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...is one of the few places applying for a new liquor license (wine)...the Community Board 3's SLA & DCA Licensing Committee will consider this other applications tonight at 6:30.
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Lux Interior, who introduced the excitement of deviant rockabilly to the punk era as the lead singer of the Cramps, died early Wednesday in Glendale, Calif. He was 62.
The Cramps were founded in New York around 1976 by Lux Interior (born Erick Purkhiser in Stow, Ohio) and the guitarist Poison Ivy (Kristy Wallace) with a distinct musical and visual style. As connoisseurs of seemingly all forms of trashy pop culture from the 1950s and ’60s — ranging from ghoulish comic books to Z-grade horror films to the rawest garage rock — they developed a sound that mixed the menace of rockabilly’s primitivist fringe with dark psychedelia and the blunt simplicity of punk.
No, it’s not the faltering economy that’s putting venerable New York up for sale and shipment. It may be just coincidental that there is a flurry of outliers who are in a New York state of mind and want a part of it.
“We’re not taking anything from New York — the diner needed saving,” said Cheryl Pierce, who with her husband, Vince, bought the Moondance in 2007 for $7,500. They spent $40,000 to move it 2,125 miles to La Barge in western Wyoming, where it opened on Jan. 12 after a delay to replace a roof collapsed by snow.
It is hardly a new phenomenon, of course. New York has been exporting its bounties, willingly and unwillingly, since the days of Peter Stuyvesant and marauding redcoats.
More recently, according to the city’s Landmarks Preservation Commission, cast-iron eagles from the old Pennsylvania Station and Grand Central Terminal have turned up at suburban estates, a kiosk from the 1939 World’s Fair is now a restaurant in New Jersey, parts of an 18th-century ship found at 175 Water Street were sent to the Mariners’ Museum in Newport News, Va., and old subway cars are swimming with the fishes as artificial reefs off the Delaware coast.
NYPD seeks suspects in ATM "not working"
NEW YORK - Police are looking for four people who have been scheming to steal money from bank customers using cash machines in Manhattan's East Village.
Police said Friday the suspects have run a low-tech scam multiple times since October.
After the target puts his or her bank card into an ATM, a woman approaches and says that machine isn't working. While the victim uses a nearby machine, a second suspect watches and notes the victim's personal code.
That suspect gives the code to a third person, who then punches it into the machine the victim initially used -- and didn't cancel out of. Because the machine is still activated by the victim's card, the suspect is able to use the code to withdraw money.
Police have security-camera photos of at least one suspect.
Big's salary is capped at $500,000, and Carrie is replaced at the paper by a 19-year-old anal sex enthusiast with the nom de plume BrownEye, in honor of the Ivy League school she dropped out of. Money becomes tight, and Big finds that after a lifetime of Cohibas he cannot adjust to El Productos. After a series of comic moonlighting misadventures as a cab driver and new media consultant, he works contacts from his secret past as a NYPD detective and gets some shifts as a bouncer with his old pal Jesse L. Martin. Carrie starts a blog, which she makes racier to draw traffic ("How can I say I love you," her words scrolls across the MacBook screen, "when your balls are in my mouth?") but it still doesn't pay much, and they are forced to move to Greenpoint. There is a poignant, slow-motion moment when Carrie realizes Vera Wang isn't suitable for Studio B.
[T]he big difference between LaGuardia and Bloomberg is one of vision. LaGuardia loved the City as public space, with great, sprawling vistas built for the public. Mayor Bloomberg's vision is profoundly distinct from that: he sees the City as an assemblage of private enclaves that, without ready cash, are closed to you.
That's the problem. We could have a re-birth of the City, with a grand plan for the future. But we do not have that, that great living adventure, nor will we get it.
Campaigners for Bloomberg Taste High Life
Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg’s operatives get to inhabit his very different world.
They stay at the Four Seasons in London (about $400 a night), the Intercontinental in Paris ($320) and the King David in Jerusalem ($345). Room service? The mayor pays for it all. Even the laundry.
And invitations to dinner parties at Mr. Bloomberg’s Upper East Side town house rarely disappoint: Kofi Annan and Nora Ephron are regulars.
The billionaire mayor is turning heads these days with the hiring of high-profile operatives for his re-election campaign, including several who had previously worked for his rivals in the race.
