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Tour Tales



While touring with ten ladies recently we came upon a piano on a Harlem sidewalk that was being moved. I started to play a tune and we all jumped into song, laughter and fun! It's moments like this that causes me to feel that what I do is not a job but rather it’s a joy! As with all my clients, I know that you too won't be disappointed! Click on the link and share the moment! No dancing please J Click the link and join the fun in Harlem!


Breaking down visitors’ misconceived notions about New York City, and having fun at the same time always makes a visit here even more special. Last week, I had the pleasure of touring with a group of nine clients from Coca Cola. They were top execs with their wives and children from California. During lunch, one of the ladies suggested that we spend some time in Harlem. They all agreed and off we went, up to 130th Street and 5th Avenue to see Astor Row, a Savannah, Georgia row of townhomes, which are unique in Manhattan. As the stretch limo pulled up they began to freeze! A few of the ladies did not want to leave the limo! When they saw the locals, black young men and boys with their pants worn below waist level, black do wraps binding their hair, they became visibly nervous. 

"Look, I'll get out first and watch how I walk" I told them and then I proceeded to do the "Hip Hop Roll", the hip hop walk with my fingers snapping. Opening the car door, I viewed the entire group laughing hysterically!" Yo, come on, get out of the car!" After they emerged, I lined them up on the broad sidewalk and instructed them, as though they were in dance class."At the count of three, 'One, Two Three' you start with your left foot, snap your fingers with each left foot step, loosen your legs, move together in rhythm. "Voila! A total of ten whites, Hip Hop rolling up Fifth Ave in Harlem!
The locals were bursting with laughter!"Dat's great bro!" "Have a Jesus day!" Their laughter and smiles were an embrace. We not only had a blast but their notions about Harlemites had melted away, and they returned to California with a “Genuine New York Experience”. Surely a day we'll never forget!   


While relaxing in the back of a stretch limousine with the CD of Mama Mia, the Broadway hit - the show they had seen the previous evening - providing background music, I had asked my guests, three couples from Malta, if they knew what was the most frequently listened to song performed in the English language. With my less than perfect ability to carry a melody I began singing:
"You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you, you'd be like heaven to touch", etc..
Suddenly, they joined in and together we burst into song, spontaneously with ever-rising volume:


With hand clapping, smiles and laughter we ventured across the Brooklyn Bridge, and their tour became even more energized and enthralling. Unexpected, instantaneous joy and fun makes a tour a wonderful and most memorable experience. Frankie Valle would have been flattered, but I'm sure that we're not a threat to the singers of the Broadway super hit show, Jersey Boys!


Responding to a request for a tour, I greeted my clients: a French businessman and his fifteen-year-old son at a midtown hotel. 

"Where would you like to go? What are your areas of interest?" I had inquired.
"Sure, let's do it.” and off we went. There's terrific graffiti, the height of visual and visceral expression that had evolved in the depths of New York's economic and crime-riddled society of the 1970's. An underclass of deprived youth of the city claimed the public domain as their canvas upon which to express and release their artistic energy. This young man had passion and verve, capturing images that had inspired him, much as Monet and Seurat had over a century ago. Was I participating in a new wave of impressionistic or surrealistic art? We ventured into Harlem, Alphabet City and the South Bronx. While edging deeper and deeper into the South Bronx, the haunt of Jimmy Carter's Charlotte Street public relations escapade to expose the depths of urban decay. We sighted some ruins, evidence that art lives in the ghetto. On Boston Road, where most New Yorkers wouldn't dare go, a building wall, over 150 feet long, adorned with a spectacular spread of talent and expressive graffiti was barely in view. I ventured about and found an old wooden soda box, stood upon it, up ended, and we each took turns clicking our cameras, capturing images of a work of art! The unnamed artist(s) had expressed their passionate palate extending their experience, their life in an urban landscape, void of museums, government sponsored art or private enrichment of visual treasures. The creation is a howl, a cry of the expressive aptitude of the forlorn, the underbelly of this city shrieking, "We're here and we will emerge from the rubble. Look at us! We're here."  A Young boy from France came to document their emotion and perhaps spread their message to the world. Next time I get to Paris I’ll be looking!


