Lately you haven't exactly been eager to spend time in banks.
But ducking into an underground vault to enjoy a Manhattan or two should change all that—The Crocker Club opens Friday.
In the basement of the former Crocker Citizens National Bank building, you'll now find an awe-inspiring labyrinth of rooms and hidden corners that takes you back to another era. (You know, when the market was exciting in a good way.) A seat in the vault is prime real estate, obviously, but you can also sneak into one of the intimate booths where customers once examined the contents of their safe-deposit boxes in privacy. Times change, so you'll be fine examining the contents of your classic Sazerac with whoever's joining you.
The owners make a good argument for stricter regulation of our banks—here the staff is in pinstripes, the ice cubes come perfectly shaped from a Kold-Draft dispenser, and the crystal decanters come from...the managing partner's grandmother. The owners even swear they have their own ghost—the back room is reverently called Ghost Bar—so, really, all bases seem to be covered.
Because when life hands you a recession, you make...a night of it.
But ducking into an underground vault to enjoy a Manhattan or two should change all that—The Crocker Club opens Friday.
In the basement of the former Crocker Citizens National Bank building, you'll now find an awe-inspiring labyrinth of rooms and hidden corners that takes you back to another era. (You know, when the market was exciting in a good way.) A seat in the vault is prime real estate, obviously, but you can also sneak into one of the intimate booths where customers once examined the contents of their safe-deposit boxes in privacy. Times change, so you'll be fine examining the contents of your classic Sazerac with whoever's joining you.
The owners make a good argument for stricter regulation of our banks—here the staff is in pinstripes, the ice cubes come perfectly shaped from a Kold-Draft dispenser, and the crystal decanters come from...the managing partner's grandmother. The owners even swear they have their own ghost—the back room is reverently called Ghost Bar—so, really, all bases seem to be covered.
Because when life hands you a recession, you make...a night of it.
