Finn’s Closing
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- July
- 9
Finn McCool’s in White Plains was a watering hole where the local newspaper crowd used to hang out. It recently closed. There’s still Dunne’s but the truth is that except for the few remaining diehards with hollow legs and livers which should be donated to science, the after-hours drinking days are pretty much over.
But Finn’s was an OK saloon. I didn’t go there often, but I have enough memories of some interesting nights there—and one in particular a long time ago that I’d like to forget, and so (I’m sure) would the other person involved.
Strange thing. On Sunday, I was walking my dog on a field and feeling low. I was having one of those imaginary conversations you sometimes have with someone you’ll never speak to again in a thousand years. At one point, I muttered aloud, “I want my soul back.”
Just as I said it, a happy, little boy ran up to me. “Can I pet your dog?” He asked.
“Sure you can, absolutely,” I replied. Not far away, a woman whom I assumed was the boy’s mother was reading a book on the grass. She looked back and smiled. So I figured it was OK.
“Do you have a dog?” I asked.
“I have a kitten,” he said.
“That’s nice, ” I said. “I also have two cats.”
Finally, as I turned to go, I asked the boy his name. He told me, but I couldn’t quite hear what he said.
“Tim?” I said.
He corrected me. “No, Finn,” he said.
“Finn,” I repeated. “That’s a great name. I’ll see ya around, Finn.”
I swear this is true, and I have no idea what it means. Just one of those strange coincidences in life, probably. But that boy was an angel, and so was my dog. It was a moment of happiness and innocence, and for a moment it restored my spirit, if not my soul.
QUICK ADDENDUM:
Later that day, my next door neighbor in Yonkers was unloading some things from his car. On the sidewalk was a tall chair, the kind you find in a bar.
It was a Finn McCool’s chair. He had taken it as a memento. “Went there for 22 years,” he said.
This entry was posted
on Monday, July 9th, 2007 at 12:47 pm by Phil Reisman.
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Phil Reisman is a veteran journalist and native of Westchester County. He began his career in 1977 as the head copy boy of a startup New York City newspaper that quickly went belly up. Reisman was not to blame for the newspaper's failure, or so he claims.
THE PASSING BAR
With much regret and some lament I’ve learned the latest facts, about the imminent closing of the bar called Fric & Fracs’. Rosie served the day shift giving early birds the chance, to brace for Fran’s rendition of the tune ” Ten Cents A Dance”.
I think of all the many haunts that dotted our home town. I’d quench my thirst from dusk to dawn and then be homeward bound. McIntyre’s and Memingers kick off my arid quest. I’d warm up at the Fireplace and fly to the Eagles Nest.
I’d wake up every morning and wonder where I’d been and soon find out in places like Roy Beans or The Dew Drop Inn. The Halfway House, The Triangle and saloons from way back when, like Brunkies or The Green Hat and The Port of Missing Men.
Hughes’ and The Glenwood Pub, Edgar’s One and Two’s. You could start a package at 245’s and wind up in Suzie Q’S.
Should I jump into the Wishing Well and watch the liquor flow, or make a break for Grippos, where Mary cuts off Eddie Woe.
At Fore n’ Aft’s I’d start a ruckus and be tossed out like a fool. I’d search out another fond oasis, like the place called Finn McCool’s.
Let’s shed a tear into our beer and all the bars that close, and with a little note of thanks wish good luck to Fran and Rose. Fond memories of friends gone by , drinking buddies all . And a little bar called Fric & Fracs’
that’s about to make…..
LAST CALL…..
Fireplace in Yonkers / Riverdale?
Yes. Odd that I would spot your blog now. I just happened to drive by that area tonight. The Fireplace is now a Mexican cantina and a Chinese restaurant. Just one of several transformations it has undergone over the years. Did you go there?