Photo by Daniel S. Burnstein
ENOUGH ABOUT THAT new wine bar that opened down the block; it wouldn’t be New York without gritty drink holes.
First stop, the rear end of Port Authority; Blue Ruin is located on West 41st Street and Ninth Avenue. On a recent drop in, there was a vagrant sitting on the sidewalk outside of the bar gumming pizza.The bum may have needed a bath, but his stank made it feel just like old times. Blue Ruin is the newest resident in the space that formerly housed Bellevue, which was one of the city’s most infamous dives. I mostly remember the charms of urinating in the unisex bathroom.
The new owners have made vast improvements to the space. It no longer feels like you are going to catch leprosy just by sitting on one of the barstools. All the good dive bar stuff is there: a pool table in the back, incredibly dim lighting and a long wooden bar. There are also some nice, homey touches: The ceiling is made of tin, a gigantic American flag hangs draped behind the bar and the glow of the blue neon sign is just bright enough to illuminate the panties hanging from one of the space’s lighting fixtures.
The patrons are hard to group together; the only “scene” on exhibit here is that of heavy drinking. Ruin has a daily two-for-one special that runs until 8, drawing a unique bunch. Bartender Alicja Schladebeck describes the allure of a mixed Midtown crowd:“We get gay, straight, mixed up Goth, screwed up hipster, black, white, gray. There’s something new all the time.”
The Local 269, located on East Houston Street between Avenues A and B, doesn’t succeed in bringing together drinkers of all stripes.The bar’s problem is not that it doesn’t try, it’s that it tries too hard.The space follows the Dive Bar 101 rule book: 2-for-1 happy hour? Check.Abundant specials intended to do nothing other than get you drunk? Check (try 5 shots for $10 if you’re looking for a pass-out-in-the-gutter sort of evening). Broken ladies room lock that forces bathroomgoers to manically hold the door closed while on the toilet? Check. By hitting all of these marks, Local succeeded in drawing a hip-looking group of young musicians and drinkers. And therein lies the problem.
Ask yourself what’s more authentic: attractive hipster types spending the last of their parent- provided money at Local 269, or the motley crew at Blue Ruin spending the last pennies of their unemployment check? The spaces are both dingy and drunk, but only one wins the genuine dive award. Congratulations Blue Ruin. It’s heartening to know that,were there a trophy given for this award, it would be promptly stolen by your patrons.






