THEN AND NOW

Photo courtesy of Massa’s Tavern

LAST CALL for Massa’s Tavern

Regulars and relatives say good-bye to a beloved bar

By Tara Ryazansky

Massa’s Tavern is a small bar. You might pass by without noticing it. But it holds a lot of Bayonne history. Now, the owners, bartenders, and regulars get ready to say goodbye.

“It’s too bad that Bayonne is losing the corner bars,” says bartender Mike Lisk, a cousin of the owner. “I’ve heard people throw out numbers, like at one time Bayonne had maybe a 100 corner bars. I can’t really vouch for that number, but they are dwindling. Massa’s is a major casualty. The customers will talk about other bars. They’ll sort of share the lore.”

The lore of Massa’s starts just after the end of Prohibition. “In 1934 my great grandfather, Joe Massa, applied for the liquor license,” says John DeCesare who owns the bar with his wife Erin. “He happened to be second in line that day, so he got the second license. We still have that. I’ve been told that we’re the oldest continually family-owned business in Bayonne,”

Erin says, “They used to have all these ordinances about women being in the bar, so they would sit downstairs. The backroom downstairs, which is a storeroom now, was where the women had to drink. They had to ring a bell to have the drinks brought to them. There’s so much history here.”

No Food, No Frills

The building is older than the bar, which was once a candy store. John’s family purchased it around 1908 when they first immigrated to the United States from Northern Italy. It’s been updated over the years and is currently for sale.

“It’s been hard for us to walk away from it,” John says. “We were closed for eight months because of COVID. My mother is aging and needs more care. It just seems like the right time for so many reasons. It’s hard to be the person to step away from it because it has been here for so long. When I walk in here, even after being away for a long time, it just seems like it’s timeless. No matter what goes on out there you still have the same crowd of guys in here just having a drink. It’s a blue-collar bar, all locals.”

“There’s nothing like it anymore,” Erin adds. “That’s why it’s such a loss that we are closing. It’s no frills, no food, just good friends coming in to drink. It’s like being at home in your living room. Everyone knows each other. It’s just such a wonderful vibe and such camaraderie. There’s loyalty. People have been coming for years and decades and decades.”

“I’m not planning on selling the liquor license,” she says. “That’s not part of the sale. My dream and my goal is to bring it back at some point.”

Massa's Tavern

Courtesy of Massa's Tavern

Mass's Tavern

Daniel Israel

Uncle John

Before Erin and John took ownership of the bar, it belonged to his father, John DeCesare, Sr.

“My uncle, this was his life, Massa’s Tavern,” Mike says. “He was a sort of larger-than-life person. It was almost like my uncle was on a stage when he was behind the bar.”

Bartender Tommy Walsh agrees. “When he bartended, it was like a show. He could get that place yelling and laughing. It was always entertaining, and he knew it. He relished every minute of it.”

“People really loved him and his personality,” Mike adds. “My personality isn’t quite suited for bartending compared to him. He was very gregarious, and he would sort of reel you in as soon as you went into the bar. I’m more reserved. It takes me awhile to warm up to people.” Local Celeb

Mike is also known as “AP Mike” on The Best Show with Tom Sharpling which originated on WFMU. The call-in show, now released independently, boasted guests like Martin Short and Andrew “Dice” Clay.

“Mike made us kind of famous on The Best Show,” Erin says. “He started talking about us and referencing Massa’s on the show.”

“My strategy was to make Massa’s as popular as Carlo’s Bakery in Hoboken from The Cake Boss,” Milke says. “They had lines going down the block.” Though he didn’t’ reach Cake Boss status, “People did come in to visit me if they were in town. I had one of the callers who was from Alabama, and when he flew up here, one of his first stops was Massa’s Tavern. I wish I brought more people in. I’m going to miss it.” This Far from Stardom

“We’ve had brushes with fame,” Erin says, noting that a Chuck Wepner movie scouted the bar for a potential location. “We wound up being too small to even fit their equipment.”

But what Massa’s lacks in size, it makes up for in memories.

“Tommy is the heart and soul of Massa’s.” Erin says. Tommy, who lives upstairs, is quick to assign that tribute to John, Sr.

“The first time I walked into Massa’s, I was young,” Tommy recalls. “It was all old Italian men, and they looked at me like, ‘Who the hell is this young kid?’ I went in there with a friend of mine. We came in one night after work, and I just fell in love with the place right there. They used to sell food at the time. They had strips hanging from the ceiling that used to catch flies. This guy ordered a cheeseburger and French fries. No sooner than he had the plate of French fries put on the bar, that paper sticky strip fell from the ceiling right into the French fries. The guy without missing a beat, pushed his glasses up his nose and yells down to the kitchen, ‘Hey Marie, I said French fries not French flies!’ The whole place went nuts. I went, I love this place, and I’ve been going there ever since. That had to be 1978.”

Tommy went from regular to bartender.

“I had to throw a guy out once because he was bothering two of my patrons,” Tommy recalls. “He left, no trouble, and I went about doing my business. I’d say around ten minutes later he comes back and he sits down at the bar like nothing ever happened. I said, ‘Didn’t I just throw you out of here, pal?’ and he says, “Oh, was that today?’”—BLP