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Chumley's
86 Bedford St. (between Barrow & Grove St.)
New York, NY
(212) 675-4449

By b. niemietz
January 20,  2003
 
Yes, Chumley’s used to be a speakeasy in (slightly) more conservative times but now everyone knows about it-- and that’s OK. It isn’t uncommon to hear West Village locals complaining that this unmarked bar used to be a neighborhood secret but, quite honestly, that hasn’t been the case for 70+ years. I’m not going to try and present a bar that you’re reading about on a website as a speakeasy, but Chumley’s history does add to its charm. The dark, wooded interior makes it easy for one to imagine fedora wearing Johnnies sweating out the recession down here but even if this space had been an Ikea 3-months ago, I would still be ranting about Chumley’s for what it is now.

Make sure that you have written down this address before wandering into that historic part of town where streets with the same name intersect one another (the corner of 4^th St. and 4^th St.?) Even if you’re right in front of Chumley’s, you may only know it by the drunken patrons stumbling about, looking as if they just got away with something. Unmarked and relatively soundproof, this windowless space can be tough to find. Once inside, visitors are greeted by few-frills décor featuring lopsided tables, a sawdust covered floor, and photos of the famous beat poets and folk singers who once frequented this joint while seeking liquid inspiration. It’s hard to tell whether or not there’s table service as Chumley’s seems to operate under the build-it-and-they-will-come school of order. Once this place gets crowded, it’s a bit of a free for all at the bar where a true will to drink and a sharp pair of elbows are an absolute must if you plan on whetting your whistle.

The tourists tend to come here by the busload on weekends but if you can get in early or, simply come on one of those five days of the week that aren’t called Saturday or Sunday, you’re going to like what you see (they open at 5pm). Though Chumley’s kitchen holds its own, I would strongly recommend dining at the same-themed Grange Hall (right around the winding, twisting corner) and making a retro-Americana night out of your West Village outing. Chumley’s is mainly a place o’ the ale so sticking to the suds will keep you in good standing with the bar staff. 

Coyote Ugly
153 First Ave. (between 9th & 10th St.)
New York, NY
(212) 477-4431

By b. niemietz
March 24,  2003

That’s right—Coyote Ugly. If you don’t know the place, you certainly know the name. If you’re basing your opinion of this infamous bar on what you saw in the very mediocre movie of a couple years ago, forget it; this isn’t a sterile theme bar. The script for this flick was written by a former C.U. bartender but the film wasn’t even shot here (the exterior footage was from Hogs and Heifers, which is on the opposite side of town, and the interiors were shot in Hollywood, somewhere near the Leave it to Beaver house).

What Coyote Ugly is is a ragged old shack full of hard-drinking revelers and scantily clad bartenders who flirt with silver tongues and rule with iron fists. This one-room dive looks like trouble waiting to happen, but for those frat boys who think that copious amounts of alcohol and a half-naked bartender mean a free lunch, Coyote Ugly keeps a fairly discreet staff of bikers/bouncers on hand who will make the Stones concert at Altamont look like a taping of Sesame Street if patrons start a pawin’. All of the seats in this joint are either near or at the bar, which means that as soon as you step inside, you are immediately a part of the action. Bras hang from the walls and ceilings, making Coyote Ugly look like a hunting lodge where the local game is breasts. Women who are willing to give up their bras for a free shot of tequila will soon see there undergarments tacked on the wall alongside those who came before them.

There are a couple of things to be aware of once you’ve decided to take the plunge and venture into this place. Warning one: NEVER ASK FOR WATER. It’s become a gimmick but those who request water are dismissed as lightweights and will therefore be sprayed with the carbonated seltzer behind the bar. Warning two: DON’T DRESS LIKE YOU’RE GOING TO A COURT APPEARANCE. Men wearing ties into this place will often find their neckwear cut off by unapologetic scissor-wielding bartenders. If you would like to be refunded for that $100+ silk Armani, talk to the bikers—they’re sure to sympathize.
Warning three: NOTHING IS FREE. If a bartender “offers” you a shot, it means that you’re buying one not only for yourself but for her as well. The trick here is that she drinks a shot with you and keeps the money for both; it’s C.U.’s infamous buy- two-get-one “bargain.”

