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A little later ...
And now! EV Grieve reader AC notes that the bike has gone missing...
Perhaps just taking out to get a seat....?
Previously on EV Grieve:
Exclusive: Q-and-A with the bike that became an iconic symbol of the 2010 Holiday Blizzard
You might not be equipped to become a supermodel, but you can live like one for $7,995 a month. Lily Donaldson, the striking face of Burberry, wants to rent out her uber-cool East Village two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment on Avenue B, directly overlooking Tompkins Square Park. And she seems motivated to make a deal — the price has just been reduced from $8,500. Donaldson, who has also worked for Dior, bought the 1,700-square-foot apartment for $2.2 million in 2008 — a hefty $1,294 per square foot in Alphabet City. Fit for a model, the master bedroom offers lots of closet space and a separate dressing area.
So, with heavy heart, the proprietor, Matthew Maher, 70, climbed up a small ladder. With curatorial care, he took down the two-dozen dust-cocooned wishbones dangling on an old gas lamp above the storied bar counter. He removed the clouds of gray from each bone. Then he placed every one of the bones, save for those that crumbled at his touch, back onto the gas lamp — where, in the context of this dark and wonderful establishment, they are not merely the scrap remains of poultry, but holy relics.
[T]imes have changed: old New York and new New York remain in conflict, and old New York is losing. For example, lounging cats had been a furry part of the McSorley fabric since Lincoln. But word recently came down from City Hall: no cats. A longtime regular, Minnie, has been barred as a result.
"I actually contacted Mr. Barry hoping he'd do a follow-up to his previous column on the wishbones. He asked about my current status, and I explained that Mr. Maher has said I'm not allowed into the bar during drinking hours...officially. Since the only heat I want coming down is from the stove, that's the fact as it must be reported and as we must maintain.
It's a sad turn of events about the bones."
After graduating with a degree in English from NYU in 1954, Edwards had trouble finding employment in the city. Not deterred from his dream of coming to New York and never looking back, Edwards eventually put an old knowledge to good use. Growing up in Norfolk, Virginia with a mother who sold annuals, Edwards was well versed in the world of plant life.
When a new owner bought the building in the summer, the air grew increasingly tense. Suddenly, there were “suits” in and out and a sense of danger. We, the core tenants, were basically looked upon as if we were antiquated machinery that should be replaced by new, shinier mechanisms, especially ones that could and would pay a higher rent. A few people heard whispers of buyout, but basically none of us knew what was going on.
Now, day and night, tourists were dragging their suitcases up the stairs for a stay in real New York for half the price of a proper hotel. The people were very nice, but they were so pissed off at what they found, that they complained to us, the regular tenants, endlessly. The hallways were still in their original deconstructed tenement look, much different from what the visitors expected. In fact, the workers were laying down a kind of cement on the floors, which created a horrid dust. Unfortunately for me, the cement was laid so high, I couldn’t open my front door, and New York’s Bravest firemen had to come and break up the cement so I could exit my apartment.
Perhaps in retaliation for our activism, we, the old, worn-out tenants, found ourselves without heat or hot water during the coldest days in November and December. The new management company says it was because a new boiler had not yet been properly fitted; either way, we were without working heat or an available superintendent.
Now our little group is in court, trying to get an abatement for the hardships we’ve endured and hoping to get violations in the building and our apartments rectified. Buyouts are still being whispered about, but for the time being, we are holding on.
I clicked over to the website for Boulud's fancy sausage burger joint, DBGB, and literally could not believe my ears. I thought that I had a stray tab open, for I had no other explanation for why "The Magnificent Seven" was playing over my office computer speakers. But, no. Boulud has, in fact, taken that bete noire of restaurant websites, background music, and extended the whole pissing on the grave of punk rock brand by having the fucking Clash as his background music. For nineteen dollar hamburgers.
I am not an entertainment lawyer ... But, my hunch is that you need to pay to use music someone else recorded for your commercial website. At the very least, let's hope that Joe Strummer's kids get free nine dollar hotdogs when they are in town.