Often Dismissed by the Industry, Club Bartending Endures

It’s the first sign of real winter in New York, the kind of night where your back tightens and shivers, the hairs on your arms perk up, and it feels like you’re breathing in ice crystals and blowing out air clouds like a dragon.

It’s sharp and the wind is blowing off Lafayette and rounding the corner of Great Jones Street. A group of five 20-something girls huddle together; knee-high boots, black tights, backless tank tops, and no coats. All the girls look uniform, good looking, and sexy, sucking on NEX vapes. A large security guard wearing a skullcap and a blank stare towers behind four red velvet ropes, standing watch over an ever-growing line of rowdy New Yorkers. A woman in a camel coat lights a cigarette, slips her hair behind her left ear, and complains about her upstairs neighbor to the security guard.

“OK… girls… this group,” she motions to security with a black-leather-gloved hand to open the ropes. The five almost naked girls shriek of happiness and shuffle inside, where they will be met with a basement full of fog, small orbs of light twinkling from a giant disco ball, and the pounding bass from a DJ hitting their chest. They’ve made it, and it was worth the sacrifice.

In a room full of overstimulation — noise, lights, dancing, screaming, bottles of tequila towering high over servers’ heads, and bar backs carrying trays and trays of dirty glasses through the thick crowd — I get to stand in the true VIP section of the club, the pass of the service bar. Three bartenders in white button-downs, unbuttoned low on their chests, and clip-on suspenders weave effortlessly around each other. No one needs to say “behind.”

Preston is in the far left corner throwing a bottle of vodka in the air and catching it behind his back, flipping bottles of booze like an acrobat on Adderall. Billy is in the middle, calmly shaking a cocktail and chatting with a group of four. He looks at me and smiles, throws his suspenders at me and I put them on haphazardly — he has that group of gals wrapped around his every finger. Then there’s Russell, who casually picks up two bottles of tequila in one hand and a soda gun in the other. He makes 10 tequila sodas in seconds, takes a credit card from a guest, and hugs a regular. The bar is still six-deep — and the rush isn’t ending any time soon.

When people talk about the “craft of bartending” they usually aren’t referring to nightclubs where bartenders sling drinks into the morning light for a big group of drunk, dancing patrons, but rather the hushed, formal rooms of establishments using high-tech gear to pre-batch sleek, $30 drinks.

While the industry at large and cocktail fanatics on social media focus on outlandish, overly styled Martinis, esoteric Alpine liqueurs, specialty ice, and whatever the next new craze is, club bartenders trudge on with little recognition. But in 2026 — two decades after the “craft cocktail renaissance” — isn’t it time to give another look at club bartending? Often relegated to the underbelly of the bartending world, these talented pros fuel the industry one vodka soda at a time, showcasing the flair and hospitality that the bar world was built on.

Credit: Alex Chung

The Little-Known History of NYC Club Bartending

New York has always been known as “the city that never sleeps,” famously referencing Studio 54 during its heyday in the ’70s. But in the modern cocktail era, nightlife is often glossed over. Most don’t realize that much of the city’s cocktail history is rooted in the early 2000s club scene, birthed by the bar mentors many still look up to today.

Tim Cooper, director of advocacy for Fords Gin, could create a map of all the clubs he worked in since the late 1990s. One of the most impactful was BED NY, located on what was dubbed “bottle service block” (27th Street between 10th and 11th Avenues). BED, Home, Guesthouse, Cane, Spirit, Marquee, and, of course Bungalow 8, all lit up the night. BED was unlike any club in the area — literal beds took the place of normal tables. Though this might seem gimmicky by current industry standards, BED actually had a highly reputable bar program.

“Dale Degroff was the original consultant, there was an incredibly extensive spirits selection with over 400 bottles, and a menu consisting of 40 fresh ingredient cocktails,” Cooper says. “There wasn’t anything like it in the city at the time.”

After the swift closing of BED, Cooper found a bar gig at the Flatiron Lounge with Julie Reiner, where he “sanded out his rough edges.” Soon, Cooper would move on to help open Goldbar, a nightclub with a cocktail list curated by Greg Ramirez of Milk & Honey. In designing the list, Ramirez brought the teachings of legendary mentor Sasha Petraske: all fresh ingredients, specialty ice, and attention to detail. Similarly, one of Sam Ross’s first bartending gigs in New York City was at a club called Lotus before going on to head up iconic bars like Attaboy.

