Dear Newsweek staff, enjoy. Be safe. Make good choices.

The move comes with the stipulation that the bar and its managing partner, Greg Hunt, adhere to a list of 14 guidelines issued by residents, which include bans on outdoor seating, loud music and dancing. The board's recommendation is non-binding, but will factor into a review by the state's Liquor Authority. If any of the community's guidelines are broken following an approval, the liquor license would be revoked.

Mr. Hunt and his colleagues described the bar as a sophisticated, upscale amenity that would target patrons over 35, including visitors of the nearby Lincoln Center. It would have soundproofing and play the jazz of Billie Holiday, Miles Davis and John Coltrane, and not the thumping club music that opponents have insinuated. Light foods would be prepared off-site and heated in the bar's ovens, but no full kitchen would exist.

Mr. Hunt argued that the bar was consistent with the neighborhood's character, and he had responded to all of the community demands. A community board member said that the guidelines had been legally notarized as part of the liquor license application. "We're putting our money where our mouth is," said Mr. Hunt, a lifetime Upper West Side resident. "We've addressed every single one of their concerns."

Residents of 25 Central Park West and the nearby 15 Central Park West weren't satisfied, however.

A particular sour point is the closing time of the bar. Mr. Hunt insisted that the bar needed to stay open until 1:30 a.m. from Wednesday to Saturday, an hour later than the 12:30 a.m. closing time from Sunday to Tuesday, to attract the after-theater crowd. He added that the space only held around 65 patrons at once, so the additional four hours would be crucial for economic survival.

Residents disagreed, pointing to restaurants in the area that close earlier, although the proposed bar straddles the line between a full-service restaurant, which typically closes around midnight, and traditional beer bars, which stay open as late as 4 a.m.

An amendment proposed by a board member limiting the bar to a 12:30 a.m. closing time throughout the week was defeated, and the board ended up accepting the 1:30 a.m. closing time on some days, although residents remain opposed.

There's also the question of zoning. Twenty-five Central Park West is zoned for residential use, but a Gristedes supermarket previously occupied the ground floor of the building. The bar's lawyers argue that the fact that the space was used in a "non-conforming" way means that the bar can continue to use it in a commercial manner. But in accordance with the arcane approval process, the applicants first must obtain a liquor license before the zoning issue is even considered, and so the issue was downplayed by supporters of the bar.

Meanwhile, residents have hired a number of consultants to bolster their cause, including land use attorney Paul Silver, who is also representing Extell in their massive Riverside Center proposal. He argued against modifying the zoning of the building in order to accommodate the bar, as it would compromise the purely residential character of the area. (Ironically, Extell is attempting to get over a dozen zoning changes approved in its Riverside project.)

If approved, the project will go back to City Planning to sort out the zoning question, which will likely spark more opposition.

Until then, residents will have to get their Billie Holiday and wine fix elsewhere.

rli@observer.com

Shouldn't it? 

Last March, Governor Paterson watched his plan to legalize the sale of wine in grocery stores drown in a dizzying maelstrom of debate and protest from small liquor store owners throughout the state. They unified through the Last Store on Main Street campaign: a grassroots merger of the upstate New York State Liquor Store Association and their downstate counterpart, the Metropolitan Package Store Association. 

Now Governor Paterson has reintroduced the wine-in-grocery-store initiative; and this time, with a freshly unveiled $8.2 billion budget deficit, the stakes are higher. With hopes of minimizing the usual fury of lobbyist backlash, he's laced his new initiative with compensation for liquor-store owners, like changing the highly restrictive liquor laws to allow them to sell snacks, cheeses, and gift baskets, and to let them operate ATMs. 

Michael Correra, executive director of the Metropolitan Package Store Association, the downstate liquor store lobby, considers the compensation to be paltry at best. "We feel 1,000 stores will be out of business," he said. "Our most profitable products are being taken away from us. Potato chips and gift baskets aren't going to begin to fill that void." 

According to the lobby's Web site, wine accounts for as much as 80 percent of liquor store sales in New York State, so it's not easy to convince a liquor-store owner that you should be able to buy a cabernet in the same place you buy your Soap Opera Digest, and Mr. Paterson isn't likely to sway them to pipe down. If anything, their message is steeped in an intense sense of urgency this time around.

"This will kill small business," said Stefan Kalogridis, president of the upstate New York Liquor Store Association. "I have senior citizens working for me to supplement their Social Security, I have college kids working for me to pay off loans. These people will lose their jobs." 

With these kinds of arguments pervading their frequent mailers and press releases, it's no surprise that the Main Street lobby's grassroots campaign has been so effective. They raised almost $1 million in just over a month of fund-raising last spring, which was enough to efficiently communicate their cause to legislators and state—officials, who, according to Mr. Kalogridis, didn't want to support a measure that would threaten employment and shut down businesses in their districts.

The lobby might have been a hit with politicians, but it also energized an opposition of New Yorkers who, besides craving an increased availability of wine, are concerned about the future of state funding for their schools, municipal services, and public transportation. The state is currently hemorrhaging financially, devouring its non-renewable resources and fumbling for new sources of revenue to make up for dramatic financial shortfalls, and we're in no position to scoff at any reform that promises $162 million of new revenue, they'd argue.

Proponents of the measure accuse the lobby of politicized and manipulative exaggeration.

"Other states sell wine in grocery stores and they manage it," says Elizabeth Lynam, deputy research director at the non-partisan Citizens' Budget Commission. "This will be an opportunity for smaller liquor stores to develop their local market place, where they have a specialty; maybe by offering tastings, or selling local or organic wine that's harder to stock in the larger chains. It's an opportunity for them to create their own marketplace."

Indeed, while their business may take a big hit, the whole package-store industry isn't going to get eradicated overnight. In 35 states where wine is sold in grocery stores, liquor stores still exist. In Florida, which adopted a similar measure placed against similar legal restraints, liquor stores often exist next door or across the street to supermarkets, and offer better, more specialized wines as a way to serve a niche market. 

Upstate liquor store owners, who have been very vocal in the debate, counter that without as much demand for organic or specialty wines in their regions, they stand to be out-priced by wholesalers.

David Paterson has the consumers of New York State on his side. After all, what oenophile wouldn't want more options, at presumably better prices? For the moment, he also has the support of Senate Conference Leader John Sampson and Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver, but considering his ever-dwindling reserve of political capital and tanking poll numbers, Mr. Paterson may watch his legislative support for the measure turn to vinegar under the stomping feet of angry wine merchants.