2014 Vanishings

At the end of each year, I offer a list of businesses that vanished during the year. Last year, I posted a Master List of vanishings through the Bloomberg years. We hoped that this year would be different, that the vanishings would slow down. They have not. Small businesses remain under assault in New York City and nothing is being done to save them.

If you're sick of the funerals, please join my Save New York Facebook page and consider these proposals for stopping the vanishing. We still have a lot to save before it's gone.

RIP:


2008

Gray's Papaya
On 8th Street, this was the second-to-last Gray's Papaya in the city. It did brisk business and was beloved. Death by rent hike. It will be replaced by a Liquiteria smoothie shop.

Milady's
81 years old, beloved by many, dead via rent hike.

Barnes & Noble flagship
Yes, part of a chain that helped destroy our local bookstores. Still, the place was old--since 1932--and now it will be a Banana Republic.

Rainbows & Triangles
In Chelsea since 1994. Could not afford the rent.

Camouflage
In Chelsea for 38 years, death by rent hike.

Famous Oyster Bar
In Midtown since 1959. The new landlord refused to renew their lease.



Rizzoli Bookstore on 57th
Beautiful building demolished against public outcry, to be developed into luxury tower. Rizzoli found a new space, not nearly as grand.

Manatus
Serving the Village, and especially the queer community, since the 1980s. Death by massive rent hike.

Olympic Diner and Jade Fountain Liquors
35 years old, death by development of Essex Crossing.

Antiques Garage
Since 1993, death by luxury redevelopment.

Archangel Antiques
After 21 years in the East Village, the rent was too high. They retired.

Lucky Cheng's
Could not survive their move to Midtown.

Pearl Paint
Building sold.



Bereket
Since 1995. Death by luxury development.

Bowlmor
76 years old.  Death by luxury development.

Kim's
This was the last of Kim's local empire. Death by rent hike.

El Paso Restaurant
It was old. The cause of death is unknown.

Rodeo Bar
30 years old, could not afford the rent.

Chat N Chew
Since 1994, cause of death unknown.

Hair Box Barber Shop
A barber shop for 100 years, replaced by a frozen yogurt shop.

Subway Inn
Death by luxury development. Since 1937, evicted, forced to move despite petition and public outcry -- reopening elsewhere, but it won't ever be the same.



Marquet Cafe
22 years old, cause of death unknown.

3-Star Coffee Shop
It was old. The Health Department may have violated it out of existence.

John's Bakery
In Ditmas Park over 50 years, possible rent hike.

Video Gallery
In Park Slope many years.

Yaffa Cafe
After 32 years in the East Village, shuttered by the DOH and vanished.

Simone
After 15 years, followed Yaffa out of business.

El Quijote
Since 1930. Taken over by the new owner of the new luxury Chelsea Hotel, given a high-end, big-name chef. Still standing, but don't expect it to ever be the same again.

Shakespeare & Co. Bookstore
Death by massive rent hike. Is now a Foot Locker.



Smith's Bar & Restaurant
60 years old, cause of death unknown, possible resurrection coming.

Two Boots Bleecker St.
22 years old, lease renewal denied by new landlord.

Honest Boy Fruit Stand
Since 1980, parcel sold by MTA for luxury development.

Dance Manhattan
22 years old, landlord refused to renew their lease.

Grande Monuments
Since the 1940s, turning into a tattoo parlor.

Bruno Bakery
Since 1973, death by rent.

Galapagos Art Space
Can't afford the rent, moving to Detroit.

DeRobertis Pasticceria
110 years old, owners sold the building--cited lack of business, competition from Starbucks, and overwhelming costs from the city.



Bonnie Slotnick Cookbooks
15 years old, landlord denied to renew lease--Bonnie's working on a new lease elsewhere.

Sam Flax flagship
After 95 years, can't afford the rent.

Posman Books, Grand Central
15 years old, evicted by the MTA to make way for luxury development.

Complete Traveller Book Shop
After 36 years in business, death due to big rent hike.

