If you took all the flat-screen TVs out of Cornerstone Grill and Loft, stripped its wooden floors to bare concrete and removed all things breakable or susceptible to damage, you would essentially have a shell of a bar.
Fill that shell with hundreds of students and endless rivers of beer flowing from the taps, then coat that concrete with a slimy layer of bodily fluids and spilled booze, and you would have the Rendezvous Inn, Cornerstone’s fabled – and somewhat notorious – predecessor.
Next month, Cornerstone turns 10, a milestone for any business. But for owner Mark Srour, whose family has run the bar during both its incarnations, the dynamic changes occurring at his bar have mimicked the sweeping improvements the university has undergone.
By most accounts, College Park has been slow to push its raggedy businesses to catch up with the rising reputation of the university. But that wasn’t the case with Cornerstone. With university President Dan Mote’s arrival in 1998 and a declared goal to achieve national academic rankings, the bar at Knox Road and Route 1 was already shedding its image as a haven for budding barflies and John Belushi-like frat kings.
“I’ve always said that in my opinion, [the Rendezvous Inn] was never really a bar, but more of a frat and sorority ‘Animal House’ type place to hang out,” said Srour. “Everybody knew everyone. It was just a big party.”
But Srour started noticing that as the university accepted fewer college freshman who’d never cracked a 2.5 GPA, the rowdiness gradually became confined to Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays.
“Each year that went by, the ‘Vous became more obsolete,” Srour said. “The students only wanted the crazy rowdiness one or two nights a week, and I can’t survive off that. So, my brother and I were kind of forced into making it a nicer place.”
Changing the family-owned – though not family-oriented – ‘Vous meant transforming the boisterous beer joint into a versatile restaurant that could serve food, but could still draw party-loving students after the dinner crowd died down. Keeping the party going was made slightly easier, however, with the conversion of Srour’s liquor license to one that allowed all forms of alcohol – not just beer.
But changing the name of the ‘Vous – that veritable symbol of college spirit and debauchery – was the hardest part, Srour said. To many, the ‘Vous conjured images of university life that included dancing on tables and a sport known as “the beer slide” that entailed diving shirtless across the drenched floor.
“You were expected to get wet with beer at the ‘Vous,” Srour said.
Now, putting one foot on a chair in Cornerstone is enough for a bouncer to blink his flashlight in your eyes. Dan Pino, a 1982 alumnus who remembers going to the ‘Vous in the late ’70s and early ’80s, said the floor was always “a sticky mess.”
“When I went to school, everyone was wearing those Docksiders, and you’d really have to concentrate on not losing your shoes because they’d stick to the floor,” Pino said, saying that everyone had a pair of smelly ‘Vous shoes they only wore one place. He said he still owns his pair: “I’ll never give them up,” he said.
“I used to joke around and say that you could just lift your feet off the ground and let the crowd take you around for a lap,” Pino added.
Ironically, Cornerstone is known for its relatively clean wooden floors, some students said.
“I like that [Cornerstone] doesn’t smell like urine and vomit like Bentley’s,” said Reena Teichman, a senior American studies major who was indulging in Cornerstone’s “Big Ass Draft” special, which offers cheap beer served in bucket-like mugs. “I like that your shoes don’t get stuck to the floor,” her friend, senior art history major Megan Krug, added.
Not that Cornerstone hasn’t had its share of drunken nights and controversies.
“There are different headaches with Cornerstone versus the ‘Vous,” Srour said. “The ‘Vous was just really easy. You opened the doors and [students] came. Now you have to do all kinds of specials and be very creative to get these students in.”
Some of those specials have created controversy. Local officials have condemned Cornerstone’s 50-cent rails for encouraging binge drinking, and its “Ladies Lockdown” event – which served an all-girls crowd “penny pints” hours before admitting men – for ignoring the pressures women face in alcohol-related situations.
The fistfights the ‘Vous was famous for haven’t stopped completely, either. A well-publicized incident in Cornerstone’s foyer involved a melee between bar bouncers and Terrapin football players two Halloweens ago. But, Srour notes, “You can never recreate the ‘Vous.”
“The ‘Vous is in my heart. It will never leave it,” Srour said. But, he added, “Cornerstone is my baby.”
Contact reporter Kevin Rector at rectordbk@gmail.com.