If you’re still not scared, then you just might be ready for the time of your life. C.U.’s loud jukebox offers a raucous mix of rock and country and when establishment favorites like “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” start to play, the bartenders hop onto the bar and put on a temperature raising two-step striptease that turns this bar into a free for all. On occasion, the barkeeps will douse the bar in liquor and ignite it, once more exciting the always drunken crowd. To say that this chaos is organized might not be true but it is relatively safe. Men who are looking for a good time will marvel over the amount of liquor that these flat-stomached barmaids can consume. As for the ladies, there’s nothing to worry about here—the bouncers know that you’re in the house and the bartenders aren’t going home with any of the male patrons; they never do. In short, these guys are working up an appetite at the bar but they’ll eat at home. If you’re a single woman coming here for a drink, the odds are good but the goods are odd-- you’ll have your choice of what’s around. Nobody really hangs out here on a nightly basis but it’s a fun stop for those who need a drink and want entertainment beyond the standard TV above the bar and the jukebox full of 20-year old songs.

The next time you have guests in from out of town, head over to Coyote Ugly, order an extra shot of tequila, and I’ll see you at the far end of the bar.
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d.b.a.
41 First Ave. (between 2nd & 3rd St.)
New York, NY
(212) 475-5097
By b. niemietz
March 31,  2003

Even the most picky connoisseurs of tequila, scotch, bourbon, and beer will agree that few bars in the City have a selection of any one of these liquors that competes with the offering at d.b.a., let alone a selection of each of these things that’s this impressive. A long well-staffed bar spans the length of this beautifully maintained tavern and hanging behind the friendly and knowledgeable bartenders is a collection of chalkboards, each with carefully scrolled listings of the week’s specials and their corresponding prices, which are surprisingly low considering the amount of top-grade liquor they keep on hand. Try and sample one of everything and you’ll soon be borrowing those chalkboards to write one hundred times, “This place has more alcohol than I can handle.”

The d.b.a. crowd is a 30 and up set that seems to possess discerning pallets and little patience for college kids and the how-much-for-a-shot? mentality. Granted, many of these liquors lend themselves well to hounding and pounding but why waste a fine sampling of Patron on something a shot of Cuervo would do just as well? (The word from some of my liquor industry insiders says that tequila is the vodka of the next half-decade, making this a great place to bone up on your agave research so that you can be the big (wo)man on campus the next time you’re out with the co-workers). The music in d.b.a. is a loud mix of classic and modern rock, which somehow begins seeming quieter as the evening grows later.

If you’re thinking that you remember seeing a long wooden tavern like this on your last trip to New Orleans, you may be right; there is another d.b.a in the Big Easy and it looks very much like this Big Apple haunt. If you want to check out the New Orleans d.b.a. again just to make sure, look above the far end of the bar and you’ll see a camera and a black and white monitor, which provides a real time feed from the other city that never sleeps. If you have friends that are in New Orleans, why not coordinate a virtual meeting at your local d.b.a. taverns and have a televised cell phone conversation while sharing drinks from 700+ miles away. The time zones are the same as are the watering holes.

This fine establishment is often crowded and your odds of finding a seat on weekends are slim as can be but this place is worth the stand. The next time you’re craving variety and civility, drop into d.b.a and crane your neck to look at the chalkboards to see what’s up. Should you be lucky enough to make it to the New Orleans d.b.a, tip your glass to the camera and I’ll see you there.
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Great Jones Café
54 Great Jones St.
(between Bowery & Lafayette St.)
New York, NY
(212) 674-9304

By b. niemietz
February 24,  2003

There was a time when it wasn't wise to walk down the Bowery with anything less than a pack of pit bulls and a big chip on your shoulder. Times have changed but the vibe remains and few places capture that honest and dirty feel quite like the Great Jones Café. A tiny orange shack on a very dark street, this New York institution is an island upon which you should be so lucky as to be marooned. A popular weekend brunch spot where the hipsters come to slum, this place wears an ominous disguise by night that is just a ruse to keep away the B&Ts-- by Jones, it works!

