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There used to be an apartment building on that spot. But like so many in the 70s it was abandoned and demolished. Well, actually not demolished, but collapsed. It's still under there. Home to, no exaggeration, a million rats. I used to own a cafe next door c. 1997, they gnawed through everything. The rats were so bad on 1st Street at that time, if you were walking down the street it was more than a slight possibility one would run up your leg.That spot was a real communal neighborhood spot. Lots of real art by local artists. I remember a Malcom X carved into a telephone pole. It was great. There was a guy who lived in the building next door named Manny who took care of it and did weird kinds of installations. It was great. We used it for barbecues. There was a Puerto Rican abuela on the block that used cook for a giant block party every year to thank her patron saint. I remember salsa dancing with my buddy named Cisco. It was like a dream. That's how it was.I always used to say to my husband that we should take possession through a legal concept known as Adverse Possession. I actually went to Harvard Law School and dropped out of Big Law to open that cafe. It was a great little spot. We used to feed the Catholic Workers from across the street and next to the Catholic Workers there was a guy known as the Cat Man. On weekends he would play electric guitar dressed in a cat suit in the window of his store - with a light show.The EV used to really be a great place to live. That was like the absolute last gasp. It hasn't been fun in a long time, and what the Guggenheim did there was an abomination.
thank you for that post starzstylista. can we print out 30 copies and tape it all over that rotting carcass they've so graciously left in their departure?
Here is a pic of the Malcom X sculpture starzstylista mentions:http://www.flickr.com/photos/goggla/160445459/I loved walking past this lot and seeing the new artworks.
Also the caretaker's name was Matty not Manny. Respect.
Goggia - Thanks for the photo. This was old EV: The key is at the gas station. Perfect.
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