A Few Words About Gary/gaz Regan
The other night I attended a celebration of the life of Gary Regan, one of the most influential bartenders of all time, perhaps the most universally beloved figure in the drinks community, and author of, among many others, The Joy Of Mixology, which has been my go-to cocktail book since I bought it about 15 years ago. I haven’t got a whole lot of cocktail mojo, but most of what I have is thanks to that book.
There are many, many eloquent tributes to Gary (aka gaz) online by people who knew him far better than I did, but I’m compelled to throw in my two cents, because even though I didn’t know him well, knowing him at all meant a lot to me. I first met him in 2005, right after his Regan’s Orange Bitters had come out. I hadn’t started writing about booze yet but he welcomed me into the still-nascent drinks community with open arms.
I’m far from the only booze writer to have a case of impostor syndrome, but my particular strain is particularly nasty and virulent. It reared its ugly head in 2012, when I found myself in Rio covering the Diageo World Class bartending competition. I hardly knew anyone and went from event to event feeling like a total fraud, wondering what the hell I was doing there. But as soon as gaz saw me, his face lit up. “Tony Sachs!” he exclaimed in his trademark croaking bark, and gave me a hug. Holy shit, I thought, he’s actually happy to see me! Or else he’s putting on a very convincing act. But I chose to believe him. And the next day, when I found myself drinking aguardiente with gaz, fellow legend Angus Winchester, and a couple of other writers at the Academia de Cachaça, I thought, damn, maybe I do belong here.
Every time gaz and I saw each other — which sadly wasn’t too often — his effusiveness always made me feel validated in some way. I mean, if Gary Regan thinks I’m OK, how bad can I be? And I never quite got over that awestruck feeling I had the first time I met him, although it was certainly through no fault of his. He may have been a rock star in the drinks world, but he certainly didn’t act like it.
Gaz was a good person, a kind person, a wickedly funny person, and it seems like he left a lasting impression on just about everyone he met. He and I were never best buddies, but I do miss him.