Monday, December 31, 2007

2007 Vanishings

From the very old to the very young, New York lost many good things this year. The leading cause of death was greed, though there were a few other causes, such as structural collapse or a family death. The majority just couldn't pay the rent in this city. My choices came from the pages of this blog, and I am sure I've missed many. Please add your own favorites in the Comments section.

Hilly Kristal is the only person I listed, but I think of the many others who've vanished, not only to death, but eviction. Like the residents of the Breslin Hotel and other victims of development, eminent domain, and rising rents. New York is hemhorraging creative people.

I added Chumley's because while they claim to be rebuilding, whatever rises will not be the same, and Chumley's, the original, is surely dead.

That's it for the notes. I think the list, with its links and tally of years, can speak for itself. Combined, we've seen close to 1,000 years of New York history vanish in 2007.




1551 Broadway: 112 years old

Gertel's: 93 years old

The Playpen Theater: 91 years old



Chumley's: 79 years old

Jade Mountain: 76 years old

Hilly Kristal (& the spirit of CBGB's): 75 years old



Gordon Novelty Shop Signage: 73 years old

Moondance Diner: exact age unknown, in its 70s

Kurowycky Meats: 52 years old



The Funny Store: 50 years old

Copeland's: 49 years old

Donuts Coffee Shop: 32 years old



Sucelt: 31 years old

Teresa's: approximately 22 years old

Dick's Bar: age unknown

7th Avenue Books: 6 years old

Donuts Coffee Shop

VANISHED: December 28, 2007

Unable to get to Park Slope on Friday, I sent one of my tipsters to the scene. She arrived in the afternoon and while there were still a handful of donuts in the window (including crullers cinnamon and frosted) and a couple of regulars at the counter, the owners waved her away as they stood counting their last dollars from the register.



She stood across the street and snapped a few pictures of the place, the sign already taken down, as people walked past, many of them waving in through the diner's window, saying goodbye as they headed into the Associated to do their grocery shopping.



The Associated will soon be expanding into the Donuts Coffee Shop space.

Barnes & Noble Astor Place

VANISHED: December 31, 2007

It is with great ambivalence that I report on the last day of the Astor Place Barnes & Noble. Tomorrow, the book behemoth will be gone. In the meantime, they are having the crappiest 50% off sale ever--unless you're in the market for military history pictorials, diet books, and calendars featuring golden retrievers.



I'm supposed to hate chains. For the record, I don't. I hate the chains' proliferation and domination of this city. I hate the way they're turning the city into a mall. A couple here and there would not be a problem.

About Barnes & Noble I am quite conflicted. I resent their awesome power in the book world (their buyers dictate what gets published and what doesn't), but I also love books. And I like them a lot more than gym rats, who will soon flock to the David Barton that is rumored to move in. Also, B&N is a public space of sorts--we can all go inside that beautiful old building and enjoy it. A gym is members-only space.



I admit, I will miss the place. But my hope is that, with B&N gone, the few independents it didn't kill will thrive and more will open.

The folks at St. Mark's Books are already freaking out a little. I'm freaking out a little--because the small shop is packed already with people who don't normally shop there. This means you can forget about a calm, pleasant browsing experience--expect to be pushed and shoved. The cashier told me they've been gearing up for the post-Barnes & Noble flood, pumping up their inventory.

I asked if they'd be changing to appeal to their new customers. Thankfully, he denied any plans to stock up on self-help books and puppy calendars.

Friday, December 28, 2007

Yes! This Is Charlie's

After spotting this sign in the window of a five-and-dime on 14th Street between A & B, I went inside and took a look around. The 41-year-old place is exactly the way it was described in the Voice 7 years ago. Ancient wooden tables hold plastic tubs full of greeting cards, each hand-labeled according to its intended receiver: Niece, Nephew, Mother, Father, etc. Bigger tubs hold a random assortment of books.



There's a toy section on the wall where you can find small bags of plastic dinosaurs or cowboys or zoo animals. There are paper streamers, paper plates, paper cups, and an abbreviated collection of piggy banks, figurines, and coffee mugs. For the season, you can also find foil-paper party hats and noisemakers that say Happy New Year.

