Kiersten Puusemp walked into Mr. T's Bowl in Highland Park on a rollicking Saturday night and, as the bar's most ardent fans might expect, fell instantly in love.
She came through the main entrance, which is the back door. She took in the ratty, faded carpeting. The perfectly tacky holiday decorations. The eight unused bowling lanes. The framed photographs of "Mr. Joe T" greeting patrons and pouring drinks. She breathed in the scent: a cozy muskiness that's been cooking in the windowless space for about 60 years.
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Tuesday January 25, 2005 Home Edition Main News Part A Page 2 National Desk 0 inches; 25 words Type of Material: Correction
Mr. T's Bowl -- An article in Monday's Section A about Mr. T's Bowl misspelled Fuzzyland music event promoter Jac Zinder's last name as Zindler.
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Wednesday February 02, 2005 Home Edition Main News Part A Page 2 National Desk 0 inches; 33 words Type of Material: Correction
Mr. T's Bowl -- A Jan. 24 article in Section A about Mr. T's Bowl in Highland Park said that owner Joseph "Mr. T" Teresa died in 2004. He died in June 2003.
"I have never been here before," said the 31-year-old artist from Altadena, squeezing up to the bar and hollering above the thrashing sounds of a band called the Mormons.
"I came in and said, 'This place is rad.' And then I'm like, 'Am I one of the ones who's ruining it?'"
Puusemp smiled ruefully at her Budweiser. "That's the dilemma."
It's the classic conundrum for the Los Angeles seeker of cool: gleefully discovering authenticity in a city notorious for veneer and contrived environments, then fretting over whether your very presence compromises it.
The predicament is becoming commonplace in Highland Park. "Cool" is coming to Northeast L.A.
Other old-school bars in the working- and middle-class district are relighting their retro signs, hiring doormen and installing modern mood lighting: Footsie's, The Chalet, the Cave. Last year, North Figueroa Street welcomed an artsy coffee shop called Mudpuppy. It's doing good business selling loose-leaf teas and homemade muffins.
Rental and property prices are rising. Younger artists, musicians and first-time home buyers priced out of Silver Lake and Echo Park are moving east, potentially bringing with them those neighborhoods' pretensions of cool.
Despite all the change happening outside, the scene inside Mr. T's Bowl repeats itself day after day. A cast of older regulars gets there around lunchtime during the week and sometimes before breakfast on weekends. There's no natural light, but they generally know when it's time to leave.
That's 9 p.m. or so, when the live music starts and twentysomethings with messy hair and Chuck Taylor sneakers roll in.
"There's no problem," said semiretired Bob, 68, who, like many of the others at Mr. T's, prefers to go by one name. "The older people drift out when the kids come in."
It's a formula that's been working so well, the rockers who've found success playing there admit they're a little worried.
