Krug's Tavern

by Frank Harrison


In honor of the Old Newark luncheon at Krug’s later this month, I’d like to share a story. My parents were friends of Krugs’ owners, and it was definitely one of their favorite spots. Stopping into Krug’s one afternoon, my father hung at the bar while I sipped a Coke in the backroom playing shuffleboard.

Getting tired, my father had me take a nap in the car, which was parked in the lot out back. Restless, I decided to play behind the wheel for awhile, pretending to drive. After a few minutes, I laid down on the back seat and went to sleep. Unfortunately, while playing I took the car out of gear. Slowly, during my nap, the car rolled out of the lot onto the street, coming to rest, coincidentally, in front of my aunt and uncles’ house, the Conroys, and blocking Napoleon St.

Awoken by flashing police and ambulance lights, I was non-plussed and told the officers I was unhurt, and led them to my father in Krug’s. Nowadays he would probably have been arrested for child-neglect, but instead he had to incur the wrath of my mother, a much-worse fate.



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