Meet The Crew

 The patron saint of deli burnouts and accidental wisdom, Bobby Silverman is the lovable, awkward heart of Jew York Jew York. A chubby, bearded hillbilly Jew who got stuck in the city after catching the wrong train on a rainy night, Bobby’s been making the best of bad sandwiches and worse decisions ever since.

Bobby’s the type to dream big but settle fast—whether it’s betting the Knicks ML every week or chasing expired Boom Bobby deals. Beneath the flannel, sports hat, and crumpled parlay slips is a guy just looking for belonging in a world that’s chewing him up one deli counter at a time.

Despite the sarcasm from Benjewman, the rants from Uncle Randy, and the chaos that follows him like pigeons to a knish cart, Bobby stays loyal to his crew—and maybe, deep down, hopes Jew York is the home he never thought he needed. 

 A washed-up folk singer who peaked in ‘85 and never lets anyone forget it. Randy is Bobby Silverman’s jaded uncle, still rocking the same flannel, still humming the same half-finished songs, and still betting on the Knicks like they haven’t been breaking his heart for decades.

Once the frontman of a band that “almost opened for Billy Joel,” Randy now spends his days chain-smoking outside the bodega, giving unsolicited life advice, and blaming deli owners for ruining his tour. Beneath the cynicism and Boom Bobby-fueled rants, Randy hides a soft spot for Bobby and the crew—though he’ll never admit it out loud.

Some say he’s the “voice of reason,” but most days he’s just the voice you hear mumbling in the corner about “the one that got away.” 

 The big-hearted, delivery truck-driving older brother you didn’t ask for but got anyway. Kevy works for his family’s delivery business, slinging boxes of Boom Bobby and deli supplies all over Jew York—usually while getting roped into Bobby’s half-baked schemes.

Kevy is the older brother of Benjewman Potts, though you’d never guess it from how much younger he acts. Always ready with a dopey grin and a six-pack of Boom Bobby, Kevy’s the kind of guy who’ll help you move a couch, loan you twenty bucks, and then forget why he came over in the first place.

Despite his size, Kevy is soft as knish filling and fiercely loyal to the crew—especially Bobby. He’s the dependable but dim “muscle” of the group, and whether behind the wheel of his beat-up delivery truck or stuck in deli line purgatory, Kevy’s always happy to be here. 

 Jew York’s resident pessimist with a heart of gold buried under layers of flannel and eye-rolls. Benjewman is Bobby’s low-key rival and unlikely friend, constantly dreaming of ditching Jew York for Jew Mexico, where the sun supposedly shines brighter and the deli debts don’t follow you.

Raised in a losing-town mentality, Benjewman’s childhood was spent watching his dad lose parlay after parlay betting on the Mets. Now, he’s stuck feeling like Jew York is one big dead-end street. Despite his sarcastic jabs and constant plotting to leave, deep down, Benjewman has a soft spot for Bobby—even if he’d rather choke on a Boom Bobby than admit it.

Somewhere beneath the grumpy smirk and constant grumbling is a kid just trying to find his way out… or maybe his way back in. 

. The crew’s quietest member, EJ rarely speaks—but when he does, it’s game over. Always posted up in the background, arms crossed, and observing, EJ lets Bobby and the rest run their mouths while he calculates every move like a chess player on a busted stoop.

His nickname “Slick” comes from his pops, a legendary (but mostly forgotten) buzzer-beater from the old Jew York Pacers days. Word is, his dad once hit a half-court shot and then disappeared into deli folklore. EJ carries that calm, clutch energy—whether he’s dodging pigeons, getting Bobby out of a jam, or sipping a Boom Bobby like it’s fine wine.

Cool under pressure, stone-faced in nonsense—EJ is Mr. Chill when the streets of Jew York get too loud. 

 Half-Hispanic, half-Italian, and fully fed up. Nik is a grumpy, street-tough Army vet who somehow found himself part of Bobby Silverman’s misfit crew. Rocking camo like he’s still stationed somewhere and stomping around Jew York in work boots, Nik’s always prepared for chaos—even if it’s just Bobby screwing up another deli order.

Nik rarely talks about his military days, but you can tell by the way he scans every corner store like it’s enemy territory. He’s the crew’s unspoken security guard, the guy who’ll bark at pigeons or dive in front of Bobby when the corner boys start throwing Boom Bobby cans.

