Dan Herman is an owner and the chief revenue officer of Falling Knife Brewing Co. in northeast Minneapolis.
“I can’t believe [pick a cultural institution that has announced it's closing] is going away. I used to go there all the time!”
“When was the last time you went?”
“Uhh… it’s been a few years.”
I’m not here to lecture you, I promise, but I’ve had that conversation quite a bit recently. As someone who’s spent most of my life working in the service industry, who sells beer and THC to lots of bars and restaurants in the state, and who opened a taproom we’re terribly proud of at Falling Knife, I just want to share my perspective.
It boils down to this: If you’d miss a place after it’s gone—be it a bar or a restaurant, a record store or a vintage shop—the easiest way to keep that place around is to go there, spend money, be kind, and build some new excellent memories. How do you eat an elephant, right? Now imagine what happens if more people are taking that one bite. It has so much power.
Maybe you don’t have a ton of expendable income right now. The dollar doesn’t stretch as far these days for a multitude of reasons, and that’s true for both people and businesses. Rent isn’t dropping, and we’re just waiting for the inevitable skyrocketing aluminum and grain prices to hit the brewery. No proprietor I know expects you to extend beyond your means to keep their establishment alive.
If you can’t find your way to these cultural institutions as you meet up with friends, take your partner out on your monthly (or weekly, if you don’t have kids) date night, or stop in on the way home from your return-to-office job, there are other ways to support them that cost you nothing. Follow their socials and smash the like button on posts that resonate with you before you scroll away. Hype them up on Reddit threads asking for recommendations, or tell your friends about upcoming shows/movies/records. You might not be able to make it, but maybe they can!
Bars and restaurants, boutiques and bodegas, music venues and record shops—they all close for any number of reasons. The corporate steakhouse where I really blossomed in the service industry down in Arizona is closed, while it still has two locations open here in the Twin Cities. Leases aren’t renewed; a neighborhood changes and evolves. Or maybe tastes do, and the establishment is too slow to adapt. Sometimes ownership exposes a side of themselves that’s distasteful or illegal and that shuts the place down, or they simply retire without a succession plan. Sometimes it just happens, and nothing any of us could have done would have changed it. It's not always someone's fault.
Here’s as close as I’ll get to lecturing: If a cultural institution does end up closing, don’t speculate, or at least don’t pry. It’s like asking why someone died (something we still deal with daily at Falling Knife). At best, it’s not helpful, and at worst, it is in bad taste. This is someone’s dream closing down. Once again, be kind. And for fuck’s sake, don’t steal your own memento. That’s some wild entitlement, to think you deserve to snag your own piece of the place.
(You can offer to buy a memento, if it matters to you, or the owners might even give it to you if you ask nicely and explain why it will help keep the place alive in your heart. Erik from the Triple Rock was kind enough to give me the Sumo Wrestlers that lived over the venue bar, and it’s one of my most prized possessions.)
And if you lament a closing enough to comment on it, make sure you give the place a proper send-off and head over there in its final days/weeks/months. There are employees who made the choice to go down with the ship, even as they’re staring down an uncertain future. Let the establishment refill your batteries, restore your joie de vivre, and right some of the wrongs in your world for at least a few hours.
My favorite thing about the service industry is that entrepreneurial and hospitality spirits are indefatigable. Even as places are saying farewell, teams are working tirelessly, whether it’s re-opening Dark Horse or rebuilding after a catastrophic fire like what happened at Pub 819 or Herbivorous Butcher. Italian Eatery is up and running again with new owners. And there’s so much to look forward to: Animales is getting a brick-and-mortar in the coming months, and chef Sean Sherman has announced an Indigenous BBQ joint in the imminent future.
Communities are constantly forming in concert halls, in parks, or across bar stools. How cool is that? All it takes to be a part of it all is showing up and being present. The new King of The Hill reboot will be waiting for you when you get home.
Honestly, we’ve got an embarrassment of riches for places that would be the best in class in other cities. Grab a pastry from Diane’s Place, Black Walnut, or Dahlia; catch shows at Zhora Darling, Turf Club, the White Squirrel, or the 331; order wings at Lat14 or MacKenzie; play pinball at Litt; catch a movie at the Parkway or Trylon or Riverview or Willow Creek; grab an early reservation at the newly James Beard-crowned Myriel or Bucheron; see if that car monkey statue from field trips as a kid is still at the Mia; slurp down some ramen and on-site brewed sake at moto-I; grab a slice at Mario’s, Luce, or Wrecktangle as you suck down a Grape Ape; sit on the patio at Holman’s Table and watch planes take off and land; enjoy an excellent libation served by excellent people at Meteor, Grumpy’s, the Emerald Lounge, or countless other spots; if you're not imbibing, order a 3leche fermented botanical beverage from Marco and crew; take your instruments to Ted over at Vig’s Guitar, or Twin Town, or the Drum Collective; or come catch a Wolves game at Falling Knife. (Some say it’s the best Wolves bar in the Twin Cities.) This list doesn’t even scratch the surface of what we can do here.
The people who open and run these places are rarely wealthy. They’re usually normal people who took a huge leap of faith that they can do something people will enjoy and your support means everything to them. I’m honored every day I get to come to the brewery and see a keg of Verbal Tip or case of Tomm’s head out to an account, or when I see someone sipping a Drippin’ Dream as I meet a friend in the taproom. Thank you, a million times. It gets me through the tough days.
By the way, if you see me out and about, please say hey. I’d love to toast to doing dope shit in cool places. While they’re open.
