Unless you were really deep into the weeds of researching your favorite bar, or adept at using the Flint Property Portal, it has never been readily apparent who owns Soggy Bottom Bar. And that in itself was an impressive testament to Steven Tessmer’s leadership and the beloved space he provided for the community at Soggy.
Tessmer, who owned Soggy Bottom and Wolverine Autobody Repair next door on Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue downtown Flint, died on May 6. His obituary cites his tireless work ethic, noting that he began working in auto body repair alongside his father when he was just 15 years old, and his love for his family. He’s survived by his wife Nancy, with whom he was about to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary, and daughters, Kristy (R.J.) Munger and Shana (Andrew) Aguirre; grandchildren Skylar, Logan, Steven, Jack, and Cecelia; siblings: Michael Tessmer, Carol (Robert) Bradley, and Cathy Tessmer; sisters-in-law Cindy Tessmer and Debbie Tessmer; special sister-in-law Beverly Sargent; and several nieces, nephews, great nieces and great nephews and many other beloved family and friends.
The sheer number of people whose lives were touched and made more joyful through the space he created, and allowed his team to guide, is truly incalculable.
My Own Soggy Story
I’m gonna get vulnerable for a second, because this is a bar story and getting vulnerable is what bars are for.
It was around 2016 or so, and I was going through a divorce. Anyone who has gone through one knows how disorienting, traumatic, and lonely that can be. There’s varying degrees of turmoil and chaos that are unique to each situation, so the details of my own aren’t important for this story, other than to note that in those days, there was near-constant chaos, and fear, and loneliness. The worst musical theatre soundtrack you could ever imagine was also involved, but that’s a story for the T.V. show script if I ever get around to finishing it.
I was fortunate enough to have a small, wonderful group of friends around me who lifted me up then and have become family in the years since. And I was also fortunate enough to have Soggy Bottom. Or, more specifically, the people who have worked there over the years and made it special.
There were days that I couldn’t focus on anything other than the hurt I was experiencing in my home life, where trying to concentrate at work was impossible, where the thought of being alone with my thoughts was unbearable. I’m not saying this is the best, or even a good way, to cope with trauma, but sometimes in the heat of those feelings, you just need what you need to survive until the next moment when you can try again to regroup. And there were times that what I needed was just to sneak away to Soggy with any friend I could convince to drop everything to go with me to have a drink and eat something drenched in queso.
I’ve since healed and learned better coping mechanisms. But I look back on that time, and the people at Soggy who helped me through it (whether they knew they were helping or not) with immense gratitude. It was simple care, like Ashley talking about her favorite Ring of Honor Bryan Danielson matches when I was just learning about his pre-WWE career and also being slick enough to put my whiskey water in a plastic cup so it looked like a non-alcoholic drink just in case my boss walked in (I told you, I’ve learned much better coping mechanisms since then and am in a healthier place now, the statute of limitations has expired on punishing me over a lunch drink!).
There were so many nights at Soggy where different members of the staff made me laugh, or distracted me with a great story, or showed kindness in moments I truly needed those things. It’s overwhelming to think about and try to catalog it all in any organized hierarchy. So I’m not going to. That’s what the best bar nights are like anyway … rapid fire, sometimes fleeting moments of joy, fun, conversations, and memories that may or may not even come back to you easily, let alone chronologically, after they hit you in the moment.
I remember two bros who clearly hadn’t been there before walking in one night years ago, sitting down next to my partner and I at the bar, and shouting at Andy while he was busy to “put the Tigers on” the tiny TV behind the bar. Andy grabbed the remote, flipped it to Animal Planet, and there happened to be a show that had two tigers walking around stalking some prey. Andy started laughing uncontrollably at how well his impromptu joke worked out, walked away, and never did come back to find the baseball game. They finished their Budweisers and left.
One of my most prized possessions is a drawing Andy made of me one night. It looks nothing like me and I don’t even really wear hats that often, but he drew me wearing a hat for some reason. I don’t even know how him deciding to draw me came about, but I’m grateful he did.
It’s always been a dream of my writer friends and I to have bartenders just know what our drink is, and there are many nights that I’ve walked into Soggy with friends and by the time I get to the bar or a table, one of the bartenders has already sent over my drink. Friends I’m with are always impressed. Or they think I’m an alcoholic and are too polite to say so, but either way, it makes me happy. In fact, it’s even caught on outside of Soggy. Many years after she’d stopped working at Soggy, I saw Mackenzie behind the bar at the Machine Shop while I was at a concert, and she said, “Didn’t I always used to get you whiskey waters?” I almost started crying. Another time, a different Mackenzie from Soggy was behind me in line at Burton Meijer. We made eye contact and she said, “… whiskey water?” She didn’t remember my name, but I’m honestly more honored to be known by my disgusting drink of choice than by my name.
