Why Neary’s Restaurant Had To Be In My Thriller

Neary’s, a legendary Irish pub — frequented by mayors, politicians, police commissioners, cardinals, writers and other celebrities– made headlines this month when Jimmy Neary, its owner and founder passed away at the age of 91. The restaurant opened on Manhattan’s 57th Street on St.Patrick’s Day in 1967. Almost as well-known as the celebrities who dined at Neary’s, Jimmy was still working at his restaurant until the day he died.

Regular readers of this blog may recognize the name of the restaurant since, entirely coincidentally, it appeared last week in a published excerpt from my new thriller Fool Her Once. The excerpt together with the cover reveal was featured on the Criminal Element website and in its weekly newsletter.

At the very beginning of Chapter Two, investigative reporter, Jenna Sinclair is racing across town to meet her former boss and lover at Neary’s. It used to be their go-to place when they worked — and lived– together. And, it’s just two blocks from Jenna’s Sutton Place apartment “in the shadow of the 59th Street bridge.”

 Mary Higgins Clark, the bestselling author used Neary’s as a location, and Jimmy as a character, in many of her suspense novels. The covers of those titles are enshrined in a glass display cabinet as you enter the restaurant.

But that’s NOT why I chose Neary’s out of all the restaurants in NYC. That happened while I was working on the first draft of the novel in 2016– after I’d met Jimmy’s daughter Una, then Jimmy himself. Thousands of New Yorkers have a Jimmy Neary story, this is mine:

Marital Negotiations

Back in 2015, I was out of work as an attorney for reasons I’ve blogged about before, and my husband was on a mission to get me to retire so we could spend part of the winter in the sun. I eventually agreed provided we joined one of the swanky clubs in the sun so I’d be able to play tennis and golf. No problem– except that the club was so swanky (and pricey) Joe suggested we sell our apartment on 59th Street.

“You don’t need it, you don’t work in the city anymore,” he said. “We’ll never use it again. It’s a waste of money.” I hated the idea of selling because the apartment was just a tiny studio. It cost us virtually nothing, and  heck, who knew when I might need it again ???

Nevertheless, I agreed to put the apartment on the market –and held my breath for the three months of the realty contract. The deadline came and went and we had not received an acceptable offer. I took the apartment off the market super fast.

“See” I said to my husband. “No-one wants it, and we don’t really need to sell it.” My husband bided his time. He didn’t like that I’d taken it off the market, but he sat back and said nothing.

Karma is What?

And, then one day we were at the pool at our swanky club and Joe met a guy. And Joe being Joe, he loves striking up conversations with total strangers. At some point, the guy, Tom, said he and his girlfriend lived in Manhattan, and Joe said, we don’t live in Manhattan but we have an apartment there. It’s at 59th and First, but we’re trying to sell it.

And then Tom said something like, “please come and talk to my girlfriend, Una. She’s looking for a pied a terre in that neighborhood for her father.” And so Joe talked to Una and discovered that her father, then aged 85, owned Neary’s restaurant at 57th and First; that he was at the restaurant every day of the year except Christmas and that he drove back every night to his home in New Jersey.

Una was looking for a small apartment close to his restaurant which he could either retreat to for a break during the day, or stay over on nights when he didn’t want to drive all the way back to New Jersey.

No kidding. Of course, it was a done deal. I had to admit there was something karmic about it. But then Joe, for some reason, always has karma on his side.

Meeting Jimmy

Jimmy came over to the apartment the day before the closing for the walk-through.  A charming, lovely man with a big approving smile: “It’s spotless,” he said. “Spotless.”

And so, our little co-op apartment, which we’d purchased from restaurateurs Christian and Elaine, owners of the upscale Stone Creek Inn in the Hamptons transferred to the owner of an iconic Irish restaurant in NYC.

Cheers, Jimmy. R.I.P.