Thank you Lucian. Today would have been Wes’ 90th birthday. Not sure that old roue would have survived old age gracefully. I love him still and miss him every day. He’d be happy that you eulogized the Head so beautifully.
Thanks for coming back to old New York so often. I never lived in Manhattan, but was there a lot although too young to participate fully in some aspects of New York life.
I belong to a FB group that is full of Americans of Italian descent trying to establish Italian citizenship. They have various reasons for doing so - some of them want to live and work in the European Union; few say that they want to leave the US because they are disaffected in some way. But they seem to year for some authentic connection with a past and with people that they often never knew. It's made me (the child of Italian immigrants) feel more deeply American. I spend time in Italy and all over Europe especially; I feel a deep sense of recognition when hearing certain dialects and eating certain foods, for example. But there are reasons our ancestors left and in my family's case, they were deeply DONE with the old ways, the poverty, and the politics (Fascism). Only one ever went back, and didn't stay.
I am Italian culturally and by descent, but when we became citizens we owned all of American history, good and bad, and we subscribed to the idea of America. Many fought for it in WW2. I am American. And a lot of other things, but America is worth believing in and defending, despite it all.
Brings back so much. Thanks again, Lucian. And on Wes's 90th! What a poignant coincidence. A nice bonus to see Judy and Claude here too.
As for would-be ex-pats, I often wonder what the world would look like if refugees flooding other lands had stayed, joined forces, and fought their oppressors. That's where I'll be if the worst comes, fighting in good company, however much appeal flight offers. —diane
I am a proud citizen of the late and much lamented Walnut Bottom Tavern of Carlisle, Pa., where they sold fish and game that no inspector ever saw and where Helen Waite was the comptroller (“if you want to drink beer on credit, go to Helen Waite” was the sign over the cash register). Great place.
Lovely piece, Lucian. Truly. I remember visiting you once on home leave in the 70s when you lived on Houston St., and you took me to the Lion's Head, where you introduced me to a pal of yours named Cardozo, some of your fellow village scribes, and Judy Collins. I could feel it was a special place. In my neck of the woods back then, the only watering hole that came close to conferring that sense of citizenship was the bar at the Commodore in Beirut, which is also no more. But like the Lion's Head, it's an indelible part of my identity and of those who drank there during some very dark days.
Spent many hours there - Pete Hamill on the phone to Shirley MacLaine, Clancy Brothers after hours concerts, Village Voice hot off the press for apartment ads, best conversations ever!
Bravo! You celebrate those temps perdu with wistful panache, and the old feeling is recherche.
Although I was never a frequent enough visitor to a bar to be a denizen, your description evokes the cigarettes and alcohol and the buzz of animated conversations and laughter of any number of NYC wateringholes.The Lion's Head, the White Horse, the Old Town, even PJ Clark's (a bit too uptown). It's the denizens that make the place. Guys like you.
well said as well, Rich. and of course what you say about the people making the place is true, but it still feels to me like, of all the bars in which I spent time, the Head had a very particular kind of magic I never found anywhere else. ever. maybe it was the incredible mix and the fact that it was, very conspicuously a "writers' bar. but having said that, the incredible mix was just....different. for example, one night I walked in just in time for Joel Oppenheimer (one of my teachers at CCNY) suddenly introduced me to the new "hippy Knick," Phil Jackson. one of many such examples....
In the 2030's as the 21st century reaches adulthood there will be an ache to understand the 20th century and what life was like before social media. Places like The Lions Head and other famed bars will become the base of a new and exciting nostalgia with colorful details and characters. Lucian, you will be there. The quality of your recollections and your books will linger for decades.
Lucian, you have no idea. or rather, you have the idea all right, but the experience was pretty fucking bittersweet. I just posted a long comment in reply, then forgot to post it properly. I could argue that such things are the story of my life, but that wouldn't be true. in any event, I was--and remain--a citizen of the Head. and while it's on my mind, if anyone wants to see a literal mirror-image replica of the bar section, try to find the incredibly bad remake of "Night and the City" with DeNiro and Jessica Lange (who happened to wait tables at the Head c. '69 or so). and, if you ever spent any time with Donald Phelps (with whom I spent hundreds and hundreds of hours talking books and movies in the dining room), a remarkable fact is that he lived to be about 90 and only left us about two or three years ago. and I'm posting THIS one correctly.
so odd to read this today. I have lived many places in my life and actually had many different names (long story). I was thinking recently that I have no place defining tie. I seem to always be in the moment of where I am. a cild of the south, a teenager of the hippie/vietnam era, a doubter of the Reagan era, a Mother of the Clinton era, a antiwar believer of the Bush era and so on. But no one place.