The Jones is divided into two spaces: the bar and the dining area, which are separated only by different colors of paint and a total of approximately 10-inches. The white paint on the walls marks the table area, which is used primarily for dining. Fittingly, midnight is the witching hour where the kitchen closes and the regulars start creeping in. It isn't uncommon to order dinner and a drink upon entering the Jones to find that 4-drinks later, you're suddenly surrounded by a crowd that knows each other by name. Believe me, they will notice you before you notice them as they've slowly been trickling into the red painted portion of the space, which houses the bar. If you mind your own business and treat this neighborhood treasure with respect, you'll be fine. If you decide that your opinions are something to which everyone's entitled, you could leave here less pretty than you were when you entered.

The Jones’ bartenders are fantastic and they’ll take very good care of you if you take care of them. The Jones offers a wide range of beers (Chimet! Chimet! Chimet!) but there strength is in mixing rum infused bayou inspired cocktails like the Shaggy—you’re going to have to visit to find out more about that one. Maybe it’s the New Orleans inspired food and décor but the Jones feels alive and most of its regulars have at least one ghost story that will seem entirely believable after an hour or two of cocktails. Regardless of the time of year, this claustrophobic spot simmers with a swamp like humidity that’s hard to explain. Summers here can be almost overbearing but the stickiness just adds to the lawless vibe that’s set by the muddy rock and blues playing jukebox that Rolling Stone magazine once voted Jukebox of the Year (sometime in the 90s but no one here can remember that-- or many other years-- very clearly). When Rufus emerges, ( the enormous gray cat who keeps the basement rodent free), you know the bar’s about to close. Don’t call and ask when closing time is because, like most things at the Great Jones, that’s based on feel and not time. How is that for a New Orleans inspired bar?

There are three great parties per year at the Great Jones and attending at least one is a must. Every year, around Christmas time, the bar’s mid-June anniversary, and Mardi Gras (of course), the tents go up outside and a band somehow crams into this glorified phone booth of a room. All of the parties are nutty but the anniversary party is so crazy that the bar actually closes for a week afterward so that everyone can recuperate. Eating at the Jones is a must and they don’t take reservations so be ready to wait—it’s worth it.  
If you’re looking for a tourist free bar where wild doesn’t mean obnoxious and good doesn’t mean expensive, grab a rickety stool at the end of the bar near the jukebox, order up a house- pickled vodka mix, and I’ll see you there.
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Local 138
138 Ludlow St. (between Stanton & Rivington)
New York, NY
(212) 477-0280

By b. niemietz
March 10,  2003

A couple of weeks ago,  a respectable smattering of MurphGuide event attendees were treated to a fantastic one man show called Bartenders (starring actor/writer Louis Mustillo).  This insightful and entertaining play was told from the point of several bartenders, all of whom were played by a longtime real-life bartender who is also the son of a career bartender—let the record show that this guy knows bars. Among the things that we learned from the show,  such as never order a pina colada in an NY bar and never pay for Kettle One in a Cape Cod,  is that Mr. Mustillo is an avid fan of MurphGuide. Using this “in” to ask Mr. Mustillo a couple of questions after the show, I also learned that this NY drinking hole aficionado is also a fan of one of my favorite Lower East Side haunts, Local 138. Is there anything not to like about this guy? As importantly, is there anything not to like about Local 138?

This slightly fancy neighborhood joint sits quietly and unassumingly along a strip of considerably more popular (but none more friendly) bars including Piano Bar, Max Fish, Ludlow Bar, and Barramundi. Featuring two tightly enclosed private tables around its entrance and a series of tables and bench seats along the main wall,  this cozy dark wood spot almost makes one forget that they are visiting a bar and not a steam-free, alcohol serving complex of saunas. With all of the available privacy at Local 138,  the possibility of claiming your own private corner almost makes one forget that the long and spacious bar  that spans 2/3 of the room is staffed by some of the most friendly and personable bartenders in this nightlife driven part of town. 
The music overhead ranges with the tastes of the bartender(s) on duty but rest assured that it will almost always be agreeable to those who enjoy
listening as opposed to dancing (prog rock, roots rock, soul). Weekends often feature a DJ who spins slightly more bass heavy beats from the backroom but the volume never overwhelms the conversations in the main room. Those wanting to focus on the music are more than welcome to find a seat on one of the old sofas in the unfinished-suburban-basement-style DJ room in the back of the bar where they can do as they please in relative privacy (the DJ area is also open during the week, at which time this bar does a 180 and the back room becomes the most quiet area in the place).

