
A reader told us that they arrived today on the west side of the Avenue … check back tomorrow for our comprehensive review…
Meanwhile, remember not to litter…
McMillan, a decorated Vietnam War veteran, cites his war-related post-traumatic stress disorder and other medical issues — including memory loss and high blood pressure — as reasons for seeking help from APS. The stress of the long legal battle with his landlord and the looming threat of eviction brought back old battle wounds, he says. "I almost had a nervous breakdown," McMillan, 68, tells the Voice. He even called the suicide hotline.
According to his attorney, John DeMaio, McMillan turned to APS after "all other legal remedies had been exhausted." A "renowned" doctor, whose name DeMaio did not disclose, examined McMillan and recommended the court's intervention in delaying the eviction.
McMillan, whose family has occupied the apartment since 1977, claims the eviction is "racist" because he and his family are the only African Americans living in the building. Lisco Holdings purchased the building from its previous owners in 2006.
UNESSENTIAL CINEMA PRESENTS: THE RECKONING OF PAC LAB
Anthology Film Archives
Thursday, March 12 @ 7:30pm
The echoing conversation about the death of film is endless and depressing, as is the recent demise of our longtime neighbor on E. 1st St., the esteemed and notorious Pac Lab. Like them or hate them, and there was no in-between, Pac Lab was a true NYC staple, as well as the last local resource we had for same-day processing of Super-8mm and 16mm film. Over the years Pac Lab proved itself to be a company that possessed as much character and quirkiness as its clients.
They catered to artists, students, and even everyday folks looking to transfer their parents’ home movies to video. Being a Pac Lab client often involved an element of risk, with anxious patrons left to wonder: Will my film come back scratched? Will there be any image? Will it come back at all?
In any case, they were a key component and longtime enabler of our regional filmmaking community. Without them, we are forced to face the end of celluloid film much sooner than most of us ever expected.
This unique event will offer up a baker’s dozen of film reels and tapes culled from the remnants of Pac Lab’s significant detritus. Anthology has inherited boxes and bags of films that were submitted for processing, but abandoned by clients who never paid or picked up their footage.
Uncatalogued and entirely unseen by us, our educated guess is that these reels contain copious examples of student film shenanigans, home movies, stoned experiments, attempted art projects, and probably a naked girlfriend or two. For this special show we guarantee that no films will be previewed beforehand and that all selections shall be made blindly and without prejudice. Soundtracks and other alterations may be added to enhance entertainment potential. If you think that one of these reels might be yours, then please join us for your world premiere screening!
FREE for Anthology members
Name: Stephen Shanaghan (pictured left), Arnoldo Caballero
Occupation: Owners, Pangea Restaurant
Location: Pangea, 2nd Avenue between 11th and 12th Street
Time: Wednesday, Feb. 18 at 5:30 p.m.
Picking up at the end of Part 1 … where Shanaghan and Caballero were discussing the success they had with La Spaghetteria on East Seventh Street near Avenue A in the 1980s…
Stephen: That’s why we were able to open this second location [Pangea] soon after because we had money coming in. La Spaghetteria was open from around from ’84 through ’96, when the low-carb thing was in, which is when we basically changed to a more Mediterranean-based menu for Pangea. It was by fate in ’86 we just discovered this location on Second Avenue and Stephen said, "Lets just take a place and see what happens."
Arnoldo: It was just unbelievable. We had the drug dealers and the prostitutes and the fights and the police. It was constant. But we also had… it was just magic. There was hardly anything around here. We had Eileen’s Bar across the street, which was really amazing. John’s was, of course, around the corner. Iso had just opened, the Japanese restaurant on the corner. By 9 p.m. it was just absolutely desolate. It was just all the girls working.
S: This was a big circuit for prostitution. The cars would kind of do the block between Second and Third Avenue and they would just keep circling — a lot of Jersey plates. One of the things that was taking place was a house of prostitution. This was the late ‘80s, I think. The first one was run by this very powerful Korean woman.
A: They used to leave the windows open and walk topless so you could see them from the street. And they had a tremendous business.