I talked a bit with the manager, Danny, who is the grandson of Charlie. He told me they used to have many stores in the area, each with a different theme. "We're a community service more than a regular business," he said, "People come in here and tell me they still have glassware they bought from us years ago, or shoes or furniture. The old people come in from Stuyvesant Town, just to visit and talk. If we weren't here, they wouldn't come out at all. It gives them some exercise."



About 15 years ago, the landlord tried to raise the rent 400%, but protesters, politicians, and newscameras came and Yes! This Is Charlie's stayed. Now they need help again. Protests and politics aren't going to cut it this time. They need financial help. They need a grant. Or an angel investor.

If anyone knows an angel, please send them to Charlie's. And even if you don't know any angels, go to Charlie's anyway and buy some paper hats and noisemakers. They may not be there long after the New Year.

*Everyday Chatter

Is the obnoxious A Building condo-mega-plex ashamed of the fact that their ass-end hangs out on still-gritty East 14th Street? This perplexing signage at that site seems to say so: "Walk to either corner...go to 13th Street...walk to the middle of the block. Why are you still standing here?"


Zips Deli, long on 5th and B, is being gutted. Its quirky outside paintings of sandwiches are covered with stickers and ads. Any ideas about what's coming to this now-precious corner?


Here's an inside look at the current state of Chumley's. It's pretty miserable. I have little hope it will ever be the same again. [Eater]

Today is the final day for Donuts Coffee in Park Slope--was anybody at the sad scene? [Observer]

Vazacs Horseshoe Bar/7B gets into the holiday spirit with faux-snow stencils of angels, reindeer, snowflakes, and...naked mudflap girls? (she's in the middle left-most pane)


Racked racks up the top 5 most depressing retail closings of 2007. I agree with 4 out of the 5 (Gotham Book Mart, Fontana Shoe Repair, Kurowycky Meats, and Gertel's) but Condomania would not have made my list. The Funny Store only got honorable mention? And what about our beloved Playpen? [Racked]

The Cedar Tavern, ersatz as it might be, looks like it may never come back. At least we could go there and pretend--and the upstairs, with its dark wood booths and amber lamps, felt like the real thing. [Curbed]

I love coming across a vintage sign with old telephone exchange letters on it. Here's one on 14th and A. ORegon-3 was designated for the Lower East Side and I assume Permacut's number has been the same for many years. Do they still offer permanent waving?

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Christmas Trees & Canadians

VANISHED (until 11/08)

After every Christmas, we wake to find the trees have vanished. The Quebecois who brought them have left us after a whole month of filling our streets with impromptu forests and the sweet, sticky fragrance of pine. And, every year, I miss them when they go.

“People in New York have a romantic idea about us,” one tree lady told me, “They come by and say, ‘Oh, you must feel right at home with all these trees, like in a forest.’ Then I tell them I live in Montreal. A big city. They look disappointed.”



That romantic idea might come from French-Canadian folklore, where the coureur-de-bois (literally “runner of the woods”) stands as a vivid heroic figure, a carefree adventurer decked out in fringed buckskin and moccasins, trekking and trading across the great northern wilderness. History tells us that the coureur-de-bois have disappeared and yet, every year, truckloads of their descendants head for New York, bringing a little bit of the Canadian wilderness with them.

Many of us go out of our way just to walk past their trees, to press our faces into the boughs and breathe deep. We can’t resist. “New York people like to smell the trees,” the tree lady told me, “They stop and tell me ‘Thank you for being here.’”



People give the tree lady cups of coffee, magazines to read, even the keys to their apartments so she can have a hot shower once in a while (she's out in the cold 16 hours a day and sleeps in a van). But not everyone loves the tree lady. Some people let their dogs urinate on her trees, and some call her a tree killer. She doesn’t get that.

“The tree is grown in a farm, like the food we eat, like potatoes. If I eat the potato, are you going to say, ‘Hey, potato killer’?"



The tree lady explained, "The tree is like flowers. It’s a simple way to make happiness, to bring some warmness in the house. Plus, it’s good energy. Feng Shui recommends to have real vegetables in the house. Like flowers.

It’s better to buy a tree than to say ‘Oh, I feel sad, I want to buy a sweater or I want to buy shoes.’
We’re consumers, yes, but I think this is a good part of the consummation about Christmas. The tree is something everyone can share.”


