I grew up in the Corning-Painted Post area of Upstate New York, and I have fond memories of many of the restaurants, taverns and pubs that were a big part of the daily life of that industrial area. Corning in particular had an abundance of corner and neighborhood bars and taverns, the kind that were always full of life, loud people and good food. I was, of course, very young then, but I often went to these places with my (much) older brothers, often after a little league game or practice, where I got to sit at the bar with one of them, or in a group of their friends at a table, and have a soda and a burger, or a basket of the now-ubiquitous Buffalo chicken wings. Because of the Flood of '72 (Hurricane Agnes), a good many of those places are gone. Those were different times back then, but the memories of the laughter and jokes, the crusty old bartenders ("Hey kid, how are ya? Nice game last night. Coke's on me"), and the feeling of belonging to a place, always were very strong in my mind. I found some of those places when I was a college student in Binghamton (which might explain why I didn't do a lot of dating then; no self-respecting girl would set foot in most of those places).
I had thought that all those places were gone, until I moved east to Cooperstown, then Albany, and finally Schenectady. Cooperstown itself had a few then until it was "discovered" and almost all have now been converted into upscale, touristy establishments. A couple remain. Albany had some, but because of the modern, never-ending process of Albany redeveloping itself (started by Gov. Rockefeller in the early 1960's), only a few remain. And then I started visiting Schenectady. Since I moved down here, I have found several old bars that evoke in me those memories of places from my childhood, and I hope to write about them too in future posts. But one in particular, for me, stands far above the rest, and that is Slick's Tavern & Restaurant, nestled on the corner of Ferry and Liberty Streets in the Stockade.
When I first walked through the door of Slick's, I felt as if I had been transported back in time. It's located in a corner building that has been around since 1804. It's thin and long, and visually busy: the walls are packed with historical photos and ancient beer paraphernalia. It has a beautiful, old wooden bar and classical backdrop that leaves you a little mellow. By the door is an antique Frigid Igloo cooler, stocked full of beer. The overall feeling is one of timelessness and nostalgia that I hadn't felt in a very long time.
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| The warm and cozy atmosphere of Slick's Tavern. (c)2015, Richard Vang. |
I was greeted by a large man in a crisp white shirt, black vest and pants, and with a shock of white hair that Tip O'Neil would envy. Embroidered on the left breast of his vest was the word Slick's. I had a couple of Gennys (they have Genny!), talked with the bartender about various things (he seemed interested in knowing about me), and walked back out into the world. I was stunned. How could it be that there are still places like this in the world? I fell in love with the place, and visited a few more times over a couple of years when I could. But it was a long drive home to the Helderberg Hilltowns. Eventually I could not get Slick's out of my mind, and I began to explore the surrounding neighborhood, and what I found in the Stockade was a treasure. There were more places like this, and vintage jazz clubs, a walkable downtown with good restaurants and entertainment, and public transportation. And I never recovered.
With all that Schenectady and the Stockade had to offer, the decision of where to relocate was easy. But it was always Slick's that stuck out foremost in my mind. I looked forward to being a part of a neighborhood and tight-knit community again. The thought of working hard all week, and then just walking a couple minutes to have a beer in a friendly neighborhood tavern was sublime.
So let's talk about Slick's. The original owner, Doug Slick, was a loud and boisterous man who probably made as many enemies as he did friends. "Slick" ran an early, if not the first, ambulance service in Albany. Mike Naumoff, the current owner, told me that he thinks Slick once was a driver for "Legs" Diamond, and was eventually run out of Albany for something related to the ambulance business. Knowing what I know about Albany's political and social history of the time (see the works of William Kennedy), I have no reason to doubt the tale. Slick and his wife Alice came to Schenectady back in the early 1960's, and opened up the bar in its current location. They lived upstairs, and while Slick operated the joint, Alice made sandwiches for the hungry patrons who came there. Mike tells me that it was THE watering hole for all the bartenders and waitresses in the city, and even after events like the Tavern Owners Association Ball, they would all end up at Slick's.
By 1974, Mike Naumoff had been working in the bar and restaurant business for several years at various places like the Turf Tavern and the Union Inn. He, along with "Part-time Frankie" (one of the all-time great nicknames), helped out Slick once in a while when he needed a break. Barbara Zimmer had done some waitressing and was a ward secretary for Ellis Hospital. Mike and Barbara married in April 1974, and a few months later, Mike heard that Slick was ready to exit the business. When Mike asked him about that, Slick replied, "It's yours," and so together Mike and Barbara purchased the business from Slick. That's right -- as of October 2014 they have owned and operated Slick's for 40 YEARS. Obviously that means they have been able to please their customers and keep them coming back for decades. So what's the secret?
