Reporting a story about the Hub's 60th anniversary isn't an easy proposition, even if you can survive the smoke.
The bar owner refuses to have his picture taken. At least one customer won't give his name for fear his three ex-wives will track him down. The homeless patrons are incoherent and generally unreliable.
It's an imperfect place full of imperfect people, just like the rest of the world. Maybe that's why it's been around for 60 years. And probably why it'll endure for another 60.
• • •
The Hub opened in 1949 at 701 N Florida Ave. in downtown Tampa, making it one of the area's oldest bars. In 1956, Pasquale Deyorio bought it from the original owner, Pio Guerra Jr., and ran it for decades. It was Deyorio's vision — to "give people a good drink at a good price'' — that created the Hub's reputation for strong drinks.
The Hub stayed in Deyorio's family until 2008, when Ferrell "Skooter'' Melton, a longtime friend, bought it. Melton started mopping floors at the Hub 21 years ago and later became a bartender.
"I wanted to keep it going in the same direction it had always been going,'' Melton said. "When an outsider comes in, you never know what'll happen.''
Back in the day, the Hub opened at 8 a.m., often to a throng of people congregated outside from the nearby Floridan Hotel and Methodist Place retirement home. Later, as regulars died off and the hotel closed, the opening time changed to 10 a.m., and 1 p.m. on Sundays. Both the bar and package store close at 3 a.m. daily.
Seven years ago, the Hub did the unthinkable and moved a few blocks away to the corner of Franklin and Polk streets. Devotees pulled stake reluctantly. Melton said plenty good came out of it. The new Hub can hold bigger crowds (137, if the fire marshal's watching), has space for live music and more storage room in back.
The new location has a few noteworthy remnants from the past: the original linoleum bar and one matching table; the CD jukebox; and a section of graffiti'd wall taken from the old bathroom.
The Hub still takes cash only. Every inch of the place still reeks of smoke. "We keep it a little dirty for the ambiance,'' Melton says with a smile.
• • •
People-wise, the Hub still has Jeannie Robinson, the daytime bartender. She's been a fixture for 22 years, longer than anyone else on the staff. Over the years, she's seen most of Tampa trudge through, from lawyers working the courthouse to homeless people pushing grocery carts.
Robinson screams when Billy Idol's Rebel Yell comes on the jukebox for the millionth time. She knows in her sleep the price of a half-pint of McCormick whiskey, gin or vodka: $3.16, including tax. She's likely sold more cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon ($2 for a tall boy; $1.50 for a short) than any bartender in Tampa. She makes a mean Bloody Mary.
The feisty grandma with deep red hair treats customers like family but isn't afraid to use brute force to boot misbehavers. She once kicked a guy named Mad Dog three feet into the air. Don't ask what she did to the guy who called her the C-word.
The Hub caters to downtown workers and locals adverse to anything pretentious. It's been known to attract employees playing hooky and judges and politicians acting incognito. On a recent visit, one woman begged a photographer not to take her picture because she had called in sick to work that day.
"You get all kinds of humanity in here,'' said Kelley Primo, a three-year bartender. "You get the bum who tips you $1 on a $1.50 Pabst Blue Ribbon and you get the corporate guy who buys five drinks and tips you 75 cents.''
• • •
Like most bars, the Hub hasn't been immune to the tanked economy. Late-night business from restaurant and bar workers has declined, and fewer people are going out.
Still, the Hub survives. The addition of live music has helped draw new customers. So has the addition of the nearby SkyPoint and Element residential towers. Departing cruise ship passengers stock up at the package store, the only one downtown.
The Hub continues to welcome college kids from the University of Tampa but doesn't reach out to them because only a fraction of them are of legal drinking age, Melton said. He also doesn't frown upon the homeless, who he prefers to call the "forgotten men.''
The Hub celebrates its 60 anniversary on Sunday with food, drink specials and live music from Here B4. In typical Hub fashion, the details are still being worked out just a few days prior.
Looking ahead, Melton doesn't see a whole lot beyond what's there today. He's got a long-term lease and isn't too worried about getting evicted.
"Would you want to be the one going around saying, 'I'm the one who closed the Hub?''' he asks.
Didn't think so.
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