By early evening on Saturday, Jan. 25, the scene at Ivanhoe Village staple and LGBTQ+ haven the Hammered Lamb had a distinctly party-at-the-end-of-the-world feel to it, complete with a soundtrack that jumped in delightful chaos from 1980s Cher singles to Christina Aguilera to ringtone rap to nü-metal. (And back.) People were everywhere, tightly packed in, dancing, laughing, drinking and crying. It felt like the end of an era.
This particular party had been raging since the familiar weekend brunch festivities early in the day. The party continued into happy hour and would stretch through the night — and then the party would be over for good. Saturday, you see, was both the 12th anniversary celebration and the last hurrah for this storied spot.
Open since 2013, this Ivanhoe Village staple drew in Orlandoans with over-the-top brunch dishes, Bloody Marys that consistently topped Best of Orlando™ Readers Polls, drag shows, train shots, late nights and high-energy events hosted on the sprawling patio. Beyond the party atmosphere, though, the Lamb was a safe haven for the local LGBTQ+ community, and the bar gave back to the community in kind, donating space, time, spirits and funds as needed to seemingly countless grassroots organizations and progressive candidates.
But times had been tough at the Lamb for the last couple of years. Though it had weathered the storm of COVID, a seemingly eternal road construction project shut down and effectively blocked off stretches of Orange Avenue along the main drag of Ivanhoe Village, making it difficult, if not impossible, to access Hammered Lamb and many of their neighbors. Then an unfortunate error in the Orlando Sentinel ascribed a host of restaurant health and safety violations and an ordered shutdown to the Lamb, rather than the restaurant that actually incurred the violations (Ethos Vegan Kitchen, which was once located in the space). Fundraisers were held and regulars rallied, while the staff and owner Jason Lambert remained optimistic they would weather the storm.
Then Hammered Lamb announced their abrupt and very imminent closure last Monday on social media. True to form — and Sinatra lyrics — they were going to go out their way: with one last marathon weekend party.
Things kicked off with the final brunch in the early afternoon. The spot was bustling despite the chill of actual winter in the air. The crowd was a mix of regulars, staff families and local elected officials, all showing up to raise a glass to the legendary venue. There were plenty of hugs, a never-ending flow of drinks, and even a few tears from those who couldn’t imagine Orlando without it. Blue Star gave a touching toast to the afternoon crowd, adding a special note of sentiment to the festivities, while live entertainment kept the vibe lively and nostalgic. But conversations over drinks also had an undercurrent of frustrations — frustration over losing another queer space in a city that already has too few.
Many stayed on as the sun set and Remeice the DJ started spinning an eclectic set that took in pop hits across decades slamming up against one another. Inside and out, the bar was packed with folks dancing, drinking and reminiscing.
“It’s the end of an era. I’m sad. I’m just sad. There’s always good times here,” said reveler Tyler Mann, who showed up in a distressed Hammered Lamb T-shirt with a group of friends. “Everybody knows everybody, or it feels like they do. Everybody loves each other, that’s the biggest thing.” He then told us we looked like someone from Bring Me the Horizon, so it was time to move on.
Weaving past a person with long hair, several hats and a white, sequined floor-length coat, we ran into Heather Wilkie from the Zebra Coalition. “Tonight has been overwhelmingly sad, but also beautiful because this community came together and celebrated a safe space that has been so important to our queer community,” she said. “Jason Lambert has done such an amazing job here, we’re sad it has to end. I worry about our future. What’s going to happen next? What’s going to close next? We spent years building spaces like this up and it’s so sad to see it go away. … Jason Lambert has been so supportive of the queer community and he knows who we are. He’s given beyond this space — he supports all of the community.”
Stepping out on the sidewalk to get a momentary respite from “Genie in a Bottle” cranked to 11, we talked to Nikki Price, a former employee who came back to see the place one last time. “It’s emotional. Overwhelming. Sad. I came from Jacksonville — I don’t live here anymore — just to be a part of something I helped grow,” Price said. “I wanted to say goodbye to something that has inspired me so much. Being a part of this community was so important. I’ve never felt the level of community I’ve felt here, ever.”
There was a constant blur of motion and people around owner Jason Lambert, but we finally made our way over to him. He was very candid about how he’s feeling.
“It’s been great, but it’s been very bittersweet. I’m feeling sad and depressed,” Lambert said. “We’ve done so much here the last 12 years, but I feel like I failed, I’ve failed the city. But then, the city failed us too. For a whole entire year the street was shut down, and I reached out to so many elected officials and I got crickets. I feel like the city should have done a better job of managing it and putting it together. When COVID happened we got federal funding to help us; when this happened we didn’t get shit.”
As the night stretched on, alcohol and mixers started running out, and the crowd thinned out a bit though night owls kept entering. But the DJ kept playing, the bartenders kept pouring whatever was left, and the people lingered.
If it felt like the end of an era, not just one singular space, that’s because it very much was. The community Lambert and his team fostered in Orlando lives well beyond the Lamb’s walls, and that community will keep on working to better the city.
The Hammered Lamb, as you read this, is in the final stages of an “everything must go” sale of kitchen and bar equipment, ending Wednesday.
