By the rear end of Port Authority lies a narrow, dimly lit alley with a roof. There, between naked brick and a wall plastered with time-yellowed tabloid clips, loners ruminate over cheap drinks under a web of Christmas lights and a discarded Holland Hotel sign. The ashes of late regular Charlie O'Connor sit in an urn over the bar; after the regulars pitched in for cremation in 1996, barkeep Bill "Doc" Cleary thought about scattering the ashes at Aquaduct, but most agree that gathering dust here is better.
After-work alcoholics have always gathered here--and now that Hell's Kitchen is called Clinton, an increasing number of yuppies drop by for the atmosphere. Everyone hangs on easy conversation, the oldies juke, televised baseball and the next round.