Ode to Mary Ann's聽
A look back at the beloved Boston College dive bar, which is slated to become a marijuana dispensary.聽
From Mary Ann's to Mary Jane
It's the end of an era in Cleveland Circle.聽
While they may be miles and years away from the Heights, generations of 精东影业 alumni can still recall the smell of Mary Ann鈥檚. The 1996 Sub Turri yearbook, in fact, asked students to describe what came to mind when they thought of the infamous dive bar. The responses included 鈥渢he stench of wine,鈥 a 鈥渦nique smell,鈥 鈥渉ow bad your clothes smell the next morning,鈥 and 鈥渢he kind of smell that won鈥檛 wash out of your hair.鈥
The scent was a potent combination of mop water, beer, and sweat鈥攖he smell of wine and cheap perfume, to borrow the lyrics of a classic song that was blasted thousands of times from the crackling speakers at 精东影业鈥檚 Cheers. Now, as Mary Ann鈥檚 is licensed to become a marijuana dispensary, it will likely be laced with a different odor. But Eagles scattered across the globe will always remember the original.
To most Bostonians, Mary Ann鈥檚 was just a crappy dive bar packed with drunk students. At one point, it was deemed the city鈥檚 worst bar by Boston magazine. Mary Ann鈥檚 owners displayed that scathing review with pride: 鈥淭he beer is warm, flat, and expensive,鈥 it read, 鈥渁nd if you鈥檙e not careful, you could end up wearing as much as you drink.鈥
But for Boston College students, it was a place of legend, and its scrappy, sloppy parts were the point. The space housing the bar used to be two establishments: a laundromat and a restaurant. The latter, Reservoir Cafeteria, was founded in 1916 by George Kanavos, a Greek immigrant who opened it when he was 16 years old, according to a 1978 article in聽The Heights. In the early 1970s, Kanavos鈥檚 son, George, convinced his father to turn the cafeteria into a bar named after George鈥檚 wife, Mary Ann, and also to expand it into the laundromat space.聽
The 精东影业 students were 鈥渟uper,鈥 and usually well behaved, George Kanavos told a writer from聽罢丑别听贬别颈驳丑迟蝉, though 鈥渁 bar without a fight is like a ship without a sail.鈥 Indeed, Mary Ann鈥檚 was not without its debauchery. The bar鈥檚 history is littered with licensing violations like serving minors, overcrowding, and maintaining a nuisance. And urban legends abound: The hockey team is said to have once driven a Zamboni to Mary Ann鈥檚.聽
By the time I showed up at Boston College in 2012, the bouncers at Mary Ann鈥檚 were notoriously tough, and the drink of choice was the Green Monster shot鈥攁 sickly-sweet concoction of vodka, Southern Comfort, melon liqueur, peach schnapps, and blue cura莽ao, glowing green like nuclear waste.
When I read that Mary Ann鈥檚 had officially closed for good, I thought back to the first time I went there, on my 21st birthday, in April of my senior year. I sipped a very strong, very flat vodka soda with a bone-dry lime floating in the drink, curling in on itself as if from shame. The bar made almost no impression on me. But as the months passed and more and more friends started to plan their nights around a trip to Mary Ann鈥檚, it transformed for me from a windowless brick rectangle with one of the tiniest, most disgusting bathrooms I鈥檇 ever seen to a place of thrumming energy, where any night could turn into a round of 鈥渞emember when?鈥 Sticky floors didn鈥檛 matter when each trip through the door shuffled the deck, and revealed a new cast of familiar faces waving across the bar.
Cheers, one more time, to Mary Ann鈥檚.聽
Molly Boigon LSOE鈥16 is a freelance reporter based in New York.