Hey I know you, you know me, come on in! Much of history took place in bars, taverns or anywhere men could drink and talk. And who was there to witness? The bartender. We witness it all, sometimes as bystanders or sometimes as more. We don’t get much credit in history, but we were there for it all and took the stories home to tell. And in that way, their discussions inspired the story I’m telling now.

The American Revolution was particularly observed by bartenders, as after the meetings of the Founding Fathers, they all repaired to taverns. The bartender’s job as always was to listen, listen, and listen. Sometimes a little advice, and of course, pour a good drink. A barroom is a haunted place and when you stand in line at the bar, you take your place in a chain of conversations.

I have a diary left from my grandfather, who was also a bar keep. It has many stories, some tragic. But here’s a story I don’t need the diary for, because I lived it myself. 30 years ago I witnessed it then as a young porter. We are in New York now, and happy to be here, but this bar began on a great little island thirty miles off the coast of Cape Cod; Nantucket. Which the author Herman Millville wrote, “look what a particular place it occupies”. Still a bit of a sleepy island then, famous for the historic whaling industry, and a haven for quakers to practice their religion. Our founder made his way as a very young man, Jack, to the shores of Nantucket and coming from a food rich family culture decided to open a restaurant - with no idea of how difficult it would be. The story begins as Jack departs the ferry on a foggy Nantucket evening to petition The Selectman for a license to open a restaurant. And I’ll also show you what became of it all.