In 1982 the door was locked here, and for twenty-five years everything stayed exactly where it stood. When a niece of the old landlady opened it again in 2008, the interior needed little more than dusting and repair. That makes this the one café in the city where you are looking straight at the nineteen sixties.
It starts with the ceiling, where hundreds of cut-off ties hang. , who took the place over from her uncle in 1927 and swapped the name De Amstelstroom for 't Mandje, cut the tie off any guest who talked too big and hung it above the bar. They were still there when the door closed, and they are still there now.
Behind the tap stands a porcelain owl with a small lamp inside it. Bet would light it the moment she spotted a plain-clothes policeman coming in, so that everybody knew where they stood without a word being said. Who those guests were, and why they needed warning, is a story of its own, and it belongs to our walk through the city's gay emancipation history.
The name comes from the basket in which Bet's mother brought her food every day. About as homely as a brown café gets.
As we step outside, we follow the Zeedijk to its end, where the opens up in front of you with the in the middle.
Sources. Story: https://www.amsterdam.nl/stadsarchief/canon-amsterdam-2008/1927-cafe-mandje/ and https://www.nhnieuws.nl/nieuws/25306/cafe-t-mandje-weer-open-op-zeedijk Photos: Stadsarchief Amsterdam
