An ominous thump signaled the closing of the trunk above me, encasing me in darkness and an ear-splitting silence. My legs searched into the dark for a more comfortable position, careful not to disturb my cousin Danielle or my little sister, who both lay next to me in the trunk. My body rocks forward with the motion of the car, and I wonder where we are. Sensing that an onslaught of little-kid questions is coming, Danielle preempts me: “We need to stay quiet,” she whispers. “No one can know we’re in here.” I am lying on my side—a position that makes it awkward to brace myself against the turning and braking of the car. Careful not to take any superfluous breaths, I am just about to panic about the lack of air when I hear muffled voices in a negotiation at the front of the car. We all hold our breath, our faces lit by the dim red glow of the brake lights while we wait. Then, the car picks up speed for a few moments before stopping again. After a small “pop,” the trunk flies open and another cousin is staring down at me, giving me directions. “Hurry up. Get in the car.” I jump up out of the trunk and run swiftly to the back seat. Danielle and my sister cram in next to me as we take off. We turn one final corner at the end of the field, and it is as if we have been transported to another world. The car shifts into park, and I take in the glory around me. My sister looks at me excitedly: “Our first drive-in movie!”

I was ten years old on my annual summer visit with my grandma, five hours away from home. All my older cousins lived nearby, and one warm July night they asked me and my sister to go to the drive-in movie theater with them. We’d never been to a drive-in and didn’t know what to expect, but we agreed immediately. When you’re little, your older cousins occupy an untouchable space—no one is as cool and interesting as they are. Being included in their plans grants legitimacy to your existence that can’t be found anywhere else. My cousins gathered a bunch of us to go and planned to split us among two cars. They explained their tried-and-true strategy for saving money on all the tickets: They’d pull over just before the ticket booth and hide half the group in the trunk. There was a little field past the ticket stand, and before the outdoor theater that was a perfect spot to set the stowaways free. This sounded like a risky plan—and I was a highly risk averse child—but I was so caught up in their enthusiasm that I volunteered to get in one of their trunks. My sister agreed with no hesitation, and the deal was done. My cousins all drove yacht-sized Oldsmobiles that had been handed down by their parents, and three bodies would fit easily into those cavernous trunks. (We probably had room in there for a few pontoon boats if we really pushed it.) Before we left, our cousins told us there was one hard rule for riding in the trunk: “No farting.”

Their plan worked like a charm; we got our whole group in without incident, and we all took our places to watch the movie. Some stayed in the car, some sat on the hood, and some lay on the ground on a blanket. I chose my perch on the roof of the car, a spot that I felt honored the anarchy of the whole experience. It wasn’t too long before the mosquitoes started their attack, and I was forced to move back inside the car. I was okay with the change in location, though, because inside the car I had my pick of the many snacks that we packed for the trip. We were there to see a Keanu Reeves double feature that went late into the night. They weren’t the type of movies I’d watch at home, which added to their intrigue; I was transfixed. I also remember the little details about the evening: the novelty of hearing the movie’s dialogue through the car radio; the dampness of the air on my face as it got late and the temperature dropped; I felt so grown up as I stayed out past my bedtime to see the second movie, with only my (very lenient) older cousins as official chaperones. I knew for sure that none of the other kids in my class were having a summer like the one I was having. Most of them stayed at home to do pedestrian things, like day camp or local playgrounds. Meanwhile, I was rolling with my cousins, hiding in trunks, and running a swindle job on unsuspecting ticket takers. It was everything summer break should be for a kid: loosened routines, new experiences, and a dabble of rebellion.

That inaugural trip to the drive-in was also everything that a movie-going experience should be—heavy handed on all the magic. Whether you’re in an open field or a dark theater, the suspense of what comes next should hook you into your seat. The chance to participate in a life different from your own should keep you curious about humanity. Movies can just be entertainment, but they also display the power of storytelling and all the connections that make us alike. In a perfect scenario, the people you go to the movies with will add to the excitement so that the ritual of going is a movie unto itself. That’s how it was that late night at the drive-in with my cousins. I have seen thousands of movies since, but none were as memorable as the night I landed in the trunk.

This article originally appeared in the November/December 2025 issue of (585).

Holiday lights are twinkling, snow is gently falling, and the time to break out your holiday wardrobe has finally come. Between silly sweaters and cozy fleece pants, it can seem like we have all of our bases covered. But what happens when a holiday party sneaks onto your calendar? While your typical look may be great for an at-home celebration, if you’re invited out somewhere as spectacular as, say, Vanni’s Jazz Lounge, the new speakeasy located at the Inn on Broadway, your normal look just isn’t going to cut it. 

Boasting lush green velvet seating, brass accents, and a truly tantalizing atmosphere, Vanni’s invites us to embrace the romance and step into the spotlight with our best foot forward. For today’s looks, we’ve collaborated with fashion veteran Sharon Barratt, owner and visionary of Scarlet Fashions. Tucked away in her private studio in Fairport, Barratt’s carefully chosen collection of formalwear offers her customers the opportunity to be bold and truly embrace their femininity. The four gowns featured here exude glam and charm, making them perfect not just for Vanni’s unmatched aesthetic but for any elegant social gathering you attend this season.

