Blog Ronny’s: Locals weigh in on the good, the bad, and the bathrooms

Okay, let’s clear up a few things. First, Ronny’s in Logan Square, as a whole, is not closed. It’s just not having shows anymore because, unfortunately, it didn’t have a permit to actually have shows. Ronny’s is, in fact, currently in the midst of some legal proceedings to try and get its show privileges back. People can still go drink there and hang out.

Second, Ronny’s is a hell of a polarizing place. When the cops raided the joint a couple of weeks back, the Internet caught on fire, with some people lamenting yet another local musical venue going down the drain and other people pissing on the club’s proverbial rock grave. Observations are objective, as always, and public opinion of Ronny’s wasn’t exactly a secret before the shit hit the fan. But we are talking about a local business owner’s livelihood, right?

Hey, everyone’s entitled to an opinion, but whose opinion is better? The A.V. Club reached out to readers and local musical luminaries alike to get their two cents on the situation.

Daniel Perzan, multi-instrumentalist in Yawn
“The first and only time Yawn ever played a show at Ronny’s, a friend’s band asked us to open for them. It was early March, and there was grimy, black slush everywhere—and I’m not talking about the rain gutters outside. The place was both an acceptable and an unacceptable mess. Full of dirt, it was the perfect environment for crusty hipsters and gummy old locals to congregate, filling up on cheap beer and even cheaper shots. The poop-encrusted bathrooms came 100 percent guaranteed with enough ‘I fucked your mom’ scribbles to keep you amused, even while taking the most strenuous of number-twos. Ronny (presumably the burly bear slinging drinks) never seemed to pay the live room much attention, which is surprising since the leaky den featured such a shockingly great sound system for an ‘illegal’ venue. Can’t we just call it D.I.Y.?”

Laura Madalinski
“Just after the smoking ban, I went to see my friend’s band play there. I was trying my best to suffer through the thick stench of sewage (which had been miraculously hidden by the cigarette smoke in former days) that had become a mainstay of shows at Ronny’s. Finishing my beer, I walked over to the trashcan they used to use for recycling beer bottles and cans, or at least I thought it was for recycling. As I’m about to toss my bottle in, I notice a rat. Yes, a dead rat—a filthy, gross, black, shiny, sewer rat. It appeared to be almost gingerly tossed onto the near-overflowing heap of recyclables. Needless to say, after that, I never went back.”

Jim DeRogatis, journalist and host of Sound Opinions
“Ronny’s is special. Vortis first played the place between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, 2008. It was the coldest day of the winter, and the bands—which included a young group from Florida, which hadn’t packed winter clothing and had been waiting in its unheated van for several hours before the doorman arrived to open up—could see their breath inside the club. Even so, Ronny’s smelled of cat piss, as it always did, which was hard to explain, because there never was a feline in sight. Spanning the door where bands load their gear in and out was a thick marble slab which, besmeared by snow and ice, became treacherous to anyone struggling with an unwieldy bass drum or a 90-pound Marshall cabinet. Most of us fell prey to this hazard at one point or another, suffering a sore butt, a twisted ankle, or merely some wounded pride. But it was character building…. With or without the whiff of cat pee, it remains one of our favorite places in the rock universe.” (Read the rest of DeRogatis’ thoughts here.)

Chuck Uchida, owner of Club Foot
“My band, I Love Rich, was playing at Ronny’s on a 97-degree summer day. When the owner arrived, I saw him walking into the bar and turning the coolers on. As a result, the beer was hot, not room temperature, all night. In addition as we loaded our equipment into the 100-degree-plus band room, there were feces on the floor. Not sure if it was human or not, but it was a big dog if it was.”

Jonah Malarsky, local musician
“I only got to play at Ronny’s once, but [I] remember that the pool table in the bar area was more interesting than the music room. The staff was friendly enough, but I felt like I could have just as easily walked in and said I was on the list to play a 20-minute set as having been scheduled in the first place. I liked their small stage, and [I] remember being told that it must be new-ish, back in April, because a few people who came said it didn’t used to be ‘so nice.’”

