Drink 46: The Day The Clown Cried

The Name: The Day The Clown Cried                                                                                

The Bar: Fig. 19 (131½ Chrystie St., NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: If you've never heard of The Day The Clown Cried, then you are in for a treat. It's a title of a movie, and it's a movie that I and many others are obsessed, despite the fact that almost no one has ever seen it. Let me explain.

In 1972, actor, director, and comedian Jerry Lewis was already firmly established and beloved by many for his broad physical comedy. But, Lewis was feeling a bit unsatisfied as an artist. Sure, people loved his comedy, but he wanted to prove he was a serious actor too. And so he set out writing, directing, and starring in a movie called The Day The Clown Cried. It was going to be his foray into the world of drama. Like Steve Carell in Foxcatcher, but if Steve Carell's performance had been horribly, horribly offensive.

How bad could it be, you ask? Let me just briefly summarize the plot. The Day The Clown Cried is about a German circus clown named Helmut Doork. After learning he is going to be fired from his job, he is thrown into a concentration camp for being a political prisoner after drunkenly mocking Hitler in a bar. It only gets worse from here, folks, so, buckle your seatbelts. Doork tries to entertain the rest of the prisoners, but it turns out he's a really bad clown so they all hate him. Although, to be fair, prisoners in a concentration camp are probably going to be a tough audience. But even though the other prisoners hate him, a group of Jewish children at the other side of the camp actually seem to like Doork's routine. Doork continues to perform for them, not because he's trying to cheer them up, but because they're the only people who actually think he's funny. The Nazi guards, seeing that the Jewish kids like him, enlist Doork to help them. Doork is assigned to help load the kids onto a bus, and then off the bus and into the gas chamber where they will be killed. I told you to buckle your seatbelts. The film ends with Doork deciding to go into the gas chamber with them since they're the only people who think he's funny. As he and the children are killed, he begins to cry. And that's why it's The Day The Clown Cried.

I shouldn't have to explain why this is atrocious. this is such a terrible idea, and the fact that Jerry Lewis put so much time and money into this film is mind-boggling. Again, he wrote, directed, and starred in this and genuinely thought it would be a potential Oscar-winner. Fortunately (or unfortunately) he had a change of heart. After he finished putting the film together, he watched it all the way through. Apparently, it suddenly dawned on him that this was a complete disaster and if it was ever released, he would be absolutely ruined. Because the premise of this film really is one of the worst things I've ever heard. Knowing this, Lewis has gone through great pains to ensure that the film never sees the light of day.

Jerry Lewis, filming The Day The Clown Cried

But word travels fast, and The Day The Clown Cried has become a thing of legend. Think about the cult following of The Room, but through in a movie that just might be worse, and add in the mystery factor. It's essentially the Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster of the cinematic world. And, just like with those mythical beasts, little glimpses of the film have been released. Every so often, a new piece of footage is released. And a full screenplay was released at one point. Before he became famous, comedian Patton Oswalt actually brought together a group of his friends to hold regular readings of the scripts aloud. But, and this is how seriously Jerry Lewis takes this, Oswalt had to stop because Lewis sent lawyers after Oswalt with a cease and desist order. Honestly, it's Lewis' reactions to the whole thing that make this such a thing of legend. There are unfinished films all over the place, but none that have been so disavowed by its creator.

If you're as fascinated by this movie as I am (I've always been a lover of really bad art), I encourage you to do more research on the film on your own because it really is extraordinary. For now, I'll just leave you with this quote from comedian Harry Shearer, who has somehow seen a rough-cut of the movie. Of The Day The Clown Cried, he said:

With most of these kinds of things, you find that the anticipation, or the concept, is better than the thing itself. But seeing this film was really awe-inspiring, in that you are rarely in the presence of a perfect object. This was a perfect object. This movie is so drastically wrong, its pathos and its comedy are so wildly misplaced, that you could not, in your fantasy of what it might be like, improve on what it really is. "Oh My God!"—that's all you can say.

I hoped that any drink I ordered with this name might live up to the same awe-inspiring nature.

Also, it's worth noting that Lewis recently softened his strict declarations that the film would never be seen. Supposedly, he said he'd consider letting the film be released, but only ten years after his death. Hey, it's better than nothing.

