Steve Greenstein

The world is a wonderful and weird place. I guess that's why the story of the journey has been spoken and written about for thousands of years. Odysseus' journey home, Joseph's journey to leadership, Jack Kerouac's Road, all serve as highway reminders: "It's not where you're going, it's how you get there."

Travel becomes story when you take your eyes off the road.

In late November of last year, I decided that the month of December was going to be a travel month. As much as I love home, sometimes you have to go find inspiration outside the four walls of your own city. I bought two plane tickets: one to Denver and one to New York City.

In Denver, I found Larry, of whom I've already written, and in New York I found Steve, of whom I will write about....now.



It was cold. The rain had just begun to fall when all three of us, guided by now native Rob, took shelter in one of the many "open-late" italian dessert shops in Alphabet City. This one was called "De Robertis." As we walked in the shop, there was no question about what they sold. Two refrigerated glass columns stretched the floor for 30 ft on both our left and right, literally stuffed with baked goods. We shuffled past a line of customers and moved into the crowded dinning area. Leathery booths lined the eggshell walls, while florescent lighting buzzed and flickered above our wet heads. Framed photos hung heavily on the walls, weighed down by years of balancing on a single hook and a thickening layer of dust on top. The place was filled, and a table in the center of the room was the only one available. Seated in front of the table was a man in his forties holding a violin , and next to him, a younger man with a guitar.

Small restaurant musicians by nature exist for sheer environmental reasons; one of the five restaurant stimuli. Food satisfies taste, it's aroma satisfies smell. The decor satisfies sight, while the materials that compose the decor satisfies touch. Then comes hearing. French restaurants have their tuxedo dressed violinist; mexican restaurant have their mariachi bands; and most ever restaurant has the circular poor quality tile ceiling stereo with whatever Enya, Celine Dion, or 97.5 FM Easy Listening compilation you desire.

However, it was clear after the very first chorus of "Blowin in the Wind" that Steve (the violinist) and Peter (the guitarist) were not your average restaurant musicians. They were not there to add to the environment. They were there to create experience. Between stanzas, Steve peppered their performance with cries to the crowd like, "Everybody sing!", or "One Last Time!" And everyone did sing, and we alway sang one last time.

Here's a clip of their rousing cover of "Yellow Submarine", by the Beatles: CLICK HERE.

The singing continued for about 45 minutes. After which, I decided I wanted to take a portrait of Steve and Peter.



When Steve saw me approaching, he asked, "Where you guys from?" When we told him Alabama he lit up and said "I was in a movie once in Alabama." He went through his pockets in a burst and took out a card which read: Steve Greenstein - Musician, Actor. He went on to explain, "It was called 'The Bear', and it was about Couch Bear Bryant. I played Joe Namath and even got on the poster."



*note: he's the one to which Bear Bryant says, "If you won't be beaten, you can't be beaten."

We continued to talk for about 10 more minutes. I asked if I could take their portrait. Steve gave me a nod and a, "Sure", and began cradling his violin (which I thought was pretty corny, but kind of priceless). I took about four frames and then we parted ways.

A month later, Rob sent me a text message that read, "At De Robertis, the dessert shop. The same musicians are here and I am the only non Italian."



Peace. - Caleb