To Ken Curtin, Rocky Sullivan’s Isn’t a Bar, It’s an Idea

Ken Curtin looks around the room at Rocky Sullivan’s, which includes a photograph of him marching in a parade for indigenous Irish language rights. The sixty-six-year-old former FEMA and Red Cross bigwig explains that Rocky’s “brings together people of an old Irish sensibility so we don’t forget our immigrant roots as well as the liberation struggle with Great Britain today.” If this sounds like the words of a hard-core political ideologue, it should also be noted that Ken is an extremely affable, laid-back, and humble man who, more than anything, really enjoys a few pints of Guinness.

Originally from Queens, Ken has lived in Brooklyn since 1970 (with a four-year stint in the Bronx—full disclosure: my wife’s parents squatted in a building in the Bronx where they met Ken way back then, and they directed me to him). Ken’s three adult children say they grew up in Gowanus, but, as Ken says, “If I’m talking to a real Brooklynite, an old Brooklynite, I call it South Brooklyn.” Ken is a self-proclaimed “pacifist with Irish Republican sentiment.” For forty-two years, he brought clothes and shelter to people after disasters, and Ken proclaims he does not believe in “bombing and shooting” to reach cultural and political goals. How could he when he knows too well the pleasures of drinking and talking at Rocky’s?

Back to his humility, Ken also insists that his adult son, Michael, is “the real regular” at Rocky’s. It was Michael who introduced Ken to the bar. And it’s Michael who takes Irish language lessons here at Rocky’s. “How is it that my son is more interested in Irish culture than I was?” Ken wonders. “I think that’s a victory. It’s a resistance to the notion of falling for what they’re trying to sell you in advertising all the time.” You won’t get that selling-you-something feeling here at Rocky’s: a no-shit bar, sparsely decorated with various Irish flourishes (think Irish flags and Gaelic; do not think shamrocks and leprechauns). Populated by Red Hook neighborhood regulars, union members, a “fabulous array of American leftists,” says Ken, and a “tremendous mix of kids and really old people,” Rocky’s is the kind of place a kind of guy like Ken could instantly fall in love with.

Then there’s that large, framed editorial cartoon on the wall depicting the FDNY, NYPD, and EMS helping in the wake of 9/11 with the simple caption BECAUSE, IT’S WHAT WE DO. Given Ken’s personal, political, and professional leanings, that drawing and phrase feels especially fitting as we enjoy a few pints. I talked with Ken about how Rocky’s is a cultural idea with its live music and radio show broadcast on the Internet for folks in Ireland to hear, his love for Guinness, and how Rocky’s survived in the aftermath of Superstorm Sandy.

I’m amazed by the fact that each Guinness you have is just a bit better than the one you have before.

Rocky’s is not a bar. It’s an idea. It’s an idea of where you can bring together people of this old Irish sensibility. People of all ages. People of all descriptions come.

That picture is our first marching in the Park Slope Saint Patrick’s Day parade. Behind the banner of something we organized in the back room here. Our mission was to promote the understanding of Irish Republicanism here in New York society: Ireland running its own affairs without the help of its big neighbor Great Britain.

My family used to say we spelled Brooklyn: L-O-S-T.

The typical situation in an Irish bar is there’s a bar and a dance floor, and it’s multigenerational. It’s where you go. It’s not age segregated. So here you find people are out for a good time: People who like certain kinds of music. People who are into that cultural Irish or political Irish side. But it’s not only Irish. There is a fabulous array of American leftists that show up here, too. Union organizers, things like that.

We used to come [to Red Hook] for football practice. I used to live in Flushing, [Queens,] so I didn’t know where I was. Back in high school, I’d come out of the subway hole, and I’d have no idea where I was in Brooklyn. I remember getting lost. My family used to say we spelled Brooklyn: L-O-S-T.

You had to be real careful because of broken glass on the field. That’s not good for football players who are falling down all the time. It’s three blocks to the east of here. Even though one year our team won the city championship undefeated with big strong boys, they still got mugged on the way home from practice to the subway. So it was tough then.

They had serious damage [from Hurricane Sandy]. I was sitting at the bar, and the manager told me about a month after that the water was at the height of that wall over there across the street out the window. So that means it was two feet above the bar, which meant that all the furniture in the basement was ruined. All the kitchen equipment was ruined. A lot of work to do. Flood insurance was prohibitively expensive, so this is one of those risks that you live with. When you are a business like this and your culture is about Irish Republicanism, you’re not terribly risk averse.

It was tough then.

If I asked for anything else except Guinness in Rocky’s, they’d have cognitive dissonance. They would say, “Who are you, and what have you done with Ken?”

June 19, 2015

(Photos by Nina Westervelt)