When the Campbell Apartment closed, last year, some worried that another classic New York bar was dead. Once the office of the financier and railroad executive John W. Campbell, the cavernous room hidden in a west ventricle of Grand Central Terminal had multiple uses after his passing, in 1957, but eventually fell into disrepair. In the nineties, Mark Grossich carefully renovated the space, turning it into the Campbell Apartment; its Florentine-style ceiling (repainted by hand), original wooden details, and formal dress code quickly made it a city icon. In 2016, the M.T.A. decided to transfer the lease to the Gerber Group, a hospitality company, which promised to renovate the space and remove the dress code—hence the beloved Campbell Apartment’s closure, and the fear that, when the bar returned, it would be less Lazarus, more zombie. Despite the modified moniker, to the naked eye, things are much the same—even the signs in the Main Concourse still bear the old name. The cocktails remain excellent—likely because Paris DuRante, who worked at the old place for sixteen years, is back making them. On a rainy afternoon, the Bull Shot (nineteen dollars)—a classic drink from the fifties, containing beef broth and vodka—was spectacularly unusual and salty, and a John Campbell’s Martini (twenty-five dollars) was smooth, with sumptuous olives. The prices feel like they’re from the future, but you’re also paying for the luxurious view of the past. Some sights aren’t worth seeing, however—the chicken sandwich (eighteen dollars) is about the size of a pile of eighteen worn dollar bills, and not much more appetizing. At least with the lack of a dress code, it won’t drip onto your good clothes. ♦
