What the White Horse Tavern meant in the 1950s

The rough edges are long gone from the White Horse Tavern, the corner bar at Hudson and West 11th Streets that’s been serving drinks (not always under that name) since 1880.

Originally this dark, old school bar (above, in 1961) catered to longshoremen and locals. Today, it’s spiffed up for a sidewalk cafe kind of crowd.

But for a moment in time in the 1950s, this saloon with the white horse heads in the windows became a place for writers.

These writers, mostly young men, gathered in the wood-paneled back room to talk books, culture, and politics with others from across the political spectrum.

The White Horse’s postwar literary crowd were drawn to Dylan Thomas (right), the Welsh poet who became a regular, reportedly because it reminded him of the bars in Wales.

It was also where he had his last drinks, having collapsed on the sidewalk after downing 18 shots of whiskey on November 3, 1953. Thomas died at St. Vincent’s Hospital three days later.

His death enhanced the White Horse’s rep (above in 1940), and young writers made the place their own, according to Dan Wakefield, at the time a 23-year-old freelance writer living on Jones Street.

“We regulars in the back room thought of ourselves as underdogs and rebels in Eisenhower’s America,” recalled Wakefield in his 1992 memoir, New York in the 1950s.

“Most often when I went to the White Horse I was waved to a table by Mike Harrington, the author and activist who served as the informal host of an ongoing seminar on culture and politics, dispensing information and opinion interspersed with great anecdotes about left-wing labor leaders and colorful factional fights of political splinter groups I could never keep straight….”

The writers of the White Horse weren’t just left-wing. “Adding to the social life and political repartee in the back room of the Horse were fresh young righties,” noted Wakefield, who wrote that they “turned out to be perfectly pleasant, witty, intelligent people, and we lefty liberals and right-wing conservatives found we had more common ground of conversation and interest with one another” then with those who wee apolitical.

It’s hard to imagine in our polarized social media era, but people really used to get together in person at bars and engage in free-ranging conversations about books, politics, and culture.

Art D’Lugoff, who opened the Village Gate nightclub, recalled in Wakefield’s book: “I used to make the rounds of the bars—Julius’s for those fat hamburgers on toast, then the San Remo, the Kettle of Fish, and the White Horse. Booze was a social thing. The bar scene wasn’t just to get drunk. It was like the public square in a town or a sidewalk cafe in Paris—comradely meeting and talking.”

At the White Horse, Wakefield mixed with Norman Mailer, Seymour Krim, and James Baldwin (above in 1955), who lived on Horatio Street and was often targeted by the working-class Irish and Italians in the neighborhood.

Baldwin wasn’t the only one, Wakefield wrote, explaining that local Villagers “regarded all bohemians as suspicious interlopers. The hostility toward all nonconformists was heightened during the McCarthy fervor of the fifties, when mostly Irish kids from the surrounding area made raids on the Horse, swinging fists and chairs, calling the regulars ‘Commies and faggots.'”

The White Horse (above in 1975) was something of a neighborhood respite, and the bar’s literary reputation continued even after Wakefield left New York City in 1962.

At some point decades later, the vibe changed. These days, under new ownership, the White Horse (above, 12 years ago) is more neighborhood pub than literary hangout. But for a short time in postwar Greenwich Village, a crowd of young writers mingled with one another and volleyed ideas and opinions around that back room with passion, energy, and excitement.

[Top image: LOC; second image: Bunny Adler; third image: Danwakefield.com; fourth image: Carl Van Vechten; fifth image: NYC Department of Records and Information Services; sixth photo: MCNY 2013.3.1.613]

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15 Responses to “What the White Horse Tavern meant in the 1950s”

  1. Tony Towle Says:

    The name of the jazz and nightclub impresario was Art D’Lugoff.

  2. rands@rands.digitalspacemail8.net Says:

    Hey there folks at Ephemeral New York…

    I really enjoy what you do, thank you. A note, however, in the item below….the name of Art D’Lugoff, founder of The Village Gate is (grossly) mis-spelled (as Art d’Largoff). You might want to fix that.

    Susan Milano

  3. Shayne Davidson Says:

    I hope the vitality returns to the White Horse Tavern!

  4. countrypaul Says:

    Once upon a time in New York…..

  5. Thomas Sinclair Says:

    I was in the trucking industry in the early 1960s. There were still trucking companies in the Village. A Friday night stop with coworkers was always good.

  6. jeffreybernard1234verizonnet Says:

    Art D’Lugoff. Jeffrey Bernard

  7. ephemeralnewyork Says:

    Apologies for misspelling Art’s last name, it’s fixed!

  8. Robert Ward Says:

    The tradition of talking politics and books (and film) was taken up by the Lion’s Head at Sheridan Square. The greatest of all Village Bars.

    • ephemeralnewyork Says:

      Ah yes, I know someone who spent many nights there, talking books and politics and listening to the Clancy Brothers. Sigh.

    • ROB Says:

      Having pulled lots of time in both the Lion’s Head and the Horse, I disagree. The White Horse had no juke box, less pretension and moved solely on conversation from pure drinkers. Situated on Hudson retained lots of neighborhood vibe (not as much as the Cookie Bar granted) which the Head lacked.

  9. Jared Goldstein Says:

    I read that John Lennon loved Greenwich Village pubs, especially in the early 1970s. The Whitehorse could well have been the closest one to his and Yoko’s Bank Street apartment, but I have not been able to get any corroboration.

    All I got was that, in that era, it was a longshoremen’s bar. Were the writers gone by then? Any John Lennon sightings ?

    • ROB Says:

      After the Lion’s Head moved to Sheridan Sq in 68 -69 most of the bar action moved east, Bradley’s, Bells of Hell etc. By that time the Horse was a pretty tough place leavened by English majors in search of the Dylan Thomas aura. Which was what propelled Bob Dylan to make some visits in the 60s. It was always a blue collar joint. Never heard of Lennon there.

  10. ROB Says:

    The hamburgers in Juliuses weren’t that fat but they were served on toast. All in all pretty good for those joints. The Horse menu was kielbasa and hard boiled eggs.

    • ephemeralnewyork Says:

      Julius is still with us, right? I keep meaning to try those burgers and I hope it’s not too late.

      • ROB Says:

        Note what I call it, Juliuses not Julius. In those days it was the plebeian pronunciation that ruled. In those days on a crowded Friday night you had to be a regular to snare a hamburger without a interminable wait or, if the cook didn’t like the cut of your jib (the stove was on the open on the Tenth Street side) never.

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