The Island Hopper: Oddballs make Little Bar the perfect Halloween hangout

One of the places that brings about that feeling every time I go is Goodland's Little Bar, which recently reopened after closing for part of the off-season.

Don't get me wrong: I love the bar and restaurant's intimacy and casual atmosphere, the friendly staff and the crowd of apparent regulars. I love how owner Ray Bociznik can often be found mingling with his customers, seeming to have opened his bar so that he had a fun place to party with his friends. And the Little Bar's tiny stage smack in the middle of everything is one of the coolest places to see entertainers, in my book.

Yet every time I go, I feel that I've come late to a party that started without me. I also know that this is my own fault. I am often so overwhelmed by the, well, the sheer naked humanity at the Little Bar, I sit dumbstruck, mutely watching the parade go by while the rest of the indigenous crowd there doesn't hesitate to leap into the fray.

But last Friday night, when I was getting in my car to go out, it seemed self-evident: Where else would I go on Halloween night but the Little Bar? It's like the proverbial box of chocolates: You just never do know what you're going to get.

Here is only a partial list of things I saw there that magical night:

	BAR JOKE OF THE WEEK
	Q: What's the difference between a dog and a fox? A: About five drinks.

A woman dressed as a curtain, complete with rod across her shoulders a la Carol Burnett as Scarlett O'Hara. (She later busted a move all over the bar, and let me tell you, until you've seen a window treatment getting jiggy with it, you haven't lived.)

A fully bearded man in a dress and what looked to be his very own hair tied in pigtails.

A biohazard worker, covered head to toe in a protective white suit, who squirted an unidentified liquid at all and sundry from a tank on her back.

And I also saw a musician playing guitar onstage in a chef's costume, with a live snake wrapped around his neck and a huge vat of soup simmering on a stove burner next to the stage.

The man, it turned out, was Stew Taylor, better known around Marco as "Cookin' Stew," since he is, in fact, a former cook. The chef's hat and apron he wore weren't meant to be a Halloween costume. He brings them to all of his gigs.

The same with the snake -- a personal pet that goes where its daddy goes. And so does the soup: Stew bills his act as "Cookin' and Pickin'," and you will always find a savory dish of something next to him when he plays, which the audience gets to share during his set.

Now let's be honest here; it is, after all, the best policy.

Stew is a big man who looks like he takes no guff from anyone. If you value your life and all your limbs, would think twice before crossing him.

BAR JOKES

Where do hear the very best jokes? Why at your favorite drinking establishment, of course. Bartenders and servers always seem to know a new riddle, limerick or quip. We're willing to bet those jokes are funny even when you're sober. So we're asking local bartenders, bar managers and owners, waiters and waitresses -- even bouncers -- to share their favorite bar jokes with the Islander. (Keep 'em reasonably clean, please!) We'll print one or two jokes every week. You can e-mail us at mail@marcoeagle.com ; or fax your joke to 213-5391. Make sure you include your name and the name of the bar or restaurant where you work.

During the course of Cookin' Stew's set, you'll see him play any of several guitars; you'll see him saw on his violin; you'll see him blow a flute, recorder and/or harmonica. If you are lucky (and he's playing somewhere slightly larger than the accurately named Little Bar), you may see him play drums, accordion, steel drums, banjo or mandolin.

He's incredibly wide-ranging, and almost completely self-taught.

On the night I saw him at Little Bar, Taylor was accompanied by his friend Ron on bass guitar, with a backup drum machine. ("Believe me, the drum machine is a thorn in my side," he hastened to assure me, apparently familiar with my rage against the machine.) The two cranked out tunes by the Rolling Stones, Steve Miller, Santana, Eric Clapton and the like -- good old classic rock in extended-play versions that allowed Stew the freedom to jam.

He provided the vocals too -- and while his voice is thin and not particularly strong, so were Bob Dylan's and Jerry Garcia's in later years, and no one seemed to mind, given their other musical talents.

Taylor has played all over the area since he moved here in 1974. He's at the Little Bar pretty regularly throughout the year, as well as at Captain Brien's in the old Joey's Pizza space, and at Castaways in East Naples. He also plays private parties and country clubs.

Often he brings his entire brood with him, each of whom plays various instruments, from guitar to violin to drums to xylophone.

His sets vary from the classic rock he played Halloween night to jazz, blues and reggae, as well as a smattering of his own originals. To find out where he's playing, or how to book him, call him at 455-0790.

What's new?

If you do go down to the Little Bar, check out brand-new server Melissa Fleck.

Pretty blonde Melissa, who sported a sassy French maid costume on Halloween, can be seen shimmying to the music with customers and co-workers, bantering with the regulars, and ferrying cocktails to and fro. The hardworking longtime local also works at the Capri Fish House and cleans homes, but she seems to adore her newest job. "I love it here; it's awesome!" she says with characteristic enthusiasm. If you go, make sure to say hi and share a shimmy!

To find out what's new in entertainment, or to tell me where to go -- in the literal sense, mind you -- to check things out, write me at missyates@juno.com.