Old sign of the day

I came across this Cloder sign on Ann Street, which runs parallel to Fulton near the Financial District. I did a little digging and couldn't find out what Cloder was. Based on the condition of the storefront, it doesn't appear anything has been in this space for a few years.



Also, it's a one-sided sign, apparently to attract the one-way traffic moving east on the street.

This former business is directly across the way from the closed-off back entrance of the Blarney Stone, where their neon goodness brightly shines. Must enter through the front door on Fulton.

"Every successful society needs its Bohemia, a haven for the artists, exiles, and misfits who regenerate the culture"

Finally made it past the cover of the July Vanity Fair.

Recommended reading, this piece by Christopher Hitchens:

Last Call, Bohemia
Every successful society needs its Bohemia, a haven for the artists, exiles, and misfits who regenerate the culture. With the heart of New York’s West Village threatened by developers, London, Paris, and San Francisco have a message for Manhattan: Don’t do it!

[The photo: The studio of the artist Arnold Bergier, at Greenwich Avenue and 10th Street, which was demolished in 1960 to make way for a 14-story building (despite the painted entreaties). Photograph by Fred W. McDarrah.]

Checking in with "The God of Gambling"

Lysandra Ohrstrom at the Observer checks in with some OTB regulars, including "the God of Gambling." It's a brief slice-of-life of the character that will be lost if the parlors go:

If a deal to save the city’s 61 Off Track Betting parlors is not hammered out this weekend, we bet the Aqueduct race track in Queens is going to be pretty crowded come Monday.
The regulars clustered at the branch on Lafayette and Canal streets Wednesday morning almost all said that if they can’t gamble in the stark, grimy, fluorescent-familiarity of OTB, they’ll go to the track instead. No matter how inconvenient playing the ponies becomes, if OTB were to close, no one we spoke to had any intention of stopping.
“Gas is five dollars now, but people still want to bet,” said Sylvio, a suavely dressed retiree, sporting a Panama Jack straw hat. “If people want to bet and they got money they’ll bet, it doesn’t matter where.”
A man placing a bet at the counter interrupted, shouting, “We’re never going to stop! We can’t stop!
“I don’t work. I just play the horses,” said the jumpy, Asian man, who identified himself as “the God of Gambling.”
“I can survive. I pay rent and I have two cars, but too many people lose. I suggest they close it. A man will come in here with three restaurants and leave with two. They’ll come back another day and leave with one. Then they lose that and they’re broke. It happens all the time.”
A retired merchant marine who served for 38 years now visits the Canal Street OTB two or three times a week and goes to the track on Wednesdays. Though he “loses more than he wins”--$700 to $800 per day is not uncommon—he keeps on coming back “for revenge.”
“Some people come with 50 bucks to bet, they’ll lose 48 and have two dollars for the subway home,” he said. “Some people come with 50 bucks, lose it all, and walk 60 blocks home.”

[OTB photo by Bonnie Natko via Flickr. This native New Yorker has many more great photos here.] 

“New York at that moment was bankrupt, poor, dirty, violent, drug-infested, sex-obsessed — delightful”

New York City during the 1970s was a beautiful, ravaged slag — impoverished and neglected after suffering from decades of abuse and battery. She stunk of sewage, sex, rotting fish, and day-old diapers. She leaked from every pore.
[Expletive] was already percolating by the time I hit Manhattan as a teen terror in 1976. Inspired by the manic rantings of Lester Bangs in Creem magazine, the Velvet Underground's sarcastic wit, the glamour of the New York Dolls' first album, and the poetic scat of Horses, by Patti Smith, I snuck out my bedroom window, jumped on a Greyhound, and crash-landed in a bigger ghetto than the one I had just escaped from. But with two hundred bucks in my pocket tucked inside a notebook full of misanthropic screed, a baby face that belied a hustler's instinct, and a killer urge to create in order to destroy everything that had originally inspired me, I didn't give a flying [expletive] if the Bowery smelled like dog [expletive].

