The Unlikely Friendship That Saved Lucy’s, a Homey New York Tavern

As the chief executive of Golden Age Hospitality, Mr. Neidich, 43, runs a chic downtown empire that includes the Le Dive in Dimes Square and the Nines piano bar, where a caviar potato costs $99. That would seem to put him a long way from Lucy’s — but 18 years ago, when he was an aspiring actor, he started living above the bar and became a regular.

He grew close with Ms. Mickevicius, despite their vastly different backgrounds — he’s a son of Upper East Side privilege — and he even helped out from time to time, working as her barback in what was his first gig in the hospitality industry.

So when he learned that Lucy’s was closing, he approached the landlord and cut a deal. But as word got out that he was planning a renovation, the local grief turned to local panic. Some people in the neighborhood worried that he might fancy the place up until it was drained of all character. EV Grieve, an East Village news blog, reported on developments as if covering Watergate. A typical commenter predicted that Mr. Neidich would bring in “noisy tourists” and “pretentious patrons.”

“I know what people say when they hear someone like me is taking over a place like this,” he said.

Construction paper covered the windows until the work was done. On a recent night, a crowd of Lucy’s regulars was among those invited to the reopening party. Aside from a few touch-ups — a young mustached bartender wearing a bucket cap, an overhaul of the water-stained ceiling — the divey-ness of the place had been preserved. Dusty softball league trophies still lined the walls. The Rolling Stones still played on the jukebox. Even the bathroom graffiti had been left intact.

Kristi Lowery, a longtime regular, sat at the bar nursing a drink. “I moved here from South Carolina with a few girlfriends in 1993, and then some friends took us to Lucy’s,” she said. “The reason Lucy’s is special is Lucy herself. She gave me the courage to live in New York City. She’s been like a mother to so many of us.”

At 10 p.m., the gnarled door swung open. Wearing a winter coat and walking with the help of a cane, Ms. Mickevicius entered. Everybody cheered. Mr. Neidich looked on with a smile as her old customers greeted her with hugs. She ordered a gin and tonic and posed for selfies.