Despite his salty attitude, Nik’s got a soft spot for the crew—though you’re more likely to hear him mutter “I hate you guys” as he saves their butts… again. 

 Slicker than a slice of corner-store pizza, Eli is a fast-talking, fast-walking member of the White Trash Sopranos, a rival crew across the borough. Sporting a leather jacket two sizes too big and enough attitude to fuel a deli feud, Eli’s the kid who thinks he’s got the whole block figured out.

Raised under the shadow of his old-school mob-wannabe dad, Eli spends his days bouncing between bad schemes and worse ideas—usually involving how to “can” the Boom Bobby operation once and for all.

Despite always bumping heads with Bobby’s crew, Eli’s got a strange history with them, and deep down, you can tell he’s less villain and more “pissed-off neighbor kid who never got invited to the barbecue.”

Rumor has it he’s also surprisingly soft when no one’s looking—especially around old stray cats and his mom’s lasagna. 

 The smooth operator of the crew, Benny is that laid-back friend who somehow knows everyone in Jew York—but no one really knows him. Whether strumming his guitar on a busted stoop or quietly hustling a gig behind the bodega, Benny is all charm and chill vibes.

He’s got roots on both sides of the city, half musician, half street hustler, and fully allergic to drama (even though it follows him everywhere). His signature beanie and thick-rimmed glasses never come off, and you’ll usually catch him leaning against the wall with a Boom Bobby in hand, cracking dry one-liners while chaos swirls around him.

While Bobby’s the lovable burnout, Benny’s the guy who somehow skates through the nonsense—cool, collected, and always two steps ahead. 

 The Rooftop Sinatra

Frankie Silverman is the smooth-talking, old-school ghost who haunts the rooftop of Schmuck’s Deli. A relic of a bygone era, Frankie’s got the charm of Sinatra, the hustle of a streetwise bookie, and the attitude of a guy who knows where all the bodies—and bagels—are buried. Donning his signature Chicago Cubs hat and a faded vest, Frankie floats between worlds, whispering warnings, unsolicited life advice, and the occasional deli order from the afterlife.

Rumor has it Frankie ran numbers out of Schmuck’s back in the day and caught one too many cold cuts to the chest before becoming part of the deli’s permanent staff. Now, he watches over the neighborhood like a blue-collar ghost consigliere—tough but loyal, slick but sentimental. 

 The Biscuit Brawler

Big Sandy is the no-nonsense ghost matriarch of the Jew York rooftops. She’s a force of nature with the hairstyle of a WWF Nasty Boy and the attitude of someone who once ran a greasy spoon where fists and frying pans flew in equal measure. Draped in a battered leather jacket and a diner apron that reads “Biscuits & Gravy,” Big Sandy serves tough love and tougher lariats from beyond the grave.

Once the feared short-order cook and enforcer for Schmuck’s Deli (and its off-the-books rooftop fight club), Sandy’s spirit lingers, making sure no one disrespects the old ways—or her biscuits. A ghost who’s quicker to serve an ass-whoopin’ than a side of hashbrowns, she’s the muscle behind Frankie’s rooftop watch. If you hear the clatter of phantom cookware or smell sausage gravy with a hint of cigarette smoke, you know Sandy’s near. 

 The Perfectionist Phantom

Stanley Jewbrick is the eccentric ghost cousin of Randy, forever trapped between creative genius and rooftop purgatory. Once a self-proclaimed auteur from Queens, Stanley’s been “working” on Randy’s deli commercial since 1985—and still insists it’s almost ready for release. Draped in a tattered NYU Film School hoodie and clutching a vintage camcorder, Stanley roams the rooftop muttering about “framing” and “cinematic truth” to anyone who’ll listen.

With wild hair, a scruffy beard, and eyes that flicker between manic inspiration and total burnout, Stanley is a ghost caught between ambition and procrastination. Some nights, he’s rallying Bobby and Frankie to help “scout shots,” other nights, he’s whispering, “You can’t rush greatness, kid,” as he drifts back into the shadows.

Whether you see him as a rooftop visionary or a haunted relic of unfinished dreams, one thing’s certain—Jewbrick is the patron spirit of every passion project that never quite got off the ground.