Walk down East 57th Street today and you'll see a street sign that says "Jimmy Neary Way." It’s a nice gesture. But for the people who spent fifty years tucked into the red leather booths at Neary’s, a green sign on a pole doesn't quite fill the void.
Neary’s restaurant in nyc didn't just close; it took a specific kind of Manhattan history with it. On July 19, 2024, the lights went out for good at 358 East 57th Street. After 57 years of lamb chops, stiff martinis, and a dress code that made you feel like you were actually going somewhere, the Neary family called it a day.
Honestly, it wasn't a shock, but it still hurt. Jimmy Neary, the man who was the soul of the place, passed away in 2021 at the age of 91. His daughter, Una, kept the engines running for three more years, honoring the legacy of a man who moved from Sligo, Ireland, with nothing and ended up owning the building and the hearts of half the city's power brokers.
The Night the Music Stopped at Neary’s
Why did it close? There wasn't some dramatic bankruptcy or a health department scandal. It was just time. The family sold the three-story building to the Martignetti brothers, though the space is now slated to become a new spot called the Derby Club.
Change is the only constant in New York, sure. But Neary’s was supposed to be the exception.
This was the "Irish 21." If you know, you know. It was a place where Michael Bloomberg might be at one table and a local cop at the next. Jimmy treated them exactly the same. Well, as long as they both had a jacket on. He was famously strict about that. You didn't come to Neary’s to look like you just rolled out of bed.
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A Menu That Never Changed (Thankfully)
You didn't go to Neary's for "fusion" or "deconstructed" anything. You went for the lamb chops. People swore by them. They were the house specialty, simple and perfect.
- The Classics: Corned beef and cabbage that tasted like home.
- The Seafood: Fresh calf’s liver (okay, not seafood, but a staple) and broiled scallops.
- The Drink: A martini so cold it could crack a tooth.
The food was the backdrop. The real draw was Jimmy. He never drank a drop of the alcohol he sold, yet he was the best bartender in the five boroughs. He had this way of making you feel like the most important person in the room. He’d remember your name, your kid’s name, and probably what you ordered back in 1984.
Why Neary’s Mattered Beyond the Food
New York is full of Irish pubs. Most of them are interchangeable. Neary’s was different because it was a "canteen for power."
Think about the guest list. The Clintons. Both Presidents Bush. Cardinal Timothy Dolan. The legendary author Mary Higgins Clark actually wrote Jimmy into over 25 of her books. He wasn't just a restaurant owner; he was a character in the narrative of the city itself.
He had two Super Bowl rings. Think about that. He never played a snap, but the Mara family (who own the Giants) loved him so much they made sure he was part of the inner circle. That’s the kind of gravity Neary’s had. It was a neutral ground where deals were made and secrets were kept.
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The Immigrant Dream in a Red Booth
Jimmy’s story is the one we all want to believe in. He came here in 1954. He won his passage money in a poker game—which, if you knew Jimmy, makes perfect sense. He worked as a porter at the New York Athletic Club, then a bartender at Moriarty’s.
By 1967, he opened his own place on St. Patrick’s Day.
He bought the building in 1986. That was the masterstroke. In a city where landlords kill legendary businesses every week with rent hikes, Jimmy owned the bricks and mortar. That’s why it lasted 57 years. It only ended because the family decided the chapter was finished.
What Happens to the Space Now?
The building was sold in 2024. For a minute, people hoped it would stay exactly the same. But the new owners have their own vision. The "Derby Club" is expected to open sometime in 2025 or 2026.
Reports say they’re keeping the floor plan. The bar will be in the same spot. That’s something, I guess. But you can’t buy the atmosphere Jimmy curated. You can’t replicate the 57 years of photos on the wall or the way the light hit the dark wood at 5:00 PM.
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The neighborhood, Sutton Place, feels a little quieter now. For decades, locals treated Neary’s as their second living room. "I'm going to have to take the shoes out of the oven and start cooking," one regular told a reporter on the final night. That about sums it up.
Lessons from the Neary’s Legacy
If you're looking for the "Neary way" in your own life or business, it's pretty simple but incredibly hard to do:
- Show up. Jimmy was there every single day. He greeted every guest.
- Details matter. Keep the brass polished. Keep the dress code firm.
- Be genuine. People don't come back for the steak; they come back for the feeling of being seen.
- Own the building. If you can, own your ground. It’s the only way to survive the whims of the market.
Neary’s restaurant in nyc might be gone, but the impact it had on Manhattan’s social fabric isn't. If you want to see the man in action one last time, look for the documentary "Neary’s: The Dream at the End of the Rainbow." It’s the closest you’ll get to those red leather booths now.
To honor the legacy, find a local, family-owned spot this week. Sit at the bar. Put your phone away. Actually talk to the person next to you. Jimmy would have liked that.