Santa deflated

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Inside the Playpen Demolition

On my way to Port Authority last week, I passed the Playpen, or what's left of it. All that is standing, from what I can tell, is the front part's rear wall. The demolition guys let me sneak back and snap a few shots before they waved me away.



In the tangled mess, I recognized a sign that said ROOM, which, if I recall correctly, was the second half of the sign for MALE ROOM, the gay space on the Playpen's second floor. Below, an EXIT sign is visible on the wall. The door opens onto empty space.

Next to those small twin windows, you can see the remains of a filigreed detail, the leafy leitmotif between the cameos seen in the vintage photo below.



The little windows look to me like the portholes of a projectionist's booth. If that's the case, then we are probably looking at the back wall of the original balcony--a space that later became a spot for buddy-booth handjobs. In the MALE ROOM, you could also get up close and personal with those cameos, covered in porn-palace glitter.


vintage photo from photobucket

And from the front, the entire facade is gone, with its columns and cameos. This green wall may have been inside the projectionist's booth. Who knows what went on in there during the Playpen's porno days. If only this crumbling wall could talk.


*Everyday Chatter

Sucelt is gone. I had my last meal there last week, but with my freezer stuffed with Jehnny's beef empanadas, the love will go on a little longer. My last Sucelt arepa:


AMNY also visited La Taza de Oro. Without Sucelt, it's a last survivor from Chelsea's days as a center for Latin food. [AMNY]

Here comes the newest erection to rise above the Bowery, overshadowing the Salvation Army, which will probably turn into condos any day now. [Curbed]

Another repair service evicted--this time it's a tailor. In our disposable culture, why bother to stitch and fix the old when you can just buy new? [Pardon Me] [Lost City]

Friday, December 21, 2007

Time Machine



May I suggest a perfect evening: An early dinner at Sucelt, then cross the street for dessert at Donut Pub, then head upstairs (next door and one flight up) for cocktails at Time Machine.



Until Sunday, from 3:00 until closing (about 7:00), Time Machine is having their annual Holiday Open Bar. And if you've never been to the 10-year-old shop, this would be a great time to check it out. It may be the only business in New York that advertises the sale of Nostalgia.





Above the 99-cent-store (closed, for rent), climb the stairs into a cluttered yet orderly collection of cardboard boxes filled with old magazines, most of them 40% off. The owner told me, "We always haggle," so don't be afraid to make a deal. It's worth going up just to look at the walls, a collection of movie stars, cowboys, rock-n-roll idols, beefcake models, pin-up girls, and superheroes.

With free cocktails added to the mix, what could be better?


Julius' Bar



Now that Dick's bar has become the fratty 12th Street Ale House, where can you go for a gay dive-bar experience? The answer is Julius' bar on 10th and Waverly. In fact, go there for the vintage-bar experience, because Julius' is one of the oldest, unchanged bars in town.



No one seems to know when exactly it opened, but the best guess is 1867 -- the same year that the Jacob Ruppert Brewery opened in Yorkville, on the Upper East Side. Julius' tables, chairs, and bar are made from the brewery's wooden barrels and they're stamped "Jacob Ruppert." (The brewery was replaced by Ruppert Towers, an example of architectural "brutalism.") The footrail at Julius' bar is a string of beagles standing nose to tail and cast in brass. "We think the original owner liked beagles," the bartender told me. (Though the breed is debatable--some say those dogs are Bassett hounds).



One wall is covered with framed photographs of the once-famous. None of them were recognizable to me. They are slick-haired men and women in furs, a few naked burly-Q girls, a couple of boxers. The bar may have come out of the Civil War and gone through days as a speakeasy, but the feeling you get is very 1950s. On another wall, Walter Winchell tells you why he loves Julius' and Eddie Condon poses with '50s burlesque queen Lois DeFee.



There is little in Julius' that marks it as a gay men's bar. A softball trophy reads, "It's not easy being the queen," and the straw I got in my mug of Coke happened to be pink. If you go on a weekday morning (Julius' opens at 11:00), you'll encounter a few regulars, older men in Yankees caps who sit and talk about the weather. In the evenings, it's livelier and gayer, but no less gray. The kitchen, a grill in the corner, is cooking delicious burgers and fries, and the TV is tuned to Jeopardy.



