Recently I attended an early-cut screening of a documentary on Farrell’s Bar in Brooklyn. The film is about much more than just a bar.
Though the world is always turning, these days it seems as if it’s turning more rapidly than ever. Traditions, values and principles are changing dramatically, and some are gone forever. None of us, of course, should want to live in the past or resist progress, which can bring so much good and improve our lives. But in the rush toward progress, we can’t afford to abandon institutions that encourage friendship and lasting bonds, especially in these fast-paced times.
Farrell’s is a legendary institution that has survived the rush of time. Now in its 93rd year — it opened just after the end of Prohibition — it remains a central neighborhood place for the Windsor Terrace community. It’s an oasis of calm in a desert of turmoil.
Farrell’s has never betrayed its blue-collar culture, embodied in its support for cops, firefighters and veterans. (Though newer, the Good Life, in Massapequa Park, and the Embassy Diner, in Bethpage, are cut from that mold.) Farrell’s isn’t far from Brooklyn Prep, where I went to high school, and a short distance from where my father grew up and my grandparents lived until the late 1970s.
Though I’d heard about Farrell’s and read about it in Pete Hamill’s stories, I stopped in for the first time during my very unsuccessful campaign for New York state attorney general in 1986. One of my closest friends and biggest supporters was Jimmy Boyle, who had been president of the FDNY’s Firefighters Union and a fixture in union politics for years. Boyle thought Farrell’s would be an ideal location for a campaign stop.
Sure enough, when I arrived just before noon that September day, Boyle had packed the place with loud, supportive firefighters, and a few cops had found their way in. It was as enthusiastic and as friendly a reception as I’ve ever gotten in politics. After Boyle gave me a phenomenal introduction, only a small part of it true, I climbed up on a chair in the middle of the room and began my speech by admitting that “even though my father was a cop, I have to say, you guys aren’t half bad yourselves.”
After much friendly booing and catcalls, I thanked those guys for their support and assured them that I’d always be there for them. (A sad footnote: Boyle’s son, Michael, was one of the 343 firefighters killed on Sept. 11, 2001.) Though I went on to lose the election by 1.2 million votes, I had been a winner in Farrell’s, and for the next few years I’d stop by periodically to relive the one bright moment of the campaign.
Later, when I was in Congress, I would join Brooklyn friends from high school and make pilgrimages to Farrell’s. Though they couldn’t drink on the job, two detectives on my security detail, Jimmy Skopek and Melissa Zimmerman, took a particular liking to Farrell’s, especially its old-neighborhood flair.
Then, about 10 years ago, a friend of mine from Massapequa, Pat Fenton, wrote a well-received Off-Broadway play centered on Farrell’s. That inspired independent filmmakers Jay Cusato and Rob Martin to produce a documentary on the bar, as a living metaphor for neighborhoods and good people who refuse to allow their values and lasting memories to be plowed over.
On March 8, 2020, Cusato and Martin interviewed me at my home, one of many people they talked to. At the time, their project was close to completion — or so they thought. The coronavirus hit New York before the week was out, and the documentary was put on ice. I actually thought they’d abandoned it until just last month, when Cusato contacted me to let me know that, in the spirit of Farrell’s, they had stayed on the project, titled “Why Farrell’s?” and invited me to a private screening at the St. Francis College campus on Livingston Street in downtown Brooklyn.
It was a great experience. Though several interviews remain to be done, and sound and lighting issues need to be worked out, “Why Farrell’s?” is outstanding, so accurately depicting the values that the bar is doing so much to preserve. My role was minor, but I’m proud to be part of what is truly a meaningful work of art.
