Owners Say Survival Rests with Dancing

 by Carl Glassman

Microphone in hand and eyes glued to the Korean words flashing on a large screen, Danny Song stood alone in the dim emptiness of Nikki and Sam, a spacious Italian restaurant at 83 Worth St.

Cook and bartender Danny Song sings karaoke at Nikki and Sam, a restaurant on Worth Street. Photo: Carl Glassman

Song was both bartender and chef that evening last month, but he had plenty of time for karaoke. There were no dinner customers, and the only person at the bar, Carlos Enrique, was there not to drink but to try to land a job as manager-and savior-of the business.

"They have to do something because they're going to lose this place," Enrique said as he flipped through the karaoke play list.

The new owners, Joann and Howard Lee, agree. And they say dancing is part of the answer. "We can't make it without it," Howard Lee said. After the holidays even promoters will shy away from the place, he said.

There was plenty of dancing on weekends when the place was Tony's, an instution on the block for 47 years.

The Lees bought the restaurant in October but cabaret licenses, which make dancing legal, don't transfer with
the sale. So earlier in the month Howard Lee appeared before Community Board 1's Tribeca Licensing Task Force in hopes of winning its important advisory approval for a new license.

The reception was chilly, in part because some board members argued that the surrounding area is growing increasingly residential, and in part because Igor Alexeev was there.

"It's very loud music," said Alexeev, whose bedroom at 79 Worth St. has an adjoining wall with the restaurant. "It's impossible to sleep." Alexeev said he has called 311 and the 1st Precinct about the problem, and sees no end in sight.

"Basically they are empty during the week," he said. "There's no meaningful revenue from the restaurant so they are trying to organize parties."

The board voted to recommend denial of the license.

When a reporter stopped by the restaurant on the last Saturday night of November, the ropes were out, a bouncer stood at the door, and dance music filled the room.

Joann Lee, a Korean immigrant whose English is limited, seemed confused and distraught by the community board's actions. "I'm getting nervous now, it's making me sick," she said, standing at the entrance, her arms folded against the cold. "I want to have everything legal, you know."
Joann and Howard Lee in their restaurant, named for their daughters. Photo: Carl Glassman
Inside, she showed the visitor speakers suspended close to the ceiling. It was easy to see how the bass from one of them could reverberate next door. "I'll take them down, I'll put them on the floor," she quickly offered.

Meanwhile, the evening's partyers had yet to arrive. "This place is going to be empty tonight," said the bouncer, Corey Wilkins. "Last week there were 10 people in the place."

The bouncer, a 15-year veteran of club security, shook his head.

"They aren't going to come if they can't dance," he said.