Unlike other old bars, like McSorley's, Corner Bistro, and Chumley's, where you can only go during the day because the nights have been overtaken by frat boys, tourists, and girls with pointy shoes, Julius' has stayed authentic. I am sure that's due to the gay factor, which protects Julius' as one of New York's best-kept secrets. The patrons will not tolerate idiotic, yuppie behavior. These guys went through Stonewall -- they are not afraid to kick some hetero ass.



The bar is quiet enough and friendly enough that, if you're chatty, you can have fantastic conversations with men who knew the Village way back when. And who knows how long this will last? Julius' has survived building collapse and seizures, and the landlord seems to support the bar. Said the bartender, "As long as the owner of the building stays alive, Julius' will stay alive." He figures at least another decade.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

*Everyday Chatter

I am still in shock from this sudden news: Beloved East Village dives Sophie's and Mona's are up for sale! Says the owner of both, "The neighborhood has changed so much...I love both bars, but they're dinosaurs now." [Page 6 via Gothamist]

Speaking of dinosaurs, more news from our disposable culture: Check out the TV repair shop carnage. [Pardon Me via Gowanus L]

Regarding Bloomberg's assault on small businesses, a recent commenter here noted, "it amazes me that there's no large campaign...like shirts or buttons with bloomberg's face with an x through it." Good question. In the 1990s, we had images like the one below all over the city. Why not now?

painting by Robert Lederman

Streit's is leaving the Lower East Side and taking their matzos with them. And so the Jewish Lower East Side fades further into history. [Curbed]

Rockaway in Winter

Is no place safe from the yunnies? Here they are, stepping out of their new, butter-yellow, luxury oceanfront condo for a walk down Rockaway Beach. The gals hold on to their jaunty straw hats while the fellas look forward to shedding their Dockers and enjoying some fellatio under the boardwalk. Ah, dreams of summer in the midst of winter's grip.


Belle Shores: Live in a tacky wedding cake for $439,900!

But what's this? Is it possible Rockaway's glut of condos isn't selling? Here they're offering tax abatements and free common charges. Maybe there is hope.



Maybe it's Rockaway's resistance to glamor that keeps the yunnies from flocking en masse. It's way, way out there. And in winter it's a rough place to be. The streets are desolate except for a few schizophrenics muttering on the corners and drunks wobbling their way down Beach 116th. The bars are rough, too.



Remnants from the Irish Riviera days, there's the Tap & Grill clam bar, PJ Curran's, and Rogers Irish Tavern, which was established in 1919. Of course, like most Irish bars, they only look mean from the outside. But don't tell the yunnies that, they might take Curran's "Chardonnay Way" sign seriously.



And we wouldn't want this melancholy little tobacconist/ice cream counter, that still has the swivel stools but may or may not have actual fountain service, to turn into a Cold Stone Creamery.





Here's to Rockaway--keeping it real.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

*Everyday Chatter (Special Gold Shit Edition)

Now the yunnies want even their shit to be laced with gold. And they're willing to pay for it, thanks to this repulsive little offering from the delightful New Museum on the Bowery. Please tell me this is a joke. [Gothamist]

Cooper Hotel developer says "cities should not be museums." I guess they should be playgrounds for people who shit gold instead? [Observer via Curbed]

A grim round-up of 2007's vanished greats. What will take their places? People who shit gold. [Lost City]

"She's special, like me." The MyTwinn Doll provides the littlest yunnies with their very own clone, perfect training for a narcissistic adulthood. She has hair like me, freckles like me, she dresses like me...and she even shits gold like me! Now that would be special.

A. Fontana will be gone soon, but there are still a few good shoe repair shops left in town. At least in Brooklyn. (Sorry, I just couldn't work the shitting gold theme into this one.) [Bklynometry]

Last week I posted about the anonymous protest against the BBQ-turned-North-Fork bank. Since then, passersby have added their own notes to the taped-on signs, mostly polite stuff like "I agree" and "Me too." Now Alex in NYC reveals the protesters are skipping Scotch tape and going straight for good old Magic Marker. Doesn't that just make you want to shit gold? [Flaming P]

The Donut Pub



After yesterday's depressing news about A. Fontana Shoe Repair's imminent closing (not to mention the shuttering of Park Slope's gorgeous Donuts Coffee Shop), I thought we needed a little life preserver thrown our way and donuts are just the right shape for the job.

