Patrons enjoy drinks at the Manhattan Bistro.
In our conversation, Thomas confirmed reports of wine bottles flying off shelves and of ashtrays levitating and smashing against walls back when smoking was permitted. I asked Thomas if perhaps the bottles fell off the shelf from the vibration of a subway train, but he said the subway is not close enough to cause such a vibration. He also told me about the exploding glasses. “I was talking on the phone, by the bar, and had my hand resting on the shelf. Suddenly, a champagne glass flew through the air and exploded. A big piece of glass cut me between my pinky and ring finger. I had to go to the emergency room to get stitches.”
Thomas doesn’t blame Elma’s ghost for his injury; he senses her presence as a gentle spirit. Hiowever, he also senses the spirit of a man who hanged himself on the third floor of the building in the 1920s; that ghost, he says, is angry and malevolent.
According to Thomas, there are certain areas of the restaurant where paranormal phenomena happen more frequently. For instance, often when he is walking down the stairs to his basement office, not only will he feel a tugging at his shirt, he can see the fabric being pulled by an unseen hand. Bottles fly off the bar shelves. By the maitre’d stand, Thomas has had the sensation many times that his left arm is ice-cold and wet. The first time it happened, he thought a cold liquid was dripping down the length of his arm. When he touched the arm with his right hand and realized it was dry, he feared he had some kind of nerve damage. A couple of days later, he noticed one of the waiters at the maitre’d stand patting his left arm with his right hand. Thomas had never said a word to anyone about the sensation he had experienced at that spot, yet when he asked the waiter what he was doing, the waiter said he couldn’t understand why his left arm had this ice-cold, wet feeling that dragged down from his shoulder to his wrist. The sensation has happened to Thomas several more times and as recently as three weeks prior to my interviewing him. He hasn’t noticed a rhythm or pattern to the paranormal activity at the Manhattan Bistro. “It happens sporadically,” he said.
Electrical issues abound at the restaurant even though the wiring is up to code and the establishment always passes routine fire inspections. “Two weeks ago,” Thomas said, “I touched the extension cord that’s plugged into the stereo, and a spark flew from it and I got a shock that went through my entire body. Everyone at the bar saw this happen. It’s very strange because the extension cord is one of those heavy-duty types with a surge protector. I’ve also gotten shocked just turning off a light switch,” Thomas explained. He’s been shocked a total of six times, always in the area of the maitre’d stand or near the credenza by the stairs.
Thomas has sustained one other injury while at the Bistro. While working in the kitchen, he looked down to see his fingers being forced around the handle of a knife. He watched in horror as he involuntarily sliced halfway through the thumb of his other hand. Again, he required stitches, and he was unable to play the piano for almost a year.
With all the paranormal activity at the Manhattan Bistro, I was not surprised when Thomas told me it’s the third most haunted building in New York City. I didn’t get a chance to ask him what the first two are before he went into another ghost story. This one happened a few years ago to the owner’s daughter, who used to work at the bistro. When she would leave at night, all the lights would shut off simultaneously. It’s physically impossible for one person to do this; the switches are on several different walls, and a couple of them are dimmer switches that slide to the “off” position. Yet whenever the young woman put her hand on one switch to shut it off, all the lights in the bistro would go out before she had a chance to flip even the one switch.
Several times, late at night when no one is in the building, the water tap in the sink at the waiters’ station has turned on and run full force, partially flooding the restaurant. Thomas said they have replaced the sink and faucet three times, and it still happens. He’s also replaced the doorknob on the right-hand ladies’ bathroom stall several times. Patrons have complained that “a force” holds the doorknob of that stall so tightly the customer cannot turn it. The lady gets so frustrated and frightened that she ends up damaging the doorknob or the hinges on the door. In this same stall, the toilet lid sometimes lowers itself silently. Women have taken time to line the seat with toilet tissue, and when they go to sit down, the lid is down.
Even though smoking is not allowed in New York City restaurants, Thomas says that quite frequently he’ll smell cigarette smoke downstairs by his office. The first time it happened, he went upstairs to chastise the lawbreaker, but no one was smoking there. Thomas attributes the smoke smell to the man who hanged himself upstairs in the 1920s, whom Thomas describes as “a tortured artist.”
Thomas recalled that, his first day on the job, he was downstairs in the then-manager’s office, seated on a chair by the well. The manager told Thomas that she believed the restaurant was haunted, and he said he didn’t believe in any of “that stuff.” With that, his chair lifted from behind and pushed him forward about four feet. He hasn’t doubted the ghosts since.
On many occasions when Thomas has been alone in his basement office, he’s heard the sound of footsteps walking up the stairs. The footsteps continue across the restaurant (due to the terrazzo tile floor, footsteps in the restaurant are easily heard in the basement). Halfway across the room, the footsteps stop. Where Thomas hears them stop is right above the well.
Thomas concluded our interview by saying that so many little things happen daily that he can’t keep track of them; he only takes notice of the significant ones. If you dine here, you might order the duck à l’orange—and you may have to actually duck to avoid being pelted by an errant champagne glass or wine bottle. Bon appétit!
CHAPTER 5
McSorley’s Old Ale House
JOHN MCSORLEY ARRIVED in New York City from Liverpool in 1851 on the ship Colonist. In 1854 he opened a saloon at 15 East Seventh Street, naming it The Old House at Home. It was a place for Irish immigrant workingmen to come and feel at home as they enjoyed a beer with some cheese and crackers. By 1908 a storm had ripped the original sign down, and it was replaced with a new sign bearing a new name: McSorley’s Old Time Ale House. Later on, the word Time was removed from the name, and to this day the establishment is called McSorley’s Old Ale House.
In 1910, at the age of 83, John McSorley died in his apartment above the bar. His son Bill took over the business. By 1936, two years before his death, Bill sold the bar to its first non-McSorley owner, Daniel O’Connell. Only a year later, in 1939, O’Connell died, leaving the bar to his daughter, Dorothy O’Connell Kirwan. Dorothy promised her father she would not allow women in the bar, and she kept that promise. She appointed her husband, Harry Kirwan, as the manager. Dorothy entered the bar only on Sundays, after closing time. Eventually, ownership was passed along to the Kirwans’ son, Danny.
The next owner of McSorley’s was Matthew Maher. He and Harry Kirwin had met by chance when Harry was visiting Ireland in 1964. Harry’s car broke down, and along came Matthew Maher to save the day. In return, Harry promised Maher a job if he ever came to New York City. Later that year, Matthew Maher began his employment at McSorley’s as a waiter and bartender. Maher was promoted to night manager of the bar, and in 1977 he purchased the bar from Danny Kirwan.
McSorley’s