I have lived an unsettled life, and this has contributed to me being one of these aging guys who has been a lot of places and done a lot of things. I've been about every place in the world and country I have wanted to go, and I have worked at everything from laborer to top executive of a company, from artist and writer to ditch digger and soldier. I have been everything from a responsible family man with a pretty young wife to a barfly on the prowl for any kind of wizened hag that passes my way after last call.
One of the lives I lived was as a bartender in Keansburg, New Jersey. This was a rough patch, to be sure. I was coming off of some devastating professional and personal losses and was fresh off actual homelessness, living in the woods outside of Lincoln, Nebraska (which was a whole other story). At the time, I was in the last chapter of a bad relationship with a girlfriend 20 years my junior and it was fresh after Hurricane Sandy, the worst howl I have ever been in. My apartment in a run-down flop house in Keansburg was destroyed by Sandy, which is to say my belongings were destroyed along with the thriving bedbug population of the Capuccio Hotel there.
Before Sandy (October 22, 2012), I was tending bar for an old friend, Tommy Keelen, at TJK. Actually, TJK was named for Tommy's initials. I do not know if Tommy is alive or dead anymore, which is a shame because he is or was a nice guy and a stand-up friend. Nevertheless, this is a story about what was, and not what is.
I thought about this after I came upon some old articles about how, four years after I left the bar, there was some big drug bust that involved his place and another bar down the road, Applejacks II, on Carr Avenue.
I remember that bar being so wild. It was a hangout for local townspeople but it got its fair share of bikers from around the state. I wouldn't have called it a biker bar -- but a sports bar where bikers came around a lot. Never have I been in an American bar so much like the Irish pubs I saw in Western Ireland when I visited there as a kid. It was more than a place for some food and drink: It was one of the hearts of the town's community. TJK actually tended to people who might otherwise have no place to go, while at the same time entertaining the younger people, the working people, the upright and downright respectable. But, TJK was this place of non-judgement, where simple kindness could be found by populations of people who could not expect understanding or kindness anywhere else. Maybe it was Tommy who once told me that Keansburg, as a community, was like a carnival troupe. I do not think that would be a bad comparison. Well, if that were true then Tommy was the caretaker of those who would have their tents far away from the Big Top. His place was a godsend to many.
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| Tommy Keelen and a lady friend (circa 2012) |
I did not get the nitty gritty about whatever drug bust happened years ago. Without knowing a thing, I could say the least likely person I would ever know to sanction such a thing would be Tom. He was not that kind of guy. No way. Rather, I would say what I remember about Tom. He was a business man, yes. But, he cared for people who were broken. He gave jobs to people who would otherwise be unemployable -- me for a time among them. I do not want to make this all about Tommy, though it could easily be. The man deserves a book. He was and maybe still is a gentle soul in the world, good at heart -- but with a hard right hook if you want any of that. He was extraordinary, cultured beyond what most people thought in his humble little burg. And, he had a joy in him that was sometimes the best and worst parts of being a kid. In fact, the one and only time I have ever seen a motorcycle driven through a bar, it just so happened that Tommy was riding it. No more about Tommy, but what a splendid fellow.
TJK served good food, had great characters who went there, and absolutely thumbed its nose at proper society, the likes of which could be found in nearby Middletown or Rumson. The bands were loud and the dance floors were filled with all forms of humanity on Friday and Saturday nights. The last time I danced so hard I was dripping with sweat and dog tired was there (of note, it was my night off). The food was good at TJK. Some of it, like the seafood, was amazing. Everyone knew how to cook and cook well -- Tommy taught everyone. Meanwhile, the beer was freezing and there were a lot of choices for a fair amount of money. No doubt, if I were to be fortunate enough to be granted entrance to heaven at the end of my days, heaven would not generally be TJK. However, TJK would certainly be somewhere over the wrong side of the heavenly tracks.
Could someone find a fight at TJK if they were looking for it? Yes. Maybe even if they weren't looking for it at the wrong place and time. But, the bar was not someplace where lawyers and accounts went. TJK was a place for honest, simple people who were not afraid of the world around them. It was not fancy. No one was talking about the next big business merger there. It was easy enough there -- you drank, you danced, played pool, watched a ball game, bitched about your boss or your wife, maybe you fell in love on the most perfect night of your life. Maybe you broke up with your girl there.
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| Tommy driving his Harley out of the bar at TJK in 2012 |
TJK was the best bar I have come across on three continents and several counties. And, along Memory Lane, it is a nice place to stop. Of course, this is the only place it resides now, as it is permanently closed. Well, the only constant is that things change. Yet, it is also said that nothing good lasts forever. I will leave it there.