Since 1964, The Donut Pub has been going strong at 14th St. and 7th Ave. Not long ago, Dunkin Donuts moved in a few doors down, no doubt in hopes of viciously knocking out the competition. But even in Goliath's shadow, The Donut Pub has stayed afloat.



When you go there, you are recognized. You are greeted. It feels good. After a couple of visits, the Pub employees will know you. Once you become a regular, they'll inquire about your vacation, your kids, your dog. And if you're sleepy, they'll even let you take a nap.



The last time I went in, a homeless woman was fast asleep, her head resting on the counter. A guy ordering coffee to go asked, "Is she okay?" The counterman looked at him and smiled, "Oh yeah, she's fine. She's just tired." Try that at Dunkie's.

P.S. The Donut Pub is right across the street from doomed little Sucelt. Make a trip to each-- dinner at Sucelt and dessert at the Pub--before it's too late, which will be next week for Sucelt.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

A. Fontana Shoe Repair

VANISHING: Spring 2008



After 45 years in its East Village location on 10th across from Saint Mark's Church, A. Fontana Shoe Repair is closing down for good. I went in this morning to buy a can of weatherproofing spray and the owner, Mr. Angelo Fontana, told me he'll be gone in about three months. The rent is going too high.

"Soon," he said of the city, throwing up his hands in futility, "there will be no more barbershop, no more shoe repair, no more tailor." That's the new New York. Now there is no place left for what The Washington Post called "one of the world's best shoe repair shops."



I asked Angelo if I could take some pictures of his wonderful shop. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Everyone else is, why not?" He explained that The New York Times and a neighborhood paper, perhaps The Villager, will be visiting him this weekend to get their take on the story. Maybe they can coax more out of Angelo than I did -- he is a man of few words. But he did let me take plenty of pictures.



The shop is a time capsule, filled with wooden shoe lasts, fragrant jars of gooey glue, ancient machines outfitted with spinning brushes and buffers, and an assortment of tools that look like they came over from Mr. Fontana's native Italy sometime in the early 20th century. Posters and calendars of Italia cover the walls. A rabbit-eared television plays silently on the counter.



And the place smells wonderful--like leather and glue and rubber. It's an old smell, a vanishing smell.

In his poem "Walking Around," a longtime favorite of mine, Pablo Neruda says that the smell of barbershops makes him break into hoarse sobs. Today, I would add that the smell of A. Fontana's cobbler shop gives me the same, sad, desperate feeling.

*Everyday Chatter



Now that Rosie & Ting's Chinese place is closed, the Mensans have had to move their "Friendly Friday" to Panchito's. You'd think geniuses would gather at a venue with a less silly name (though it did used to be the Fat Black Pussycat)...



...What is happening on this corner (10th St and 4th Ave) anyway? Next door Academy Records has closed, too, moving to 12th Street. Do I smell a big fat BANK coming down the pike? Doesn't take a Mensan to figure that one out. This corner is, after all, directly across the street from the Green East demolition where a hotel is rumored to sprout...



...But I could be wrong. My prediction about a bank coming to the spot currently being vacated by the Galaxy bodega may have been off the mark. Last night the man behind the Galaxy's counter told me a barbershop is coming. A barbershop? What is this, 1954? Could it be true?

In other chatter...

Not everyone's happy about a big ugly box blocking their view of the Brooklyn Bridge. [SBB]

This odd little low-rise in the Meatpacking District fascinates me with its heart-carved facade and For Lease sign hawking a historic cabaret with "highline patio" and "secret tunnels." If anyone else is curious about what's up with that, The Villager provides all the answers about a man who just might be the last surviving 70s-era NYC character in "MePa." [Villager]


A new East Village-based rant is born! Check out artist, writer (and VanishingNY commenter) Suzannah B. Troy's new blog.

Joining New York Lost and Twilight Becomes Night, there's a new vanishing New York documentary on the horizon and it's called...Vanishing New York. That title sounds awfully familiar. Anyway, the movie looks like a good one: Check out the trailer here.

Must everything in this city go upscale? Citifield, the bank-named park which replaces Shea Stadium, will be serving up "simple things" like lobster from a fancy-pants Fish Shack and possibly stuff from Shake Shack, which charges somewhere in the vicinity of $20,000 for two hours of private partying. Whatever happened to hot dogs and peanuts? [Grub St.]

