PUNCH recently published a new essay of mine, “Montero Bar & Grill Sets Sail Into a New Era,” which pondered: Can a beloved and historic bar maintain its charms under new ownership? I had been privy to the news that Pepe and Linda Montero were planning on retiring and selling the Montero Bar & Grill, their beloved almost 90-year-old nautical-themed Brooklyn Heights dive bar a few blocks from the nearby waterfront, a year before the news became official.
Beyond the legacy of the bar and what its future might hold after being acquired by the Crew the seafaring restaurant group owned by brothers and lifelong sailors Alex and Miles Pincus, I had bigger concerns as I’ve lived above the bar since moving in two weeks before the pandemic flipped the world upside down in March 2020.
Thankfully, they soon assured me that they wanted me to stay (it takes a certain kind of character to live over a dive bar next to a BQE on-ramp), and promised longtime regulars that they planned to “keep Montero, Montero.”
I like to think that I know a thing or two about what makes a dive bar, a dive bar. I’ve often written about neighborhood dives and featured several examples in my book, Last Call. Since the summer of 2022 I’ve been curating the popular “Dive Bar Jukebox” series here on LAST CALL, where a cast of cool characters--including musicians, bartenders, authors, chefs, and restaurateurs--answer the Dive Bar Q&A and share an annotated playlist of songs they would play and why if I put ten credits on the jukebox at bar. I even spent two long years, and a lot of late nights, working on a book about dive bars until I gave up after spiraling to the realization that most of them didn’t give a damn about being featured in a book. (I still have the spreadsheet in my Google Drive with hundreds of potential cross-country dives of which I planned to visit many with photographer Ed Anderson.)
In my essay for PUNCH, which I hope you’ll jump over to read, I spent an afternoon at Montero with Alex as regulars drifted in and out and music played on the speakers and the local news looped highlights of the Knicks playoff run on the overhead TV. We had a long conversation about the bar’s legacy and its future, and the weight of responsibility he and the Crew team feel as stewards and their plan to make sure the historical bar lives on into a new era.
So if you’re still worried about Montero changing for the worse in any way, do yourself a favor and read the story first before leaving any knee-jerk comments online.
I also spoke with Amethyst Valentino, the ethereal host of Montero’s popular Thursday through Saturday night karaoke sessions for the past 18 years, where she possesses a Stevie Nicks-like presence, complete with witchy woman vibes and a firm-but-welcoming den mother presence swirled in a wisp of magic and mystery.
The at times raucous karaoke parties take place directly below my kitchen, but I’ve grown used to its specific vibrations which feel like a cool neighbor having friends over for a party. By now I can name the most of the oft-requested songs in three notes, like “Paradise By the Dashboard Light,” “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” “Mr. Brightside,” “Landslide,” “Zombie,” and “Under Pressure.” And I get a kick when I hear someone singing songs from the BTP Songbook, like “Love Will Tear Us Apart,” “Girlfriend in a Coma,” “Boys Don’t Cry,” “Pretty in Pink,” “Can’t Hardly Wait,” or “Common People.”
When I first moved in I had planned to develop a persona of the eccentric guy who lived upstairs and drop in on Saturday nights in a big bathrobe like Brian Wilson, wearing TCB sunglasses and balancing a whiskey sour in one hand and a microphone in the other, belting out an immaculate rendition of “Suspicious Minds” before disappearing back upstairs.
That still hasn’t happened, for better or worse, and, in fact, since moving in I’ve only performed two karaoke numbers downstairs. The first time was a late December night with friends and one of them put my name down without telling me so I really had no choice when Amethyst called my name. Luckily it was one of my favorite songs, “Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl)” by Looking Glass, which was especially on point as its about sailors and bars and lost love and ships at sea. And dare I say, I owned it, and wondered why I didn’t do this more often. Amethyst even gave me her personal thumbs-up approval.
While there’s a quote or two from our Karaoke Queen in the PUNCH story, I wanted to share my full Q&A with Amethyst in all its glory as a companion piece of sorts. I hope you enjoy it.
As a beloved host, you seem to possess, and enlighten the room, with a certain spirited, ethereal charm. Could you imagine Montero without you being an elemental part of the bar experience?
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.