These bartenders will gladly mix a drink for you if that’s your thing but Local 138’s tap selection features perfectly chilled Bass, Sierra, and Anchor Steam all at bargain rates (considering the ‘hood).  It’s easy to make a night of Local 138 but the great thing about this versatile almost-lounge bar is it’s versatility; it effectively transitions from a quiet after work spot, to a nice pre-event holding room, to an active prime time scene-kinda’-thang, and back again to a quiet wind-down locale.

The next time you’re in this deceptively lively part of town, start or end your evening at Local 138 by asking for Annie (one of the city’s top barkeeps), ordering something from the tap,  and saving a space for me under one of the modest and un-intrusive TVs over the bar, and I’ll see you there.

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Milady's
160 Prince St. (Thompson St.)
New York, NY
(212) 226-9340

By b. niemietz
January 13,  2003
 
How a place like this has survived in SoHo is a mystery for the ages but thank the God of your choice that it has. Standing tall on one of the city’s more old school intersections, this workhorse of a bar surely hears the commercial real estate buzzards circling overhead waiting for a sign of weakness. It’s a safe bet that Starbuck’s scouts have already been here and discussed where they’ll put the frappacappamoca machines but that hasn’t happened yet. This dusty little gem inarguably attracts a younger more stylish crowd than it once did, but from her lopsided pool table to her classic NY rock jukebox, the song remains the same at Milady’s. 

Deceptively lively, this effortlessly charming room seems to have somehow captured the ghosts of days gone by. Once Milady’s becomes your neighborhood bar, it remains your neighborhood bar no matter where you end up. It’s not uncommon to visit this place and run across several generations of patrons whose fathers used to hang out here as well. It’s also fairly typical to meet Milady’s regulars who keep themselves familiar despite having moved the family to Brooklyn, Jersey City, White Plains, or wherever property is affordable to honest people. If the sets of Gangs of New York has made you nostalgic for historical downtown, this is as close as you’ll come to capturing that un-sanitized feeling. On the topic of movies, Milady’s charm is not lost on the celebrity set, many of whom live in the neighborhood and drop by for a drink when they want to feel ordinary.

Despite the fact that many of these locals and former locals have been priced out of their neighborhood by the youngsters, they understand that cities change and are welcoming enough to the newbies. On most nights, one can order a daiquiri or something comparable without any trouble (pull that stunt late at night during the week and that kind of cutesiness might get you turned into a human ashtray). This is certainly an historical stop that all New Yorker’s should get to know and it’s also the kind of place that no one should hope to change. If you find the music too loud, the service too slow, or the TV reception too fuzzy, feel free to take a walk—this place has been here longer than you’ve been alive, Junior.

 Stop by, pull up a seat at one of the many tables, order a $5 Bass, (the place is a dive but the beer selection is good) , and I’ll see you there. 

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Rodeo Bar
375 Third Ave. (27th St.)
New York, NY
(212) 683-6500

By b. niemietz
February 17,  2003

A lot of people complain about the bars in this area and I’m often one of them. Sure, there are neighborhood favorites that are near and dear to the locals but this close-to-work (and little else) part of town is still trying to find an identity and that takes time. The good news is that finding an identity, as I vaguely remember from that blur called college, can be fun. Therein is the allure of Rodeo Bar. Legend says that this Honky Tonk bar was once a former horse trailer before becoming a live music alternative for urbanites who can (abstractly) appreciate the Texas vibe. A restaurant by night and a jamboree-hootenany-hodown sorta’ thing by late night, the Rodeo Bar promises fun and encourages rowdiness while providing a crowd with better dental work and higher paying jobs than one mighty genuinely find in a genuine shit-kickers roadhouse.
You are of course perfectly welcomed to wear boot and a 10-gallon hat to this spot but that’s genuinely done by the better-than-average performers who occupy Rodeo Bar’s spacious stage. If you remember the Country Western performance scene from the Blues Brothers, you’ll be able to conjure up a good idea of what this place looks like.
Now, add some NY tongue and cheek spice and you’ve got the essence of Rodeo Bar. There are certainly stuffed heads and bullhorns a plenty here but the crowd is too urban to sell this place as being from the Land of Bush. Some people may find the faux cowboy feel of this place unattractive but if you’re living in NYC, I’m going to assume that genuinely rural isn't your thing.
That's not to say that this place itself wouldn't fit into Houston quite well, but the gunslinger decor mixed with the Powerbook crowd makes for a fun combination. Rodeo Bar may not be quite as big as the Lone Star state but it's a lot more capacious than what we city slickers generally call a bar and, unless you just got back from helping Pa on the ranch, it's probably a nice alternative to what you did last weekend. The music here ranges from Urban Country to ear splitting rock but rarely does a bad act sneak into the spotlight at Rodeo Bar, possibly because there's no chicken wire to protect them from flying bottles of Budweiser.
The next time you're looking for a place to cool your heels in the Gramercy / Midtown South parts, tie up your horse at 27th and Third, and I'll see you inside, partner.
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Slate
54 W. 21st St. (between 5th & 6th Ave.)
New York, NY
(212) 989-0096

