Your chance to heckle a grump!

Joking! Please be nice to Mr. Reed! From The Villager's A-list:

Lou Reed will be making a special appearance to read from, discuss, and sign his book, “Pass Thru Fire: the Collected Lyrics.” Containing a body of work that spans more than three decades, “Pass Thru Fire” (Da Capo Books, December 2008) is a compilation of the lyrics of an American original. Beginning with his formative days in the Velvet Underground and continuing through his remarkable solo career—albums like Transformer, Berlin, New York, Magic and Loss, and Ecstasy--Pass Thru Fire is crucial to an appreciation of Lou Reed, not only as a consummate underground musician, but as one of the truly significant poets of our time. Wed., Dec. 17 at 7 p.m. Free. Housing Works Book Café. 126 Crosby St. (betw. Prince & Houston Sts.)

That inevitable first snow of the season photo

In Tompkins Square Park.

Meter beaters

Jeremiah has the gory photos of the old parking meters being ripped out of the ground today in the East Village.

Earlier today on EV Grieve:
More old-school parking meters to meet their maker, join 45 RPM jukeboxes in coin heaven

Back to the Stones age

That malarkey about an impromptu Fall Out Boy show yesterday at Washington Square Park made me want to...Oh, forget it.

On May 1, 1975, the Stones announced their summer tour by playing an impromptu set on a flatbed truck on lower Fifth Avenue. Here's some shitty-looking footage about the surprise gig from two newscasts...I love the couple's reaction at the 2:18 point.

A pessimistic economic forecast gets more pessimistic (aka, Holy Fucking Shit — We're Screwed!)

Gothamist has the not-so-chipper economic news for the city:

New York City's budget gap will be as much as $1.9 billion in fiscal 2009 and could possibly balloon to as much as $5 billion by 2011, according to a wholly depressing new report from City Comptroller (and mayoral hopeful) William Thompson Jr. ... The recession could cost the city some $935 million in tax revenues next year, a figure that includes a $525 million shortfall in real estate-related taxes, a $345 million reduction in personal income and business taxes, and a $65 million loss in property taxes.

The annual report, titled The State of the City’s Economy and Finances (Or, Time To Move Back In With Your Parents), paints an even bleaker picture than Mayor Bloomberg's November budget proposal. In it, Thompson writes, "Waves of negative economic developments during 2008 have given way to a tsunami of financial anxiety and caused us to issue a more pessimistic forecast than was put forth by the mayor. As the economy erodes, the outlook for New York City’s fiscal future will continue to change."

Perhaps Susan Cheever is just running with the wrong crowd

Susan Cheever writing in the Times:

The New York apartments and lofts which were once the scenes of old-fashioned drunken carnage — slurred speech, broken crockery, broken legs and arms, broken marriages and broken dreams — are now the scene of parties where both friendships and glassware survive intact. Everyone comes on time, behaves well, drinks a little wine, eats a few tiny canapés, and leaves on time. They all still drink, but no one gets drunk anymore. Neither do they smoke. What on earth has happened?

And!

In the old days, drunkenness was as much part of New York City society as evening clothes. This is the city where Zelda Fitzgerald jumped wildly in the fountain in front of the Plaza, the city of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” written by another fabulous alcoholic, Truman Capote. It’s the city of late nights with sloshed celebrities at the Stork Club. It’s the city that gave its name to Manhattans and Bronx Cocktails, the city of John O’Hara and Frank O’Hara, of drunken brilliance and brilliant drunks.

There are more than 20 empty storefronts along Avenue B

Let's take a walk up Avenue B, starting at Second Street.....









This spot will soon be home to a new coffee shop...but until then...





























Still with me? By my count, that's 21 empty storefronts in 14 blocks, though you can't really count the three blocks on Avenue B that border Tompkins Square Park....so make that 21 storefronts in 11 blocks.

Speaking of Avenue B, that store I'll be able to afford now has signage

Previously on EV Grieve:
A new store is opening that people may actually be able to afford

More old-school parking meters to meet their maker, join 45 RPM jukeboxes in coin heaven

Jeremiah had the post last month on the end of the old parking meters...and the introduction of the Muni-Meters. Starting today, more of the old meters will be removed. This sign was on East Seventh Street between First Avenue and Second Avenue.



Soon, more sterile Muni-Meters to match the increasingly sterile city.

The former Five Rose's is for rent; memories remain

The "store for rent" sign is up at Five Rose's, the beloved pizza shop on First Avenue between 10th Street and 11th Street that closed Nov. 29.



