Election day in Harlem (long)

[brianvh]

Thought I'd posted this last night, but don't see it. Anyway, took a while, here's what the night was like in harlem:
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Thought for an election this special I’d do something unique, like stop at every bar up and down Broadway, but neither the night or my liver would hold out, so settled with visiting the northernmost and southernmost bar in Manhattan. Since I didn’t have this bright idea until late afternoon I had scant hope of convincing any friends to go with me, so headed north accompanied by nothing but best wishes and demands to tell the story afterwards.

I dropped anchor in Liffy II shortly after 8 pm, just a few blocks shy of the Bronx bridge. It’s a cosy bar with richly stained wood and red drapes. Stuffed chairs sit about an unlit fireplace. The patrons all speak with a New York accent, greeting each other by name upon entry. The familiarity was such that they easily tossed out who they voted for and why:
“Who’d you vote for Bob?”
“McCain, but you already knew that. I just wanted to make sure this country was still here 4 years from now.”
“Funny, that’s why I voted for Obama!” General laughter.
It was democracy at its most comfortable and I could have happily stayed for the interplay of viewpoints, but I had the whole length of Manhattan to travel and wanted to be back in Harlem for the final announcement. I drained my glass and left.

The southernmost bar was a tossup between two Taverns: the White Horse and Fraunce’s. I’d previously enjoyed the rustic lack of pretension found in the White Horse Tavern, so cracked the door of Fraunce’s, the historical landmark where Washington bade his troops farewell. It was filled with revolutionary paraphernalia: muskets mounted above the bar, a war mural covered most of the back wall. As befitted the revolutionary theme this was Obama country, with the small throng letting out a cheer as each state reported. The Guinness they had on tap compared unfavorably with the bottled G. I’d selected at Liffy’s. Guess it’s in the nitrogen pellet. I was watching and cheering quite happily until the network flashed a shot of the crowd gathering in Harlem, and my heart jumped. The compulsion to return home was irrefutable. I downed my drink and dashed for the train.

The crowd gathered on 125th street by the state building, where a huge screen was erected to show the broadcast. The police had formed a cordon to keep the crowd from spilling onto the street, and had their hands full. I arrived just minutes before CNN called the election for Obama - and the crowd went wild. People jumping and shouting, hugging strangers. Tears, tears in every face. I don’t think I’ve ever been immersed in such exultation, and can’t imagine being anywhere else.

Every car in the neighborhood was honking as I made my way to the place I consider home: Showman’s Bar, where I first heard Harlem Jazz, and felt drawn into the warmth of the old guard Harlem community. All the familiar faces were there, and it was standing room only, but I didn’t mind as it gave me a chance to hang out a little with Jerry Weldon, the genius saxophonist who blew my mind on my first visit to Showman’s two years earlier. Then McCain came on to heartfelt applause from the patrons: here was a man who landed a few jabs but mainly chose to pull his punches, refusing to mention Jeremiah Wright, and never using the race card. There was some head shaking when he alluded to Obama’s achievement as an African American right at the beginning, but it was shrugged off as a historical necessity. Sarah Palin’s mention met with boos. The end of his speech was greeted with applause and cheers.

There was a commotion in the street and everyone rushed outside. When Obama’s election was announced the students gathered at Columbia University realized en masse that Harlem was where they wanted to be. They poured out onto Amsterdam Avenue, turned and swarmed along 125th street, shouting with glee. The police were caught off guard by this rear maneuver, and never had a chance. As we watched the exultant students stream past, one lone bus was fighting its slow way upstream through the bus and noise.

As the stream of youth tapered off, Mona, the manager, popped outside to usher us back in for Obama’s acceptance speech. A hush fell over the patrons, first broken by applause at the mention of David Axelrod, second only to Michelle Obama. I realized I was surrounded by political intelligentsia; local operatives who recognized one of their own. The final applause and cheers went on for minutes.

Jerry Weldon revved up his band, and swept us in the magic of Harlem Jazz. At Showman’s the older patrons are almost entirely black, the young white. Youth and gentility are drawn together in this atmosphere, and the couples dance. It’s one of the reasons I cherish this bar. Every few minutes Terry, the young beloved moppet behind the bar, couldn’t bottle it up any longer. She’d lean over and shout “Who’s our President?!” and wiggle and punch her fists as everyone shouted back “Obama!”

As I walked home that night as the car horns continued to honk, I think even if I was a republican I wouldn’t have been able to wipe the grin off my face. It was just part of the night.

[huddlec]

Loved your write up, Brian. When am I going to see your name on the binding of a book (and not about weather)?

Sure would love to hear that saxophonist in person.

Christy

[brianvh]

You all know you've got a standing invitation to visit. Sofa bed's cheaper than a hotel.

Weekdays are better to avoid the crowds but you'll have to explore during the day without me. Everyone also wants to come visit in the winter so they don't miss a flying day. I won't stop you, but you're missing out because the city gets awfully dreary when the vegetation is as gray as the concrete. Got a couple more weeks with leaves, then in mid april the leaves (and flowers!) come back.