Goodbye, Austin A.V. Club

In more "oh shit, that ain't there no more?" news, Austin will lose yet another facet of its character when the Austin A.V. Club goes dark Thursday. In case you care, the physical paper will shrink and undergo a slight redesign, but I bet the ads will still be local. Just all of the local editorial content will be gone. You know, the Austiny shit like previews of local shows and photos of restaurants and tiny blurbs about the food one can get there.

I don't talk about it much, but the Austin A.V. Club was one of the first places in this tiny town to give me work when I first got here, back in late 2007. In 2008 I started photographing local restaurants to go along with the reviews I'd been writing along with features like this one called Ringing Endorsement with Jesse Dayton.

It didn't pay much, but I got so much out of the experience. I met a ton of amazing people and went to so many clubs, trailers, diners, and swanky joints. I photographed well over 200 restaurants all over Austin, some of which aren't there any more, and some of which have flourished. Calling ahead to say you're coming in to photograph a place for The Onion can really make a restaurant lose their shit. Once on assignment, I ran into Billy Bob Thornton at the AIBA. The Austin A.V. Club was always sharply written and keenly edited and it sucks that we have less of it to read now - in print and online. Newspapers have been slowly dying for what feels like forever, but killing a website feels even emptier than buying and reading the ever-smaller Sunday paper.

Here's the copy of the Jesse Dayton story.

Veronica Mays, Jesse Dayton, Kay Mays
by Alexandra Richmond August 21, 2008


Though he’s most comfortable playing regular gigs at the Broken Spoke and Continental Club, Americana artist Jesse Dayton has seen the world several times over. Still, to this sixth-generation Texan, there’s nothing like coming home to Sam’s Bar-B-Que. For more than 30 years, Sam’s has thrived on simplicity, serving generous helpings of tender meat, pickles, and white bread to sop up its signature sauce without unnecessary adornment. That formula has made it a favorite among locals and touring musicians: Check out the wall of autographed photos ranging from Bruce Springsteen to Bushwick Bill. Here, Dayton fills us in on what makes Sam’s so special.
Jesse Dayton: I first heard about Sam’s from Clifford Antone when I was a kid. The first time I ate there, I was 20 years old, and it was 1:30 a.m. after taking it deep on some cocktails at the Continental. Me and the two guys I went with ordered a pound of ribs, a pound of brisket, and a pound of sausage with beans and potato salad on the side, and they just dumped it all out on our table on butcher’s paper. Sam’s is more like Southern barbecue than Texas “ranch style.” The sauce is amazing, and the sausage is so moist and tender that you don’t need teeth to eat it, and you can smell it down 12th Street before you get there! It’s something that I’d definitely eat after the show, but never before. This is heavy Southern cuisine—for a pre-show meal, you can’t go crazy—and it sticks to your ribs big time. I miss it when I’m on the road. Many, many times we drive our bus right up to the door of Sam’s when we get back to Austin. It’s our reward for making it home in one piece. Supposedly Stevie Ray Vaughan had it flown all over the place to his gigs when he was touring a bunch. Also, I love Sam, the owner. Sam’s gotta be in his 70s at this point, so his kids run the place most of the time. They’re a whole family of sweethearts who never give anything less than full-on Southern hospitality. I also love that Sam’s Bar-B-Que is perfect as-is. This ain’t the kind of stuff that you try to “doctor up,” but I usually ask for plenty of jalapeños on the side. Oh yeah, and of course some onions!

Sam’s Bar-B-Que: 2000 E. 12th St., 478-0378