Vince Taylor’s Sunday begins at 11:30 p.m. Saturday.
He is the head bouncer at Bluelight, a late-night Roscoe Village bar partially hidden behind the Belmont overpass on Western Avenue. At the start of this particular Sunday, Taylor peers at the crowd through the front door. “Not bad. We usually don’t get busy till 2.”
Taylor, a 29-year-old Chicagoan, is not large by bouncer standards and his boyish face can seem more welcoming than threatening. On a chilly night, his black peacoat covers a sleeve of tattoos on his arm, but a few images rise above his neckline. Most noticeable: a pink ribbon just below his throat, a tribute to his mother, a breast cancer survivor and retired Chicago police counselor who spent much of her career at the station across the street from Bluelight.
“Other bars call their guys ‘public relations managers,'” Taylor says, taking a lap inside. “I’m a bouncer.” A straightforward assessment that perfectly matches a place that eschews the velvet rope in favor of exposed brick, oversize drinks and a pulsing soundtrack.
Taylor works most weekends at Bluelight, overseeing four security staff members, working the door and keeping the bar in good graces with its neighbors by managing patrons outside.
Just after 1 a.m., the music is cut and a crowd gathers near the front door. Bar patron Jerome Clyder is proposing to his girlfriend, Negris Yildirin. Taylor knew about the impending occasion and arranged with the bar’s manager, Brian Meyers, to have a bottle of sparkling wine ready. Cheers and camera flashes announce that Yildirin has said yes.
The excitement wanes and the choppy stream of patrons coming and going resumes.
Another bouncer, Mike “Fluffy” Camiola, politely hands a suspect ID back to a woman and refuses to let her in.
No exceptions, Taylor says later. “Everyone has an excuse, but if you cut that one deal, that’s when you get burned.”
Taylor says he has heard his share of excuses after almost nine years working at local nightspots, including River North’s Excalibur. Four years ago, he moved to Bluelight. When he’s not working at the bar, Taylor works at O’Hare International Airport, as a service rep for United Airlines, a full-time job he has had for 11 years. If he finds any free time, he hangs out with his wife, Alicia, and their dog, Zoe, a pug-beagle mix. “I’m really just a homebody.”
A “4 o’clock bar” (but open until 5 on Sunday mornings), Bluelight is just winding up when most bars are closing. The crowd coming in includes patrons from other establishments and the waiters/waitresses, bartenders, cooks and busboys who served them. Taylor greets them with hugs and handshakes. “I’m great with faces, terrible with names,” he says.
Occasionally the job calls on Taylor to get tough, like the moment this night when a driver pulling out of a parking lot sideswiped another car and tried to take off. Taylor blocked the driver’s exit and, with his staff, flagged the police to handle the situation.
“I’m definitely not in (this job) for the action,” Taylor says. “A good bouncer never gets in a fight. I like the extra money, but mostly I enjoy being around people having a good time.”
Last call arrives, and by 4:45 a.m. Taylor is organizing his staff for closing time. They guide a few revelers who are reluctant to leave and soon the bar is eerily quiet.
Taylor sets off on the evening’s last neighborhood patrol, a voluntary measure started after meetings with nearby residents. It’s 5 a.m. The sky’s still dark, but a full shift at the airport lies ahead. No time for sleep, he says.
“You train your body for the weekend.”