Ordering The Drink: In my last post, I talked about ordering The Christopher Walken Duck Joke with my friend Pat. We had enjoyed drinking at The Ship very much, but decided that the night was still young and we wanted to head elsewhere. After wandering around aimlessly for a bit looking for a bar, we decided to not just leave things to chance and researched places in the area. Pat found out about a place called Fig. 19, and while neither of us had heard of it, we decided to give it a try based on positive online reviews.

It turns out we maybe should have done more research because we had a hard time finding it. Fig. 19 is a hidden bar behind the wall of an art gallery. You never would have known it was there if you were just passing by, which is of course the point of a hidden bar.

Pat, looking for the door that is literally right behind him.

Once we finally found the door to the bar, we entered and knew we'd come to a great place. It truly feels like a secret--completely isolated from the world. I even love that the building number is 131½! More importantly, the cocktails are really great. The menu sounded fascinating, and the two drinks that Pat and I ordered to start were phenomenal. Pat's drink was called The Red Leaf, a stunning drink made from whiskey, vermouth, sherry, absinthe, and--most intriguingly--red wine reduction. I don't think I've ever had a drink so alcoholic that's also so smooth. And, as someone who loves absinthe, this might have been one of the best absinthe cocktails I've ever had--it snuck in at the end as a deliciously licorice aftertaste. It got better and better with every sip. I, meanwhile, got a drink called The Vanishing Point, a scrumptious dessert cocktail with a base of vanilla bean and cinnamon infused gin, which tasted like a more autumnal and sophisticated version of eggnog. Upon tasting it, Pat claimed it might just be one of the top ten cocktails he'd ever tasted. The cocktails were so good, we essentially shared both drinks because we were unable to stick to one.

It was clear that our bartender was a skilled mixologist, and she was also very friendly, so I was sure she'd go along with the weird drink idea. She was certainly amused by the request for The Day The Clown Cried, and set about putting the drink together. Meanwhile, Pat got a second Red Leaf because it was so good that he couldn't even be tempted by the other intriguing options on the menu.

 

The Drink:

Rye (or, to quote the bartender, a LOT of rye)

Aperol

Amaro

Lemon Juice

Maraschino Cherries

Orange Peel 

Assessment of Drink: This was fantastic. We already knew from The Red Leaf that our bartender was skilled at making a strong drink that still tasted balanced, and she proved it yet again. She explained that this was her twist on a cocktail called a Paper Plane. The only difference (aside from the creative garnish) was that she swapped the traditional bourbon out for rye, and added a lot more of the rye than you ordinarily would get, and which I certainly appreciated. The use of rye ended up being a really smart choice. Rye tends to be a little spicier and have a bit more of a bite to it than regular whiskeys, which made the drink decidedly sharper than it would have been with bourbon. Pat told me that he usually wasn't a big fan of rye, but agreed with me that it was the perfect choice here, and I appreciated that it was really brought to the forefront.

Does It Live Up To The Name: Our bartender explained that her intention was to make a drink that was both whimsical and sorrowful to try and fit the name, and she got that here. The aperol is sweet, and the amaro is bitter (amaro literally means "bitter"), so the interplay between them really creates an intriguing balance. You can see the fun of the clown, and also the bitterness of the tears. This drink represented the bartender's intentions beautifully.

And then, there was that garnish. As soon as our bartender put the drink down, I said, "Are the cherries the clown nose?" and her face lit up. "You got it!" she said. Of course, I was kind of cheating, since this was also done on a previous clown-themed drink I've ordered. Although this time, they were the really great high-quality cherries, which are always a treat. I also like that she put a cherry on each side of the orange peel. If the peel represents the clown's mouth as it did in my mind, I was imagining that depending on which cherry was the nose, this clown was smiling or frowning. Does that make sense? Whatever, it made sense to me.

All in all, I could see a clown ordering this on a particularly sad day. And I know that should The Day The Clown Cried ever get a release, I will definitely order a Paper Plane, but with a double rye instead of bourbon.

Drink 4: My Only Jacket

The Name:  My Only Jacket

The Bar: Bar44 at the Royalton Hotel (44 West 44^th St. New York, NY)

The Story Behind The Name: I used to work at a studio rental space near Penn Station as a receptionist and general office assistant. My official title was “Client Services” which sounds more impressive on a resume. As one would imagine, I had to deal with a lot of people, and while most were perfectly lovely, some made the job especially difficult. This story involves two renters who fit into the latter group. These two renters are two incredibly wealthy theater producers named Jack and Bruce who were holding auditions for an upcoming show. They had not used the space before, but their reputation preceded them. A casting director who regularly used our space had seen that they were there and had stuck her head into the office to say that she was so sorry we’d have to deal with them. When the producers arrived to start their reservation, they seemed a bit officious but not too bad.

