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Watch a video interview with Dennis and Cory Hammerstone on Mardi Gras below.
There are multiple ways to take in the Soulard Mardi Gras experience, especially on parade day. You can score invitations to house parties, buy a ticket to a party tent, simply wander the streets in hopes of running into friends, or you can celebrate outside of Soulard, since every bar with a tap handle declares itself a New Orleans-like destination for one night a year. And it’s true that many folks, including a good chunk of those living in Soulard, simply opt out altogether, staying as far away from the madness as possible.
But without need for much argument, the most interesting way to take in the experience is to become a worker. In that role, your eyes and ears are still tuned to the street, but you aren’t in Soulard for the obvious reasons—cups thrown to the ground, bare bosoms, and shouting for no particular reason. Instead, you’re there to provide needed services for the thousands of people on-hand for exactly those purposes. (Along with the folks who are on their best behavior, too. All 59 of them.) And of all the places to select for such a work experience, Hammerstone’s, the classic Soulard bar at the corner of 9th and Russell, is a perfect place to take in the scene.
For starters, the place has been doing business, under family ownership, for close to two decades, and they’ve got their system down pat. Located on one of the busiest intersections of the neighborhood, organization is key, and the Hammerstone family and their Mardi Gras-tested staff know exactly how to run both their inside and outside operations at a pace that’s intense, but smooth. That all starts by segmenting out parts of the business.
On Saturday, the indoor bar and restaurant was used as a private, ticketed event space, with blues music and bathroom accessibility all day long. Getting onto the patio required an affordable wristband purchase, but allowed attendees the chance to simply sit, order from a nearby bar, and relax, slightly, from the chaos of the street. And that’s, of course, where the real action took place. With a plywood barrier pushing out onto both Russell and 9th, Hammerstone’s was wrapped by a large “L”-shaped fortress; inside, a dozen-plus workers carried out very specific functions.
Kitchen staffers brought out steam trays of pulled pork, jerk chicken, and hamburgers. Porters wheeled in barrel after barrel of Bud Light, alongside a few kegs of Schlafly Pale Ale. A backline of pourers efficiently filled cups to the brim, ready for the bartenders to distribute to the masses. And the bartenders’ role? Well, you’re in the breach, getting that face-to-face time with an amped up public.
Working the line last Saturday, I experienced that interplay first hand, a few years after pulling similar duty at the South Broadway Athletic Club. Riding to Soulard on my bike from Tower Grove East, which took almost as long as it would to walk through it in the densely packed streets, I was thrown into action exactly where I hoped to land, along the wall as a bartender.
There, I was placed between seven-months-pregnant Candace (who was chipper beyond any expectation, considering her condition and general mayhem) and Jason, a veteran bartender at these events. They were as helpful as possible in getting me up to speed, and within about 20 minutes, the routines all made sense. Take an order, supply it. When there's downtime, prepare a few shots. When the money gets stacked high, make a drop and collect small bills. Then do that again. And again and again. And then a few more times. That’s not to suggest monotony.
Instead, my prime-time, four-hour shift passed remarkably quickly and with something completely resembling fun. For starters, the Hammerstone’s crew was amazingly cordial. Voices were calm, jobs were executed with good pace. Like an embedded war reporter, my empathy was quickly attuned to the crew, and I started feeling that bonding thing that service industry workers know around the world; you can have issues, but when there’s work to be done, it’s an all-positive, us-against-the-world mentality that gets you through. And on a day with the intensity of Mardi Gras, a bit of gallows humor makes the minutes tick by more quickly. And the jokes were flying as quickly as $5 hurricanes.
And the customers, the ones who inspired the jokes? Well, they’d been on the street for hours, drinking, merrymaking and soaking up the intense vibe. They could be rude and nutty, but also cool and generous. They came in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors. And, for whatever reason, they stayed dressed. If there was flashing (or fighting) taking place in Soulard on Saturday, it wasn’t seen from the Hammerstone’s corner between 2 to 6 p.m.
The rest of life’s rich pageant passed on by, though. All those funny, funny people! They had some drinks, threw some cups, hooked up with co-workers, made some memories. They had fun. As did I. If Hammerstone’s will have me back next year, I’m down for the full-day shift. Working is now the only way I want to enjoy Mardi Gras—as part of a team, sheltered from the storm by goodwill and reinforced lumber.
Mardi Gras '11: Behind the Lines with the Hammerstones from Thomas Crone on Vimeo.
