THOR

For the past five or so years I've kept a wary eye on the Hotel on Rivington (THOR). I can't remember when they started building it, but it seems like ages ago. I'm thinking it was mid-to-late 2002. Because I have a picture I took in early 2003 where the structure had already topped out. Then from what I recall, it seems like construction halted for a long period of time, creating an eyesore of uncovered rusty steel beams. According to wikipedia, the building was completed in 2005, around the same time I moved to an apartment about four blocks away. But before I even moved to New York I was aware that the corner of Ludlow and Rivington was the location of the famous panoramic image featured on the cover of the Beastie Boys album Paul's Boutique. I even edited the album's wikipedia page when a new bar opened up this summer that seemingly paid homage to another store in the photo, Spitzer's Corner Shop. Then at some point it became Spitzer's Dress Shop (see photo above, which I took summer of 2004) and the bar now it its place is just known as Spitzer's Corner. THOR, known as a "trademark of gentrification in the Lower East Side," has since gone on to host countless rooftop/penthouse parties. Walking on nearby Delancey, I've often looked up in envy and seen people taking in the views at sunset. Indeed, I came across a photo several weeks ago, taken by Jake Dobkin, who had the opportunity to photograph one of said parties up top. One of the many things I love about the photo is that it shows the back of my building, on its Orchard Street side (it's the building that's next to the building that touches the taller building with the white columns. Click on photo, left, to enlarge). A couple weeks ago Yvonne and I snuck into THOR and took the elevator to the top floor, naively thinking we'd find access to the rooftop. After getting off on the 20th floor we were confronted with the oddness of one of the luxury suite's doors being wide open. We concluded there was a housekeeper inside cleaning. We found a stairwell and went up one more story on the very sticky stairs (too many spilled drinks) but alas were turned away by the ubiquitous orange roof door alarm. Not wanting to go all the way back down to the ground floor, we got off on the second floor. That's when we came across something that surprised me greatly: a nice Brunswick pool table (not coin-operated). After not being able to find any pool balls and feeling a bit like we were about to get kicked out, a friendly concierge-type person came in and asked if we wanted to play pool. All I had to do was give them my ID in exchange for the balls and a rack. So it was a very unexpected surprise. We played for a half hour or so while drinking juice drinks from tall glasses.The pool table is reserved primarily for guests of the hotel and patrons of the bar. So it's not like they encourage people to come in off the street and practice their pool for free. But the second floor bar is open Thursday through Saturdays and anybody can go to the bar at that point. The table had black felt and played very nicely. But the dark felt combined with somewhat uneven overhead lighting made it a little more difficult to see the pockets (cloudy Sunday around 5pm didn't help much).It's doubtful I'll go there with any regularity simply to practice, especially considering I have to buy something from the bar. But I do think it's really classy to have a pool table that's free for hotel guests. Part of me wonders if there's every any high-stakes action with twenty dollar bills being thrown around (I sort of doubt it). Or if it's just young urban professionals sipping $12 martinis playing 20-minute games of doubles (more likely). Regardless, there's definitely some sort of potential there. Next time I'm walking back from the East Village on a weekend night I see people upstairs playing I'm definitely stopping in.

Bar 169

What an obscure place 169 Bar is. I guess I must have walked by it a couple years ago as I was exploring what was then my new neighborhood on the Lower East Side. It's named after its address, 169 E. Broadway, and faces Straus Square, which is formed by the intersection of E. Broadway, Canal and Essex/Rutgers Streets at Seward Park. The bar was closed, but I looked through the window and could see a pool table way in the back. A month or so later I went back and went in to play a couple practice racks. Other than the table being a bit too tight of a fit near the restrooms, I remember there was a hideous customized design/logo on the felt surface, something pertaining to a poker tournament or some event in Vegas perhaps, I can't remember exactly. The only time I ever heard anybody mention the bar was at nearby Whiskey Ward when I asked some folks where else they play pool. Bar 169 is about as far off the beaten path as you can get. But in my opinion that's never a bad thing.