That's part of an essay by Lydia Lunch included in “No Wave: Post-Punk. Underground. New York. 1976-1980,” a visual history by Thurston Moore and Byron Coley. No wave gets the coffee-table book treatment this month. Ben Sisario at the Times takes a look at the book in today's paper:

Of all the strange and short-lived periods in the history of experimental music in New York, no wave is perhaps the strangest and shortest-lived . . .

With crisp black-and-white photographs and interviews with musicians and visual artists, the book is a loving reminiscence of a largely unheard period, as well as a look at a seedy, pre-gentrified Lower East Side. . . .

"New York at that moment was bankrupt, poor, dirty, violent, drug-infested, sex-obsessed — delightful,” Ms. Lunch said by phone. “In spite of that we were all laughing, because you laugh or you die. I’ve always been funny. My dark comedy just happens to scare most people.”

[Lydia Lunch photo by Julia Gorton]

Bonus: Teenage Jesus and the Jerks live

Drv-In moving to the East Village?

Saw the following item in BizBash yesterday about Grand Opening's expansion away from its current digs on Norfolk Street:

The folks at Grand Opening, the small Lower East Side venue with a rotating roster of quirky activities, are expanding their offerings—both indoors and outdoors. The fall and winter concept was Drv-In, an intimate screening room outfitted with a 1965 convertible four-door Ford Falcon. This summer, the same concept (and the same car) moves to a larger, permanent venue in the East Village. The new Drv-In has a reception area and concession stand, and while the car still only seats six, the space can hold as many as 15 guests. For a bigger group, the company’s new summer drive-in series, Cars Under the Stars, takes over parking lots around the city.

According to the link for the new Drv-In supplied by BizBash, the address is 215 E. 4th St., which also happens to be the address for the very-much-still-open wine-and-tapas joint In Vino.


Or maybe the new location is the vacant storefront to the west of In Vino. Though that place still has a "For Rent" sign above it.

Hope for OTB: The end may not be so near

According to NY1:

A day after Mayor Michael Bloomberg said the end is near for the city's Off-Track Betting Corporation, Governor David Paterson said he is considering a state takeover of the organization. Bloomberg has threatened to close down the city's betting parlors on Sunday unless a permanent resolution can be reached that will not cost the city money. OTB actually generates $125 million a year in profits, but the city loses money because most of the revenue goes upstate to subsidize horse racing. Today Governor Paterson said he would explore every option to preserve the revenue and jobs that OTB generates. Nearly 1,500 workers would be out of a job if OTB shuts down.

Previous OTB coverage on EV Grieve can be found here.

No one is apparently approving the reader recommendations at visitnyc.com

How do I know this? Because I went to the site yesterday and started making stupid nightlife recommendations as part of the NYC & Company's "Just Ask The Locals" campaign. (According to the press release, "The site provides an expanded list of celebrity and local insider tips and top five recommendations, organized by Shopping, Dining, Arts & Entertainment and Nightlife. Visitors to the site also will be able to provide their own tips and ideas on how to navigate and experience the City.")

Why did I have such a mean-spirited high-school moment? Part of it was just wishful thinking. I wish that the Cedar Tavern didn't become a condo, for instance. Plus, I was actually curious if anyone was paying attention and patrolling the comments. More important, though, I'm tired of seeing these "Just Ask the Locals" ads everywhere. Seems as if I can't even walk to the bodega on my corner without seeing an ad with Mr. Mickey telling me about the lobby bar at the Bowery Hotel.

I don't mind real locals offering some advice to out-of-towners at the site, as we're invited to do. (Well, I mind a little bit...particularly when it's awful advice.) But! The site also features input from real celebrities! Say I'm from out of town looking for a place to go for a drink. Hmm, Sean "Diddy" Combs suggests a cocktail at the Mandarin Oriental. Perfect! Alan Cumming suggests the Box on the LES. Coltrane Curtis suggests the Beatrice Inn! Go the site and you'll see nuggests like this:

"If you are into clubs, I’d check out Butter, Marquee or 1 Oak." -- Sean "Diddy" Combs

All places that even tourists might know about, and likely couldn't get into unless they were really wealthy and dressed the right way. Here's the thing, the campaign (and site) only caters to an upper-class demographic. (For example, the site lists the most popular hotels, shops and restaurants based on user page views. The top three hotels? The Waldorf, the Bowery Hotel and the W.) This is the sanitized, condofied city our leaders apparently want us to be. All nice and glossy and...

