
Checking in on the façade repair at 112 Avenue A at East Seventh Street... the Joe Strummer mural should come out of all this OK...
"We understand that you may be on a different schedule than many of us, but we're not playing our music out of our windows when you're sleeping. No, we have an understanding of what it means to be a neighbor. This is not a dormitory (although, the changing nature of the East Village may, at times, look and sound otherwise)."
The previous occupant was a master carpenter/environmentalist and it shows! Every room has AT LEAST ONE WINDOW!
Basically the apt has no issues. All the bedrooms are a nice size. It's not on ave D, it's not above a bar, its not near a hospital or on a strange block. It's actually on a well lit, active residential tree lined street.
It sounds impossible: a fully-appointed luxury building has sprouted in the beating heart of the East Village. A 24-hour doorman greets you before work in the morning, after returning from a cafe in the evening and when heading out to Tompkins Square Park on the weekends. You'll have every modern convenience, from a gym to a roof deck to in-unit laundry, on the same streets where names like The Ramones, Warhol and Hendrix and [sic] paved the history of this neighborhood for years to come.
Have now spotted 4 people riding Citi Bikes in the last 10 minutes. Plus 1 van. twitter.com/evgrieve/statu…
— evgrieve (@evgrieve) May 27, 2013
And the shop’s 68-year-old owner, affectionately known as “Dr. Frank,” is worried about his future.
"My biggest question is how did they come about to choose the areas where they put these bikes. Did they study the areas? Did they look at the businesses around them?" asked a flabbergasted Frank Arroyo.
Second Avenue opened after the adoption of the grid plan in 1811, and wealthy families put up comfortable brick Greek Revival houses, like the Isaac Hopper house at 110 Second Avenue (above), nearly intact from the 1830s.
Another town house from the 1840s is 149 Second Avenue; it still has its stoop and is comparatively little altered, although there’s a big skylight on the roof that must give some apartment plenty of sun. The 1870 census records the occupants as Edward Jaffray, a socially prominent dry goods importer, his family of five and nine servants.
There is still some of the old egg-cream-ethnic left on Second Avenue, but now the chief cultural group is 20-something singles, who spill onto the sidewalks like a giant fraternity party, more ebullient than disorderly, even with plenty of beer.