The Corner Bar in Sag Harbor officially shut its doors on Sunday. But before the last-call bell was rung, there was a party.
While outside the temperature was in the single digits and Sag Harbor Bay, covered in white salt ice, crackled, inside the 48-year-old institution was hot and stuffed tighter than a fresh pack of cigarettes.
The three-foot corridor between the bar and the half wall separating it from the dining room, still decorated with Christmas stockings and garland, was impassable.
Songs were sung, led at times by Nancy Atlas, who stood atop the bar. She had waitressed in the restaurant for six years.
Siena Fabiano, who told a patron that her second word was “cornerbar,” passed out lyric sheets to “Amie” by Pure Prairie League (Mike Reilly, from the band, was in attendance) and “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead.
A tall man in a 10-gallon hat approached the bar and bought everyone a shot of their choice. On televisions suspended over the bar, Olympians shed tears of victory while under the screens, locals shed tears of loss.
Tom Fabiano, a former Sag Harbor Village police chief, sat in the corner seat at the bar. When it seemed the place was at capacity, he walked behind the bar and rang the last-call bell to get everyone’s attention before he gave a short speech.
“As we all know, Jim Smyth started this place in 1978,” he said. “And fortunately, all these years he served everyone no matter where you were from, at this bar.” Mr. Smyth died in 2017.
As he spoke, the staff, including Jenny Doud and Joe Weeks, both bartenders and managers, stood off to the side, arms around each other.
“Unfortunately, as time goes on things have changed and we have to look at the future and unfortunately the future is the Corner Bar will be no longer, but we don’t know what the future is going to be here,” said Mr. Fabiano.
While the sale of the Corner Bar is not yet complete (word from one insider is that it could be finalized next week) multiple sources point to Hildreth Real Estate Advisors as the buyer.
Its principal, David Shorenstein, has a house in Sag Harbor.
The owners of the Clam Bar, Kelly and John Piccinnini, are reportedly going to manage the business. However, neither company would comment ahead of the closing.
H.R.E.A. has purchased a number of South Fork properties, including 136 Main in Amagansett, along with the adjoining 11 Indian Wells Highway. The East Hampton Town Planning Board, when reviewing H.R.E.A.’s redevelopment plans for that parcel, said they were “too much” for the historic village.
H.R.E.A. also owns 3 and 11 Madison Street in Sag Harbor and 58 Howard Street. In Montauk, it purchased the old Westlake Marina at 352 West Lake Drive, and the real estate company also owns a few properties in Southampton.
However, the last-call party was more about the past than the future.
“We all came here today not to say goodbye, but to say thank you for what took place at this establishment,” Mr. Fabiano said to loud cheers. “Memories will be forever in this bar. The memories cannot escape this place, and I think they’re all good memories that we have in here.”
Mr. Fabiano got choked up as he made a last toast to his “good friend Jim Smyth and his wife, Margaret,” before he gave the last-call bell one last ring.
Ms. Doud, longtime manager and bartender, called the staff out of the kitchen and when Ms. Atlas shouted, “to the staff of the Corner Bar!” the place roared.
After she was done leading the crowd in song, Ms. Atlas made a heartfelt toast.
“Life can get so confusing and there’s so many ways we can go in this world,” she said. “Sometimes it’s a bag of shit and sometimes it’s so amazing. My favorite memories all come back to this place.” Like Mr. Fabiano, she spoke of Mr. Smyth. “He was the type of person that came along and said, ‘You need an apartment? How much can you pay me?’ He was that person. He didn’t say, ‘Well, I need this much.’ For six years I waitressed in this bar and I became part of a community that will live in me forever. So, when you’re having a shit-bag day, I want you to remember you’re living in one of the most beautiful places in the world, and that the things that matter are right here.”
The community was well represented at the bar. There was the village harbor master, members of the school board, employees from the American Hotel, and members of the Fire Department.
Conversation touched on other recent village departures: Conca D’Oro and the Dockside restaurant. One man spoke of the way the village used to smell when Java Nation brewed its coffee next to the cinema. Glasses clinked.
Many wore black hoodies commemorating the day that read “Corner Bar. Established 1978. Last call.”
The crowd broke into a rendition of Don McLean’s “American Pie.” A bar fixture tossed coasters like frisbees. People hugged. In what could have been some sort of inside joke, shots of creme de menthe were passed. More people hugged.
“You don’t get rid of this,” said a man, knocking on the half wall.
Mr. Weeks opened a bottle of wine and passed it over to a woman. When she asked why, he said, “It’s on chief.”
“You’d come here after every funeral, game. If you didn’t have plans, you went to the Corner Bar and plans were made,” said another man.
“I heard a group of locals wanted to buy it, but kept getting outbid,” said a man at the bar. Another heard neither the name nor sign outside would change.
“Five rich guys from Manhattan are buying it and turning it either into more of a sports bar or some sort of oyster bar,” said another.
It was emotional. It wasn’t just a bar closing its doors, it felt like the end of a time, of a shared space and experience of Sag Harbor that might no longer exist.
“I wonder where the ordinary people will go when this place leaves,” said one man.
No one knew.
