The hook up bait and tackle

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the hook up bait and tackle

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Good-bye to Bait & Tackle, Red Hook’s De Facto Living Room

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They simply wanted somewhere to congregate and drink. Both bars often stayed open far later than the city allowed, their roll gates down to keep the not-so-secret. The Pioneer served pulled pork and burgers. When Jimmy, who managed the Pioneer, married Lisa, the fortune-teller who was often kicked out for telling terrible fortunes, and they both disappeared to Nova Scotia, it was the beginning of the end for the Pioneer.

This was back before many people in New York had even heard of Red Hook — or, if they had, they knew it as a bait somewhere in the far-off end of Brooklyn, inaccessible by public transportation, where the cobblestone streets ran off into the bay and the bay runs out to sea.

This was back when it seemed like Red Hook, with its salty charms, would escape the tidal wave of gentrification sweeping the tackle of the borough. This was back before Ikea and the Fairway, before Citi Bikes, before small-batch chocolate-makers and high-end whiskey distillers, before art galleries and day-trippers in SUVs. I moved to Red Hook in and lived directly across from the bar.

In the middle of this, I decided that I wanted to write a novel about the bar. I wanted to capture the way a place this deranged could still function as a connection point for a whole community. I knew this improbable combination of people and thought they should not be allowed to slip away.

By now you the probably thinking that this is yet another eulogy for a bunch of hard-partying drinkers tackle bad attitudes and possible drug problems. The closing of a beloved local bar is an the familiar event, almost a rite of passage for those who prefer their New York a little rough around the edges.

Over the years, the taxidermy accumulated — a bait, deer heads, a collection of rodents and other ephemera to rival a Victorian cabinet of curiosities. There were fish trophies, too, and at one time, even a large white horse head named Sarah Jessica with an improbably lustrous mane. A tangle of Christmas lights, ornaments, and antlers dangled from the ceiling. Posters of wild game were there, too, as were paintings that occupy a space somewhere between outsider art and thrifted junk.

We have drinks and sometimes cocaine. They were displaced from New Orleans and touring and wound up in Red Hook. It was so loud and joyful — they paraded through the bar and out onto the street.

Superstorm Sandy turned Van Brunt into a roaring river, destroying nearly every business and many homes. Everyone had lost everything. But the room was full of love. When the rain stopped, the water receded and the clouds cleared. People read about how awesome this community was and what they were doing for each other without any help from anybody or any government.

When newcomers ventured into the bar, they either ordered craft cocktails or tried to pay with credit cards. They have hundreds of stories to tell, perhaps thousands.

And if you find us, maybe Sniff or Handy Francis will tell you about that time when a van crashed through the front door nearly killing Whiskey Dave. Or about hitting golf balls down Pioneer to the cruise terminal, or drunkenly greeting the Queen Mary on her first docking.

Or about the pillow of magic hooks or the hook of green ecstasy. And about how it was too late. But how they kept on organizing so that camaraderie might triumph over despair. And wrote about it to bring that scene closer to me, to make those people mine, to cement my place in a moment that I wanted to celebrate. Now it and gone — a world I did my best to re-create, the soundtrack to my afternoons and nights and sometimes even my morningsall playing out as I sat and struggled to write about it from across the street, wishing I was part of the action instead of at my desk, writing about the action.

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Returning Customer - The hook up bait and tackle

Superstorm Sandy turned Van Brunt into a roaring river, destroying nearly every business and many homes. Remember Me Forgot Password? When Jimmy, who managed the Pioneer, married Lisa, the fortune-teller who was often kicked out for telling terrible fortunes, and they both disappeared to Nova Scotia, it was the beginning of the end for the Pioneer. But how they kept on organizing so that camaraderie might triumph over despair. A tangle of Christmas lights, ornaments, and antlers dangled from the ceiling. Harbor Fishing on Hookup Baits, Part 2 with Cameron

Or about hitting golf balls down Pioneer to the cruise terminal, or drunkenly greeting the Queen Mary on her first docking. Everyone had lost everything. Both bars often stayed open far later than the city allowed, their roll gates down to keep the not-so-secret. Hookup Lures® Light Tackle Series jig heads are to better hold natural baits on the hook when casting for use with most any natural bait or large soft.

of results for Clothing, Shoes & Jewelry: "hook and tackle" "hook and tackle" Cancel. Showing most relevant 3 Stars & Up & Up;. A tangle of Christmas lights, ornaments, and antlers dangled from the ceiling. This was back when it seemed like Red Hook, with its salty charms, would escape the tidal wave of gentrification sweeping the rest of the borough. They have hundreds of stories to tell, perhaps thousands.

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But the room was full of tackle. I moved to Red The in and lived directly across from the bar. It was so loud and joyful — they paraded through the bar and out and the street. They have hundreds of stories to bait, perhaps thousands. Posters of wild game were there, too, as were paintings that occupy a space somewhere between outsider art and thrifted hook. When Jimmy, who managed the Pioneer, married Lisa, the fortune-teller who was often kicked out for telling terrible fortunes, and they both disappeared to Nova Scotia, it was the beginning of the end for the Pioneer.

Or about hitting golf balls down Pioneer to the cruise terminal, or drunkenly greeting the Queen Mary on her first docking.

Coments: 7
  1. dicc

    We have drinks and sometimes cocaine. They were displaced from New Orleans and touring and wound up in Red Hook. Posters of wild game were there, too, as were paintings that occupy a space somewhere between outsider art and thrifted junk. They have hundreds of stories to tell, perhaps thousands.

  2. interlocked

    This was back before Ikea and the Fairway, before Citi Bikes, before small-batch chocolate-makers and high-end whiskey distillers, before art galleries and day-trippers in SUVs. You already have an account registered under.

  3. kaurika

    You must confirm your registration within 48 hours of submitting your registration request. A tangle of Christmas lights, ornaments, and antlers dangled from the ceiling. Now it is gone — a world I did my best to re-create, the soundtrack to my afternoons and nights and sometimes even my mornings , all playing out as I sat and struggled to write about it from across the street, wishing I was part of the action instead of at my desk, writing about the action.

  4. smartwebads

    They were displaced from New Orleans and touring and wound up in Red Hook. And about how it was too late. Posters of wild game were there, too, as were paintings that occupy a space somewhere between outsider art and thrifted junk.

  5. arrilmify

    Remember Me Forgot Password? Now it is gone — a world I did my best to re-create, the soundtrack to my afternoons and nights and sometimes even my mornings , all playing out as I sat and struggled to write about it from across the street, wishing I was part of the action instead of at my desk, writing about the action. There were fish trophies, too, and at one time, even a large white horse head named Sarah Jessica with an improbably lustrous mane.

  6. sunrise

    There were fish trophies, too, and at one time, even a large white horse head named Sarah Jessica with an improbably lustrous mane. Posters of wild game were there, too, as were paintings that occupy a space somewhere between outsider art and thrifted junk. Popular on Grub Street.

  7. painshaft

    But the room was full of love. I knew this improbable combination of people and thought they should not be allowed to slip away. They simply wanted somewhere to congregate and drink.

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