Most Vassar students have descended the spiral stairs into The Mug’s dimly lit subterranean lair for some campus event or other. But for the majority of the time, it sits just waiting to be used for an event. If you were to enter The Mug on one of its many off-days, you would never know that it was once the center of campus social life. The only remnant of its history as a student-run pub is the original wooden bartop mounted on the wall, inscribed with the names of student bartenders and patrons from generations past. Following a recent conversation with friends about our shared disillusionment with Vassar nightlife, I was inspired to find out more about The Mug’s past life.
On a rainy night in March, I hopped on a Zoom meeting with four ex-Mug bartenders, one of whom is a close family friend. While at Vassar College, they belonged to a friend group known around campus as “The Bettys,” and had plenty of hilarious anecdotes about working at The Mug in the ’80s to share with me, wine aptly in hand. I tried to reassure them that the statute of limitations on drunken break-ins to The Retreat 40 years ago has surely passed, and that admitting to a few shots “misplaced” decades prior would not cause Vassar to revoke their diplomas. But despite my best efforts, they wished to remain somewhat anonymous, a request I have honored by printing only their first names.
Though each of these women are now powerhouses in the entertainment and publishing industries, their careers began behind the bar of what was once Vassar’s social hub. But it was not easy to actually secure a position working there. “They had the most insane interview process… You kind of had to be ‘tapped,’” said Jane. Nancy started working there in her sophomore year and described The Mug interview in more detail. “It was almost like a joke where you’d come down, and all the managers were in chairs on the dance floor and then your chair was opposite them, and then they would train the spotlight on you, like shining on your face.” Few people made the cut of this over-the-top mock-interrogation. It depended heavily on your connections and group of friends. Brigit compared the process to “fraternity hazing.” This exclusive social structure certainly sounded like a tamer liberal arts solution to Greek life.
The job was so hard to get for a reason—it was one of the most fun, coveted on-campus positions. Nancy remembered, “You made so much money compared to other jobs. And I loved bartending because you just get to stand behind the bar and you just have to work really fast.” Jane told me, “Honestly, it was such a fun job. Everyone was dancing all the time. It was just a really joyful place.” Brigit swooped in and added with an eye-roll, “Except when it wasn’t for all those reasons like the guy you liked was with some other girl or whatever.” It is good to know some things never change.
Another perk of working there for these women was access to the nightly insiders-only afterparty. “We’d been working all night so it was just like our time to hang out and do some shots, and then we used to go up to The Retreat and get a little bagel or something. Or break in!” Jane said with a smile. “Ultimately, [the managers] called us all in and they said this is not for profit, but it is not supposed to be a losing venture,” Jane continued, causing an outburst of laughter from all of us.
Back in this heyday, you might have been stuck in line for The Mug for an hour or two; the wait was well worth it for the buzzing atmosphere and music down below. On weekends, students would drink, play games and dance until 3 a.m. as DJs rotated in and out. I felt like I was crashing a college reunion as I listened to them laugh and reminisce, reconstructing their stories as memories came back in bits and pieces.
“I spent many, many, many hours dancing in The Mug… There was Pete’s place off-campus, which was usually post-Mug, but for sure when there was a DJ, you wanted to be in The Mug,” Brigit shared. “We normally played like punk or new wave, but grunge was just starting to come up,” Nancy said. The dancing was fueled by a steady flow of alcohol. “A pitcher of beer was $2.50, so you would get three or four other people, pool your quarters together, and be able to buy a pitcher,” Brigit told me. For current students who live in an era of inflation and liquor liability concerns, this sounds too good to be true. Nancy twisted the knife by adding that it was open seven nights a week. “You could go do your work at the library or whatever and then show up at like 11 or 11:30 and go for an hour and a half,” she said.
The Mug also allowed a cross section of Vassar’s student body to come together. Caroline shared a story about a heated debate that broke out in The Mug when Jesse Jackson was running for president: “This woman said to me, ‘Well you’re like in the Rainbow Coalition so that’s why you’re in favor of him…’ I couldn’t get my mind around the fact that I could go to school with somebody who was against the Rainbow Coalition who went to The Mug every night, too.” Brigit continued, “That’s part of growing up and realizing people have other ideas and opinions. They weren’t necessarily our politics or philosophical ideals, etcetera, but they weren’t necessarily bad people.” It might have been tense at times, but The Mug gave Vassar students with a variety of perspectives the chance to exchange ideas, an opportunity not necessarily available in other spaces on campus.
What struck me most about their stories was the spontaneity The Mug offered them in their social lives. “It was just such a different time where we knew we could connect there,” Caroline said. “Now, maybe you would text and be like ‘Let’s go meet at Pete’s’ or ‘let’s do this,’ or ‘Oh, I’m running late.’ But we would just leave notes on our door, we had a notepad that would say ‘went to The Mug.’” This is something unfathomable today in the age of group chats and location sharing. “You would always find a friend there,” Nancy said. It was refreshing to hear about what it was like before technology and social media made us so alarmingly aware of each other’s whereabouts.
The four of them wrapped up by sharing their overwhelming gratitude for The Mug and their friendship. “Here’s what I will say: whatever it was, we made the best lifelong friends… I’m literally trying to imagine what our experience at Vassar would’ve been like without it,” Jane told me. “We’re a very lucky crew,” Brigit chimed in.
Given the centrality of The Mug to their time at Vassar, it seems a tragedy that it is now such an underutilized space. Its atmospheric lighting and open floor are begging to be turned into something more than just the occasional, often sparsely attended venue for campus events. Since Vassar is also often criticized by students for being too cliquey, the implementation of more third spaces on campus, like The Mug of yore, might make it easier for students to talk to people outside of their typical circle. It was hard not to be jealous when hearing their memories of drunken revelry in The Mug, but I loved learning what life was like for past generations of Brewers. Perhaps their stories are an argument for The Mug’s resurgence, and for reimagining Vassar’s nightlife to be more spontaneous, inclusive and laid back. Beer at $2.50 a pitcher would not hurt, either.
The drinking age was also 18!
The Mug in the 70’s. VC EMS. Closing time calls to evaluate kids who’d had a few too many “Rorer 714s” with the Wild Turkey chasers.
If you know, you know.