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The Brady Street Gang: Retrospective from 2021
by Robyn Spradlin
Century Hall
The talented opera singer was a longtime member of “the gang.” Bob Raasch had intended to call her but discovered that it was too late. “Now I can’t and I feel terrible,” he lamented.
Raasch’s nostalgic contemplation marked the 12th anniversary of the May 1 closing of the Brady Street Pharmacy and Café, where decades of his sojourns had created memories and more.
While visiting Milwaukee’s Astor Theater as a child to watch Cecil B. DeMille’s “Reap the Wild Wind,” Raasch had no idea his future self would be immersed in “The Brady Street Gang,” inhabiting the same building days on end for multiple years.
The moniker “Brady Street Gang” has an ominous ring; however, threatening activities weren’t incurred. Quite the contrary, they gathered daily at the drugstore cafe enjoying newspapers and coffee, but mainly the companionship of others frequenting the neighborhood establishment. They spent myriad hours creating connections that outlasted the business.
Raasch, a Milwaukee native, lived there until he became an audio engineer in Nevada in 1967. However, he hadn’t encountered this group until a friend, opera singing postal worker Sol Zitron, introduced him to the Knickerbocker Hotel’s coffee shop.
“They had a great coffee shop,” Raasch chuckled.
He recalled helping move the business from the Knickerbocker to the Astor Theater overnight. Volunteers loaded kitchen equipment, store shelving and contents into trucks, then relocated and reassembled the business for opening the next morning. “The gang followed” the coffee shop to its new home at the intersection of Astor and Brady Streets, he said.
The colorful group consisted of opera singers, a postal worker, a boxing instructor, a bridge-builder, local government officials, professional photographers, banking and investment brokers, graphic designers, writers and editors.
He likened them to a “smaller version of the Algonquin Round Table,” a group of writers, actors and critics who shared leisurely lunches at New York’s Algonquin Hotel during the ‘20s.
Raasch explained the Brady Street Gang’s appeal. “It was the camaraderie. They were all friends and acquaintances, and we were all so used to being together, so it became a thing where we met all the time.”
“I so looked forward to going there,” he said. “I lived in Las Vegas and took summers off. I went to Milwaukee and worked with the stagehands putting in shows, like Pink Floyd (with) 14 truckloads of equipment that took three days to set up,” he added chortling. Milwaukee summers were full of festivals, and Raasch hung out at the coffee shop between setups and teardowns.
“I was at Brady Street from the beginning, I was hooked on the place.” A wistful sigh escaped as he continued, “I really miss it – I miss those times.”
Raasch explained the cultural impact of moving from Juneau Avenue to Brady Street’s largely Italian neighborhood.
“The diversity made it better,” said Raasch. “In the morning, the lawyers would come in; when they left, the locals, the Italians,” he continued, erupting in laughter. “We called them the Mafia, but they were all a bunch of nice people. Then in the afternoon, it was other people.”
Raasch described a rich, flavorful medley of religions, politics, cultures, ethnicities and professions where differences failed at hindering cohesive relationships.
“Not everybody agreed with everybody, but that was left behind. They didn’t make a big deal out of everything which they shouldn’t today, either.”
The unintentional historian attributed the group’s successful longevity to building bridges, — not barriers —with others.
“There was a story with every person,” he reminisced. “I am happy to have known them all.”
Raasch said “Henry” was such a man; he sat alone, seldom joined the cafe chatter. A river of dialogue overflowed; the barrier dismantled when Raasch initiated a conversation. Henry previously built bridges and withstood Alzheimer’s encroachment.
Raasch still keeps up with the survivors, concluding, “You can go to any city and find gathering places where the same group comes in every day to talk and have fun.”
It’s a legacy that the veteran raconteur leaves for a discordant world: Out of diversity can come harmony and the bonds of enduring friendship.