What’s Left of The Lot in the Winter

Gabriella DePinho

An outdoor bar is the perfect spot for summer nights in the city. But after the leaves have turned, and the air starts to chill, there are fewer customers venturing to The Lot in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. In addition to being a bar, The Lot is the home of a non-profit 24-hour online radio station — The Lot Radio; host to a community fridge; the distribution center for a zine; and a hub for community. The sales from the drinks help fund the station, which is why the bar is kept open year-round.

On an unusually busy Friday night in mid-November, customers approach the serving window all evening, and Madeline Benfield goes back and forth between wedging the “killer” window open with a block of wood and keeping it closed to stay warm. She makes polite conversation with each customer, and flashes smiles, her chipped right canine tooth winking at all of them. One customer approaches, asking for a cup of water, and Madeline points straight ahead saying, “Oh the water jug is right there, it’s free, you can help yourself.” But the jug is all empty, and Madeline jumps to replace it.

Madeline has a long, heavy coat hanging on a hook behind the door, but for now, she leaves it there, and steps out into the below-40-degree weather in jeans, wearing a crop top over her flannel. Her long blonde hair is pulled back in a braid that is tied off with a torn ribbon. The flannel exposes her neck, where a smooth rock hangs on a gold chain. She walks around the side of the building, past the three port-a-potties, and comes back lugging a large Poland Spring jug over her shoulder.

“This job is so hard during the winter. It’s so cold and you’re doing the most insane outdoor tasks,” she says, while trying to yank the plastic lid off the jug. “Can you hand me the wrench thing?”

Her friend Abby, who has been hanging out with her throughout her shift, hands her a pair of pliers through the window. With the pliers, Madeline grips the tab that she’d been ripping at with her bare hands, which are turning redder the longer she stays outside.

“We have to be creative with our solutions because it’s not a real building,” she says as

she finally gets the lid off. She smiles to herself, satisfied with her work before walking it over to replace the old jug.

There are few options to winterproof The Lot, so the makeshift solutions have to work. The main building that houses Madeline’s serving space is nothing more than a shipping container that has been transformed — primarily by insulating materials and electricity — into the multipurpose hub it is now. According to Four, another employee at The Lot, the security camera on the roof is not weatherproof, yet it’s worked through all of New York’s intense storms. The TV in the wooden overhang on the left side of the property just barely works. They have just upgraded the overhang with space heaters and siding. Now they’ll keep using what they have until it stops working.

At 22, Madeline is one of the youngest team members there, but she is already a manager. She hails from Georgia, but she’s lived in New York for a few years now while studying graphic design at Parsons. She worked a variety of freelance jobs before deciding it was time to “work at a place.” As someone who frequented The Lot, she quickly landed the job a little over a year ago. She started out by archiving DJ shows to SoundCloud and MixCloud and now she helps keep the place in order.

Yet The Lot offers her as much as she can offer it.

“When I first moved to New York, I didn’t feel like I had a community,” she said. “I didn’t know my neighborhood or anything, but it’s special here.”

The Lot is special in the way that it’s more than just a place of employment, but it’s a home base for nights out, a place for connection with DJs and coworkers, and a place that sells coffee after 10 p.m. — the initial draw for Madeline.

“I’ve made a lot of lifelong friends,” she said. “I’ve learned a lot about people in general. I’ve learned how to relate to people older than me and younger than me.”

Madeline does her best to make The Lot feel like a community. When she hears one customer say “Come on it’s your birthday, let me treat you” to another, she lifts her head up from the register’s screen and asks “Whose birthday is it?’ The woman on the left points to the woman on the right, who smiles sheepishly while reaching to dip her card into the machine. Madeline reaches over the register, and blocks the birthday girl’s path. “I’m sorry but I have to let your friend pay,” and shouts “Happy birthday!” as they walk away.

Gary, a regular who lives by McGolrick Park, comes by while she’s on a smoke break. She greets him with a hug, and they banter about what she’s smoking before he walks off. She tells him to be careful. “He’s drunk,” Madeline comments. “He only talks that loudly when he’s been drinking.” Normally, he brings a rock each visit; there’s a pile of them collecting in the window. Sophia, another regular, is slated to come later in the evening. She collects cans and they make small talk, using Google Translate to make sense of Sophia’s Polish. When it gets too cold out, she invites the for-hire security guard, Israel, to hang out inside, and they talk about astrology to kill the time.

In December, The Lot hosts its open “office party” and the place is hopping all day. Madeline is put in charge of ordering pizza for the group of employees and friends — on the owner’s card. After every worker and friend has had a slice, the extra slices get offered to the strangers gathered on the other side of the fire pit. She jumps from friend to coworker, making sure everyone has a drink and that their cups are full.

Even on a night off, Madeline is busy, but she knows she’s lucky.

“In the moment, this job can be hard,” she says. “But there’s nothing like this. I’m so grateful for it, for the friends I’ve made and everything. I got this job during the pandemic and it’s changed my life.”

It’s at this party that what makes The Lot special — and bearable even during the winter — becomes clear. Stripped to its barest bones, all that is left is the community: the employees, their friends, the DJs, the customers, all coexisting in the same ecosystem, all enjoying each other’s company, despite how fleeting the time together may be.

Madeline is heading home to Georgia for the holidays, and then going skiing with some friends in Vermont. She’ll be back in early January. But when she graduates in May, her fate with The Lot is up in the air.

“I’m hoping to get a graphic design job,” she says. “Sometimes I want a change because it’s monotonous, but I see this becoming a place I come back to do work or get coffee. I know it’ll always be here.”