Que Sera is one of Long Beach's longest-running nightlife institutions -- but under the quiet shift from former owner Ilse Benz to Dylan Davis and Bradley Eston (and largely led by Bradley), the space is returning to its roots as a venue that offers Long Beach some of its most distinct vibes, club nights, and weekly and monthly events. Even with the shift in ownership -- three times since its 1975 opening as Que Sera -- it is the rare bar that not only survived decades of citywide change but managed to shape the cultural fabric around it.
"I've been spending the entirety of my time learning the venue and booking side of the business," Bradley said. "There's so much that goes into it: Sound fees. Artist contracts. Ticket splits. Promotion on both my end and their end..."
Now with a submission form on the website, the space has been filled with a variety of events and shows: From from drag queens and dark wave clubs to shows from Candy Brooke and nights like Fight Club bringing appearances from Anderson Paak, Miguel, Smino, Ty Dolla $ign, D Smoke, and more.
Now, Bradley is ready to face the bar side of it all, shifting the entirety of the space for a Grinch takeover that celebrates the explosion of holiday celebration that has become a staple for Long Beach bars,
Opening in 1975 and stepping fully into its identity by the early 1980s, Que Sera was previously known as the Monarch Room -- an appropriate name change given its new owner, Ellen Ward, was an out lesbian pioneer who shifted queer space in Long Beach. Que Sera? It was a sanctuary long before the idea of "safe spaces" entered mainstream vocabulary.
As the venue grew in popularity amongst the lesbian community, so did its reputation as a live music center. Melissa Etheridge credits the bar with helping to launch her career as she played the space throughout the early 1980s while living in Long Beach. It is a space she has never forgotten and permanently etched in queer history with her song, "Cherry Avenue:"
That "Benz who will make you a drink"? That is Ilse Benz, a fiercely independent, openly queer woman who worked the door up until 1999, when Ellen handed her the keys. Across the following decades, she helped further carve out a place on Seventh Street that was defiantly hers: part dive bar, part performance venue, part clubhouse for the outsiders, artists, queers, punks, goths, and night owls who made the city's after-hours world hum.
Good Foot. Bump N Grind. Das Bunker. Release the Bats. Ceremony. Boondock Bangers... Soul. R&B. Rock. Punk. Goth. Dubstep. All were repped at various nights across Ilse's tenure at Que Sera.
Ilse was a unicorn in her era: an openly gay woman running a bar at a time when queer ownership in nightlife was still rare, especially for women. Under her watch, Que Sera became everything a good dive should be: rough around the edges, dimly lit, loud, and entirely welcoming. Drag shows, punk nights, goth dance parties, hip-hop sets, and experimental music all took turns on its small stage. It was a place where a construction worker and a drag queen could sit shoulder-to-shoulder at the bar without anyone blinking. When the rest of Long Beach cycled through trends and waves of redevelopment, Que Sera remained stubbornly itself.
So when Ilse Benz decided it was time to hand over the keys, there was an understandable nervousness about what might follow. Would the new owners gut it? Modernize it? Sand down the grit that made Que Sera feel like Que Sera?
Instead, the transition has been surprisingly faithful. Dylan and Bradley, as a duo -- both longtime fans of the bar and its ethos -- stepped in not to reinvent Que Sera but to preserve it. They've given it a strategic polish, ensuring its longevity, but have been careful to honor what Ilse built: the dance nights that sweat past midnight. The eclectic programming. The sense of unpretentious belonging. In their stewardship, the bar hasn't been rebooted -- it's been re-committed to.
That's exemplified with its Grinch takeover.
"I had to do something no one else is doing. Valentine's Day? Let's do a metal night. Cinco de Mayo? Let's do St. Patty's Day," Bradley joked. "In all seriousness, this has been the most we've taken on in terms of re-imagining the space."
Unlike the generic Christmas motif that often overcomes spaces during the holidays, this is all-out Grinch'n'green. You can write letters to the Grinch at their mail station. You can find Grinch gobos projected onto walls while Baby Grinch floats in his Pumbersella above the dance floor. A fully decked-out dark ride section... And, of course, drinks.
Approachable, reflecting a lot of Bradley's past work at Port City Tavern, the ladies will love it, and the gays'n'gents will be happy.
Today, Que Sera remains one of the city's most enduring cultural engines, a place where generations overlap and the walls hum with the history of every show, every late-night confession, every anthem shouted from its stage. Its survival -- and its careful passing from a queer pioneer to a pair of devoted successors -- says something rare about Long Beach: that here, legacy still matters, and some bars are more than businesses. They're landmarks of spirit.