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| all photos and art - Jacob Katel |
Snapper and fries. $8.50.
Tilapia. Shrimp. Conch. Chicken. Souse.
Sweet potato pie.
Barbecue Ribs.
All this and more at prices so good they could not last.
Thirty foot bar. Cold drinks. An order window. Stage. Bands. Grill outside. Music. Porch. TV. Speakers. Lady with a gold tooth posted up selling perfume lotion.
Old r&b singers. Chicago blues guitarists. David Hudson. Treetop.
Curvy women dancing in the night.
Jokes and laughs and the cleaver's chop striking through the bones.
Food orders on paper tickets.
Special menu. All dishes served with fries.
Guy on a bike with a boombox the size of an old little ceasars double pizza box.
Gas station next door. Classic cars.
NW 7th ave. Traffic. Sirens. Rumbling chrome.
Paper bag. Foil. Two pieces white white bread drowned in red sauce. Sweet hot tangy barbecue. Fire crisp chicken. Crunchy, juicy, burnt, tender. Chew. Repeat.
Owner Coley interviewed and featured in my books People's History of Overtown vol. 1 and Inside Juke Joint City, offering an excellent perspective on life and business in Miami before and after the mass Cuban influx.
I have always used my real name in everything i do and published all my work in front of everybody, independently.
This surely confuses outsiders who have been fed mostly lies, misinformation, disinformation, limited perspectives, public relations, strategic ignorance, profitable slants, misrepresented allegations, conjecture, opinions as facts, basic errors, and other problematic revisions as to the true history of the real Miami.
That is why I am considered disruptive to the bullshit and why the status quo fears the quill of basic, solid, shoes on the ground, old school style, in person, face to face, primary source journalism highlighting excellence in the everyday, the overlooked, the champions of reality, the true representatives of The People.
History consists of everything that happens at a time in a place, not some hater-fueled narrative stoked by a long corrupt publishing industry or lazy academic out of towners, or their greedy local counterparts.
The industry has tried their best to make me radioactive, but a radioactive mutation is what gave Spiderman his powers.
Shout out to Shantel Lounge. Thank you to Mr. Colebrook. A cool dude.
I'm in the streets because riding bike indoors is for scaredycat dorks with security details (I joke, I joke), and Im a Miami Dade freedog since 1988 with a long, heavy 50,000 miles under my belt so far and more on the way
Stay tuned