“We were on the front lines of trying to change drinking culture in NYC,” Cooper says. “Imagine having a packed bar in 2007 and at 1 a.m. having to communicate that we didn’t have any flavored vodkas.” Cooper went on to open countless clubs and bars in NYC and Long Island, but holds his time in nightlife close to his heart, saying the lifelong bonds and deep friendships are his favorite part of working in the industry.

Though the more buttoned-up establishments boast a rich history of developing the cocktail world’s most esteemed bartenders, their days working in the nightclubs are oft-forgotten amid conversations surrounding bars like the Rainbow Room. But the club’s crowded, dark spaces were essential to the quality cocktail movement as well.

Unseen Talent

“Pink Pony Club” is blaring and the girlies are screeeeeeaming. Russell swiftly picks up Fords, Campari, and Antica in one hand and free pours a perfectly balanced Negroni, garnishing it with a fat orange twist. Two weeks later I’m at Bartolo enjoying a nightcap at the bar and bragging about this perfect Negroni, while bartender A-K Hada is finishing up polishing glassware. “Being able to hold all those bottles in one hand is a thing, but the difference in the viscosity of each liquid is another, to be able to pour a perfect cocktail like that… wow.”

Though speed and flare are two key tenants of club bartending, that doesn’t mean these pros lack the skills of high-end hospitality. While many cite cash flow or three-day workweeks as reasons to get into nightlife, overwhelmingly, all the club bartenders I spoke with were concerned with customer experience first and foremost.

“I love being able to make someone feel special, beautiful, cool, or whatever they need to brighten their day. Guests can come in, feel respected, and allow us to reinforce the positive attributes they feel about themselves. And maybe highlight new ones!” says Billy Bleifer, a bartender at ACME and Lucy’s. Letting the guests gain access and connect is the realness they are searching for. Most of these nightlife bartenders have had the same regulars for years.

“Is it a stage or a cage?” Laura Stemmer recently asked me when talking about her time behind the bar at some of NYC’s most legendary nightclubs including the Cabin Down Below. She describes her time ringing in $10,000 alone on one bar station as “animal” and every night you were in the “trenches.” Opening 25 beers at once and pouring 15 vodka sodas in seconds was child’s play, and back then you had to deal with Micros.

“We were on the front lines of trying to change drinking culture in NYC. Imagine having a packed bar in 2007 and at 1 a.m. having to communicate that we didn’t have any flavored vodkas.”

Of course it’s easier to get into club-style bartending: You don’t necessarily need a ton of experience, but you need to have your wits about you. The industry is sink or swim, and a lot of people don’t make it. The capacity of a large club, the stamina you need, and just the sheer physicality of it all — most bartenders nowadays get bummed out when they have to carry a bucket of ice up the stairs. But when you finally do conquer it, you own it, you own the night, you own the bar, you own the city. For Stemmer, it was always a stage.

The Late-Night Community

The nightlife world has always been a champion of art, music, fashion, and the LGBTQ+ community. Clubs are often a haven for people, including bartenders, who are looking for an outlet for self-expression or to find like-minded people to share a drink or a dance with.

Sense of ownership is huge with bartenders, especially in nightlife, and being in control of the bar is part of the guest experience. It’s why the phrase “going to war together” is used so often and why camaraderie between staff is strong. “They are my family, they are monsters, we’ve gone through it all together.” Stemmer says, and in a nightclub you really can go through it all; trauma bonding is real. Stemmer then listed eight bartenders she’s worked with for over a decade and still continues to work with, calling them the best bartenders in the city.

The idea of no rules and all fun in a dark room with loud music where anything can happen sounds like a magical, mystical place. But it’s a very real place, with very real people, working at the highest level of their craft. These bartenders are serving cocktails with fresh juices and garnishes and built-out back bars, working faster and faster while putting on a show — and, of course, selling bottles of booze hundreds of dollars more than they are worth.

“I love being able to make someone feel special, beautiful, cool, or whatever they need to brighten their day. Guests can come in, feel respected, and allow us to reinforce the positive attributes they feel about themselves.”

For me, working at a club like ACME after years of bartending in high-end restaurants served as a good reminder that the industry should shine some attention and respect on these establishments. Club bartenders are doing what most bartenders are doing — but usually faster and with more energy.

“You need to be a seasoned vet, but not be over it like one,” says Russell West. “You start fresh every shift. I’m still excited to be here and support the team and show guests the time of their lives.” West has bartended at ACME for over 12 years and doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

The craft of nightclub bartending is just as important and relevant to the industry as bartending at a small, bespoke cocktail bar. Whether your suspenders are clip-on or sewn into the seam, they are just holding up your pants. Is there a major difference?

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