Thanks for this column. I love it, I love and recognize the concept of being a citizen of many different places and experiences. I'm a citizen of: the US; of the Upper West Side (NYC); of Ocean Beach, Fire Island; and of the community of NYC Psychoanalysts. Each identity matters greatly to me, and as you said, each represents a place / experience / influence in and under which I BECAME. It almost goes without saying, and yet in reading your "saying" it, I recognized a truth we tend to overlook or, perhaps, never consider at all. Thank you for opening my eyes to a new way of recognizing the meanings and value of all my "citizenships."
Your mention of "stockbrokers" leads me to make another comment, to share a story about the late, much loved Paul Schiffman, a retired sea captain who worked the noon to eight o'clock shift behind the bar. I was there during one of his shifts when four men in suits, appearing to be in their late twenties/early thirties, came in. One came up to the bar next to me, and Paul growled his usual greeting to a male stranger, "Yeah, what can I get you, mate?" The man said, "Four tequila sunrises." Paul considered any drink with more than two ingredients, possibly ignoring ice or fruit, to be anathema. He got four shell glasses and slammed each down on the bar, then scowled as he filled them with ice. The customer decided to try to be friendly. "So, what do you think about this Bess Myerson business?" (Ms. Myerson, a former Miss America who had become a city official, had become embroiled in scandal). Paul snapped, "None of my affair." The customer persisted, "Yeah, but did you see in the Times ..." Paul cut him off with, "Look, I don't give a damn if they hang her or shoot her!"
Another classic Shifty story, which I only know secondhand. Phone at the bar rings; Paul picks it up. After a few seconds, "HAPPY hour? Happy hour starts at eight, when I get off."
I loved this and I know exactly what you mean about "place". I am a Foreign Service brat, born in Greece - so no US home town or state, although that is complicated by the occasional "home leaves" when we stayed for 3 months at a time in New York with relatives, because 3 months is an eternity to a child. My sense of place also relies on my family - many of whom are now gone - certain smells and certain kinds of people that I recognize when I meet them as belonging to my "tribe". I've met members of my tribe on Facebook.
Thank you Lucian. Today would have been Wes’ 90th birthday. Not sure that old roue would have survived old age gracefully. I love him still and miss him every day. He’d be happy that you eulogized the Head so beautifully.
Thanks for coming back to old New York so often. I never lived in Manhattan, but was there a lot although too young to participate fully in some aspects of New York life.
I belong to a FB group that is full of Americans of Italian descent trying to establish Italian citizenship. They have various reasons for doing so - some of them want to live and work in the European Union; few say that they want to leave the US because they are disaffected in some way. But they seem to year for some authentic connection with a past and with people that they often never knew. It's made me (the child of Italian immigrants) feel more deeply American. I spend time in Italy and all over Europe especially; I feel a deep sense of recognition when hearing certain dialects and eating certain foods, for example. But there are reasons our ancestors left and in my family's case, they were deeply DONE with the old ways, the poverty, and the politics (Fascism). Only one ever went back, and didn't stay.
I am Italian culturally and by descent, but when we became citizens we owned all of American history, good and bad, and we subscribed to the idea of America. Many fought for it in WW2. I am American. And a lot of other things, but America is worth believing in and defending, despite it all.
Brings back so much. Thanks again, Lucian. And on Wes's 90th! What a poignant coincidence. A nice bonus to see Judy and Claude here too.
As for would-be ex-pats, I often wonder what the world would look like if refugees flooding other lands had stayed, joined forces, and fought their oppressors. That's where I'll be if the worst comes, fighting in good company, however much appeal flight offers. —diane
————————
I am a proud citizen of the late and much lamented Walnut Bottom Tavern of Carlisle, Pa., where they sold fish and game that no inspector ever saw and where Helen Waite was the comptroller (“if you want to drink beer on credit, go to Helen Waite” was the sign over the cash register). Great place.
Lovely piece, Lucian. Truly. I remember visiting you once on home leave in the 70s when you lived on Houston St., and you took me to the Lion's Head, where you introduced me to a pal of yours named Cardozo, some of your fellow village scribes, and Judy Collins. I could feel it was a special place. In my neck of the woods back then, the only watering hole that came close to conferring that sense of citizenship was the bar at the Commodore in Beirut, which is also no more. But like the Lion's Head, it's an indelible part of my identity and of those who drank there during some very dark days.
