>Stephen Schneidau is a zealous man. Or an arrogant man. Or just a man with a strong sense of history. Whichever of those applies, Schneidau and 12 friends and family members are attempting to resuscitate a piece of Houston nightlife lore: The Gallant Knight (2511 Bissonnet).
Larami Culbertson
Be chivalrous when waiting for a drink at The Gallant Knight.
2511 Bissonnet
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"I don't know if it's an institution," says Schneidau, "but it's definitely a part of Houston history, and we all felt the same way. We all wanted to preserve it."
Given the cachet the first Knight carried, re-creating the place seems like a tall order. Originally located in West University/Old Braeswood, the Knight was one of Houston's most beloved venues for decades before closing in 2006. Basically, it was a ratty house someone decided to call a bar, but it was also the in-the-know R&B hangout in the city.
It was tiny and somewhat dilapidated, perpetually crammed senseless with people and smoke. The ceiling seemed to be about six inches from your head; it was the kind of place that makes fire marshals wake up in a cold sweat.
So when word began to spread that a new Gallant Knight was opening — Schneidau et al purchased the Gallant Knight brand from former owner Monroe Wilkins a couple of years ago, but waited for a location near the original to open up — there was a feeling of both excitement and foreboding.
The most obvious pitfall would have been the new Knight attempting to piggyback the old one's aura by re-creating it entirely — an uninspired retread. Conversely, paying too little attention to what made the old bar so much fun would have brought complaints the new owners were taking the name and little else.
Fortunately, they played it very well.
Schneidau's group brought over a few knick-knacks that frequenters of the original will appreciate: the front door, that big "Gallant Knight Live Jazz" sign, even Cynthia the bartender. They also re-created the living-room area. The new Knight has so far attracted the same wildly eclectic crowd.
But they've upgraded too. The venue itself is much larger, maybe two-and-a-half to three times the size of the old one — helping the fire marshals rest easier, no doubt — and the bands have a proper stage. It's considerably easier to get your hands on a drink. About the only real complaint voiced by customers is about the new "who do you know?" door policy.
"At the old Gallant Knight, you didn't have to name-drop to get inside," says a man identifying himself as Noah. "You stood in line, you got in. It's a younger generation now, I guess."
Of course, what's most obviously missing is soul singer extraordinaire Sammie Relford, the man who (arguably) guided the original to prominence and now runs his own spot downtown, The Real Sammie (711 Franklin).
The band onstage today, Klockwork, is good, but even cumulatively the members don't generate as much energy as Sammie (to be fair, the sun probably doesn't generate as much energy either). And at the moment, the dense mass of people on the Knight's dance floor doesn't seem to mind Sammie's absence much.
Attempting to reboot something that was so meaningful to so many people seems like a tough sell. But the new Knight manages to balance wistful nostalgia with the changing times. Here's to another 30-something years of soulful good times.
LAST CALL
Cool little tidbit: An office building located next to the new Knight is owned by a gentleman named Bob Ryan. Typically, Ryan is not a fan of leasing out his parking lot for nighttime use (lots of businesses near nightclubs do this). However, he leased his out to Stephen Schneidau at a sweetheart deal — not because Schneidau has a strong handshake or a winning smile (though he does), but because Ryan recognized Schneidau as the son of the man who gave him a job when he needed one some decades ago. Karma, yo. Treat people right.
