The Long Run of Tony DePalma and Y-NOT II

Jacalyn Brennan, Tony DePalma and Germaine Bowers. Photo by Michael Horne.

My connection with the Y-NOT II tavern began in the late 1980s, when the East Pointe neighborhood between E. Ogden Avenue and E. Lyon Street was still a nine-block swath of emptiness  The barren patch stretched from the lake to a little-used freeway stub at N. Jackson Street.

When approached from the south, the only sign of life amidst the desolation was neon, and it read “Y-NOT II”.

Why not? It was then a nice, unremarkable place with a rooming house above and cheap apartments nearby, and still some factory jobs remaining for workers who wanted to spend their non-working hours drinking downstairs, maybe while their work clothes were spinning in the dryer of the laundromat next door. You could tell from a block away that there was a person behind this joint. Probably a personality as well.

That’s what you got once you entered the joint and met Anthony F. “Tony” DePalma, the proprietor, who opened this place in 1971. Tony, as he was universally known, was born in Milwaukee in November, 1939, and grew up on N. Booth Street, merely one viaduct and two blocks north of the tavern at 706 E. Lyon St. that he was to guide almost up to his death on May 20th at 86.

The genial second generation tavern keeper of Sicilian heritage had a neat, waxed mustache that contrasted with his wild head of hair. He was quick to laugh, and not slow to upbraid the staff when they did not do things his way.

There was a list of these, though some were subject to change or amendment on a whim. At the top of the list, and never subject to modification, was his edict, posted in the bar, “Foam is Beer. Beer is Money.”

You get the message? Don’t dump the foam, let it settle. The customer will wait and I won’t have you pouring my money down the drain! Capiche?

Wine goes bad quickly. We’ll sell it in single-serve bottles.

Then there is the matter of shots. Alcohol is prone to evaporation, either by angels or devilish bartenders who splatter precious spirits on the bar top. Tony’s solution: sell airplane bottles. The bartender cracks the seals, and the customer pours his setup. “There is two shots in these,” he’d tell customers. And an easy way to track inventory. Bases are all covered. It’s down to business.

For Decades Was Sole Proprietorship

About ten years ago Tony told me he figured he was the longest-holding Class B Tavern License operator in the city. There were many bars in the city that had been in business longer, of course. But they had all changed hands, or were incorporated entities. Not Tony! His was a sole proprietorship, which was practically unheard of in the high-risk tavern industry. But that was Tony’s way of doing business, and there was quite a ritual behind the operation of his pocketbook.

Tuesday was business day at the Y-Not II.  Tony would arrive from his apartment adjoining the tavern, large checkbook in hand. Germaine Bowers would bring him a coffee from Coffetails, the Y-NOT II adjunct on N. Van Buren St. that opens at 6 a.m. daily. (Tony’s businesses operate every single hour permitted by law. That’s another of his rules.)

Around 10 a.m. or so the wholesalers would make their rounds. The beer folks dress casually, usually with a couple of sample bottles, or to pitch a new (although perhaps slightly out-of-date) beer for the draft line. (“Seasonal Beers!” the sign reads, “Last Season’s.”) Then come the wine folks. They are a little tweedy: you might even spot a pair of leather elbow patches. Later come the liquor wholesalers, generally slick, well groomed and oft well-perfumed. After negotiations, Tony pulls out their invoices from a file, writes a corresponding check for the full amount due and sends them on their way. Tomorrow is another day.

Wednesday is Card Day

Tomorrow is Wednesday. That’s when the guys come in to play cards. They carry containers jingling with coins for a casual afternoon of low stakes gambling and lots of kibbitzing as they sit at the large round table nearest the bar, and closest to the door of Tony’s apartment. After a suitable amount of amusement, Tony disappears into the apartment kitchen and reappears with a delicious spread for his cronies, and for anybody else who happens to be around. He had a way with Italian beef sandwiches on Sciortino rolls, cheesy potatoes, pasta salads and other Wisconsin treats. Occasionally a huge grill would be hauled out from one of the tavern’s three basements for a corn roast or chicken feast. You’d also know what to expect during halftime at Packers games.

“It’s Always Been a Lesbian Bar”

By 1994 the East Pointe apartments and condominiums began filling up the land across the street, bringing with it retail development. The freeway spur to the west was replaced with a boulevard. The neighborhood density — and income — increased, while the population grew younger. The Y-Not II was particularly well-suited for the changes, except for the ones Tony would not permit.

“Are you going to have ferns now that the yuppies are moving in across the street? I asked him in 1994 when yuppies began moving in across the street.

“This will not be a fern bar,” Tony stated adamantly, remaining true to his word to his death. Still the Y-Not II managed to draw a remarkably diverse crowd. It was popular with members of the ballet, and was especially popular with African American couples of a certain age who wanted to head out for a couple of hours in a mellow atmosphere. There were a number of women couples who were regulars as well. “It’s always been a Lesbian bar,” Tony once told me proudly.

Was a Man of Culture

Tony loved the Standard Poodle breed. There was Ralph — short for Rafael, the High Renaissance painter. Then there was Remy — short for Rembrandt. His apartment office was decorated with neon sculptures, many of which he commissioned, and the occasional fine art prints. He had admired the originals on his visits to Europe’s great museums. Years ago I had a pair of tickets to see Nessun Dorma at the Skylight Opera Theater. I chose Tony as my date, and we had a lovely evening. Tony’s television viewing habits varied, there was usually something on while he did his books at his desk. Sometimes he would be engrossed in a documentary, other times he would watch a Hallmark movie.

Sometimes he was up to a performance, with himself as a star. At one time, Tony’s vehicle was an ancient, well-beaten Cadillac limousine. A gay couple from Florida was soon to arrive at the train depot for an annual visit with a regular customer. Tony slapped a beret on his head, some signs announcing the limousine’s arrival were displayed at the station, and quite a scene played out as the procession made its way to the friendly neighborhood bar on Lyon Street.

Steady Customers; Devoted Staff

Whatever the peculiar alchemy of Tony’s magic of turning beer into gold, there was also his inspired management of his staff. There was something about his personal investment in the business that drew an exceptionally devoted staff to his bar. Anybody in the business will tell you that staff turnover is their number one headache. Tony was virtually immune from that problem. His bartenders remained for years, moving on only when they opened their new spots, or finally completed their graduate degree — or started drawing their Social Security checks. Behind-the-scenes workers, like the cleaning staff, stockers, laundry helpers and others also remained devoted to Tony and the home they found there.

Will Remain in Family

Tony is survived by his two children, whom I have known since they were teenagers. Son Nick DePalma, 49, formerly owned Nick’s House, a tavern on the East Side, since demolished. Today he is a real estate assessor for a number of communities, including the Village of River Hills. Daughter Monica, 47, owns Monica’s on Astor, a subterranean tavern in a pre-Civil War building in Yankee Hill.

Monica DePalma is today the registered agent for the Y-NOT II, holding 80% of the stock of Y-NOT II LLC, which was organized in December 2019 as part of the family succession plan. Nick DePalma owns the remaining 20% of the business, which carries on as it ever did, led by the spirit of the founder, which remains in place and on display every possible minute of every drinking day.

Photos

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