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Joe Danno was the greatest. He was the greatest bartender, the greatest raconteur, the greatest expert on everything, and he had the best name in town. And the best bar.
The Bucket o' Suds was a place nonpareil.
When you sat there, on one of those rickety old barstools, facing Joe's museum of liquor bottles, you were indeed at the center of the universe. Your butt was on the stool, your feet were on the floor and your fingers were on the controls.
As cool a place as it was -- black walls, jazz and
a Royal Blast of a shot of Waterfill & Frazier and a glass of BBK dark -- the Bucket o' Suds was nothing without Joe. Joe Danno. Yeah, Joe Danno made the Bucket. Without Joe in the Bucket, it was was like looking at a corpse -- ain't got no swing, ain't got no soul.
Joe animated the
place like Disney animated cartoons, or, better, like those guys who did the Tom & Jerry cartoons that Joe loved so well. He was more important to the Bucket than Ruth was to Yankee Stadium or Lincoln was to the White House.
With his Royal Blasts, his BOS sauce (BBQ, Snap, Salubria et al.),
his pizza and his burgers of supreme guilty pleasure, Joe Danno was the architect of a supreme reality. With his pure Chicago look and accent, spouting his philosophies of jazz and life, he was the Great Emancipator of Soul. And swing. And all things good.
Too many times, and times not enough, I sat there and absorbed all that I could. I could never get enough, and I could never absorb it all. But I got what I could, and for what
I got, I am supremely grateful.
You meet a few people in life who make a difference. Joe Danno made all the difference.
MO'C, December 2002
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