With our first look, we wanted to embrace timeless elegance, and nothing says dreamy quite like a luscious black velvet gown. From the carefully crafted crocheted florals to the onyx sheen of the empire waist, this dress feels plucked right out of the 1930s. The slight gather below the bust creates a delicate waistline that drops seamlessly down into a comfortable column-shaped skirt, not too fitted but still the perfect complement to our model Tanya Coleman’s figure. The elbow-length sleeves allow for an additional level of coverage, and our gown retains an overall sensual flare as we catch peeks of the model’s skin through the lacy pinholes of the bodice. We chose to add a matching drop earring and bracelet set to add a bit of sparkle while still letting the gown take center stage.

Speaking of stage, our next look transformed Coleman into the jazz singer of our dreams. Dripping gold-sequined accents complement incredibly detailed embroidery to create a gown reminiscent of the flapper era. Something this flashy may be intimidating for most occasions, but the holidays encourage a level of playfulness perfectly fit for a dress like this. With the addition of shimmering eyeshadow similar to the gown’s own hue, a simple gold bangle, and gold drop earrings, this look comes together in a bold flash that pops perfectly against Vanni’s lusciously curtained stage.

Now let’s turn our lens to a gown with sequined flare. This green-hued gown isn’t just sexy and classy but also insanely comfortable, with the base fabric consisting of a soft stretch velvet. That stretch allows the gown to hug your body in all the right ways without restricting movement, making it the perfect look to hit the dance floor in. We would be remiss to not take note of the incredible Art Deco earrings, featuring bold green stones and smaller clear crystals, that add the perfect amount of vintage flare. These earrings, plus a fun, beaded headpiece help carry the vibrant colors of this gown throughout the entire look for a vision that is full of glamour and character.

Finally, we finish this shoot with a gown that can only be described as a true piece of art. Standing against a romantic black-and-white wallpaper complemented by deep green velvet curtains, Coleman looks ethereal in an elaborate sequined gown that glows no matter what direction the light shines. Black and silver embroidery and delicate illusion fabric converge to create an incredible Art Deco masterpiece ideal for one of Gatsby’s fabulous soi-rees. The long sleeves provide warmth on chillier evenings while a gentle V-neck keeps this gown looking young and playful. We finished this look with a pair of crystal earrings that perfectly frame Coleman’s face, allowing for her to glow just as brightly as the gown’s intricate detailing.

Whether it’s bold sparkles or dreamy velvets that make you light up this holiday season, it’s clear there is no wrong way to shine when the holiday celebrations come calling. If you are interested in any of these four looks or would like to explore a plethora of other glamorous gowns, you can schedule an appointment today with Barratt at Scarlet Fashions. scarlet-fashions.com

Photographer: Michael Hanlon

Gowns and Accessories: Scarlet Fashions/Sharon Barratt

Makeup: Lamany Chanthavong

Hair: Michelle Doyle

Model: Tanya Coleman

This article originally appeared in the November/December 2025 issue of (585).

Book-to-movie/television adaptations are everywhere. Apple TV, Prime Video, Netflix, Hulu, and Hollywood all want content, giving authors more opportunities than ever to sell their screen rights. Not that the idea of turning a book into a film is new; in fact, Cinderella by Charles Perrault (1697) was turned into a six-minute film by Georges Méliès in 1899. More followed, especially when silent films graduated to sound in 1927. In 2025, local author Edward Ashton’s Mickey 7 was released by Warner Bros. as Mickey 17, and Rochester has plenty more fodder to sell. Will one of our picks be the next to hit the screen? Time will tell!

Freedom Village: A Memoir

By Mary Rosenberger

Payette Publishing, 2024

Mary’s parents thought they had found their calling at Freedom Village, a Christian home and school where troubled teens were sent for rehabilitation. They had three children, and Mary and her sister became an integral part of the school’s music program. But they also had to follow the rules of Pastor, Freedom Village’s hypocritical leader, or risk being punished. As she grew up, Mary realized the fear Pastor imparted was not necessary in order for her to love God.

This memoir shows how faith can be weaponized for control despite a religion’s emphasis on love and forgiveness. Parts of Rosenberger’s young life gave her joy, such as music and dance, so her later confusion about Freedom Village was justified. Her writing is honest, vulnerable, and healing to herself and others overcoming a traumatic time.

Today, Rosenberger lives with her husband and their three children outside Rochester where she still expresses herself through music and movement. She is a fan of Ted Dekker’s Circle Trilogy, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and movies with amazing soundtracks. Rosenberger says the best part of being an author is “the satisfaction of expressing exactly what I feel and know to be true.” Instagram: @maryrosenberger87

Hum

By William David Thomas

Charlesbridge Moves, 2024, hardcover, $17.99

Allen doesn’t remember his parents; all he has are the nightmares that don’t match the story he was told about their death. Eight years later, Allen and his grandmother move to a small Adirondack town where he’s finally making friends. But when a day trip leads him to a llama who he can communicate with, the truth about his parents’ death comes to light.

This concise novel offers quick satisfaction to questions about Allen’s past. His talent for communicating with llamas through hums is a unique twist that readers will believe is possible. The short chapters may attract reluctant readers seeking a middle grade adventure with an animal theme. 