Nan Warshaw, co-owner of Bloodshot Records
“One of the times I suffered through Ronny’s in order to see a band, I was in the bar attempting to order a drink. First off, they have a horrible liquor selection—I drink Irish whiskey, and they don’t have Bushmills or Powers, nor do they have any decent bourbon. The only beer they carry is conglomerate, watery American beer. So, I order something to drink that wasn’t what I really wanted. The bartender brings my drink, and I hand her a $20. She does not take my money, but says, “Exact change.” I reply that I don’t have any smaller bills. She says, “Exact change” again, and walks away with my drink. Eventually, I get change from another customer, buy my poor excuse of a drink that is overpriced to boot, and try to take it into the band room only to find out the door between the bar and band room is locked. The only option is to go outside and back in to get to the band room. I’m not allowed to take my drink outside. There are no drinks of any kind served in the band room. That was the very last time I went to Ronny’s. If it doesn’t reopen, I say good riddance.”

Steve Reidell, of Shapers and The Hood Internet
“I’ve only played there once, during Mauled By Tigers Fest in maybe 2006? The main thing I remember is that the outside ‘patio’ featured a duck that was hanging out in a cage. Further investigation revealed that the duck’s name was Mr. Quackers.”

Sam O’Rama, employee at Laurie’s Planet Of Sound
“My almost-last trip to Ronny’s, I was there on a Sunday night for my friend’s band, Vee Dee. I walk in the bar portion and Mrs. Ronny, the bartender, is playing pool with some friends of hers. I wait like 10 minutes before she decides to come to the bar and serve me and a few others who have been waiting. I get my two cans of PBR (unopened) and go in the music room. People going for drinks disappeared in the bar for like 20 minutes, despite there being no more than like 10 people at the show. After Vee Dee is done, we go back in the bar, wait a half hour for another beer, and I decide to put money in the jukebox. One of Mrs. Ronny’s friends runs over to the jukebox to tell me he already put money in and hadn’t played all his credits. “Fine,” I say. I’ll wait for him to pick more songs and return. I wait like 10 minutes, which seemed reasonable, and returned to the jukebox, at which point Mrs. Ronny runs over screaming and freaking out, saying I shouldn’t be using it, that I hadn’t put money in there, and am a liar. At this point, we decide to go drink elsewhere. I never returned except for the all-ages Bonnie “Prince” Billy show, where I never entered the bar or bought a drink. Good riddance, Ronny’s.”

Aaron Cynic, local journalist
“My band, Burning Luck, played there a handful of times over the summer, and I really liked the place. Yes, it was a ‘dive’ type joint, but in the same way that, say, The Mutiny is a ‘dive’ or The Fireside Bowl used to be a ‘dive.’ It was small, the stage was really short, and I could never seem to find the light inside the men’s room, but that’s exactly the kind of venue I’ve always liked. They had a decent sound system, always run by one knowledgeable person or another. The folks working behind the bar were always nice to us, and shows usually ran pretty smoothly as far as things being on time, bands getting paid, etc. I thought they worked well with the people at MPShows, who were the ones who booked the shows we played.

It wouldn’t surprise me if there weren’t permits or something [that] may haven’t been exactly up to city code, but I never felt that it was dangerous or in some other way out-of-line. If the account I read is true, it’s good that everything that happened went down in a calm and orderly fashion, but it’s just sad for Chicago to lose another small venue like that. We all know it can be difficult for bands, especially smaller bands just starting out or bands who just don’t have the time to play very often, to find a venue that’s accessible, affordable, and friendly to more underground acts. Ronny’s was a good place for that.”

Quinn Goodwillie, guitarist and vocalist for Mt. St. Helens
“My band, Mt. St. Helens, played Ronny’s a few times. The most memorable time was a Halloween show in 2006 with Hanalei.

The place was always a bit off. The bathrooms were even worse than The Fireside in its heyday. Notably, there was a lawn mower on top of the pool table in the bar area. I don’t recall Ronny’s having a lawn.

We were lucky enough to have a great turnout for the show, and Ronny was definitely moved by the energy of the people who attended. A lot of people showed up in costume. Ronny, being ever hospitable, set up a wok on a wobbly table by the front door. The cord was plugged into an outlet just barely close enough to power it. Pretty soon this wobbly table with a taut cord was also filled with boiling oil, while everyone was drunkenly navigating their way through the bar and bumping into it. At least we finally had an explanation as to why the giant container of raw chicken wings had been sitting out on the bar, unrefrigerated, since we’d loaded in.

Amazingly the boiling oil scalded no one. However, there were chicken bones all over the floor by the end of the night. That’s something you’d hardly notice at Ronny’s though. Ronny was always nice to us and gave us free beer all night long.”

