A Farewell to Uncle Lou’s: The Orlando community’s Cultural Staple Speaks Volumes on the Current Political Climate
by Liam M. Hennessey
ORLANDO, Florida - Uncle Lou’s was a dive bar located in the heart of the Mills Avenue strip. Along with Will’s Pub, it was largely responsible for what made Mills 50 such a cultural institution in Orlando’s music scene. For over two decades, playing a show at Uncle Lou’s was considered a right of passage for bands in the punk scene. It was somewhere where free expression and art could thrive, truly a cultural institution for The City Beautiful.
On May 9, Uncle Lou was arrested during a sting and placed on an immigration hold. He was eventually transferred into ICE custody on May 19. Despite the best efforts from the community banding together in an attempt to save him, ICE holding Lou hostage would result in everyone’s worst fears: the removal of Uncle Lou from his home and the death of a cultural touchstone. As such, it was announced that Uncle Lou’s final night in business would be June 13. I, along with one of our photographers, Kat Baxley, made a point to be there to cover what would be an evening to remember.
Lou’s was overflowing when I arrived, with faces familiar and unfamiliar alike. The weather was disgusting outside that day; the only thing thicker than the remorse in the air was the humidity. Yet there was a subtle chill in the air, as if everyone could feel the pages in this chapter of Orlando culture closing in on us.
The roster was a whopping twenty five bands according to the flyer, and I personally met at least two or three just within the crowds of people who came. With that amount of people trying to squeeze into the building, I often found myself going in and out of there throughout the day. I reminisced with many a friend about the years we spent here and pondered what was to come, but the remark that stuck with me the most came from Kat, when I asked her what she thought would become of Uncle Lou's: “Something not as cool.”
In between the madness of such a large setlist, there was an auction where one could be fortunate enough to bring home a piece of Uncle Lou’s. One lucky individual named Ben bought a verified bullet belt worth of tickets and won just as much back. He ended up giving away large swaths of what he won to fellow attendees. I made sure to swim my way through the crowd to get to Ben to find out what about this place moved him towards such a community-minded action. When I asked him if he thought Uncle Lou’s was vital to the community, he didn’t hesitate to echo this sentiment.
“One could argue it’s one of the few semblances of culture Orlando actually has. This is turning into a gentrified cookie-cutter hellscape out here,” he said. “Having a venue like this where there can actually be community and expression happening, you're not gonna get that out of Disney World or at some dime-a-dozen bar popping up around here that wants to disarm you with like 600 televisions.”
Venue closings tend to feel like walking amid a sinking vessel while it’s going down. Ever present is a sort of somber edge undercutting the joyful celebration of the good times had there. This evening was easily the most solemn venue funeral to date. As we all gathered one last time to say goodbye to a beloved community icon, we couldn’t help but grimace in the face of swallowing the bitter truth that it didn’t have to end like this.
Ultimately, Uncle Lou’s closing was a byproduct of an encroaching fascist purge in this country attacking life, culture, and everything else worth a damn. A force used to oppress immigrants and dissidents did exactly so by ripping people from their communities without any thoughts as to the consequences. This all could have been avoided, and what happened here is a microcosm of what’s going on across the entire country.
While other venue closings allowed some solace in there still being community to cherish along with the memories, this can’t be said for Uncle Lou’s; that’s what makes the pain of this venue loss as tragic as it is. He isn’t here anymore. He could be, but he’s not. This is not like any other venue closing, and one can’t separate the politics out of what happened.
It is vital that we learn a lesson from this loss and organize as a community against the fascism that led to the end of Uncle Lou’s. Go out and vote; take part in mutual aid; protest; volunteer. Do something. Anything. Otherwise, people might just find the community will no longer bear the strength to save them when their back is against the wall, too.
