Tuesday, June 14, 2011

*Everyday Chatter

After 18 years, the Viceroy restaurant in Chelsea has shuttered. New York once called it "a bit of a vanguard back in 1993...before an explosion of art galleries officially shifted the neighborhood from gay to gay and upscale."


Sonny's Grocery in Hell's Kitchen is shuttered by the City after 41 years. [DNA]

Classic: Paris Is Burning plays at the IFC Center on June 27. [IFC]

This weekend, "Theater for One" brings you into a black box in Times Square. [LM]

Intervideo is gone. Who knows what hell will replace it. [EVG]

Finding the Studebaker signage of the city--and more. [FNY]

Remembering old Yorkville. [LC]

A visit to the controversial bodega exhibit. [BB]

Tramway Diner

VANISHED

Manhattan keeps losing its diners. Sometime recently, maybe earlier this month, we lost the Tramway Diner.



Located in the shadow of the 59th Street Bridge on 2nd Avenue, the Tramway sheltered me not long ago when I was wandering that neighborhood searching for a cheap, comfortable spot for dinner. The Tramway, with its tram-illustrated awning, beckoned, and fulfilled my need for a burger deluxe.

Today, the windows are dark and a sign says "All equipment for sale."

New York described the spot as featuring "nearly floor-to-ceiling windows with eye-catching views of the airborne cable cars ascending to and descending from Roosevelt Island with hypnotic consistency. Grab a window seat at one of the high-backed leather-and-wood booths and you’ll quickly find yourself glorifying the standard menu’s little enhancements like fresh-squeezed orange juice, burgers that weigh eight ounces, and a handful of sandwiches of the triple decker sort."


plazmasas

The interior was nothing special, typical contemporary diner design--except that the ceiling was hung with these adorable little tram cars (they used to light up). Where are they now?


fdelangle's panoramio

Monday, June 13, 2011

*Everyday Chatter

"Find it here, buy it here, keep us here." The sudden appearance of this sign posted all over St. Mark's Bookshop makes me nervous:


If you sit at the chess tables in Tompkins Square Park and you don't play chess, you might get arrested. [NMNL]

You're also not allowed to wear a skirt while riding your bike. [RS]

Eataly is killing Little Italy. [Curbed]

"My father is destroyed," said Claudio the barber's daughter. "He walked into my house with the landlord's notice last month and said to me: 'I don't believe it. Sixty years and they give me 30 days to get out!'" [NYDN]

More on this summer's demolition of Mars Bar. [Crain's]

And say goodbye to Joe's Locksmith. [EVG]

At the egg rolls and egg creams fest. [BB]

Looking back at the "High Line District" before there was a High Line. [BBs]

Photos of Brooklyn back in the summer of '74. [BI]

Pics of the city in the summer of '98. [FP]

6/15: At Lolita bar--the authors of Grade A Fancy. [DTR]

9 Second Ave.

Thanks to Karen for calling our attention to the documentary "The Tao of 9 Second Avenue" by Michael I. Schiller. It starts with an image of Mars Bar before it was Mars Bar, but the film is really about the eviction and demolition of the buildings all around it--the rubble that Mars Bar will join later this summer.

In the coming demolition, 9 Second Avenue will also fall--it is the last piece of what was, for over a century, a thriving cultural center of the Lower East Side.


Mars Bar as a coffee, tea, & spices shop

The film tells the story of 7-9 Second Avenue, which was the other side of 291-293 Bowery, and included a chapel on E. 1st St.

Built on the site of Gotham Gardens--according to King's, "one of the most popular amusement resorts in the city in the '50s" (that's the 1850s)--the multi-building complex here began as Steuben House (some sources say its name was Volksgarten), later called the Germania Assembly Rooms. In the late 1800s, they housed saloons, bowling alleys, ballrooms, and places to having meetings and conventions (the Horse Shoers' and Cigarmakers' unions met here).


photo: rollingrck's flickr, 2003

It was a home to the German Anarchist movement in New York City and also served as a community center for the people of the Lower East Side. There was a thriving Italian theater here in the 1880s. But it was all soon "given over to vaudeville, dances, and used as an evil resort"--McGurk's Suicide Hall was part of the complex--and thus got religion.

In 1904 it became the Hadley Rescue Hall and the East Side Parish Church of All Nations moved in, thus reclaiming the buildings "from the service of evil," according to the Minutes of the New York East Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church:


click to read

And so it remained as a community center, chapel, and mission for many years.

Wrote the Times, "The complex was a splendid place, with a gym, an assembly hall, classrooms, dorms, a swimming pool and a rooftop playing field... On boiling summer days, boys played baseball on the roof, and neighbors climbed to the tops of their tenements to watch them. Once, a man became so excited by a game, he toppled over into the street."


from the film

In Schiller's film, we meet some of the women who played here as children, swimming in the pool and jitterbugging at the dances. Said one, "Every race, color, and religion came through these doors and bettered their lives--in all ways."


from the film

In 1974, the Green Guerrillas rescued the empty lot next door, full of dead bodies, garbage, and hypodermic needles, and turned it into what became the lush Liz Christy Garden. Vines and flowers from the garden grew up along the brick wall of the community buildings and countless birds nested there.


from the film: Liz Christy Garden is born

By 1975, the church moved out and a new community group (a "gang" to some) called CUANDO moved in. CUANDO stood for "Cultural Understanding And Neighborhood Development Organization." In 1979 they erected a solar wall above the garden to cope with heating issues, and their innovation was written up in Popular Science magazine.


Popular Science, 1979

One of the groups that CUANDO housed over the years was Plexus International. In 1985, Plexus staged a three-hour "cultural art adventure, billed as The Artificial Time of the Purgatorio Show ‘85 New York."