Eric U [name withheld for his protection]
“I was seeing Mouth Of The Architect there, maybe like 10 months ago, and the service was terrible. I bought a beer and gave them a $5 for it, and was waiting forever for the change, and I still didn’t get it, so I went to go wait in the bathroom, and the latch for bathroom door didn’t work. And by then I was pretty pissed (both in the angry and British senses), so I third-definitioned of-the-word all over the bathroom. Not a long story, but I think that’s pretty representative of what Ronny’s is all about.”

Kelly Hageman, local business owner
“First of all, as someone who has owned a small business, I am well aware of the frightening and sometimes expensive process of obtaining necessary permits to operate in the city. To hear of a beloved establishment getting busted––even if they deserve it––is not something that should inspire giggles (or the full-on roaring laughter I get every time I ask someone ‘Hey, did you hear about Ronny’s?’).

But Ronny’s isn’t a place whose demise could ever whip its patrons into a fundraising frenzy, as in the recent case of the Heartland Cafe’s financial trouble, for example. No one’s going to pat Ronny’s on the back and say, ‘Don’t worry, Ronny’s. We forgive you for being essentially a toilet with neon lights. We’ll get through this together,’ and that’s because I can’t think of a single redeeming facet this bar could ever boast.

I appreciate dive bars as much as the next Chicagoan twentysomething, but Ronny’s has never managed to pull itself above the level of ‘appallingly intolerable’ that most folks find generally acceptable. A standard dive bar allows for some degree of give and take—sketchy characters, hit-or-miss service, dank atmosphere, a general unpleasant smell—all to be expected in most places, and all accepted in the name of a good time with friends. But Ronny’s made every possible mistake a bar could make, times 10.

Ronny’s trademark is the pervasive stench that hangs heavy in the air. The rumored complaint from the city is that the smell was natural gas. I always believed it to be a fine bouquet of cat pee, mold, sewage, and armpit. It went largely unnoticed until the smoking ban. I will always remember Ronny’s as the first bar that caused my friends to say in between gags, ‘Huh. Maybe the smoking ban was actually a terrible idea.’

Ordering drinks was always an ordeal. Prices were double what they were in most places. It was an obscene markup, especially when you consider that they didn’t have a liquor distributor and allegedly bought all their stuff from the liquor store on the corner. Prices varied depending on how drunk and/or angry the bartenders were. Acting inconvenienced when dealing with customers can be standard operating procedure at dive bars, but Ronny’s is the only place I’ve ever seen a bartender seethe with unbridled hatred in response to ‘Hey, can I have another beer please?’

And the moisture, my God. There was always at least half an inch of mystery fluid on the ground. I remember one night we were all pretty sure it was sewage.

The ‘patio’ was at one point a ragtag collection of boards and planks that creaked and bent when you walked on them, and I remember a massive hole that everyone knew to sidestep, which was no small feat, because it was usually pitch black out there. It was kind of amazing when they closed the patio off. I took it as a rare sign of care for customers.

I literally cannot discuss the bathroom situation without dry heaving. All I can say is that I no longer fear hell, for turning on the light in the women’s bathroom at Ronny’s is tantamount to staring Mephistopheles directly in the eye. Any quick trip I ever took to the W.C. almost always resulted in a mini-existential freak-out about whether I was actually cut out for city life. It was that bad.

My one positive memory of Ronny’s was when I went to see Thee Oh Sees. I skipped shows I wanted to see all the time just for hearing they were happening at Ronny’s. But being such a huge Coachwhips fan, I absolutely could not miss Oh Sees. No longstanding Ronny’s trauma was undone by how fantastic the show was. But I vividly remember finding it a most appropriate backdrop to a sweaty, bug-eyed John Dwyer accosting me on my way out and saying, ‘The next time I come to Chicago, I will have pectoral implants, and you will have shot your boss.’ I’m guessing he confused me for someone else. But in that moment, it wouldn’t have been as great had it happened anywhere else.

I will never forget the last time I was at Ronny’s. It was just for a quick drink before dinner with friends. There was nothing particularly unpleasant about the experience (aside from the usual horrors that I’d come to accept as the norm). I remember finishing my beer, throwing my hands up, and announcing ‘This place sucks; I’m never coming back.’ I don’t regret my decision.”