A few weeks ago, bored from all my regular pool places, I was walking home when I decided to go to 169 for a nightcap. It was pretty late on a Thursday, had possibly even spilled over to Friday by then. I was hungry for anonymity and in search of a fresh environment. I was pleased to see some people playing pool, but when I asked if I could play the winner they said they only wanted to finish their game and be done. So as I was putting in my quarters afterwards a kid came up to me and seemed eager to play. I egregiously suggested a game of bank the eight. I made quick work of him in that game, then was approached by a very young-looking girl who wanted to play her friend. Since I had done what I set out to do and it was late, I said I'd give her the table as long as I could take a photo. She was a little hesitant since she was under 21, but I said something like "Oh don't worry, I just want to show the overall scene."

The resulting photo (above), and the strength of her break shot, pretty much sums up how I feel about the place: sort of ho-hum. But I would never say I won't return. I'm not one to post comments on bar review sites such as citysearch, baropinions, dodgeball, etc. But the comments I came across regarding Bar 169 were overwhelmingly negative, some approaching hateful: "If it was possible to contain all of the human excrement that is produced yearly in the United States and fashion a bar and it's [sic] staff out of the sh*t, 169 Bar would be the place." Ouch. The reviewer, nbettie, vowed never return to 169 and "matter, of fact, I would prefer to drink my own urine." Since 169 is a live music bar, many of the comments dealt with the soundman/sound sytem, everything from being denied soundchecks to the sound system being "too tinny and too laden with bass all at once." One reviewer said the bar is a "trap for the working artists of NY" that "pretends to be a friendly lower east side bar presenting live music but the truth is that they are spamming musicians through myspace and then taking the money they make at the door, and spend at their bar on show nights" (whatever that means).

As for the clientele, one reviewer said "each patron looks depressingly alone" and another said there are "a lot of old people, and not hot cougars and dilfs either...a bit grim." Even the bar's pets don't go unscathed. Folks described the "ugliest aquatic creatures ever displayed" in the "bottom-feeder-friendly fish tank."

Personally, I agreed most with whoever wrote that Bar 169 is a "homemade lounge/dive eluding classification" that "looks a little thrown-together." Without a doubt, the most glowing and positive review (and, interestingly, the one that gave the best props to the pool table) was written over four years ago by the folks at Lockhart Steele, who said it's "a divey joint, with a good pool table (naturally)" that "transcends the utter diviness of, say, Blue and Gold." But by late 2004, somebody was asking if Bar 169 had "jumped the shark," calling into question the venue's hosting of an amateur female Jello wrestling night.

A Postcard from Doc Holliday's

I've been playing a lot at Doc Holliday's lately. The bar has long been a staple of my East Village circuit. It's the kind of place where, even if nobody's playing, I'll go ahead and rack the balls and ask around to find an opponent. And it never fails that if I'm playing with a group of people for a while I'll get to know them a bit and take some snaps (above, my apologies for the obnoxious tilt correction). Typically I go in around 7 o'clock and catch the last bit of happy hour and stay a couple hours. Then it's over to Sophie's, which is just waking up by then. Sophie's and Doc Holliday's have a unique history in terms of pool. The captain of my team, Caveman, actually started our team based out of Doc Holliday's around 1994 (but he got 86'd on 9/11 for making an inappropriate comment to one of the bartenders). Last year I was informally offered Doc's Sunday team by its captain, as they had had enough and were disbanding. I declined, as I was happy with my Tuesday night gig. Now that Whiskey Ward has a Tuesday night team, maybe it's time for Doc's to enter the fray again. I'm still pretty loyal to Sophie's. But to tell you how much of regular I have become at Doc's, I was there a couple weeks ago and it was much later, like 10:30 or so. I had been on a good string of games (bank the eight, any pocket) with some players who ended up leaving around the time my friend Aris showed up. So when a group of NYU-looking youngsters came in and asked the doorman, Steve, how to get on the pool table for a game of doubles, I was sort of honored that he felt comfortable enough to fit them in ahead of us (he of course thanked me). We were off to get a slice so anyway, so it was not like I needed to hog the table any more than I had. It's just cool that he knew I would have done the same thing.

