Welcome to bowl of roses
My first trip to the Rose Bowl Tavern was in the early 2000s. At the time, I was immersed in the downtown Champaign rock scene, which had received a lot of attention. The local musicians I followed and called friends were on MTV, touring internationally and pioneers of the Midwest post-punk genre. But across town, in Urbana, the Rose Bowl was sticking true to its title as the home of country music. It was known to be a rough and tough honky tonk, a home bar for bikers and good ol’ boys. A few bands I knew fell on the spectrum of alt-country and managed to book a gig at the Rose Bowl. It was flooded that night with hipster kids who clashed with the regular clientele. As was a perfect storm, some sort of brawl broke out, the bands didn’t finish their sets and we were clearly not wanted back. Honestly, I don’t remember much of the evening but I know it was epic and my friends still speak of it 20 years later. Cricket, as we call him, has lived above the bar since the 80s. I asked him if he remembered it. He laughed. Shook his head. “That was a lot of nights.”
In 2019, Marten Stromberg and Charlie Harris were given the opportunity to take over as the 5th generation of Rose Bowl owners. Not long after, COVID appeared and both the music and bar industries took historic dives. My first shift as a bartender at Rose Bowl was in the spring of 2020. The city of Urbana granted Marten and Charlie use of a parking lot to convert into a patio in an effort to keep the establishment open.
A global pandemic was underway. Our nation was extremely divided under a controversial administration. Unemployment and inflation were soaring. Millions grieved and protested the killing of George Floyd. Our country was sick and tired.
The show that night was Soul on Sunday. A Plus, as he’s affectionately known, opened the set with a Gil Scott Heron song. A vastly diverse crowd cheered and cried as he sang about racial injustice and the wealth gap. I stopped dead in my tracks as tears swelled in my eyes. I was immeasurably humbled. I knew I was witnessing everything art is meant to be. Though I had been a music fanatic as long as I could remember, it had never felt as important as it did that day.
That vibe remained the entire patio season. At a time when several needed a safe space to create, heal, process, relax, let go and just generally deal with the fuckery that was 2020, the Rose Bowl provided. It perfectly emulated a saying used by Jimmy Stewart and Tom Waits: No one brings anything small into this bar.
I am forever documenting the incredible journey my time at the Rose Bowl has been. The bosses asked if I would start sharing it with y’all and so… Welcome to Bowl of Roses. A behind the scenes report, as seen from behind the bar. An inside scoop about the real happenings and what we’re most excited about. Band interviews, venue history, show reviews and staff picks. Oh and I’ll finally start posting all the Rose Bowl QOTD’s I’ve been collecting. Such as “I was ashamed to listen to it. It was that fucking good.” - Steve M or “If you need help kicking people out, we can help. We’re librarians.” Maddie W.
Quite a bit has changed since my first visit here in the ’00s. There’s a Pride flag hanging year round. In the summer, families gather on the patio for dinner. The lineup has evolved and one can see jazz, comedy and bluegrass all in the same day. The home of country and western is now simply the home of live music. However, at its core the Rose Bowl Tavern remains the same: an amazing group of people whose passion for music only rivals their love of their Urbana friends and family. Please join us.