Cafe Edison
After 34 years of serving Broadway, Hotel Edison owner Gerald Barad refused a new lease to the beloved business. An enormous outpouring of support, from community members and politicians, could not save the place. They hope to reopen elsewhere, but the Polish Tearoom--that delirious pink cathedral--is gone forever.


I am sure I am missing many, many lost businesses. Please add them in the comments. Also, if you see an error, please offer corrections in the comments.




Previous Years' Year-End Reports:
2007
2008
2009: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4
2010
2011: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4
2012
2013

Gray's Papaya to Liquiteria

When the Gray's Papaya on 6th Avenue and 8th Street shuttered in January, thanks to a massive rent hike from the landlord, New Yorkers were devastated, heartbroken, and more devastated.


2008

We soon learned that the spot would be taken over by the growing Liquiteria chain. The place has been covered in plywood since, but I just took a peek inside.



It looks...like a Liquiteria. No more vats of papaya and pineapple juice. No more hot dogs glistening on the grill.

Instead of guys in red bowling shirts slapping coleslaw on your dog, you'll find a team of "cleanse coaches and ambassadors" striving to "personalize your Liquiteria experience" at this "health and wellness oasis."

Instead of two hot dogs and a papaya drink for less than five bucks, you'll get one papaya smoothie with Liver Kidney Lymph Detox mixed in for more than five bucks.



We can say that "things change," that New Yorkers today are more interested in juice cleanses than hot dogs, that Liquiteria and Gray's Papaya are (were) both local chains so what's the difference. Each point is debatable, but all of it ignores the simple fact that Gray's shuttered not due to any lack of love for hot dogs, but to another insane rent hike.

We have one Gray's Papaya left. Like all our small businesses, it is completely unprotected from a similar fate.

It's time to stop the insanity--let's Save New York.

Posman Books

VANISHING

As you've likely heard by now, the Posman's bookstore in Grand Central Terminal has been denied a lease renewal by their landlord, the MTA. With no negotiations or help, December 31 remains their final day.

I sent our petition, with its nearly 2,500 signatures, to the MTA representative, but have not heard back. So go to Posman's before the new year and say your goodbyes to yet another small shop in the city.

On a recent evening, business was booming. You can barely get inside the door. But that doesn't matter. Our small shops can be successful, and still they get the boot in today's New York. 



A customer approached the register with her books and said to the cashier, "I'm so glad you're still in business. I never buy from Amazon."

The cashier broke the news, "Actually, we're going out of business," and she explained the situation, how the MTA is denying them a new lease to make room for a new luxury skyscraper.

The customer began to wail, "No, no, no, no!" I've witnessed this scene so many times. The shock, the denial, the clutching at the heart. Living in this city today, if you love it, is one big funeral.

I asked employee, long-time bookstore guy, and poet Ron Kolm how customers have reacted to the closure of Posman's. He told me:

"The response has been amazing. The general feeling in the store has surprised me. I always liked our customers, and we definitely have a number of regulars, but I figured that most of the people who shopped there were just passing through; we get tons of tourists. But in the past weeks it's become clear that Posman Books is part of a community.

Almost every other customer tells us how much we mean to them, how they stop in before getting their train home from work, or to keep up with what's being published, or just to relax. They are so serious in their commiserating, if that's the right word. They're solicitous about our futures, and wonder what they can do to reverse something they see as being awful.

When I'm at the register, it's almost one long, constant conversation, and I end up empathizing with them. Which has sort of stunned me. I worked the register for five or six hours on 'Black Friday,' which is traditionally a dead day for us, everyone leaving the city for Thanksgiving. But not this one; it was one of our busiest days in quite awhile, and the conversations were so intense, and so deeply felt, that I went home with a splitting headache. I truly thought that this is what a shrink must feel like after a day of listening to other people's problems -- I had to jolt myself back into focus and remember that it was me who was going to lose a work situation I love, and a staff I admire and enjoy working with."



