For years I’ve fretted over the wellbeing of these two lost souls that were seemingly abandoned on the side of Route 341 just south of Silver City, Nevada. Who could they be, and for God’s sake where were their parents? Well part of that mystery was solved during a recent trip to the Finger Lakes region of New York State.

There hiding out in a secluded corner of Finger Lake Distilling above the shoreline of Lake Seneca was dear old dad. The irresponsible lout was all polished up and full of rye whiskey. I really couldn’t blame him though, because the rye was the McKenzie. This newly released gem of a whiskey from the distillery is among the best ryes ever made in North America.

So after several sips and bit of a scolding, I reminded pop about his kids rusting in the hot Nevada desert. He promised to take responsibility, but that would be predicated on whiskey sales. So please pay a visit to Finger Lakes Distilling and indulge yourself with a bottle of the McKenzie.

Do it for yourself…do it for the children!

Look for an upcoming article about the distillery and other sources of good libations in the Finger Lakes in the December issue of American Public House Review.

   Posted by: Chris Poh

By the spring of 1787, less than four years after the signing of “The Treaty of Paris” which formally ended British hostilities in America, the new nation was already facing an internal crisis of such proportions that the demise of democracy in the New World seemed imminent. In response those that had crafted the Declaration of Independence and the Articles of Confederation agreed to hold a convention at the Philadelphia State House. Their goal was to strengthen the articles of governance so that the intense differences between the states might be resolved.

Through most of that summer the delegates argued, cajoled and deliberated over several state and individual initiatives designed to stabilize the American government. The harvest of their cultivation and compromise would be our Constitution. Benjamin Franklin made this astute observation about the document.

“There are several parts of this Constitution which I do not at present approve, but I am not sure I shall never approve them. … I doubt too whether any other Convention we can obtain, may be able to make a better Constitution. … It therefore astonishes me, Sir, to find this system approaching so near to perfection as it does; and I think it will astonish our enemies…”

 The ultimate success of that convention may be attributed to the hand that guided those proceedings. For three months George Washington presided over what was at many times an extremely contentious affair. And when an accord was finally achieved and it was time to ink the deal, once more it was the words of Benjamin Franklin that defined the moment. As he stood waiting to attach his signature to the final draft, he made this comment about the half sun carved onto the backrest of the mahogany armchair that Washington had occupied while overseeing the Convention.

“I have often looked at that picture behind the president without being able to tell whether it was a rising or setting sun. Now at length I have the happiness to know that it is indeed a rising, not a setting sun.”

As American Public House Review begins its third year of publication we thought it would be fitting to spend an extended amount of time in the city where our forefathers conceived and constructed our democracy. During our two-year sojourn to America’s historic taverns we have been witness to many of the same attitudes and conditions that threatened the wellbeing of this nation in 1787. But like those men that came to Philadelphia during that long sweltering summer over two hundred years ago, we believe that when good-natured rational people gather to address their concerns and disputes – democracy shall prevail.

Following the signing of the Constitution on September 17^th, many of the delegates repaired to the City Tavern for a hearty meal and ample celebratory refreshments. According to George Washington, they “dined together and took cordial leave of each other.”

in that same spirit our staff will spend some quality time in some great chairs throughout this fine city. Because like Doctor Franklin we are of the same opinion that America is not in her decline – but we are in fact a “Nation Rising.” Just don’t ask us to rise before last call.  

Check out these featured locations in the current issue of American Public House Review:                            

• The Man Full of Trouble Tavern
• The Bishop’s Collar
• Jack’s Firehouse
• Eastern State Penitentiary

Posted by: Chris Poh

Previously Published in 2008   On the June 11th episode of “Ghost Hunters” the team from The Atlantic Paranormal Society (TAPS) will be visiting the Garden State. One of their stops will be The Red Mill in Clinton, New Jersey. This historic Hunterdon County landmark has been rumored to be haunted for generations. It is hard to imagine a paranormal presence at this perfect pastoral setting. But just down the road a few short miles is a truly frightening location.   