A cane toting 84-year-old fragile grandma, whose hardscrabble life in Iowa along with her two middle aged daughters, didn't prevent her from adding countless bursts of energy to our tour. First stop, Ellis Island where her daddy had arrived a century ago. 
After conducting the tour, answering numerous questions, watching the must see 20-minute film, we ventured outside and found her father's name on the wall of 700,000 names, the world's largest viewable list of names! 
I took out a fresh piece of tracing paper and with a #2 pencil I etched his name upon it, now, no doubt, a treasured possession residing in grandma's Iowa homestead. 
Upon our departure, she insisted that we visit the gift shop, but the ferry was due to arrive.
"What are you looking for grandma?"
"I need a shot glass." 
"Why don't you all get on the line for the ferry, I'll buy it for you and meet you there, okay?" 

I grabbed a shot glass, went around the back of the store to the other register, that no tourist was aware of, without a line, made the purchase, removed the ubiquitous "Made in China" label and handed the glass to her joining them on line. 

One of her daughters told me that she’d get good use out of it. Apparently she likes her "cups"!
I remarked, "Granny, come back again and next time I'll bring the thermos, vodka and my own glass and together, we'll all bend our elbows.
A deal?!" 
"Yeah, you got a deal!" Her smile was as wide as Iowa's open spaces.


Without cornhusks or overalls, four savvy and well-dressed heart landers stepped into the nine-passenger limo with grace and style; a far cry from what I had expected! I was geared up for a group that I had expected to crave the Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty and familiar tourist sites, but no, they wanted to see Alphabet City, Soho, Tribeca and Harlem! Well educated, affluent, fun and engaging, we rode, roiled and roared as we glided down the Westside Highway in our luxury Lincoln stretch without a tractor or bailer in sight! 

While in Brooklyn Heights, I pointed out Hicks Street; telling them that much of the property in the early 1800's in this area had belonged to the Hicks family, farmers! They brought their produce to Manhattan, by boat, and upon nearing the shore on the other side, the shout from awaiting vendors was often heard, "Here come the Hicks!" They howled and laughed. From farm towns they came and had learned that the origin of "hick" was derived in New York City

After a five hour tour that included lunch at Katz Deli, Avenue A, B, C and D, Striver's Row, Brooklyn Heights and the North Woods of Central Park and more, I was told that they'll be back next year and that I will hear from them for a redux. 

"No! I'm going to Tulsa and want to see the wide open spaces, get my hands dirty and smell the . . . the . . . the . . . roses?"

The following morning, a Sunday, I appeared in front of the hotel at 8AM to "send them off" to the airport with a bag of New York black & white cookies, a New York City creation.

"Have a safe and pleasant trip!"
"Thanks Cliff! How come you took the trouble to come here so early and give us these Black & White cookies?"

"Never forget, New York City is a black and white town, the melting pot, a place for all who embrace one another and accomplish so much together. You'll come back now you hear!"


With a rolling metal shopping cart that I had purchased at a hardware store, not stolen from a super market, I had entered a plush midtown hotel lobby, suited, with the cart laden with ice, chips, M & M's and three six packs of America's delicious Miller beer! This was going to be a mouth-watering tour. The most triumphant Miller distributors, from Alaska, Utah and Seattle, together with Miller's national sales manager from Milwaukee delivering the prize to the winners of the sales contest joined by their wives for a weekend in New York City.

Some had never been to New York City! What they saw and heard was familiar to me, of course, as a casual and usual part of the landscape. To them, much was astonishing, wondrous and odd. 

Palm trees in New York City (The Winter Garden), parking lots with steel frames supporting cars four high, the Grand Central Terminal food market, holy "cow", police officers on horseback, "that brownstone in Brooklyn Heights is worth about $10 million! " (Pass me another beer), "co-op boards ordering veterinary psychologists to interview dogs of would-be buyers", "a condo is $1,200 a square foot", "722 miles of subway track", part of the FDR Drive is built on rubble from London bombings during World War II! 

New York blew their socks off! The "High Life" of the tour was the attentiveness and inquisitive nature of our American "brothers and sisters" who have, in mid-life, taken their first foray into the capital city of the world. Like youngsters glaring with wide eyed amazement, bursting enthusiasm, as if they landed in FAO Schwarz from Mars, they were mesmerized by the volume of activity, the energy and vibrancy of it all. 

With or without the beer, it was New York City together with their embrace that provided the buzz. Another slice of the Big Apple taken away to points West, they are sure to return for another! Next time, I'll bring the apples, and they'll bring the beer! 


This time, without musket balls, cannons or marching orders, four dapper Brits were besieged as we invaded The Bronx. Not the usual request for typical friends from "across the pond". These lymies were fascinated as we luxuriously glided up the Champs Elysee, The Grand Concourse, of course, The Bronx! 

