Up In the Old Hotel

by Joseph Mitchell
Category: "Literature/Essays"
Pages:718
Year of Publication:1992
Date Added:08/12/2006
Date Read:03/05/2004
Notes:Journalist Joseph Mitchell, whose death in in May 1996 at the age of 87 merited a half-page obituary in the New York Times, pioneered a style of journalism while crafting brilliant magazine pieces for the New Yorker from the 1930s to the early 1960s. Up in the Old Hotel, a collection of his best reporting, is a 700-page joy to read. Mitchell lovingly chronicled the lives of odd New York characters. The reader passes through places such as McSorley's Old Ale House or the Fulton Fish Market that many observers might have found ordinary. But when experienced through Mitchell's gifted eye, the reader will see that these haunts of old New York possess poetry, beauty, and meaning.

My Rating: 7

Reviews for Up In the Old Hotel

Review - Up In the Old Hotel

Some of my favorite parts of the book:

from The Bottom of the Harbor [N.Y.C.]
“I know where the shallowest spot in the harbor is. I’ve sounded it myself with a boat hook. It’s a spot on Romer Shoal, out in the middle of the lower bay, that’s only four feet deep at low tide.”

“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Zimmer. “I’ve seen it on the charts. It’s called a lump.”

“It’s right on the edge of Ambrose Channel, the channel that the big liners use,” continued Mr. Poole. “I told my mate I want him to take me out there someday when the Queen Mary is due to come upchannel, and leave me standing there with a flag in my hand.”

“What in hell would you do that for?” asked Mr. Zimmer.

“I’d just like to,” said Mr. Poole. “I’d like to wave the flag and make the people on the Queen Mary wonder what I was standing on — shoulder-deep, out there in the middle of the lower bay. I’d wear a top had, and I’d smoke a big cigar. I’d like to see what would happen.”

“I’ll tell you what would happen,” said Mr. Zimmer. “The was from the Queen Mary would drown you. Did you think of that?”

“I thought of it,” said Mr. Poole. “I didn’t do it, did I?”


from Mr. Hunter’s Grave
“Sit down and make yourself at home,” he said. “Let me put the icing on this cake, and then we’ll walk over to the cemetery. Icing or frosting. I never knew which was right. I looked up icing in the dictionary one day, and it said ‘Frosting for a cake.’ So I looked up frosting, and it said ‘Icing for a cake.’ ‘Ha!’ I said, ‘The dictionary man don’t know, either.’”

from Dragger Captain
The Stonington draggers catch twenty million pounds a year for Fulton Market. They go out primarily for flounders and the bring in five species — flukes, blackbacks, yellowtails, witches and windowpanes, all of which differ in looks and flavor and all of which dishonestly appear on menus under the catchall culinary term “fillet of sole”; none of them belong to the sole family. Another species, the Baptist flounder, is caught in abundance but thrown back; it goes bad shortly after it comes out of the water, whence its name.

from Joe Gould’s Secret
Not long ago, looking up something in the unabridged dictionary, I came across a word that sums up the way I was then, and, for that matter, the way I am now — ‘ambisinistrous,’ or left-handed in both hands.
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