Did Sullivan’s girlfriend ever say yes?
At Mario’s Fishbowl, one may never know.
That’s because the note Sully’s buddies pasted on the wall during the evening he proposed there is partially obscured by all the other notes people have put up over the decades.
The current owners of Mario’s are officially counting seven decades, in fact. The bar celebrated the anniversary Thursday.
This tiny tavern which hugs Richwood Avenue in Morgantown’s Woodburn neighborhood has been part of the proceedings since 1949.
It began its life as a confectionary during those Baby Boom times, and when Mario and Rose Spina bought it 13 years later, it didn’t take long for the place to morph into Morgantown’s original Third Place.
You know: The place you go, as defined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg, that isn’t home or work.
The Third Place is where you celebrate, or sulk.
Where you’re intensely serious, or gloriously silly, with like-minded people.
Where you go to break up — or ask for a lifelong commitment, as in the case of Mr. Sullivan’s covered-over marriage proposal.
Under Mario and Rose’s watch, the Fishbowl (more on the name) etched the idea of the Third Place deeper than the seams of coal that run under the place that is Morgantown.
Townies bend elbows with tenured professors from WVU at Mario’s.
Students away from home for the first time dive into the suds, too, learning the coming-of-age lesson that there’s nothing, at least at this point in their existence, like a good bar.
Even if, as Chas Stanley said with a chuckle on Thursday, they had to go through Mario Spina first: More on that, also.
Stanley, meanwhile, is a Charleston native who came to WVU as a freshman in 1968.
Of foamy beverages and phone books
It wasn’t long before he was a Fishbowl regular, where he became fascinated at the bar-psychology practiced by Mario and Rose.
For one thing, they were always done out for work.
Rose came the bar in a dress and heels, and Mario was never seen without his trademark white shirt and bowtie.
Mario would also take the driver’s licenses of his patrons who were students, Stanley recalled.
“He’d put your license in the phone book and tell you the page number,” he said.
“If you couldn’t remember the page at the end of the night, he wouldn’t give your license back.”
You’d have to retrieve your card to drive the next day, he said, when you weren’t under the Fish Bowl Influence.
Mario would also clang a handbell, if things started getting too rowdy — and it worked, Stanley said, marveling.
“I never saw one fight in this place,” Stanley said, “and it could get crowded.”
It was crowded Thursday for the celebration.
People packed in for the food specials and anniversary giveaways — those were announced with the clanging of the Spina-hand bell by co-owner Kim Zweibaum.
The celebration also included donations of cleaning and hygiene products for The Shack Neighborhood House, the enrichment center in Pursglove that has been serving youngsters since 1928.
Zweibaum went to work as a bartender at Mario’s 10 years ago on her way to earning a teaching degree from WVU. These days, her classroom is in the bar.
“When you’re a bartender,” Zweibaum said, smiling, “you’re a teacher and a psychologist. You hear confessions.”
Home address
The place that is Mario’s Fishbowl has only changed hands three times since 1949.
Original owners Tom and Anna Torch passed it along to Mario and Rose, as said, in 1963.
In turn, they sold it to Mark and Karen Fufari in 1997, and when that couple decided to retire 20 years later, they didn’t have to look hard for someone keep the legacy.
Zweibaum and fellow Mario’s employees Greg Craddock, Sarah Mahe, Alan Costlow and Kim Laurita bought the place, which now has a second location in Suncrest.
They have a collective 60 years’ of experience in the business.
The 2020 Mario’s is basically the same as the 1963 Mario’s, she said.
“We might tweak it every once in a while,” she said, “but that’s it.”
The beer still comes in the signature “fish bowls” that gave the place its name in ‘63.
Those West Virginia-made chalices were
both a marketing hook and nod to Morgantown’s past as a glass-making ‘burg whose fans included Jackie Kennedy.
The First Lady loved the crystal goblets that came out of the University City and ordered whole cases of them for the White House.
Third Place (my place)
Zweibaum just loves going to work every day, she said. She loves her regulars and her co-workers.
She loves all those notes on the wall that make a narrative, and bar-archeology, of place and Third Place.
You chugged a fish-bowl of beer, notching your personal best, in the process.
You passed Trig. You didn’t get drafted. You moved to Paris and made an ex-pat visit back to your favorite bar.
Stanley is quick to buy a round of those same emotions.
After he earned his degree from WVU in 1972, his career took him to Columbus, Ohio, for several years.
When the opportunity to come back to Morgantown clanged like Mr. Spina’s handbell, Stanley didn’t hesitate.
“Here I am,” he said, grinning.
“Back in Morgantown at Mario’s Fishbowl.”
