Rathbone's, The Pandemic & the Demise of an U. E. S. Institution

I received an e-mail recently referencing an article that announced the closing of Rathbone's, a longstanding and popular watering hole on East 88th Street and Second Avenue. While disappointed in the finality of the news, I can't say that I was at all surprised. There had hardly been any crowd outside the place since bars and restaurants had reopened after last year's initial lockdown. Rathbones had existed for years across the Avenue from the storied Elaine's, outlasting the latter by many years. I had walked past it the previous weekend and had seen many kitchen items as well as sundry refuse stacked outside on the sidewalk. I took this to be a sure sign that the end had finally and irrevocably arrived. Now it was no more. Thus, my friend's e-mail was nothing more than a public confirmation of Rathbone's long dreaded demise.

I, like many others, find the demise of the place particularly sad as it was the scene of many memorable moments over the years and many an enjoyable Friday Night Happy Hour with retired New York City Firefighter Charlie Roberts manning the pumps or pouring out shots of Jameson or Fireball depending on the tastes of his customers. His popularity was infectious and it created a wonderful crowd of regulars into which newcomers easily assimilated. Monday Trivia Night was another popular attraction. It had also been the best food value in the neighborhood; 35 cent wings and $10.00 pitchers of beer on Wednesday nights; Two for One Burger Platters on Tuesdays and $10.00 steak & eggs, plus a drink on the weekend. Rathbones constituted a genuine neighborhood institution, a true watering hole, where you could form friendships that would last for years. It was, like so many places now gone or about to be so, an important element of what made the Upper East Side something unique, something all its own. It was the kind of place that the late Pete Hamill could have waxed eloquently about, impressed as he would be by the genuine neighborhood essence that defined the place.

Because Rathbone's was owned, in part, by City Firefighters and staffed by several as well, it attracted off duty firefighters and cops. Thus, the discussion of the afternoon often revolved around the latest news or policy changes that were going on in the Fire or Police Department. Beyond those employed by the city there was your regular crowd of young professionals who would stop by on Fridays at the end of a week of murderous hours logged at law firms, advertising or media outlets. Then there were the seasoned professionals long established in their careers whose worries were now less about making it and more about paying for college, the occasional wedding or retiring from work altogether. Of course, there was that ubiquitous character of the city scene, the real estate broker and a few Wall Street types as well as retirees. To this mix one would also, in due time, get to know that element of the regular crowd composed of union construction workers from various trades, a few railroad guys, stage hands or building service workers most of whom were members of Local 32 BJ. Every evening at seven, like clockwork, the crowd would change with the changing of the guard behind the bar, the older folks heading for home, the younger crowd filling in right behind them for the "second shift." One long time denizen of the place called it the "Jeopardy" moment, that is when the television show by that name came on it was a signal to the afternoon crowd that their day at Rathbone's was done.

Once upon a time Yorkville had been home to many members of Iron Workers Local 580 and there are still more than a few of its members here who make up a durable element of the neighborhood's drinking class. Thus, when you think about the Upper East Side bar scene you don't think of cop's, fireman and union guys making up a significant portion of the clientele but they certainly did, in the afternoons, at Rathbone's. That gave the place, depending on who was there at the moment, a vibe you'd expect to find in a bar out in the Rockaways or in Maspeth or Sunnyside. Many of these guys, especially the older ones didn't need to be reminded of the significance of dates like December 7th, June 6th, November 11th or that Memorial Day was much more than the "unofficial start of summer" or a three-day sales extravaganza at retail chains or the local super market. For veterans like me and a few others, there was always someone buying you a drink on Veterans Day or on the Memorial Day weekend, with the rest of those in attendance raising thier glasses in a toast saying "Thanks for your service." Little did those folks know that in just a few short months following that last Veterans Day a new group of heroes would soon arise in their city, wearing hospital scrubs with identification cards or stethoscopes around their necks. Heroes that would go into battle wielding syringes or manning ventilators in a battle against an unknown and unseen enemy, an enemy that would herald the death kneel of their favorite bar and meeting place.

I remember a few incidents at Rathbone's as being especially memorable:

* A few years back, I had been going to "The Bone" throughout the Stanley Cup playoffs and on the night that the Rangers qualified to go to the championship a pretty young girl in stiletto heels got up on the bar and walked from one end to the other and back pouring shots of Jameson to any and all who wanted to partake. Needless to say, I had some!

* During one World Cup the Bone had set up two televisions facing the sidewalk during the USA-Portugal game and the street outside was packed. A NYPD patrol car pulled over with the cops leaning against their cruiser watching the game with the rest of us. I was lucky enough to have a seat at the bar but the place was so crowded that it was faster for me to go a block away to my building to relieve myself than it was to try to fight my way through the crowd to the bathroom in the back.

* No one who ever regularly partook of Saturday afternoons with Big Mike Byrnes will ever forget that guy or the experience he created. It was like a weekly reunion for Catholic college graduates. He revived my enthusiasm for college basketball beyond March Madness and he turned me on to a lot of great Irish rebel songs. He was also a great guy for discussing rock and roll with. There are many songs in my collection now that he turned me onto. My wife, with me one afternoon and not being aware of Mike's strident anti-British sentiments said, "He looks a lot like Henry the VIII." I said don't you dare let him hear that, we'll never be allowed back in here on a Saturday again. One thing about Mike was that when he got to know you, if he liked you, he would literally drown you by the time you left and your bill was always "twenty-four dollars." When he became ill a benefit was thrown for him at The Saloon on York Avenue and the place was packed with friends and customers from the "Bone", even with a cover charge contribution of $100.00. My wife said "I can't believe a cheapskate like you paid $100.00 bucks to go to that that event", but if you were a pal of Mike's, $100.00 was chicken feed and we all would have gladly paid even more if required. He's just that kind of guy.

* One Friday night I was sitting at the bar and we were talking about the prospects of Trump winning in 2016 and I made the comment that Barbara Streisand said she would move out of the country if Trump were elected. Desi Stafford, an P.B.A. Business Agent and veteran NYPD cop nicknamed "The Commissioner" perked up and smiled and said, "Let me know when, I'll help her pack."

I doubt we'll see anything like Rathbone's in the neighborhood any time soon, many of the old-line saloons have changed hands, gone out of business due to the pandemic or just plain gentrified. After all it took years for the place to become an established part of the community and unless the new owners try to recreate the old atmosphere, which would require reemploying many of the former employees, it will be unlikely to ever return to what it once was.

Steven J. Gulitti

East 87th Street,

NYC