Just another Sunday at Mcfadden’s

When I reached the corner of 42nd Street and 2nd Avenue, I grew extremely excited at the sight of the dark green awning under which a 6’3″, 300 pound black man was standing, chatting with a small group. Frankie, the bouncer, was the first person I talked to, and from the very beginning was nice and apparently made up his mind that he would be helping me (he later invited me to stand on seats to get a better view, and told me about the crowds the bar usually serves – sometimes there are so many people that he’s forced to send them next door).

Once Frankie let me in, I walked through the door and met Pete, the owner who welcomed me and walked me through the bar. Some fans had already assembled along the bar, wearing their jerseys and seemingly in good spirits at the prospect of a game that might treat them better than the last had. The smell of Buffalo chicken wings drifted up to my nostrils, but it was nothing compared to the intensity of the smell that came later, once the place had filled up and everyone was enjoying what they had paid for. On a game Sunday, customers can pay $15 for unlimited chicken wings and soda, or $20 for all you can eat and all the beer you can drink. “They’re the best in the world,” said one fan. “It’s all about the sauce.” Then he ran off to eat his two plates of wings without giving me the time to ask his name.

The first people I talked to were Steve and Jon, who met at Mcfadden’s through “being fans.” They said they are usually part of a group of about five people, but the Bills lost a game on Monday, their fifth loss in a row, so the morale was very low. The bar was usually packed, they said, and today was nothing.

Sitting a few feet away were Rebecca and Jocelyn. Rebecca was told about the place about two years and has been coming since, and she’s the one who invited Jocelyn, who was wearing a white shirt and pajama pants. They were nice enough to hold my coat and bag so I didn’t have to struggle with them.

Everyone agreed that this was not the best game to witness, due to Monday’s loss. But Tim stayed positive: “If we’re not gonna win, at least I’ll get drunk.” How long would that take? “At this rate, not long at all,” he laughed. He attibuted the relatively low attendance to the fact that most people were probably disheartened or away for the holidays.

Todd Rethemeier, who was standing nearby, saw my camera and said “if you wait, in just a couple of yards we’ll score and go nuts.” I waited amongst them, feeling the tension build up, crash when the team didn’t quite make it, and then explode when they did. Everyone jumped up, yelled, chanted the place’s own call and response song, hugged, danced, high-fived, and threw napkins in the air.

“If you want the sports fans, well you got us. We’re here,” said and excited Jill Kerschensteiner, who had gathered a stack of napkins to throw in the air when they scored.

In the seating area behind the bar, through which waitresses carried pitchers of beer to the tables, Alex Valentine and Rachel Schaeffer were enjoying chicken wings, mozarella sticks and beer. Alex has been coming to Mcfadden’s for three years, and this was the third time Rachel joined her, for a photography project she was doing.

Sitting at the next table, trying to listen to what I was doing, was Kenny. He was there with Kim, and he has been coming to Mcffaden’s ever since it first opened. “My brother lives nearby and when the place opened, one of his friends was here and called him to come over. Been here ever since.” He says the reason he comes to about 14 out of 16 games every year is the atmosphere – “it’s the only place that plays the Bills game.” Kim, on the other hand, seemed to be more of a fan of the chicken wings. When I asked her how they were, all she could muster, her mouth full, was a nod of approval and a thumbs up.

I came back around to the bar area, where people posed for pictures thinking I was the usual photographer’s replacement. I indulged them before meeting Hope and Tommy, who were in charge of the money, and then Dave Godvin, who comes here twice a year from Florida. He’s been a Bills fan since 1961, and is originally from Buffalo.

Over the sound of “Sweet Home Alabama” and dozens of voices joining in, I then spoke to Earnest Wallace, Barry Walbrop and Ben Irvin. Ben and Barry have been coming for years, Ben being the first, and Earnest was only at his second time. “I’m being converted by these two,” he said with a smile. Will he come back? “Oh yeah!” he said enthusiastically before taking a gulp of beer.

Ben,  who is also a Buffalo native, comes here because he calls it “a little piece of home.”