Sometime around 1977, Father Time ducked into the Blarney Cove on East 14th Street and never bothered to start the clock back up when he left. A gnarled shillelagh, or “Irish whuppin’ stick,” hangs on the wall beneath the television, which is typically tuned to baseball or horse races. There’s a working payphone and a video poker game by the tables in the rear. A faint odor of stale beer floats around.

Sadly, there are just a scant few days left to grab a cheap domestic draft at this sliver of old New York. The Cove will close its doors for good at the end of this month. It’s “going the way of Mars Bar and CBGB,” says bartender Lisa Ramsay.
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