When The Ministry Of Information first opened, Northern Liberties still had that wonderful Wild West feel, where anything could happen and often did. And while the seeds of gentrification had already been sewn (we credit the 700 with that, way back in ‘97), the Minfo, as it was affectionately known, was something different: It was a moment. And what a moment it was. For one, no one could ever understand why anyone would change the name from W&J (the site’s previous incarnation) to some weird Terry Gilliam reference. For a while back there, there were even people who simply refused to call the bar anything other than “The W&J,” a kind of I-was-there-first bragging rights that NoLibs used to engender. (These days, it’s more like “I-left-NoLibs-first” bragging rights that are de rigeur, but that’s another story.) With all that being said, there was a time when the Ministry was literally and figuratively the hottest bar in the city. We packed in there like sardines. We tolerated the utterly awful jukebox. We smelled the smells, and sweated like pigs. They let our bands practice in the basement. We got shitfaced drunk there at least twice a week. Sometimes, we’d even wander upstairs, where they never did quite manage to tear down all those old rooms that used to be a sailor’s hotel back in the day. And then, the moment passed. Other bars opened. Some people moved to Fishtown. Some disappeared altogether. But to the loyal Minfo folks, not much ever changed; theirs was a devotion only booze and a favorite bartender could inspire. And when we got word that the place was sold to the Trago’s folks, earmarked to be turned into a French bistro, we got lost in a reverie of sorts. Ministry Of Information, we hope we meet again one day. In fact, we’ll be over later this week. You’re a sweet ol’ bitch, and you ain’t dead quite yet, yo.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 24th, 2007 at 10:27 am.