Stamina

It's been an interesting postseason for those of us at Sophie's. A couple Tuesday nights ago, three of us from the team were hanging out at at the bar enjoying a quiet, off-season night of pool. Around 7 o'clock, the bar's phone rang. Howard, the bartender, handed the phone to Freddy, saying it was something related to the pool team. It was the captain of the team from Why Not bar at 40th and 9th, asking us where we were. Turns out, our team had gotten the wild card but for whatever reason our captain had not gotten the word. Very quickly we ruled out taking a cab to Why Not to play. That wouldn't have been fair to the rest of the team. I made a bunch of phone calls and long story short we were able to reschedule the match so that we wouldn't have to post a forfeit (thanks to all involved in that, you know who you are). The rematch was this past Tuesday at Why Not and we lost to them 0-3. But it wasn't like it was a total shutout for us. Our first two players, both 4s, got to the hill in their matches, against a 5 and a 6. Then it was me, a 5, vs a 6. And it was a grinder, going over 40 innings and nearly two hours. It started out close, tied at two games a piece, then I just ran out of steam and allowed him to take the last three games in a row. Looking back, there were a handful of moments where I wish I had just taken a few more seconds on my shots. I had an easy runout in one game, but as I was preparing to go for it the palm of my bridge hand, which was sort of cupped around my opponent's 9 ball, barely, imperceptible to everyone but me, touched it. It didn't even really move the ball. But I admit here and now to the world that I should have called myself out on it. My opponent probably would have said "Go ahead, don't worry about it." Instead, I allowed it to distract me and I hastily shot and blew an opportunity to get to the hill. As they say, hindsight. I'm going to try to take a few days off from pool. Just wanted to post something about the end of the summer session (my 101st entry to this blog, as it turns out). Above is a mix of new and old team members from Sophie's. Left to right: Cary Conover, Josh Vietze, Adam Friedstein, Joseph Williams (aka Slima), Chris Cino, Grace Mangum and Wilfredo Correa.

Deep Brooklyn

After repeatedly seeing a John Varvatos advertisement featuring Aerosmith's Joe Perry playing pool in Brooklyn at a place called "Playboy Billiards" I did a little research. About the only press I could find online is that it was voted "Best Pool Hall" by New York Press in 2006. My ears perked up when I read they had a billiards table. So on a rainy Sunday night last month, I paid a visit to the place, which now goes by the name Brooklyn Billiards. After being there I definitely feel it is an underrated gem, a very special place. For those who haven't read the NYP article, here it is in its entirety:

For close to 30 years Brooklyn Billiards on Coney Island Avenue was Playboy Billiards—until the assholes at Playboy decided all of a sudden that there was a trademark issue and forced the name change. With one table for billiards, about 20 for pool and two ping-pong tables in the back, the place isn't very big. But it houses a lot of talent. The tables are all in good shape with new felt that's properly tended. There are some broomsticks among the house cues, but it doesn't take long to find a straight one with a good tip. On any given day during working hours one can find between three and ten of the 20 or so guys who call the place home. Out of this cast of regulars there's a handful that can really play pool, but it's the billiards players who are some of the city's best. Nighttime and weekends belong to the local teenagers, mostly Russians, Russian Jews, Orthodox Jews, Italians and Pakistanis. Anybody looking for a real game is advised to visit during off-hours when it caters to pool players, not teenagers. As in most pool rooms, the first table is the action table. With tight pockets and good rails it's mostly reserved for 9-ball, but you'll occasionally see straight pool or a bunch of guys bored enough to get a group game going. There used to be this one Orthodox kid who played, we think his name was Steve, who was one of the best amateur players we've ever seen. Now he's got a wife and kid and not much time for running tables.

When I want to practice three cushion I am accustomed to taking the B, D, F or V train to 42nd Street to transfer to the Queens-bound 7 to go to either Carom Cafe, Spin City Billiards or Master Billiards. So I was more than willing to hop on a Brooklyn-bound F, which would drop me off about 15 minutes away from Brooklyn Billiards. I called ahead just to make sure they still had the billiard table and to check on its availability. The man said most of the billiard players rarely come in at night so therefore I would likely have it all to myself. So I got on the F train and took it to Avenue N and walked the 10 blocks to Coney Island Avenue. I had never been in that exact area of Brooklyn (we'll call it somewhere between Ocean Parkway, Mapleton and Midwood) and was impressed with Ocean Parkway itself, a grand boulevard with long, tree-canopied sidewalks. It was a pleasant walk through a slight drizzle. Rounding the corner onto Coney Island Avenue I could sense I was getting close to the place, as I saw a bunch of young men outside smoking cigarettes. Walking into Brooklyn Billiards I got a sense of going back into a different era. If you can imagine Katz's Deli on Houston Street having pool tables, this would be it. Inside there is nothing luxurious or fashionable, no obnoxious neon lights or decor. It's just a nice, classic pool hall.