Two couples, intent on learning about our only coterminous borough, the size of Paris, brought their notions about The Bronx with them: "The Bronx is Burning", "Fort Apache", "Bronx Tales", the birthplace of Hip Hop, high crime and grime, guns and not roses. They now know why there's a THE in front of Bronx, why Yankee Stadium reduced its seating capacity by 7,000 seats when it had been renovated (seats were made 3" wider!) eyed the impressive Lewis Morris building, sighted the art deco adornments on numerous apartment buildings, viewed new private single family homes, couldn't believe that Mayor Koch placed tin, covering bare window frames with painted flower pots and curtains on buildings destroyed but still standing beside the Cross Bronx Expressway in the 1970's to provide a favorable impression for those motorists who passed through The Bronx! 

The more they saw, the greater their fascination and interest levels were elevated! The changing ethnic landscape over the years, the post World War II migration to the suburbs, the influx of Africans, Hondurans, ubiquitous Synagogues that now serve communities providing use for other purposes, Mott Haven, one of The Bronx's poorest neighborhoods where hundred year old homes are approaching seven figure price tags, mesmerized and bewildered them. 

When their ancestors had been defeated in 1783 by our rag tag army, little did they know that they would lose a wonderful piece of property, affectionately now known as "The Bronx." Yes, "the red coats are coming" and returning across "the pond" with a bunch of Bronx tale,; no The Bronx is not burning but thriving and growing! The best is yet to come. God Bless America! 


Having completed my research, well in advance, I was prepared to receive an extended Danish family of 26, boarding a mini-bus for our overview tour of Manhattan. From age 5 to 84, these folks from Denmark were eager to take on The Big Apple, and I knew a thing or two about Denmark to make their tour of New York more meaningful and entertaining. 

All well versed in English, the five year old asked, "How big is New York City?"
"Well, you've got 5,500,000 people living in your entire country and that's the same number of the ridership on the New York City subway system on an average weekday!" 
"Amazing, unreal, incredible!" were the retorts from 52 wide eyes.

The level of questions, amazement and attentiveness was special. This well educated and engaging family saw a city like no other. They took in the Brooklyn Bridge with wonder, even though they've got claim to the second longest suspension bridge in the world (longest is in Japan); they marveled at the diversity. They're from a country that shielded their own Jewish population during World War II by following their King's example, all wearing Jewish Star arm bands in order to thwart the Nazi's efforts to identify their Jewish countrymen. They shed tears at ground zero shaking their heads in unison and expressed their admiration and awe for New York City and America, it's growth, accomplishments and diversity; a refuge for the poor, persecuted and afflicted. 

At tour's end the elder - the grandfather gave a brief but poignant speech thanking me for the tour and inviting me to visit them in Denmark. I remarked, "I'll bring the Danishes and thank God that no armbands will be needed for any of us. Thank you Denmark, you've raised the bar, just like New York City; we're all human, brothers and sisters who join together for the common good of mankind. Safe journeys!" 


From the great state of Georgia, two loving and energetic newly weds ventured into Central Park. Not the southern part, where all tourists go, but rather, we started in the northern sector where the park is the most bucolic, natural and spectacular. Without the abundance of statues, vendors and crowds, we strolled, quick paced, through the North Woods, under the Glen Span bridge, viewed the waterfalls and experienced the mirror of the Adirondack Mountains here in mid Manhattan. The gush of the loch, the stream that is fed by the "pool", the sound of 25% of all the bird species sighted in the United States, the paths that meander past maple, oak and elms, the tropical brush that provides the refuge from the urban grid eliminated the notion that we were in the center of the greatest city on earth. 

These Georgians from Atlanta, honeymooning in The Big Apple, exhibited bursts of energy and enthusiasm that may have been left over from their enthusiasm for each other as newly weds; but then, history, themes and the beauty of the park enhanced their affection for each other! The focus on the North woods, the loch and the conservatory gardens, places where tourists just don't go because they just don't know, was a highlight of their honeymoon. 

Our walking tour was more like a jogging tour, as their thirst for the park was increased by their knowledge of the drama, players, construction of the park that was built by the hand of man (20,000) with the material provided by the hand of God. More explosives used then at the Battle of Gettysburg, the largest battle on the North American Continent. Hundreds of thousands of square yards of soil were imported from New Jersey; millions of tons of Manhattan schist (rock) removed and moved to build walls and bridges, technological marvels that lay beneath the surface made them fall in love with Central Park. 