Oh, and there's a whole Sex and the City section on the site:

This is the Life.
This is New York City.™ This is home to Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda. This is a city known for its cutting-edge dining, shopping, entertainment, nightlife and culture. It’s where lines wrap around the block for a cupcake; where cosmos are sipped over conversation and where energy, excitement and style are found on every street. It’s classic and modern all at once with iconic landmarks that never lose their allure and new hotspots are constantly emerging. So whether you want to try the places made famous by Sex and the City or discover you own favorite locales—this is where it’s done. This is New York City.

Related: Et Tu, Debbie? (Flaming Pablum)

By the way, I don't have an approval system for this site. Yet.

Hot in the city (1910-1915 style)

The Library of Congress has a photostream at Flickr that includes archival photos of Manhattan. Given the diabolical heat of late, these seemed approriate to post; to see how those before us coped with the heat.

Caption reads, "Fountain, Madison Square Park on a hot day." (Where's Shake Shack?)

No mention where this was taken. Just a note about a man cooling his head on a hot day.

Caption reads, "Asleep in Battery Park on hot day." (Maybe they're just waiting for the new Apple iPhonograph to be unveiled.)

Caption reads: "Milk House, Tompkins Sq.; hot day."

Meanwhile, I wouldn't mind this scene in Union Square for a few minutes right about now...

Speaking of hot . . . checking in at the FunHouse Disco

So what is this? According to the YouTube description: "New York Hot Tracks visits the popular FunHouse Disco on 26th St. in Manhattan NYC 1984. Carlos DeJesus introduces Adam from Canarsie. Adam does some Buggin also known as kick dancing. This style of dance was unique to the club in the early 1980's."

Two for Tuesday -- Suicide

(For no reason. Just an appreciation.)

"Hanging out on the Lower Worst Side"

During my walk around the neighborhood Saturday, I came across a rummage sale in one of the community gardens on East 8th Street. (They seem to hold sales fairly often on weekends in the summer.) The garden is sandwiched between two buildings...million-dollar condos on the left, and a multimillion-dollar residence with a ground-floor apartment to help off-set the monthly bills.

By the way, 337 E. 8th Street, the address of the schmancy house, was the address of 8bc, the performance space/club/gallery that saw the likes of They Might Be Giants, Karen Finley and Steve Buscemi take the stage during its run from 1983-85. This was before my time here. So I always appreciate hearing stories about the place.

Meanwhile, here's a passage on 8bc by Cynthia Carr from the Times in 2006. The piece is titled Hanging out on the Lower Worst Side:

I remember walking down Avenue B with friends one night around 1983 when we ran into the two artists who had just opened 8BC, soon to become the East Village’s hottest club. They told us that if we wanted to perform (though none of us were performers), we were welcome. By then, I had also been invited to join a band, and I can’t sing or play.
The art world had cracked open, shaken by punk, which embraced ugliness and urban decay while putting a lot of old categories in question. What was music anymore when some of those No Wave records could clear a room? This was the era when everything could be tried, and there was space for the tryout.
This was the neighborhood I used to call the Lower Worst Side. 8BC occupied the basement of an old farmhouse. At least, that’s how people always described that building.

Meanwhile, in another piece from the Times on the Lower East Side music scene from 1988:

THE Lower East Side has often been treated as a neighborhood producing one sort of music, neatly categorizable and easily stuffed away with the dirty laundry. But when historians of the Lower East Side reconsider the facts, the 1980's will be thought of as an immensely diverse, fecund era for music. The composers and improvisers John Zorn, Elliott Sharp and Wayne Horvitz have broken out of their turf, gaining a larger audience as they reached artistic maturation. The intense and radical social criticism of rock groups like the Swans and Sonic Youth, and the once endless stream of legendary clubs (now curtailed by real-estate prices), from 57 Club and 8BC to the still-vital CBGB and the new Knitting Factory, will make the 80's sound like Eden.

