The East Village has changed a lot through the decades, but since 1987 New Yorkers could always count on a frosty pint and a pleasant chat courtesy of Ludwika “Lucy” Mickevicius — the doyenne of the Alphabet City dive bar scene and longtime owner of Lucy’s on Avenue A.
But the iconic night spot is in danger of closing its doors forever after nearly 40 years of slinging suds to locals and world-famous musicians alike.
The mixed-use building that houses Lucy’s was purchased in December for $19.1 million, and the new owner is more than tripling the rent for the storied neighborhood watering hole to $25,000 a month.
Unable to afford the new sky-high payments, Mickevicius closed up shop about three months ago, and is now facing eviction next month.
She’s paid up through the end of February, but was candid about the bar’s uncertain future in an interview with The Post.
“I think best would be if somebody takes it, because I can’t make that high rent,” Mickevicius said plainly, without a trace of bitterness in her demeanor as she spoke of the prospect of losing her beloved tavern.
Even with the bar in dire jeopardy, the 81-year-old remained philosophical about the situation.
“Life is like that, you know?” she said, her kind face registering a resigned smile. “I never make plans. I just think maybe yes, maybe no. Never for sure.”
As she spoke, light streamed through the open door at Lucy’s, its windows’ purple curtains drawn and backlit by the Miller Genuine Draft lampshade suspended above one of the establishment’s pool tables, long a popular draw for patrons.
Pulling up a barstool and uncorking a bottle of scotch, Mickevicius shared some of the highs and lows of Lucy’s historic run as a fixture of Alphabet City nightlife.
Mickevicius’ own story starts behind the Iron Curtain in her native Warsaw, Poland, which she left for New York in the 1970s at a time when, she recalled, “nothing was on the shelves” of local shops.
She immigrated to Long Island, where she had some extended family, but the pull of Big City life proved too strong to ignore. She soon relocated to Orchard Street on the Lower East Side, where rents were cheaper and which was home to a large Polish and Ukrainian community.
It was there that Mickevicius began her epic run behind the bar, starting out working at another establishment on First Avenue and 1st Street.
Then one fateful day the owner of Lucy’s (called Blanche’s Tavern at the time) stopped by the bar and, speaking in Polish, offered Mickevicius a job there instead.
The rest was history. Over time under Mickevicius’ stewardship, the humble beer joint became Lucy’s, which grew into a cherished neighborhood mainstay. As a nod to its beginnings, a small wooden placard reading “Blanche’s Tavern” still hangs by the old-fashioned cash register.
In the decades since Mickevicius assumed the helm, the hole-in-the-wall became a haven for East Village residents — and the occasional music legend.
She recalls world-famous clientele like U2 and The Rolling Stones popping into Lucy’s for a pint over the years, along with a bevy of actors, politicians and other familiar faces, “so many, so many,” Mickevicius said.
But to Mickevicius, every patron got the same treatment, which included an occasional shot of Polish vodka on the house.
“People would ask, ‘who here was famous?'” she smiled to herself.
“But you know, for me, people are the same.”
Inevitably, not all of Mickevicius’ memories were cheerful ones.
She also recalled one dicey situation where she protected a customer from skinheads, who proceeded to smash bottles against the bar.
But over the decades, even those moments have lost some of their edge, she reflected over her glass of scotch.
“People are lovely — even bad people,” she said with a crinkle-eyed grin.
Mickevicius has family in New York City — a daughter and granddaughter uptown — as well as a son back in Poland. But the irrepressible octogenarian, who lives in the neighborhood, says she wants to keep working behind the bar.
The “hello-hello” from community members, she says, invigorates her.
“I’d like to stay here forever, because I love these people,” she beams.
“This bar keeps me alive.”
With a new Starbucks on the corner, the East Village today is barely clinging to its bohemian roots. But another longtime neighborhood establishment, Ray’s Candy Shop, has been serving up egg creams to generations of New Yorkers.
The shop’s owner, Ray Alvarez, spoke effusively of his neighbor.
“I’ve known her for 50 years,” he chuckled, sporting a “New York Old Soul” baseball cap.
“I love her, she’s beautiful. Her daughter worked for me when she was 16.”
At one point, Robert Ross, a Lucy’s regular since 1997, poked his head inside the bar to offer words of encouragement.
“Lucy’s is an institution. It has always looked like this — it never really changed,” he said, gesturing to the décor.
“Two of the best pool tables in The Village,” he declared.
Ross shared some of his own stories of nights spent wetting his whistle at Lucy’s over the years, including one memorable occasion where he got more than he bargained for from the diminutive barkeep.
“Lucy threw me out once — by my ear. She took me out like that,” he told The Post, hiking up his ear cartilage in demonstration.
“I’m 6-foot-4, she took me literally by my ear,” he recalled of the humbling incident.
“Some guy sucker-punched me, that’s how the fight started. But she made me wait outside. Class act.”
Asked about Lucy’s seemingly imminent closure, Ross said it would be “a real loss” to the neighborhood.
“There are only a couple of these kinds of bars left — there used to be dozens,” he lamented.
Like many businesses in Gotham during the pandemic, Lucy’s has fallen on hard times in recent years.
It was closed for more than two months at the height of the crisis, and when it reopened in May, 2020, Mickevicius found herself owing her landlord $50,000 in back rent and utilities.
Since then, the business has faced additional hurdles, including a lack of staff and a diminishing supply of top-shelf liquor for the bar’s more discerning imbibers.
Leading up to its more recent closure three months ago, Lucy’s didn’t even have a bartender or any other workers on its payroll, Mickevicius said.
Mickevicius says the ideal scenario for her would be to find an investor to partner up with and take on a reduced role, which could offer a lifeline to the East Village institution.
However, if the investor plan doesn’t work out, Mickevicius said she’d most likely sell Lucy’s and retire.
Lucy’s lease expired in May, 2015, and was on a month-to-month arrangement with the previous landlord, local blog EV Grieve reported. But the new landlord apparently has little interest in continuing the agreement, and intends on evicting Lucy’s at the end of the month.
Property records show the building was purchased by West Lake 135-139 Avenue A LLC on behalf of real estate heir James Ryan III, who runs property investment firm RYCO Capital, according to Hell Gate.
The blog asked Ryan why he was evicting Lucy’s, to which he responded, “they don’t have a lease.”
When asked what he would say to those who are upset about losing the East Village institution, Ryan said “everyone’s entitled to their own opinion” and hung up the phone.