By Rawlins Gilliland, KERA 90.1 commentator
http://stream.publicbroadcasting.net/production/mp3/kera/local-kera-483207.mp3
Commentary: Midnight at Monica's
Dallas, TX –
Throughout our lives, there are turning point moments when we immediately know, "it" will never be the same. Sometimes, it is life-changing; more often, it is subtle, but nonetheless undeniable. Like when a valued neighbor moves away, or your boss retires, your best friends divorce. Our status quo well-being is shaken, and we find ourselves feeling instantly older and quietly vulnerable.
Such was the case when I recently drove to Monica's Aca Y Alla Restaurant in Deep Ellum for the 15 year ritual of Salsa Sunday Night. To my shocked consternation, the lonely valet parker on the all but empty 10 p.m. street informed me that Monica had relocated the live music format to her "new Addison location."
The passing of the Dallas Salsa Sundays Scene at Monica's has more significance than the casual look might suggest. For one, it marks Deep Ellum's all but official passing as an adult reverse-chic hot spot, killed off undoubtedly by the random (and randomly reported) violence of some opportunistic, predatory thugs. Too, despite my knee-jerk personal applause that Dallas joined the likes of L.A. and others with a "let's be grown-ups" no-smoking ordinance, unlike many cities where this became the law, here we have the replicant Restaurant Row Mecca of Addison, waiting to be handed Dallas' bird nest on the underground.
There are only so many fights one can wage before one decides "Let's not be commercial salmon swimming perennially upstream; let's haul our aspic to Addison, charge more, and rake in the money while Dallas loses still more desperately-needed tax base dinero."
Several things went through my mind as I reluctantly headed north to visit Monica's new venue. One, since the earliest 1990's, when it first opened as Eduardo's, Aca Y Alla (here and there) had been in the vanguard of trendy Dallas evolution. Eduardo Greene abruptly disappeared around 1992 and resurfaced months later renamed Monica, and with it, the Deep Ellum namesake restaurant. It was the first sophisticated establishment to be a destination magnet for the Greenwich Village-like eclecticism of the well heeled, the bohemian underground, the corporate swinger, or that silent mysterious stranger. All this against the backdrop of throbbing Latin rhythms, pre-Ricky Martin, spiced with infallible service and clever cuisine. Never has there been a more see-and-be-seen or drop-off-the-radar-and-be-invisible scene.
Anyone with any poet inside of them knows that when we are old, and life is more about the past than future, it is a handful of choice moments that will warm the heart in remembrance. I knew, on given Sundays, what it was to feel immersed in momentary magic; where the spirit was "we are here and now is what matters, not tomorrow which might be threatening, not yesterday that was perhaps disappointing, but now - which is fabulous!"
For the new "now," Monica's Restaurant remains intact but the "scene" is gone to yesterday's north of LBJ farmlands that were plowed into today's strip centers. The cultural collusion of Monica Greene's sensuous dynamic with Addison's soulless clone aura is eerie, like looking for love in Las Vegas. It's there, but proof positive that we're losing more than a moment in Dallas time.
Rawlins Gilliland is a writer from Dallas. If you have opinions or questions about this commentary, call (214) 740-9338 or email us.