By b. niemietz
January 28,  2003
 
There are a lot of lousy billiard players who really enjoy going to bars and shooting pool. Of course, the only way to improve is by playing, which can be a problem in places where there’s one table and a long list of people waiting for their shot. One miss and it’s back to the end of the sign-up list, where turns are lost when the resident drunk, who often insists on running the show, slurs out the names of the waiting under music that’s so loud, he wouldn’t be heard even if he did enunciate. 

“Was that Brian or Ron?”  
"I think he said Tom.”
“Hey, is it my turn yet?”
“Yeah, I called your name but you were in the bathroom.” 

… and so it goes. That between-the-second-and-third-drink window of billiard brilliance wasted again.

 Of course, there is the quarters-on-the-table method of order, which invariably ends in a fight. As it turns out, most quarters look alike. So where do you go to improve your game? To this week’s B.o.t.W., Slate, which boasts a whopping thirty-three tables.

 Located on one of those dark strips between Chelsea and Silicon Alley, this 16,000-square foot bi-level spot is a treat, indeed. Feeling more like a lounge with pool tables than a pool hall with a bar, owner Telly Hatzigeorgiou’s creation is a nearly perfect place for gaming, lounging, and even dining (there are 60+ elevated seats and dining tables that overlook the billiard space on the main floor). And, thanks to the door goons who are as thick and sturdy as the pool tables themselves, this game room is hoodlum- and riff-raff-free.  Naturally Slate is also hat-and sneakers-free, so don’t come in here thinking you’re at Chuck E. Cheese, Junior.

Slate has no cover; there is a table charge that will cut into your drinking budget, but with drinks that are surprisingly cheaper than the ambiance would suggest, it all works out in the end. For those who don’t feel like shooting pool, there’s a very cozy lounge downstairs (a.k.a. The Snooker Lounge), where a pretty decent DJ spins a mood-setting soundtrack for the canoodling couples who are tucked away in darkened corners. The upstairs bar has two TVs that show the day’s sporting events on screens so large the players appear to be actual size.

Unlike many gaming venues, Slate is both male- and female-friendly, thus making it a perfect after work destination for all. Drinks can be bought at the bar, but this wait staff has mastered the art of being there when you need them and being invisible when you don’t.  Reserve a table, order me an Eight Ball (Skyy Vodka, raspberry purée and Godiva Dark Chocolate), and I’ll see you there.
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The Slipper Room
167 Orchard St. (Stanton St.)
New York, NY
(212) 253-7246

By b. niemietz
January 6,  2003
 
This neighborhood has more lounges than Michael Jackson has issues but, from time to time, there’s a diamond to be found amongst the cubic zirconiums.  A capacious cabaret style venue that’s two parts kitsche and two parts glitz, the Slipper Room is a throwback to days gone by without being overtly retrospective. For a cover charge ranging from $3 to $5, customers here will be treated to a wide range of entertainment varying from local bands to comedians to strip shows—often in the same night. Granted, the bands aren’t always great, the comedians aren’t always funny, and the strippers aren’t always what you might find at Scores, but the entertainers who take this stage often do so simply for the fun of doing it and that’s gotta’ be worth something (certainly more than the $3 you paid to get in, cheapskate). Considering the hip factor of this neighborhood and the clientele that frequents this room, the music, the jokes, and the nudies are better than what most neighborhoods might offer for considerably more money.