Dumpster of the Day

On 14th Street just east of First Avenue.

Getting a Handle on the new yogurt place

I walked by the soon-to-open shop at 153 Second Ave., situated between Ryan's and the Thirsty Scholar, that will sell self-service frozen yogurt.

After I snapped this photo, a man walked out of the shop. I asked him when they would be opening for business. He paused for so long, I got the idea that he had nothing to do with the place and maybe just happened by to steal tools or something. He finally said "maybe in a couple of months." Dunno how reliable that is. You'd think they'd want to be open for the summer...

I've lost track at all the dessert joints along here for tourists and NYU kids. There's the Tasti-D-Lite across the street. And the fat, bald guy's chocolate place. And the 8-9 or so Berry places on St. Mark's...And how many things have given this spot a go in recents years? La Ame Russe? Barracuda Bistro?Bandito?

Because ugly dishwashers aren't welcome?

I have no idea when Link Restaurant and the adjacent cafe space closed on 15th Street and Irving Place. I went to Link once for a beer before a show at the Irving Plaza. I think my beer cost me more than my ticket to the show.

Anyway! The new place going in that spot is now hiring. And you have the option of sending them a photo with your résumé.

The Tower of Toys stood here

"It was a douchefest much like last year's"

Every year I'm offered to tickets to go to the Belmont Stakes, every year I politely decline. And every year I'm so happy that I declined.

And yesterday? Gawker's Richard Blakely had this report last night:

"I had the great misfortune of going to The Belmont Stakes today. It was a douchefest much like last year's. I waited in a long line to use the restroom for about 30 or so minutes and when I finally got to the front I overheard someone say, 'Hey look at that guy, he can't wait and he's just pissing in the trash bin." Just then someone else corrected him and said, 'Oh no, the bathrooms in the entire complex are out, this is the line to piss in the trash can.' It was at that point that the place started to look more like the convention center after Katrina.

Ugh. The Times had this to report:

The scorching heat at Belmont Park on Saturday took its toll on everyone — the jockeys, the horses, the fans, and perhaps more than anyone else, the people waiting in line for the restrooms.
The temperature was 96 degrees at its peak and Belmont seemed to be unprepared for the demand for water. John Lee, the director of communications for New York Racing Association, said that the water had to be shut off in places and the pressure was lowered everywhere else to help conserve it.
“The problem didn’t come to light until there was extremely high usage,” he said.
Women began using men’s restrooms and lines went more than 50 sweating, complaining people deep.

Gawker commenter MrInBetween had this to say:

I pissed in a barrel after a 20 minute wait ... On the way out of that shit-box, a drunken frat boy . . . stepped on my foot, then told me to "fuck off." I had to be restrained from ripping his head off. I wish I had; it would have redeemed the day.

Blakely also posted this comment:

And this photo pretty much summed up the entire day...

Plus, of course, Big Brown lost.

And we still may be losing the OTBs.

"Every year since I've arrived there have been people crying that it was not like it was before"

That's Florent Morellet, owner of the soon-to-close Florent, in a Q-and-A in today's Post.

An excerpt:

Some people blame "Sex and the City" for the gentrification of the area.

I totally disagree. These are societal changes. We love to simplify things as humans and put labels on things. So the 18th century in France was Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI and a couple of writers. You put some people in charge of some periods. They say I made the meat market. I could have died from the whooping cough at age 5 - which I almost did - and I don't think it would have made a difference in the [area]. Some people put [the gentrification] on Pastis, some people put it on Jeffrey opening, other people put it on the Gansevoort Hotel. It's all of us. Every year since I've arrived there have been people crying that it was not like it was before.

But has it changed for the better?

Let me tell you, in the early '90s, the neighborhood really was so scary with the crack epidemic. The people who feel nostalgic were not coming then. That was the year we actually lost money. I think people don't remember. We had to leave the restaurant in groups of three because almost all of us got mugged. Memory is a beautiful thing and it's totally influenced by emotions - mine as much as anyone's.

