In the summer of 2023, Alix Max, new in town with a cigarette in her mouth, was playing pool on the patio of the 4100 Bar in Silver Lake. They were also pretty good, good enough to catch the attention of two regulars, Andrea Lorell and Julianne Fox, who recruited them to join their practice group. His proposal was simple: “We have this group chat, we play together and we improve. The goal is to beat men at billiards.”
It's a plot that could be taken from the classic pool movie “The Hustler.”“: An up-and-coming pool prodigy, James Dean-cool, comes to town and is seduced by the green felt world of the dive bar pool: a wannabe pool shark who finds himself cute on an ashtray. A cherished motto that Max introduced to the group: “Pool is blue-collar golf.”
Pool night was born after Andrea Lorell, pictured, and other players continued to experience hostility around the sport at other bars.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
The pool playing group, which began as a group chat titled “Women in STEM,” was made up of pool fans, typically young women that Julianne “met drunk” at bar 4100 and who had a growing interest in pool. Soon, the group chat morphed into a series of tournaments and a community titled “Please be kind.” If pool has a reputation as a pastime for gamblers, hustlers and losers, the bi-weekly women-focused pool tournament at 4100 Bar offers a friendly and supportive alternative. “I don't know if the goal was necessarily to build a community, but it was a natural byproduct,” says Fox. The tournament is both a party and a competition where women shoot pool, exchange tips, and compete in an encouraging environment. It was created as an antidote to the thorny, male-dominated world of the dive bar pool: all the euphoria without the turf wars with the bar's regulars.
Julianne Fox counts the score.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Founders Lorell and Fox started playing pool at 4100 Bar in April 2023 and were united by their mutual hunger for the game. Growing up an only child, Lorell spent hours playing on her aunt's pool table. As an adult, she traveled around the country for work, always looking for pool halls to “find a good time.” He has since joined a league and even played in a tournament in Las Vegas, where his team won the Sportsmanship Award. The team that eliminated her was disqualified in the next round. In the yard, he details the melodrama so playfully that his love of the game is infectious, almost romantic.
“It's a community that encourages each other and watches each other improve,” says co-founder Andrea Lorell.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Until recently, Lorell lived in a cluttered studio with a pool table next to his bed. He jokes that being a pool shark is his dream job. “I give myself a little pep talk before big matches: 'You're the best pool player in the world,'” he says, laughing, cigarette in hand. For her, the intention of “Why Please Be Nice” is to make the pool accessible to young women: “It's a community that encourages each other and watches each other do well. “It accelerates people’s learning.”
Co-founder Julianne Fox says the tournament also doubles as a workshop: “If you've never shot a pool ball before, come along. We will hold your hand metaphorically or literally.” It's not about showing off the guys, even if that still happens. “I think it's even more fun to learn how to play with your daughters,” says Fox. “I want to win, but I also want my opponent to have fun,” he adds, highlighting the good energy of the competition.
Pool tables in Los Angeles can be hostile places. “I walk into a random bar in Koreatown, there's a pool table and a group of older men are playing. You walk in and they assume you’re going to be bad at it,” Max says.
Lorell adds: “They give you advice or examine you, so it's uncomfortable.”
Players say there's a gentle energy at “Please be nice” tournaments.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Molly Sievert, another Please Be Kind player, also experienced sexism while playing pool. She explains that people assume that her interest in pool stems from a desire to impress a father or boyfriend. She started playing pool at age 21 in bars across cities and is still baffled by men's casual condescension toward female pool players. “Men have never complimented me on my defensive shots because they think it's an accident,” he says. When they inevitably lose to Sievert, they attribute it to a bad beat rather than their opponent's skills. She won her first tournament at “Why Be Nice” and has been a frequent competitor ever since. She's a proud critic of 4100 Bar's regulars: She says people keep walking toward her taco, throwing their punches and not apologizing. “I always have that little part of me that says, 'Would you do that to a man?'”
Sievert explains a personal theory that women naturally like the pool. Above all, it is a game of negotiating one's circumstances, making the decision and forging one's own luck. It's the kind of dangers and forebodings that feel inherent to being a woman. Bravery, Molly argues, doesn't help the game. “Men will say, 'I can make shots. I'm a shot maker.' A lot of women say, 'I like the side pockets and the weird angles.' I don't like long table shots. I don't really like hitting him. “I like to think about the interaction of all the balls.”
April Clark, comedian and pool player, attributes the antagonism on Los Angeles pool tables to a shortage problem. “When I first started playing pool, I lived in New York City; There were many bars with pool tables.” For Clark, the appeal of the game is the spontaneous encounters with strangers that pool invites. The fewer tables, the worse the ecosystem and the worse the environment, Clark maintains.
Jaden Levinson, left, and Taylor Garcia watch the action.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
It is often observed that pool halls resemble morgues; the dimly lit blue felt table inside the 4100 Bar is no exception. The competitors are in a trance state, building a stratagem. Pool tournaments usually last until the bar closes at 2 am. Players take breaks to socialize, buy drinks and watch the game.
Part of the success of “Please Be Nice” is tied to the recent revival of the 4100 Bar, which went from a neighborhood dive to a Silver Lake nightlife institution thanks to tiktok. Mouse, a bartender at the 4100 Bar for eight years, explains that the bar's boom began in 2020, when it became a popular spot for outdoor drinking during COVID restrictions.
Participants of all levels are welcome, even those who have never shot a pool ball before.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Now, it's not unusual to have a celebrity encounter at the 4100 Bar on a weekend, with its new reputation as a charmingly seedy playground for Internet celebrities. Thanks to TikTok, the bar gained a cult following in Europe and Japan, and tourists flocked to the bar to be photographed in front of the avocado-green wall, Mouse explains. “Foreigners come here just to take photos with the 4100 sign and they don't even place orders,” he says. “People come and spend $100 on the photo booth and don't even have a drink.” The wall, he notes, looked a lot like the now-infamous neon green hue from Charli XCX's “Brat” album.
For Lorell, the dive bar exists as a third space. “If you spend four out of seven days seeing the same people, you're not just a friend in that sense; “You are chosen family.”
Diana Brennan evaluates the playing field.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Rumors are swirling that 4100 Bar could close next year with the expansion of Erewhon. “Over my dead body,” exclaims Fox.
For the future of “Why Be Nice,” Lorell and Fox hope to see the pool-loving community develop even further. “We would love to solidify a beginner-focused event, since that's where it all started: learning pool with women and non-binary people who were too afraid to try it in a regular bar,” says Fox. “We hope to continue training troops and leading every table in Los Angeles,” he adds with a smile.
There's a beloved saying about pool from “The Hustler,” uttered by the protagonist, Fast Eddie Felson: “Even if you beat me, I'm still the best.” Fox believes the quote does not align with his attitude toward billiards. “There's something Andrea says all the time when someone beats her: 'I don't lose to losers. So you better win it all.'”