Meanwhile, in the right front window...Let's see how much longer the landlord will allow the memories to last...I took these photos late Sunday afternoon...[Update: See the comments...Jeremiah reports that the thank-you sign and photos are gone...while another commenter correctly points out that the landlord is the former owner of the business.]









For further reading:
Five Rose's Pizza: Vanishing (Jeremiah's Vanishing NY)

Five Roses’ Krystyna Says “I’ll Be Back” (Hunter-Gatherer)

Boss Hog re-emerges after eight years of Bush

EV Grieve favorite Boss Hog is playing in NYC for the first time in eight years. They're at the Bowery Ballroom Wednesday night. Boss Hog singer Cristina Martinez talked with Time Out this week.

Is it challenging to get over the supersexy image you had when Boss Hog started?
Yeah, I’ll never be able to live that down. [Laughs] That’s probably the most worrisome thing for me. Sometimes it does make me a little sad. I’m totally aware of the possibility of people being disappointed in me in any way.

Meanwhile, NME.com had this about the Bowery date:

The performance, taking place December 17, will be the band’s first hometown gig in eight years, a reunion that ties in nicely with the end of George Bush’s second term as President, according to the band's frontwoman.

“It’s been two torturous terms of Republican disease and culture death,” Martinez says. “Now that we're free, it's the perfect time for us to bring back our own brand of sick in celebration.”

Here's Brooklyn Vegan's review (with a zillion photos) of Boss Hog's Dec. 3 show at Maxwell's.

Here are some shots from their gig at All Tomorrow's Parties' Nightmare Before Christmas gig in the UK on Dec. 7.

For more Boss Hog stuff.

EV Grieve Etc.: Mourning Edition (2:19 p.m. edition)

Richard Hell at K-Mart (Flaming Pablum)

Renovations coming to Met Food. Meanwhile, enjoy the Chuck steak (Jeremiah's Vanishing NY)

City will reroute traffic at Chatham Square no matter what you think (Save the Lower East Side!)

Life on Mars filming on Bleecker. (BoweryBoogie)

Astroland like you never want to see it (Curbed)

Why we're popping more pills (Esquared)

42nd Street faded ad from 1990 (Greenwich Village Daily Photo)

A class where men learn how to shave (The New York Times)

Three days that shook the world (Fortune)

Report: Alistair Economakis is suing his cousin Evel for libel

As you may recall, a sharply worded letter made the rounds this past summer from one Evel Economakis, a high-school history teacher in Athens, Greece, who is also reportedly the cousin of landlord Alistair Economakis, owner of 47 E. Third St. (In November, Alistair Economakis was successful in buying out the remaining tenants at 47 E. Third St. He is reportedly making the tenement building a home for his family.)

According to an article in The Indypendent, Alistair Economakis is suing his cousin for libel. As The Indypendent reported:

In a letter sent out in September, Evel Economakis wrote that the libel suit is an attempt “to send me to jail and destroy me financially (which is not a hard thing to do, as I make under $12,000 a year).” According to Third Street tenants, Greek law allows plaintiffs to sue for libel even if the accusations are true.

So in that letter, Evel apologized for “the mistake of calling my cousin Alistair a ’spoiled rich brat.’

“Alistair grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, was surrounded by maids and other servants, had everything handed to him, played on his father’s yacht, and rode his father’s horses on their estate in England. More, on at least two occasions I personally witnessed how rudely he addressed poor elderly people in Greece. But none of this, of course, constitutes evidence that he is a ’spoiled rich brat.’ Sorry, Alistair, I shouldn’t have said that about you.”

“If I had the chance to rewrite the letter, I wouldn’t use characterizations and other adjectives,” he concluded. “But I have always believed -- and will always believe -- that a parasite is a person who takes and never gives back. A parasite buys and sells, producing nothing. Worse still, he does so at the expense of others.”

Meanwhile, the article in The Indypendent contains many juicy details about the battle for 47 E. Third St.

Previous coverage of 47 E. Third St. on EV Grieve.

How bizarre!

Dirt Candy on East Ninth Street between Avenue A and First Avenue.

New coffee place coming to Avenue B

There's a new coffee place opening on Avenue B between Fourth Street and Third Street. Few details at the moment. (Carpenters and other construction workers really do need a blogger/media relations 101 course so they are much more forthcoming with details. Or, if they truly don't know, they need to get more inquisitive!)

Heh. Anyway. They're hiring.

More King of the Hill promo sightings; residents wonder how a show that was never, ever funny remained on the air for so many years

Picking up from BoweryBoogie and Curbed last week.

