Joe Harbor's Spotlite Bar & Grill, at 52nd & Broadway, was a second home
for NYC horn players. There were a few visitors from the nearby Broadway and
Alvin theaters, but the clientele consisted mainly of musicians & showbiz
types. Now long vanished, The Spotlite lives on in cyberspace.
When a horn player arrived in New York, back in the 1960's, one of the first
pieces of advice he was likely to receive was "hang out at Joe Harbor's and
you might get some work." The theory was that the working players would get
to know you and begin using you as a sub. This was sometimes true,
but there were some imponderables, and more than one promising career was
derailed by excessive drinking and spending in the quest for work.
Joe Harbor, born in the East End of London, always had an eye for the
bottom line and encouraged his patrons to drink up. If he saw you edging
for your coat or actually starting out the door, suddenly he would proffer
a drink on the house (an otherwise rare event). When confronted with "Joe, are you trying to get me
drunk?", he would reply "Yes!"
Joe himself had a few rough edges, so you might ask why anyone
patronized the place. Well, the roughness was part of the total mystique.
It was even customary to buy the owner a drink from time to time.
The other reason was that the food was more than tolerable. There
was a chef named Helmut (you were also allowed to buy him a drink), with
a particular talent for something he called Gypsy Goulasch. It was made
with both beef and pork and Hungarian Paprika. Other favorites were the
Corned Beef Hash, Prime Rib of Beef, Beef Stew, various Omelettes, and
luncheon and dinner dishes that changed daily. The sandwiches were
outstanding, and you could count on fresh shrimp being available each day.
You could dine well here, and at short notice, a good enough reason to
patronize the place.
The Spotlite was the home for more than a few colorless
characters, but there were also a few that definitely WERE characters.
Merv (Mervyn) played the trombone. He played it very well. He played
it so well that he was in demand on Broadway and for recording dates. A day's
work would bring him into the Spotlite several times, perhaps to get something
to eat, perhaps to relax over a drink, or more likely just to harass Joe Harbor,
whom he referred to as "Toulouse".
As far as the general public was concerned, Merv could have passed for an
insurance salesman. However, he had ways of calling attention to himself as a busy
freelancer.
He would be standing quietly at the bar, with his trombone case nearby. During
a lull in the proceedings, there would be a loud ring of a telephone.
(Remember this was in the days before cellular phones or beepers or pagers).
The sound seemed to emanate from Merv's trombone case. Casually he would open
the case, remove a telephone receiver with an attached cord (a complete fake, of
course), and say something like "Hello - oh, hi Morris! Next Friday and
Saturday? Gee, I can do Friday, but Saturday I have another recording. Is it
ok if I send in a sub? Yes - fine. I'm writing it down, and thanks, Morris."
"Morris" was well known to the musicians in the Spotlite, so the routine was
funny to us, and of course the casual visitor didn't know what to think.
After writing down a few notes in his diary, Merv would then hang up the phone
and pick up his drink.
His greatest ploy concerned a new musical called "Baker Street",
which was in out of town tryouts and was destined for the Broadway Theater, next door to
the Spotlite. It did not take Joe Harbor long to figure out that
he ought to try to tap into the theme of this show and perk up his
intermission business.
Before long, a large Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson logo appeared above the bar, with
accompanying signs in the window. If I remember correctly, Watney Ale was being brought
in from Great Britain and offered to the Spotlite clientele (for a price).
Joe Harbor was counting on Merv to keep him supplied with inside info on how the show
was doing. (Merv was in the orchestra). This was Merv's finest moment in his long career
of trying to bug Joe Harbor. He kept Joe well supplied with info on the tryouts so Joe could
assess the chance of a long run (with many dollars for Joe). Joe ate it all up.
Finally the night of the Broadway opening arrived. Joe had made sure that Merv would supply
him with a report immediately after the first act. When the appointed time came, sure enough, Merv
breezed in (but with a long face) and plunked himself down at the bar,
saying "Hit me, Toulouse." Joe was prepared for this and started pouring
several drinks on the house in exchange for the hot scoop. Merv threw one
down, and then said "Hit me again, Toulouse."
Joe was getting antsy, but kept obliging. Finally he could stand it no more and said, "Well, how about
it Merv - how is Baker Street doing?" Merv looked up with a serious face, and replied "Joe - this - is -
the - worst - turkey - I've - ever - played - in - my - life!"
Joe's expression was priceless. I guess some of us felt a
bit sorry for him, but it had been set up beautifully. Eventually, Joe
discovered the true state of things (the show was well enough received and
ran for many months). He actually did enjoy a spurt of business from the
intermission crowd for a long time. Merv (RIP) and Joe (RIP) returned to their usual bickering.
As the years go on, there will be fewer musicians that remember "Joe Harbor's"
(it was seldom called "The Spotlite"). Eventually it will be completely forgotten.
Even so, things won't be quite the same at Broadway and 52nd.
RR (Revised 4/21/99)
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