No, the park is no threat to their budding love; rather, it's one that they embraced and will both share together for years to come. 


Babysitting is not typical for a licensed tour guide, however, exceptions do happen. A call from a five star midtown hotel compelled me to take on an assignment to spend a full day with six children ranging from age 9 to 17 while their father, an attorney, was taking depositions. 

I willingly accepted the assignment, being a parent and former school teacher here in New York City, to spend the day with the children. Good, wholesome and well behaved (for the most part); I did my thing; entertained, informed and kept them safe. 

We went to "Top of the Rock" and viewed the Statue of Liberty. I answered their numerous questions and built a rapport with them except the 9 year old son who was somewhat of a challenge. Climbing rocks, scaling walls and dodging pedestrians, his safety was a concern and distraction to me. 
"Evan! If you hurt yourself, I've got a big problem and your dad is not going to be happy with me and I can not let that happen! Got it!" 
"Sure, yeah, I'll be good."

The final stop of the tour was to be FAO Schwarz, and the nine year old, Evan, was "picking on his sister". "Drawing from my own experience as a parent and former school teacher", I said. 
"Okay, Dario (the driver) let's just go back to the hotel and leave out FAO". 
The disturbance ended immediately and off to FAO Schwarz we went.
The wonder and joy was feverish. All were in heaven and they selected their best choices leaving with a piece of happiness that made their tour complete. 

I received a call from their father, an attorney, who told me that he had wished that the deposition was as successful as the tour. I considered that as good news and bad news but he was delighted that his children tasted and more over swallowed an indelible part of The Big Apple in a big way and took it all the way home to San Diego, California, not to mention the gifts they bought at FAO! 


Armed with Luna Bars, Terra Chips, Evian and Vitamin water and two wheelchairs, I greeted a "Fortune 500" family who flew in to New York City on a family member's Gulfstream jet, several round trips from the mid-west. This "10 figure" family, swimming in wealth, was one of the most unpretentious and engaging groups that I ever had the pleasure of touring. 

I rented a topless double decker tour bus, and on a warm sunny August morning, we glided down New York's premier boulevard, Fifth Avenue. Passing Rockefeller Center, St. Patrick's Cathedral, The Empire State Building, The Flatiron and on to Union Square Park, venturing into Greenwich Village. It was difficult for me to grasp what they were thinking. From their perspective, all that they saw were available to them for the taking, and I mean owning!  Bergdorf’s, Cartier, Gucci, DeBeers and all the rest were like candy stores for them, the magnificent townhouses, luxurious condo buildings with views and cavernous duplex rooftop condos, for which they simply could have written out checks. 

But no, one could never imagine that this wonderful group had income exceeding $1,000,000 per day in interest from their investments! With all the wealth on board and here in the city, you have to think that it all comes back to one thing. The wealth of New York City is its diversity, its glorious palette of people whether rich, poor or in between, it is the respect, courtesy and consideration that we give to each other that makes this town what it is. Built by people from the lowest level of the economic ladder (20,000 men built Central Park for $1 per 10 hour day, 1857-1861) and the work of this town continues from those of all walks of life. Without our laborers, construction trades, police, fire, sanitation, teachers, subway and bus workers, Gotham would not be available for anyone no matter how great their wealth. We salute you, our fellow citizens, we respect you and appreciate your contribution building and keeping our wonderful city moving forward! Thanks all for building the greatest city on earth with the sweat off your backs, long hours cleaning our streets, saving lives, heroes, one and all! 


Crack, heroin, cocaine and marijuana were not on board as these pharmaceutical sales managers and their clients, doctors, from Dubai, came to see what they consider their competition, New York City as their vision for Dubai reaches for the sky; just like New York City began over 100 years ago. 

Naturally, prideful regarding the outstanding and impressive explosion of construction of magnificent skyscrapers on their coastal Persian Gulf hometown, they were intent on awing me with statistics and facts about Dubai; such as The Palm Islands, The World Islands and other landfill projects, actually sand fill, that provide intoxicating excesses for wealthy speculators on a global scale. 

"Hey, you guys must be on drugs!" I retorted with a childish grin.
"The use of "fill" whether it be soil or sand or rubble has been a New York City concept before a shack stood on Dubai; Canal Street once boasted a forty foot wide canal, landfill; the 722 mile subway system, The World Trade Center site and countless other building projects have expanded Manhattan by 17%! Ellis Island was 2.3 acres now it's 22 acres. And finally, much of the FDR drive is sitting on rubble from the World War II London bombings because our barges that brought goods, machinery, food, etc., needed ballast to return here from across "the pond" and that rubble was dumped on the Manhattan side of the East River! 