Breaking, exclusive: It's hot out

Today's high: 94

Meanwhile, just 12 days until summer! Let's celebrate.

"I remember seeing Dylan in the Village..."

I kind of dread the day I hear that and the (presumably young and dumb) person isn't referring to Bob.

“When I go out my door now, I don’t see anyone I know. I see the loss of a community.”

[Image by Clayton Patterson]

The new issue of The Brooklyn Rail has a great feature on Clayton Patterson, the artist and documentarian who has been chronicling the changes in the Lower East Side since he first set up shop here in the early 1980s. Some of his 100,000 photos and 10,000 hours worth of footage went into Captured, which debuts Friday at The Rooftop Film Festival. "The film is as much a biopic of the neighborhood as it is a portrait of Patterson himself," according to the article by Jericho Parms

Here's an excerpt from the article:

When the Lower East Side took hold of Clayton Patterson, it never let go. He speaks of it as “a magic crucible that everything else would come out of.” In the last decade, he believes, he’s seen the end of that era as soaring real estate prices have begun to empty the village of its artists, bohemians, radicals and immigrants.
“When I go out my door now, I don’t see anyone I know. I see the loss of a community.” Patterson notes the changes—the cranky old tailor is gone, a trendy café bar bought out the Latino grocery on the corner. Still, there is a good chance that any person that walked the streets or attended an event in “the deep pool that is the Lower East Side” in the past two decades can be found somewhere in the Clayton Patterson archives. And, in that sense, they will live on forever.

Here's a trailer for the film:



Here's an article on Patterson from the Times.

Angie's got a three-floor gun

Happy Belmont Stakes Day (and so long OTB?)

Affirmed vs. Alydar -- best rivalry in sports history? And how about that 1978 Belmont Stakes race in the video above? Best ever?

Meanwhile, head to your local OTB parlor today to make your bet(s). The parlors are expected to close June 15. In fact, more than 1,000 OTB workers were just sent their pink slips. As the Times put it in a Feb. 22 feature: If OTB Goes, So Would a Relic of a Grittier City

Previously on EV Grieve:
So long, OTB (and happy Derby day)

Bonus:
A photo taken outside the OTB in Chinatown by Alison Grippo (via Flickr)

Weekend getaway

Let's take a trip back to Coney Island in the 1940s...

Bring it on (aka GOP Hard)

The Battle of the Bowery continues...On Page Six. Yesterday, we learned the New York Young Republican Club held a monthly social event at the Bowery Wine Company, which Bruce Willis has something to do with. In response to comments made by John Penley in April, one young GOPper told Page Six, "Needless to say, we're going to fill his neighborhood whether he likes it or not. We're coming with briefcases and BlackBerrys in hand to stake our claim."

And today?

The Bowery turf war between yuppie Republicans and local lefties will resume next Friday, when East Village gadfly John Penley will lead a demonstration in front of the Bowery Wine Co. with the Rev. Frank Morales of St. Mark's Church. Besides protesting "right-wing Republicans [a reference to Bruce Willis] opening yuppie wine bars in our neighborhood," as Penley put it, the rabble-rousers will blast the court decision allowing the owner of the tenement at 47 E. Third St. to evict his tenants so he can use the building as a one-family mansion. The New York Young Republican Club, which just held its monthly social at the Bowery Wine Co., is invited to counter-demonstrate - but, Penley told Page Six, "they have to show up in suits carrying briefcases so we can tell them apart."

Anyone know what time the demonstration will take place next Friday...?

Earlier on EV Grieve:

"We want to show our opposition to right-wing Republicans opening yuppie wine bars in our neighborhood"

The Lower East Side: There goes the neighborhood

That's the headline for the May 28, 1984, New York magazine cover story that I recently came across. The piece begins in the early 1980s with the rotting hulk of the Christodora and the young man eager to own it, Harry Skydell.

Skydell's enthusiasm was indeed mysterious. The sixteen-story building he wanted to buy, on Avenue B facing Tompkins Square Park, was surrounded by burned-out buildings that crawled with pushers and junkies. It was boarded up, ripped out, and flooded...Early in the seventies, the city had put up the Christodora up for auction and nobody bid.