The show ran from the roof of CUANDO down to the swimming pool, long empty since its years of giving lessons to local children.


Plexus' Purgatorio

The Purgatorio show was a response to gentrification and its main thrust was the belief "that the current East Village art explosion had to be enjoyed not only by the wealthy uptown patrons, but also by the local community and by the artists of the Lower East Side." This (misdated?) French video shows it as a wild, cacophanous acid trip featuring girls in their bras and lots of papier mache. (Also check out their Art Slaves show.)

CUANDO was evicted (some say they abandoned ship) in about 1989.


Plexus' Purgatorio

In 1986, Kung Fu master and Taoist priest Sifu Jai (part Chinese, part black, part Jewish) moved in to the fourth-floor gym and opened a Taoist temple, the Temple of the Ancestral Mother. Kung Fu practice and Taoist rituals, burnt offerings to the hungry ghosts that wandered the Lower East Side, happened on the caged roof where boys once played baseball on hot summer nights. (See more inside the temple and the building in this video.)

After all the other tenants departed from the buildings, Sifu Jai remained inside the crumbling walls, now neglected by its new owners as they awaited demolition. Said one of Sifu Jai's students in the documentary, "While it may look like a big, old abandoned building that no one cares about, people in this neighborhood know how important it is."


image from the documentary, Kung Fu on the roof

The film tells the story of Sifu Jai's eviction in 2002. He sits on the sidewalk in front of 9 Second Ave., his belongings piled behind him, and explains, "I was laying in bed and they used a battering ram to smash through the door, my bedroom door, and threw me out on the street. Literally."

He talks about the new development that will come, how the neighborhood will soon be nothing but glass buildings. "New is better? No, I don't friggin' think so."


film still, Sifu Jai

In the end, the buildings are demolished. You know what came next, the massive glass box of a building, the Bowery Wine Bar, Daniel Boulud's DBGB, the Hamptons boutique Blue & Cream, and all the zombies that flocked to them, despite the Die Yuppie Scum protests.

What's coming next is the demolition of 9 Second Avenue, along with Mars Bars' building. The last piece of this long, colorful history is about to fall. What will take their place is another dead tower.

What kind of city will we have if we keep exchanging buildings, neighborhoods, and people filled with meaning for these hollow boxes?


from the film, demolition

See Also:
The Loss of Mars
Before Mars Bar
Bowery Tsunami

Friday, June 10, 2011

Another Newsstand

I don't know when it happened, but the old newsstand on University near 9th has been replaced with a blank Cemusa box.


today

The old stand was scruffy and stuffed full of stuff. It had add-on walls and signage.


my flickr, 2007

Again, we've lost an individualized piece of New York street architecture. It's happening piece by piece by piece.


my flickr, 2008

See also:
Union Square Newsstand
Jerry's Newsstand
& Lots more about Bloomberg's destruction of the old newsstands

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Pussycat Fallout

After the news broke here last week, thanks to a JVNY reader, that the Fat Black Pussycat sign was painted over, the mainstream media has followed up with lots of choice quotes from the owner of the building who did the painting.

He doesn't really say why it was painted now, after 50 years of leaving it alone, after telling the Times in 1999, "We have no intention of covering it up,'' but he does say a lot about his feelings on landmarking, the Village, and memories of the Pussycat. A selection...


After photo from JVNY tipster

From the Wall Street Journal:

“The Pussycat represented the worst of what the Village was,” said Bob Engelhardt, 84 years old, who has owned the building since the theater closed in 1963. “When you wanted to get drugs, get into fights and get with underage girls the Pussycat was where you went.”

“The Village was never about rules,” Engelhardt said. “Making someone ask for permission before painting a building is the exact opposite of what made the Village what it was.”


From the Times' City Room:

“Why don’t we just take the whole world and set it in concrete?” asked Panchito's owner. “That would save everything.”

“The Village was freedom, it wasn’t a concreted-over straitjacket,” he said.

“I’ve lived in the village since ’51,” he said. “The Fat Black Pussycat in my opinion was a cesspool. You could barely see anybody because of the smoke, and you couldn’t talk to anybody because half of the people you wanted to talk to wanted to sell you narcotics.”


From NBC-NY:

Engelhardt said painting over the sign was his own right and was not meant to stir neighborhood controversy. "It had nothing to do with the Pussycat, as such," he said. "It didn't go with the building. We are not landmarked and hopefully never will be."

"You went to the Pussycat if you wanted to smoke pot, buy drugs, get in a fight...or if you wanted to pick up underage girls," he said.


from the Daily Mail:

"There are buildings that are worth preserving. Ninety per cent of what's in the Village isn't."

"The Village was freedom. The Village was not rules and regulations set in concrete. It destroys everything the Village was always famous for."


Channel 7 News:

Said Englehardt, to preserve this part of the Village "would put a straitjacket on the entire area, allowing the PC police and taste Nazis to run everything."




In conclusion, after all the hubbub, one thing we can say: At least the sign was painted over by a true Village character.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

*Everyday Chatter

HuffPo followed up on the Fat Black Pussycat story--the owner of Panchito's says the Pussycat "was a cesspool" and "Ninety percent of what's in the Village isn't" worth preserving. [HP]

Astor Place demolition to begin July 1--here comes another monster glass tower. [EVG]

The High Line 2 provides "an airborne front yard for a post-industrial suburb," says Justin Davidson, where you can spy on wealthy condo inhabitants as they "spend hours cuddling their laptops." [NYM]

And on the new Meatpacking Whitney: "is the only way to experience contemporary art really in a huge hall that blends the aesthetic of the Soho loft with the dimensions of a hockey rink?" [NYM]

More anti-thrift: Young people believe that having tons of credit card debt empowers them. [RS]

$10,000 bottles of wine at new bikini brunches. [Grub]