i saw coffee breathe
March 10, 2008 – 1:43 am
there’s an intersection somewhere in the urban entrails of cincinnati that urgently needs a french bakery — some crusty baguettes, st. andre cheese and general store items. pipe tobacco. lozenges. opposite, a hulking stone basilica now dominates one corner of this intersection, its blithe amber dome windows confronting a rare Neighborhood Cafe on corner no. 2, and then almost completely overshadowing a turreted three-story brick building on corner no. 3 that will soon be a hotbed of books, coffee and human thoughts, thought aloud and in front of people. it’s corner no. 4, the boarded-up one, that needs staple food. preferably an adaptable selection of proven delights, like beer but for the daytime. then you’d have a place, an urban sanctum.
this junction is where the week o’ feckless spro tripping became very serious, and where i found a posse of people loosely connected to the barista-poet himself on corner no. 3, using coffee like some kind of glorious jumper cable. with it, dormant, isolated people were getting wired together, the bitters and the sweets, the positives and the negatives all put to productive use, the random human dots connected with these stunning, sparking, social arcs.
coffee does this. it casts a glow on human interaction, of course, and sometimes it also makes people boil-brained vassals. the madman, in this case, was a merry, bearded genius named larry bourgeois (!) whose most extraordinary talent seemed to be an ability to tell people what a great time they were having. his secondary qualities included a head-spinning collection of philosophy and theology books, an uncanny sense of just when the children needed plying with large bags of pure chocolate wafers and ownership rights to an espresso machine chorus — a three-group la pavoni lever, a rock-solid elektra deliziosa brownhandle, a la marzocco gs3 fresh out of the box, the ethereal chrome deco elektra micro casa semiautomatica, innumerable prosumer chrome-box models like the andreja premium, the silvia and expobar brewtus and a french press or two that were good for holding stuff.
in such a setting we drank the day away, with a historic blizzard deadening things outside and making us feel like kids crawling around with our toys under a blanket. mr. lewis, of the fresh-minted mountain regional barista title and last week’s pennsylvania keynote address, of course produced his microcosm of delights from the spouts available. shrimp arrived. blends were tested. books pulled you into chairs, and laughing people pried you back up again.
here was a group with an eye for drinking coffee to profound effect, and a ripe city outside their door. more spro flowed — so much of it, actually, that shots became gorgeous, never-drunk beverages that idled on the countertops. our home-brewed kombucha was shotgunned, for our collective cleansing. art appeared on the walls. the snow stopped. nate the finger took his turn, and i seized up my camera. a ridiculously cheery fellow scraped the walks at the church across the way, and the speckled bird cafe opened up, with lighted fish tanks and a thrifty decor.
will i become the complementary fourth corner? i don’t intend to. but then, the net result would be a coffee tour worth taking — for its tangibly mystical qualities. a sacramental experience, not a sanctioned event. we could host a barista jam in the middle of the four-way, for the public, with machines in the road and armchairs on the sidewalks and hard alpine cheese on wide trays and the world watching on the interwebs and big, welcoming lights strung from store to cafe to chapel to flat with a beefy, endless, sparking jumper cable.
…
liquid running
art appeared …
gs3, carrot juice in press pot, stale cappuccino
grace, collected
someday soon, an upright chair, a patio, a garden, some music …
the madman
the madman’s bus
the dishwater, it suffered
across the street, a thaw
I myself spent an evening in the company of the madman just last week in Pittsburgh. He encouraged me to dream more often, and then tell people with money about my dreams (and maybe about any business plans i might have lying about).
He is a good one. He is a help.
I’m glad more like-minded folk are coming together; this is good news for the world at large.
a tried and true method of his, it seems. the thing about this place was the wholeness of the team. the madman had his wingmen, and they balanced each other out like some kind of (obvious metaphor) human blend.
very soon, this corner will be a must-visit.
Indiana is particularly gray today . . .
Sort of like going back to packaged string cheese after a night of 3 year aged gouda.
Or, tucking in at a reclusive farmhouse after a prolonged visit at the third place.
