A rediscovered fragment from the Syracuse New Times, October 24, 1976:

But enough of bars that no longer exist. Another bar which serves both the neighborhood and the University is still with us, although in altered form.

Lee’s, 506 Westcott St., has been in the heart of the Westcott Nation for ages. A friend tells me it used to be called Pop’s and was across the street from the present site. But that was 25 years ago, when she was five-years-old, crawling under tables and cadging potato chips. I first entered Lee’s in 1965, and it was truly a homey place to drink. It was a Thursday night, and my companions and I were the only students in the bar. Four middle-aged ladies in cloth coats, parched from bowling, came in an began ordering rounds of Genesee. We decided to keep up. After 45 minutes, with 16 empties on the table, they gave the bartender a cheery wave and departed into the night; we were left like beached whales, devastated and burping in our booth.

A special attraction of Lee’s in the Sixties was the faculty of the Syracuse University English department. They added a literary note to the proceedings, discussing Milton, Pushkin, Aztec human-sacrifice and, of course, who was sleeping with whom.

As time went on, Lee’s acquired new ceiling tiles, a carpet, paneling, and two new rooms, but lost much of its flavor in the process. The worst improvement was the removal of the hot dog and kraut steamer, which beckoned to our senses on snowy nights.

But the Lee’s that remains is still an interesting bar with as diverse a patronage as you’ll find anywhere in the city. It is hard to imagine anyone, short of a Vogue model, feeling out of place at Lee’s. That remains its greatest strength, something that carpenters and carpet salesmen have not been able to take away.

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The “friend” who cadged potato chips was Mary Hotchkiss, the delightful daughter of a distinguished S.U. professor.

Speaking of chips, I recall that for $1, I could get a hot dog with kraut, a bottle of Utica Club and a bag of potato chips.

My “companions” that first Thursday night were probably Dan McNelly, Rick Ward and David “DT” Taylor; you couldn’t find a finer group to drink with.

The dean of the English department at Lee’s was Bob Hastings, a man of eloquence and much patience.