Silver Lining of Bill's Gay 90s Renovation

Loath as we are to admit it, there is a slight silver lining to the old Bill's Gay 90s space's recent transformation into the fancier Bill's Food & Drink. As you may recall, when the former owner's lease was not renewed earlier this year, she took all the historical artifacts inside the bar with her—posters, pictures, even the joint's two old bars. All gone. The new owners had no choice but to recreate an oldish-looking interior. But, in restoring the anteroom outside the bar, they uncovered an old mural that had been hidden for decades. Apparently the mural was revealed when the original owners were taking down the pictures that hung there; not even they knew it was there. It's a collection of whimsical ads for liquor brands, painted as if they were posted on a brick wall somewhere. Based on the brands featured—Ballantines, Ambassadors—it probably dates from the 1930s and 1940s, when those whiskeys were more popular. The slogans ("A Sure Hangover") poke fun at the liquors.

Bill's Space Lost Artifacts Battle

The New York Times confirmed some details in the sad saga of Bill's Gay 90s, the wonderful old 1920s New York saloon that was cashiered earlier this year when its landlord wouldn't renew its lease. One: high-end restauranteur John DeLucie is taking over the place. Two: DeLucie didn't get to keep all the atmospheric antiques that lined the walls; those went with the former owner. 

Said DeLucie: "We’re thrilled with what we’ve gotten and we’re even finding more cool stuff. And we plan this to be more of a restoration than a renovation to keep the spirit of the place." He added that all his restaurants are "places that have history." 

I think he meant "had."

Bill's Gay 90s Is Gutted

I walked by Bill's Gay 90s saloon on E. 54 Street yesterday, for the first time since the Prohibition-era tavern closed last March, and found it gutted.

One of the windows looking into the second-floor dining room was papered over, but the other one was wide open. (There was work going on inside, but I didn't see any workers. I could only hear them.)  One could easily see that the walls, which were once covered with framed theatrical posters from the 1890s and 1900s, and other artifacts of Olde New York, has been stripped bare.

It was harder to spy the state of the ground floor barroom. But a glance through the narrow line of top windows revealed that the old bar, all the boxing posters, and the famous carved-wood-and-stained-glass swinging doors (which once hung in the old Hoffman House) were all gone.

The window below looks into the third floor, which once contained the old bar from Delmonico's. It, too, appears to have been gutted.

This big question here is: where did all the artifacts and furniture go? There was a legal battle between the owner of Bill's, Barbara Bart Olmsted, and Noel Tynan, the Irish owner of the building, as to who owned all the saloon's accoutrements. Tynan made it clear that he wanted to keep the insides just as they were, but Olmsted wanted to take all the trappings with her.

One thing's clear: the bar did not stay as it was, and all the stuff that made it special is gone. That would seem to indicate that Olmsted prevailed. Or it could be that everything is in storage and will be returned as soon as the place is renovated. But if that were the case, why take out the bar? And the shutters?

The Secrets of Bill's Gay Nineties

Bill's Gay Nineties closes on Saturday, March 24, possibly forever. The owners are talking about finding a new space, and they may. But regardless, it will never be the same. The bar has been in the same 1850s townhouse since opening during Prohibition. It's an irreplaceable setting for this diamond.

I'm not certain that New Yorkers realize exactly what they're losing. Yes, a former speakeasy with peerless dark-wood atmosphere and decor and a world-class collection of old theatrical and boxing memorabilia. (The owners are taking all that with them, so the restaurant that moves in will look nothing like Bill's.) We all know that. An unmatchable Old New York atmosphere. That, too. And staff who have been doing the same job at the same place for anywhere from 10 to 60 years. Ditto.

But Bill's has other hidden values, which will disappear come Sunday. Old places like this tend to, over the years, end up with pieces from other old places, ones that disappeared long ago. Take the swinging doors that lead into the basement bar. I've always admired them. But they struck me as being too ornate and fine, even for a class joint like Bill's. They seemed more 1890s than 1920s.



Turned out my instincts were correct. These swinging doors once hung at the entrance of the bar at the old Hoffman House, one of the most famous hotels ever to grace Manhattan. It held up the west side of Madison Square from 1964 to 1915 and was the last word in urbane, Gilded Age luxury. It was a hangout for Democrats and their supporters; Grover Cleveland was a frequent guest. And the bar's fame was wide. The walls were decorated with opulent murals and the cocktails were first rate.

Those doors should be in the Smithsonian.

The third floor, usually closed, is home to a private rental room, and dominated by a beautiful old wooden bar. This bar came from Delmonico's, arguably the most famous restaurant in New York City history. The owner doesn't know which of Delmonico's many locations the bar came from. (The restaurant moved steadily northward over the years.) But my guess would be the final location, at Fifth Avenue and 44th Street—just ten blocks from Bill's. What's more, Delmonico's closed in 1923, one year before Bill's reportedly opened.

The bar is in remarkable shape. It's a crime that it's only been seen by those smart or lucky enough to rent out the room. There are wood inlays and gas lamp fixtures and a brass rail that is undoubtably brass.

Behind the bar are glass cabinets for liquor bottles.

And the bar still contains its original copper sink (above).

Elsewhere in the room are various old signs, including this large one for Bill's Gay 90's Revue.

This stained glass window is probably as old as the bar, and from a time where Pabst was not only a leading brand, but a respected one.

And then there's this curious caricature of showman Florenz Ziegfeld. No information on that.

Down in one corner of the basement is the secret room where the liquor was chuted down to whenever Prohibition agents raided the bar.

The swinging door is a thick piece of brick wall lined with metal. The entry is small. You have to duck your head. The room is not large, but I'm sure it suited its purpose.

Finally, there's this guy. He stood outside Bill's for many decades before being moved to the basement. The wooden Indian has already been sold to a guy in Texas.

Bill's Gay Nineties to Close March 24

As first reported here on Feb. 10, Bill's Gay Nineties, the irreplaceable speakeasy-era bar on E. 54th Street, is closing. It is being pushed out by its landlord, Noel Tynan (who seems to live in Ireland, and therefore understands a great deal about the needs and desires of New Yorkers). Tynan reportedly refused to negotiate with Bill's owner, Barbara Bart Olmsted. The final day on Earth for Bill's will by March 24, confirmed the New York Times.

The article tells us a few interesting facts about the place—which make it all the harder to part with it:

*Greeter Aldo Leone, 88, is a close relative to the famed restaurateur Mama Leone!

*A false brick wall in the basement still opens to a secret room where liquor was kept during Prohibition.

The article said, "There has been talk that John DeLucie, a chef and owner of trendy restaurants like the Lion and Crown, may take over the spot, but details have not been confirmed."

It's happening. Believe me.

There have also been reports that Oldsted is going to take with her not only all the pictures on the walls, but the swinging bars and the bar itself. After they are gone, whatever DeLucie comes up with certainly won't bear any relationship to the old Bill's.