The history of One-Eyed Mike's' Grand Marnier Club

In the months leading to his Fells Point bar's 2003 opening, One-Eyed Mike's owner Mike Maraziti knew he needed a hook — something to turn new customers into loyal regulars — to stand out in the crowded neighborhood.

On a whim, he based the business decision on his personal drinking preference by creating a Grand Marnier Club, an ode to a longtime favorite of bar-industry workers. Some close to him said he was crazy to focus on the orange-flavored cognac liqueur, but he filled the four designated Club shelves, 32 bottles total, in weeks. Rather quickly, the idea of membership — which includes a bottle with the patron's name and a lifetime-reserved spot for $175 — did not seem so ludicrous.

"Most of the people in that charter-member case were your bartenders, bar managers, bar owners. They'd go back to their work and say, 'You're not going to believe this club I joined this week,'" Maraziti said. "It was really a grass-roots kind of promotion, and it just kept growing."

They kept clearing shelves around the bar to accommodate new members, but soon enough, logistics gave way to expansion.

"We ran out of room at the bar, so we built a case in the dining room and said, 'This will last us forever,'" he said. "Well, that was filled in less than six months."

The club — of which One-Eyed Mike's claims to be the first ever — has grown to more than 2,500 members. (The milestone was celebrated last weekend at a party at the Horseshoe Casino.) While Maraziti said 60 percent to 70 percent of the members are local, there are bottles waiting for club members who live around the nation and even as far away as Germany, South Korea and Italy. Even Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake, who received her membership as a gift years ago from a colleague, spoke at a Grand Marnier Club 10-year anniversary party.

Although One-Eyed Mike's serves food, beer and wine, it is synonymous with Grand Marnier.

"If you hear anything about Grand Marnier in Baltimore, they're going to say, 'One-Eyed Mike's,'" he said. (As a reporter on the nightlife beat for a couple years and a local bar-going resident for longer, I can confirm this is almost always true.)

The club operates straightforwardly. For the initial $175, a patron gains lifetime membership, which means a designated space is his or hers forever. (That includes after death, Maraziti said, referencing the bar's portion of bottles with black, instead of the usual red, ribbons around the neck for deceased members.) The first bottle is free, and once it runs out, a replacement costs $85. There are incentives, too, such as a free 11th bottle, and after 50 bottles, the member gets a special commemorative bottle celebrating Grand Marnier's 100th anniversary.

Fifty bottles sounds like a lot of sweet liqueur, but not here. There are three "major players" in a never-ending race to drink the most, he said. The leader has more than 600 renewed bottles, while the other two hover around the 300 mark.

Maraziti appreciates the consistent business the club provides (Grand Marnier accounts for approximately 20 percent of One-Eyed Mike's total sales, and half of its spirit purchases, he said), but loves it for the camaraderie it cultivates, too.

"It's great for atmosphere in the building. You come here on a Friday night happy hour, there will be 10 or 12 members hanging out, and they're just sending Grand Marnier all over the place" to fellow members and potential new ones, he said. "It's more than just a drinking club. ... People take pride in being a part of it."

In terms of demographics, Maraziti said, the average age of a member is early 30s, and the gender split is roughly 75 percent male and 25 percent female. Approximately 5 percent join and never return, he said, but their bottle is still somewhere in the building, waiting in case they ever come back.

Like any good club, there are bylaws. Some are whimsical ("At the initiation of membership, one must do the first shot from their bottle with the owner if available"), and others are not. Maraziti's steadfast advice: Don't order Grand Marnier on the rocks.

"The bartender will just stop in his tracks," he said. "He'll say, 'I'll be happy to give you a glass of ice on the side if you want to do it. We just can't do it.'"

The majority drink it neat, he said, while there is also a cocktail menu with drinks that use Grand Marnier.

And yes, every bottle is located on the premises, from both sides of the bar to the basement and even up to Maraziti's second-floor office.

The abundance creates its own issues, like multiday training of the alphanumeric cataloging system for new bartenders ("If you don't know where you're going, you could be running around a lot") and even structural questions.

"The bottles are heavy. When they're full, they're about 8 to 10 pounds apiece," Maraziti said. "My concern is if the building can hold the weight."

Does that mean a limit on membership is inevitable? Not if Maraziti can help it. One-Eyed Mike's sells 20 to 25 new memberships per month, he said. (During a recent visit on Valentine's Day — usually a slow night for bars — I watched two new members happily join.) He estimates the bar has opened between 40,000-45,000 bottles of Grand Marnier since 2003, and Maraziti said he'll continue to find space for more.

"It's definitely our shtick, there's no doubt about that," Maraziti said. "I'd be crazy to ever cap it off. I've got a lot of building left."