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| Roast beef sandwich, only at Slick's. (c)2015, Richard Vang. |
Well, the establishment at 127 S. Ferry Street is famous and loved for many things, but -- as their tag line says -- it's "Famous for Sandwiches Since 1974." These aren't your run-of-the-mill sandwiches. To quote Billy Fuccillo, these things are "HUGE!" They offer a selection of turkey, roast beef, corned beef, ham and tuna, on white, wheat or rye, with basic condiments and extra toppings like lettuce, onion or cheese. The sandwiches come with chips and a side of pickles or homemade macaroni salad, all for between $6.25 and $8.75. Prices vary a bit with each type of sandwich, and the tuna salad sandwich is piled not quite as high because, as Mike says, "it would just shoot out the side when you bite into it." But I have had them all, and they are wonderful; thinly sliced deli meats stacked about six inches high. It's hard to say how many slices, and there is a intriguing sign above the slicer that reads, "Don't Count The Slices." For me, my favorite is a corned beef on rye, with Russian dressing and thinly sliced onion, with pickles for a side.
You can get a bowl of the macaroni salad on its own, made the way my mom used to make it, with chunks of white tuna and onion. During the colder seasons, they also offer homemade soups, like clam chowder or minestrone, and sometimes I will just get a bowl of mac salad and a cup of soup when I've wandered in on a snowy night. Simple and delicious. The menu at Slick's is basic, but it is a winning recipe that has kept locals and GE employees on their lunch break coming back time and time again.
When it comes to beer, well, Mike Naumoff knows his beer. I mentioned that I sometimes drink a Genesee beer, but that comes from hometown loyalty and nostalgia more than anything. Mike carries some other old favorites as well, like Ballantine, which comes with a rebus printed on the underside of every cap. Mike and I always have a good time with those, wracking our brains and seeing who can be first to decipher the often odd picture puzzles. He carries other popular Canadian and American beers, but it is Mike's selection of craft and imported beer that make it a good place for beer lovers. The Frigid Igloo is stocked full of craft brews from New York State and beyond. And with just two tap handles, Mike always tries to devote one of them to a New York State seasonal craft beer. (Sometimes the distributors don't always cooperate, but don't get him started.)
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| The proper way to serve a Rob Roy. (c)2015, Richard Vang. |
If you aren't into beer, they also have a standard selection of wines, but a really well-stocked bar. Part of the allure for me is that Mike and Barbara are old-school bartenders. They really know how to make a classic cocktail. They have decent well liquor, but a very fine menu of top-shelf brands as well. But it's the way they make a cocktail that makes it so enjoyable, from the correct glassware to the proper techniques. Watching Mike mix a martini is like watching a fine craftsman ply his trade. It is old-school class and respect all the way. If you've heard of classic cocktails like a Sidecar or a Harvey Wallbanger (think "Mad Men") but never tried one, then go to Slick's and get one there.
The ambiance of Slick's is one of comfort and relaxation, where mutual respect and friendliness is the name of the game. It can seem quiet even when it is full of people; there is no loud blaring music that requires you to shout to have a conversation. There is music playing in the background, but it is just that -- background music. There are two televisions, one on top of the Frigid Igloo at the bar and one for the dining tables at the far end. The one at the bar is usually the only one on, either with sports or some crime drama that some of the patrons seem addicted to, and the second comes on if there happens to be a big sporting event and people at the tables. Happy hour can find the bar usually full, especially on Fridays when they put out a couple of cheese and cracker plates for the patrons. (Who does that any more?) Nights that the Schenectady Civic Players have a performance can find the back full as well, but for me, it's always nice when not many people are in and Mike and I and a few other regulars can talk about sports and politics and local history. Slick's is open Noon to Midnight every day, except during July and August, when they close for the summer weekends.
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| Port cheese spread and crackers. (c)2015, Richard Vang. |
So, with the giant sandwiches, the great beer selection, and the always comfortable and cozy feel, Slick's is hard to beat. But in my eyes, it is Mike and Barbara who make Slick's the special place that it is. Their level of daily commitment is astounding. They both still work a full week there, Barbara in her white shirt, green apron and khaki pants, and Mike in his white shirt, black vest and black pants. They have an old-school level of class that is hard to come by these days. Their sense of community pride and loyalty to Schenectady has never wavered. They always support local events and businesses and participate in community activities like their high school alumni association. A long-time season ticket holder, Mike goes to every Union College hockey game he can, and was there in Philadelphia when the Dutchmen took the 2014 NCAA Division I title. Coach Bennett honored that loyalty later on by bringing the trophy to Slick's during lunch so we all could see it and get our pictures taken with it. Mine hangs on my fridge at home.
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| Mike and Barbara Naumoff with the NCAA Division I Hockey trophy. (c)2015, Richard Vang. |
Like I said at the beginning, Slick's is one of the reasons I moved to Schenectady; I was glad to know that such places still exist. A friend of mine likes to refer to it as "an old man bar." Well, if that makes me an old man, so be it. The Millenials and Hipsters today are very interested in the integrity of the product they are buying, so whenever I meet one of these younger persons who flock to Schenectady's newer establishments, I always tell them about Slick's. They need to know that THIS is how it is supposed to be done.
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(c)2015, Richard Vang, All Rights Reserved. No text, images or other content may be copied, reproduced or otherwise used without the expressed written permission of the author.
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