The building was eventually sold in 1975 for $62,500. (Last I saw, two-bedroom units there -- roughly 1,100 square feet -- average $1.6 million or so. Of course, they're rarely available.)

The article talks about the influx of chain stores, art galleries and chic cafes. "And real-estate values are exploding" as a result. Said one longtime resident on the changes: "I've lived in my rent-controlled apartment for years and pay $115 a month. I live on the Lower East Side. The young kids who just moved in upstairs and pay $700 a month for the same space -- they live in the East Village."

There are so many interesting passages in the article by Craig Unger that I'd end up excerpting the whole thing. So it's below. You can click on each image to read it. Meanwhile, what do you think would be the headline for this story today?

I SO hope my new fake ID works this weekend!

Random gripe of the day

The music played at the new bar comes from the iPod owned by the 23-year-old bartender (UES resident?), which makes you long for the quality of, say, Z-100.

[Warning: More gripes TK.]

Stoop-id tourists

Jeremiah bravely ventured into the belly of the SATC beast yesterday to see what the real people who live in the fake Carrie Bradshaw house think of the constant stream of tourists who simply must get their photo taken on the stoop.

And?

Who could blame them.


Still, sign or not, the fans will not be denied!


(The caption with this photo on Flickr reads, "In front of Carrie Bradshaw's stoop. & yes, there is a sign that says "PRIVATE PROPERTY, TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED". Fuh real!)

Meanwhile, back to the kitchen for me. So much more baking to do!

[Updated! Jeremiah joined the SATC consumer orgy yesterday as well! With pictures!]

Remembering New York hard-core

As you can see, the May 26, 1986, issue of New York magazine featured the cover story titled "Hard-core Kids: Rebellion in the Age of Reagan."

(Deeplinking.net has a pdf of the article here.)

Anyway, the article caused quite a stir! How do we know? Because Phil Donahue tackled the topic, in an episode featuring the author, Peter Blauner, and members of Youth of Today, Murphy's Law, Agnostic Front and the Cro-Mags, among others.



What did Blauner have to say about all this later?

[Thanks to flanagan11 and deeplinking.]

The other side of the story: the Alistair Economakis Web site

Alistair Economakis, owner of 47 E. 3rd St, has his own Web site called the other side of the story.

Here's what he has to say about his building and his family's plans for it.

In April 2007 my family and I moved into the space available to us and have made 47 East 3rd Street our home. Unfortunately, however, due to tenants remaining in apartments, our living space is not contiguous and we are required to go through the public hallway to get from one part of our home to the other. Despite the awkward set up of our living space, we are thrilled to finally be living in our building and we love our neighborhood.

For the rest of the other side of the story, go to his site.

[Photo via Flickr by trickydame]

Green...with envy

No, you're not just extra hungover this morning. The New York Post is green today...As the cover line says, the Post "is greener with less paper and fewer ads. Enjoy." It's part of a promo for planet green, the first all green tv network that debuts tonight at 6. (Reminder to self: be sure to turn on my huge, electricity-sucking plasma-screen TV at 6 to watch!)

Uh, meanwhile, the environmentalists at the Post included in this issue a 50-plus page glitzy Home & Design ad supplement touting "Living at its Best!" The lavish supplement includes all the luxury developments that you will never be able to afford...there's Ariel...The Brompton...The Harrison...Sky House...and on Pages 28 and 29 -- something called AZURE. Hmm, haven't I read about that place recently?

"We'll just stitch together a few shower curtains from the 99-cent store and no one will be able to tell the street is missing!"

As I've mentioned before, there's not much -- if any -- street left on Fulton Street. So somebody recently had the idea to brighten up the pedestrian crossings on Fulton Street with these cheap-looking, flowery screens. As if these will make us not notice this:

If you must know...

Along Nassau Street. There's probably a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why the shopkeeper decided to let his or her valued customers know that it was a cousin who passed and not an aunt or uncle or someone else. (And does this inclusion feel like an afterthought?)