S: But I guess they were involved in other things besides just prostitution, so they were getting raided. Just to give you an example of how bad it got: One night I was hosting and I just stepped outside to get some air and all of a sudden cop cars came from both directions on 2nd Avenue, pulling onto the sidewalk with rifles. They broke the front door of the building and they ran upstairs and they came out and they had people handcuffed. They confiscated guns. It was wild.
A: I turned on the TV and this woman was found dead in New Jersey and they were looking for the killer and on the TV was the front of Pangea. Instead of showing upstairs, they showed us.
S: It was really interfering with the business. During the raids they would come down here and hide. One night I came back in and there was a table of 14 skimpily clad girls having frozen drinks. I mean, they were dressed but they were in like bathrobes.
A: You had all these naked women here. They would drink their frozen piña coladas. The girls at one point — because we were so stupid, so naïve, so young ... would come and sit at the bar, order a cocktail and then their "boyfriends" would come and meet them. And then they’d disappear to the bathroom.
S: One of our customers at the time was a local city council member. And I said, "Look I need your help, I need a lawyer." So we got this politician involved and we hired a law firm, a retainer fee of $10k to start. We finally got them out and then the landlord had the space renovated and was rented to a "legitimate manufacturing company," a 9 to 5.
It turns out it was a 9 to 5. It was the Italian prostitution house that used to be on 12th Street that moved up there. That one it took a long time to get out. This all happened over a period of about seven years.
A: Pangea has always been a place where we’ve built long-lasting friendships. We’ve had the same friends and colleagues and customers for years and years. The one thing about them is the relentless support that they have for us regardless of what we do. Pangea means "all earth," based on a Greek word. It represents us because it’s where community collides. We’re a place where people come together.
S: We’ve always supported the artists. I always try to support local artists in any way possible because I think that’s an important aspect of any business in a neighborhood. We worked with so many and some of them became famous. Some of them passed away during the AIDS epidemic. It’s been more than just a restaurant. It’s not just serving food. We’ve always been a community-based restaurant. I remember, there was a painter, David Wojnarowicz, who back then hadn’t been completely discovered, and he came in and asked if he could eat in exchange for a painting and Arnoldo said, "Oh, no no no, you can come in and eat anytime you want." And in hindsight you should have taken the painting. We could have bought the building.
We recently had the entire place painted with a mural [“Pictographic” Modern Hieroglyphs] by Jody Morlock. Jody is a regular customer here and she knew that we had regular rotating artists. She asked, "What do you think about doing a mural?" She got the idea because another neighborhood artist painted the ceiling panel above the bar, which was a cool installation put in two years ago by William Engel. The mural has completely transformed the front room. It’s interactive and it start conversations. Adjacent tables start talking, and everybody sees things differently.
A: People create their own stories, their own myths. It creates a narrative within the room.
S: We also started Café Noctambulo, an intimate music supper club in the room at the back of Pangea late last June. We started with a performer Eric Comstock, once a week. We’ve been kind of selective with who we have come in. We haven’t yet assumed a full schedule back there. We want to make sure that the room gets full. We had Andy Bey and that’s when The New York Times saw it, so that kind of put us on the map for that. There’s that need in this area for a small, intimate room where you can go and perform in. It’s mostly just piano and vocals. We’re trying to keep it to that, almost like a supper club. A lot of artists prefer it as kind of a launching space. It’s an intimate space and I think the artists feel like they can take chances a little bit and test their audience.
A lot of that has changed in the neighborhood. It’s that aspect of being able to connect with people. NYU is my alma mater but what they’ve done to the neighborhood by putting up all these dorms is that it’s made it very transient, where students come in every semester, three or four to every apartment, or in one of the dorm spaces, and then they’re gone.
So little by little we’ve seen many people move out, whether they have to because of financial reasons or their lives change. So that aspect of being able to tap into that permanency of people living here is not so easy anymore because people are not permanent. It’s not as easy for us to build a regular base for us because of the transience.
I'm curious about the legality of these crews taking over the street hours before the time posted on these no parking posters. For example, this poster says no parking after 10 p.m. on Tuesday. It's only just after noon and already the cones are blocking drivers from parking on the street and there's a parking guard out here directing people away. What gives?
