Lucid Beaming

Bert’s Bar held a final blowout on Friday night to celebrate 30 years of good times and old friends. Hundreds of people showed up to bid farewell to the legendary Sullivan’s Island watering hole. Locals and wellwishers paraded through downtown from the bar to the Firehouse, escorted by a brass band and hoisting a coffin to memorialize an old friend. Below are some photos I got that night.

From Music Editor T. Ballard Lesemann:

Bert’s Bar (a.k.a. Bert’s Island Characters) epitomized the Lowcountry beach bum hangout. No frills, cold beer, greasy grub, sandy floors, and colorful local characters with strong geechee accents. It was an institution in its own shabby way, a beachfront watering hole for many year-round regulars and seasonal visitors. After 23 years in business, it’s sad to hear about the Sullivan’s Island bar’s closing last week. Bar owner Tim Runyan blames a forthcoming step hike in the rent, the recent smoking ban, and the influx of wealthy immigrants to the Sullivan’s for the bar’s recent problems. With live blues, bluegrass, and rock music throughout the week and a low-key grill menu, Bert’s was the antidote to the more yuppified bars on the same block (Poe’s Tavern and Off The Hook, in particular). In my recent years back in Charleston, it was fun occasionally stroll right past those hotspots and into Bert’s for a cold beer and surly chat with a bartender or regular. It was easy to chat in Bert’s. There were few distractions, few attitude problems, and plenty of local color. The place will be missed.

From staff writer Stratton Lawrence :

Bert’s was one of the few reasons I had to travel east of the Cooper. On an island of million dollar Cadillacs, Bert’s was the old VW with the pop-top. I was never a local or a regular, but I enjoyed the aura of a place that certainly catered to its own family. As a music venue, the small stage and cramped dance floor lent itself to more collaborations and special guests than any other performance space in Charleston. Sullivan’s Island has lost more than a piece of its soul — it may have to survive on just a pulse (and Yankee dollars) from here on out. I worry that Bunky Odom will now only make rare appearances away from his RadioFreeCharleston listening room, and am collecting donations of Pabst Blue Ribbon to tide him through these trying days.