Experience 24 hours on Glenwood South, the Raleigh district with the raucous reputation

The air hangs heavy with bubblegum-flavored vape mist as the bars close on Glenwood South, sending the patrons staggering outside to slump over whatever stable objects they can find — a recycling bin, a parked car, their own knees.

In this Friday-night exodus, one reveler in a tank top loses his hat in the middle of the street, topples over and sprawls in front of a taxi. Another unlucky bar-goer has his Chrysler towed away while he sits in the front seat.

Raleigh’s favored party zone is lined with police officers on motorcycles, but just past 2 a.m., one man urinates openly into the bushes behind Mellow Mushroom. Another relieves himself in the middle of Glenwood while facing Armadillo Grill, fully exposed for a whole minute.

“Are you OK?” a passerby asks.

“Hell no,” he replies.

The six-hour stretch between midnight and dawn represents the ugly half of Glenwood Avenue’s Jekyll-and-Hyde character, the side that dominates its reputation — perhaps unfairly.

To provide the fullest picture of the district, The News & Observer’s journalists spent 24 hours there from 8 a.m. Friday, July 21, to 8 a.m. Saturday, July 22, watching it turn from peaceful to raucous and back again — a cycle that repeats itself daily.

In a few hours after last-call, the empty beer cans and cigarette butts will get swept away, making way for the Cupcake Shoppe to start serving cinnamon rolls.

Graffiti will get scrubbed off the wall before the dog-walkers stroll past with their schnauzers.

The spot where a late-night bar-goer lost his dinner under a bus stop bench will get treated with disinfectant before it can offend anyone walking past with a yoga mat.

The same four blocks that reek of spilled beer will smell of basil and fish sauce outside Anise Pho, or fresh Margherita sauce outside DeMo’s Pizza, and 73-year-old Diane Griffin will watch a new day unfold from a park bench outside Glenwood Towers.

“They’re young,” she said, shrugging off the late-night crowd. “We were young, too.”

Glenwood South stretches only five blocks between Hillsborough and Peace streets, but has garnered perhaps more attention than any other section of Raleigh in recent years. Just last week, state alcohol agents charged five employees from Botanical Lounge and Armadillo Grill after a search warrant turned up cocaine and marijuana being sold out of the restaurants.

Complaints ring out regularly from City Hall public hearings to North Carolina First Lady Kristin Cooper’s neighborhood listserv, where she described Glenwood South partiers as “feral” after a man tried to kick down the door of her private home at 3 a.m.

“This place is like night and day,” said Anthony DeMarco, who owns DeMo’s. “The growth has just been exponential since we started here. The whole city and downtown area has exploded. And we’ve been here for all of it.”

8:21 a.m. Friday — Growth worries at Glenwood Towers

One of the tallest buildings along Glenwood South serves neither margaritas nor eggs Benedict, but rather houses 14 stories full of senior citizens — all of them earning less than 80% of the median income.

Glenwood Towers predates the boutiques and the cocktail bars, and on most days, its elderly residents set up folding chairs in the parking lot near the bus stop, or simply watch the scenery from their wheelchairs.

On a hot July morning, 72-year-old Niemen Cardozo takes her morning stroll — an easy walk to the pharmacy at North Street, or the Publix grocery a few blocks down Peace Street.

But she doesn’t go at night. Too many drunks — especially since the pandemic.

“Things changed,” she said.

In an hour, about 80 of her neighbors in Glenwood Towers will get a call from Raleigh’s food bank announcing their monthly groceries have arrived, and they will move slowly downstairs on their walkers.

There is worry among them on this Friday. Often, only one elevator is working in the towers. Noise from Glenwood construction is already starting to fill the air around breakfast time.

In this stretch of hot real estate, where far-younger crowds flock to spend money, how long will they be welcome?

“I’m worried that at some point, the city’s going to say ‘Yeah, we’re going to sell this,’” said Catherine Anderson, a coordinator with the Food Bank of Central and Eastern NC. “And these folks, I have no idea where they would go.”

—Reported by staff writers Makiya Seminera and Brian Gordon

11:25 a.m. Friday — Busy building what comes next

Along the 300 block, Jared Rosenau parks his pickup and surveys what will soon become the street’s largest outdoor patio — a whopping 3,600 square feet.

As the manager for Carolina Design and Construction, he’s overseeing the street’s face-lift, replacing what had been Vickers & Ruth plumbing and Devolve Moto, a now-defunct shop for motorcycle gear.

The new 7,000 square-foot tavern his crews are building represents a combined effort between two owners of Glenwood’s most popular night spots — Cornerstone Tavern, Alchemy and Milk Bar among them. But in its half-finished state, it doesn’t have a name.

“They’ll probably hold a contest to decide,” Rosenau jokes.

An hour later, Reuben Stecker, the firm’s vice president, stops by the construction site and quickly dismisses Glenwood’s reputation for bad behavior.