 Technically, the Slipper Room has two floors but the basement is used primarily for checking coats and waiting in refreshingly short lines to use one of the three unisex bathrooms. Despite the name, The Slipper Room’s main floor has room for more than just bedtime footwear. Upon entering this old school spot, visitors are met by a series of booths and a long bar that’s well-handled by a staff of friendly and efficient bartenders. As you make your way to the back of the room, you’ll find a smattering of tables and chairs that face a small roundish stage which is surrounded by a modestly elaborate combination of curtains and color. In the early days, this is the kind of spot where vaudeville would have ruled but times have changed and the kids wanna’ rock so in place of tap dancers and magicians, this stage now hosts guitar rockers and performance artists (used loosely). If you want to wear your zoot suit, you could certainly do so here but if you want to come in the clothes you slept in, that works as well.

 The Slipper Room’s tap selection is respectable but these mixologists can stir up some pretty mean cocktails so, regardless of how busy they might be, there’s nary an eye roll when bartenders are asked for a beverage that might require a little extra attention. Unless you’re Mister or Misses Stimulus, The Slipper Room probably isn’t the kind of place you’ll visit on a daily basis but, it is a lot of fun and there aren’t many places like it.

 The next time you’re on the LES, stop in, grab a seat, order up something fancy, and I’ll see you there.  

 P.S. The pizza joint across the street is pretty great and it’s open awfully late.
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WXOU Radio
558 Hudson St. (between Perry & 11th St.)
Greenwich Village
New York, NY
(212) 206-0381

By b. niemietz
February 4,  2003
 
Since name alone implies that the Bar of the Week award should go to a single bar, I am going to have to snub two of this ownership group’s three bars in honoring XOU, which I think to be the all-star of this neighborhood-themed trio of taverns (which also incudes WCOU, a.k.a. Tile Bar, on 115 1st Ave. and The Magician at 118 Rivington St.). “What is a neighborhood theme?”  you wonder aloud from your cubicle. If you’ve visited the aforementioned places, you know what I mean.  If you haven’t, go west, young man (or lady) and pull up a stool at this cozy watering hole. Being welcomed to this understated tavern doesn’t require your living in the ‘hood per se, but having a laid back, folksy, ‘neighborhoodian’ mentality will directly effect how quickly you are served. “That’s not right!” you exclaim. Well, enough out of you already! No one likes a whiner and that most certainly includes the gang at XOU. If you don’t like bars where your money entitles you to nothing more than a drink, stay out of this take-it-or-leave-it urban roadhouse. If you’ve put your college days behind you and you’re OK with letting a traditional bar be what it is, c’mon in quietly and try not to attract a crowd because they are on to something good in here.

A one room watering hole with a quiet yet cleverly stocked jukebox and no pool table, this snug spot feels like trouble and it is indeed-- but it’s good trouble. Dark and cramped, there isn’t much else to do here but drink, which is exactly what these locals do. XOU’s regulars rarely leave these weathered stools but they’re always willing to pull up a seat for a well-mannered newcomer. Never mind their good looks and charm, Tom, John, and the rest of the bartenders provide their patrons no reason to leave as the drinks and the conversation flow at a rate that is both comfortable and quick. Beer and whiskey best fit the feel of this bar, but XOU’s locally famous mixologists can stir up some real trouble and they’re always happy to show off their very special talents.

 WXOU is Cheers as written by Tom Waits; if you come here often enough everybody will soon know your name, but they’re not going to shout it out. If you don’t have a neighborhood bar, make this yours. If you’re looking for new friends in town, you’ll find a few on both sides of the counter at XOU. With the legendary White Horse Tavern being only a jackass-toss from XOU’s door, tourists and turnpikers tend to ruin this neighborhood on weekends but fear not—this joint is quiet and stealth enough to  slip under the radar (usually). The next time you’re looking for a mellow night with genuine people in a bar-goers-bar, duck in to XOU, mind your manners, order me a draft, and I’ll see you there.

 P.S. If XOU is too far from where you are, try Tile Bar or The Magician— many of XOU’s barkeeps take turns at those same-owned spots as well.  

[ b.niemietz is a freelance writer in NYC who, among other things, sometimes writes about the bars he can remember. He can be contacted with requests for a BOTW consideration, or other feedback, to:  baroftheweek@hotmail.com ]

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