Meanwhile, the Rite-Aid next door--which was empty, by the way--is allowed to live on.

Cafe Edison Closes

VANISHED

Last night, around 7:00 pm, Cafe Edison shuttered.


Today: Photo by John Strano

Jordan Strohl, son and grandson of the owners, posted to the Save Cafe Edison Facebook group:

"The Cafe Edison has closed its doors. Thank you for our historic 34 years on Broadway! We are so thankful for our loyal customers and thank you for these past 6 weeks. It has been an emotional time period for us all but our customers carried us through this process! Thank you for being part of our family and thank you for all of your roles in the greatest show on Broadway!

Thank you!!! Thank you!!! Thank You!!! Stay tuned to the next act!!!

Love
THE STROHL'S!!!"



A reminiscence from the final days:

The sound of Café Edison when it’s packed with people is different from the sound of other crowded restaurants. Its cafeterial roar feels soft around the edges, a warm and steady hum punctuated by the clatter of silverware and plates, by the waitstaff calling out “One matzo ball! One chicken noodle!”

At other restaurants, especially new ones, the noise is sharp and shrill.

Maybe it’s Café Edison’s high ceilings, the way the walls curve inward at the top to enfold us. Maybe it’s the fur coats of dust draped along the chandeliers and plaster filigree that absorb the sound. Maybe it has something to do with the cherubs, dancing up there on feathered tails, alongside naked ladies who reach for platters of—what? Latkes in applesauce? Kasha varnishkes?

Or else it’s the clientele. The people in here are not like the people out there.

They’re hardly a quiet bunch, but no one is shrieking. No one is laughing that irritating laugh that says, “Look at me! I’m having an awesome time!” No one is falling all over themselves trying to have an “awesome time.” They’re too busy bending over bowlfuls of soup.



It’s a pleasure to watch the line of people at the lunch counter, each one balanced atop a swivel stool to lean into soup. A businessman flips his necktie over his shoulder to keep it from getting wet. A doorman removes his overcoat and drapes it across his lap, but keeps his cap on, tipped safely back. A woman encircles her bowl with both arms, holding a book in one hand, spoon in the other. Her eyeglasses steam.

I have to say, there’s something that never fails to move me about the arrangement of napkin dispenser, ketchup bottle, sugar shaker, salt and pepper. It’s my favorite still life, this luncheonette tableau. I don’t know why. Same goes for a stack of doughnuts under a plastic dome, atop a chrome cake stand, glistening in honey dip. (I think of that William Carlos Williams poem—“So much depends upon…”)

The crowd ebbs and flows. When the swivel stools empty again, the cafeteria’s owner makes his rounds. Walking the Formica length, he runs his hand along the countertop. He’s not wiping away crumbs; he’s caressing it—for the ten-thousandth time, for the last time—lovingly, with his whole palm, the way you’d stroke the neck of a good horse whose time has come to an end.

The moment only lasts a moment, and then the seats fill again for “One matzo ball! One chicken noodle!” The golden bowls keep coming. With spoons in hand, the diners lean into the steam, each one trying to hold the feeling. How lucky we were to have this place, this jewel box of a grand dining room, built for royalty and bestowed to the average joe. For a long time, it was ours. Now, before they take it away from us forever, one more bowl of soup.




Previously:
News breaks about Cafe Edison's forced closure
Over 600 supporters come to our first of many Lunch Mobs
Local politicians and Mayor Bill de Blasio join the fight to Save Cafe Edison
Big rally and press conference at Cafe Edison
The last day announcement


Photos from the last day:


Press gathers around Mrs. Edelstein, photo by James Steeber


"The Blintz Grinch" at the register, photo by Elizabeth Shelton


Taking down the menu specials sign at night's end, photo by Davy Mack


Strohls, photo by Davy Mack

Complete Traveller Bookstore

VANISHING

New York is losing yet another bookshop, thanks to out-of-control rent.