Admittedly, they were thoroughly impressed with New York City. It's number two in the world in the total number of skyscrapers behind Hong Kong by eleven. (A building in excess of 500 feet is a skyscraper; New York has 183 and Hong Kong, 194). These numbers will change going forward no doubt. They insisted that Dubai will be number one some day. 
"Good luck!" I told them.
They agreed and fully recognized the problems and challenges that they will face.

Certainly those challenges will turn into a lot of business for pharmaceuticals, and for them, being on drugs is a good thing! 


Safely on board a super luxury mini-bus, I, together with the wives of the CEO, fifteen top executives and directors of a major global accounting firm, began a fun filled tour, unlike no other. 

Fifteen beautiful, well-dressed ladies had expected an informative tour however the fun and laughter were not, as they had expected, on the venue! The New York Stories had them in "stitches", setting a tone not likely for those whose lives were shared by hard working CPA's! 

For example: 

I had ordered a cup of coffee at a Korean deli and as the server gave it to me after it was prepared, I attempted to pay him. He pointed to the Korean woman who was seated at the cash register. He was clearly not Asian, and he exclaimed, "No man, you have to pay over there!"
"Don't they trust you?" I asked.
His reply; "They better not!" 

A friend of mine lives in Brooklyn on Avenue O where the avenues are letter named; Avenue L, M, N, O, P, etc.
"Do you like living on Avenue O?" I had asked him.
"I love it! It's great!" he replied.
"What's so great about living on Avenue O?" I inquired.
"I only have to walk one block to P!" 

We saw the highlights of The Magical City and went off to Brooklyn and lunched at The River Café. The table talk was interesting and enjoyable. We engaged in "small talk", most notably what was one of the principle characterizations of the relationship between a husband and wife! I learned from their perspective that "A husband is supposed to make more money than his wife can spend and a wife is supposed to spend more than her husband can make!" 

Now that's Accounting 101! And I had the pleasure of sharing my time that wonderful day as a 15 figure guy!


Without a police escort, this was a first for Custom & Private New York Tours! One of America's staunchest NATO allies formally represented by a highly placed government cabinet official, visited New York City with some immediate family members; a place where he'd been many times on official business. Touring and learning about New York City from a different perspective after having always visited the City to attend official international business events, conferring with U.S. officials, enabled him to see The Big Apple, up close, in a new and exciting way! 

Inquisitive, worldly and engaging, he, his wife, daughter, son-in-law and three grandchildren were a delightful family firing endless questions and comments with an abundance of wonder and amazement. 

"What are all those tanks on top of buildings for?", "How did the crime rate get so low?", "What's Staten Island like?", "Is Mayor Bloomberg doing a good job?", "Do most children graduate from High School?", "How many people live here?" , "Are there flowers in Central Park?" and on and on and on. 

Knowing that I was touring with a family that was very worldly, prominent and extremely well educated could have put me on "the spot". However, all their questions were well answered, as they had expressed, which stimulated their interest even further. 

They were satiated with information and thoroughly enjoyed their tour that ended at Katz Deli. That satiated them too, this time with delicious pastrami, corned beef and brisket sandwiches, and oh those pickles! With heads and stomachs full, we bid our farewells on the F train back to the hotel. I too felt somewhat satiated with the satisfaction that I had provided a wonderful experience for an honored and formidable leader of the free world and his wonderful family. 


The privilege of touring with five intelligent, fun filled and attractive women is most rewarding and enjoyable for me, especially when the connectivity, interest and astonishment with what they saw and heard while on tour makes the day! Peppered with curious and well thought out questions, spontaneous fun and laughter, we all had a splendid time. 

They were particularly impressed with Central Park, even in January, when trees are bare and the grass isn't quite as green as summer. "I can't imagine how beautiful this must be in the fall!" one said. "It's so hard for me to imagine that this park was built! It looks so natural, as if it was always here." They, unlike even most New York City residents, are now back in Canada, knowing more about the park, its history, themes, costs and technology, then nine out of ten New Yorkers. 

Seeing and touching a stone that had been part of the prison cell of Joan of Arc; viewing granite columns 135 feet high with foundations of equal depth and enjoying the display of a white peacock spreading her feathers, all at The Cathedral of St. John the Divine, the world's largest, was a breathless and unforgettable experience for all. 