Thomas, the author of more than two dozen nonfiction books for kids, loves doing school visits to chat about books and writing. He is also fond of Casablanca, author Kate DiCamillo’s work, Durand Eastman Park, and the University of Rochester’s Memorial Art Gallery. This father and grandfather once lived on a small island in the South Pacific but now resides with his wife near Lake Ontario. He’s traveled to six continents and still dreams of visiting the icy seventh. williamdavidthomas.com

Log Off

By Kristen Felicetti

Shabby Doll House, 2024, paperback, $19.00

Six years ago, Ellora’s mom left her in the care of her boyfriend, Brian, and never came back. Now sixteen-year-old Ellora navigates family and friend highs and lows through her LiveJournal entries. She reconnects with a classmate, acts in a play, and breaks through to Brian for long-awaited answers, sharing it all with her online friends in the early 2000s.

The song references reinforce the time period, from Tori Amos’s Boys for Pele to Fiona Apple’s “Limp,” and effectively convey Ellora’s moods. The LiveJournal format and references to the Gore/Bush “Choose and Lose 2000” election will bring back memories to the forty-plus crowd. Late Gen Xers and early Millennials will particularly enjoy—and relate to—this novel.

Felicetti is the editor-in-chief of The Bushwick Review, head of support for Substack, and fan of Rochester’s local music scene (check out provocateur Beef Gordon and country band Candy). When she’s not traveling, you can find her at Bookeater, Tryon City Tavern, and Katboocha. She loves hearing from readers and writers. kristenfelicetti.com

Our Last Walk Home: Love, Cancer, and the Agony of Letting Go

By Jennifer Sanfilippo

Jennifer Sanfilippo, 2024, paperback, $19.99

When her fifty-six-year-old husband, Jim, was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive leukemia, the author struggled to support him and their two sons. Jennifer navigated the hospital, the COVID-19 pandemic, and her own mental health with mixed results. Six months later, Jim died, leaving Jennifer to process the overwhelming whirlwind of a year and find a path forward.

This memoir is written with beauty, wit, and despair and will make the reader smile and cry. Jennifer’s descriptions of the difficulties in getting straight medical answers not fueled by insurance companies will ring true to anyone who has cared for a hospitalized loved one. The book is a concrete and caring tribute to Jim and their marriage.

Jennifer is now an “end of life” doula, helping others process their feelings about loss. She also grows pawpaw trees at her Rochester home, noting they are locally indigenous and “Jim used to sell the fruit at the Westside farmers market.” Jennifer enjoys meals at Pat’s Coffee Mug and the Southwedge Diner, and, during the snowy season, she ice skates at RCSD’s No. 12 school pond. She loves her Rochester community. Jennifer-sanfilippo.com

Say it with a Beautiful Song: The Art and Craft of the American Songbook

By Michael Lasser* & Harmon Greenblatt

Rowman & Littlefield, 2024

*Are you a fan of mid-twentieth century films? How about a musical theater junky? Then the 1920s through 1960s songs, composers, and artists discussed in this work will have you itching to catch a show. The American Songbook’s repertoire is analyzed to see just how the hits stuck with listeners for the past century. The authors explain how the tunes, often with Black and Latin roots, merged into new songs, using rhyme and humor that appealed to post-WWI white audiences looking for an escape from reality.

Readers will learn about Irving Berlin, Dorothy Fields, George Gershwin, and many others. Song lists at the end of each chapter may inspire readers to listen along for a full multimedia experience. Michael Lasser hosted the syndicated public radio show Fascinatin’ Rhythm for more than forty years, so it tracks that his favorite movies include Casablanca, All About Eve, and Singing’ in the Rain. Locals may have seen him grabbing a bite at Jine’s Restaurant or reading in the Rundel Memorial Library. His latest book, Sweet Freedom’s Song, was released October 2.

*In loving memory of Michael Lasser (1936–2025)

This article originally appeared in the November/December 2025 issue of (585).

The holidays are fast approaching. That means parties and get-togethers with family and friends from November through January. Which in turn means finding thoughtful, special gifts for those that hold these occasions. While the usual bottle of wine, box of chocolates, or platter of cookies is always appreciated, a handmade gift warms the hearts of both the receiver and the giver.

Finding the time to be a maker is already difficult with full-time jobs and typical family obligations. When factoring in the additional cleaning, decorating, cooking, and shopping that comes with this hectic season, creating a special gift to show the party host some love sounds overwhelming. But I promise you, it won’t be. With some items you probably have on hand, you can make a batch of homemade Irish cream that will impress any host.

The (585) magazine staff scoured the net to find homemade Irish cream recipes, all of which had the same basic ingredients and instructions—blend the following: half and half or cream, sweetened condensed milk, coffee, chocolate syrup, vanilla, and, of course, a good Irish whiskey. One recipe we tried called for heavy cream, which was a tad thick for our palates. Another had the addition of almond extract, and still another included sweetened cream of coconut.

After trying different iterations, we settled on the following recipe:

Ingredients:

•  1 teaspoon instant coffee

•  1 cup half and half

•  1 14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk

•  1 3/4 cups Irish whiskey (use a full 2 cups if you

like it really boozy)

•  2 tablespoons chocolate syrup

•  1 tablespoon canned sweetened cream of coconut

•  2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Tools/other materials:

•  Measuring cup, measuring spoons, blender, funnel

Tools/other materials:

1.  Measure out half and half.

2.  Add instant coffee to half and half and stir until

dissolved.

