We Irish tend to admire our writers. After all, it’s a lonely old job - long hours spent mooning into monitors, broken only by visits to the...

Stefan Lutak was Ukrainian. He owned the Holiday Cocktail Lounge on St. Mark’s Place. Despite its name it was a beer-and-shot joint I stumbl...

I was on the Union Square subway platform when I heard the familiar notes cascading off in the distance. With the arrival or departure of a ...

  What a blast to move to New York from     Wexford town - the size, the bustle, and the sheer moxie of the city, but also the originality a...

The word on the street in Queens was, “Donny couldn’t organize a two car funeral.” Anyone could be forgiven one bankruptcy, but six was stre...

The divide between lace curtain and shanty had pretty much disappeared by the time I hit New York in the 1970’s. That being said, the client...

About twenty years ago, I happened to be in the right place at the right time. I was visiting the Sirius Satellite Radio headquarters for an...