Back to Bill's

The New York Times recently published "Making It Clubby," an interview with the decorator of the new Bill's, formerly Bill's Gay 90s. (The place opens next week.) A reader also sent in a bunch of photos some weeks back showing the state of poor, old Bill's in between the gutting and the redo. So, photos interspersed with quotes from the article:



"Her specialty is taking a space with New York history and breathing life into it by buffing up old surfaces and adding cool touches."



"the five-story 1890s brownstone had gone shabby in recent years, and the taps slowed to a trickle before the place closed nine months ago. 'It wasn’t living up to its potential,' said the decorator."



"'Often with restaurants, they don’t have a long life,' Ms. Sharpe said, taking a seat in a brown leather banquette upstairs. 'My job is to give them a classic aspect so people will come back.'"



Let's remember the real story of what happened here, shall we?

• Bill's Gay 90s was not shabby at all when the landlord refused to renew their lease this past spring--it had an already clubby, old-world atmosphere that was earned, a collection of antiques and real history amassed over a near-century of existence. 
• It didn't need to be given a classic "aspect," because it was an authentic classic.
• Business was brisk--the place breathed with life every night. 
• The restaurant had enjoyed an exceptionally long life, thriving since 1924. It lived up to its potential and then some. 
• And it didn't close--it was pushed out. As the owner wrote on the website, "Our landlord refused to renew our lease and after an 88 year run, we were forced to close." 

One more loss in the breakneck "race to acquire New York’s oldest, most storied properties." Let's hope this trend dies before we lose all of our greatest places.

the new Bill's

Previously:
Bill's Vanishes
Bill's Carted Away
Bill's Gay 90s
Bill's in Boardwalk Empire

Post-Sandy Mood

Two weeks since Hurricane Sandy hit and the malaise hangs on. The atmosphere itself seems saturated with it. I walked through the usually busy streets on Saturday and everything felt muffled, wrapped in gauze, quiet and restrained. It felt like the feeling before a storm, when strange things happen to the air pressure and everyone sits back, waiting for the skies to drop.

I wondered how the rest of New York City and surrounding areas were feeling. What's the mood out there? So I asked on Facebook and Twitter, and I talked to people, and here's what they said.


all the words: the bigger the word, the more people said it

"Tired" is the predominant feeling--represented by the largest type in this word cloud (I collapsed synonyms like "exhausted" into it, as with others). This tiredness is a tiredness that seems to go on and on, for those hit hardest and for those barely impacted. Most of us are tired.

Curiously, no one said they feel angry. They're frustrated and annoyed, resentful and cranky, but what about angry? Anger takes energy, and when you're exhausted, it's not easy to be angry.

Along with feeling exhausted, depressed, and worried, unmotivated and annoyed, many people are also feeling grateful and lucky--for not losing their homes or for just being alive in the midst of loss. Many feel hopeful. Several said they feel empathetic for those who are suffering.


just the "up" words

Despite some optimistic feelings, comments and conversations revealed a sense of surprise and discomfort with the post-Sandy mood. "It scares me how unmotivated I've become after Sandy," said one commenter. "I've been unusually tired," said another. "Strangely depressed," said another. People aren't feeling like themselves. It's as if we've been knocked out of our selves and turned into other, wearier, sadder people. This is true for those hit hard by Sandy, and for those barely touched. We're all impacted to some extent.

Many people said they felt guilty. Survivor guilt is a common occurrence "when a person perceives themselves to have done wrong by surviving a traumatic event when others did not."

A number of people expressed worry about continuing climate change and future problems. (Interestingly, squirrels and nuts came up a few times. Some discussed the abundance of acorns and the bushiness of squirrel tails and their relation to the climate. One commenter feels like a squirrel herself, saying it seems like "I need to collect a lot of nuts for a winter with no definite end." Of course, it makes sense that a destructive hurricane and a coming winter would make people concerned with the business of gathering and nesting.)


just the "down" words (some could go either way)

I keep thinking about the days and weeks after 9/11, how anxious I felt, and how anxious the city felt around me. We were mostly worried then. An exploding manhole cover could send pedestrians screaming "terrorists!" We were vigilant and jumpy, waiting for the next shoe to drop. But Sandy isn't goosing our anxiety in the same way. Mostly, she's bringing us down.

If you're feeling hopeless and sad, guilty and grieving, if you're thinking about hurting yourself, please talk to a friend and reach out to a professional. (Call 911 in an emergency.) As you can see, you are not alone in your feelings. And help is out there.

• If you don't have a therapist, find one near you on Psychology Today. You can also call your neighborhood clinic.
• The Mental Health Association of New York City has an excellent post-Sandy resource page on their website.
• Call 1-800-LIFENET for more resources in your area.
• Dial the national Disaster Distress Hotline: 1-800-985-5990.
• Samaritans is a 24/7 suicide hotline: 212-673-3000.

10th St. Glass

In 2007, we first heard that a string of buildings on East 10th Street would be razed for big-box construction. These buildings between Third and Fourth Avenues were once the epicenter of the Abstract Expressionist movement in the 1950s. They were not torn down. 

In 2008, we got word of more destruction--the corner was shuttered and gutted for an eventual teardown to make room for a luxury hotel. That still hasn't happened.

But there is some action on the block. Scaffolding recently came down off 84 E. 10th -- its bricks have been transformed into glass.

Containing an art gallery for many years, part of the 10th Street gallery "scene," this was once the home of the Off-Bowery Theater, where the New York Poets Theatre performed in the early 1960s, featuring Diane Di Prima, LeRoi Jones, and Michael McLure.

before photo via EV Grieve

The realtor's listing begs for a restaurant, or if not a restaurant, then a wine bar, gallery, fitness studio, or salon/spa.

