Shuttered Littlest Bar

I do because it was something unique, something that made that little corner of Downtown Crossing special. The Littlest was a tiny little step-down bar, a fixture of the area for 60 years, a grand cross-section of citizens and regulars and friends who'd been brought in from out of town just to have a pint at The Littlest.

Nobody brings friends from out of town to visit Yet Another Condo Highrise.

The bar wood was worn to a smooth finish; so was the shelf along the back wall that served as a table. You learned real bar etiquette at the Littlest, with precious little elbow room. The gentlemen always let a lady sit at the bar; bumps and jostling were expected but always pardoned if the jostler asked for one.

It was a tiny room, no bigger than your kitchen, probably, but there you could always find some of Downtown Crossing's most colorful characters. I met a former prizefighter there once. I met an aging hippie who asked me "Are you from Ireland, too? Everybody here's from Ireland today." (She was from Beverly.)

One recent visit as I stood at the bar, a group of college-aged girls cautiously stepped in. They were on a photo scavenger hunt, and needed pictures of themselves in as many bars with as many foreign beers as possible. They raised someone else's glass of Guinness, took their picture, and scampered off giggling. "Did they take a sip of your beer?" the bartender asked. "Nah, they just wanted a picture." A shrug, and a grin. Kids these days.

Just another bar closing. I'm sure the empty condo units in this housing glut will inspire as many memories and stories as 60 years' worth of The Littlest Bar.

I don't understand your comment. At all.