Thank goodness for the left over Microcosm. . . I find it reminiscently soothing to my nostalgia.
Thanks to all for a glimpse of joy.
As usual, your words, images and metaphor have shaped my imagining of an event (and I was there) into a bless’d other-worldly experience. The snow was real; the coffee, profoundly real; and the relational quality of our time almost ethereal – if not so grounded in the reality of that place… the third place… the fourth corner.
It seems the human blend can only become more complex and nuanced, robust and weighty… sweeter.
When I met Larry at the Barista Jam in Easton last week I addressed him thusly:
Me “So what are you, some kind of home Barista or Something?”
Jon Lewis “Oh, this is a good story”
Larry “I started off selling some espresso machines a while back”
He then began to weave his tale, which I am still not sure I understand.
nate: it’s sunny, 65 and downright pleasant here today. but just as bad.
jon: i scanned this post a couple times to make sure i wasn’t unintentionally stealing any lewis phrases … a commentary on the weekend if there can be one. but i hope i didn’t.
phil: classic. just classic. the best word i can find find for the guy is “enabler.” because it’s very, very hard to figure out what specifically he does.
I guess I should come out of the closet and “explain myself”. I am referred to as the madman,and rightly so. I am honored that my experience in the world of espresso and coffeehouse ventures over the past decades can become of value to the amazing passion and talent of the likes of individuals who are part of this blog. Phil’s comment that he is not sure what I “do”. I could say I sell things, like espresso machines,books and such. I could say I create or help people create authentic third places, like neighborhood coffeehouses. I could speak about some big projects like coffeehouse/bookstore/music venues that won awards for best coffee,best espresso, best community center and all that, but that was years ago. The best latte art I do, I do for my wonderful bride of 31 years, in private. I don’t bother trying to compete because I can’t even remember to clean my own steam wand.
Grace and goodness have followed me all the days of my life and I have the good fortune of having been around amazingly creative and courageous humans. This past weekend was an example of a great experience of grace and goodness. Families who know love and abundance of joy came together and celebrated life, and that life included lots of espresso hardware, lots of books, lots of purposeful conversation. The children whose little faces shined with joy and whose little voices called me “bobo” were I must admit, the highlights. The love and hope put into their lives by their parents and friends gave me hope for the future, which certainly can not look good at times… but in their eyes is very good and well.
I will try to become more a part of these kinds of blogs… some very good life is being exchanged and I would be honored to be included in the conversations. I am leaving for Seattle and Vancouver this afternoon with two wonderful friends and we are going to meet up with many wonderful espresso artisans and continue the exchanges. More good exchanges will happen in Cincinnati,and some wonderful new places will be born, where many will experience a deeper life together, where thankfulness and joy like was on the faces of the little ones at 1801 Mills, will abound.
the madman, also known as “bobo” “the walrus” and “templeton” by my little friends and some associates.
So Larry facilitates a joyful life for all, fair enough.
It was a brisk May morning in Chicago. My wife and I offered up our tiny condo as a launch pad for Larry to take on the city that weekend. Larry and I walked across the street to a small coffee and gathering place for the locals, Mo’joe’s. We talked about life, politics, and the need for a “third place”. It was only then that I realized what a unique person the madman really is. I should also note, that he paid for the coffee. Which was huge. Thanks for the wisdom Larry.
ah, madman. i still like “enabler.” do you object?
i hope the fairly descriptive nature of this post doesn’t mask what is essentially unbridled awe at what you’re doing. you will soon get a meager thanks offering in the mail.
it’s great to see your ripple effects in the comments here. chicago too? cool.
Larry a madman? Maybe. Add him to the list of other revolutionary madmen who have changed our world.
As a facilitator of community, I find him to be a great example of someone committed to helping people come to an awareness of what it means to be truly human. Relationship is at our core and his understanding and redevelopment of third places is one of the greatest quests he could give himself to.
A brilliant facilitator, an inspiring enabler, and a compelling example of grace and goodness. I would gladly lay down my sanity to become such a sacramental madman.
it’s a most complimentary term
Absolutely!