
Sprinkles?

Sheppard’s voice will be heard Sunday night, as it has been all season — as the recorded introduction for No. 2, the Yankee captain Derek Jeter, after Jeter requested this rare favor. The shortstop’s name — JEE-tah — has become a stylized flourish for Sheppard, who is otherwise a purist. Or maybe we all have exaggerated it, as we imitated it. At any rate, when they finally tear down the old place, that echo will bounce off the apartment buildings and bridges and hills of the Bronx and Manhattan — JEE-tah, JEE-tah, JEE-tah — forever.
Sheppard’s legacy is secure — half a century of Giants football games, including the classic 1958 championship loss to Baltimore, his voice and microphone ensconced in the Baseball Hall of Fame (even if the rules have not been bent to induct him along with hallowed broadcasters) and inclusion in a few movies and commercials over the years. (He does have a business side to him.)
Essentially, Sheppard is a simple man, as some poets and clerics and teachers can be termed simple. He never sought the company of the athletes. He had his own niche in life, and he still does, giving thanks that he can attend church each morning, go shopping, and in good weather walk the garden behind his home, always with Mary.
They are the most handsome couple in the world. I used to see them walking the shoreline at Jones Beach State Park in the summer of 1961, but what I did not know was that they were newlyweds. When I sat in their living room a few months ago, they told me how they met, at church, of course, after Sheppard’s first wife died of a brain tumor, leaving him with four children. He invited Mary Hoffman to the beach, where they swam and played pitch-and-putt golf, and, when he was ready, he proposed.
Bob has not resumed serving as a lector at Mass, but Mary reads from the scripture many mornings — “the best female lector I have ever heard,” he said Friday, as if he were saying “No. 2, Derek JEE-tah.”
The Sheppards resisted the Yankees’ kind offer of a limousine for Sunday night, but they do go out.
“You know how old I am?” Sheppard asked. “My daughter, Mary, is celebrating her 50th year in the convent. Can you imagine? And she is still young and beautiful.”
NY attempt at record for largest tow truck parade
NEW YORK (AP) -- Get ready for the rumble of 400 or more tow trucks parading through the streets of Queens and Brooklyn.
New York's towing industry plans to break the world record for the largest tow truck parade with a procession of 50-ton rotators, medium-duty trucks, flatbeds and wreckers.
The procession is slated to leave Shea Stadium and cruise along the Van Wyck Expressway before finishing at Floyd Bennett Field in Brooklyn. The trucks will then park on the 5,000-foot runway to spell out the words "New York."
Guinness Book of World Records representatives will be on hand to certify the results of the parade. The previous world record was set on Aug. 20, 2004, at Wenatchee, Wash., by a parade of 83 tow trucks.


News from GNML via Eater.
The L.E.S. Slacktivists’ sound-permit flap spilled over to the recent HOWL! Festival, causing some howls of frustration from festival organizers. After John Penley, Jerry “The Peddler” Wade and Bill Cashman, Leftover Crack’s manager, argued in federal court that the local crust-core band’s planned concert outside the Ninth Police Precinct on Sept. 5 was being held to unfairly low decibel levels, police apparently felt they had to make a better show of monitoring HOWL! sound levels. Artist James Romberger, whose wife, Marguerite Van Cook, ran this year’s festival, as she did last year, said that “The Death to the Police Rally,” as he called it, caused a headache for HOWL! “We were enforced,” Romberger said. “They stood there all day with whatever those were…sound guns, or whatever.” Actually, Romberger said he’s more concerned about the whole “death” trend of late by local singer/activists, from Leftover Crack’s Sturgeon singing “Kill cops” to David Peel leading choruses of “Die yuppie scum!” “Anyone who’s against the death penalty cannot be behind calling for death,” Romberger stated. “Throwing donuts and pies is O.K., funny, ha ha. But calling for death is anti-reasonable and uncivilized.” Speaking of throwing donuts, we hear that the harassment charge against Sturgeon for trying to pelt police with the pastries on Sept. 5 was dropped but that he was asked to perform 200 hours of community service, which he refused.

Mike Bakaty draws tattoos with a signed picture of Gandhi hanging in a frame over his shoulder: “To Mike. Your man, Mahatma.” He traveled a lot as a young sailor, and the navy is where he got a taste for tattooing. Then, during what Bakaty refers to as the bootleg years – the period in which tattooing was illegal in New York – he started practicing the art behind closed doors on the Lower East Side.
For 36 years, there were no tattoo shop storefronts in New York City - not even on the Bowery, where modern tattooing was invented in the 1890s. There were no televisions in street-level store windows showing people getting tattoos, no advertising - save for the tattoos themselves - fliers or vague messages in the back of the Village Voice. Every Tom had to know Dick who knew Harry who knew where to get a tattoo.
Tattooing in New York City went underground after the City Health Department found what it said were a series of blood-borne hepatitis cases coming from tattoo parlors in 1961. Tattoos were done on the second story of buildings on Canal Street, in basements, apartments and backrooms.