“These businesses have faces,” he said. “There are 500 employees making a good living, working here. I would have no problem bringing my 5-year-old out here at 9 o’clock on a Friday night. They won’t be here at 11 o’clock because they’re going to be in bed.”

As the work continues, Rosenau shows off a pair of souvenirs from his drafting table: a brick and a section of steel rail from Raleigh’s bygone streetcar line. Contractors found it hidden under 6 inches of asphalt a few months back and divvied up their prize 10 ways.

“It’s a little piece of Raleigh history,” Rosenau said, marveling at the relics in his hand. “It gives me hope.”

—Reported by staff writer Chantal Allam

2:17 p.m. Friday — Escape rooms and footless Reva

Inside Revolver, a Glenwood shopper can browse a sprawling collection of sequinned dresses, leather pants and gold necklaces — all of them used, all of them advertised by a sidewalk mannequin named Reva, who is missing her right foot.

Reva greets customers in blue jeans, a purple bandanna and oversized sunglasses, part of the rotating ensemble she displays in part because none of the other mannequins possess both a head and a body.

“We almost retired her when we moved her, because she is falling apart,” said Susannah Edlund, retail associate. “She loses limbs on the daily. “I literally went out last night and told people where I worked, and they were like ‘Oh is that the one with the creepy mannequin outside?’ and I said, ‘Yeah, that’s the one.”

Glenwood is best known for half-pound burgers and $5 Fireball shots, but the street shows a colorful side through the dozen-odd painters, printmakers and jewelry artists who found a home along the strip. The dull brick walls increasingly show off hand-painted murals the size of houses, including Sprinkles the Bobcat, who sports a crown on his left paw.

Few know that Glenwood South now features a row of three “escape rooms,” in which groups of people join forces to solve puzzles together and “escape.” Each house features puzzles and props built by the staff in a garage down the street.

Haunted-house music plays while Andew Butenko shows off one of the puzzles, called Dracula, which involves being locked in a wooden cage in a room lit only by flickering candles.

Another puzzle, called City With No Sun, places players in a totally dark room and challenges them to escape using every sense except sight. This fall, when schools reopen, blind students will be offered a chance to play for free.

For Butenko, the atmosphere created by local businesses with a stake in Raleigh’s future, makes the Glenwood strip attractive.

“People live here,” he said. “They work here, they create really cool things.”

—Reported by staff writers Brianna Atkinson and Avi Bajpai

5:18 p.m. Friday — 30 years old and not out too late

As the workday ends, the dress code on Glenwood shifts to a going-out-tonight gear, and the street exhales a long, just-off-work breath as the scenery starts to change.

A few dozen grab beers at Hibernian Pub or Carolina Ale House, and the music plays softly enough to hear conversations without shouting. Across the street, a customer at Tesoro Hair Design steps outside to smoke a cigarette, a salon cap still on her head.

Brian Schulker, 30, rounds the corner with his dog on a leash, and he mentions a preference for Smoky Hollow, the nearby sleek, rebuilt mixture of office space, smoothie bars, wine and cocktails near his apartment. But at 30, he doesn’t venture into the late-night vortex gaining strength around the corner.

“Sometimes I think, as I get older, I don’t want to go out any time past 11 p.m.,” Schulker said. “There’s a lot of places for people that want to live over here that aren’t crazy.”

A few blocks away, Bigfoot Taphouse counts as one of them.

It closes at midnight.

—Reported by staff writers Luciana Perez Uribe Guinassi and Steven Matthews

10:17 p.m. Friday — Bad Bunny, Kesha and the Raleigh Rose King

The noise reaches a near-deafening level on Glenwood between the motorcycles revving their engines, a street musician playing drums on a pair of overturned buckets, an evangelist shouting through a microphone and songs from Bad Bunny pouring out of one bar while Kesha blasts from another.

The crowd is thick enough that even people who can walk a straight line find it difficult to navigate the sidewalks without maneuvering around each other.

Inside the bars that line Glenwood, people take simultaneous shots at Pearl & Peril, drinkers play giant chess at Pine Street Public House and a party bus painted black pulls up at Cornerstone, unloading more fun seekers.

“Is that my boy?” asks a voice in the crowd.

“That IS our boy!” comes the answer.

A group of friends celebrates at Wonderland Kitchen and Cocktails, dressed in pink cowgirl-themed outfits, arriving in a limo to celebrate a divorce.

Meanwhile, a man calling himself Raleigh Rose King sells flowers out of a bucket. He explains the scene’s appeal.

“Glenwood Avenue is beautiful and whatnot,” he says, showing silver teeth. “It’s the energy of Raleigh.”

Down the street, Carl Wells works as a doorman at Peggy’s Whiskey & Cocktails, sporting sparkling red loafers and a matching bow tie.

“We have really good deals on Guinness and, I don’t know, just a really good atmosphere,” he says. “Like it makes you want to come out and tour the sights. If you’re coming out on the weekend, I definitely say sit upstairs, because it’s really good people-watching stuff.”

