Robert E. Brown. The 2 Street Chronicles

Tommy Trouble Part I: The Old Coke Stand and a New Plan

The 2 street bar had quite a history. It had been in the owners family for three generations, sporting the oldest continuous liquor license in Philadelphia. When the bar opened, it literally sat on the border of the city, the rest of south Philly was a third world shanty town of irish refugees living in muddy squalor. It was so old that at one time it sported running piss troughs along the floor of the bar. It was so old, it was one of the first tavern's in the city that decided to allow women. (albeit, through a new back door in a separate room.) It was so old that they had yellowed crumbling photos of the "nigger stick." A dented 2"x4" used on any poor black who made a wrong turn onto 2 street.

But sadly the owner's greed had nearly destroyed the bar two years before I started. The manager's father had run the bar with an iron fist for the owners family for 40 years. He was a feared lone shark who had used the bar as a base of operations to dominate the numbers racket in south Philly. But he had taken ill and passed, leaving a power void in the bar and on 2 street.

One of the bartenders took over and promptly cut a supply deal with a gang of columbians; using the bar as an over the counter cocaine stand. The amount of drugs sold was said to have been staggering. They estimated the average bartender collected around 5,000 dollars a day in drug revenue. Every bartender was double employed and became so busy that a couple of them subcontracted people to take on the chore of making drinks so they wouldn't be distracted from their drug sales. The owner claimed no culpability in any of this, turning a blind eye. But did institute a two drink minimum for anyone who came into the bar. Being that it was four deep at 11 o'clock in the morning, he was seeing dollar signs.



Eventually the cocaine became so openly over the counter that not even the Philly police could ignore it. My manager (who was then just the cook) came to work one morning to find the building boarded up and tacked with police notices. The manager/ringleader at the time was the one to get popped and took the fall for the other bartenders and the Columbians. He was hailed as a 2 street folk hero for not snitching and everyone toasted him with fondness. The owner however had some amount of buyers remorse. The LCB and the city did everything in it's power to take away the bar. A million dollars in fees and fines, countless court appearances and a year later the boards were pulled off the doors to vermin and maggot infestations from all the rotting food abandoned in the kitchen and walk in.

After years of watching the 2 street madness from the kitchen, the new manager had plans to combat the mayhem that was often amplified by the bartenders. His plan was to staff the place with outsiders. He brought in his brother Jon who was a tough but sweet steel worker who like the manager, had shunned his crime family roots. Then there was Michelle, a jaw dropping can't control yourself from drooling when you see her 21 year old from the italian area of South Philly. Myself of course being the ultimate stranger in the strange land plucked from his mother's art gallery. The only original true 2 street bartender left was Tommy, a neighborhood barfly who already sported dentures in his mid thirties from bouts with speed and 2 streeter fists. He had been involved in the coke dealing but was spared from jail because of the old managers tight lip. Tommy by proxy, wasn't going to allow the 2 street madness to go quietly into the night.


My Company