One night, on my birthday, just a couple of weeks before the world shut down during the pandemic, I had to use the bathroom. As much as I wish being tipsy was an excuse, I hadn’t even had a drink yet. I was looking at my phone and missed the one step down to the lower level and fell, in the multi-part way that Kevin Hart once described Shaquille O’Neal’s falls, sort of in slow motion first hitting my knees, then toppling the rest of the way over. They weren’t that busy, and I felt relieved that no one had seen it. Then as I got back to the table, Bryan, who must’ve been hidden behind the bar, was re-enacting it to my friends.
I remember sitting at the bar on a busy night when John Paul was working, when a downtown mover and shaker who shall remain nameless, stopped in to request that some sort of bus tour with dozens of people on it be accommodated when they stop by the already full bar in a few minutes. John Paul, in the sage-like manner he has about him, calmly said “yeah … no thanks.” The downtowner, clearly not used to people telling him no and oblivious to the fact that there was no room for even a couple more people let alone a bus full of them, promptly started outlining what a favor he was doing by bringing these people. John Paul laughed and reiterated that the bar was packed, as it always was on Fridays and Saturdays, and therefore not in need of the favor. I admired that interaction for years, and wished more people would talk to the downtown elite that way.
Another night, a customer freaked out about something and was threatening to fight the whole staff and other customers. He was asked to leave, but didn’t want to. Matt, the kind and efficient jack of all trades, calmly stepped in front of the man (who was about twice Matt’s size) and walked him right out the door without putting a hand on him. The man couldn’t get around him despite his size advantage – it was incredible to watch, like a Zamboni slowly but strongly plowing something off the ice.
I love that the music absolutely NEVER matched the clientele on any given evening, and that never seemed to matter. One night, with a diverse crowd of mostly people in their young 20s there at the time, the playlist was blasting out Family Values Tour era Limp Bizkit and Korn (shoutout to Alex, because this was a great playlist). Another night, with mostly middle aged people, it was heavy on rap including Sada Baby and Young Thug. Somehow, a few biker looking dudes wandered in one night and the playlist included some Cher and Mariah Carey. It’s all part of the charm.
There’s a limitless list of things I could retell, but in bar fashion, I have to give myself a last call. So here are a few more before the lights get flipped on. Alex telling me he’d assumed I’m always high (I’ve never smoked, other than trying to impress girls by smoking clove cigarettes for a minute in college) because my eyes always look red and watery (I have bad allergies!); Sarena always having the most incredible sometimes unhinged but always hilarious stories and gossip that only the most talented bartenders acquire; winning over Ryan, who was always a little grouchy, by helping stack chairs one night while he vacuumed and then having some great conversations with him from that point on; my friends and I all referring to Jeremy as “Jerms” because he just looked like a Jerms, but never having the courage to call him that to his face; Madii, Sim, Nathan, and Ariel being some of the most consistently nice and friendly people I’ve ever met; my partner never falling for Justin’s tap one shoulder and move to the other side joke, but him still trying it on her every time (she DID fall for it often when Andy did the same trick); learning random cool things about people, like Stephen’s talents as an artist or John Paul’s carpentry skills (which is all the more hilarious since John Paul looks a little like Jesus).
There’s definitely more stories and people I’m leaving out, and I’m going to have to resist the urge to keep coming back and updating this section. But my hope, and hunch, is that many other people are thinking about the ways this beautiful collection of weirdos at Soggy have added to our lives over the years.
Grieving for the Family and Staff
For now, according to Soggy Bottom’s Facebook page, the bar is closed indefinitely while everyone grieves and processes this immense and sudden loss. I’ve seen so many beautiful outpourings of support from all over Flint that are sad to read, but I hope also helps the Tessmer family and those who were close to Steve understand the beauty of this wonderful, weird space he gave to the city and its people.
As an owner of any business, it can be difficult to not make your imprint the only one that matters, and Tessmer definitely was a unique character in his own right – his obituary hints at his humor and personality, calling him an “unforgettable presence.” Which makes the environment that was created at his bar all the more impressive, because perhaps the most lovable aspect at Soggy Bottom is that it truly became a welcoming, comfortable space that reflected the quirky and dynamic personalities of the staff, the regulars, and the artists who played everything from jazz to screamo to standup comedy to poetry on the small corner stage over the years. It takes a humble person to allow a space to take on a life of its own based on the people who love it, but that’s exactly what was created at Soggy Bottom. Tessmer will be greatly missed, and I speak on behalf of myself, our other contributors at Flint. Daily., and many of my friends when I share how grateful we are for what he and his team have provided to countless people in his lifetime.
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