Good evening,

I was just signing off inside the Playhouse this evening and happened to reread my post from this past Friday night. It seemed appropriate to re-post the same words out here on the front page as they do signal the end of an era in my small corner of the world. I want as many people as possible to share my pain. The post is in regards to the weathered little place that was my favorite hangout for many years. Alas, the gentrification process that has swept over most of Los Angeles County has now claimed the humble Mermaid as well. For decades the Mermaid was a refuge for the kir-sipping elderly in the South Bay, and also a bastion of hope for a variety of slovenly, hard-drinking types such as myself who populate these beach areas. Pamela Anderson could have sat in there all day completely naked without anyone trying to pick up on her. The place was just too downtrodden and stodgy to attract any of the singles scene.

Many of the elderly patrons and the bar staff were overtly hostile and extremely possessive of their territory. They fiercely resented the spillover crowds that would sometimes try to invade the Mermaid when the surrounding bars on the Hermosa Pier were filled to capacity. Years ago one of the bartenders informed one of my roommates that the Mermaid did not accept a US Passport as valid identification, refused to serve him, and told him to get the fuck out. That's when I grew to love the place. Those old codgers behind the bar had no fear of customers who were under 60. They just wanted the young punks to stay out of there. I was right there with them in spirit every time they snatched too much money out of a youthful customer's hand and refused to make change. Or served them full-priced drinks with ice, mixers, and none of the requested alcohol in them. They would even add insult to injury by putting salt around the rim of a margarita that contained no alcohol whatsoever. I suffered a few indignities in there myself early on, but I grew to feel pretty comfortable in the place because I dressed like the homeless, drank my vodka both straight and quietly, and plied the staff with generous tips. I know how to be respectful of my elders.

A few years ago I was in there watching some big sporting event,(maybe the Super Bowl?), and the singer from Creed or something was singing during the halftime show while wearing one of the team's jerseys. A voice rang out in the dark bar: "Willie Nelson wouldn'ta put that DAMN jersey on." The room remained silent as the scattered patrons stared at the TV and pondered the crass commercialism of the spectacle. Then the Creed guy was replaced by some other well-known performers, (I can't remember who), who began singing a version of some song that was popular that year. There was a palpable sense of disenchantment in the room and finally one of the ancient patrons belted out: "WHATEVER HAPPENED TO "GOD BLESS AMERICA?" We all drank to that although no one uttered a word in response. It was that type of tacit camaraderie that gave the place its character.

Now things have changed. Over the past year the shift in clientele started becoming too startling to ignore. I went for a good 10 months or so trying to delude myself into believing it wasn't really happening, but these are the words I wrote when I came home from the Mermaid on Friday night (or was it Saturday morning-hehe..):


Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2004 6:44 am    Post subject:
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.....I'm very sad to report that my former favorite bar now sucks. The Mermaid in Hermosa Beach has now become trendy. I can't stand it. How does a place become socially desirable for the masses after 50+ years of catering to the elderly? Very depressing. I've always enjoyed little dive bars, particularly those that cater to the older set. Today I had 1 drink at the Mermaid and had to leave. The place has slowly but surely been becoming more popular and tonight there was even a doorman at the door. A cleanshaven young one who uses steroids. I write all this with a heavy heart because for so many years I've gone there to hobnob with the senior citizens and watch the spillover crowd from the "cool" bars on the Hermosa Beach Pier pop their heads in the door, sneer, and leave. Now they come in to the Mermaid and stay to hang out with their friends. This is like writing an obituary.

Fortunately I've located another neighborhood bar that is only frequented by locals. It's in a different town and you can only get in there through the back alley. They had a Labor Day bash on Monday which they advertised with signs above the liquor bottles behind the bar. Almost no one showed up. The owner's daughter had made homemade enchiladas and salsa and it was wonderful. I'm sad to report that 2 friends of mine went in there at some point during the day because I told them there was free food. They ordered 1 Coke, ate the free food, and left. One of them mentioned that they were friends of mine. I feel that they should be permanently barred from the premises and I know that I'm lucky that I'm not. The place actually has a very loyal following of regulars. I have not yet been accepted, but I'm positive that I can drink enough to at least make the all-female staff of bartenders like me.

I'll sign off now, but I can't help but despair a little bit over the loss of the Mermaid...
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Many kisses,

Tanya "


So, there it is. I've been sitting here writing this for 45 minutes for some reason. I needed to convey my memories of the Mermaid before they started to fade into oblivion. If only I'd done that for the Tap 'n Cap. I won't get into it now, but longtime residents of West Los Angeles may remember that now-defunct tavern that was on National Boulevard. 3 barstools and a lopsided pool table. My new favorite hangout shall remain nameless because I don't even know the name. If there ever was a sign outside the place it has long since disintegrated. It happens to be next to a decrepit building that looks like it houses something akin to a back-alley abortion clinic. I only say that because that was my first reaction to it 2 years ago when I first went by it. Either I was driving or jogging, but I can't remember now. The seediness of the bar and the neighboring business attracted my attention, but it took me 2 years to actually set foot in either place. (Usually dodgy locales like that draw me in like a magnet.) There are a lot of nervous, foreign-born women who disappear into the crumbling address next to the bar and I don't know what's going on in there. I feel reasonably confident that that weirdness alone is enough to dissuade the average person from ever coming into my new favorite place to get a drink. The elderly contingent does not seem to frequent the new hangout, but everyone there seems a bit similar in nature to the former patrons of the Mermaid. They all have an appreciation for the regenerative cycle in life: sometimes something is so bad that it's good.

-- XXOO Tanya