Saying our goodbyes at a restaurant in Soho they told me that they'd like to consider another tour for the next day! Having received a rescheduling of the next day's tour from another client, I was available for them. The call came later in the day confirming another tour from these financial planners. We spent another wonderful four hours together, this time using the subways and foot power. At tours end the sky opened up and so did our umbrellas, (provided by me - I knew that rain was forecasted) and as we passed the Bear Stearns building, with rain teaming down in buckets, I shouted, "There's the Bear Stearns building! Look how high it is!" And they all swung back their umbrellas and had forgotten the rain until they all got doused! We laughed, "Na na na na naa naa!! I knew you'd fall for that!" I told them. We all howled!! 

Funny thing, even financial planners, ladies who help others plan their financial affairs for a livelihood, couldn't have expected that they would invest in an additional unexpected tour. 


After visiting Central Park and learning that it took more dynamite to build the park than was used in the battle of Gettysburg I suggested that we stop by Grant’s tomb, the general that had led the Federal forces against our Southern brothers over 140 years ago. I knew that it would be iffy, but it being the largest sarcophagus in the United States a magnificent Palladium edifice designed after Napoleon’s, that it may be of interest. After all, these Southern Americans may had liked viewing the General and Julia, his wife, in “boxes”.
Not a chance! In their nicest way possible, they politely opted for Harlem instead. We rolled into New York City ’s largest neighborhood and that took them by surprise. Striver’s Row and all its beauty and history enthralled them, but Astor Row blew them away, totally. These Savannah Georgia style American Victorian brick townhomes were not what they had expected. Nowhere else in New York City are green painted townhouses, built by John Jacob Astor’s great grandson, to be found. Seeing the magnificent block of restored brownstones adjacent to Marcus Garvey Park had them clicking their cameras too! Two beautiful daughters together with their stunning “Mama” from Jackson Mississippi were so thrilled with their private tour that they booked another for the next day. 

Never before has New York City been assaulted by such a dose of Southern Hospitality. Their charm and glamour peppered the greatest city on earth. Before they left I was about to invite them back but they beat me to the punch; “We’ll be back to do Brooklyn and with the kids please take us on a children’s tour!” Sure, we’ll do it all! And before saying good-bye I suggested that I take them to Harlem next time for a gospel service and grits. They loved the idea and taught me something, what grits really means! Girls Raised In The South! Take a look, they're right there on your left!


“Cliff, do you still do Mafia tours?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Badda Bing!”
These tours are among my favorites. Clients who request it are fun and they are delighted with the venue. I put on the right “threads” (see photo left) and we reel through the haunts of the most notorious gangsters, crooked politicians, gang members and underworld “hit” spots too. No two tours are exactly alike and today’s venue was perfectly suited to fit the requests outlined by my guests.

We stopped by The Tweed Courthouse, where it all began; the most corrupt government in history; then on to The Five Points where the Dead Rabbit, Eastman and Five Points gang fought for turf and power, viciously and tenaciously vying for power, territory and control of New York’s most dangerous neighborhood in the late 1800’s and early 20th century. It was the seedbed of the five families, the American Mafia.

On to the Don’s barber shop, the first pizza restaurant in The United States (1915), the scene of the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire (1911) that gave rise to the labor union movement (a mafia infested “opportunity”), Spark’s Steakhouse where John Gotti had “Big Pauli” Paul Castillano rubbed out, 870 7 th Avenue where Albert Anastasia was gunned down taking a shave, Hell’s Kitchen and up to East Harlem where the Gambino’s dine, Rao’s and the site of where Sonny beat up his brother-in-law in the street and threw a trash can at him. We “hit” the Cotton Club and finished up at a cozy Italian restaurant in Little Italy feasting on pasta, red wine and delicious pastries. It’s wonderful when guests have a special area of interest. Whether it’s Angels, Police Stations and Fire Houses or Graffiti, it’s all good. So pack your white tie and black shirt, the Don may invite you for a “sit down!”

To "book" your special tour or discuss your interests, wishes and needs please contact:


382 Central Park West
New York, NY 10025

Cliff Strome,
Licensed Tour Director

All deposits are 100% refundable* upon a minimum of 72 hours cancellation prior to your tour via email or telephone.

*Except tickets to excursions such as water taxi statue of liberty cruise, top of the rock, helicopter tours, etc.

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