BARTENDER CELEBRATES 60 YEARS

WEST VIEW, Pa. (AP) -- Beer is to sell, not to drink.

That motto has served Angelo Cammarata well for the more than 60 years
he has given faithful patrons cold brew, a sympathetic ear and a joke
or two in his homey ``shot and a beer'' tavern.

At 85, Cammarata, or ``Camm'' as his customers and neighbors
affectionately call him, has been anointed the world's oldest
bartender by the Guinness Book of World Records.

``I don't know how much longer the good Lord will keep me here,''
Cammarata said, sipping ``just plain old Pepsi'' and nattily dressed
in a striped shirt, blue tie and light blue cardigan sweater
reminiscent of TV's Mr. Rogers. ``I retired 20 years ago, but my boys
won't let me quit.''

His sons, John and Frank, officially run Cammarata's, a simple brick,
two-story tavern in suburban Pittsburgh with 10-cent chicken wings
every Monday, a cheeseburger with thick, greasy fries for $3.65 and a
big-screen TV and a jukebox in the back room.

But Cammarata, who lives in the apartment upstairs with his wife,
Mary, still tends bar a few hours each day, particularly for the
after-work crowd. The Guinness distinction, awarded in January, isn't
just that he tends bar at his age -- it's that he has done so
continuously since he was 19.

He watched televised reports of Neil Armstrong walking on the moon in
1969 from behind his U-shaped bar. He was buying produce for the bar
in Pittsburgh's Strip District when the world learned that President
Kennedy had been shot in 1963.

He has commiserated with customers suffering from strained marriages,
troubled children, depleted bank accounts and overbearing bosses.

``I got an education in the bar,'' he said. ``You do become a kind of
psychologist. You have to know your customer.

``One time many years ago, I told my priest that I considered my job
almost like his. I listen to their problems, and I don't tell anyone
else what they tell me,'' he said.

Cammarata looks more like a grandfather in his 60s than a world-record
holder because of his age and occupation. He said he likes a highball
now and then, but he took his father's advice to sell beer rather than
drink it.

He first stepped behind a bar in 1933, minutes after Prohibition was
repealed. His father, Catino Cammarata, didn't want a minute to go by
before he started serving beer and liquor in the family's grocery
store and ice-cream parlor.

That first day, Cammarata's offered two 12-ounce brews for a nickel. A
few customers came in with quarters to get the most out of the special.

``A quarter wasn't to be laughed at in those days'' of the Great
Depression, he said.

The tavern has only ever served beer and shots; its blue-collar crowd
doesn't go for Pink Ladies or Manhattans.

Cammarata worked for his father until he joined the U.S. Navy in 1943
for a 29-month tour of duty in World War II. His father died during
the war; when he returned, he and his three brothers took over the
tavern.

Cammarata eventually became the sole proprietor as the grocery and
dairy businesses were dropped.

He moved to West View in 1954. He had learned that the original
Cammarata's would be torn down to make way for a shopping center, and
he found a tavern for sale in the working-class suburb with an
apartment on the second floor to house his family.

Glenn Bezilla, 39, first walked into Cammarata's when he was a child.
Like his deceased father, Chuck, he is one of Camm's regulars, and he
said the tavern is as comfortable as home.

``I like to stop in and say hello to Angelo,'' Bezilla said. ``Ang and
my dad went to church together, and he's been a good part of our
family. I started coming here all the time the minute I could get in
legally.''

Cammarata's longevity behind the bar has brought him other
accolades.

He was inducted into Bartender Magazine's Bartenders' Hall of Fame in
1987. Four years earlier, on the tavern's 50th anniversary, the
Allegheny County Commission signed a proclamation declaring April 7,
1983, ``Angelo Cammarata Day,'' and the original document with its
tattered edges remains tacked on a wall above a cigarette vending
machine in the bar.

``People in West View have asked him to run for mayor,'' said his son,
John. ``But he always says no. He says 'I don't want to mix my
business with politics.'''

He broke that rule once, successfully lobbying to do business on Super
Bowl Sunday without buying a Sunday liquor license.

State law had allowed exceptions if New Year's Day and St. Patrick's
Day fall on Sundays. Four years ago Cammarata asked for the change,
which lawmakers approved last year.

``I don't want to be open 52 Sundays. Sunday is our family day. I just
want to be open for the most important sports event in this country,''
he said.

He nearly gave it up in 1972. His children were settled in their adult
lives, and he sold the bar, planning to retire. He worked for the new
owner in the bar with a new name -- Zipia's. His sons bought it back
in 1975.

``We're a tight family,'' John Cammarata said. ``Frank and I wanted to
keep the family business going.''

At that, Cammarata gave his son an affectionate pat on the
shoulder.

``I've seen bartenders come and go,'' Cammarata said. ``I raised my
four children, and put them all through college. I could have gotten a
job somewhere else, but I'm plenty satisfied with what I've got.''