After 36 years in business on the corner of 35th and Madison, the Complete Traveller book shop, and Antiquarian Books Too, is closing its doors December 31. The rent is too damn high--and getting higher.



I talked with manager Mike Durell, who said, "The lease is up and the landlord wants to jack up the rent," which is already "exorbitant." 

So the shop will be no more--except online, where you can find them at CT Rare Books.



Browsing through the Complete Traveller is a voyage in itself, as you move from city to city, and country to country along the shelves. One wall is dedicated to Baedeker guides, all bound in red. They also have Furniture, Fashion, Fiction, and a whole section on "Gone With the Wind."

Years ago, I found a beautiful old guide to New York City's zoos and aquariums. This time, in a "NYC Ephemera" binder, I found a treasure trove of documents from the Cream-O Specialty Sales Co. of Brooklyn, specializing in "quality peanut butter sandwiches and assorted cookies for the nation."

If you love old books about the city, check it out before they're gone. They've got some WPA guides, and a great looking "Street Guide to Brooklyn," from maybe the 30s or 40s. They also have a first edition of Fran Lebowitz's "Metropolitan Life."



Book browsing is such a physical experience. The sights and smells, the feel of the paper in your hands, all of it is important, enlivening, real. And we're losing it. More and more every day.

Something must be done.



Mr. Durell asks me to put out the word to anyone who's hiring. He needs a new job. He knows books, but he says he can do pretty much anything--he's also a freelance writer, an actor, and a licensed New York City tour guide. Check out his website here.

And, finally, the book shop's farewell note:

Dear Booklovers,

We will be closing our store at the end of the year! We have been at the corner of Madison Avenue and 35th Street for over 30 amazing years and we would like to thank you for your patronage! Throughout the years we made friends with so many customers from NYC and all around the world.

We hope you can visit us before we go, either online or in our store: It is not too late for Christmas shopping and delivery before Christmas is still guaranteed!

We are happy to report that our online store will remain open.

Happy Holidays!

Sincerely,
Arnold Greenberg and Staff

Meet the Kentile K

When the Kentile Floors sign came down from the skyline of Brooklyn earlier this year, the beloved letters were stashed away, in an undisclosed location in Gowanus, where they await their new life.

Tonight at 5pm, you can get up close and cozy with the letter "K" -- and even have your photo taken with it -- at the Gowanus Alliance's "Kristmas" party.

A rep from Gowanus Alliance tells me:

"The letters are kept in a safe warehouse, waiting for donation paperwork to be completed and for final evaluation before repair work begins. Tonight, we only have the letter K to display--and to let everyone know that the Kentile sign is not forgotten nor forsaken. We hope to start the restoration process very soon, and look forward to community input on the sign's final location. It is not likely that the sign will end up on a roof of a building, due to current building codes and regulations. It is going to be installed in a public area, perhaps a promenade or a park. That decision will be brought before a community discussion forum. A website is in the works."

Joey Arias: Christmas with the Crawfords

The following is a guest post by Romy Ashby, who runs the excellent blog "Walkers in the City."

The Henry Street Settlement - Abrons Art Center has the best Christmas show in town right now with Joey Arias: Christmas with the Crawfords, dazzling audiences with a fabulous cast in the gorgeous old theater on Grand Street. When Joey, who has spent a lot of time on that stage, was asked not long ago to do something at Abrons this December, he suggested doing the show, which was recently summed up this way by The New York Times: “Joey Arias joins up with San Francisco's Artfull Circle Theatre to make NYC's Yuletide ever so gay in this all-singing, all-dancing, holiday extravaganza. Based on the infamous Christmas Eve radio broadcast from the Crawford family's Brentwood mansion, Christmas With the Crawfords features Joan, the children, and a stellar line up of Hollywood icons in a hilarious parody of -- and homage to -- the ‘Golden Age’ of Hollywood.”



Following is my short chat with the wonderful Joey Arias—a most down-to-earth and friendly star—done over the telephone:

In the Christmas show you play Joan Crawford. Were you a Joan Crawford fan yourself?

