A Beautiful Nightmare

So, my first class second cousin Tony texted me the cover photo, courtesy of his professional lifesaving/amateur investigator kid, Chris.

And I don’t know about you, but I’ve never heard of or recovered from quality time spent at a more beautifully titled establishment than Tony’s Nightmare Café. In my Blandino family, we do have our share of Tony(s) (some of ‘em are even fictional.) In this case, the solo proprietor of the back in The Day bar at 6300 S. Broadway in LA was my Uncle Tony. The fictional Uncle Tony is connected, still lives in Palermo, and is always available as a problem solver and attitude adjuster…in my own mind.

Uncle “Tony’s Nightmare” was still going strong when I was young enough to think I had a solid shot at the NBA (single digits of age.) When I was a kid, the business remained a brother’s operation. Charismatic front man Uncle Johnny trained boxers at the Main St. gym, ran for LA City Council, and even had some “extra” parts in the early “Rocky” films. Uncle Joe was kind of a baby-faced, mild mannered enforcer; he stood 5’5” (like all my uncles), was left-handed, and after fair warning, delivered effective left hooks to prizefighters who chose to misbehave inside the Cafe.

The Nightmare served real deal Italian food, provided entertainment (the likes of which included a young Nat “King” Cole,) and attracted local politicians, athletes, and show biz types. Tony’s was the only bar my mom ever visited; her brothers allowed their sisters to hang out, soak up the atmosphere, and even dance occasionally (while never touching a drop.)

My mom saw Dad for the first time at the bar. Dad played baseball with Uncle Joe; on returning to the Nightmare post-ballgame for some recovery time, he was spotted by Mom and it was love at first sight. Within a few minutes, Mom declared she would marry Dad; he never had a chance. Within the year 1936, my parents ran off to exotic Santa Ana and a Justice of the Peace…and the rest is history.

Great Uncle Tony, aka “Uncle,” lived with Great Aunt Kay next door to the Nightmare. Uncle, who had ventured to LA from Sicily with his brother (my grandfather), was loved by all and was everyone’s “uncle.” Uncle was my only source of income during my single digit years; at every weekly family Sunday visit, he’d invariably slip me a buck or two. And Uncle also gifted me the only pet I’ve ever had. Spot may have just been a cute little mutt, but if there were ever a canine Olympics…

Uncle Tony was a business owner/entrepreneur who could also fix any mechanical defect in sight; he shared his gift generously and accepted his 24-7 on call repair duty with a smile.

When I was applying to dental school, Uncle T was curious about my needing a letter of recommendation-I needed all the help I could get. “Want me to ask Kenny to write you a letter?” Kenny was boyhood buddy LA County Supervisor Kenneth Hahn (arguably the most powerful Supervisor in LA history); Kenny’s district included USC.

So, during my interview, I returned fire at the USC Dental School Dean of Admissions after he’d disrespected my dad’s career. Following a brief stare down contest, the dean told me I was still “in.” My “I know” that followed came straight from Kenneth Hahn, courtesy of Uncle Tony.

In his mid-80s, Uncle Tony wound up suffering from dementia; and it was sad seeing that happen to such a loving, smart, tough guy. On one of his last visits to my office, Uncle Tony wondered about me, “What are you doing here?” I showed my uncle the degree, mentioned Kenny, and we were good.

I guess sometimes a text can be powerful. And gratitude can be a wonder drug.

A salute to Tony’s Nightmare Café; the memory of it and the sight of an ancient business card. Who knew a Nightmare could be more like a dream come true that lives on?