Whenever I pass Keens Steak House, I pause to admire the old building and its many singular details.
The word "Bar" spelled out in tile just outside the bar entrance. (That the restaurant still has a separate bar entrance is in itself a thrilling thing.)
The heavy metal pineapples on either side of the entrance, which once served as, I don't know, maybe boot-scrapers, or door stops.
So, the other day, I was admiring the many old bottles in the picture window to the left of the entrance, when I notice an old, inset doorway to the immediate left of the window. It's warped and slanted with time. There is no handle; it is evidently not used anymore. What was it for, I wonder.
There is a doorbell on the right of the door jam, surrounded by an ornate metal frame. I push it. Nothing happens. No sound. I push it again.
So I go inside to see what part of Keens the door would have led to. But where the door should be on the inside is the ancient coat room. There is a large, folded-up table leaning against the back wall of the coat room, so I can't tell if the door leads exactly into the room. But there seems to be no other option.
Servant's entrance? Escape route for gentleman dodging wives or creditors? Hmmm.