Spent many hours there - Pete Hamill on the phone to Shirley MacLaine, Clancy Brothers after hours concerts, Village Voice hot off the press for apartment ads, best conversations ever!
Bravo! You celebrate those temps perdu with wistful panache, and the old feeling is recherche.
Although I was never a frequent enough visitor to a bar to be a denizen, your description evokes the cigarettes and alcohol and the buzz of animated conversations and laughter of any number of NYC wateringholes.The Lion's Head, the White Horse, the Old Town, even PJ Clark's (a bit too uptown). It's the denizens that make the place. Guys like you.
well said as well, Rich. and of course what you say about the people making the place is true, but it still feels to me like, of all the bars in which I spent time, the Head had a very particular kind of magic I never found anywhere else. ever. maybe it was the incredible mix and the fact that it was, very conspicuously a "writers' bar. but having said that, the incredible mix was just....different. for example, one night I walked in just in time for Joel Oppenheimer (one of my teachers at CCNY) suddenly introduced me to the new "hippy Knick," Phil Jackson. one of many such examples....
In the 2030's as the 21st century reaches adulthood there will be an ache to understand the 20th century and what life was like before social media. Places like The Lions Head and other famed bars will become the base of a new and exciting nostalgia with colorful details and characters. Lucian, you will be there. The quality of your recollections and your books will linger for decades.
Lucian, you have no idea. or rather, you have the idea all right, but the experience was pretty fucking bittersweet. I just posted a long comment in reply, then forgot to post it properly. I could argue that such things are the story of my life, but that wouldn't be true. in any event, I was--and remain--a citizen of the Head. and while it's on my mind, if anyone wants to see a literal mirror-image replica of the bar section, try to find the incredibly bad remake of "Night and the City" with DeNiro and Jessica Lange (who happened to wait tables at the Head c. '69 or so). and, if you ever spent any time with Donald Phelps (with whom I spent hundreds and hundreds of hours talking books and movies in the dining room), a remarkable fact is that he lived to be about 90 and only left us about two or three years ago. and I'm posting THIS one correctly.
so odd to read this today. I have lived many places in my life and actually had many different names (long story). I was thinking recently that I have no place defining tie. I seem to always be in the moment of where I am. a cild of the south, a teenager of the hippie/vietnam era, a doubter of the Reagan era, a Mother of the Clinton era, a antiwar believer of the Bush era and so on. But no one place.
Thanks for this column. I love it, I love and recognize the concept of being a citizen of many different places and experiences. I'm a citizen of: the US; of the Upper West Side (NYC); of Ocean Beach, Fire Island; and of the community of NYC Psychoanalysts. Each identity matters greatly to me, and as you said, each represents a place / experience / influence in and under which I BECAME. It almost goes without saying, and yet in reading your "saying" it, I recognized a truth we tend to overlook or, perhaps, never consider at all. Thank you for opening my eyes to a new way of recognizing the meanings and value of all my "citizenships."
Your mention of "stockbrokers" leads me to make another comment, to share a story about the late, much loved Paul Schiffman, a retired sea captain who worked the noon to eight o'clock shift behind the bar. I was there during one of his shifts when four men in suits, appearing to be in their late twenties/early thirties, came in. One came up to the bar next to me, and Paul growled his usual greeting to a male stranger, "Yeah, what can I get you, mate?" The man said, "Four tequila sunrises." Paul considered any drink with more than two ingredients, possibly ignoring ice or fruit, to be anathema. He got four shell glasses and slammed each down on the bar, then scowled as he filled them with ice. The customer decided to try to be friendly. "So, what do you think about this Bess Myerson business?" (Ms. Myerson, a former Miss America who had become a city official, had become embroiled in scandal). Paul snapped, "None of my affair." The customer persisted, "Yeah, but did you see in the Times ..." Paul cut him off with, "Look, I don't give a damn if they hang her or shoot her!"
Another classic Shifty story, which I only know secondhand. Phone at the bar rings; Paul picks it up. After a few seconds, "HAPPY hour? Happy hour starts at eight, when I get off."
Wasn't there another daytime bartender named Don?
Schlenker.
Yes. He served my first drink at the Head in 1973.
I loved this and I know exactly what you mean about "place". I am a Foreign Service brat, born in Greece - so no US home town or state, although that is complicated by the occasional "home leaves" when we stayed for 3 months at a time in New York with relatives, because 3 months is an eternity to a child. My sense of place also relies on my family - many of whom are now gone - certain smells and certain kinds of people that I recognize when I meet them as belonging to my "tribe". I've met members of my tribe on Facebook.
Well written, fellow citizen!
Downright lyrical...beautiful