20 June—It’s not generally known that way back in the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries New York City was home to some 100 breweries, roughly twice the number that made Milwaukee famous, making New York the brewing capital of the United States in the good old days. Work at the breweries attracted immigrants from Germany and many of them settled in the Yorkville neighborhood of Manhattan’s Upper East Side that naturally came to be known as Germantown.

(Apropos nothing, although Yorkville wasn’t by any means exclusively German, the German American Bund was headquartered there in the 1930s.)

Yorkville remained pretty much a proletarian enclave within the ultra-fashionable Upper East Side until the notorious Third Avenue El (an elevated subway line, so to speak, that no one remembers fondly) was taken down in the 1950s, dramatically reducing noise pollution and allowing sunlight through. And that was one of the factors that led to the gentrification and fashionablization of Yorkville.

The Second Avenue El had been demolished in 1942, but that’s irrelevant. Second Avenue is tangentially relevant, however, because it was there, near 88^th Street, that Elaine’s Restaurant flourished for almost a half-century from the early 1960s until namesake proprietress Elaine Kaufman died in 2011.

And Elaine’s is relevant because while the restaurant’s menu wasn’t in any way distinguished, memorable, or, for that matter, particularly savory, it was patronized by glitterati. Celebrities—largely performing and literati glitterati—hung out at Elaine’s to mingle with other celebrities. And the great unwashed and wannabes were allowed in by Elaine to be seen with celebrities and get their autographs.

Among Elaine’s regulars in the 1980s were the likes of Leonard Bernstein and Donald Trump. (Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell wouldn’t show up until the 90s.) Trump would conspicuously be seen with his wives, assorted arm candy, or various VIPs. Bernstein would normally be seated in a booth alone or with someone in the arts—but invariably surrounded by admirers seeking his attention or autograph. Or both.

For whatever reason, Trump had never met Bernstein. In fact, he didn’t even know who Leonard Bernstein was. And of course Bernstein didn’t know who Trump was. Why should he? But Trump was impressed by all Bernstein’s admirers. More to the point, he envied Bernstein’s admirers.

So one day in the mid-80s Trump casually sauntered over to Bernstein’s booth and introduced himself. Of course Trump’s name meant nothing to Bernstein. Why should it have? But, being a mensch, he introduced himself to the clod as Lenny Bernstein. And they exchanged pleasantries.

Finally, Trump, eager to learn the secret of Bernstein’s popularity, asked him what he did.

Modestly and hesitatingly, Bernstein told Trump,“I’m a conductor.”

“Gee, that’s great, Lenny,” Trump condescended to Bernstein. “What railroad do you work for?”