And as he seeks to entice talent to come aboard the campaign, and possibly to a third term in City Hall, Mr. Bloomberg wields a powerful tool: the perks of inhabiting his world.
Working in politics often means stingy pay and tedious log-rolling. But when the richest, most socially connected man in the city happens to be mayor, it can seem more like the life on (pre-recessionary) Wall Street, right down to the car service.
“The world of Mike Bloomberg is a charmed place,” said Jonathan Capehart, who worked as a policy adviser on Mr. Bloomberg’s first bid for mayor.
“The perception of New York among young people is so phenomenal,” says Alan Bell, a partner with the Hudson Companies, a real estate development company that has built housing from the East Village to the Rockaways. “It used to be that automatically you’d get married and had kids and you were out to Montclair, New Jersey or Westchester. Now they want to stay. The question is how they stay since it’s so expensive.”
Set against this picture of progress, however, are some alarming trends. Most of the people interviewed for this report told us of middle class friends, relatives or colleagues who had recently given up on the city. “I work with a lot of people who moved to Philadelphia and commute each day,” says Chris Daly, a media director at Macy’s who now lives with his wife and three kids in Tottenville, Staten Island but plans to move to New Jersey. “It’s the cost of living. You’re going to see more people moving to Philadelphia, the Poconos and commuting.”
Unless we find ways to reverse some of the trends detailed in this report, the New York of the 21st century will continue to develop into a city that is made up increasingly of the rich, the poor, immigrant newcomers and a largely nomadic population of younger people who exit once they enter their 30s and begin establishing families.
At law firm Bickel & Brewer, even the mailroom clerks wear suits and ties. Until recently, that might have been considered extreme. But now, power dressing is coming back in style, and the old-school law firm has a new relevance.
As law-firm layoffs mount, fear of unemployment appears to be speeding up the resurgence of power clothes, even among the youngest recruits. Legal interns have begun flouting business-casual dress codes and wearing suits instead, says Gretchen Neels, a Boston communications consultant who works with law firms and graduate schools. "In our economic times, you really want to have your game on. You can't be too formal," she says.
Power clothes are selling well at menswear retailer Paul Fredrick. Those white-collared, colored dress shirts that Gordon Gekko favored in the 1987 movie "Wall Street" have been big sellers in recent months, says Dean White, executive vice president of merchandise. So are yellow power ties, another 1980s dress-for-success accessory.
But in their dash for safety, many residents of the partially collapsed building left with only their clothes, leaving behind pets, family heirlooms and other valuables. The collapse occurred while many residents were still asleep.
The building was later demolished, angering the tenants who said they had been given no chance to rescue pets or belongings.
Residents who tried to get a court injunction allowing them to remove pets and belongings from the building before it was demolished at about 8:30 P.M. accused city officials of speeding up the demolition when they were informed of their intentions.
"I said, 'Give me half an hour,'" said Marcelino Garcia, a resident who said that he had spoken to an official from the Mayor's Office of Emergency Management. When people outside the building started chanting, demanding that it be saved, Mr. Garcia said, the official got on a cellular phone, "and boom, that was it."
One resident, Marc Friedlander, 35, a video artist, said he had nearly $20,000 worth of cameras and other video equipment in his apartment, as well as the entire collection of tapes of the downtown art scene he has documented over the last 15 years.
"It's priceless what I am losing in there," he said.
Mr. Garcia, who was able to grab his dog, a bichon frise, on his way out, said his canary flew away during the pandemonium. His wife, Milagros, left her wedding ring.
For most of the afternoon, Roberto Carreara, 66, and another resident, Stanley Kleinkopf, stood near the police yellow tape and pleaded to be allowed to rescue their cats.
"Please, please," Mr. Carreara begged an officer repeatedly about retrieving his cat. "He's all I got."
Tribe's final day was last Thursday, said owner Matt Wagman, senior partner at Riteon, a partnership that operates four other bars in Manhattan. While Tribe drew loyal crowds and "always turned in really nice numbers," the bar closed after negotiations failed with landlord Tara Allmen, who had asked for a "100 percent increase" in rent when Tribe's 10-year lease expired December 31, Wagman said.
Allmen, a physician, inherited the building from her mother, Renée Allmen, along with several other East Village properties, and recently completed renovating the four residential spaces in the building. She called Tribe "an eyesore."
"I want a classier place," she said, adding that Tribe "was not going to enhance the aesthetic of the building."