On a nearby corner, Dana Franklin sells hot dogs from his stand, and the bar-hoppers grab them in foil wrappers.

After midnight, Franklin warns, his business really takes off. People want bread to soak up the liquor.

—Reported by staff writers Elizabeth Egan and Andrea Tamayo

12:54 a.m. Saturday — ‘Lamp back on the table, please!’

As last call approaches, a dozen noisy 30-something patrons burst into Peggy’s and sprawl across multiple tables, the bar and a couch — ordering old fashioneds and Manhattans with ice.

Two of them start a mock sword fight with one of Peggy’s table lamps, then they pass the small light around the group in a new game they’ve invented, which the bartender interrupts.

“Lamp back on the table, please!”

With their fun cut short, one man in the group begins reciting Edgar Allen Poe’s poem “Nevermore,” which he fumbles. So one half of the group begins debating the proper use of semicolons while the other discusses the merits of military service.

Outside, a girl in a long white dress runs out in front of traffic in pursuit of a friend on the other side of Glenwood. A Corvette drives by, revving its engine.

But then the night winds down, and police motorcycles ride slowly down Glenwood with their red and blue lights flashing. Crowds of bar-goers at closing time wait on the sidewalks while Ubers and Lyfts dart around to find them.

The group back in Peggy’s finishes settling up tabs and give each other side hugs on the way out the door, where one woman offers the night a last salute.

“Nevermore,” she says, as her friends laugh. “Nevermore.”

—Reported by staff writers Colleen Hammond and Jazper Lu

3:30 a.m. Saturday — Armed patrols and no more alcohol

WIth Glenwood’s alcohol tap turned off for the night, a pair of private security guards patrol nearby Peace Street, both wearing ski masks, one openly carrying an assault rifle and the other a pistol.

Asked about this, they explain that they are hired to keep the peace along the whole block, providing security from drunk people. Six of the cars parked along this street have boots placed on the tires. As they walk the block, the masked guardians cool down arguments with at least two of the drivers.

The urinating men at Mellow Mushroom and Armadillo Grill have vanished, the last of which tried unsuccessfully to rent a bike. A few stragglers linger on bus stop benches, but the after-hours crowd is filing into Sahara Hookah Bar, which stays open until 5 a.m. and serves no alcohol.

Some sip Turkish coffee. Some play dominoes. Some dance.

“It’s better to be here than to get a DUI,” says Mike Sider, one of the owners. “You come in here, relax. Sahara is a nice place to chill out. A lot of people still have the mood for dancing.”

But just as he finishes this sentence, a fight breaks out.

—Reported by staff writer Aáron Sanchez-Guerra

Crime in Glenwood South: Here’s how many people have been shot there this year

4:46 a.m. Saturday — Towing conflict and a shooting investigation

Around the corner at Tobacco Maxx, two women sit inside a blue Honda loudly arguing with a tow-truck driver, who is wearing a gun strapped to his leg.

The women’s car already has two boots on its tires, and as Romano Chebli attempts to haul it away, one of them angrily insists she knows a lawyer.

“Why are you arguing with a shorty?” asks the other. “Only bitches argue with females.”

Soon, one of the women in the Honda steps on the tow truck’s crossbars while four Raleigh police cars arrive, two of them with lights flashing.

Meanwhile, two more women appear on the other side of the street, one of whom is engaged to one of the armed guards wearing masks.

“Just pay it, friend,” she calls to the distraught Honda driver.

Half an hour later, the tow trucks have moved on, but Raleigh police start searching the bushes outside the Subway on Peace Street.

A passer-by reported a shooting near there — not life-threatening, but still a shooting. Police meet the victim later at WakeMed.

—Reported by staff writer Anna Johnson

6:15 a.m. Saturday — Clean things up and start all over again

As the sun starts to rise, Felix Acevedo from the Raleigh transportation department arrives with a broom and starts sweeping up the Glenwood sidewalks, collecting paper plates, beer cans and pizza crusts.

A few hours ago, while he slept, the tipsy masses stumbled down this street snapping selfies, hollering at cars, kissing in the alleyways.

“They just disappear,” Acevedo says with a shrug.

The city started cleaning downtown streets every day last fall, part of a broader effort to make the district more presentable. They get helped by The Great Raleigh Cleanup, founded in 2020 and staffed mostly with volunteers.

But this Saturday morning, they face a stiff challenge that calls for a specialist: the pile of vomit still waiting beneath the bus stop.

So before long, city biohazard specialist Christian deCarlo arrives in a four-wheeler equipped with small tanks of water, bleach and Voban Absorbent made for cleaning up vomit, blood or feces.

“Any kind of bodily fluid you can think of,” says Oscar Gomez, part of the city team. “This is a hot spot.”

After a quick treatment and an hour of sweeping, the offending remains have all been collected.

Neighbors start appearing with their Chihuahuas in tow. Down the street, The Cupcake Shoppe starts making pastries for the breakfast crowd.

And it all starts again.

—Reported by staff writer Richard Stradling