Conceived by self-proclaimed radical sociologist-turned-real-estate-developer [Michael] Rosen in 1989, Red Square occupies land that served as an automobile service station for more than 25 years. Rosen's wife's family bought the property in the 1960s, and, he points out, no homes were destroyed and no businesses were displaced.Red Square was designed by graphic artist legend Tibor Kalman, a Hungarian immigrant. Its quirky feel has come to symbolize the avant-garde, rebellious East Village spirit.

Marie Santiago, who used to be the superintendent of a Staten Island building where Reeve lived for several years, called him a "freak."
"When they left, we found out they were total freaks. We found videos of him and people playing with people dressed up as dinosaurs," she said.
"When they had a party, the people who came were weirdos. They wore all leather. They would wear spikes around their necks, too."




In the film version of “Sex and the City,” Miranda, played by Cynthia Nixon, hunts for an apartment in Chinatown, eager to sink roots into this roiling neighborhood. Once a bit remote and gritty for Miranda and her acquisitive ilk, this Lower East Side enclave — home to Chinese, Burmese and Vietnamese, among others — is on the cusp of gentrification. Wine bars, art galleries, restaurants and boutiques have proliferated, turning the area into a magnet for real-life style seekers who can be seen on weekends casing out the string of shops scattered in the shadow of the Manhattan Bridge.
Intent on exploring this two-mile-square area loosely bounded by Kenmare and Delancey Streets on the north, and East and Worth Streets on the south, they thread their way past old tenements, knickknack shops and vendors selling windup toys. And they shop.
“It’s crazy how things are blossoming here,” said Zia Ziprin, the owner of Girls Love Shoes on Ludlow Street, just south of Canal. “It’s definitely becoming a little mecca.”
Merchants are lured by affordable rents; shoppers by the promise of forward-looking, and sometimes budget-friendly, wares at boutiques popping up along Orchard, Ludlow and Division Streets — and, more recently, on Canal, where closet-size outposts of chic rub shoulders with electronics and hardware stores.
For retailers, “Chinatown is a last frontier,” said Faith Hope Consolo, the chairman of retail leasing and sales for Prudential Douglas Elliman. Merchants leap at the chance to lease stores for $100 to $150 a square foot, roughly one third to one half the rent for comparable space farther uptown. “Here they can be big fish in a little pond.”


An "I want it now" society that refuses to live within its means is partly responsible for the subprime-mortgage crisis, Mayor Bloomberg said yesterday.(New York Post)
"I think you just can't blame the banks," he said, taking borrowers to task.
"They say, 'I want the great American dream. I want it now and I'm not going to wait until I put some money in the bank.' . . That's where we lost the moral compass of saying no to people who did not have the earning capacity to support a mortgage."

The Eldridge is a nice space, but indeed, there’s nothing mind-blowing about it–unless, of course, you wanna talk location (and my friends are as obsessed with this neighborhood right now as I am). I know how stupid this sounds but for an uptown girl like me, stepping out of the cab last night on Eldridge Street was like stepping on to a soundstage. Maybe it’s because they had the sidewalk all glammed up for this party and the collision of flashbulbs and the unassuming nonchalance of East Village streets, graffiti and neon is what got me. I know the west village always used to give me this ‘you’re in a storybook’ feel and it still does from time to time–and the bowery can still feel like that during the day but it’s hard to feel like you’re in little ‘untouched’/unchartered new york by night. It’s an incredible feeling.
So whether or not we’re comin’ back to the eldridge, this is an area, I think, that’s going to see a lot of activity this year. But I hope it holds onto everything I described.

"Recently, rental buildings are going more full-service, and a lot of condos are making moves towards hotel amenities. Buildings going up now are gearing up to sell units over the next 24 months - they're counting on the weak dollar attracting foreigners - by providing the services that hotels do."
That's where Dr. Robert Glatter comes in.
Glatter is a board-certified emergency physician who has worked with high-profile clients - in certain circles he's known as the official doctor of the city's "fashion bitches" - such as Elie and Rory Tahari, Diane von Furstenberg, Devi Kroell and the cast of "Gossip Girl."
But when he's not taking the temperatures of the famous creative class or attending to patients at Lenox Hill Hospital, he's running his new business, Dr. 911. In addition to being sort of an old-fashioned house call medical care service, the business, which employs four other doctors, caters to luxury buildings such as 15 Central Park West, The Miraval and 40 Bond.
"And a lot of busy people - especially corporate types who have difficulty getting away from their desks - long for days of traditional house calls."
While the service might seem charmingly quaint and old-fashioned, it's not really for everyone - specifically, it's not for the poor. Prices vary on a case-by-case basis, but this personalized service does not come cheap.
"We have an upscale clientele," he says. "Sometimes we'll get a call from an outlying area, but the price deters them a little bit. I don't take insurance, and it's the patient's responsibility to submit the invoice to their company for partial reimbursement."

Federal homeland security officials are giving $29.5 million to the New York Police Department to develop a system to prevent a radiological or nuclear attack on the city.
Meanwhile, down the street. A few people in Tiffany's.
Not so many people shopping for BMWs. Except some dummies.