3.  Pour into blender, then add remaining ingredi-

ents.

4.  Blend for 30 seconds.

5.  Pour into sterilized glass bottle with topper (a

funnel helps immensely).

This batch makes about 32 ounces of homemade Irish cream.

What you need to make this into a host gift:

Tag or sticker with bottle contents, use-by date (two weeks after bottle date), and instructions to

keep refrigerated. 

Include packages of your favorite coffee and biscotti to further elevate this gift.

This article originally appeared in the November/December 2025 issue of (585).

On a recent work trip to Napa, I had the opportunity to meet several winemakers who all had a similar story to share about this historic wine region. Their words hung in the air like those of a poet when they talked about the pride that goes into perfecting their craft. Our group was given a tour at Continuum with Chiara Mondavi. She spoke passionately about her family’s life work and the challenges that go into farming a land that wants to fight you tooth and nail. But through perseverance, you can win that fight. That resonated with me in a profound way. That is heart and soul.

What does it mean to have a soul? Not a soul like in the human aspect of living, but in an inanimate sort of way. And how do you know you’re in the presence of it? As a sommelier, I love to tell the stories that are shared with me, by the people who touch the grapes which become the wine that I pour into your glass. There is this thought that keeps going through my mind . . . does wine have a soul? It comes to life on the grapevine, growing into a little bulb of water and sugar surrounded by this delicate skin that gets crushed just when it develops its identity. It ferments, and it breathes. It gets punched a number of times, and then it undergoes a radical transformation. It gets the opportunity to take a nap in a barrel or bottle (or both), and it matures. It can age for many years, sometimes making it exponentially better. It is celebrated and its life is meant to impact yours with joy. Then, just like that, it comes to an end, in the bottom of an empty glass.

Coming home, I was inspired to look for similarities in my own back yard, the Finger Lakes. I want to see if we also possess the same philosophy that from the land, the region, the sense of place, the wine can have a soul. I reached out to a couple of friends who have helped to define what the FLX is today. Oskar Bynke, co-owner at Herman J. Wiemer Vineyard, was happy to oblige and when asked if wine could have a soul, he jumps right in.

“The driving force for us is to enjoy wine. In the Finger Lakes, there’s a unique aspect to wine. It is a journey that takes time. The history of this region has old vines that year after year become deeper rooted, allowing them to find themselves and their true identity. In the Finger Lakes, old vines are easily forty-plus years old, which is not the case in most of California. In the 1970s Herman (J. Wiemer) first saw where Riesling and Cabernet Franc could be grown and how it could be established. Over the course of the early 2000s, we started to discover just how special the Magdalena Vineyard microclimate was, producing wines completely different than those from the main HJW Estate which is only ten miles away. The Magdalena grapes have this language to them. And we are seeing how this land allows us to present those grapes in their best way. There’s a certain individuality to that which also grabs onto the site and gradually develops a persona or a soul. I think that’s what we enjoy in the cultural aspect as wine drinkers. You can only consume that place, the geography and the geology through the strength, and the soul of the wine. It’s a character that is built up over time.” 

Rick Rainey, managing partner at Forge Cellars, speaks to this idea in a metaphysical sense, noting, “We define soul as more of a kind of energy and joy.

“When you look at two wines, one made in a more industrial manner versus those made with a handcrafted philosophy, the nose, the taste, the chemical composition of the two can be similar enough to a point, but the wine that was crafted by somebody was a direct reflection of the place they work. The impact on wine is more related to the place and knowing how to cultivate with respect the voice of that place and the land. Big production wine being made in an industrial manner is not wrong, it’s just impossible for them to relate to the place. I believe the great wines of the world all have this soul, this energy and joy, and the one thing in common with them all is they tend to be smaller produced, handcrafted, farmed by people, and made by people.”

Rainey goes on to note a tasting with a Burgundy producer and being so taken with the wines, his feedback to the winemaker was that the wines had an immense vibration to them. “I know that’s not really a tasting note, but they vibrate.” The winemaker just looked at him and smiled assuredly, probably receiving the nicest compliment someone could give to his life’s work. 

When I asked Rainey his thoughts on the current state of the wine industry:

“There have been thirty years of growth globally, and that’s changing now. The bigger brands that drove the market have brought a lot of people into the fold, which is good, but now I think maybe small producers are getting ready to have their moment. I’m seeing that smaller restaurants and retailers are much more interested in talking about wine made by real people. I’m optimistic that people are going to start to pay more attention to the soul of wine, the joy that a hand-crafted wine brings versus a wine that is industrial by nature.”

There is something very personal that I have learned in my career as a sommelier. Wine is a symbol of joy and abundance, which leads to this fusion of the spiritual and physical. These deeper meanings contribute to the wine’s soul and its own vibration of life, possessing the winemaker’s intention, passion, and artistry evident in their final product.

I’ll leave you with this passage from the French poet Charles Baudelaire’s “L’âme du vin,” that reads, “One eve in the bottle sang the soul of wine: Man, unto thee, dear disinherited, I sing a song of love and light divine.”

This article originally appeared in the November/December 2025 issue of (585).

We love a wintery moment. But let’s be honest: Everyone and his dog will be Instagramming themselves with knit caps, flannel, and pumpkin spice latte.

