The place was so packed with Italian hoods it looked like a 1937 rally for Benito Mussolini. Usually, Tony's is a quiet little bar-restaurant that once was a hangout for has-been and would-be writers and is now a mecca for the current crop of Village bohemians and hippies high on philosophy, low on cash. The iron-barred peephole in the back door attested to the fact that it had been a speakeasy back in Prohibition days. It is always dark, with black walls trimmed in dark brown and all the light subdued. The dining room is fair-sized, but overcroweded with rough-hewn tables. Once past the tables, a small barroom is squared off with elbow-level counters and a row of undecorative coathooks. All in all, it is dark, dingy, and devoid of decor, but for years it has been one of the most popular places in the Village. My first surprise was the number of people jammed into the place. The tables had all been removed except for three long ones in front of the fireplace which were piled high with Italian pasta of unbelievable variety.
