La Caridad Restaurant 2 on Amsterdam Avenue. (Photo by Ines Perez)

Altagracia Marrero sits in the empty dining room of her Washington Heights restaurant, La Caridad Restaurant 2. Dominican food – “moro,” rice with black beans; “pollo asado,” roast chicken; “mondongo,” tripe soup – sits untouched on the steam table. Latin music drifts from the jukebox as she toys with a plastic rosary around her neck.

“Imagine, I’ve been in this business for over 20 years,” she says in Spanish.

Until recently, La Caridad was a busy 24-hour neighborhood hangout for people seeking classic Dominican dishes and drinks. But in May, after a number of noise and loitering complaints, the restaurant’s liquor license was revoked. This afternoon, most of the tables sit empty and only a few loyal regulars drop by.

At a Community Board 12 general meeting last month, Marrero’s appeal for support for license renewal was denied. The 33^rd Police Precinct objected to the renewal, citing 83 criminal court summonses at La Caridad in the past year, according to a report by the Economic Development committee. The report also notes that one of Marrero’s former security guards was a convicted felon and that a near-stabbing occurred in February when “a knife was pulled on a bartender.” Moreover, during a joint operation by the precinct and the state liquor authority, an undercover agent was served alcohol after hours.

Community Board 12 Manhattan District Manager Ebenezer Smith didn’t remember specific complaints about La Caridad, but agreed with the board’s decision. “If you do not obey the law, you need to suffer the consequences,” he said.

But Marrero denied the report’s allegations. She hadn’t received 83 summonses, she argued, but 13, all but one dismissed in court.

“I think 83 is an exaggeration,” said Francisco Serrano, Marrero’s attorney, adding that it would be unusual for any establishment to receive that many summonses before officials took action. Moreover, Serrano affirmed Marrero’s claim of receiving only 13 summonses, with 12 dismissed.

The 33^rd Precinct’s community affairs office, contacted for comment, did not respond.

Serrano also questioned the timing of the summonses, which the police began issuing in March, not long before her renewal came up in May. “Two or three years, no calls,” he said. “When the license needs to be renewed, they go to the business, they give you tickets.”

Required warning notices displayed in the restaurant. (Photo by Ines Perez)

Marrero was arrested on April 23 for off-hour liquor sale and appeared in criminal court on May 25. The case was adjourned in contemplation of dismissal, Serrano said. Representatives from the precinct didn’t attend the hearing.

This wasn’t the first time the New York State Liquor Authority came after Marrero. Division of Alcoholic Beverage Control records show Marrero received a civil penalty in 2007 for serving alcohol after 4 a.m. and paid a $6000 fine.

Marrero is quick to defend her business’ reputation. When problems arise in her restaurant, she said, she’s the first to call the police. She serves drinks in Styrofoam cups to prevent bottle fights.

Marrero, 56, moved to the United States 31 years ago and has lived and worked in Washington Heights ever since. She began working as a manager at La Caridad in 1991 and took over the restaurant in 1994.

“It’s an injustice, what they’re doing to her,” Oscar Mendoza, 60, said in Spanish. One of several regulars who voiced their support, he described La Caridad as a family business and said he comes for its “famous” café con leche and to buy lottery tickets. He has known Marrero for 20 years and doesn’t recall any major incidents inside La Caridad. “On the streets, but not in the business,” he said.

“She’s got a lot of years here,” added Juan Fernandez, 30. Having known Marrero for 15 years, he says of the restaurant, “it’s legit.”

Although it wasn’t highly profitable, Marrero said before she lost her liquor license she was able to pay her bills – roughly $8000 a month plus food and utilities – and live comfortably. Since then, Marrero has had to lay off most of her employees and negotiate payment plans to cover rent and electricity. “Now I don’t know who to ask for money to pay rent.”

Marrero believes most of the complaints came from disgruntled customers retaliating for being told to leave the restaurant. Asked about the “near stabbing,” although she was not present, she said the customer had been asked to leave after behaving inappropriately towards a female customer. He then threatened to punch the cashier and waved a knife at him. Marrero added that when employees called her, she ran to the restaurant and called the police.

Marrero is appealing the revocation. “If merited, the Liquor Authority may be inclined to overturn the disapproval, based on new information brought to our attention that may compel us to overturn our original decision,” said Michael R. Smith, public affairs officer for the New York State Liquor Authority.

Serrano believes there is a good chance Marrero will succeed in having her license reinstated. “It would be very sad, after all these years, to have to close the place,” Marrero said.

Dominican baseball fans flock to restaurants in Washington Heights on game nights to watch their sports heroes play. La Caridad, shown, is located at 2184 Amsterdam Ave. (Photo by Shane Snow)

Consider the places in Manhattan where contentious foreigners can set aside their differences and sit down together for a common cause. One is 3 United Nations Plaza, where the pursuits include diplomacy and human rights. A lesser known spot is La Caridad Restaurant at 168th and Amsterdam, where the common causes are beer and baseball, at least every time the Dominican heroes of the Yankees or the Red Sox are on the field.

Two camareras (waitresses) in gold embroidered red shirts of two baristas serve Coronas to the 20 men staring at the flat screens in the corners. Golden brews share table space with bowls of peanuts and tall glasses of morir soñando, a Dominican drink made from orange juice cut with milk. Pink fluorescent lights cast a rosy hue on the brick facade above the bar; mirrored walls make a full-capacity La Caridad appear twice as large as it is.

It’s a Friday night, and the Yankees, just a few days after securing a playoff berth, are squaring off against hated Boston at Yankee Stadium. La Caridad’s patrons sit glued to the game.

Trilling bachata plays in the background, interrupted by jubilant screams of “Ai!” and equally fanatical shouts of “No!” A-Rod has just hit a two-run homer in the third inning, breaking the Yankee’s stadium record of 126 home runs, according to STATS LLC.

Fans come almost every time their teams are playing, says Joanny de Jesus, a La Caridad employee.

“In they day they don’t come, not so much,” de Jesus says in mingled Spanish and English. But at night, especially during the playoffs, regulars swarm in to watch Dominican heroes like Alex Rodriguez and Pedro Martinez break bats and steal bases.

“We’re born and raised with baseball,” Fabio Hernandez explains in Spanish, slouching in a wooden chair in the corner, sipping his Corona. “From childhood all we Dominicans participate.”

Washington Heights, home to a large Dominican immigrant population, has produced a number of famous major and minor league baseball players, including Dodgers star Manny Rodriguez and Yankees power hitter Alex Rodriguez. But the spectators at La Caridad aren’t just interested in neighborhood sons; they love Robinson Cano, Vladimir Carrero, David Ortiz and anyone else with roots from the Dominican Republic, says Angel Colon.

Colon, fresh from his finance job downtown, sports a pinstripe suit and sits next to Ramon Neri, a former boxer who says his favorite is Mets shortstop Jose Reyes, another acclaimed player from the DR.

Being paisanos (countrymen) doesn’t make everyone in the neighborhood friends, but the games seem to bring people together, Colon says.

“There’s a lot of people here that don’t like each other,” says Colon. “They don’t get along, but they sit at the same table. And the minute the game is over it’s like whoosh – everybody just leaves.”

With David “Big Papi” Ortiz slugging for the Red Sox and A-Rod crushing homers for the Yankees, it’s not hard to see the division in this crowd, which mostly watches the game in silence until a big play. During commercials, the men talk and jeer at each other, but settle back into rapt attention when play resumes.

The Yankees win 9-5. The crowd gets up with one last exultation or mumble of chagrin, and leaves. They’ll be back again Friday to see the Yankees versus the Angels in game one of the American League Championship Series.