Our fine city has more to offer than coffee and snow. This year, gather your nearest and dearest somewhere that doesn’t require a reservation made in September.

Consider this your unofficial passport to culinary experiences with holiday magic where the lines are shorter, the flavors bolder, and there isn’t an elf hat in sight. Let’s dive in.

A Prohibition-style celebration in Fairport

Bonnie & Clyde

58 S. Main St., Fairport

678-4040

bonnieandclydefairport.com

The Blind Pig at The Deland House

1 E. Church St., Fairport

598-3011

delandonmain.com

For a sophisticated evening that channels Fitzgerald-esque glamour, begin at Bonnie & Clyde. The couple behind the Cub Room runs this restaurant in a meticulously renovated bank building that gleams with brass accents and rich green tones that evoke elegance. It’s an atmosphere that transports you to a New York City soirée circa 1925.

The menu matches the sophisticated surroundings. Start with scallops bathed in panang curry ($22). For mains, the four-meat bolognese ($26) delivers the luxurious comfort that December demands. It blends pork, veal, chicken, and pancetta into a rich sauce that clings perfectly to handmade tagliatelle pasta.

Create an even more intimate experience by booking The Vault, a private dining room inside the inner chamber of the bank, complete with a five-course chef’s tasting menu.

Continue the Gatsby-worthy evening at the Blind Pig across the street at the striking French Chateau–style Deland House. This intimate thirty-seat bar captures the illicit thrill of Prohibition celebrations. The entrance alone is worth the visit, with a false wall at the back of a closet that rises with the push of a button to reveal a hidden staircase, all operating on the original 1924 pulley system.

Inside, the space artfully blends historic elements with contemporary touches. Order one of the variations on classic cocktails from the twenties and thirties, perhaps a properly made Sidecar or French 75, and toast to another exciting year ahead.

Victorian ghosts and artisanal eats downtown

Geva Theatre 

75 Woodbury Blvd.

232-4382

gevatheatre.org

Native

180 S. Clinton Ave.

351-6121

nativerochester.com

While some mark the season with egg-Victorian ghosts and artisanal eats downtown nog, others prefer theirs with a side of Victorian moral reckoning. If you’re like the many who have an annual tradition of stepping through Geva’s iconic burgundy awning for The Christmas Carol, this one’s for you.

Head downtown early and slip into Native, conveniently positioned across the street. Its meat-and-cheese board ($19) perfectly balances local and imported selections, complemented by house-pickled vegetables and toasted bread. For something more substantial, the sourdough pizzas deliver. Opt for the straightforward rossa with pepperoni and cheese ($17) or the veggie-forward verde ($19) territory if your palate craves something more adventurous.

While the holiday ambiance is understated, Native offers straightforward sustenance at prices that won’t make you feel like Scrooge before the show.

Pittsford’s fireside moments

Jojo

60 N. Main St., Pittsford

385-3108

restaurantjojo.com

Pittsford Farms Dairy

44 N. Main St., Pittsford

586-6610

pittsfordfarmsdairy.com

Jojo in the village of Pittsford offers an ambiance reminiscent of a warm cabin. A wood-burning pizza oven scents the air and is noticeable the moment you step through its doors.

Excellent for a larger group, Jojo’s menu has something for everyone. The steak frites ($35) are one of the best deals in town: a ten-ounce sirloin chop served with compound butter and french fries. The crispy calamari ($18) tossed in house made-sweet chili glaze is impossible to resist. And you know any awkward political conversations will pause when the raclette ($16)—thick-cut potato chips smothered in melted gruyère and gorgonzola—hit the table.

Another advantage to skipping the outdoor holiday market scene is the impeccable wine program, which balances domestic bottles from Napa Valley and the Finger Lakes with old-world labels from Italy, Spain, and France. Most are available by the glass ($9-14 for a six-ounce pour), but the four-glass flights ($14–18 each) transform dinner into an experience worth lingering over.

And if you’re still missing out on the relaxing fireside experience, save room for dessert at Pittsford Dairy next door. Beginning in December, the front lawn transforms into a Christmas tree lot. It channels the Scandinavian ideal of coziness with outdoor fire pits, rustic benches draped with blankets, and the intoxicating smell of fresh pine. Adorable baby cows greet visitors from a small stable, while a friendly golden retriever stands guard over rustic ornaments of deer and bears carved from trees. Grab a hot cocoa or an affogato inside and chat the night away by the warmth of flames.

A cinematic experience in the East End

Redd

24 Winthrop St.

483-7333

reddrochester.com

The Little Theatre

240 East Ave.

258-0400

thelittle.org

Elevate your holiday movie game with an upscale dinner and a film. Get the evening started at Redd in the vibrant East End neighborhood.

This stunner from the design team behind some of Manhattan’s finest dining rooms transforms dinner into a metropolitan escape, all while staying firmly planted on Winthrop Street. The elegant zinc bar frames the open kitchen, while white oak and saddle leather banquettes create a warm, contemporary atmosphere against walnut tables. And let’s not forget the incredible food from Michelin-starred chef Richard Reddington. The lobster risotto ($29) is non-negotiable—an equally comforting and decadent dish worth every penny.

After dinner, walk across the parking lot to the Little Theatre, where the art deco building and iconic marquee have been landmarks for generations. During the holidays, the historic indie cinema screens nostalgic classics like Home Alone and Love Actually alongside current blockbusters, such as the latest installment of Dune or the Chronicles of Narnia reboot.