Monday, December 17, 2007

Mobile City

In a city where real estate is hogged by banks and chain stores, where rent is way too high for small businesses to get a grip, we seem to be seeing more and more independent food trucks take to the streets.

I've visited the Treats Truck and Mud Truck's mendacious knock-off Love Truck. One recent Monday morning at 14th and 8th I came upon El Idolo taco truck. The driver was busy cleaning up after a long night of serving tacos, tostadas, and the like, which I hear are delicious. He told me he's on that corner usually from 9:00 pm until 6:00 am. I'll keep an eye out for him.



This past Friday night I encountered the new Wafels & Dinges Truck at Astor Place. Not really my scene--the truck was mobbed by a bunch of yunnies and touristy types. What is it about snack places with the word "Belgian" on their sign? That Pommes Frites joint is always swamped with giddy gaggles.



Anyway, it was a cold night and a hot waffle sounded pretty good, so I tried the Liege Wafel with Nutella. I chatted a bit with the waffle man. He's from Tunisia (his partner's the Belgian) and the truck's been around town for about three months. As I paid my 5 bucks (yikes) someone on the left whacked me with her giant handbag and someone on the right whip-creamed the elbow of my coat with his waffle.

My Liege and Nutella was yummy and warm, but far too sweet for my taste. If I try it again I'll take it plain--but I probably won't try it again, unless I have some out-of-town visitors who would "get a big kick" out of street waffles.



The point of all this is: I wonder, as the city becomes increasingly hostile to small business, will we see more and more mobile entrepreneurs? Will they expand to non-food items, like the lovely vintage knife-sharpening truck I am sometimes lucky to see?

Imagine a city built of nothing but glass towers filled with banks and Duane Reades, where everything interesting is on wheels. We'll have mobile art galleries, portable poetry readings, used-book mobiles, rolling burlesque shows, RVs featuring itinerant sex clubs and traveling piano bars.

And do you know what will happen then? Whoever the mayor is will enact a ban on these trucks. Then Chase Bank, Starbucks, and Rite-Aid will be given permits and exclusive territory rights for going mobile in their place.

You know I'm right on this one.

Friday, December 14, 2007

*Everyday Chatter

Which bank will it be moving in to the Big-Box Chelsea on 16th and 8th? Round and round she goes...and the winner is...Bank of America! (Thanks to the tipster who sent me this link.) Too bad, I was really hoping for a Commerce--those peppy little Commerce mascots make great punching bags.

Don't forget to visit Sucelt today to say goodbye and tell the newscameras you're mad as hell. You might even get a vintage Sucelt t-shirt.

North Fork is coming to the former site of BBQ on University and 8th, and an angry citizen has taped up a few signs, complete with enraged yellow highlighter and initial caps. It's a good start--but maybe writing it in acid on the glass would send a stronger message. Our side needs more criminals.



Twilight Becomes Night

For many beloved New York businesses death comes without much fight. In Bob Arihood's excellent East Village blog, Neither More Nor Less, he has a story this week about the impending eviction of Whole Earth bakery. He writes about how, the last time Whole Earth faced eviction, the community rallied and won them an extension. Such battles can be won again if people continue to fight.

Evidence for that is found in the wonderful short film Twilight Becomes Night by Virginie-Alvine Perrette. In it, the filmmaker profiles several small New York businesses that suffer in the city's over-success. There is much in the film to cry about and, at the end, I had tears in my eyes, but there is also something to celebrate: Independent Suba Pharmacy faced eviction twice, and twice its customers fought--and won--using petitions, boycotts, rallies, even phone calls to the bank that planned to move in, saying, "We will not use your services." The bank backed off. Suba still stands.


From 1990 - 2003, New York City lost 447 neighborhood pharmacies, a 28% decrease. In the same time period, the city gained 434 chain pharmacies—a 263% increase.

I interviewed Virginie over email and here's what she had to say:

What inspired you to make this film?

I was born in New York City, grew up here, and have a deep love for this city. After about ten years away for college and work, I came back--looking for the place I had left behind. It was instantly apparent to me that the city was changing in a way that was different from any other change I’d seen or read about before.


The Basket Shop closed in 2001 after 38 years. It is now in Brooklyn.

New York is vanishing every day, more and more. If you were to begin making this film today, what would you include?