Welcome to Frenchtown, New Jersey and the site of the now shuttered National Hotel. Like the Red Mill, this property has also played a significant role in the history of this area. During the 1930s poet, novelist and script writer James Agee lived on the street behind the National. Apparently he found the environs of the hotel well suited to his lifestyle and his talent. Much of his work during that period was accomplished while sitting at the bar .

During the late 1800s, Annie Oakley would visit  Frenchtown with fellow performers from Bill Cody’s Wild West Show. While in town the National was always their preferred watering hole. In recent years the bar was the de facto office of the publisher of American Public House Review. And while I can not prove the existence of the reported spirits that supposedly roam the halls of this hostelry, I can confirm that the  remains of a former long-term guest have not been checked out.

But the real horror story here is that a property of this magnitude had been abandoned and allowed to fall into a state of decay. As always, it is not the activity of the dead but the actions of the living that we need to fear.

Update: The National Hotel is rising from the ruins and will reopen the week of November 1st, 2009

Posted by: Chris Poh, Publisher

On most days I receive at least one email that according to the sender must be shared with as many people as possible in order to ensure  the wellbeing of some aspect of the human condition. It seems the fate of  too many issues or too many people hinges on whether or not I respond to the friendly persuasion and electronic coercion of the digital age. Perhaps it does all come down to me, because ever since I’ve applied an  extremely liberal use of the “delete key,” the world really does seem to be going through a rough patch.

So in order to atone for my sin of “being part of the problem, because I’m never  part of the solution,” I am going to share with as many people as possible one of the few stories that I’ve received via email that is truly worth sharing.

Below is the email and images that I received from my friend, Warren Spindler regarding the recent loss of one his  good friends:

Hi –

I made up a poster to tell people who knew Sam that he passed away months ago and posted it on the back of a sign on the bike path we used to walk. Last Sunday, I noticed the sign was removed and muttered about it for a few minutes walking home. Today, as I turned onto the path I noticed a new sign. At first I thought it was a  parity of the original. Not at all! What a wonderful surprise it was and the following kilometers flew by the rest of my run. This made my day and I want to share it.

Original Poster

To get a better sense of who Sam’s best friend was click here. 

Posted by: Chris Poh

Bethlehem, Pennsylvania is a city known throughout the country for what it used to be.  Once home to the beating heart of American industrialization, the giant Bethlehem Steel plant went quiet leaving the city in dire financial circumstances.  In fact, Billy Joel’s famous song “Allentown” was supposedly written about Bethlehem, but the name just didn’t fit the tune as well, I guess.

Bethlehem's Celtic Classic

But the impression that some people have of Bethlehem as a big industrial ghost town is simply not the case.  Sure, it may not be one of country’s most important manufacturing areas anymore, but it is a terrific place full of cultural delights and rich in history.  Music is at the core of Bethlehem’s appeal, and once a year the Celts takeover for a festival that brings people from all over the Mid-Atlantic to rediscover this still great city.

Gaelic Storm raise the roof at the Celtic Classic

Bethlehem’s Celtic Classic, known by locals as Celticfest, is a tradition well into its third decade of existence.  It brings together Celtic food, history, culture, and especially music, to create a weekend party that simply must be experienced.  If you are like me, and you are a lover of Celtic music, this free event showcases some of the absolute best nationally renowned acts in the genre. 

This year’s schedule was one of the most exciting in recent memory.  As usual there were dozens of great acts.  The headliners were Gaelic Storm, the band first made famous by their appearance in the film “Titanic”, but they have since gone on to produce some of the most enjoyable and fun releases in the Celtic music genre.  Also in attendance were the Canadian band The Town Pants, a personal favorite of mine, as well as two artists featured on the APHR Jukebox; Charlie Zahm and Gerry Timlin.  Besides a great Irish balladeer, Mr. Timlin also owns a terrific pub called the Shanacie which the American Public House Review featured earlier this year.

the Keogh brothers of the Town Pants

Like it is every year, the 2009 installment of Bethlehem’s Celtic Classic was terrific fun.  There were great vendors selling Celtic gifts and music, wonderful food and drink, and entertainment aplenty.  My thanks go out to all who make this amazing and free event happen every year.