[T]he middle-market player is getting squeezed between low-cost options like Planet Fitness and more expensive, specialty chains like Equinox, Soul Cycle and Life Time Fitness.
“Town Sports has great real estate, but it is the wrong model and brand,” said one industry source.
The chain has some time to improve its bottom line — about two years at its current cash burn.
To celebrate the release of their new, long-playing record album, "Freedom Tower - No Wave Dance Party 2015," the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion will be bringing their brand of high-octane street hassling back home, with an unprecedented Five Borough Freedom Tour!
The Blues Explosion will be leveling neighborhoods in Brooklyn, The Bronx, Manhattan, Queens and Staten Island the week of March 23 to 28, including free shows at dive bars, breweries and beyond!
FIVE BOROUGH FREEDOM TOUR:
Mon Mar 23 - Staten Island, Liedy's Shore Inn
Mar 24 - Manhattan, Cake Shop
Mar 25 - Jersey City, WFMU's Monty Hall
Mar 26 - Brooklyn, Hank's Saloon
Fri Mar 27 - The Bronx, The Point
Sat Mar 28 - Queens, Singlecut Brewery
You can get a free pair of tickets to one of the above shows with the purchase of the record from Other Music, Turntable Lab, Vintage Vinyl, or Insound. For more details, head over here.
“Landlords will kill you,” Casey says, chuckling. He has had a few run-ins with his landlady this past years, but that’s all sorted out now. “Bureaucracies will kill you. Typical hates of any small business.”
The rising rents are certainly a cause of concern for Casey, but the small-business owner, who learned most of what he knows on his own, hopes to stick around. Despite the headaches of running a small business, Casey can’t imagine closing down or selling out, even if someone walked in and offered to buy it at a good price.
“Why would I? What am I going to do? It’s like winning the lottery,” he says. “What would I do tomorrow morning? Get new friends?”
The same exact neon sign that hung for several decades now has a face lift and is ready to shine bright for many more years to come. And, before you ask us, yes that is the exact same Neon sign. The only difference is we painted the back using the same color as before.
The space will look exactly the same. Colors, floor and all! In fact, our replication architect is hard at work making sure our new home will be nearly identical. Also, our prices will not change.
Small businesses in New York City have no rights. You’ve been here 50 years and provide an important service? Tough luck — your space now belongs to Dunkin’ Donuts. You own a beloved, fourth-generation, century-old business? Get out — your landlord’s putting in a combination Chuck E. Cheese and Juicy Couture.
And despite de Blasio’s rhetorical fears about gentrification, his progressive pro-development push may well only hasten the trend.
She was one of 12 children. In 1979, at age 15, she left her parents and the world she knew behind to cross illegally into the United States. It was a last-minute decision. An older sister had backed out after the family had paid $550 per person to a coyote (an expert — or profiteer — at smuggling people across the border). The money could not be refunded and Marin took her sister’s spot, traveling with another sister, that sister’s husband and his brother.
The coyote led them on a five-hour hike over a Tijuana mountain into Southern California, using his familiarity with the route to avoid authorities. Marin and her small party eventually made it to Los Angeles, where they boarded a cross-country bus to New York City. Her sister and brother-in-law rented a tenement apartment in the East Village, and Marin lived with them. Her childhood and her formal education were over.
The building was in terrible condition ... It’s been such an exercise in zen and archaeology. As much as we’ve been trying to maintain it, you couldn’t keep everything. We were lucky on their closing night that we didn’t all fall through. Every time we look behind a wall it’s been a major repair. It’s been an endless process.
The tight horseshoe bar where W. H. Auden and Allen Ginsberg (and possibly Leon Trotsky) once presided has been given a rubdown, though it has been moved about 20 feet and now stands in the center of the space. Also still there are the battered awning, an old wooden phone booth and an exotic mural from the place’s earlier days as a burlesque cabaret.
The resurrection could not have happened without Robert Ehrlich, the snack-food mogul who created Pirate’s Booty, who decided to buy the building and preserve the bar.