Inside Kyoto New Haven Edition

New Haven, Connecticut is a long way from Kyoto, Japan, but it's where I grew up (okay, I grew up in Hamden, next door, but I spent a lot of time in New Haven). Something is wrong with New Haven. There's no getting around it. People in other parts of the United States don't dream of someday moving to New Haven (unless they're 17 years old and applying to Yale University). Still, the city is lovable in its own peculiar way. New Haven is home to several monuments of American culture: Yankee Doodle, one of America's cheapest and coolest breakfast joints, Rudy's bar, which Steely Dan referenced in "Black Cow" (I don't care what anyone else says about it), and the Educated Burgher, where I consumed several hundred gallons of really bad coffee while I planned my escape.

But, real New Havenites will remember cultural monuments that go beyond even these classics. One of America's all-time greatest bars is the dreaded Anchor Bar (also known as The Wanker). In the nicotine-infused banquettes along the walls of the Anchor, we were served bottles of Schaefer beer by Dee - the Platonic form of gravel-voiced-bouffant-hairstyle-wearing-kind-hearted-old-waitress. We once asked Dee her opinion of New Haven. Her comment was terse and to the point: "New Haven sucks!" she said. Here is a fine painting of The Anchor by Connecticut artist Charles Santarpia.



But to get to the real heart of New Haven, it was necessary to take Dixwell Avenue and drive north toward Hamden. Here you would find the Monterey Cafe, the Unique Boutique, Church's Fried Chicken and liquor stores that would serve booze to young whiteboys from Hamden with fake IDs - Lamont's, Reliable Liquors and Basque's Liquor Cabinet. If you really kept your eyes peeled as you made your way past the storefront gospel churches and ads for menthol cigarettes, you'd spot the true epicenter of Old School New Haven Culture: The Disco Laundromat. I snapped a picture of it in 1989. I believe this is the only picture of the Disco Laundromat in existence.



If you took all the funkiness of that stretch of Dixwell Avenue and distilled it down into human form, you'd have the band Blind Justice. This band was a miracle that took place in New Haven in the late 80s and early 90s. During this time of crack wars and interracial strife, Blind Justice brought everyone together. Rocking funk-rap before the Chili Peppers blew up, this band was the best live act I've seen (and that includes Trouble Funk and the Grateful Dead). The lead singer, Kris Keyes, could magnetize a crowd and rock a mic unlike anyone I've ever seen - most New Havenites actually believed he was supernatural. We all assumed that they would go all the way. The fact that they didn't is proof that there is No Justice in the world. Their anthem was the song Checkmate. Check out the 1min 45sec point - note how black folks and white folks were digging it together. Then check out how they hit the groove at 1min 53sec. Another ripping jam was Carry the Load. Check it out when they hit the 2min mark. If you were in New Haven in 1990, you were probably there. And you probably wound up at The Anchor when it was all done.