About an hour into their reservation, Jack left the audition room and entered the office. He was holding one of the red metal folding chairs we used in the rooms, and had an expensive-looking blazer draped over his shoulder. I was the only person in the office at this point, and Jack wordlessly placed the chair on the floor and opened it. He pointed at the chair and asked me to “inspect the chair.” The chair looked fine to me—it wasn’t exactly pristine, but it was fine for a cheap metal folding chair. When I asked what I was supposed to be looking for, Jack looked almost offended and pointed to a tiny corner of the back of the chair which had started to come up. It was hardly noticeable and, even after pointing it out, I didn’t really see how it could ever be a problem. When I asked if it was uncomfortable to sit in, he raised his voice and said “It. Did. THIS!” With a dramatic flourish, he flipped the jacket from over his shoulder so that the damage to the jacket could be on full display. Now, to give credit where credit is due, the damage here was not imagined. It looked as if his jacket had been put in a cage with a wild animal. Really, it was ripped to shreds. Jack insisted that our chair was responsible. I honestly cannot see how the tiny corner of metal could have possibly done this—I sat in the chair and purposefully tried to snag my own clothes on it to simulate the effect and was unable to. But I believe that Jack believed the chair had done this.

Jack and I then had, more or less, the following conversation:

ME: I’m very sorry about your jacket.

JACK: I don’t care that you’re sorry. I want to know what you’re going to do about it.

ME: I personally can’t do anything, but I will bring it to the attention of the executive director when he arrives for the day.

JACK: Well what’s he going to do about it?

ME: I couldn’t tell you. But I will show him the chair and the jacket and explain the whole situation.

JACK: Well something needs to be done.

ME: And I’m sure it will be, but I have no authority to do anything. The only person who can make any decision is the executive director and he hasn’t arrived yet.

JACK: Because something needs to be done.

ME: And, again, I’m sure it will be. But I personally cannot do anything else for you except say that I’m sorry, and I will let you know what our executive director chooses to do.

After a bit more explaining to Jack that I was completely powerless here, he finally left to go back to the auditions, leaving the jacket and the chair in the office. As he left, he looked back at me and said “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t mind so much. But…it’s my only jacket.”

Jack went back into the room where auditions were being held. About five minutes later, Bruce—Jack’s producing partner—emerged from the room. From the same room that Jack had just been in after talking to me. That’s important to note, because it makes the following conversation much stranger.

BRUCE: Hi. Has Jack spoken to you about his jacket?
ME: Yes. I just spoke to him.

BRUCE: His jacket was ripped to shreds.

ME: I know. See? I have the jacket right here.

BRUCE: Well, your chair did it.

ME: Yes, and I’m very sorry about his jacket.

BRUCE: Well something needs to be done.

ME: Yes. I know. I…I just spoke to Jack about all of this.

BRUCE: Fine, but I want to know what you’re going to do about it.

ME: As I told Jack, I personally can’t do anything, but I will bring it to the attention of the executive director when he arrives for the day.

BRUCE: Well what’s he going to do about it?

ME: I couldn’t tell you. But I will show him the chair and the jacket and explain the whole situation.

BRUCE: Well something needs to be done.

ME: And I’m sure it will be, but I have no authority to do anything. The only person who can make any decision is the executive director and he hasn’t arrived yet.

BRUCE: Because something needs to be done.

ME: Well, as I explained to Jack…

This continued in much the same way. Finally, Bruce understood that not only was I powerless, but that I had already explained literally the exact same thing to Jack already. As if these conversations were not yet eerily similar enough, as Bruce was leaving to go back to the room, he looked back at me and said “And, the thing is, it’s his only jacket.”

When my boss arrived, I explained everything. And despite also not believing that the chair could have possibly been responsible for the disrepair into which the jacket had fallen, my boss wanted to avoid a conflict. So he said that I could offer Jack two things: either he could repair the jacket or buy a replacement jacket. Should he do either of these, he could then bring in a receipt for either the cost of the repair, or for the new jacket, and my boss was willing to reimburse him in full. I thought it was very generous, and was relieved that I wouldn’t have bad news to give to the jacketless producer.

