In New York, an old haunt is always closing. It’s a fixture of the news cycle, like the decaying subway system. Word gets out that a business is on the skids, regulars grapple with the loss, reporters note rising rents and everyone moves on.
Recently, a great little jazz club in Greenwich Village closed its doors.The Cornelia Street Café was a popular neighbourhood restaurant for more than 40 years, but I never ate there. Instead, I’d head down to the small, dark basement, which hosted two or three shows a night, and find a candlelit table near the stage. The cover charge was $10, less than a movie ticket, so I could afford to take chances on musicians I’d never heard before: a bebop saxophonist, young vibraphonist or Syrian clarinettist.…