Memories of Ruby's

Brick: Somewhat less than a beach by the white sand standards of Acapulco, Coney Island has always been, or at least meant, something more, too. Like the sylvan refuge of the Cloisters, the very existence of an actual beach, silly T-shirts and all, is New York's way of saying, yes, against all odds, in this great faithless testament to mortar, steel and engineering, the city can even give you this. Come and see.