Live From New York - James H. Miller [60]
ROBIN WILLIAMS, Host:
Years and years and years ago, before I even did the show, I’d come to the studio those nights when they were shooting, and then after they’d go down to the Blues Bar. Way back when. Dan brought me down there the first time. I said, “What is this?” He said, “Just step inside, don’t be afraid, Robin, just step inside. You’ll see — there’s amazing people, wonderful music, just step inside.” It was like, you’d walk in and it was funky. “Funky” is a good word. The old sense of, “Was that a rat?” “Maybe.” The rat’s going, “Hey, shut up.” The crowd was a really mixed bag, you know — a lot of the performers, musicians, Michael O’Donoghue — always good for an unusual laugh — and Dan bartending and kind of being maitre d’. A really wild, mixed group of people.
BRIAN DOYLE-MURRAY:
There would always be a party, usually at some chichi restaurant. There was a velvet rope and it was supposedly, you know, the event. Actually, it was usually pretty grim. But Lorne would hold court at a table, usually with whoever the guest host was, and people would hang out in their own little cliques. Then there would be some talk, you know, about who the good-looking girls were, and things like that. But then people would bail out of there and go down to the Blues Bar. And there’d usually be a band, and Danny and John would be performing, and it was a lot looser atmosphere.
BILL MURRAY:
I was one of those Blues Bar people. Stayed until the sun came up. You had to blow off a lot of steam. You had an amazing performance high that lasted because it had built to this explosive point at an odd hour of a normal person’s day, between eleven-thirty and one A.M.
You couldn’t really just say good night and go home and go to sleep. You were up for hours. You had all this energy and this uplift and you had to sort of work it off, so you could go to the Blues Bar, where you could dance and you could drink and you could be funny and could meet a lot of people and really carry on. It was necessary to have a place to go. You couldn’t just go to an ordinary place, because there were a lot of people who would crash into it.
You had a very weird energy; it was just a completely different energy after you did that thing. You weren’t fit for normal people. You had to go someplace where you could let yourself down gradually. So that was great that they provided this place where you could go and you’d be safe.
At any point, if there was someone that was bothering you, every person that was already in was a bouncer. And you’d just say, “You’ve got to go.” And it was kind of funny, because they would think they’d just walk away from you, like, “No, that’s all right, man, I won’t bother you anymore.” “No, no, you’re not going to bother anybody else either.” And it was a shocking moment when someone would get in and start working it and then get evicted by anybody. The women would just go, “He’s out. Danny? Billy? This guy — out.” And out he’d go. I know famous people got tossed out too. Famous people in their own area came, and when they obviously were just sucking blood, they were just evicted. We had no time for that. We were really just trying to get down to a safe level so you could sleep. Because you couldn’t really sleep until six in the morning no matter what you did.
LARAINE NEWMAN:
When I saw Trainspotting they had a sign, “the filthiest toilet in Scotland.” Well, the toilet at the Blues Bar was the filthiest toilet anywhere. It was so vile. Nothing short of Turkish torture with a hole in the ground. And the walls had water damage and were peeling and stank unbelievably. The floor was always wet, completely wet. Wadded-up tissue on the floor. And yet it was a fun hang — a windowless hole