A little bit later, Jack came back into the office and I explained to him my boss’ offer.

ME: So, the executive director has given me two options. You can choose to get the jacket replaced and he would…

JACK: Absolutely not! I can’t get this replaced!

ME: Okay, then…

JACK: That’s not good enough.

ME: Okay, then you will probably go with the second option. The executive director said you can buy a new replacement jacket and bring in a receipt and he will take care of it.

JACK: Well, what does that mean?!

ME: It means he’ll cover the full cost of the jacket.

JACK: As he should!

ME: Yes. And he will.

JACK: And the chair?
ME: We’ll throw out the chair.

Now, you’re going to read the next thing he said and you will think that I am making it up. But I swear to you he actually said this. Unironically, I might add.

JACK: And the chair?
ME: We’ll throw out the chair.

JACK: I want it burned.

ME: …

JACK: [stares pointedly]

ME: We’re not going to burn the chair.

Jack eventually left and seemed happy with the arrangement, lack of chair-burning aside. He returned to the audition room.

Once again, a few minutes after Jack had left, Bruce emerged from the room and came into the office. Once again, he emerged from the room that Jack had just gone into. And, once again, I proceeded to have the same exact conversation that I had just had with the other producer.  

BRUCE: Have you spoken to the executive director?
ME: Yes. And I just explained everything to Jack and he seems happy with it.

BRUCE: Because something needs to be done.

ME: Yes. And it will be. And I already explained it to Jack.

BRUCE: Something needs to be done.

ME: Yes. Jack is going to buy a replacement jacket and bring in a receipt and the executive director will cover the cost.

BRUCE: Well, what does that mean?!

ME: It means…he’ll cover the cost.

BRUCE: Jack shouldn’t have to pay for the jacket.

ME: He won’t. He’s going to buy the jacket and Paul will reimburse him.

BRUCE: As he should!
ME: And he will.

BRUCE: Okay. And the chair?
ME: We’ll throw out the chair.

Bruce was silent for a bit. I waited. It was one of the most tense moments of my life. Because I felt positive that Bruce would say “I want it burned.” I wanted him to say it. Because if he did say "I want it burned," then I would finally know that this whole thing was a prank. I would know that they must have planned this just to mess with me for some reason. That would be the definitive proof that I needed. But, instead of requesting the chair be burned, Bruce just said “okay,” and left.

The whole ordeal was such a strange event (and there are a few details to it which I’ve left out in the interest of brevity) and I knew I wanted to have a drink name to commemorate this. It was a lengthy ordeal with multiple parts, but I settled on the name “My Only Jacket” to represent the story. Obviously, this doesn’t come close to encapsulating everything that transpired, but I liked the name. It sounds like an actual custom cocktail one might see on a menu, and I have always thought that the line “it’s my only jacket” is one of the strangest lines of the whole story. What does it even mean? This guy has more money than he knows what to do with—how on earth does he not own more than one jacket? I’m pretty sure he was lying. He must have more than one jacket. He just has to.

Also, while I had said that I wanted to maintain some level of anonymity, I think I have to share Jack’s last name, because it really adds a whole other level of strangeness to this. His last name is Batman.

"Damn! That was my only cape!"

Ordering The Drink: After a day of work which felt especially long and difficult (despite the absence of disagreeable producers), I really needed a drink, and headed to the nearby Royalton Hotel, which I had heard had some of the best cocktails in midtown. A swanky and tasteful hotel, the décor was rather lovely, with fun and unusual light fixtures. Great atmosphere. I sat down and was approached by one of the bartenders, who I later found out is named Justin. I explained that I was hoping he could make me a drink based on the name alone— a drink called “My Only Jacket.” Now, I had specifically chosen this drink name for this bar. It was a difficult one, one which I thought might give a lot of bartenders pause. But Justin was ready from the get-go, and showed absolutely no pause.

Justin brainstorms with a fellow bartender.

Justin took this very seriously. At the other end of the bar, he and another bartender were brainstorming, but Justin seemed to have a game plan. I watched him meticulously craft the drink—it was a real project. When he was finished, he approached me and smiled. “You ready?” he asked. When I confirmed that I was, he poured the drink into my glass, garnished with a thick twist of orange peel, and launched into his explanation for the drink (which is coming up below). After he finished his explanation, he grabbed a small straw and dipped it into the drink. He took the straw out and tried his creation. “It’s really good,” he said, and left.