Initially, my thinking was that I would have to wait for the billiard table, because a man was already using it. I resigned myself to the fact that I would just practice on a pool table until he was done. But the man behind the counter suggested I go up to him and ask him if he wanted to play. So I went over and introduced myself and he willingly obliged and let me join him. He got everything set up for the opening shot, putting the red object ball on the foot spot and the white and yellow cue balls about six inches away from each other on the head string. Since it was his table and he was nice enough to let me play, even going so far as to give me take the first shot, I decided I would concede the white cue ball to him and take the yellow for myself. I chalked up, got down on my shot, fired away and surprisingly came within several inches of a successful billiard shot (a relatively high percentage shot, it's a fairly easy shot if you've practiced it or ever seen the setup. Check here to see an example). The man, whose name was Pedro, easily scored a few points before I got my first point. There was one memorable time early on when I was looking over a shot, hesitating which way to go. The white and the red were right next to one another in a corner. And I was waiving my hands around like an idiot trying to figure out the angle when he simply pointed his cue to a certain diamond and said "Hit here, right english." Sure enough, my ball went three rails around the table, came back slowly to hit two more rails and then softly nudged into both the white and the red. One time, his cue ball double-kissed the red ball, but still hit enough rails and made contact with my yellow at the end. "In my country, we don't count that." I asked him where he was from, thinking he'd say somewhere in South America. Turns out he's from Puebla, Mexico. After about 20 minutes, I had gotten comfortable to the Verhoeven biljart table and was somewhat relieved to have avoided a shutout. I had scored about five points when I came very close to nailing a difficult "ticky." Sometimes I would sense Pedro wanted to give me advice on a shot, at which point I would stubbornly stop and indicate I wanted to try to figure it out on my own. But it was unmistakable, Pedro had definitely grown up playing billiards. Many times he would make two points in a row, and may have actually made three in a row once. When it's played correctly, three-cushion billiards is truly hypnotic to watch. In the end, the score was 10-20 before Pedro decided that it was over. I didn't know we were playing to any set number. Overall I was happy with myself, happy to have gotten the chance to play "against" another person, taking small pride in the fact that I got to 10 before he got to 20. Hell, I was happy that I got to 10, period, considering I was only shooting about half as often as I would have if I had just been playing by myself.

I had a good time. The vibe at Brooklyn Billiards is very chill. Playing next to our table were some young girls, one of which was wearing a hijab. It was cute to watch them play. Lots of cool pictures on the wall, the coolest of which was a large French poster for the movie The Hustler ("L'Arnaqueur"). Interestingly, it was Gleason-less and featured a pocketless table. Also there were outtakes from the Varvatos shoot. Lots of other things have been filmed there, some TV shows, music videos, and I think a scene from one of the Men In Black movies. The owner, Neil Block, wrote me an email out of the blue last week after I had left my contact information there. He seems to take pride when he writes "We have not changed a thing in this place for the past 30 years." And I hope he continues to not change a thing.

New tip

I splurged this week and paid $38 to have my cue professionally retipped. The past few times I've done it myself (see below). What I do is take a single-edge razor to slice off the old tip. Then I shave off any glue residue from the ferrule to get it as flat as possible before using Krazy Glue to apply the new tip. Last time I did this I messed up and didn't use enough glue and the tip came off. So I cleaned everything up and tried again, but on the second attempt the glue hardened before I got the tip on perfectly even. It was a fraction of a millimeter off. I decided to stick with it, as it wasn't enough to mess up my shots...just enough for me to be annoyed with myself. Before long, it was worn down (very likely due to my incessant use of the Cue Cube). I kept putting off buying a new tip, not wanting to go through the whole hassle of doing it myself again. At some point I saw this video and I was mesmerized by the precision of it all. Eventually, last week, I brought my cue to Blatt's and a guy named Earl presented me with a few options. I think he got out a Le Pro, an Elk and a Sterling, ranging from (I can't remember exactly) from $10 to $25 installed. I told him I like to use the cube scuffer a lot and that I was hoping for a longer-lasting tip. I also mentioned that I was hoping to be able to get a little more draw from a tip. That's when he put all the tips away and went to another room. He came back with a few Moori tips. I immediately liked the handsome tan color of the tip and its many layers, as opposed to the darker, compressed-looking tip I had been using. He said it would cost $40 to have a Moori put on, but for me it would be $35 because my cue, a 20 ounce Smith & Wesson was purchased at Blatt. I chose a Moori III Medium. So far, no complaints. We'll see how long it lasts.