And in the 1950s...

photo: James Burke for LIFE

Village Chess Shop

VANISHED

The Village Chess Shop has been at 230 Thompson Street since 1972. And now it's gone. A tipster sent in these photos of the empty windows and the "for sale: everything" signs. "They were cleaning out everything on Sunday and this is the empty storefront today," writes the tipster, who heard from the management company: "They were evicted."

The Chess Shop's Facebook page has officially announced: "Chess Shop is now closed however, it was a great 40 year run but while we attempted to preserve it, The Chess Shop became more of a curiosity or portrait than viable retail environment...Indeed, those who thoughtfully bid us farewell in the final days, admittedly had never set foot in the place lol...The Chess Shop lives on though. We'll be opening several smaller different type of sites for play, learning, competition and laughter...stay tuned."

photo: New York Magazine

I don't know how to play chess, but I always marveled, when walking on Thompson Street, that a little block could sustain not one, but two chess shops. I thought it made the street seem more gemutlich. Turns out, the two stores were bitter rivals. A former Chess Shop partner opened Chess Forum in 1995. Reported the Times, "Not since Bobby Fischer declared his last checkmate in 1972 has the downtown chess world been so torn asunder."

But The Chess Shop was there first, a classic. Its sidewalk was lined with battered tables and chairs for players to come together, its windows cluttered with odd and interesting chess sets. It had character. It felt like New York.

Here's how The Observer described The Village Chess Shop's owner: "Well into his 70′s, Mr. Frohlinde walks with a cane and speaks slowly with a thick German accent. He wore a brown leather jacket and the kind of bulky nerdy glasses sported by hip 30-somethings in the neighborhood; his thick, shoulder-length white hair hung messily under a wool hat. The outfit is one you’d see all the time in the East Village, but you get the sense Mr. Frohlinde was wearing the same thing well before it was cool. He was friends with Yoko Ono; casually references a conversation with Bertold Brecht; and had no idea who Russell Crowe was when the actor bought a $500 board a few years ago."

photo: Anomalous A's Flickr

The owner of the rival Chess Forum is hanging on, but as their owner said in 2008, "We are en route to vanishing." The Internet, of course, has been devastating--many people would rather play digital chess than to put their hands on the real thing.

Ghost Signs 1997

Reader Steve Fitch recently put together his slides of ghost signs from across the city, all taken in 1997, then he scanned them and got them up on Flickr for us to enjoy.

Some of my favorites: "Cooped Up? Feelin' Low? Enjoy a Movie Today." The best.

A lovely pawnbrokers' shop.

And our lost Amato Opera House--the mural vanished when NYU put up their dorm alongside it. Check out Steve's Flickr page for many more.

After Sandy

It's Monday and many of us are getting "back to normal" after the hurricane, while many others have a long way to go to normal.

You've seen the photos and the news footage: the buckled houses, homes sinking as if into quicksand, the boardwalks ripped up and scattered like busted piano keys, cars leapfrogging each other down the streets. You've seen the East River lapping, almost gently, over its barriers, and then the floodwaters that swamped Avenue C. You saw footage of the Con Edison plant on 14th Street explode into sick, green flashes of light like the coming of the alien invasion. You've seen the post-apocalyptic devastation in the Rockaways, like the bombing of Dresden, and the misery in Staten Island. And you've seen the people crying, digging through Dumpsters for food, begging Bloomberg to do something.

Maybe you are one of those people. Maybe you're among them, helping. Or maybe you spent the night looting their homes. This week we've seen both the horrors and the wonders of humanity.

But there is one burden we all share: We invited Sandy to our shores. The product of human-induced climate change, we invited her with our burning of fossil fuels, our hunger for convenience and speed, our selfishness. We're all guilty to some extent or another. We must not turn away from this painful truth.

Diesel Jeans ad

We also invited her by voting for politicians who don't put the environment at the top of the priority list. Tomorrow, we have a chance to at least vote against a man who thinks the rising of the oceans is a joke, who believes global warming isn't happening, and who probably doesn't care what happens to Earth when he's gone because he'll be the God of planet Kolob by then.

Avenue C and 8th St.

It's time to get our heads out of the sand, as we dig out from Sandy, and face reality. Our planet is warming, our oceans are rising, we will be inundated again and again if we don't take action.

On Avenue A

*Everyday Chatter

It's been a difficult week, but I am here. I've been keeping up with those of you on Facebook, and hope everyone got through the storm okay. The news could go on forever, but here are just a few links from the week with Sandy:

The Rockaways were devastated. [Gothamist]

Coney Island took a beating. [ATZ]

Central Park lost over 250 trees. [Gothamist]

The death toll on Staten Island keeps climbing. [SIL]

Images of flooding and wreckage keep coming in. [J&KM]

The payphone became necessary again. [HuffPo]

The uptown/downtown divide led one Melissa Kao to rechristen downtown SoPo--South of Power:



Gawker declared an Uptown/Downtown civil war. [Gawker]

People in the East Village resorted to Dumpster diving for food. [EVG]

While many New Yorkers were lining up for food, gas, transportation, hundreds were lining up for the latest Apple product. [Racked]

Battered Red Hook emerged from the flood waters. [Curbed]

The National Guard arrived on the LES. [BB]

Many heeded the call for volunteers and donations. [TLD]

A renegade Halloween Parade took over the Village. [Gothamist]

Bloomberg endorsed Obama for his stance on climate change. [MB]