|Red Goose Saloon
306 Houston St, FW. 817-332-4343.
609 Houston St, FW. 817-332-4747.
A D V E R T I S E M E N T
A D V E R T I S E M E N T
In Sundance Square, the good olí Red Goose Saloon is one of the last bastions of crazy nightlife ó two floors of cheap drinks, loud dance music, loose women (OK, maybe just a hopeful assumption on my part), and cheeseball guys. The service is also great. Barkeeps Priscilla and Henry are two of the best in town.
Simply, the Goose ó as itís affectionately known ó is charming in a Sunset Strip-ish Whiskey Bar-ish kinda way.
As crazy as the Goose gets, itís rarely the site of trouble, probably due to the heavy police presence both outside and inside the club. Most of the time, the cops are stern but respectful. Last week, however, was a different story: They werenít only downright disrespectful but stern to the point of being intimidating.
At about quarter ítil closing time, the club turned on the house lights, and Goose staffers began collecting everyoneís drinks. At this point, the cops on duty in the upstairs dance parlor usually just stay out of the way. Not this time. One large, ornery policeman strutted through the place while twirling a pair of handcuffs around his index finger. He bowed his chest and scowled at anyone who dared pass him by.
This type of behavior from the fuzz ainít too cool, especially in a club, but the ítude probably had something to do with one of two things: the recent shooting death of Officer Hank Nava or a visit earlier in the night from a major sports celebrity, pro golfer Tiger Woods.
In town doing God knows what, Woods danced like a white boy, was surrounded by supermodel-caliber babeage, and was guarded by what seemed like half of the Fort Worth Police Department.
Donít mistake me for one of those hyper-paranoid, reflexively anti-authority nut jobs: Iím no felon, so I donít mind extra blue protection here and there. But I do think that we all deserve to be treated with more respect by law enforcement than what was afforded me and my fellow Red Goose patrons last week.
As Iíve already said, Goose partiers are almost always well-behaved. There may be no better way to piss them off than by sending in a giant clown of a cop to intimidate them.
Red on Black
Paddy Redís hasnít been in its downtown spot on Houston Street for long, but the Irish-themed pub is already planning to relocate to the Throckmorton Street address occupied for the moment by the Black Dog Tavern. (Tad Gaitherís East Village-esque hang-out is moving to Crockett Street near the Cultural District, in the area by Fredís Cafť where several other clubs are also scheduled to open soon.)
Mark Helms, Paddy Redís co-owner with wife Angie, wants to clean the place up a lot and turn it back into something close to what it was pre-Black Dog, the Blarney Stone. But, Mark said, ďItís gonna need a lot of work.Ē
Paddy Redís current lease is up in mid-January. Not too long ago, when the Helmses began to consider renewing, they heard that their landlord was thinking about selling the building to someone who wanted to triple the rent. Mark and Angie didnít want to stick around to see if the word on the street was true.
Landlord Matt McEntire, who also owns the Shamrock Pub and Rick Oí Sheaís (and used to run the Blarney Stone), said heís received more than 140 calls on the current Paddy Redís location. ďItís a great space,Ē McEntire said. ďIíve been getting so many calls, itís almost hard to keep up.Ē
Mark is hoping to open Paddy Redís at the new address by March 1. ďThatís a hope,Ē he said. ďBecause, like I said, we got a lot of work to do down there.Ē
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