I would like to have documented the transformation occurring on 9th Avenue between 42nd and 57th Streets. That strip was a little world unto itself of small stores and restaurants. It survived much longer than many other areas of New York today. And yet it has been devastating to watch block after block of that area be gutted and rebuilt with chains and banks. It is a microcosm of what is happening throughout the city, and yet its smaller scale makes it all the more noticeable.

People like to say, "NYC is always changing and always will." But I believe what's happening now is different. Why, in your opinion, is NY vanishing?

New York is defined by change and thrives on change. But this is different. It goes to the core of what makes the city unique, and gives the city its soul. As Isaac Fergusson, a NYC cab driver, says in the documentary: “New York has always been the engine of small business.” New York’s energy and character come, in part, from that belief that you can come here and start something small and grow it. Yet now it is harder and harder to start a small business here, let alone succeed. And without small shops of all sorts, New York City becomes some monolithic behemoth that is without community, diversity, humanity, or distinctive character. And we, as New Yorkers, lose our connections to one another.


Michael’s Barbershop closed in 2002 after 92 years. They did not reopen.

How do you think 9/11 hastened the vanishing?

I think the widespread closing of independent businesses started before 9/11. I think that as the city was “cleaned up" it also created a regulatory atmosphere that welcomed big business and made it administratively more difficult for small business to survive. It is my sense, from interviews with store owners, that 9/11 was all too often the final obstacle they could not overcome. It pushed them over the edge and forced them to close – yet they were already in a precarious position to begin with.


Manny and Eric Schwarz’s M&E Hardware closed in 2005 after 50 years. They did not reopen. Manny passed away soon after.

If you were Queen of New York, with unlimited power, what would you do to save our city?

I would offer rent subsidies to any store in need that could collect 100 names of support as being a store of value to a community. I would ban big box stores. I know they are convenient, but they decimate our communities. And over the long run they are not necessarily cheaper. I would penalize landlords who evict small businesses that have been around for years and then keep their stores vacant in hopes of getting higher rents. I would have an official “Kids Bring Your Parents to Your Favorite Neighborhood Store Day.” My feeling is that kids know the value of the neighborhood store – they feel safe there. And, lastly, I would create union-like organizations to represent and lobby on behalf of independent shops.

What can we do to save our city?

There are so many ways to affect change. You can simply make it a priority to choose your local store over a chain store, you can talk to your neighborhood store owners and find out what they are facing, you can organize a neighborhood committee to help store owners, you can write letters to your government representatives. For this reason, I am organizing screenings of Twilight Becomes Night followed by panel discussions that can offer specific ways to take action. There are many groups (listed on my website) that help cities and residents learn how to protect local business.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Say Goodbye to Sucelt


photo of Jehnny Navarro: The Villager

I had lunch today at Sucelt. With just over a week to go before they close on Christmas Eve, each lunch feels like the Last Supper. I ordered extra plantains, just to get as much as I could. I also placed an order for a dozen beef empanadas, for freezing and reheating after Sucelt is gone.

Like Romy Ashby said in a recent interview, when your friends are dying "you want to sit by their bedsides and tell them how much you love them."

Friday 12/14 is a good day to visit the deathbed of Sucelt and show it some love. Jehnny the owner told me that Channel 4 News will be there sometime around or after 4:00, and she would like to urge her fans to show up and tell the cameras how important such places are to the people of the city. (Call first to make sure it's happening: 212-242-0593.) Her mother will be there, too, the original Sucelt. And Jehnny is going to try and find some Sucelt t-shirts to give away. She says, "I'll be crying. I look okay now, but I'll be crying."

*Random Shots

Remember those kids who like to hang out on the new condo at 18th and 8th? Now they've started stabbing each other down the block, in front of the site for the new Big-Box Chelsea. The street yesterday was littered with blue rubber EMT gloves and wet splashes, but according to the news, the kids are alright:


The removal of some facade junk at a Times Square Building reveals "Toys Souvenirs" sign in an interesting typeface--1970s/early 80s is my guess:


This t-shirt logo really says it all. New York is one big Starbucks:

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

*Everyday Chatter

Yesterday I posted on the decapitation of the Playpen. Here's more news about the hotel that's coming to take its place. [Curbed] Wait--it gets worse: