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A few weeks ago, a reporter for the Daily News did a shop-through of Windsor Terrace, concluding that it had a “quaint retail mix” &#8212 that was actually the article’s title. Her take on neighborhood fixture Farrell’s &#8212 “Farrell’s smells like beer, has a hardwood floor, and neon Budweiser signs and an American flag in the windows… It’s not my cup of tea – or beer” &#8212 inspired a response from a longtime neighborhood resident on Container Diaries, a Windsor Terrace blog. “Institutions like Farrell’s and their survival are critical to the history that is so deeply entrenched in a neighborhood like Windsor Terrace.” The debate that follows is so heated, we thought for a minute we were reading Brownstoner.
Protect Your Turf [Container Diaries]
Farrell’s Pub. Photo by Rob Hoey.


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  1. GIOSUE You may have to closely examine yourself to discover why it is that people find you offensive.
    I’m all for “whatever gets you through the night”
    but I wouldn’t go to a boxing match wearing a tutu.
    Seems to me that maybe you and your “boyfriend”
    might have mistaken WT for the slope, williamsburg or greenwich village. Yes people in flamboyant clothing do get attention and perhaps the wrong kind, but wasn’t that one of the reasons for being outrageously attired?

    Try a genuine warm smile next time and perhaps you’ll get one in return.

  2. Here we go again!!

    Seems like no matter what you do in WT somebody’s gonna be unhappy.

    Mr. Houlihan has been gracious enough to carry other products besides budweiser in recognition of his aging & changing clientele. Sorry if the wine wasn’t organic enough for you.

    The picture is from the Brooklyn Irish parade which has seniors, children & veterans that march each year. How many of you brownstoners watched it these last couple years and were impressed?, something different than the LES or Tompkins Square.

    Infinite jester can appreciate a little humor. Sender & Bkkkklyn need to grow or borrow a pair.

    At Farrells we’ve had visitors from many countries and other cities in the U.S.of A who felt the authentic atmosphere reminded them of their own place where they felt comfortable. We have plenty of civil servants and plenty professionals as well. You might recognize some of these men & women when & if you visit local hopsitals or need to call the police, fire department or other city services.

    No one is treated differently because of where they work or what they do. If & when you weasels do depart this world for the next one we’ll be sure to send an arrangement assuming we know who you are. Or maybe a blanket ” to weasel” will suit you just fine. I hope to see some of you the next time the neighborhood dry cleaner owner is murdered, your presence or lack there of was & will be noted. Suffer the death of thy neighbors? For your sakes I hope not. We have lost many dear neighbors some of whom were priced out of the very apartments you now live in. Hope you sleep well.

    From me, the guy with the cigarette by the back door.

  3. I recently moved into the SS and a coupla people told me about Farrells, working people, and since I’m one myself, I thought I might stop by one day on my way home from work and suck up this mystical atmosphere along with a cold one.

    Since ‘stoner’s are often accused of using the word ‘sketchy’ as race baiting or a race code, may I say that I find this place more than ‘sketchy’. I’m uncomfortable when I walk by, and I’ve been in similar iconic bars in NYC. The people I see in there are not cops, and are not firemen, and are not ironworkers. I hang with union guys all the time, and these are not them. I get a very bad vibe about the place, and many of the above comments seem to clarify why.

  4. Giosue (12.03), that’s quite a post.

    Insular communities are always double-edged. Comforting and safe to those who subscribe to their norms; often hostile to those who don’t.

    I’ve never been to Windsor Terrace, even though I grew up in Brooklyn, often wondering what the “other side” of the park was like while visiting family members in Park Slope. (To get them out of their neighborhood is next to impossible — unless it’s Manhattan.)

    The picture of Farrell’s is appealing. But for an outsider, exclusive. And I write as someone who had an Irish-American girlfriend and am somewhat familiar with her group’s simultaneous warmth and wariness (and frequent hostility) to people outside the fold. There she was, bright and beautiful, raised in a limestone house off Fifth Avenue by her Princeton-educated father (who married his Irish servant) and Ivy-educated herself, and out would come a thousand year’s worth of resentments — without warning, breathtaking in their comprehensiveness.

    I think Frank McCourt wrote that there’s nothing more miserable than childhood, and nothing more miserable than an Irish chidhood. In the case of my girlfriend, even if it’s on Fifth Avenue.

    Best wishes to you as you make your way day-to-day through the neighborhood. (Seeing those fellows standing in front of Farrell’s, I think I’d walk on the other side of the street. And I don’t hesitate to walk through tougher neighborhoods than Windsor Terrace.)

    Nostalgic on Park Avenue

  5. Because you want it to change to cater to you and they don’t do that. So suck it up and next time, order a scotch and a beer and as they “Be good or be gone”. Or don’t go. Pretty much your two options. Your third would be to put up the dukes. Stop, I am gettng nostalgic. They actually serve bottled beer now and covered the tiled floor.

  6. You know, I see both sides of this as I was born and raised in Staten Island, where every other guy is a fireman or cop who frequented Farrells. I never stepped foot in Farrels until I moved to Park Slope. I moved to Park Slope 10 years ago for the same reason everyone else did. It was a nice nabe with good food, and wine, etc. I like art, music and green markets. So yes, I guess you can call me a “yuppie”. (I hate labels) But this is one Yuppie who was happy to discover that Farrells was in the very neighborhood that she moved to. I actually called my old Staten Island friends to brag about how close I lived to Farrels.

    Yes I like good food (my mom is a native Italian so I ate well) and good wine. But there aint nothin’ better than a tall glass of suds on a hot summer day. So its nice to have Farrells around the block for just that. The rudeness of the staff, I could do without. But being from Staten Island, I know how to give it right back to em’

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