. We were all bunch of scrappy motherfuckers who stood up to some of the lamest examples of human waste the city and University had to offer.

We chased Nazi skinheads out of our hood and didn’t give an inch to the jocks or frat boys that attempted to infiltrate the shit hole Nirvana we created in Clifton and surrounding areas. This was our turf, and we didn’t hand out passes to anyone and Dave was an integral part of my formative years in Cincinnati. 

Things change, we grow older, some of us move, some pass on, and some pass away, unfortunately. The old haunting grounds of Corryville and Clifton fell victim to change, a loss of a music, bar and club scene and eminent domain which gobbled up much of our old stomping grounds that are now corporate gulags for Univesity students.

I even said fond farewell to Cincinnati in 1992. I saw my surroundings change and needed a break. I think Dave saw it, too. People ended up migrating to a transitional neighborhood called Northside. Turn of the century architecture, industrial buildings, cheap rent, and Dave saw an opportunity to open a bar on the outskirts called The Comet.

I was in San Francisco for about a year when The Comet debuted.  I took a number of trips during that time back home and never  missed a chance to visit this great bar and say hi to Dave. He was always welcoming to me and made sure to ask me how I was.

Fast forward to 2000, and a freshly married Kevin moved back to Cincinnati with his wife and during my first spring in Cincinnati, if my memory is correct was the time I played on The Comet’s softball team.

I wasn’t great but I was a great singles hitter and a pretty lousy catcher. I didn’t care as long there was beer flowing.

My wife and I never missed a chance to see Dave’s uncle play bluegrass on Sunday’s and were called The Comet Bluegrass Allstars. Amazing group of musicians.

I haven’t been back home in almost five years. I’m not on social media anymore and found out by text that Dave passed away. It was like a gut punch. The guy I’ve known for over thirty-five years is gone. I was a loss for words. He made an indelible impression on the bar, music, and food scene in Cincinnati that I consider unparalleled.  I hope folks who knew him feel the same way.