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Posted by: David McBride

A gentle rain fell on the streets of New London, as Fran and I sipped our pints of Cottrell Old Yankee Ale at the bar of the Bank Street Road House. During breaks in our converstion I would cast my gaze beyond the back deck and across  the channel of the Thames River in hopes of spying a Virginia or Ohio class submarine making its way upstream to the Electric Boat facility at Groton. On this particular  August afternoon the behemoths of “The Silent Service” would not rise from the depths. Though south of my position something was stirring up Atlantic waters.

An interesting photograph found its way onto the internet of a surfer in the waters off  Strathmere, New Jersey. In the background appeared to be what was  possibly a  Russian nuclear submarine. Staff writer, John West, who was on assignment at McMenemy’s Pub in Portsmouth, New Hampshire was summoned back to New Jersey to take  command of naval operations from aboard the “Escape Goat,” -  the flag ship of  American Public House Review’s Atlantic fleet. By chance the boat was docked across from Maynard’s Cafe in Margate, NJ –  in close proximity to the supposed Russian intruder. 

Commander West began his investigation at Maynard’s,  knowing full well that this legendary local hub of hard partying and well respected repository of useless information was the kind of joint foreign agents might target in order to glean military secrets. When he was satisfied that nothing sensitive was compromised, other than the inside line on next week’s Notre Dame game, he moved the “Escape Goat” to the docks adjacent to Twisties Tavern in Strathmere. Once more his inquiries did not turn up anything unusual, other than a report of a group of pale skinned tourists asking how many rubles were needed to purchase a Twisties tee shirt and a bottle of vodka. Commander West concluded that what was being mistaken as a Russian intruder was nothing more than a deep sea dredging operation.    

 After filing his report with the Coast Guard,  John returned to Portsmouth to complete his story about  McMenemy’s Pub. According to his findings, this fine old Irish tavern may be haunted by a number of  the ladies that provided companionship and comfort to the sailors who served on the more than seventy submarines that were built at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard during the Second World War. One of which, “The Galloping Ghost of the Japanese Coast” the USS Torsk now keeps a watchful periscope on our favorite pubs in Baltimore: The Wharf Rat, Slainte Irish Pub and the Cat’s Eye.

For those of you that are still not convinced that our shores are safe from an incursion by the Soviet Navy, our own intelligence gathering unit, operating out of the Trinity Brewhouse in Providence, Rhode Island, has confirmed that the only Russian sub operating in U.S. waters this summer was the Juliette class K-77. She was commissioned on October 31st, 1965 and assigned to the Soviet Northern Fleet. The submarine remained on active duty until 1988, and was decommissioned in the early 1990s. In 1994 the boat was sold to a Finnish businessman, and it was operated as a rather unique restaurant and watering hole, (this writer’s idea of a great “Dive Bar.”)

In 2000 the K-77 was moved to Halifax, Nova Scotia where it was used in the film K-19: The Widow Maker, the fact based film starring Harrison Ford and Liam Neeson. In 2002 the boat began its final assignment as a museum ship operating with the USS Saratoga Museum Foundation in Providence, Rhode Island. In 2007 the K-77 sunk after a combination of high tides, heavy winds and a storm surge flooded the submarine . The boat was raised in 2008, but the extensive damage made restoration and repair economically unfeasible. Sadly, the Juliett Class K-77 made her final voyage on August 11th, 2009 down the Providence River to a site owned by RI Recycled Metals to be dismanteled for scrap.

The staff and writers of American Public House Review salute all those intrepid souls that have served in “The Silent Service” and we raise a glass to those that are still on patrol!

Thanks to stevehdc for his photo of the Torsk.

