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Vice Blog

Rest In Pieces 751

Every city has its one dive bar that hits a perfect apex of being really cheap, really grimy and still able to attract a fun young crowd instead of a bunch of violent hobos. For Toronto, that bar was 751 until its gradual decline sometime last year where everyone just stopped going. Today, it was widely noticed that 751 shut its doors for what seems like "forever" and now, with a gasp of nostalgia and sad, dark recollection, we will air out its skeleton-jammed closet.

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I started DJing there in late 2008 until I was banned from the bar in 2011. Sometime in 2010 it became a regular tradition to punch out the large, dusty ceiling tiles and throw them into the crowd. That tradition developed into a bit of a tense episode when a girl covered in dust tried to scream my friend out for ruining her night. He gave her an apathetic "whatever" and tried to bum a smoke off her.

Here's a photo of my friend Eric covered in his own puke and passed out under a bunch of coats. In the regular, bar without a coat check fashion, the pile of coats provided a wonderful mattress for Eric to pass the fuck out on. He was also very well known for smoking full joints inside and when the bartenders came down I would deny any knowledge. Every time.

751 was, of course, no stranger to fighting. At one point in what must have been 2010, the beloved bar manager at the time ran downstairs when she heard there were some disrespectful patrons down there smoking cigarettes. The manager, a strong woman in all respects, grabbed the bitch's hair and threw her onto the disgusting basement floor pulling her drug store hair extensions out in the process. When I got my money at the end of the night, the manager presented the rug of hair to me like a beaver pelt, smiling like a proud hunter.

Another time, a guy got bottled while we were playing DMX. Then another time after that, one of our bouncer friends encountered a guy who "made a shiv out of a pop can" and "tried to stab him in the neck". Here's a picture of said bouncer shooting a gun.

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Then there was the side alley where everyone smoked. One time I was sitting out there, drunk and probably sitting around with a girl friend lamenting a recent break up, where I found a passport on the ground. Instead of being responsible and remembering to hand it in to the trusty bartenders I unknowingly kept it on my person all night… and all morning… right through airport security as I was flying to Vancouver at 9 that morning. Once I realized I had two pieces of government ID on me for two completely different people, I smoothly walked over to an airport steward and handed in the passport. I told him I found it on the floor.

Then there were the theme parties we threw for no reason. Tastelessly, there was the 9/11 @ 751 party that upset a lot of people. We also threw a party called Turkey Orphans on Thanksgiving for those that couldn't get home to eat a bird.

All great and disgusting things come to an end of course and in 2011 I was banned. I went out to the bar to set up for my rap party and was DJing with the usual dudes I usually DJ with except no one came! That didn't stop us from being extremely rowdy and we were punching the ceiling tiles right onto the floor. A girl we were with grabbed the mic and yelled "WHY ARE YOU HERE" to the few patrons weird enough to be hanging out in the basement of the bar with us and I went into a routine I called "screamo hypeman" where I just screamed at the top of my lungs into the microphone. A fat bartender who wasn't wearing a shirt, for some reason, kicked us out forcefully. We tried to get paid and they tried to say they would be invoicing us for damages. Good times.

R.I.P 751, as my friend Chas said, no one respected you.

@patrickmcguire