The Russell Gallery is currently under construction

Old time Greenpointers may remember when a piano player named Vernon entertained patrons in the bar at the corner of Nassau and Russell. Depending on your age, the bar was known as Smitty's, Gavin's or Goodman's. On this page we'll call it Goodman's. The back room was (is?) called the Palace Cafe and served as a restaurant and catered room.

Vernon entertained the weekend crowd for many years (beginning sometime in the 1960's(?) and extending at least into the early 1980's: the exact dates I don't know).

Charles O'Connell (my father) wisely brought a cassette recorder to the bar in September of 1970. Some of what he recorded back then is presented here as a wonderful historic document.

On these recordings you'll hear Vernon play (and boy could he play). You'll hear people get up to sing; including Andy the bartender. Also you'll hear patrons in casual conversation, shooting the breeze in a cozy Greenpoint bar, in a time long ago. Enjoy.

Vernon at Goodman’s piano

Through the late 1960s to the very early 1980s, Goodman’s Bar, on the corner of Russell Street & Nassau Avenue, in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, was the place to go, especially the weekends. Many ex-Greenpointers visited just to spend an evening.

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There were two attractions. The bartender/singer was Andy Slugga (?spelling) and the piano player extraordinary, Vernon. I never did know his last name. Vernon traveled by subway, from Harlem, every Friday, Saturday & Sunday evenings. I believe he usually began around 9 (maybe a little earlier) and finished up around 1 AM. Then took the subway home.

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Vernon & Andy had been together for awhile in other bars and knew each others routines. Andy sang about 4 or 5 sets in an evening, mostly very old songs, with a few newer ones occasionally included. Vernon was his accompanist. When Andy sang, he served no drinks and he expected everyone at the bar to be rather quiet. On a good night, the bar could be almost 2 deep.

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Vernon on the other hand preferred to just tinkle away, playing various standards. That is, until he spotted a customer who he knew would come to the piano & sing a song with him. He had short musical passages, sort of like private codes, different for each possible singer. That way, he said hello & also reminded the person that the mike was open. The musical hello, was often a few notes of a song that Vernon liked to hear the customer sing. Most of us who did sing occasionally, usually needed a few beers to get our singing courage. Vernon would repeat your musical code until you finally went to the piano & mike.

Vernon was really remarkable. He could play a song in any key that suited the singer, and he rarely, if ever, needed sheet music, although he did keep some written music in the piano seat. He knew many , many songs.

While I enjoyed Vernon’s music, I also enjoyed talking to him when he took one of his infrequent breaks. He would come over to where I was sitting at the bar and we would chat. He might have a cola, and that’s the strongest I ever saw him drink. He was a very soft spoken man & it was hard to judge his age, but he was up there, probably in his 70s, in the early 1970s. He often spoke of his days of the Big Bands and all the touring & one night stands they played. I’m not sure if he ever told me the actual bands he played with, but he knew them all, especially the more popular black bands. He came from Cleveland, Ohio and most often spoke of traveling for the most part in the northeast USA.

He made Goodman’s a classy place to be on a weekend, a place where a guy could bring his wife or girl, and know it wouldn’t get too rowdy. As time began catching up to him, I believe Vernon cut his weekend to 2 days, rather than 3. Not sure if that was a Friday or Sunday.

Actually a younger crowd began to enjoy Goodman’s & the jukebox was their preferred music.

Sadly, as Vernon’s playing days were winding down, he was brutally mugged & attacked one night, near the Nassau Ave subway station, while going home. He survived but I never saw him again . He had often spoken of moving back to Cleveland with his wife, and I hope he got his wish.

Charles O'Connell, February 2012