If you know you know: Danny Deutsch—the longtime music promoter with Energizer Bunny moves. Abilene Bar & Lounge—a musical Mecca housed in a narrow nineteenth-century house in downtown Rochester, the one with the bold Ukrainian flag.
On a Friday night visit to Abilene, the flag flaps slowly in the breeze (Deutsch raised it the day the war started), and the front door is wide open. At 4 p.m. the bar is filling up with Abilene’s regulars waiting for the Occasional Saints, a New Orleans–flavored blues and swing band. Soon Tracy Mykins works the door as more OS fans arrive. Behind the bar, Raven Strong, artist by day, bartender by night, serves up beer, cocktails, whiskey neat, or THC seltzer to people of all ages and walks of life. Danny Deutsch is expected sometime soon. He’s never far away from his beloved bar.
Deutsch’s love affair with music began early. He remembers “the good seats at big shows” at the then War Memorial, where his father was director.
“I saw Jethro Tull, the Grateful Dead, the Harlem Globetrotters, and Barnum & Bailey Circus,” says Deutsch. “I was always interested in entertainment.”
Sure, he tried college—Buffalo State and Hiram, Ohio, where he majored in English—but he was “never that focused.” When Deutsch returned to Rochester, he took a job at Record Theatre, a prominent record store chain. “I worked with some great people, real titans in the retail business.”
He also discovered in the late 1970s that he was a natural when it came to booking live music. He helped Scorgie’s, the iconic Andrews Street venue that snagged music legends from John Lee Hooker to the Ramones for its basement stage. He promoted shows at Jazzberry’s, a 1980s nightclub.
In 1981, Deutsch began his longest-running gig, selling ads for Freetime entertainment magazine. While he stayed for some twenty-three years, he was never far from the music scene.
“I kept my hands in promotion,” says Deutsch. “I never married. No kids.” Those facts afforded him the time he needed to help his aging parents. “It was one of the most tremendous and time-consuming experiences, navigating assisted living for my father,” he says. “He lived to almost 91.”
In 2007, when Tara, a gay nightclub at 153 Liberty Pole Way, closed, he jumped at the chance to create his very own “dive bar.” The historic building, erected in the 1850s, had been part of the then Flour City milling industry and a rumored nineteenth-century brothel.
He worked to ensure Abilene would be welcomed by his neighbors on Liberty Pole Way. “Midge Thomas, at 98, is a true force of nature,” says Deutsch, who charmed the philanthropist and widower of Dr. Freddie Thomas, who owned a great deal of property around his bar. A year later he opened Abilene, named after one of his favorite songs by alt-rocker Dave Alvin. (Years later, to his surprise, Alvin, in town for a gig, knocked on the door for an afternoon visit.)
His goals for Abilene were modest: “I wanted a corner saloon with a great jukebox and a pool table.” He also wanted a bar that wouldn’t keep him up all night, so doors closed at 11 p.m.
Soon his past caught up with him. Even before he installed a stage, Deutsch invited music into a corner of his little dive bar, and the names were big.
Within a few years, Abilene gained a national and international reputation through word of mouth and a judicious use of social media. You can find Abilene on the German website Speiskarte that describes Abilene’s lassig, i.e., casual vibe, and its Getränke, aka drink menu. Most recently, Abilene hosted a rockabilly group, Lovesick, from Bologna, Italy, on an American tour.
The roster of notables on the Abilene stage grew to include Dale Watson, Hayes Carll, the Spampinato Brothers, Jonathan Richman, J. D. McPherson, Amy Lavere, Eilen Jewell, Bill Kirchen, the Hi Risers and the Lustre Kings. On other nights, newcomers to the stage are given space to shine.
“I’m constantly in awe of the great music locally. The wealth of home talent in the area is mind-blowing,” says Deutsch. “The local schools have great programs. City school music programs are tremendous incubators of talent, and [the students] often go on to make a living through music.”
Eighteen years after opening, it’s not just the melodies of country, bluegrass, alt, folk, blues, zydeco, or rockabilly music that draw a loyal crowd to the “all ages venue” (under twenty-one pays a surcharge), but the atmosphere. On some nights it really feels like a place where everyone knows your name. Any physical contact seen are the copious hugs at the door and the moves on the dance floor.
“I’ve never had a fight at the bar in [all the years] it’s been open,” Deutsch reports.
Beyond live music, Deutsch invited Emily Morrey, historical researcher in Monroe County Library’s Local History and Genealogical Division for a “Storied Saloons—Local History Happy Hour.” The bar hosted Tara Club reunions that raised funds for Trillium Health, a center that specializes in care for the LGBTQ+ community. Every year Abilene celebrates Johnny Cash or the anniversaries of famous albums (Willie Nelson’s Red Headed Stranger or the first four Byrds albums). On some dates, music takes a backseat to building community, perfectly illustrating the bar’s ethos.
In March, Abilene’s Facebook page announced an open forum: “In these highly polarized and uncertain political times, a lot of us feel lost and don’t know where to turn. Some of us fear that our democracy is under attack. Some of us fear what might happen to friends, family, and members of our community who are ostracized, bullied, and threatened because of their status as citizens, their religious beliefs, sexual orientation, and lifestyle. I do think it’s high time we come together, share thoughts, and connect.” The event filled Abilene with people who wanted to discuss their fears or learn ways to get involved with area activist groups like GRIT (Greater Rochester Integrity and Truth) and Indivisible. When Deutsch wants an even bigger party, he takes “Abilene on the Road,” bringing music to nearby Temple Theater.
Deutsch lives for the nights when Abilene is packed and other nights when there’s extra room. “It’s not the smartest business model, but it’s a labor of love,” he says, praising his “tremendous team of bartenders” who have stayed for years except “the two I lost to nursing,” he adds, laughing, or “great sound people” and “the customers that have become friends.”
“During the pandemic we had to shut down,” says Deutsch. “I got choked up to see the outpouring from my audience, my customers. Men and women would send me money, they’d Venmo, they’d write me, ‘You’ve got to survive.’”
The evening the Occasional Saints played, Deutsch sat in a circle of friends on Abilene’s outdoor patio. “The patio is a big draw. We’re right downtown. You can see the old Sibley Building and St. Joseph’s spire. When it’s lit up, I feel like I’m in Brooklyn or Austin. I’m a huge supporter of downtown Rochester. Despite the critics, it’s incredibly vibrant: the Little, Redd, Mercantile on Main, and Eastman Theatre. There are wonderful things to do.”
Despite the global reputation, Deutsch remains modest about Abilene; send him an email and his return signature reads “Danny Deutsch, Lowly Saloon Owner.” “There’s nowhere else I’d want to be on earth than Abilene,” Deutsch says. Lucky for him, a whole lotta people feel the same way. abilenebarandlounge.com
This article originally appeared in the July/August 2025 issue of (585).
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