20 May 2007

Wooden Phone Booth Sighting: Sam's

They don't work, but they're there.

These wooden phone booths are in Sam's, the old time pizzeria on Court Street near Kane. It's one of the last holdouts of the old Italian neighborhood. The pizza's pretty good, the service a bit huffy and eccentric. There are red leather booths and you can get a Rob Roy.

As far as I known, these are the only extant wooden phone booths left in Cobble Hill/Carroll Gardens. Please let me know if I'm missing any.

Past articles:
Wooden Phone Booth Sighting: Chumley's


The KnickerBlogger said...

Well not even Brooklyn but the Art Students League still has some (working) ones.

giles said...

Well this just isn't the most appropriate place at all... But i don't see any other way. Thought Lost City would enjoy the story stumbled upon at urbablurb.blogspot.com

Brooks of Sheffield said...

Thanks, Giles. I checked out the story. Interesting new blog.

Anonymous said...

I don't understand why people have a problem with the service at Sam's!! I have never encountered this at all. I think it might be a case of "be nice to them and they'll be nice to you" or maybe people need to stop taking themselves so seriously and develop a sense of humor.

Brooks of Sheffield said...

Well, Anonymous, I'm always kind to waiters, and have been since my waitering days back in college. (Although, I might point out that it's not the duty of the customer to be nice to the waiter, but the other way around.) Let me just relate my two most recent experiences at Sam's and you be the judge. One: I went there with a big group of about 14 people for a birthday celebration and when the waiter (who I believe was the owner) learned that some people wanted only salads and most preferred to order sodas and not cocktails, he thereafter treated us with unmissable rudeness, when he waited on our table at all. Two: my wife and I went in for a pizza, specifying a margarita pizza without cheese, since my wife was at the time lactose intolerant. The man came back with a pizza smothered in cheese. We pointed out that we had asked for no cheese. He shrugged and walked away, leaving the pizza on the table. So—was I not nice enough to him?