My old friend Zebra standing in front of Lynch's.
Dan Lynch was on the west side of Second ave., between 13th and 14th streets. I spent many a Sunday afternoon there, hanging out at the blues jam. And I consumed much Jack Daniels. In fact, after I moved to PA and hadn't been there for a few years I went back for a gig and ordered a coke and the barmaid, Alex, looked at me like I was crazy and said, "what, you're not drinking?"
I remember one time I brought my dog, Snapper, down there for a beer. We were sittin' in the corner, quietly drinking, (Snapper's glass was on the floor), and Bill Dicey was recording a live album. So when he finished a song and everybody was applauding I told Snapper to bark, so as to add her doggy voice to the accolade. The bartender Mike, a short, muscular black man, came over and said, "you can't have a dog in here"; I said, "this dog's a paying customer". That didn't make a difference to Mike , so we finished our beers and we left. But somewhere out there is a live Bill Dicey album with a barking dog on it.
One day I was sitting at the bar in Lynch's, drinkin' a Jack Daniels on the rocks, waiting to see which one of my friends was gonna come by, when a guy came in who wasn't supposed to be there. I guess Mike had thrown him out several times before and he just hadn't gotten the message, so this time Mike came out from behind the bar and hit him in the face with a short piece of pipe and broke his nose. He left, bleeding as he went. It was always relaxing to spend Sundays down at Lynch's, hanging out with the usual crowd.
Lynch's is gone now. It closed up a year or two ago. Andy told me that a new, fancy restaurant had opened up where Lynch's used to be. "You wouldn't recognize the place", he said. I miss those days at Lynch's and all the people who used to hang out there. Many of them are gone too. Nat died of leukemia in '91; Lenny died five years later of I don't know what. Brenda Bell, who sang the blues and recorded on Lenny's Spivey label, died years before, of cancer. Mike had a heart attack, I think, and he died sometime in the '80s. Ori Sharf, the promising young guitar player also passed away in the '80s. I think he had leukemia too. Bill Dicey , who started it all, died of cancer in '93. The doorman, whose name I can't remember, OD'ed sometime in the late '80s. Snapper died in '94 at the age of 16 and a half. I hear that Lorraine is not doing so good. And I hear that Claude Richardson, who used to play bass with Bill has fallen on hard times too. Last time I saw Harry Holt, the great bassist, he looked like death himself. Nat's girlfriend, Kelly's sister, died a long time ago. But I hear that JOJO, the statuesque black man, who used to come to the jams and, as long as I've know him, play the same two Hendrix songs, is alive and well. Barry went on to play with Johnny Copeland and now travels all over the world in his daughter Shemekia's band. Seth Okrand moved to Chicago for a few years but now he's back in NYC. Charlie Fiore moved out to CA. I moved to PA with my girlfriend Kris. Larry moved to NJ with his wife, Susan. Jersey Slim moved away too, but I can't say where because there are probably people he owes money to looking for him. I miss those days at Lynch's. It would be nice to go back one more time, and have one more Jack Daniels on the rocks with Bill and Nat and Lorraine and the rest. But that ain't gonna happen. Those days are gone forever.
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