Last Call at Bed-Vyne & Brew

Abe Beam describes this New York haunt with real fondness—a truly genuine homage. But it is also a eulogy. After too many run-ins with city bureaucracy, the Ben-Vyne & Brew bar has shut its doors for the last time. Take a last walk through the doors with Beam, and remember “the kind of bar you move to New York City to hang out at.”

I was instantly reminded of why Bed-Vyne is so special. With all due respect to its menu and design, it is the diversity, the authentic expression of its neighborhood that it attracts. There were beautiful Indian women in halter tops with bubble ponies, Spanish dudes in Premier League jerseys, and heavily tattooed white guys. But the evening I was there was a reflection of what Bed-Vyne has always been, like its owners and staff and customers: it’s a predominantly Black space. “Our bar is an inclusive place, so no matter what your background is you can come here and have a drink and be comfortable. Everyone talks to each other,” Brooks said, and that was true the night I was hanging out. It was breathable inside—with bartenders working at their own pace but no one waiting too long—and crowded on the patio, as it often is. As M.O.P. and Kendrick Lamar and, of course, Life After Death and loud, drunken, laughter-filled debates about Nikola Jokic’s defensive acumen carried on the air, mingling with the scent of grilling chicken thighs on what felt like the first day of Summer, I felt like I often do when I’m at Bed-Vyne: that I was lucky to be there, and lucky to have spent the majority of my life in Brooklyn.