Little Chapel on the River

"I went to the US Naval Academy in Annapolis, MD along the timeline of your book. September 11 happened during the fall of my Freshman year and changed everything. We were only about 50 miles from the Pentagon and also received several threats in the coming weeks. I remember the February 2003 President's Weekend snowstorm and the East Coast blackout. But Guinans rang truer to me than anything else because there was a bar in Annapolis that I went to for four years, that reminded me exactly of the place. It was an Irish pub called Sean Donlons. Quirky regulars with wonderful stories, live Irish music several nights a week, Guiness and Harp on tap, darts, a soft spot for us Mids, a warm place during cold winter nights, always a bite to eat ready, and a million other fond memories. Unfortunately, shortly after I graduated in 2005, the bar was sold and changed into some "American" pub, presumably a sports grille. I have not returned since, nor will I. I guard thos...

"I'm hitchin a ride to redemption On this dark, hot July night The quarter moon's three nickels short The neon's not much light Townes and Zevon feed the engine Newbury's driving this old train I find myself smilin a bit As the sky begins to rain It seems the rails end up ahead But Mickey only smiles He's made this trip many a time His soul's walked evry mile So many times I needed an ace But only drew a seven Tonight's the night I win the pot Headin for the last bar in Heaven At the last bar in Heaven The shows they never end At the last bar in Heaven You can always find a friend At the last bar in Heaven There's no one getting stoned At the last bar in Heaven It always feels like home Seems the old friends always find me When the darkness fills my soul It doesn't take but a song or two And I'm feeling almost whole Forgiveness and redemption's What my old heart needs tonight This train I'm on will carry me From the darkness to the l...

Over in Sussex County, New Jersey , a former Brooklyn boy named David Serena is making a move to save the local Layton Country Store , part of the county’s history for more than 100 years. Lore goes, he says, that it was once a dry goods shop, morphing later into an eatery for hunters, fishermen and tourists. Dave, who owns a Wall Street consulting firm , seems an odd choice to run such a joint. But he’s picking up where old owners left off and handing the reins to his 19-year-old daughter and her boyfriend, who have a new son. The young family will move from Hoboken and take shifts with Mom and Pop working the store and acting as “waiters, waitresses, busboys and anything else that needs to be done,” Dave says. In return, Dave will rent them a house and the payments will be part of their compensation. Part of the charm will be mixing old world with new. He plans to tap the many local farms to highlight their products and goods and will prepare foods with fresh fare rather than mixes ...

..."It is with much regret that I learn of Guinan's closing. I'm sorry I never made the short trip tovisit. Your words paint a clear picture of a magical place and a wonderful group of souls. I'm a West Point Classmate of COL Tom, joining him and almost 1500 other new cadets in the summer of '76 at West Point. I've known of Tom's trip across the river for years, it was, and is, one of the enduring legends of our Class lore. I haven't spoken to Tom in years but reading of him, and the special bond that existed between him and Jim, and with the Chapel moved me, and reminded me of similar ties we all formed during those intense, packed years as cadets. Like I said, I never made the short trip to Garrison. I was part of the"Head to Newburgh" crowd to escape the 20 kilometer no drinking rule as a cadet. On my second trip there I would up at a party in a dorm at Mt. St. Mary College and met the young woman who I married almost 28 yearsago and whom...

This note came to me from Mike Koutsourades , brother of Georgia Christy who is an excellent licensed massage therapist on Garrison's Landing. (See page 31 of the paperback version of LC) Mike runs The Hudson River Shop on the side while he works in taxes for a large accounting firm. He resides in Delmar, N.Y. "I think your book will make Jim Guinan as famous as Benny Havens and Abe Sammons in Hudson Valley inn keepers folklore. I came across this Benny Havens website below. Interestly his place was so loved by West Pointers it was disassembled and moved after his death. Jim Guinan could be considered a modern day Benny Havens. This thought came to me as I read the chapter on Colonel Tom making his way across the Hudson as a cadet. Have you ever been to Highland Falls? The village is full of little homely bars: The Fireside, Benny's, The South Gate. Consider a evening out for "'research.' " Sincerely, Mike Koutsourades

My introduction to a place called Pirate’s Cove was to hear Kacey Jones sing her song, Never Wear Panties To A Party. Being fresh out of a divorce, this was exactly what I needed. It was the dead of winter. I was at a place that drew its name literally from the cove on which it sat, surrounded by water, the wind whipping from Wolf Bay just off the Gulf of Mexico, blowing through cracks that any of the dogs walking around the joint could have passed through. It was also so far out in the boonies that I suppose even pirates didn’t dare venture there. The little bitty space (Guinan’s fans understand that term, right?) had two wooden picnic tables brought in for the uppity customers such as myself that thought you should sit to listen to a performer. In fact, it was my first night at Pirates Cove that I was introduced to The Sweet Potato Queens and their theme song written by Kacey Jones . There was one outdoor heater that had been brought into the middle of the room where people huddled...

This is a poem written by Raymund Reddington about the last night of Shannon's Tavern in Jersey City, a joint also frequented by Fitz. (See page 46 of Little Chapel on the River.) What Was That Place? February 22, 2002 was the wintry date The for sale sign had been up for years Patrons were not surprised, it was fate Yet, the closing of the doors brought tears. Danny worked his last night behind the bar His eyes twinkled brighter than stars I asked, “Will you cry and be sensitive? He responded, “That’s a negative.” It was a place to catch a game Though the gamblers’ talk got heated You entered the place, you got greeted Everyone did know your name. Like lost children, the ex-patrons now roam Every so often by chance they do meet It’s here, there, or passing in the street Sometimes it’s in a bar, but it’s just not the same As that place named Shannon’s, we called home. By Raymond Reddington April 15, 2004

I got an email recently from Jody Kuh, one of the riders on Braking the Cycle along with Team Guinan. (Our adventures are chronicled in the Advocate magazine.) Jody wrote to say her "local" -- Mooney's Pub in Brooklyn, N.Y. -- is poised to close like Guinan's. "The neighborhood is definitely gentrifying but Mooney's has generally managed to negotiate the gentrification nicely - there's an incredible mix of the young and old there who all blend together and talk (much, seemingly, like Guinan's). It really is like losing a family member. We're all a bit dazed and trying not to make it one long funeral. The good news is that they were to be out as of November 30th, but there's been a reprieve for the moment. I'm sure they will close but it's not clear when. I'll keep you posted if you'd like." Please do. The New York Times published a nice piece recently about this Brooklyn relic, and reading it, I was struck by the s...

Dear Wendy, ... Even though I live in a small town in North Alabama, technology and travel have, at times, drowned out the important parts of life--like sipping a beer at a place called Guinan's and sharing life with the characters around you. We have a vacation home on a peninsula off the Alabama Gulf Coast known as Ft. Morgan. It has been, until now, a relatively undiscovered jewel on the Gulf Coast inhabited strictly by locals--very few tourists come through. At the tiny Ft. Morgan Marina was a bar called the Happy Hooker (double entendre intended) that became my sanctuary on my trips to the coast. Wanda and Fred (a female "Fred") tended bar and kept us "part timers" up to date on what was happening while we were gone. The locals--Cajun Dave, Crazy Jerry, Normal Jerry, Dirty Dan and Fast Eddie--lined the bar every afternoon to discuss politics, sports (southern football, of course) and the evils of real-estate development. They adopted me several ye...