This Montreal Bartender Can't Make Cocktails But He's One Hell Of a Storyteller

Welcome back to Last Call, where we visit watering holes around the world to collect life advice from their trusty barkeepers, learning everything from how to get over a broken heart to what drink orders will get you laughed out of their bar.

Grumpy's is one of the last true dive bars in Montreal. Once the stomping ground of Canadian literary heroes like Nick Auf Der Maur and Mordechai Richler, it has evolved into a haunt for musicians, intellectuals, and degenerates alike.

Because Grumpy's is in a basement, you tend to forget what time of day—or year—it is after a few drinks. It's the type of refuge that attracts all kinds of characters who can escape their troubles by simply walking down a few steps and ordering a drink.

And the guy getting all of these characters drunk is Gern f. Vlchek, a bartender and raconteur of the highest order. His past lives as a truck driver, singer, and pig castrator makes for no shortage of tipsy conversation when he works the bar at Grumpy's.

When I arrive at Grumpy's at 4 PM on a Friday, Gern is nursing a fearsome hangover after a night of presiding over the bar's weekly open mic folk jam. He is clutching an opaque red liquid, a giant coffee, and a copy of his new book Turn Right, Turn Left, Repeat, a memoir of his crazy days crisscrossing Canada as the frontman of the now-defunct United Steelworkers of Montreal.

MUNCHIES: Whatcha drinkin' there, Gern? Gern f. Vlchek: Red eye. It's Labatt with Clamato juice. I've been doing this a long time. A little bit of vitamin C. It's a nice mix—two-thirds beer, one-third Clamato. It's a good way to ease your body back—let's be honest here—back into being drunk again.

Are you a heavy drinker? I don't drink much by bartender standards. I really don't. By bartending standards I'm a squeaky clean guy. I don't do "hey, drinks on the house" shots while I work. And I probably serve less shots than most other bartenders. I have my other wily ways.

What do you mean by "wily ways"? Our job is basically to grab you by the ankles and hold you upside down and shake you until you don't have any money left. It is technically our job. Whether you walk out smashing into the walls or walk out sensibly, we get your money either way. But we will leave you $11 for the cab ride home because that will make you more likely to come back.

How did you end up in Montreal? The official story is that I came here on vacation 22 years ago and never went home. I met a girl at a wedding once and she lived here and I came here to visit her. As soon as I got off the Décarie Expressway, within two blocks, I stopped my motorcycle and lit a cigarette and said, "I'm moving here!"

Where were you coming from? I was coming out of Toronto which is so hodgepodge and low-density. In Montreal, there's a unifying sense and architecture, whereas in Toronto, you're looking at civilization fucked up—like, gone wrong. Fake.

When did you start tending bars? My wife Rachel got tired of me coming home and ranting for three hours about my truck driving career. She asked me what I wanted to do and I said "music!"

So bartending allowed you to further your music career? Absolutely. It was all about putting me in proximity with music and artists and having the opportunity to promote myself and other people. It just puts you in proximity to the music scene.

Why did you remain a bartender? Is it your calling? My calling is to be a frontman. My calling is to never shut the fuck up. But it's also really easy to get people's attention when you're holding beer that they want.

Besides being a bartender, a frontman, and a truck driver, what other jobs have you had? I've had a lot jobs. I've had all of the jobs. Building a house, slugging through shit, or castrating pigs. Castrating pigs is really gnarly. It was really gross and weird and strange. I grew up in the country and these were the jobs available. I also picked rocks—imagine a ten-acre dirt field and they yell, "Pick rocks!" Doesn't matter how many you pick up, there's always more rocks. Bartending is the only job where I wake up in the morning and I'm excited. Playing to 1,000 people is cool, but the anticipation before playing a show … not really.

Do you get a lot of cocktail orders? Someone threw this really crazy one at me last week: a gin and a tonic!

So what makes a good bartender? Having your eyes up. Everybody knows how to make drinks better than I do. I suck. I can't remember shit.

Do you make cocktails? Terrible cocktails. And that's if I can remember them. It is not my forte. "Eyes up" is really the biggest thing for me. Watching the subtleties of the room. It's not relying on security, your doorman, or your co-worker. You've got to read the whole room and everybody's got to be comfortable.

Grumpy's is famous for being the stomping grounds for local literary giants like Nick Auf Der Maur and Mordecai Richler in the 80s. That's before my time. What was the vibe back then? It was before my time, too. It ended right before I started here but their pictures hang on the wall like ghosts that look over our shoulders. Back then, this place was more of a den of inequity than it is now. This is where they came to be bad boys. It was their little kingdom, and honestly, if they showed up at my shift, I might have kicked them out. It was pretty wild.

How has it evolved? It's more relaxed now. We're not a trendy martini bar or cocktail lounge. It's just more comfortable. We—the whole crew and close customers—have cultivated a place where there is live music. We get profs from Concordia and McGill as much as we get students from there. We get journalists and writers and lots of poets, too.

So there is still a strong literary streak here? Yes. It's the only reason I got a book deal. Anybody can write a book, but to publish one you have to be a bartender and know a lot of writers who can get your book published. I'm a bartender and thus I know a lot of people. It's an amazing cross-section of the musical and literary guild here. It got slow last night and a few local musicians walked in and we traded stories. That's something that happens a lot here but it's not a scene or a club. Places like that dry up after a while.

What kind of drinks do most people order at Grumpy's? It really is a beer joint. Our stock and trade is beer. Belle Gueule Pilsner is our biggest-selling beer by a pretty large margin.

Any celebrities come to Grumpy's? We're close to the Bell Center but we don't get many stars. We get their crews. I've gotten into it and hammered road crew for Shania Twain or Barbara Streisand, who apparently is amazing to work for because it takes five days to set up her show, which is every roadie's dream—four nights in one city!

What's the weirdest thing that's happened during one of your shifts? I remember one guy in a Youppi [Montreal Expos mascot] costume playing the banjo and joining the jam for like four songs and then just walking out.

Do you plan on retiring any time soon? I plan on doing more writing, more performances, and the new band is coming together. We're gonna be called The Vlcheks. The retirement package for bartending is dying or finding something else to do. But I hope that I can gracefully sidestep out of it. That would be really nice.

Thanks, Gern. You take care of yourself.