The Citizen Different

Sheena was a little worried that Santa Fe was just a dustier, drier version of Niagara-On-The-Lake with its overpriced jewelery shops and arts-and-craps boutiques until her chaperone pointed at a sign on the corner of E. San Francisco Street. "Evangelo's" it read. Poked a head inside the door. Interesting change of scenery from the deodorized and sanitized local handicraft shops and stalls that all appear to supply unsuspecting honkies with the same turquoise cuff-link at every corner.

Road-weary, we sat for a couple of cold brewskis. Then things got interesting. Looking at the photographs on the wall, reading the framed newspaper articles, we realized we'd stumbled into a genuine piece of authentic Americana.

Evangelo Klonis was a belatedly recognized American hero, captured on film in WW2, but only identifed in 2002 when a photography scholar stumbled in for a margarita or two and left with a dissertation in hand.

Legend goes that Marcia Tiede, of the University of Arizona, an expert on the works of noted war photographer and stamp icon W. Eugene Smith, recognized the unforgettable manly mug and a legend already known locally hit the international press.


Thankfully, Evangelo's is as good a place to drink as it is to soak up American history. Selection of local brews is a little iffy, limited to the questionably labelled Roswell's Alien Ale, which was sampled and limited to consumption factor of "one". Handshaken margaritas were lovely, and good old South West standby Negra Modello fit the bill.

Sheena attempted to cajole her chaperone into a home style Bloody Mary, but the look of sheer panic on his face led her to ease off. The pitcher of tomato soaked garden mulch was unlike anything ever encountered before. A cocktail to be eaten with a fork, not a straw.

Apparently all was not so rosy in the middle part of the 20th century when Evangelo's lamentably attempted a Tiki theme.

While the still-standing ornate woodwork in a overwhelmingly fish theme is still stunning, apparently it was quickly realized that the authentic thatched grass and biodegradable bamboo combined with the polyester fashions of the day presented a serious fire hazard in the pre-smoking ban decades and the eventually the maintenance nightmare shifted the focus away from such polynesian dreams.

Local colour continues to dominate, particularly (according to my boy-spy) in the men's can. Santa Fe's artiste and lefter-than-the-average New Mexican culture surely is responsible for the john side graffiti asking patrons and other disgruntled Los Alamos workers to "Fuck the Lab", with appropriately hand-drawn mushroom cloud immediately underneath.


The current proprietors, son Nick and mother Angelika
apparently return to their roots in Greece regularly. A conversation at the end of the bar today indicated "but probably not this year.. too much business to take care of here"....

Wonder if they meant this.