  

The Drink:

Green Chartreuse

Sweet Vermouth

Absinthe

Bulleit Bourbon

“Tiki” Bitters

Cayenne Bitters

Twisted orange peel garnish

Unfortunately, after I took the picture above, my phone decided not to have battery anymore. Which is especially sad, because this drink was rather pretty. It was a honey-brown color, with a slightly golden tint and was garnished with a wonderful corkscrew-shaped orange peel twist. There’s a picture below that doesn’t actually look like what the drink looked like, but it was the closest I could find on google. 

Thanks, google!

You’ll just have to take my word for it that it had this lovely amber color and was very picturesque, with a nice almost roasted aroma.

Justin explained his drink admirably. Apparently, there is a cocktail called the Gentleman’s Jacket, which consists of Gentleman Jack Tennessee Whiskey, Chartreuse, Vermouth, and bitters, and because of its name, Justin had used that drink as his inspiration. But he explained that because the cocktail is My Only Jacket, and he was the one being asked to make it, he made his own version. He replaced the Gentleman Jack with Bulleit Bourbon as it is his whiskey of choice. He also added absinthe-- always a good choice-- and he likes a bit of a kick in his drinks, so he added some spice with his choice of bitters (Tiki bitters are a Bar 44 specialty which have Caribbean influences and, according to Justin, tastes like jerk seasoning).

Assessment of Drink: This drink is absolutely delicious. Justin had clearly made a drink that he would want to drink, and luckily he and I have similar tastes. I drank this one embarrassingly quickly, to be honest. It was delicious enough to sip, but difficult to do so. It was just so good.

This is not the first time I have had a spicy drink in the making of this blog, but here the spice was really an undertone rather an overpowering flavor right at the forefront. The spice here was balanced with a bit of sweetness from the vermouth and chartreuse. The absinthe was a great addition too because it’s rather spicy and sweet, like licorice, and was a nice bridge between the two predominant flavors here. I love absinthe, but know it’s not liked by everybody—and while it was present here, it was really there as an accent, not as a predominant flavor. But the star here was the bourbon—the one that Justin put in to represent himself. I am sure a true whiskey connoisseur who actually knows something about bourbon could explain this better, and could say what made Bulleit such a good choice in this drink, but I imagine that it has a natural spicy bite to it that was just so perfectly complimented by everything else here. Everything in the drink truly heightened the quality of the bourbon and brought it to the forefront.

Another thing I liked about the drink is that it was truly appropriate for the season. Although it has been winter for a little while, it has only recently started to get truly wintery in New York City—and the past few days have been quite brisk. This drink tasted like winter. It was nice and toasty, and the smokiness (presumably from the tiki bitters) made it taste like it had been slightly roasted. It reminded me of something that I would put into eggnog. And that is the greatest compliment I could think to give to any drink.

In short, it is unequivocally the best tasting drink I have had for this blog to date. And while this blog is still new and has not had too many additions (my apologies—I will hopefully be able to update this with more regularity in the coming months) I have a feeling that the My Only Jacket will continue to be one of my favorites from this experiment. It’s a drink I would want to order again. And probably drink embarrassingly quickly again.

Does It Live Up To The Name: Yes, absolutely. As I mentioned earlier, this was what I thought might be one of the more difficult drinks to come up with. But Justin clearly had a plan, and it worked. I’m lucky that he knew about the Gentleman Jacket and had something to work off of. But the fact that he really personalized it with his own favorite flavors, I think, is what made this drink so special. And, of course, fit with the name perfectly.

But I think the drink fit the name for other reasons than the ones Justin mentioned. It was a cozy drink. It felt familiar—it felt comfortable. Something you’d want to drink again. Like the familiarity of an old jacket that you have worn forever. Also, as I mentioned, it felt like a winter drink. The type of weather where one would have to wear a jacket. Or, similarly, it could be because this felt like a drink you should sip in front of a fireplace wearing a smoking jacket. 

I want the chair burned.

Justin really embraced this project, and made a drink that he was clearly proud of. He is also the first bartender to actually ask what this whole thing is about—and to his credit, was patient enough to wait until after I’d already finished the drink, although he was clearly curious. He seemed to have a great time making the drink, and truly made a memorable one. This is the first time I’ve specifically sought out a bar to use for this blog, and it did not disappoint. It’s the kind of drink this blog was made for.