No not at all! I love her work, but I never read the books or followed her. So when I got the part I watched Mildred Pierce four times to study her movements, her face, her hands. I think Joan Crawford was groomed beautifully by Hollywood; the happy Hollywood story of going from nothing to something. And she went with it. She never stopped working until she died. Her daughter would say, ‘Stop! You’re a star and these movies you’re taking now are schlock!” But Joan would say, “It’s a role and I’m doing it. I don’t want people to forget me.”

The last time I did this role was in 2002 and I joined the Cirque du Soleil right after that. And it’s exciting to play this character. For the new generation, who doesn’t have a clue about old movies or most of these characters, it’s a light into the darkness to turn them on to what that world was like, to show that these were real people in addition to all the glamour and falsehood, the screen smoke and mirrors that were put on people’s faces who were groomed for the public. When Joan Crawford’s daughter wrote that book, Mommy Dearest, all the smoke and mirrors were shattered.

When you first came to live here in 1976, New York was a different city. What about it did you find most appealing?

I found the corruption, the drug dealers, the hookers, the city falling apart and the glamour—hand in hand—so thrilling! You were really able to fulfill your dream then, and whatever you wanted was really kind of at hand—if you worked hard enough.

And what did you want?

I wanted to meet Andy Warhol and change my life! I remember closing my eyes and saying, “City, whatever you want me to do, please guide me.” And of course I worked at it too. I wound up getting a job at Fiorucci, which had just opened, and I was right in the middle of all the hubbub. And my dream came true! Andy Warhol came in and he wanted to meet me! And from then on, everything just fell into place.

How easy was it to do shows without much money when you first came?

Oh, it was the old saying with Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney: “Let’s go to the garage and put a show on!”

And were there plenty of free "garages" available?

Oh, yeah! Downtown, the Lower East Side, there was the Mudd Club and of course we had Club 57 on St. Mark's Place, which Ann Magnuson started with Susan Hannaford. It started as the Monster Movie Club once a week and everyone had such a good time we just continued with theme parties and shows, and it was our neighborhood hangout. That was where Keith Haring, and Kenny Scharf and Jean-Michel Basquiat got their starts, and Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman and Lypsinka, everybody started there.

Having kept the same apartment on 10th Street and University since 1976, is your house a time capsule of an older New York?

Oh it is! It’s very old New York! When Klaus Nomi passed away I got a lot of his furniture, and there are little things here and there, pieces of art by Keith Haring and Jean-Michel and Andy Warhol and Kenny Scharf, oh, my God, it really is a History House!

To ask the opposite question of what you found most appealing, what do you feel most sorry about in New York as it is now?

I’m sorry that there is greed and corporations, that that Giuliani flipped it over to make it clean and accessible to that generation of people who are afraid to walk in the mud. The corruption is still around, but corruption wears ties now.

Despite the sad changes, do you have a favorite thing to do in New York?

I love to walk the streets and just bump into people. I love to meet people in the street—people that I know and strangers—and have conversations standing on the street corner. I love that. I’ll go out to the store to pick something up and then find myself just going for a walk. And the next thing I know, I’ll be having a conversation with an old friend or a new friend on the sidewalk. And now that I’ve become known, strangers stop me and say, “I love you! You’re so exciting! I came to see you, and that’s why I’m in New York!” And I’ll think, Oh, they’re just like me, the way I was with Andy Warhol! Now I find myself in that position; as the keeper of the flame.

Years ago, when you were publishing little interviews with interesting characters in Paper Magazine, I laughed at one of your questions to Debbie Harry (and her answer) which I will ask you now: What’s the first thing you do when you get up in the morning?

Make coffee.

What did Debbie say?

She said “Pee.”




Christmas with the Crawfords runs through December 27th, and stars Joey Arias as Joan Crawford, Chris March as Christina and a stellar cast of co-stars featuring Sherry Vine and Chris Mirto.