Nassau Bar
118 Nassau St, New York, NY 10038
I am reminded of the term “technological leapfrogging,” as I sit next to a friend I have brought along for this field trip. I ask her, my friend, if she has heard the term, she shakes her head no, so I ask her permission to explain. From the Wikipedia entry:
… small and incremental innovations lead a dominant firm to stay ahead. However, radical innovations will permit new firms to leapfrog the ancient and dominant firm.
I went into a bit about “you know how Europe has had those hand held credit card terminals for years and years and we only just got them?” This bar feels like it’s on an old operating system - not the most recent update rather something two or three behind. You wouldn’t expect it to be ahead of the curve just by looking at it but feels dated even for a uniform bar (suits, construction workers, cops, firefighters, city employees, even the plain clothed tend to choose a sporting allegiance). Once someone wearing a flashy tracksuit instructed the bartender to give me and my friends a round of beers on the house; they were the owner.
We are seated approximately 30 feet from the front door and 100 feet from the back wall. The physical bar counter itself is the length of 5 large flat screen TVs between 5 cash register stations and 5 back bar set ups with tiered shelves of alcohol from whence the term “top shelf liquor” is derived. It is about the width of subway platform. An array of unlabeled beer taps are perched at odd intervals down the bar rail like birds on a power line. Despite this I have never seen it busy enough to necessitate such robust service infrastructure. The store front is positioned halfway down a quick, thin bit of Nassau Street directly opposite the hotel entrance of The Beekman; home to two restaurants, a cocktail bar, and an underground club. Were I staying there, in town for business, I would surely be delighted to have a reliable dive so close yet somehow the dingy sanctuary of Nassau Bar is beginning to feel out of place.
I imagine the year I was born, 1988, and the corridor packed with both wide lapeled suits and Carhartt double knees (when they were only worn by laborers) rushing to get as many drinks in themselves as possible on an hour long lunch break; each to return to making dangerous maneuvers restructuring the world of finance through edifice and artifice respectively. All are afforded equal access to procure and imbibe and oogle the bartenders. It is of seemingly paramount importance to note that every review, or news story, I’ve found regarding Nassau Bar has borne the phrase “bikini-clad bartenders.” It is true the buxom babes busily bearing bottles of bud be bedecked in bikinis (or at maximum a sporty bra and booty shorts). Given the lack of a competing dive bar nearby it does beg the question why? I wonder if at some point in the past there were so many bars serving a similar clientele they needed to set themselves apart. Perhaps it is thanks to these ladies they are one of the few still in business.
The guy next to me is chastised for whatever sports team was on his shirt last week. “Wear it again and you’re outta here,” joked the bartendress. It has that old timey New York feel where you know there’s at least one off duty cop here. Wanna get a lil taste of Penn Station but don’t feel like taking the train above Canal Street? Look no further. Ever wonder what the New York bodega staple - the Bacon, Egg, and Cheese - would feel like if it morphed into brick and mortar? Bon appetit! Want to feel like you’re stealing a few hours away before you return to the old ball and chain (in New Jersey)? You needn’t be married nor have sired any children to get the job done. One thing you cannot do, however, is go number two. In an ironic twist, you are only slightly more in charge of your bowels than an infant. The men’s room has no lock, no toilet paper, no paper towels, and the sign on the door adequately conveys its restrictive intent, even to the illiterate, as it displays the simple image of a human sitting on a toilet with a big red ‘X’ over it. Funny enough a friend of mine needing to relieve himself is what led us to dip into this bar for the first time years ago. Upstairs there is a ‘women’s room’ which you must gain permission to access as it doubles as the employee restroom.
Nassau Bar being one of the few places worth visiting (or even existing), in the otherwise ghost town of FiDi, makes me feel a little hollow. The area has been largely abandoned by entertainment, save for the odd cocktail lounge, and a very unenthusiastic stripclub (that once double charged me and I was unsuccessful in disputing the charge). The Patriot closed recently and although I hated The Patriot where else are you supposed to be told a tall tale from an old drunk about the time he almost assassinated a former president and alleged billionaire? Nassau Bar’s red-lit counter no longer needs to brace for a happy hour rush like the seventh inning stretch of a Yankees game - or even an intermission at the opera. Do people not get shit housed on their lunch breaks anymore? Is temperance to blame or has the afterwork drinks market been stolen by tech offices with hard kombucha on tap? As we leave the bar and walk down Nassau Street we pass a newish looking Variety Coffee. I feel the crowd at Nassau is probably more of Dunkin and that meme about “if you see ______ in your neighborhood, your rent is going up” comes to mind. “If a trendy coffee shop opens on your street, your business is going down…” if you’re a specific type of dive bar in a specific neighborhood. Admittedly the audience for that meme is quite small. Should I be thankful there are a few pieces of “Old New York” still to be seen; even if the individual examples aren’t especially shining? I remember when I moved here I would occasionally be struck by the sight of a corner or an alley way or an old store front and think “wow the 80’s.” Perhaps I’ve been self-afflicted by nostalgia for a time that didn’t exist. I hear that’s going around.