Mahoney sat at the bar, staring at the screen of the laptop. On it was a story about the Kildare that Hartman had arranged through one of his media contacts.
Battling Barkeeps Open Watering Hole
They’ve battled each other for almost a decade, one a gruff big-time newspaper columnist, the other a PR whiz for one of the most controversial mayors New York had ever known. But now, Phil Mahoney and Jerry Mills have put old grudges aside to go into business together.
The pair vow to try and get along, but on a recent visit to the Kildare Tavern it appeared that peace between the two men was at times still an aspiration, rather than an achievement.
What is obvious is that the newly renovated Kildare is going to be one interesting place to grab a drink, especially when these two are in the bar.
“Wow,” Mahoney said. “This ought to get people to come in.”
“Not too bad, huh?” Mills asked, from the other side of the bar.
“Yeah, I kind of like the whole, “Battling Barkeeps” theme.
“Reuben said the Times called and wants to send someone by,” Mills said.
“Not one of those food critic types, I hope.”
Mahoney got up and went behind the bar and filled a glass with water. He took a drink and looked around. The bar looked great. The sun was shining in and it felt comfortable and welcoming. It was Friday, November 28, the day after Thanksgiving, and the plan was to unlock the door in about a half-hour at eleven a.m., and wait for the first patron.
“Who do you think is first through the door?” Mills asked.
“Probably the guy sleeping on the sidewalk a few blocks over,” Mahoney said.
Mills took a seat at the bar and said, “Today is my separation day from NIT. Feels more like Independence Day. It’s an odd feeling, going from a corporate job to being a bar owner.”
“The guy who wrote that NIT evaluation is an ass. No way he wanted you around, you were a threat,” Mahoney said.
“That place was a disaster. I should have never taken that spot in the first place.”
“Maybe we do evaluations here eventually,” Mahoney said. “You know, get some consultant to come in and charge us a ton to set up a whole elaborate process. Maybe we have some core values, and all that corporate crap.”
Mills shook his head. “No thanks. Believe me, I’m not going to miss that world.”
“You sure?”
“Yup. What about you?” Mills asked. “You going to miss your old world?”
“My time was up in that world,” Mahoney said, raising his glass. “To a new world.”
“Funny how hard we fight to hold onto the things we don’t actually want,” Mills said.
The pair went about the business of making sure everything was in place. Mahoney swept the floor a final time. Mills busied himself making sure the kitchen was warmed up and the prep work was started for the cook when he arrived. Shortly before eleven there was a rap on the door. Mahoney saw Jen and Cheryl standing outside, opened the door a crack and said, “Sorry, we’re closed. Private party.”
“I know the owner,” Jen said, stepping in and pushing past him.
Cheryl was a step behind her. “Where’s my husband?” she asked.
“In the kitchen. Drinking heavily and chopping onions with a very sharp knife,” he said.
“Just like home,” she said.
The women came in and took over a small table in the bar area, draping their coats across the backs of the chairs and putting their bags down.
“What’s a girl got to do to get a drink around here?” Jen asked.
“Make it herself,” Phil said, walking behind the bar. “Just kidding. What’ll you have? Nothing complex, okay? Water would be a good example of something not complex.”
“Good, I’ll have an exceedingly dry martini,” she said.
The drinks were made and Mahoney went back and found Mills in the kitchen. “Nice look,” he said, pointing to the white apron protecting his partner’s dress slacks and button down shirt.
“Could have used one of these in City Hall, you know protect me from all the mud being slung around,” Mills said.
“Hey, a couple of middle-aged broads just came in. They want to know if we can join them for a drink.”
“Can’t we wait for some younger clientele?”
“Don’t think so. These two won’t take no for an answer,” he said.
They went out to the bar and Mahoney poured glasses of champagne. They joked about drinking in the middle of the day and took turns toasting their future.
“To a new adventure,” Mills said.
“And to the wives who demanded it,” Mahoney said.
“Before you open the door, we have something for you,” Jen said.
“A large sack of cash, I hope,” her husband said.
Cheryl reached inside one of the bags and pulled out a square of wood.
“Just what we need a piece of wood,” Mills said.
“It’ll come in handy when someone punches a hole in the wall,” Mahoney said.
“You two through?” Jen asked.
Mahoney shrugged. “I’m good.”
“This is a piece of wood from the original bar,” Cheryl said.
“Huh?” Mahoney said.
“We saw the pile of wood in the back when we stopped by a few weeks back and grabbed a piece,” Jen said. “We had it trimmed and coated with something to preserve it.”
“We thought it would be a great way to remind you two of the history of the place,” Cheryl said.
“And your own history,” Jen said.
Mahoney took it and examined it, turning it over in his hands and then giving it to Mills.
“I got the perfect spot for it,” he said, walking to the bar. “Where was it, Jerry, right about here?” he asked tapping a spot midway down the bar.
“That’s about right,” Mills said.
“This is where Jerry performed his perfect blitzing linebacker tackle on me,” he said.
“Only after Phil fired off a textbook uppercut that knocked the wind out of me,” Mills said.
Mahoney went behind the bar and came back with a Phillips head screwdriver.
“He’s become so handy recently,” Jen said.
“Here, let me see the wood,” he said. “Let’s carve two Ms in it.” He put the wood on the bar and scratched a large M into it, then gave Mills the screwdriver. He watched his partner carve another large M over his so the two letters were interlocking.
“I’ll be right back,” Mills said, crossing the bar and going back to the office. He was back a moment later with a hammer and a few thin nails. He took the wood and walked to the spot where the two had crashed through the old bar. “You mind,” he asked, looking at Mahoney.
“Not at all. Thanks for asking,” he said. “Partner.”
Mills nailed the square into the bar and two of them stood back admiring it.
“It’s like one of those stone monuments you see marking the site of a historic battle. Like from the Revolutionary War,” Mahoney said.
“Remind me never to give them anything nice again,” Jen said to Cheryl.
“They’ll just deface it and drive nails through it,” Cheryl said.
Mahoney checked his watch and turned to Mills. “Five of eleven. I’m ready if you are.”
“I’m ready,” he said, as they shook hands.
Mills crossed the bar to the front door and Mahoney looked to their wives. “Thanks,” he said. “Maybe you two can stick around and throw out the first drunk.”
Mills turned the sign in the window on, then looked back and flashed a thumbs-up. He turned the lock and pushed the door open and a loud, baritone voice boomed from the sidewalk.
“It’s about time. I’ve been waiting out here forever for you to open this damn place. Now get me something to drink.”
Mahoney looked at the women. “Oh God, what have we gotten into?”