The Last of the Bar Cars

The Metro North Railroad bar cars are a dying tradition. Commuters traveling between New York City and New Haven are the last in the northeast to enjoy the bar car as a place to kick back after work have a cocktail and socialize. Besides Amtrak, which is used more often for long distance commutes, the regional commuter cars no longer offer this unique service.

"Gentlemen's Bar Car"

The New Haven Railroad operated a number of private commuter club cars during the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s. Most of these private commuter club cars operated out of Grand Central Terminal in New York City and served the wealthy suburbs of Westchester and Fairfield counties. One or two (such as the South Shore Club) operated out of Boston's South Station on the Old Colony commuter lines.

(Although NOT private club cars, they began to give the pubic the impression of a private club cars because the daily riders took upon themselves the appearance of an [close-knit] association.)

Supposedly superintendent of dining car service Wilfred Duprey came up with the idea of the standard commuter bar cars during the late 1940s. The private commuter club cars for wealthy commuters were a natural extension of this service. Club cars were leased to private commuter clubs on an annual basis. The New Haven stocked the cars with playing cards, beverages, snacks, and an attendant. Club members were assessed an annual membership fee which took care of the car. Additionally, they had to pay the standard commuter fare.

Many of the private commuter clubs were organized along business lines. For example, there were clubs composed exclusively of advertising men, newspapermen, investment brokers, etc. Some of the private commuter clubs which operated out of New York's Grand Central Terminal were so exclusive that permission had to be granted in advance from a member of the club's executive committee before a guest could be brought on board the car.

It has been said that the New Haven's dining car losses were offset by the money taken in on the Grand Central Terminal commuter bar cars. For many years Westchester and Fairfield counties led the nation in rates of alcoholism. Commuters who patronized the New Haven's bar cars would often have four or five drinks during their ride home. It has been said that in many cases, these people had previously consumed the famous New York City 'three martini lunch' and that they would 'unwind' with additional drinks once back home.

This story was excepted from a wonderful collection of railroad stories, facts and memorabilia available in the collected writings of Ken Kinlock. Visit > http://www.geocities.com/k_kinlock/connecticut.htm

Northeastern commuters cling to the last of the bar cars

By Shelley E. Preston
PHOTO: Steve Hopper

Conductor Eric Germain tries to keep up with the mingling crowd on a Metro North bar car

For commuters on the Metro North Railroad, happy hour begins exactly at 5:52 p.m. "It's a stone cold bummer when we don't catch the bar car," says Tod Gillespie, 31, a senior interface developer, "we're fairly addicted to it."

The first three cars zoom by at the Stamford, Conn., station blowing the rumpled suit tails of commuters making their way back to Grand Central Station. As the windowless fourth car passes, there is a visible shift in mood. "There she is!" says Gil Martinez, 30, a software developer who works with Gillespie, as he walks briskly toward the fleeting car.

Currently, there are ten cars assigned to the New Haven, Conn. Line. There used to be 20, but New York City got rid of its bar cars in 1983 because the cars, which have limited seating, took up too much space for the crunch of morning commuters.

"Connecticut was adamant about keeping theirs," says Jesse Valley, a commuter relations representative for the Metro North Railroad.

"Nobody stepped up to the plate to fight for New York's cars," says Bill Schnirring, CEO of Associated Business Publications. He was responsible for creating a successful petition to save Connecticut's cars 18 years ago. He says that when the cars become due for repair in a few years, it may be the excuse the Metro North needs to get rid of them.

The doors hiss open and the conductor sticks his arm out holding a flimsy sign with a picture of Johnny Walker Red: "bar car," it reads."Whoo hoo!" Gillespie and his co-workers exclaim as they clamor toward the door.

The bar car is grimy and well worn. Valley says the cars are some of the oldest in the line. Both ends of the car are wrapped in dingy orange vinyl seats. The poles used for hanging on are outfitted with equally grubby rubber drink holders. The faux-wood bar is on the right side of the car if you are headed to New York. Atop the bar are a couple of shoddy-looking cardboard boxes filled to the brim with potato chips.

Commuters line up along the bar hanging on to the vinyl bumpers as they jostle to the rhythm of the train. "$3.50 please" says Robert Hidalgo as he slams down a wet can of beer for a businessman groping for his wallet. Hidalgo's blue Metro Transit Authority polo shirt is unbuttoned just enough to expose a thick gold chain around his neck. He's been a bartender for the Metro North for 12 years. "Some (bartenders) have been here for 30 years," he says.

The bar car has a mystique because not everyone knows about it. "I just discovered it by accident," says Daniel Harper, 30, a product designer from Brooklyn. "Now, any time I take the (Metro North), I try to grab it."

The bar car seems to be a secret, but finding a train with a bar car really isn't that difficult. The ticket man behind the booth at the Stamford station slides a timetable across the counter. "See, you can tell which trains have the bar car because of this little thing by the time." he says, pointing to a cryptic looking symbol that clearly resembles a martini glass if you know what you're looking for.

Gillespie, who lives in Brooklyn, shares the reverse commute with those whose jobs were displaced from downtown Manhattan after September 11. He was forced to find a job outside New York City since the economy went sour and he was laid off from MTV.com.

Gillespie says he refuses to give leave his urban lifestyle for the banal offerings of Connecticut's suburbs. He says he's willing to put up with the long commute. His life consists of work and sleep giving him little time to socialize during the week -- he says the bar car is a saving grace.

Even the conductors seem devoted to the bar car culture. Conductor Eric Germain says he doesn't mind the extra work it takes to locate their mingling passengers. "It's an old tradition, and the customers seem to enjoy it," says Germain as he punches a ticket.

"People always offer me drinks," he laughs. "It would be nice... I bet in the old days, they'd let you do it," he adds with a grin.

The receding rays of sunlight disappear as the train dives under the East River, and rolls into Grand Station at 6:45 p.m. Empty cans and plastic cups are left behind as passengers head for home.

Kara Kirpatick, 32, who works for a commercial real estate firm in Rye, N.Y., is returning to her apartment in the East Village. She says she understands how some people may be bothered by the space the bar car takes up in the morning, but would be disappointed if there wasn't a bar car in the evening. She says she isn't the booze, but the schmooz she is interested in.

"It's nice," she says, "you see the same people all the time. It's like a little family."

BarCar story posted with permission from the Columbia University online news letter

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