A PRAYER FOR THE KENTUCKY CLUB

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The Kentucky Club in Juarez, Mexico

first opened its doors in 1920. Over the years

that followed it became one of the most famous

watering holes along that hot and dry Mexican border.

Jack Dempsey drank a few here, so did John Wayne,

and Jack Kerouac. Marilyn Monroe bought the

house a round of drinks the night she celebrated

her Juarez "quickie" divorce from playwright

Arthur Miller. Richard Burton and Liz Taylor

"celebrated" a divorce here, and in more recent

times Bob Dylan and friends put a few down.

The walls are loaded up with photos of stars

and the legendary - politicians, boxers, artists -

that have sat right there, in that booth,

or on that barstool. It's a museum of sorts.

It's said that the drink -the Margarita - was

invented here by a house bartender in 1946.
It was traditionally interesting, fun, and safe.
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Today, business is off 75% or better.

The drug wars. The incredible carnage.

Over 8,000 killed here the last few years.

Eight to nine a day average over recent months.

It's considered to be the most violent city in

the world not in an actual combat war zone.

The fatalities now include lots of "civilians,"

people in no way connected to either gangs or

drugs. Adolescent birthday parties have been a

favorite target lately, and a dozen or more kids get

mowed down at a time. Decapitations are on the

increase, and one unlucky soul had their face

cut away from their head and stitched on to a

football. A couple of American college kids

with some youthful bravado got shot down

last week, just two blocks from the bridge

they were heading to cross, on their way home.

This is seriously evil stuff.
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When I was a kid growing up in El Paso, Texas,

Juarez's neighbor across the Rio Grande River , we

often came to Juarez for haircuts on Sunday mornings

after Mass. Afterward, on occasion, my dad would take

my brother and I a block up the street to the

Kentucky Club, where he'd have a morning highball

while looking over the Sunday Sports page

in The El Paso Times, and treat us to Coke's -

crushed ice in a tall glass with lime and a cherry.

It was a class act. The bartenders

always outfitted in starched white shirts and ties,

every hair in place, hands and nails immaculate,

gold fillings gleaming. Sunday mornings they

restocked the coolers and shelves, murmuring in

low tones to each other. An occasional laugh.

But very quietly, very low key.

A janitor slowly swept between the tables.

Glasses were polished to a glimmering shine.

But it seems now like it was all in slow motion.

This was like a church too, in some ways.

The place was almost always empty at this hour,

just an occasional elderly gent, or two, from the

neighborhood, or unusual anglos, like ourselves.

The Mexican Catholics were

mostly in church, or bed. The turistas were just

getting up in their motels on Mesa Street,

across the river.
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I loved the joint, and in later years always tried

to find time for a visit when I had the opportunity

to be in the area, even if for just an hour or two

on a hot afternoon.

It's one of those memories that "fits" well for me,

and makes the absolute obliteration of the old

Juarez hard to take. The Juarez of clubs and restaurants,

the vendors along Juarez Avenue, the photographers,

shoe shine boys, cigarette sales kids, whorehouse

hawkers, taxi drivers, and hustlers of every

type imaginable, hustling almost every thing

imaginable, and some things that went

beyond imagination. Past beyond.

But music, lots of music. In a visit

to the city market and a couple of clubs,

you could easily have heard a half-dozen

mariachi bands and combos of various stripes.

The music was always there.

I doubt that it is now.

It was poor, but the tourists came

and ate, and drank, and spread some dough.

Anyway, that's pretty much over now.

It's very apocalyptic, the way it's all going down.

The Kentucky Club, however, at last report,

still had its doors open.

And so we pray:

God in heaven, protect this old place we beg you.

Keep the guns far, far away, and allow those

who are brave enough to come to work here,

or enter in to share a cold one and camaraderie,

do so in peace and safety.

Though the "good times" are over in Juarez,

let them be remembered and talked about

as long as the doors of this old bar remain open.

Because once they're closed, it's all over and out.

Keep the darkness out there, O God, and spare

el propietario, su empleados y su clientes,

(the owner, his employees and his customers).

O Dear Virgin of Guadalupe,
Mystical Rose,
give to us sweet hope in the midst of the
bitterness of this life.
Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe,

ora por nosotros.
Our Lady of Guadalupe,
pray for us.
Amen

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For more info on the mess go here:

http://www.prayforjuarez.org/

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