Posted by: Chris Poh

For the second time now I’ve watched an American flag fly at half-mast over the waters of Newport, Rhode Island marking the passing of yet  another member of the Kennedy family. On a July afternoon ten years earlier, my wife and I looked on from the deck of the Rum Runner as Hugh D. Auchincloss III, the stepbrother of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, lowered the flag at his property at Hammersmith Farm. It had been confirmed earlier that day that all souls on board the Piper Saratoga piloted by John Kennedy Jr. had gone down in the Atlantic off the coast of Martha’s Vineyard. Now on this perfect August morning as I stood near the lowered colors at Newport’s Easton’s Beach, my thoughts turned to the life and legacy of the last lion of the U.S. Senate.

Even in this New England community that continues to celebrate its strong ties to the Camelot era of the political dynasty, the Kennedy name evokes strong emotions.  From bootleggers to the beatified, the family is either vilified or venerated. And Ted, as much as any one of his bloodline, fulfilled our need to imbue our public figures with those qualities that allow us to imagine them as devils or angels - depending upon one’s particular political persuasion.

By my take, based upon the hours of conversations and comments overheard at the bar at Flo’s Clam Shack in Middletown, RI on the day after his death, Senator Edward Moore Kennedy will be remembered as the greatest legislator and statesman of the last fifty years, or just another fortunate son of privledge that was not held accountable for his sins of the past. The immutable forces that apply to human nature dictate that the truth, as always, is somewhere close to the middle of our perception and observations.

It is interesting to note though, that his  longevity in the senate may have come about as a result of his greatest failing. The tradgedy at Chappaquiddick rendered him impotent as his brother’s  heir apparent to the White House; but the citizens of Massachusetts entrusted him with a reign that would allow him to develop his legislative prowess.

Even as I write this piece I find myself at great odds about my own  feelings toward the late senator. Anytime one truly makes an effort to consider and delve into the lives of those that we’ve elevated beyond the status of  being human, we leave ourselves open to the probability of internal conflict  and disappointment. With the possible exception of  “His Excellency” George Washington, all those that were worth their salt as leaders seemed to have been equally proportioned with the potential to be a saint or a scoundrel on any given day.

So it is probably best that we continue to honor, commerorate and give thanks to those that have dedicated their lives to serving this nation, and allow providence to sort out those flaws that are inherent  in all of us.

Give praise to the regal lion – just remember that he is still  a lion!

Thanks to Susan Sipprelle for her photo of Hammersmith Farm.

Posted by: Chris Poh

Based upon the tone at recent town hall meetings, it appears that some rather spirited Americans are experiencing the summer of their discontent. This may one of those rare times when our elected officials wished that they would have chosen to forego recess in favor of the tedium of late night legislative sessions in Washington.

 I know that I speak for the entire staff of American Public House Review when I say that we fully support the right of all of our citizens to assemble in order to express their concerns and opinions; but that we strongly disagree with the apparent lack of decorum and the disruptive tactics that are being implemented by certain individuals and groups under the protection of free speech. Hooliganism may be acceptable at a tea party in Boston or an English soccer match, but it degrades and dishonors American democracy. When we award undue credence to the clamor and clatter we greatly diminish the ability of those voices of reason, on either side of an issue, to be rightfully heard.

 During the protests of 60s and 70s it was common to hear the phrase “America, love it or leave it” being uttered by anyone that felt that those on the street were ill-mannered or in abuse of their First Amendment rights. I’m not about to advocate for the banishment of any American to Canada, especially since their public health care system probably doesn’t cover treatment for malice and malcontentedness.

No, what I’m suggesting is that we adopt the house policy at McSorley’s Old Ale House in Manhattan. Enshrined behind the bar in that beloved New York institution are the words “Be good or be gone.” Those words serve as a kindly reminder to all that enter that they have the right to gather, kick up their heels a bit, and to express their opinion on any matter, as long as they are well behaved and respectful of the rights of those on either side of the bar.

 We at American Public House Review raise our glasses to all those who honor and exercise our democratic freedoms with dignity and goodwill toward their fellow citizens.