East River Bar

I've lived in New York for over seven years and during that time many of my assignments for the Village Voice have been to photograph bars. I would guess I've photographed at least 60-70 by now. Some are memorable, most are not so much. In 2004 I was assigned to photograph East River Bar, which is located on the Brooklyn side of the Williamsburg Bridge. With the bars I always like to call ahead of time to let them know I'm coming and ask when the best time is. I can't remember exactly, but the owner or manager at ERB would have said something like "Sure, come on over tonight. We should have a good crowd by around 8:30 or 9:00." So I walked over the bridge, pausing on the Brooklyn side to admire the sunset over Lower Manhattan. I arrived at the bar and saw immediately that almost everybody was out on the patio, where you can bring your own food to grill (BYOBBQ). There was a couple inside playing pool and so I dutifully photographed them as well. Over a year later, in the fall of 2005 when I had begun playing regularly, I went back to ERB in search of a game. This time, unfortunately, nobody was playing pool but I still wanted to shoot around a bit. The table was more beat up than I remembered, and it been re-oriented since my first visit, presumably because they have live music on the same platform. I do recall one funny detail, and I wish I had taken a picture of it: apparently the 8 ball had gone missing and so they got out a spare cue ball and used a marker to draw the number 8 with a circle around it. I am due for another visit, perhaps this winter once it's cold and they've got the portable fireplace up and running.

Sophie's photo roundup, part three

It's been seven months since I did a roundup of pictures from Sophie's (you can click here and here to see previous photo roundups). Up top is Fulvia, who speaks with a very distinctive Italian accent. A few weekends ago I played her twice in one night, beating her both times. The next night she was back and we played again and I won again, but I let her have the table.


Adam from Sophie's takes a shot as Darin looks on. Darin also plays in the league, out of Musical Box over on Avenue B. I like this picture because it seems to sum up both players' styles and personalities. Adam is talkative, a bit of a jokester, and a pretty fast, animated player. Darin has a much more quiet, cooled down personality, and his playing style is much more on the careful, cautious side.


I played Lazlo at Pioneer in 2003 or so, and I thought he was a bona fide pool shark. Just the way he carried himself, the way he used his foot to spin the cue when chalking, his fast style of playing, etc. After he destroyed me I thought he may have taken my bag (turns out a friend had moved it for me), so I went out to confront him about it. I said "Alright man, where's my bag?" He looked at me with amusement and said "I"ll pay your rent." Lazlo is from Budapest. Here he is pictured above at left with some friends, during a much friendlier confrontation. In the middle photo is Will, who plays at Musical Box with Darin. Will is an exceptionally talented player in the Hispanic tradition. He is a veteran of the Hamilton Fish rec center, and can play last pocket with the best. At right is Johnny from Colorado. Johnny plays a lot at Joe's on 6th and at Ace Bar, where he works. He has been receptive to the idea of playing for the Sophie's team.


Grace, the North Carolinian. Grace got bumped up to a 3 this season. Season highlight for Grace was her slaying of two 5s. Last time I wrote about Grace it was in June and we were only a couple matches into the season. I wrote that she was adjusting to the competitiveness of the APA. She definitely seems to have gotten over her jitters, and we look forward to having her on board this fall.


I have no idea who this guy was. But he was very drunk and I think he got kicked out of the bar that night. Anybody who swings a pool stick around like that should. I didn't want to go anywhere near him.


Finally, a shot of our beloved Slima (right) taunting Chris. Chris was on our team two seasons ago, but will hopefully be returning in the fall. This was taken on a league night where I had to leave for an assignment, and so I had my digital camera with me. Actually, now that I think about it, it was taken after my assignment, when I came back to Sophie's. That's actually one of my favorite times to be at the bar: after a match. Win or lose, we like to put the scoresheet away and play "bar" (rules).