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| Lunch beckons, and we move on to Mickey Mantle's, a restaurant on the edge of the park. I think I've mentioned Mantle before, but, just in case, he was a Yankees' great from the fifties and sixties. It is a good place, full of both sporting and entertainment memorabilia – but the odd thing is that all the pieces are labelled and priced, there to be sold rather than looked at. Next we move on through the park to Strawberry Fields, a supposedly quiet area of the park dedicated to John Lennon. I say supposedly because the Imagine monument itself seems to have been taken over by locals, who feel their role is to play music and proposition tourists. Just across the street is the Dakota Building, an elegant Victorian edifice where, in 1980, Lennon was shot and killed. There is no indication on the building itself of what occurred, but nevertheless it brought a wistful solemnity to our conversation. We return to the apartment for some respite, and then set out again for the evening's festivities. Alan and I have decided to repay our respective hosts in some small part by buying dinner. The train takes us to the East Village, and McSorley's, the oldest alehouse in New York. They have an extensive drinks list – light or dark. If you don't like beer you're in the wrong place. The beers come in half pint jugs, a good half of which is foam; there is sawdust on the floor, and the walls are lined with ancient photographs. We continue along the Bowery. When I last visited this city 35 years ago, the Bowery was full of drunks, and I still have a dreadful memory of my tourist bus stopping there, and the locals performing for the camera toting tourists. Now the gentrification is well under way, with a couple of $700 per night hotels and fashionable restaurants, but a couple of homeless hostels are still visible. Part way along my attention is drawn to a road sign proclaiming Joey Ramone Way. Joey was one of the heroes of the punk scene of the late seventies, and is a New York icon. The road sign is in proximity to the site of CBGBs, the club where New York punk thrived, now no longer standing. I recently read a Joey Ramone quote, along the lines of "People said we only played short songs, but it wasn't true. We played long songs – we just played 'em quick!" Punk in a nutshell! We cut across the edge of Chinatown to Little Italy, where we find our chosen restaurant. In the mid-seventies Dylan recorded "Joey", a song about mobster Joey Gallo, which describes his death thus One night they shot him down in a clam bar in New York . He saw them coming for him as he lifted up his fork. He pushed the table over to protect his family And staggered out into the streets of Little Italy . Well, this is the clam bar! Admittedly, the original was a few doors away, but a good story nonetheless. We dine handsomely on clams, pasta and Chianti and, following Joey's example, stagger out into the streets of Little Italy. During the time it has taken us to eat, it has become dark, and the area has come alive. Each restaurant has tables on the sidewalk, and a greeter trying to persuade you that this restaurant is the best in a row of maybe thirty Italian restaurants. A smaller version of our party leaves the train a few stops early, to make the last part of our journey home on foot, across the Brooklyn Bridge . This is another marvellous night time sight, and rounds off the evening perfectly. We put Alan and Mike in a taxi and, as we turn for home, Marcus points out a plaque on the wall of a bank. This was the site of the offices of the Brooklyn Dodgers, and it was on this spot that Jackie Robinson signed his contract, thus becoming the first black man to play major league baseball. |
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