Letters From (North) America #4

Onwards, with tales of cheesecake, bohemian hotspots and alcoholism...

Perhaps it's just the pedant in me, but surely a prudently-placed comma wouldn't go amiss here? As it is, it sounds like a dubious massage parlour for geriatrics

* Lindy's, recommended by our cab driver on Saturday night, claims to be the home of the best cheesecake in New York. The restaurant is legendary - just down from Times Square on 7th Avenue, it's been a popular meeting point for stars and gangsters alike, and gets a mention in 'Guys And Dolls' - but has unfortunately now been subsumed as part of a chain and is a little grubby round the edges. Our very late lunch still settling, we went straight for the cheesecake - and very good it was too. Larry David will be pleased to know that the Lindy's sandwich that bears his name is a good combination, the classic BLT. The Britney Spears, meanwhile, is described as "overstuffed". "And not suitable for children", Jenni added.

* The Chelsea Hotel can probably lay claim to being the cultural centre of the city. It's where Jack Kerouac wrote the first draft of 'On The Road', William Burroughs finished 'Naked Lunch' and Arthur C. Clarke wrote '2001: A Space Odyssey'. Arthur Miller, Mark Twain, Tennessee Williams, Brendan Behan, Dylan Thomas, Simone de Beauvoir, Jean Paul Sartre, Jasper Johns, Willem de Kooning, Robert Mapplethorpe and Patti Smith - amongst many others - all called it home for a while. Andy Warhol filmed 'Chelsea Girls' at the hotel with Edie Sedgwick, Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell both immortalised it in song and everyone from Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd to Frank Zappa and The Grateful Dead stayed. Much of this rich history is detailed in the plaques which adorn the entrance, but perhaps unsurprisingly there's no mention of the hotel's most infamous incident, Sid Vicious's stabbing of Nancy Spungen in October 1978. A bit shabby outside, it nevertheless has a certain grandeur about it, as well as some garishly bright artworks in the lobby. Definitely the place to book next time we're there...

The Chelsea Hotel sign

Dylan Thomas and Thomas Wolfe wos 'ere

* Wandering through the West Village, we came across a wire mesh fence covered in decorated tiles. A friendly local stopped to explain that they've been there since the days after 9/11, the fence being opposite St Vincent's Hospital where many of the victims were brought. The street outside was littered with gurneys that day, he told us, and priests were passing from person to person performing the last rites. A proud liberal, he felt the country is going to pot and shook his head ruefully at the fact that "New York is not America". It reminded me of the T-shirt slogan I'd seen the previous day: "I never thought I'd miss Nixon".





* Horse silhouettes on the window, horse pictures on the walls, miniature horses' heads on the chandeliers - the White Horse Tavern has a theme and it's sticking to it. When the bohemian residents of the Chelsea have wanted a drink, this has often been the watering hole of choice - Kerouac, Dylan, Behan, James Baldwin and Hunter S. Thompson were all regulars. I was delighted to find that the neon sign in the window meant they had "Newcastle" (aka Newcastle Brown Ale) on tap, and we sat at a table outside in the stifling evening heat watching a mouse running up and down in the shadows. The day's exertions suddenly catching up with us, we left in a cab, heading for home rather than to Arlene's Grocery for Rock And Roll Karaoke as planned. At least we didn't have to be carried out, as Dylan Thomas did shortly before dying of alcohol poisoning.

We're off out into the sticks for the next couple of days, but there's still another day's worth of New York to come, including tales of spit 'n' sawdust bars, trespassing and egg conundrums...