Okay, I'm a former bartender, er, mixologist and have waited years, even decades, for the new thing that's been happening in Chicago (and Evanston): the craft cocktail lounge. Wow, you've got The Violet Hour, Three Dots and a Dash, The Punch House, Lost Lake and now, Ward Eight. The cocktails, ambiance and, hey, even the food are all outstanding at this cozy, dusky, jazz-infused gem. Very impressed with everything ... except for something Evanston cannot really control. That would be the harsh lighting and relative tackiness that awaits one just across Howard St. in Chicago. No, I can't expect Ward Eight to take a wrecking ball to the blaring eye-sore that is Popeye's Chicken just across the street. Besides, that's a neighborhood favorite, I suspect
Such is the price of gentrification, whereby you have the excellent pairing of Ward Eight and Peckish Pig on one side of the avenue, and Popeye's, Pawn Shops, and run down mom & pop joints just across the boulevard. Then again, this is how all 'new development' begins. Being a long-time denizen of Roger's Park, and living only blocks away from Ward Eight, I can't help but feel a tad queasy when pricey, upscale joints catering to virtually all-white hipsters (perhaps such as I) move into what is essentially a nearly all black and latino neighborhood. No, this really isn't a criticism of either business, per se. I'm glad they are both there and intend on frequenting both on future occasions.
That being said, there's something Ward Eight could do quite simply to take our minds off both tacky, yellow neon lighting for fast-food and the cognitive dissonance of gentrification: darken your windows. Or, put up more of those black shades which deflect the awful Popeye's lighting which hits one's gimlet eye like laser beams. My ladyfriend was facing the door and just couldn't get that fast-food chicken sign and lighting our of her line of vision. The overall effect even for me, facing away from the door, was that this dark, womb-like 'let's get lost', elegant booze joint - snatched out of some classic noir sans clouds of cigarette smoke (no, I don't miss it at all) - just wouldn't let me forget I was on Howard St., just across from Popeye's, Pawn and Loan shops, urban decay and neglect, and, sadly, the occasional drive-by shooting on the farthest northern edge of the big city.
Hey, I'm as aware and aggrieved of urban blight as anyone else here. And I'm also keenly sensitive to the water and oil pairing endemic of gentrification. I just don't want to be constantly reminded of it as I'm sliding into a carefree 'lost weekend' - sipping on an exquisitely crafted Old Fashioned or sublime Sidecar, grooving to Monk, Miles, Ellington and Coltrane, heavily eying shapely passersby, and gazing lovingly into my femme fatale's eyes. Let us enjoy the inside world for a couple hours, Ward Eight. Before we are forced to return to what it is that truly ails us all. - J. Dalessandro in the Naked City read more