From
this
Valley
By Pete Steiner
Hangin’ at the Albatross I
t wasn’t Studio 54. But for Mankato at the time, it wasn’t a bad approximation. The Albatross. Or simply, “The ‘Tross.” Dancing. Good times. Viking sightings. Sex in the city. Perhaps no bar, not even the Square Deal or the Caledonia or The Hurdy Gurdy, ever achieved the legendary status of Al Gruidl’s establishment on Warren Street. As one friend pointed out in 1976, ‘The drinking age was 19. So you put this sort of forbidden place right across the street from the college campus — what do you think is gonna happen?” It was late in the “Me” decade. Disco had taken the country by storm and, in December 1977, the mega-hit movie “Saturday Night Fever” was pumping out “Stayin’ Alive” and other dance favorites to radio stations and dance clubs. “Urban Renewal” had obliterated most of Mankato’s legendary downtown live music bars, including the granddaddy of them all, The Rathskeller. So Gruidl took his liquor license up the hill into the new strip mall on Warren Street. They put in some crazy, modernist angles, an elevated dance floor, some big subwoofers — and voila — the Albatross, capable of holding 1,000 patrons a night, had landed.
“Remember Hi Ho Silver night and Schooner nights at the Tross?? I still have my schooner!!” — from an online chat room “I think I had some good times there, but I really can’t remember.” — Reply from a friend who frequented the Albatross.
Disclaimer This piece should be considered more as creative non-fiction than journalism, as I’ve relied heavily on others’ sometimes hazy recollections. I was pretty involved with my future wife by that time, not making the club scene, and not much a fan of disco dancing. Jeanne and I did love the Mexican cantina restaurant that took up part of the south end of the ‘Tross, so we might show up there 44 • october 2013 • MANKATO MAGAZINE
who would sidle up to the bar in Viking jerseys, often successfully convincing gullible young ladies that they did indeed play for the Vikings and were available for “dating.” One guy offers this: “If you couldn’t [hook up] at the ‘Tross, you had to be a total loser.” A former DJ says, “It was a vibe, an experience different from anything the town had seen.”
early on a Saturday evening. But it was the nightlife, the late-hours’ music and dancing that was the real cache of the place.
“Is the Albatross bar still there? That place might go a long way in explaining the STD problem. Almost got into a fight with (QB) Jim McMann (sic) there once when he was extremely rude to a waitress.” — recent onlione post made by former Vikes’ punter Chris Kluwe
High times in Sin City When I ask for recollections, a common response is, “You’re not going to quote me, are you?” It’s like trying to line up witnesses for Whitey Bulger’s trial in Boston. Anyone want to admit publicly to being part of the scene? Hey, get over it! It’s 30 years ago. The statute of limitations has expired. A local businessman offers this story: He had a young female office worker who was apparently very attractive. One morning she came in to work and told the businessman she was “dating Tommy Kramer (former star Vikings’ quarterback).” The boss merely smiled, thinking to himself, “I wonder how many there are like her, who are all ‘dating Tommy Kramer.’” And there’s more than one local guy who can tell a story of losing a girlfriend to a Viking – at least temporarily. Yes, real Vikings players did frequent the ‘Tross during training camp. And there are the stories of well-built young men, MSU students,
About a month ago, I caught up with Al Gruidl by phone. He lives in southern California now, near Palm Springs the last six years. He sold the Albatross in 1998, and it closed five years later to make room for the University Square mixed-use development across from Taylor Center. Gruidl says, when he first proposed his idea in 1975, the City Council was reluctant to let him take his Rathskeller liquor license up the hill. Moreover, state zoning laws prohibited liquor establishments from being as close to a campus as the new bar would be on Warren Street. Not yet 30, Gruidl recalls, he made the trek to St. Paul repeatedly to lobby the Legislature to modify that law. With the drinking age just 19 at the time, he knew he had “a huge potential crowd” within blocks of the new location. Still, when he finally got his variance, he confesses even he had no idea the ‘Tross would succeed like it did, with a thousand or more patrons each night.