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WITHIN THE FAMILYTales from The West EndBy Alex Sachare ’71
Photo: Marsha Volynsky ’06 
The sale of The West End and the changes that may be in store for the Broadway landmark made me wish I had a great story to tell from my College years, but I don’t. After many late nights at the Spectator office in Ferris Booth Hall, I preferred to head to my Hartley suite and crash. Besides, I never liked the taste of beer. Several of you, however, took us up on our invitation in the May/June issue to share your memories of The West End. Following are some highlights from our mailbag: Yale had its Maury’s, Harvard its Elsie’s … Columbia had The West End. It was the gathering point for me and my friends. It was the place to go after an evening in the library and certainly late on a Saturday night before crashing. It was where much of my College days happened, were planned and emerged, always with a fun tinge, over 15 cent beers. For me, the “Wet End” was more than just another restaurant/bar. It had character. It was full of conversation — often far from Contemporary Civilization, the course, but very much my contemporary lifestyle. The proprietor in the early 1960s was Saul Roberts, who lived in my hometown in upstate New York. We always talked about the small dairy town that has since turned into a bedroom community for greater New York City … So long, West End. What a grand place. I will miss you. Geoffrey A. Thompson ’63 I read with nostalgia Laura Butchy ’04 Arts’ article regarding the new ownership and renaming of The West End. [Editor’s note: It’s now called Havana Central at the West End Café.] I have fond memories of that eatery from the late ’40s and early ’50s when for lunch I could get hot meat sandwiches, made from slices carved right off freshly baked turkey, roast beef, corned beef or pastrami. No packaged luncheon meats were served. Will Jeremy Merrin ’00 Business, the new owner, return to that tradition? The West End, I fear, will never be the same, for which I will shed figurative tears. Alden Mesrop ’52 I read Laura Butchy ’04 Arts’ piece on The West End, “home to Beatnik nostalgia … getting a facelift this summer.” It quotes the new owner as saying, “The West End is not going away. … I have great respect for its history.” History? The place was gutted, remodeled and enlarged in the mid-’60s when I was at the College so that any remnant of Beatnick nostalgia was erased. If any nascent Beat writers who hung out there when the place still had some of its seedy character returned, I believe they would neither have recognized nor felt at home in it. Speaking of nostalgia leads me to my most vivid memory of the place: the night Kennedy was assassinated. Like most people who lived through that, I remember where I was when I heard. I was a freshman in my second-floor room in Hartley, above the quad, where people were strangely gathered around a transistor radio. Later that night, I remember walking into The West End and being freaked out … I had walked through that front door looking for people to commune with and was greeted with the usual roar of drinking and talking that took place on any busy night … as if nothing had happened. I was so taken aback and appalled that I beat (pun intended) it out of there quick. The West End that had any distinctive character and was the stuff of legend is long, long gone. Frank Richard ’67 After reading Thomas Merton ’38’s autobiography The Seven Storey Mountain, I was convinced I would enter the contemplative and celibate life of a monk that still allowed for active involvement in the contemporary world through observation and writing. Then, I discovered The West End. Unfortunately, I did not have the benefit of consulting The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists, by Neil Strauss ’91 (Bookshelf, May/June), which describes “the art of picking up women.” Despite that handicap, I developed my own “game” and was successful with it at The West End. Thus concluded my interest in the celibate life and started the heart and soul of my social life at Columbia. I continued to lead a contemplative life. Thank you, West End. You shall be sorely missed, but your disappearance may benefit the currently dwindling ranks of celibate monks. Dr. Sylvain Fribourg ’62 Gene Shekita ’49 was big (230 lbs.), strong, highly intelligent and friendly, the center of the Columbia football team that ended Army’s winning streak at Baker Field in 1947. One night at The West End, Gene was holding court in a standing circle with four or five of us. In walked “Tex,” slamming the door against the wall, saying, “I want your biggest guy.” No reaction. Tex was 6 feet 3 inches tall, muscular, with a cowboy-styled shirt, pointed cowboy boots and a large, gleaming, oval belt buckle. Tex spotted Gene and headed toward our circle. Stepping into the circle, he tapped Gene on the shoulder and stepped through the circle. No reaction. Tex came back from that side and firmly bumped into Gene, who said, in the vernacular of the day, something like, “We want no trouble, fellow, so please cool it.” Tex continued through the circle and back, ramming into Gene. A feint, a solid right to the jaw and Tex was knocked out. Two West End bouncers picked up Tex and tossed him outside saying, “Don’t come back.” We never saw Tex again. Gene brushed his hands together and continued our lively conversation, never missing a beat. P.S.: Often, some of us, aided by a few beers, would close The West End at 3 a.m., singing “Bye, Bye, Blackbird.” Those were the days. Dick Allerton Jr. ’51
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