An Irish Pub Grows in Brooklyn
I might be beating this New York trip to death, but there are a few more memories I want to set down before they slip away…
For the first three installments, go HERE, HERE and HERE.
After Wes and I finished our pie at John’s of Bleeker Street, we headed off via subway toward Bed-Stuy and Hartley’s Pub for “trad night” – a regular session of traditional Irish Music where Taylor slings Jameson.
Hartley’s is a welcoming place. It doesn’t put on airs, and the vibe is chill. It’s a small place. The pub’s website cites it as “Brooklyn’s homiest Irish bar,” and it sits on the border of Bed-Stuy and Clinton Hill.
Taylor told us that a table was reserved for her group, and that’s a good thing because the place soon filled up to elbow-to-elbow status – with the musicians taking up residence at a regular table just across from us.
But Wes and I were early, and hung around outside for a bit until Taylor texted us and said to go in and claim the table. She and boyfriend Seán were en route. The place started to fill up. Before it did, we met bartender Milo, who pointed out the waiting high-top after I shook his hand about 2.5 million times. Sometimes I astonish myself.
Soon, Taylor came in with Seán, and she introduced us. I found him to be calm and kind – and conversation came easily. He is also a tall and a good-looking fellow. Did I mention he was Irish? Did I have to? I enjoyed meeting and speaking with him, and Wes did too – the pair talking about sports and fitness and, for both of them, an early decision to reinvent themselves through physical training.
How many times can you use the word “did” in a paragraph? See above.
Of course, we playfully roasted Taylor, but if you know her, that could be a slippery slope. I am happy to report that we survived.
I met a regular, Ms. Ronnie, and we ducked outside for a vape (me) and a smoke (her). She was born and raised in the area and ascended the municipal ranks from clerk to civil engineer. What a fantastic story.
We also met LG, the chef. About that time, Taylor took Wesley’s beloved Whole Food bag and brought it downstairs to store in the kitchen.
Later, Seán and I would pop out for a vape. Our conversation was relaxed and easy – and I was glad to get to know him.
It’s funny that as soon as Taylor was sure I was coming to New York with Wes, she sent me a selfie with Seán and said something like, “Unfortch, you’re going to meet this guy.”
Maybe it’s because I’m her father and she was about to introduce me to her boyfriend, but I found her choice of words hilarious. I get it. I took it to mean that there was no stopping a runaway freight train. But I asked her why she would say “unfortch,” and she told me Seán asked her the same thing. At any rate, I am glad he knows about it.
When I met him, I told him that “Unfortch” should be his nickname.
There was soon no room at the table – and some of their friends crowded around. Some of them I knew – Deniese, Kaja, Jacob, Mary – and it was great to meet the others. I am heartened that my daughter has a wonderful group of people in her life.
Wes doesn’t drink and has never had an interest in it. Maybe that’s because of my alcoholic incidents over the course of his young life. Taylor is another story, although I have rarely seen her completely shitfaced – rarely being the key word. Because I have been sober for nearly ten years, I never had the chance to drink with her. I mentioned that to her once. Believe me, she’s perfectly OK with that.
But the drinkers were well on their way that night. Come on now, it’s an Irish pub after all.
The music was awesome. No singing. This wasn’t “Dirty Old Town” or “Danny Boy.” It was just as it was supposed to be: Traditional. Instrumental. I seem to remember an Irish whistle, acoustic guitar, a fiddle and either a mandolin, dulcimer or bouzouki. I’m probably missing something. At any rate, the music component contributed to a great vibe – but soon the place was so crowded that the chatter threatened to drown out the musicians, who were strictly acoustic.
Wes and I decided it was time for us to head to Taylor’s apartment. We asked about the Whole Foods bag, and Taylor told us she would bring it home with her later. She also ordered a Lyft for us.
When Wes and I got there, we decided we were still a bit hungry – so we took a short walk in the neighborhood, around the corner to Brothers Pizza for a couple of slices. It’s a small place, the pizza was good and the guys who were working that night were friendly. It’s strange, but we seemed to be getting in more together time than we normally do at home in Myrtle Beach.
We still had one more day to explore.
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Roger Yale 
Beautiful family.
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