This seamless pairing of fine dining and cultural entertainment offers a perfect dinner-and-a-movie night without the forced festivity.

Morning magic at the Public Market

Rochester Public Market

280 Union St. N.

428-6907

cityofrochester.gov/publicmarket

Cure

50 Rochester Public Market

563-7941

curebar.net

If your crew functions before noon—a revolutionary concept during this busy season—the Public Market offers a festive morning that won’t require reservations made months in advance. Holidays at the Market transforms Sundays in December into an open-air craft fair mixed with a tree farm.

Knock out some gift shopping with vendors carrying everything from sleds and fresh-cut wreaths to jewelry and vintage finds. For that Hallmark movie moment, catch the horse-drawn carriage rides winding through market stalls or let the little ones visit Santa without the mall chaos.

After scoring your Douglas fir and artisanal stocking stuffers, slip into Cure for brunch that puts all others to shame. This locally famous cocktail lounge doubles as a French-inspired bistro. The morning light streaming through café curtains, with the bustling market in full view, creates the kind of cinematic scene memories are made of.

Don’t miss the crème brûlée french toast ($13), which transcends its modest price tag with rich brioche soaked in vanilla custard and dusted with powdered sugar. For savory palates, the blue crab Benedict ($18) might leave you wondering why poached eggs don’t always come on a bed of claw meat.

Depending on your threshold, stick with Java’s coffee and hot chocolate or elevate the experience with Cure’s inventive brunch cocktails. The Community Coffee ($12) blends espresso, vodka, crème de cacao, and sugar into what is essentially adult hot chocolate.

This market-to-brunch morning offers a rare experience that feels both festive and genuine—a reminder that sometimes the most memorable occasions are ones you create while living in the moment.

This article originally appeared in the November/December 2025 issue of (585).

Through more than a century of changing names, owners, and renovations, ROC Cinema has always been a community theater. Built in 1914, the one-room movie theater at the corner of Clinton Avenue and Goodman Street in Rochester has led many lives—traditional live theater, decades of the silver screen, and, more recently, the occasional wedding.

“We knew when we bought the theater, we were going to be more than movies,” owner Kristina Dinino-Jeffords says.

Dinino-Jeffords and her husband took over the theater in 2021, modernizing the once charmingly worn-down movie house into a comfortable and elevated experience which clings tightly to its roots as a neighborhood spot for affordable date nights and family outings. With rolling, oversized office chairs and breakfast-bar-like tables for the theater’s full-service food and bar menu, ROC Cinema hints at the luxury of big-box theaters like Tinseltown in Gates while maintaining an identity that is unmistakably Rochester.

When Dinino-Jeffords, who also owns the Mad Hatter Restaurant and Bakery in Rochester’s Park Avenue neighborhood, bought the theater, she designed it from the top down to incorporate live performances, birthday parties, community events, and corporate conferences.

With a weekly open mic comedy night, quarterly Rocky Horror Picture Show screenings (if you know, you know), and a full season of Buffalo Bills football slated for the theater, it’s clear that ROC Cinema meets a need for a community space at the intersection of artistic performance, sports, and entertainment.

“It’s a unique space, and we want to promote it as that,” Dinino-Jeffords says.

She says leaning into alternative forms of entertainment was a decision of necessity as much as it was a vision for the future of the tiny theater. Overhead costs like licensing for movie screenings make profitability on tickets alone a near impossibility, but mixing in other events, screenings, and performances, alongside food and drink sales, means Dinino-Jeffords gets to keep this century-old pillar of the South Wedge community running.

“That’s a reason why big box theaters ​​sell popcorn for fifteen dollars. It’s how they stay alive,” she says, adding “we are a real bar and a real restaurant.”

In a past life as the Cinema Theater, the space was legendary for its double features and second-run showings. Decades and decades of ticket stubs, branded napkins, and other sentimental litter lived in the theater’s crevices, Dinino-Jeffords says. When she took over the theater, she found boxes of old memorabilia, film reels, and other historical artifacts. Each is given the same spotlight at the theater’s exit: Framed midcentury candy wrappers and napkins sit next to historical photos and old movie theater equipment.

“We are proud to be in this neighborhood,” says Dinino-Jeffords. “We don’t want to go anywhere.”

But the history of the theater dates back to even before the silver screen. When it first opened as the Clinton (then also affectionately called the “Flea Pit” for its iconic dirt floor), the space was predominantly set up for live performances. It wasn’t until about the 1950s that the theater began focusing on movies, Dinino-Jeffords says. Now, she says the theater has come full circle in a way, again offering live performances as the theater balances all of its previous elements to create something truly unique.

“We want people to enjoy themselves and spread out,” Dinino-Jeffords says. “We want them to indulge and have fun.”

Even with calls back to each of the theater’s histories, Dinino-Jeffords says some stalwarts of the South Wedge neighborhood have had a difficult time accepting this new iteration of ROC Cinema. To the holdouts, she says to give the new place a try and see that ROC Cinema is still a theater built specifically with the neighborhood in mind.

“Our air conditioning is always blasting,” she says.

