Landmark West, an Upper West Side preservation group, sponsored a talk
recently on the Irish bars in the neighborhood by Jef Klein, an historian of
bars and the author of a handsome coffee table tome on the subject, "The
History and Stories of the Best Bars of New York."
Appropriately
enough, the event was held at the Dublin House on West 79th Street, a watering
hole with which I'm not entirely unfamiliar. Even those who have never set foot
in the place may recognize its welcoming neon harp sign hanging over its front
steps.
I couldn't make
the lecture but I managed to connect with Ms. Klein last week at the White
Horse Tavern. That institution, to the best of my knowledge, wouldn't be
considered an Irish bar, but boasts a similar range of refreshments. In the
meantime, I picked up a copy of her book and realized we had much to discuss.
Irish bars, it turns out, are only a small part of her practice. Among those
celebrated on the pages of "Best Bars" are several saloons where I've
spent profitable evenings—starting in the tender post-college years and
stretching all the way to, well, probably the week before last.
These included the
Ear Inn (the sight of a formative date with my future wife); Fanelli Café, one
of the last links to the SoHo of old and deserving of National Register of
Historic Places recognition (if it hasn't already received it); J.G. Melon,
whose burgers warrant similar landmark status; and the Old Town Bar and
Restaurant.
Before we convened
at the White Horse—another of the bars in the book—I decided to undertake some
research on the subject. This consisted mainly of trying to come up with a
question or two that would test the depth of Ms. Klein's knowledge.
I believe I
managed to think of only one: Did she remember Chumley's? As it turns out, it's
also profiled in "Best Bars of New York," but I didn't realize that
at the time. For those unfamiliar with the place, which, tragically, closed in
2007 after its chimney collapsed, it was a former speakeasy that managed to
retain much of its clandestine, Prohibition-era allure. There was a
conventional entrance at 86 Bedford St., but more fun was arriving through a
hidden courtyard off Barrow Street.
According to Ms.
Klein's research, after Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald's wedding reception, the
party moved on to Chumley's, where the couple was rumored to have consummated
their marriage at Table 7. I have no idea whether that's true. However, I can
testify from my own experience that Chumley's dark recesses lent themselves to
misbehavior.
"Were you
ever there when they had to change a keg?" Ms. Klein inquired. I can't say
I was. Then again, I can't say I wasn't. I undoubtedly had other things on my
mind besides the supply chain, just as long as the malted barley and hops
stream continued unabated. "They had a trap door in the floor. It was one
of the escapes during Prohibition days. So they would keep the kegs down
there."
Among the other
nuggets of nostalgia the author shared:
• A pistol was
found in the chimney at the Ear Inn when the place was renovated.
• The Bridge Café
on Water Street is the oldest bar in New York, selling liquor from the site
since 1794, even illegally during prohibition.. "Don't tell
McSorley's," she said.
• There was a
tunnel at the White Horse, apparently just below where Ms. Klein was now
sipping a "Lady's Pint" of beer. She explained that during the 19th
century the West Village attracted a rougher crowd than it does today; no
Magnolia Bakery or Lulu Guinness boutique back then. "The tunnel was not
just for the Underground Railroad," she stated. "Most every bar was
doing something illegal—stolen goods, hiding somebody on the lam. It wasn't
Boulud. In the 1800s outside the White Horse the baby carriages would be four
deep after Mass."
While researching
her book, Ms. Klein said that she'd visit bars with several standard questions,
among them: "What about the box next to the baseball bat?" By that
she meant neglected bar-related memorabilia, dating back generations. At one Chelsea
tavern, she said, the owner opened the box and found a telegram from his father
to his mother announcing that he'd been wounded in World War II.
I was more
interested in the baseball bat. "You always keep a baseball bat in case
things get busy," Ms. Klein stated delicately. She knows her subject, and
her peace-making equipment, having worked 14 years as a bartender, waitress and
restaurant union organizer in New York and New Jersey, before turning to
bar-themed literature. Her current book project involves New Jersey bar bands
of the 1970s.
She boasted that
she'd led a successful worker strike in the 1980s after the owner of the New
Brunswick restaurant where she was employed tried to pay the busboys in
cocaine. "You just can't do that," she explained.
To be honest, as
interesting as all this trivia was, I'm not much of a history buff, even a bar
history buff. I'm more interested in the recreational here and now. I floated
by her my theory that a bar such as Bemelmans at the Carlyle Hotel, one of
those detailed in her book, may actually be more economical than someplace like
the White Horse or the Dublin Inn. At the latter bars, they serve drinks in
thick-sided glasses that create the illusion of plenty but find themselves in
urgent need of replenishment after only a few miserly sips. At a respectable
hotel bar, on the other hand, they may change $15 or even $20 for a drink, but
they typically don't scrimp on the alcohol.
"It's called
a rocks glass," Ms. Klein explained of the standard vessel, and former
bartender that she is, she didn't sound entirely sympathetic to my cause.
