A Return to Normalcy Through Malt Therapy

By Edward M. Bury, APR, MA (aka The PRDude)

As evidenced by increased vehicular traffic, lines outside some restaurants, and actual fans in the stands at baseball games, the world — at least my world here in Chicago — is gradually returning to some semblance of normalcy. Even the Paleta Man is back, hawking those delicious frozen treats from his pushcart.

Driven by widespread vaccinations and perhaps a greater adherence to CDC protocols, life is almost back to what it once was, meaning we can resume many of the activities halted or restricted over the past year-plus.

For me, the return to the way things used to be included engaging in regular malt therapy sessions, or to the uninitiated, sitting on a bar stool, hoisting a few pints of beer, engaging in conversation with anyone who will listen, and just disengaging from anything that causes stress or strife. 

Rest assured, enjoying those cold ones away from home for a couple of hours does make a difference from a therapeutic perspective.

My venue of choice for this weekly endeavor has been Small Bar, the neighborhood Avondale corner joint referenced in this post from a year ago. In fact, it’s been my Sunday afternoon malt therapy destination for pretty much the past two decades.

I got my opportunity this past Sunday to rekindle malt therapy at Small Bar, which has been closed since October.  Yes, over the past few Sundays I did venture to other area establishments — the Revolution Brewery and Tap Room  on Kedzie, Reed’s Local on Belmont, and The Old Plank on my favorite street in the world, Milwaukee Avenue.  All fine establishments, to be sure, all with their own charm and atmosphere, and most importantly, all serving beer.

But it was the re-opening of Small Bar that rechristened the malt therapy I need to begin easing back to a place in life that’s somewhat predictable, honest and simple.  Upon my arrival shortly after 3 p.m., the bar was relatively empty and to my satisfaction, the window seat — my favorite seat — was open. 

Plus, the Cubs game was on TV! They got crushed by the Brewers, giving up five runs in the 9th, but I didn’t care. Small Bar was open again. Malt therapy resumed. And, another step was taken forward following too many months of uncertainty.

As more patrons ventured into this classic, humble venue, a tavern that has served the neighborhood faithfully through the generations, I smiled, then ordered another beer.

My first choice was the Stiegl Pils. Argh, the key was empty. So, I opted for an Alagash White, a fine a traditional Belgian-style witbier. Yes, I had more than one.

Normally, Small Bar has a dozen or so beers on tap. The offerings now should satisfy just about any serious beer drinker.

From my seat by the window, I take in the small gathering of fellow patrons Jake and Phil, with Dixie behind the bar. By the time I departed at 5 p.m., many of the seats and tables were filled, and the outdoor patio was buzzing.

Knowing When to Keep Your Comments to Yourself

By Edward M. Bury, APR, MA (aka The PRDude)

One of the most storied quotes of Western civilization was attributed to an 18th Century French writer named François-Marie Arouet, better known as Voltaire.

It’s shown in the image posted here, and it certainly embodies the concept of free speech, a concept noted in the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. 

Clearly, Mr. Voltaire would not be a fan of the so-called “cancel culture” prevalent these days.

My first encounter with these provocative words  was back in the late 1970s upon entering the lobby of the 435 N. Michigan Av. building in Chicago — better known as the Tribune Tower and once housing the newsroom, business offices and printing presses for the metropolitan daily that bears its name.  There, Voltaire’s words were carved into the marble wall above an entrance way in the grand lobby, in view for all who pass through the storied bastion of journalism.

As a free-thinker and ardent supporter of free speech, I certainly adhere to the foundation behind the Frenchman’s commentary. But as a modern communications professional, I’ve learned sometimes it’s best to keep some comments to yourself.

A case in point: Last week, we enlisted the services of a local upholstery cleaning firm to bring our sofa and love seat back to like-new looking condition. The Upholstery Guy, who resembled Jimmy Buffett, maintained a professional, yet casual attitude during his visit.  As he loaded his cleaning machine, solutions, tubing and other gear into our home that morning, he inquired about my line of work.

“I’m in public relations and communications now, but started out in journalism, as a reporter here in Chicago,” I remarked. “But that was many years ago.”

Learning of my former profession led him on a subtle, but passionate diatribe regarding an April 4 segment of 60 Minutes that questioned whether wealthy Floridians and non-residents received COVID-19 vaccinations over residents living in poor and rural parts of the state.  The Upholstery Guy believed the reporting was unfair and biased against Governor Ron DeSantis, who he said has done a phenomenal job in managing vaccination of residents of the Sunshine State.  For the record, media outlets have reported on this story well before 60 Minutes, including a February 17 NPR report.

Sensing a potential heated and uncomfortable political back-and-forth, I just let Upholstery Guy’s comments pass without a response.  Yes, he has a right to his opinion. But I maintain it’s not wise to share political, religious or other sensitive beliefs with a customer — especially at 7:30 a.m. 

Similarly, while fishing several years ago with a friend up in Northern Wisconsin, the guide we hired one afternoon shared repeated criticism and calloused remarks about Democrats. And, while on my getaway to Galena, Illinois last November, the owner of the bed-and-breakfast where I stayed somewhat boldly declared: “I hate Chicago.”

Again, to get this on the record: I have voted Democratic most of my life, and I have lived in Chicago most of my life. I will defend Upholstery Guy, the Wisconsin Guide and the Galena Gentleman’s right to their respective opinions — although not to the death.  (Sorry, Voltaire.)

But from a dollars and cents perspective, I would not hire Upholstery Guy again, Wisconsin Guide got a smaller tip, and we’ll seek other accommodations the next time Galena is on the travel agenda.  Yes, our furniture looks great, my buddy and I caught lots of crappie, and I thoroughly enjoyed the three nights last fall in the historic home.

All three experiences would have been better minus the pointed rhetoric.