The walk is reasonable to ROC Cinema from most neighborhoods in Rochester’s southeast and southwest quadrants, and a summertime matinee of Shin Godzilla sounded like a great way for me to get the full ROC Cinema experience.

The last showing of the Japanese language film, first released in 2016 but rereleased in the summer in 4K high definition, was sparsely attended. Two groups sat in a sea of about 100 chairs to send off the movie before an upcoming run of director Darren Aronofsky’s Caught Stealing.

To be sure, the American film by an Oscar-nominated director brought more eyeballs than a rerelease of a foreign language horror romp. But a new vision of a ubiquitous intellectual property felt more spiritually connected to the theater itself.

There have been dozens of Godzilla films released since the original in 1954, and each one acts as a touchstone for the ways culture has changed, in Japan and across the world, reflecting the tastes of an ever evolving moviegoing population.

A cold brew coffee from downtown Rochester’s Fuego Coffee Roasters was ushered to a seat in the back right corner of the theater, followed by a made-to-order meal from the theater’s full kitchen. The only other group in the theater was served a feast of popcorn, fresh flatbread pizza, and drinks that would keep anyone satisfied through the two-hour runtime.

As the film played, it was hard not to think of all the other people who sat in this room watching an earlier installment of Godzilla, at an earlier time, in an earlier iteration of the one-room theater that could. roccinema.com

This article originally appeared in the November/December 2025 issue of (585).

At 6:30 a.m., Sunday, July 17, 1949, Mrs.Margaret Wagner called Greece Police and said, “A woman is lying in the grass here at Ridge Road opposite Hoover Drive.” 

Fifteen minutes later, a small lifeless body was found broken in a gully in front of the Wagners’ house, beneath a fir tree, twenty-nine feet from the road. Today, the location is in front of the popular tavern TC Hooligans. 

The body had been placed where it could not be seen by passing cars—but come dawn it was visible to Mrs. Wagner from her living room window.

The body belonged to Mrs. Jennie F. O’Keefe, seventy-three, of Savannah Street, just north of Monroe Avenue in Rochester. A widow, she was a seamstress for Sibley’s and mother of a Rochester policeman. Who would want to kill a little old lady—and in such a horrible way, using her and discarding her?

A break came early in the investigation when a local bartender said he’d seen Mrs.O’Keefe the previous evening getting into a car with a guy named William Draper, a twenty-nine-year-old laborer who lived on Oak Street, a block south of Lyell. Detectives went to brace Draper, but he wasn’t home.

At 5:30 p.m. that same Sunday, two young girls were walking along Mill Road in Greece when they found in quick succession: a woman’s girdle, some beads, a woman’s hat, and a billfold. All but the billfold belonged to Jennie O. That was Draper’s.

The site was four miles from the earlier crime scene. Along Mill Road, deputies found two sets of automobile tracks and a track that could have been made by a body being dragged. The location was remote. No houses within 500 feet. This was where the fatal attack had occurred. 

Detective Bernard Daily and Deputy Leon Mosher went to the Brockport home of Draper’s mother, Mrs. Cornelia Chapman. 

“He was here this morning with his wife and three kids,” the mom said. “They left, headed for friends in the Town of Sweden.”

She didn’t know the address, but she knew their name, so Daily looked it up in the phone book.

And that was where the Law caught up with Draper. He was efficiently separated from his wife and kids and placed unceremoniously in the back seat of a cop car. Fifteen hours after the body was discovered, police had their man.

Draper was taken to the Monroe County morgue where he was questioned by Greece Police Chief Milton Carter.

“I got no idea what you’re talking about,” Draper said stubbornly. He was nervous. This wasn’t the police station, and he knew it. Sure enough, the lawmen played their trump card. They pulled out the big drawer and showed him the raped and beaten corpse of Jennie O’Keefe, tag on toe.

Draper began to blubber.

“Draper, how do you know this woman?” asked fiery-eyed Chief Carter.

“I d-d-don’t,” Draper stammered.

“Where’s your billfold, Draper?”

“I, I don’t know. I lost it.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Three, four days ago.”

Chief Carter pulled out the billfold, and Draper’s entire body slumped.

“You dropped it last night, Draper. We got you cold. Tell us, how did you know this woman?” Chief Carter asked, gesturing to the pitiful beaten body of the old woman.

“I met Jennie at Joseph Izzo’s Grill,” Draper said. Police knew that to be a joint at Lake Avenue and Spencer Street.

“You met her in a bar?”

“That’s right. I met her on Saturday morning, and she told me to return that evening, at which time she wanted me to take her home.”

If this conversation actually occurred, Jennie—a recent widow, long-married to a livery driver—did not mean what Draper thought she meant.

“What did you do all of that Saturday?” the chief asked.

“I was at my home on Oak Street. Part of the time I was working on my car with Bobby McMahon. Lives on Spencer Street.”

Cops verified this.

“Then my kid cut his lip, so I had to take him to the emergency for stitches.” 

These events were also easily verified.

“After that?”

“I was ready to unwind so I went to a grill on Lyell Avenue, and I had a few drinks.”

“Get cocked?”

“No, just a few. I went home for supper, then picked up Mrs. O’Keefe in my car and drove her to Izzo’s. When we reached the corner of Savannah and George streets, Mrs. O’Keefe announced that she didn’t want to go to Izzo’s. She wanted to go for a ride.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I took her for a ride.”