Had a sighting at Sixth Street and Avenue A:



And Houston and Avenue B:





Full disclosure: Mrs. Grieve and I are the "residents" the headline refers to. Feel free to defend the show in the comments.

Welcome to the house of Swayzzzze

The Swayzzzze! On the south side of Houston between Norfolk and Suffolk. Two things. No, wait. Make that three!

1) If I'm not mistaken, though I probably am, this address always seems to house some sort of big ad like this. Why?

2) How would you feel living here...and having to go through the door that is actually The Swayzzzze's gun barrel (so to speak) every day?

3) Road House is a fine motion picture. (How Driving Miss Daisy beat this out for Best Picture in 1989 I have no idea. And Daniel Day-Lewis for My Left Foot? The Swayzzzze was robbed.)

Haven't we suffered enough?

From this week's Page Six Magazine.

Tree Lighting in Tompkins Square Park

There were Christmas carols and music and hot cider and community spirit this afternoon at the annual Tree Lighting ceremony at Tompkins Square Park.







And, uh, a live snippet of "Silent Night"....



Unfortunately, at this point, the NYPD swept in and arrested everyone involved. Apparently the Christmas carols exceeding the 20 decibels at 5 feet rule as mandated by the sound permit required by the city. The tree was chopped down as evidence. I asked a police officer what was happening as he packed his gun especially made for dispensing tear gas. Rather humorlessly he said, "These motherfuckers will pay for being too loud."

Sorry. This isn't true. Or funny. But such a scenario crossed my mind.

Toots

All this talk today in the next few posts about fancy cocktails and secret "underbelly" bars makes me...

Well, it makes me want to watch Toots, the documentary on Toots Shoor, the legendary Manhattan saloonkeeper. The film, directed by his granddaughter, will have a limited theatrical run before being released on DVD Jan. 13.

Here's a look:

Noted

The Times features spiffy Crown Heights hotspot Franklin Park today. As the Times reports:

“I came because of the Skee-Ball,” said Ashley Bonnell, 28, on a recent Saturday night, as she sipped a gin gimlet alongside the white subway-style tiles of the smaller bar. “My friends have been calling me to join them in the East Village, but I told them I’m hanging out in my hood.”

From the next stool, her friend Joachim Boyle, 28, who was also drinking a gimlet, concurred. “You don’t know how excited I am to be out of the Village and live here.”

Mr. Boyle pondered whether old-timers would dismiss them as invading hipsters.

“I’m not a hipster,” Ms. Bonnell, a physical therapist, insisted.

“Yes, you are,” Mr. Boyle said, waving toward her long cardigan, red scarf and chunky boots. He tugged on his subtly sheened blue button-down. “So am I.”

Also, the Times offers a handy guide at the end that includes the address and this...:

DRESS CODE Facial hair, cabby hats, zippered sweaters and jeans for men. Oversize cardigans, leggings or skinny jeans, long scarves and flat boots for women.

A taste of Milk & Honey and other "underbelly bars"

In the Times of London today, writer Stephen Bleach takes a tour of the "underbelly bars of New York." La Esquina. Angel's Share. PDT. The Box. Milk & Honey. Village Pourhouse. (Heh. OK, just seeing if you're still paying attention...)

Anyway! Here's his impression of Milk & Honey at 134 Eldridge St. Once he finally gets in and what not.

The address was a sleazily ungentrified street of bins and boarded-up tailors’ shops on the Lower East Side. If La Esquina looked like the place where people get shot on NYPD Blue, this was where they’d dump the body. By the cracked plastic bell push was a dirty sign: “Alterations”. Not promising — but a buzz, a word on the intercom, and we were in.

It took a while for our eyes to adjust to the light. About 10 minutes, in fact. You can tell how cool a place is by the degree of gloom, and if Milk & Honey were any cooler, you’d have to order your drinks in Braille.

In fact, there’s no list. You tell the waitress what mood you’re in and the barman rustles up what he deems appropriate. He sent me a cherry daiquiri. I hate cherries. As Dexter Gordon sax tunes floated lazily in the darkness, we peered at the people around us. From what we could see, they were all very beautiful, which was nice, and appeared to know it, which wasn’t.

“So, here we are,” I said to Jaqui. “This is the coolest place in New York. What do you think?”

She sipped her eggy concoction thoughtfully. “It’s a good bar, and I like the fact we got in,” she said. “But can we go and be tourists now?”

She had a point. Digging into Gotham’s hidden underbelly was fun, but there’s a limit to how cool you really need to be.

“Up the Empire State tomorrow, then a carriage through Central Park?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jaqui said.