Sunday, March 16, 2008

East 7th Street, 4:50 p.m., March 16


Just wait until tomorrow.

Live like Jimi Hendrix (but maybe without all the mysterious death part)



This rental notice caught our eye (must have been the five exclamation points) in today's New York Times:

Jimi Hendrix Lives On!!!!!

More like his old house lives on. But, yes, starting April 1, you can rent "The Cottage," the unique home at 50 W. 8th Street that Hendrix once lived. Can be yours for $7,950 a month. (Hendrix's legendary Electric Lady Studios is at 52 W. 8th Street.)

The online version of the ad in the Times doesn't mention Hendrx. Neither does the listing at Buchbinder & Warren.

Still, sounds nice, huh?

One of Manhattan's most unique properties offering country living in the heart of Greenwich Village. This 2bdr/2bth home, with washer/dryer and fireplace, offers stylish and sophisticated living with a private outdoor garden/patio area perfect for gardening and entertaining. A secure private entrance leads to this glass enclosed living space where the oversized, sky-lit solarium looks and opens onto the outdoor patio garden. FEATURES- Striking architectural elements include sky-lit solarium/greenhouse - Spacious contemporary 2bdr/2bth home with open plan living/dining areas- Fully-appointed, modern kitchen with custom cabinetry, stainless steel appliances, and stone counter tops- Gas-fueled fireplace- Washer/dryer- Central AC/heating throughout- Pre-wired intercom and cable - Two modern tiled windowed bathrooms- Central Greenwich Village location convenient to wonderful restaurants, great shopping and all transportation.

Great shopping? Like all those shoe stores that went out of business on 8th Street?

By the way, LES native Norman Buchbinder, a principal in Buchbinder & Warren, died early last year. He was 84. The feature obituary in The Villager mentions "The Cottage."

Another signature property he owned known as “The Cottage,” fronting into the backyard garden at 50 W. Eighth St., was once the residence of rock-and-roll legend Jimi Hendrix.





Accidents waiting to happen?


Given the number of high rises (4,000?, 5,000?) going up in the neighborhood ... yesterday's deadly crane tragedy in Turtle Bay gives us pause ... we already had close calls with that piece of shit condo at 110 Third Ave.


Got a chill today when I saw the crane (pictured) stretched across Third Avenue like that.


Thursday, March 13, 2008

The way we were



The current Time Out New York has a Lower East Side map circa 1882 that spans Houston to Broome Streets between Norfolk Street and the Bowery. In total, there are 61 liquor bars and 242 lager saloons in that area. A lot, sure, but did they have to worry about annoying I-bankers?

[Map image from Time Out New York via Gawker]

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Breaking: New York Post finds that bars in the East Village and LES can be kind of loud


It has been a whirlwind few days of investigative reporting for the New York Post. Sunday, in an EXCLUSIVE, the paper told of a "shady Atlanta businesswoman armed with a gallon jug of silicone and syringes . . . offering to inject women seeking 'J.Lo butts.' " Yesterday, they turned to another blight of our city: Noise pollution, in particular the racket made by the many bars and clubs in the East Village and Lower East Side. (How much better would our city be without noisy bars and women with J. Lo butts?)

The paper reported, "between July 1, 2007, and Jan. 31, 2008, Community Board 3 -- which covers the two youth-dominated neighborhoods, as well as Chinatown -- recorded 1,872 complaints about the pounding din coming from nightspots. That represented 26 percent of the 7,157 complaints for bars, clubs and restaurants in Manhattan."

"Pounding din?" Nice.

Well, this isn't really any surprise for people who have lived here for more than, say, a week. Yes, it must really suck to live above a bar or club (or even near one), especially since the smoking ban forced people to congregate outside. And since so many seemingly hideous night spots opened. (Won't get into any names here. Let's just say there are a few on Avenue B around 4th Street that attract a heinous mix of jackals. Do you see me throwing up or peeing in the parking lots of your malls in Paramus?)

Oh. Well, back to the Post article. The article was accompanied by a photo of Manitoba's on Avenue B, a bar that I happen to really like (earlier in the evenings, anyway -- I just don't like crowds of any sort). The caption reads: "The sidewalk outside Manitoba's bar, in the East Village, exceeded the danger level of 80 decibels, on a recent night of rowdiness." As you can see from the above photo, there are roughly six people in the bar at the moment (usually when I'm there). Obviously the photo was taken at a different time. (There are even two different photo credits.) Manitoba's isn't even mentioned in the article. What annoys me is that there are dozens of places in the neighborhood worthy of being singled out.

