Remembering their heyday: Rich Mozal & Sandy’s Clam Bar

By Mark Frost, Chronicle Editor

I’m saddened by the death at the age of 73 of my lifelong pal Rich Mozal [mo-zell], but I smile at the thought of him.

Richie operated Sandy’s Clam Bar on the corner of South Street and Elm. When Richie took the reins from his father Joe, the place was edgy. South Street’s “Street of Dreams” nickname was sarcastic. Richie reveled in the rough, down-and-out reputation.

“We haven’t had anybody killed in here in over 30 years,” he liked to tell people.

The bar’s logo was a fist punching out of a clamshell.

Everything about Sandy’s was sort of tongue in cheek, like the “Café Sandu Club Entrance” at the back door.

Joe marveled at what Richie, a Siena College grad, made of the place. He said to me one day, “Mark, he’s making all sorts of changes, but they seem to work.”

Rich turned Sandy’s Clam Bar into the gathering place, the common ground of Glens Falls. People from every walk of life gravitated there. It’s where you went to see and be seen.

Rich booked tons of live bands. The region’s nightlife orbited Sandy’s. People who might not know anything else about Glens Falls knew about Sandy’s Clam Bar, knew it was a hot spot. It was fun!

One July night when you could barely move or hear the person standing next to you, I vividly remember Richie telling me: “No, you can’t do business in downtown Glens Falls in the summertime.”

Back then, of course, there was no ban on cigarette smoking. After I met my future wife Sandra in 1987, she mandated that after a night (without her) at Sandy’s, my clothes were to go directly to the washing machine before I ventured up the stairs. (Alas, Sandra cut my bar days short.)

My link to Richie went way back.

We grew up around the corner from each other, but I was Glens Falls, he was St. Mary’s. I didn’t know him until one summer we happened to both take driver’s ed in the summertime with Mr. Haag. Sitting in the back seat when it was someone else’s turn to drive, you get a sense if you’re on the same wavelength. We were.

In those days, we Frosts organized a carnival to benefit the American Cancer Society in our backyard on the first day of school, which was a half-day, the Wednesday after Labor Day. My mother baked a billion cupcakes. My brother Rich created the carnival. I turned it into a juggernaut by approaching businesses like Animal Land, which brought a chimp and pony, and Ray’s Beverage, the Ward 5 independent, which donated an unbelievable amount of soda in long-neck returnable bottles in heavy wooden cases.

Anyway, it turned out Rich Mozal remembered those carnivals. Decades later he brought it up to me one night at Sandy’s Clam Bar. “I want you to know,” he said, “I’m still mad at you for not letting me run the pony ride.”

Like a lot of stalwart Glens Fallsians, Richie treasured the shared understanding, the well-placed quip.

Last October, my son Zander and I were in Baltimore for the Orioles’ first playoff game vs. the Texas Rangers. Just before first pitch, my cell phone rang.

It was Richie. “Mark, I just want you to know I’m pulling for your Orioles.”

He didn’t know we were there. We hadn’t spoken in many months. But my Orioles and I were on his mind.

Just as Richie — and Sandy’s Clam Bar in its heyday — won’t ever stop being on my mind. Thankful for the memories.

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