“Where’d you go?”

“I took her out on Mill Road in Greece. I found a spot and parked, made my move,and she wouldn’t go for it.”

“What did you do?”

“I hit her a few times.”

“With what?”

“My fists.”

“Then what?”

“I dragged her out of the car and laid her out,” so he could continue his attack. When that was done, she was unconscious, so he carried her back into the car.

“I drove around for two hours before I realized she wasn’t breathing, that she was dead. I swear. I kept waiting for her to wake up.”

“What did you do once you realized you’d killed her?”

“I got scared. I stopped the car on Ridge Road and carried her body from the car. After that I drove to a service station on Long Pond Road and purchased a gallon of gasoline and a quart of oil. Then I went home.”

The autopsy on Mrs. O’Keefe’s body was conducted by coroner’s physician Dr. Floyd S. Winslow, who concluded that the beating had been thorough and was the cause of death.

“The entire body was brutally beaten,” Dr. Winslow reported. There were multiple contusions and abrasions over the entire body, shock, cerebral concussion, and multiple rib fractures. “She had been clawed, punched, and kicked,” the pathologist noted. “She had six fractured ribs, a crushed nose, a cerebral contusion, and bruises over the entire trunk of her body. There were more than 100 bruises over both breasts.”

Blood tests were done and determined that, at the time of her death, Mrs. O’Keefe had not been drinking excessively. Time of death was set at 4 a.m. on Sunday morning, two hours after the bars closed.

Investigators learned that Draper was a World War II vet—North Africa and Italy—although he did go AWOL. He had a surprisingly loving wife, Mabel, and three boys.

In jail, Draper paced like the caged animal he was, chain-smoking cigarettes. Draper’s wife came to the jail, distraught. Reporters cornered her and she said that she planned to stick with her man.

“He suffered a head injury in the army,” she said. “Sometimes it makes him act odd. He has a metal plate in his head.” (It turned out that this was not true. There was no plate. But Draper had told his wife that story, and she believed him.)

“Did he get the injury in the war?”

“Well, he said he got it in North Africa, but he never said in so many words that he got hurt in combat,” she replied.

“What did he say about his injury?”

“He didn’t really talk about it, but he gets headaches a lot, and that was when he would complain about it. It seemed to get even worse when he was drinking a lot.”

On July 20, following private funeral services at the John C. Morgan Funeral Home on Hudson Avenue, a Requiem Mass was celebrated in St. Joseph’s Church on Franklin Street, after which Jennie O’Keefe’s body was transported to Holy Sepulchre Cemetery on Lake Avenue for burial.

On August 2, Draper was arraigned before Peace Justice Arthur Rickman of Greece. During the hearing, the justice read a letter written by a psychiatrist, Dr. William Libertson of Goodman Street North, who’d examined Draper for an hour and a half in jail and concluded that he suffered from dementia praecox, paranoid type. Draper had been hallucinating and having delusions for more than a year, so it was reasonable to assume that he was mentally ill at the time of the murder as well, Dr. Libertson said. Draper, he added, didn’t understand why he was in jail and was incapable of helping his own defense at trial.

After the hearing, Draper was transferred from the Monroe County Jail to the Rochester State Hospital for mental examinations. The psychiatrists who examined Draper reported that he was good to go for his murder trial. He was returned to the Monroe County Jail.

His trial was presided over by Judge James P. O’Connor, and caused quite the sensation, with the star witness being Mabel Draper, who testified that her marriage was no picnic.

“He’d accuse me of having affairs that he made up,” Mabel testified.

“Has he ever threatened you with physical harm?” Mr. Lacey for the defense asked.

“Yes. He threatened me with a revolver.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Not quite a year.”

“Were there other times?”

“Yes, on another occasion he said he was going to use a shotgun on me, but I managed to talk him out of it.”

The trial boiled down to a battle of the psychiatrists. The prosecution said Draper knew right from wrong. The defense said that was not always true. The lawyers gave the jury refreshingly brief closing statements.

Draper’s defense attorney sounded defeated as he said, “The People have offered proof to the effect that the defendant was very intimately connected with this homicide, there is no question about it. They have proved that. And they have proved that he was the killer, although no man living today knows what happened at the scene of that homicide.”

Judge James P. O’Connor charged the jury, a process that took a little over at hour, and sent the panel to the jury room to do their work.

On Thursday, April 24, after a nano-second of deliberation, Draper was pronounced guilty.

“Do you recommend that his life be spared?” Judge O’Mara asked.

“We do not,” the jury foreman said firmly.

The judge sentenced Draper to death in the electric chair.

The convicted man was ordered to be taken immediately to the Death House at Sing Sing, where Draper had a date to sit in the lap of Ol’ Sparky. A heavily shackled Draper, with two deputies as escorts, took a train to Ossining, N.Y. When he arrived, he was given the Number 13.

Before he could be electrocuted, there were more appeals to get through. But eventually, the day came. For his last meal, Draper wanted ice cream.

On July 23, 1953, the now thirty-three-year-old Draper walked silently to the electric chair and took a seat. As he’d taken up Catholicism while in jail, he was accompanied by Father Thomas Donovan. He was strapped into the chair at 11:01 p.m. and was pronounced dead three minutes later.

This article originally appeared in the November/December 2025 issue of (585).