Posted by: Chris Poh

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have vacationed on the Maine coast.  My father’s family is from Maine, and I can’t remember a summer that wasn’t marked by our trip north.  To me then, Maine seemed like the far side of the world, an interminable drive through what felt like thousands of miles to end up in our own wonderland.  (And we were only coming from New Jersey!)  It was like another country and like a trip back in time to place where the sea provided the bounty and always called the shots, a far cry from my sleepy suburban abode.

The beauty of mid-coast Maine, an area that encompasses great places like Boothbay Harbor and Rockland, is found in its rocky coast.  As a child, it was what made the coastline so different from the sandy beaches of the Jersey shore, and to me that much more appealing.  But for the people who really did sail here from the far side of the world, and not up route 95 in a station wagon, those same rocks presented a life threatening danger.  It was to guard against that threat that motivated our forefathers to build the incredibly beautiful lighthouses that Maine is now so famous for.

On my way home this year, I decided to stop at Portland Head Light.  The light sits on a gorgeous point of land in the town of Cape Elizabeth along Casco Bay.  It is one of the oldest, and perhaps most breathtaking, lighthouses in North America.  It was commissioned by George Washington himself to help guide ships safely into Portland’s busy harbor.  But just the light is sometimes not enough to ensure a vessel’s safety during Maine’s harsh winters.

Walk along the outside of Portland Head Light and you will find a haunting, and obviously makeshift, memorial to a ship that didn’t have  as merry a Christmas as perhaps her crew had hoped.  It is painted on the rocks facing the light and all it reads is “Annie C. Maguire Shipwrecked Here Christmas Eve 1886”.  It is all you and any other visitor will ever need to understand the importance of lighthouses to Maine’s commerce and shipping industry.  But this story is not a typical tail of souls lost at sea. Unlike most makeshift memorials, this one does not honor those who died.  In its own way, it honors the heroism of those who helped the crew of the Annie Maguire live…every last one of them.

As the story goes, the Annie Maguire was heading up the coast towards Canada in a blinding snowstorm.  She was hoping to put into Portland’s sheltered harbor to get out of the danger, probably share a holiday toast.  It was likely her captain and helmsman were completely blind from the snow and unable to hear any audible signals from the shore through the pounding surf, and instead she crashed into the huge rocks just yards from the lighthouse.

The keepers of the light at the time were Captain Joseph Strout and his wife Mary.  Amid the roar of waves pounding on the rocks, the Strouts heard the shouts of the Maguire’s men and knew they needed to help.  Now take a look at that picture above of Portland Head Light and the rocks its sits upon.  And then, imagine waves pounding, wind howling and snow blinding the Strouts from saving those men.  Jeremy D’Entremont is his book The Lighthouses of Maine described what happened next.

The Strouts took quick action, grabbing a ladder from storage and climbing down onto the rocks.  They laid the ladder across the rocks to the ship so that it became a makeshift gangway.  Mary Strout shed light on the scene by burning blankets that had been cut into strips and soaked in kerosene.  In addition to the captain and the 15 crewmen, the passengers included the captain’s wife and 12-year-old son.  All aboard made it safely across the ladder to the solid ground.

Later, Capt. Strout decided to immortalize the event by painting this little memorial on the rocks pictured above, not a small or entirely safe project either.  Maybe by making sure everyone who came to Portland Head Light was made aware of the terrifying Christmas Eve in 1886, the good Captain was doing a little bragging.  Well, it certainly is well deserved.

by Dave McBride

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So, what do you do when you are on vacation and the weather just stinks?  Where do you go when you planned on spending the week relaxing on a boat, but instead the weather requires a Gorton’s Fisherman outfit in order to do so?  Well, you find a place inside where you can relax and have fun all the same.  During my recent Maine vacation, King Eider’s Pub in Damariscotta did the trick.

This is a perfectly inviting place.  It captures a nautical feel befitting of the town, while also harkening back to colonial times.  Both the exterior and interior of King Eider’s has almost a historic atmosphere.  If you didn’t know any better, you would imagine this place being a stop for sailors in the 18th century.

They also have one of the best logos you will find on any tavern…

So check out the new article on the American Public House Review and feel free to share you thoughts below.  Cheers!

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