The Blue Goose
Should have been named… THE PARENTS NIGHTMARE. It was the kind of place your parents always warned you about. And just like all those other parental warnings, no way you would stay away from it. This all night speakeasy was a mixture of Dodge City, Tombstone Territory and a generous helping of Big Apple’s Hell Kitchen.
Only one way in, and with the back of the joint nestled against a swamp, there was only one way out too. Go north up Beech Street ‘til it ends, then right along a dirt road for about 100 feet. Now take a hard right turn and head into pitch black darkness. At the very end of nowhere sits a little concrete blocks bucket of blood club you had to cut your way into, and shoot your way out of. Sitting in the midst of that total darkness, was The Blue Goose. More appropriately nicknamed by locals as simply “the Home”!
Entering the front door, usually a skins-game was going on at the table to your left, and a “crooked” crap game in the corner on your right. The only drinks served were RC Cola Budweiser Malt Liquor by the can, and the killer of the Kentucky Gentleman Bourbon, half pints only. That cheap rotgut would make you go bare knuckles with your grandmother. Although they did boast of having the freshest chicken sandwiches in town and you could actually hear them choking the birds back there in the kitchen!
Late Saturday nights when all the young ladies had gone home and everything else in town was closed, just make your way over the hill to “the Hole”. Before daybreak you were sure to get off all the frustrations of missed opportunities in an all-out, free for all brawl that sooner or later was sure to happen.
This was a place where hormonal young men relieved stress on Saturday night by going at it like raging grizzlies. Seems insane! Well it actually kept young male aggression intact, and you have to admit it, murder rates were a lot lower than they are today thanks … in part to THE BLUE GOOSE!
From Harambee 2007, an album created for the Brooklyn/Green Meadows Reunion