Closing Night at Big City Bar & Grill, NYC
by Stephen Bailey
January 8, 2005

This evening I found myself navigating a minefield of discarded Christmas trees along east 90th street on my way to the closing night celebrations at Big City Bar & Grill (1600 Third Ave.). Apparently the landlord had raised the rent so high that the venue just could not survive. It sounded to me like another one of those classic NY nightlife tragedies where real estate and politics outweighed the value of entertainment. My sympathies however faded as the evening wore on.

The place was beyond packed both upstairs and down with sweaty, beer-filled crowd screaming at the many TV screens. The Jets were making a grab for playoff glory and I was meeting Sean Murphy and his football lovin' cohorts. I squeezed my way thru the door and around the bar, stopping for a moment to order a drink. It was then that the many problematic qualities of this place began to show themselves.

The bar was seriously under-staffed. A big mistake with a 5 deep wait for drinks. When I finally did get my order of Jack & Coke, it came in woefully weak. I realized that the only way to get a buzz on in this place would be from doing shots. Unfortunately, despite the fact that I paid $40 for an open bar that was advertised with the following claims ...

• "You can drink whatever you like. order anything from the top shelf down"
• "This includes all beers, liquor, wine, etc."
• "Stay as long as you like, the open bar goes all night"

... patrons were now being told that shots were not included in the open bar and there was no more Guinness. It was just past 10:30!

My only option was to suck it up and drink the cheap beer. Thanks to a mob mentality somewhere in between the kind that causes big city riots after a win and the kind creates that all encompassing party atmosphere, I spilled a good portion of my beer at some of the more pivotal points of the game.

In such close quarters, there was the side benefit of unintentionally felt asses. I do think we all could've done without that certain someone who had bad Mexican food for dinner. There was just no escaping the ambush of fragrant gasses. Oh how I longed for the pine scent of those poor, disgarded Christmas trees.

I began to wonder why we were still standing. After all, this place takes reservations for large parties. Sean then explained to me that, when he called the bar earlier, he was told that they were not taking reservations for this night. No problem, he thought, until he and his group arrived and noticed all of the tables were marked 'reserved'. After some negotiating by Sean's friend Darren, they were able to score a spot. All seemed well until it was revealed that the open bar special was not available to anyone sitting at a table. A minor detail not mentioned in the bar's advertisement.

So other than the massive TV screens, sweaty, beer thirsty throngs fighting for a spot at the bar, lousy service, weak drinks and bad sound system, what was the appeal of this place? To be honest, I don't know. I thought that maybe the problems of this night had to do with the excessive number of people, but according to those that have been here before, that was not the case.

Now this begs the question; will it's closing be that much of a loss to the neighborhood? I doubt it. I've spent my fair share of time in the bars of the upper east side. Most (if not all) have more character, better atmosphere and stronger drinks. And, am I wrong, but doesn't every bar have a TV or 2 (or more) on which you can watch the game? I could never really figure out the appeal of these massive sports bars in NYC.

After the game we thankfully fought our way back out into the mild NY night and ended up at Marty O'Brien's (1696 Second Ave.). A place that is certainly more my speed. It's "Sinatra's Irish Connection". According to their site:

Frank Sinatra's father, Marty Sinatra, boxed professionally in the 1920's under the name "Marty O'Brien", at a time when the most successful boxers were Irish-American. Sinatra, with his blue eyes and rugged looks could easily pass as Irish. Unfortunately, his boxing career did not last very long, so he became a fireman, and the father of the Legend.

Of course there was no escaping the Jets on this their winning night as George (left), the owner of the bar, posed with a behemoth, inflatable player. Upon seeing this, another patron said, "Hey, take my picture man!" As I raised my camera, I stood by horrified as our air-filled Jet violently attacked this patron. No charges were filed against our balloon bully.

Next I stumbled out behind everyone on our way to Trinity Pub (229 E. 84th St) for what I think was a birthday party. At this point I have to admit that I was well on my way drink-wise. So the rest of the night is a bit foggy. I do remember an impressive, fun and enthusiastic crowd for so late in the night.

Sometime around 4:00, I made my way back home with one recurring thought; "Fear not upper east side. You will survive without your Big City Bar & Grill so long as you have your smaller, warmer pubs such as Marty O'Brien's, Trinity and the like."

Cheers,
Stephen

Related Links:
Big City Bar & Grill
Marty O'Brien's
Trinity Pub
NY Jets

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