two are before he went into another ghost story. This one happened a few years ago to the owner’s daughter, who used to work at the bistro. When she would leave at night, all the lights would shut off simultaneously. It’s physically impossible for one person to do this; the switches are on several different walls, and a couple of them are dimmer switches that slide to the “off” position. Yet whenever the young woman put her hand on one switch to shut it off, all the lights in the bistro would go out before she had a chance to flip even the one switch.
Several times, late at night when no one is in the building, the water tap in the sink at the waiters’ station has turned on and run full force, partially flooding the restaurant. Thomas said they have replaced the sink and faucet three times, and it still happens. He’s also replaced the doorknob on the right-hand ladies’ bathroom stall several times. Patrons have complained that “a force” holds the doorknob of that stall so tightly the customer cannot turn it. The lady gets so frustrated and frightened that she ends up damaging the doorknob or the hinges on the door. In this same stall, the toilet lid sometimes lowers itself silently. Women have taken time to line the seat with toilet tissue, and when they go to sit down, the lid is down.
Even though smoking is not allowed in New York City restaurants, Thomas says that quite frequently he’ll smell cigarette smoke downstairs by his office. The first time it happened, he went upstairs to chastise the lawbreaker, but no one was smoking there. Thomas attributes the smoke smell to the man who hanged himself upstairs in the 1920s, whom Thomas describes as “a tortured artist.”
Thomas recalled that, his first day on the job, he was downstairs in the then-manager’s office, seated on a chair by the well. The manager told Thomas that she believed the restaurant was haunted, and he said he didn’t believe in any of “that stuff.” With that, his chair lifted from behind and pushed him forward about four feet. He hasn’t doubted the ghosts since.
On many occasions when Thomas has been alone in his basement office, he’s heard the sound of footsteps walking up the stairs. The footsteps continue across the restaurant (due to the terrazzo tile floor, footsteps in the restaurant are easily heard in the basement). Halfway across the room, the footsteps stop. Where Thomas hears them stop is right above the well.
Thomas concluded our interview by saying that so many little things happen daily that he can’t keep track of them; he only takes notice of the significant ones. If you dine here, you might order the duck à l’orange—and you may have to actually duck to avoid being pelted by an errant champagne glass or wine bottle. Bon appétit!
CHAPTER 5
McSorley’s Old Ale House
JOHN MCSORLEY ARRIVED in New York City from Liverpool in 1851 on the ship Colonist. In 1854 he opened a saloon at 15 East Seventh Street, naming it The Old House at Home. It was a place for Irish immigrant workingmen to come and feel at home as they enjoyed a beer with some cheese and crackers. By 1908 a storm had ripped the original sign down, and it was replaced with a new sign bearing a new name: McSorley’s Old Time Ale House. Later on, the word Time was removed from the name, and to this day the establishment is called McSorley’s Old Ale House.
In 1910, at the age of 83, John McSorley died in his apartment above the bar. His son Bill took over the business. By 1936, two years before his death, Bill sold the bar to its first non-McSorley owner, Daniel O’Connell. Only a year later, in 1939, O’Connell died, leaving the bar to his daughter, Dorothy O’Connell Kirwan. Dorothy promised her father she would not allow women in the bar, and she kept that promise. She appointed her husband, Harry Kirwan, as the manager. Dorothy entered the bar only on Sundays, after closing time. Eventually, ownership was passed along to the Kirwans’ son, Danny.
The next owner of McSorley’s was Matthew Maher. He and Harry Kirwin had met by chance when Harry was visiting Ireland in 1964. Harry’s car broke down, and along came Matthew Maher to save the day. In return, Harry promised Maher a job if he ever came to New York City. Later that year, Matthew Maher began his employment at McSorley’s as a waiter and bartender. Maher was promoted to night manager of the bar, and in 1977 he purchased the bar from Danny Kirwan.
McSorley’s has been the subject of a stage play, of poetry by e.e. cummings, and of artwork by John Sloan. Its list of notable guests ranges from Abraham Lincoln to Woody Guthrie and John Lennon. The very chair Lincoln sat in is up above the bar, in fact; a few feet away hangs one of the original “Wanted” posters for John Wilkes Booth. Amazingly, the first time women were allowed in McSorley’s was in 1969, following a lawsuit, although a ladies’ restroom was not installed until 1990. Today, McSorley’s is the fourth oldest bar in New York City. (The oldest is the Bridge Café, another entry in this book; it is believed to have opened in 1794.)
My mother and I visited McSorley’s Ale House in January 2010. The bar is within walking distance of Cooper University, which I am sure the students there greatly appreciate. The swinging wooden doors with their oval windows are worn along the edges from 156 years of use. Sawdust is strewn over the floor, and a coal-burning potbellied stove keeps the place warm and inviting.
I met with a bartender known as Pepe who has bartended at McSorley’s since 1973. At first I thought it odd to see a black plastic garbage bag suspended at his waist under his apron, but I soon realized how much sense it made as waterproofing, or beer-proofing, for his trousers. Pepe’s real name is Steven Zwaryczuk. He’s not fazed by the reports of ghosts and other paranormal activity at McSorley’s. In fact, he laughingly pointed out two regular customers, Brian and Mark, as the most paranormal things to happen to him. Brian has been coming to McSorley’s since the early 1980s, when he was in the eighth grade. Back then, he said, he was the same height as he is now and weighed only about twenty pounds less. Mark was at the end of the bar where Mini, the cat, was curled up in the corner. I asked Pepe, “Has there been any time when you were completely ‘creeped out’ by being here?” Without missing a beat, he pointed to Brian and replied: “Nothing has ever creeped me out except him!”
Mark chimed in that a friend of his who once rented the apartment above the bar would occasionally hear tables and chairs moving, as well as distant voices, long after the bar was closed for the night.
Pepe was kind enough to bring owner Matthew Maher down to the bar so I could interview him. Although Matthew has been living and working in New York City since 1964, he’s maintained a sweet Irish brogue. I asked him, “Have you had any ghostly experiences while working here?” and he chuckled and said, “Have ya got a year to spare?” Well, that certainly got my attention.
Maher told me that McSorley’s is famous for always having at least one feline “on staff” at the bar. One night after closing, Maher was cleaning the kitchen. He returned to the bar area and saw the cat at the end of the bar purring and nuzzling up against an unseen hand that was petting it. According to Dr. Philip Ernest Schoenberg, tour guide for Ghosts of New York, whenever a cat is seen in the window of McSorley’s, Harry Houdini is present as the spirit inside the cat. Why Houdini, you ask? Dr. Schoenberg claims that the set of handcuffs secured to the footrail of the bar once belonged to Houdini.
Minnie is part of a long tradition of cats at McSorley’s.
Maher also pointed out the print depicting McSorley’s that hangs behind the bar. He said that when a local artist presented the print to him, Maher immediately commented, “Very nice! You even included one of the McSorley’s cats.” The artist, appearing confused, stood back and carefully examined the print. He told Maher that he never painted the cat and had no idea how it ended up in the finished print. The cat’s body is facing the entrance of McSorley’s,
