On rare occasions I have the opportunity to have an outstanding day. Yesterday, was one.
I boarded my train, wrote, switched at the junction (the earlier train was late which allowed me a wait of literally 2 minutes), arrived in Penn and every subway from there was like clockwork. I made one switch from the E to the 6 effortlessly, with a transition smooth as silk. I had no wait; an absolute rarity.
I read about Benelmans Bar and saw it opened at noon. I arrived a little after 11:00 am in the area. The Metropolitan Museum of Art was about 6 blocks down from the subway station, the Carlyle Hotel only one. The choice was logical- I’d pop in the Hotel, look and if the bar was open this early- start early and have a day at the museum.
I stepped through the gold revolving door of the Carlyle into the reception area. There were two large abstract paintings to the left and a corridor filled with various artwork, including what looked like two large seventeenth century works. In front of me was the main dining room. I poked about, especially down the “art hall” until I found a maid. I asked her the location of the bar and she pointed through a part of the dining area. I walked through into this beautifully nestled, dimly lit bar at the back.
The moment I stepped through the archway I felt the aura of the place. The walls were painted by Ludwig Bemelman, the creator of the children’s book Madeline. It’s the only public display you’ll find his paintings. He did them in exchange for room & board. There’s a magnificent grand piano in the center of the room, a highly shined black piece of artwork which the room revolved around. The bar is to the right. It was quiet; I hadn’t planned to be there earlier than noon.
There were two men to the left of the piano with camera lighting. They looked like creative types who were in the middle of some kind of shoot. I don’t like to disturb others and I had hoped I wouldn’t be a bother. Many well known personalities visit such a bar, and I simply wanted to be a fly on the wall.
I had taken off my hat and made myself comfortable at the bar. I could hear the mens voices, but nothing I could understand. It was a mysterious little alcove where they sat, dim, but lit by that powerful camera light.
I can be the quiet type, but I was in good spirits today. I asked if I might be a bother if I sat peacefully at the bar, and we struck up a conversation immediately. Can you believe the only two men in the bar besides myself were named Steve?? I found it comical from the start.
They were there to work on a documentary of some type. I hadn’t probed about the content of the film, it wasn’t my place, but I told them what I was there to do. They were as interested as I. They wanted to interview me, and touch a little on what my mission was. I was humbled. They hooked the microphone up and we began a small interview under the intense light which lit our corner.
If you put three creative people in a dimly lit room with something interesting to talk about, you never know where it may lead. The words may come as natural as a simple conversation; streams of innovative magic that can only be captured once and disappear as quickly as they appear. I look for these moments where I can learn more about others and indeed myself. I found there was a deeper meaning to this little trip I planned, I was a student and also a teacher.
I could certainly look up to these men. They are involved in the creative fields- Steve One- the interviewer- used to dance long ago- well known in fact, he’d been a painter for the past 20 years, a producer and holds other interesting titles. Steve two was the technical type. He knew the shots, the sounds, like any great director. He was a family man with a beautiful wife and kids. They’d both came by car and were highly concerned about not being ticketed- the fear of every New Yorker!
The star of the bar if you ask me was our bartender- Tommy. I don’t think I’ve ever met a bartender I liked more. In fact, his very personality could have been a carbon copy of a main character in my book “the Fleamarketeer”. He was the PERFECT Henry.
Tommy had arrived late, which was uncharacteristic of him. He was always timely, pants pressed, bottles opened and a whole host of activity done by the time the bar REALLY opened. He was concerned about the light and its effect on other patrons who might not enter. After 11:30 he asked them to shut it down.
Tommy had been bar-tended at Benelmans for FIFTY years! He mistakingly thought I was part of the filmaker’s crew. When I told him I was just a patron, he was really upset. “I’m NEVER late and the one day I am, I have three people in the bar.” He was an Irishman with a wealth of knowledge. In one simple phrase he defined it all: “You can’t film me, I’m just a bartender.” The man who everyone knows, a humble man.
He’d lost his wife not long ago, and the job became more of a saving grace than anything. It kept him busy during the day and his mind from home. I found he lived close to me and commuted in. Everyone knew Tommy and took care of him, much like he took care of us.
Our conversation went a little like this:
S- “What kind of drink should I get? I want an old type of drink, something common in the fifties maybe.”
T- “You tell me what you want and I’ll make it. I’m a beer man myself.”
S- “So am I, but I want something which will be fitting of such a place. What do most people drink here?”
T- “Martinis”
S- “Than that’s what I’ll have.”
Tommy poured me a Stoli Vodka Martini- a BIG one. The left over went in a small container which sat next to the drink in some crushed ice. He brought some water, which he told me is usual with such a drink.
It was cold and good- strong to say the least. I told him I may go to the museum or just sit with him all day. He said if you have more than two of those drinks, I’ll need to have someone carry you out. I laughed- so be it….
We had a delightful conversation. I’d found out more about him and the place. I was very comfortable there, like it was a second home. Time started to fly. I asked for a second martini, but couldn’t leave until I finished it. A doctor came in who Tommy knew. He wore a neck brace and had mentioned about an invention which occurred to him as the result of the comfortable neck ring.
Things were going sketchy…. the second martini was kicking my ass. I kept repeating the phrase in my head- “If you have more than two, someone will have to carry you out.” Fifty years of bar-tending… he should know.
At some point I must have realized what time it was. I’m sure I must have paid Tommy well, but I don’t remember. I found a receipt in my pocket which said Metropolitan Museum of Art. I can’t remember a single painting. I sat down to ask about tickets to a special event later in the month, but no matter how hard I looked- the words weren’t there. The two older women looked at me in question. I must have sat there for two minutes before I uttered a word. I think it was “never mind”. The cab drive was a fractured puzzle. I think if I took the subway I’d still be there.
Somehow I boarded the right train to Secacaus, but had to wait 20 minutes for the connection to the Pascack Line- a much slower train which ran infrequently. I rested my eyes for what seemed to be a second, and found I’d missed the train! It was one of those moments you don’t actually believe you fell asleep. HOW, is beyond me- I MUST have heard the train, I was RIGHT next to the track! However, I couldn’t deny the lost time.
I called my friend Jefferson Thomas who is an avid fan of great bartenders, especially the VERY experienced type- the old guys, who have plenty to tell. I had a few words with him, and did everything to stay conscious…..”more than two of those drinks, and I’ll need someone to carry you out….”
I slept on the train and came to in time to exit. I arrived home after a good walk and realized I was in this “crippled state” until 9pm! Hell, if I hadn’t written on the train yesterday when I was sober, you wouldn’t have had a thing until today!
I had plenty of water, took a cherry pill and Vitamin C for the gout and a few aspirin for good measure.
Now THAT’S a bartender………