Curious what Handsome Dick Manitoba's reaction was when he saw the piece. The bar does have a history of noise problems, particularly back when they were doing live music on Monday nights. (Blame one prudish couple who bought a place above the bar for this -- not that I'm taking sides!) Still, Manitoba's stopped the music nights. Manitoba seems like a real decent guy and good neighbor. He lives around the corner. I like what he does with the bar.

Finally, on a related note, I do sympathize with folks who are stuck near or above noisy spots -- at least the places in which the residents were there first, and a bar/club opened later. Not quite as sympathetic to people who chose to live above a bar. For instance! A former college roommate moved to New York years back, settling in a nice apartment above the Grassroots Tavern, another bar I like very much, on St. Mark's. She didn't last there too long. Why? "It's too loud." What did she expect? "I didn't think it would be this bad."








Sunday, March 9, 2008

The song in my head

There were times when I'd walk around the neighborhood...and the vibe I'd get could be set to a song and video like the following from Pussy Galore.



Now, given all the condos and fancy shops and clueless young people with too much money, it seems more like this from the band Whiny Dork Who Could Never Date the Model in the Video. (Actually, that may not be the name of the band. Whatever.)

We don't know what to say about this



An aside: Because all the models I know drink Guinness.

Paying attention to the little things


This plaque is on a building on East Ninth Street between Avenue A and First Avenue. I'm always happy that such tributes survive through the years. Can easily see some new builinding owner or creepy super be like, "Who in the &*&^%$ is Astor Piazzolla...?" and take it down.

By the way, I wasn't familiar with him either until I first saw this plaque some years back.



No room for mom and pop in the neighborhood


Hate to say it, but this was all too inevitable. From this week's issue of The Villager:


Discount stores, ethnic restaurants and small local businesses line the south side of E. 14th St. along the stretch of Alphabet City. Many of these congenial mom-and-pop shops have been serving the lower- and middle-income Lower East Side and Stuyvesant Town communities for decades with their affordable prices and personal customer relationships. But it is becoming more and more difficult for these establishments to survive, caught between rising rents and gentrification. Charlies, at 532 E. 14th St. between Avenues A and B, a neighborhood staple for the past 41 years, is the latest to fall victim to this trend.


Bonnie Rosenstock's article says Charlies will shutter at the end of this month.


“I’ve been coming here since I was 7 or 8,” said a 46-year-old Hispanic woman. “We need to have our community stores. This is what keeps the neighborhood healthy. There is so much greed that is destroying the neighborhood.”


[Image: Villager photo by Bonnie Rosenstock]

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Richard Price on the Lower East Side: "This place is like Byzantium"



There's a feature on Bronx-born Richard Price today in the Times. His new novel, Lush Life, is set in the Lower East Side, and concerns a seemingly random murder.


Excerpts from the article:

About the Lower East Side today, Mr. Price said, “This place is like Byzantium. It’s tomorrow, yesterday — anyplace but today.” He added that he sometimes thinks of the neighborhood as a very busy ghost town, where many of the ghosts milling around still speak Yiddish.

His grandparents got their start in the Lower East Side, he explained, and while Mr. Price was growing up his father worked here as a window dresser for the many small clothing shops that used to be an important part of the neighborhood economy.

“In a way the whole place has come full-circle in five generations,” Mr. Price said. “A hundred years ago there were Jews trying to claw their way out of here, and now the descendants of those people are paying $2,000 a month to live in what used to be their tenements.”


[Price image by Sara Krulwich/The New York Times]

Saturday, March 1, 2008

East Ninth Street between A and First Avenue, 7:40 a.m., March 1


The bicycle orphans of the East Village





I've always been fascinated by the numerous bicycles chained to just about anything in the neighborhood. Difficult to tell sometimes which ones are still still being used, and which ones are abandoned. Back before I had a camera, I'd pass by this one carcass of a bike on East 10th Street near Second Avenue. Seemed as if every time that I walked by, another piece of the bike was missing. Eventually, the chain was the only thing left. (I kind of figured it was some awful ongoing art project.)

Several years back, there was a woman's vintage bike chained to the light pole in front of Sophie's. It was never touched. Eventually, it was said that the bike belonged to a young woman who did some work at the now defunct Le Tableau a few doors down. She was killed one night after getting hit by an oncoming subway. It was an accident that didn't get much, if any, press. The bike remained there for nearly a year. Then one day it was gone.