RIP Bob Borsodi

A few friends have probably heard me talk about Borsodi's Coffeehouse in New Orleans. When I was in college, I was introduced to Borsodi's, I think by my then-girlfriend Kathleen. It was housed in a nondescript building on Freret Street. It didn't even have a sign out front describing what it was; it could have been a small warehouse, for all you know, if you walked past it.

Inside, though, it was a big ol' bohemian coffee house, like a darkened living room decorated in the 1960s and added to - but never rearranged - ever since. (Heck, for all I knew that's what it was.) Lots of localized lighting, and an eclectic collection of furniture and pillows to sit on. The walls were covered in posters, coins, bills, record album covers, artwork, and just about everything else you can stick to a wall. There were bookshelves with a strange variety of books, a chess board, and a stage on which were held poetry readings and acoustic music performances.

Behind the counter - most of the time - was Bob Borsodi, a soft-spoken middle-aged gentleman who ran the quiet but comfortable establishment. The coffee was good, the snacks were better (I especially remember the meat and cheese boards). The hours - as I recall - were 7 pm to 3 am, and usually closed during the summer when Borsodi and his wife would travel out of the city (and sometimes overseas, I heard).

Borsodi liked his place to be peaceful. I recall one time a friend of a friend came in with something like a dozen people - I think they were a club which had come to the shop after their meeting - and Borsodi quietly but firmly turned them away. He didn't like crowds. I think he preferred having individuals doing their own thing and occasionally interacting with each other. (I played a few chess games and had a few conversations with random people during my time hanging out there.) I like quiet coffee shops, too, and places that have loud music will tend to drive me elsewhere (a problem I have with Cafe Borrone here in California sometimes).

Borsodi's was what turned me on to coffee shops. Ultimately, I'm disappointed that the Seattle rather than the New Orleans style of coffee shop won the commercial market, but the bohemian style takes a lot of effort to set up and maintain, and of course to actually keep clean since it never really looks clean (which is part of its charm). I only found one coffee shop in Madison which had a little of that sort of feel, and as their coffee was awful I rarely went there (unless my usual cafe was packed solid in the middle of winter). My regular cafe in California - the Dana Street Roasting Company - has a bit of that feel and irreverence (plus, of course, free wireless).

Borsodi's also gained me a roommate and friend, Dan Aharon (despite his having been in a class I TA'ed the previous year), as he worked at Borsodi's off-and-on and I ran into him there and mentioned I needed a place for the summer after I graduated. We had a great summer together, and have stayed in contact ever since (including meeting up on our trip to my sister's wedding).

Dan recently sent me a link to an article that Bob Borsodi passed away in December 2003. Apparently, he committed suicide due to the pain of fighting cancer.

This is a tragic loss for New Orleans, and a big bummer for me as I've been hoping to get back to New Orleans sometime and drop in on the coffeehouse (which apparently moved to a new space sometime in the 90s), for old times' sake at least, and more likely for the coffee and food. And of course it's always horrible when a place and person you remember fondly suddenly goes away. I didn't really know Bob Borsodi and was never involved in his artistic endeavors, but I truly appreciated his establishment and how much of himself he put into it.

Though cities like San Francisco and Santa Cruz may have places like Borsodi's (more likely there than out here in the 'burbs), it will never truly be duplicated. This I know.

Good times were had, and good memories were made. And that's a pretty good epitaph for anything.