Paris Cafe

VANISHED

The Paris Cafe at South Street Seaport is no more. After being in business since 1873 and surviving the numerous trials and tragedies of history, including a comeback from Hurricane Sandy, it could not survive the coronavirus shutdown of the city.



On their Facebook page, they announced:

"To all our wonderful patrons and friends I would like to extend a sincere thanks and a fond farewell from The Paris Cafe. Through no fault of anyone but the outbreak of this virus we are unable to forge a way forward that makes economic sense. We had no option but to close our doors. Hope springs eternal and perhaps with a change in the economic climate we may find our way back. With all our hearts we say thank you for all the fun, friendships and laughter as well as the few shillings spent. My thoughts are with our lovely staff at this time and we would like to thank all who subscribed to our Go Fund Me fund which is gratefully appreciated by staff in need. Our friendships will remain strong and when the grey skies clear we will meet and be renewed."


Lee Remick in front of the Paris Cafe, 1960

(thanks to a different Lee for the tip and the photo)

SP’s Nuts & Candy

Tribeca Citizen reports:

"SP’s Nuts & Candy, the store at 166 Church that you probably know as We Are Nuts About Nuts, is closing at the end of July."

Why is it closing? Is it because people don't buy enough nuts? Is it because tastes have changed? No, it's because "the landlord didn’t seem to want him to renew."



As the Times wrote in 2010:

"There are plenty of places to buy nuts in Manhattan, from Whole Foods to CVS to the occasional subway platform. But if you want them fresh, perhaps even still warm, from the roaster, SP’s Nuts and Candy may well be your only option.

Once upon a time, shops like this were a staple of city life, quick stops for a cheap, salty snack and a whiff of nuttiness. Today, SP’s owner, Michael Yeo, is keeping alive a New York tradition that has all but vanished over the past several decades, one he simply happened into."

Loft's Restoration

Many of you have noticed the vintage Loft's Candies sign downtown on Nassau Street--I wrote about it here back in September.



Two Boots Pizza is moving in to the space--and they say on Twitter they're restoring the sign. So it's not going anywhere.

Loft's Candies

Signs sometimes come down in the city and reveal antique signs underneath. At 88 Nassau Street recently, Loft's Candies was revealed:



Loft's was once a chain store started in New York. Will the future excavation of an ancient Starbucks be as elegant?

Blank Sign Covered

Back in May we took a look at an uncovered old neon sign: A. Blank at the corner of Broad and Stone downtown. It had been there a long time.



Now, reader Goggla sends in a photo of the sign's replacement. No neon. Just plastic.

An urban artifact uncovered and then re-covered, to be discovered again one day.

A. Blank Sign

Downtown, at Broad and Stone, Giuliano's pizza place has lost the skin of its signage.


Google Maps

Reader Greg Wyles, sends in a photo of the sign hidden beneath the sign, recently revealed. He says "the Pizza Place that had been there was knocked out by Hurricane Sandy and there has been construction going on and off" ever since.



Last year, spotting the shape of Giuliano's sign, Thomas Rinaldi at New York Neon suspected it was an antique. He did a little digging into the history of the sign and found photos of Blank with its neon intact.

As for A. Blank -- no history remains. Only this. Since 1899.


Anthony Cortese, flickr

Seaport Stuff

It's not often that I go to the South Street Seaport. It's full of tourists and has become the sort of place--like many in New York--that caters exclusively to the tepid tastes and desires of tourists, with suburban shopping mall stores and an outdoor food court. It's far from Joseph Mitchell's old Seaport, that's for sure. But I went recently and found a few things worth the bother.



One Grand is a temporary pop-up bookshop that just opened in a store called Whisper Editions at 6 Fulton Street. They sell antler sculptures and $135 makeup bags. Bypass those to access the bookshop upstairs.

Opened by Aaron Hicklin, editor-in-chief of Out magazine, One Grand is organized around the question "If you were on a desert island for the rest of your life, what 10 books would you take?"

The people who answered include Tilda Swinton, Justin Vivian Bond, Edmund White, Michael Cunningham, and Penny Arcade.



This is "curated" bookselling for sure, but if you can get over that, you might enjoy the way each shelf appears as its own desert island of the person's favorites. Most made interesting choices.



Fashion designer Tom Ford picked a bunch of Ayn Rand titles, which seems unsurprising.




The South Street Seaport Museum, in its also temporary, post-Sandy location, has a free exhibit. It features vintage photographs of the Fulton Fish Market in operation, along with artifacts from the old Seaport.

You will also find a few remnants of Carmine's Italian restaurant, which was shuttered after 107 years by a massive rent hike in 2010. For some reason, this is not mentioned on the information card.




Part of the Seaport Museum, Bowne Print Shop and Stationers is also well worth checking out. Established in 1775, they're still printing and the print shop itself has some lovely antique letter presses to admire.



They also have a bunch of printed matter for sale, like cards of quotes by E.B. White and Frank O'Hara, including my favorite:

“I can’t even enjoy a blade of grass unless I know there’s a subway handy, or a record store or some other sign that people do not totally regret life.”

(Really, if you can't say that, what are you doing in the city anyway?)



Next door, the stationery store sells some unusual and appealing postcards of old New York. They also, oddly, sell tassels. Many tassels. The proprietor explained that a business was forced to downsize in the Garment District and donated all their tassels to the museum. So now you know where to buy tassels, in bulk or otherwise.



Oddly, there aren't many tourists in these few places. They're too busy stuffing their faces at the food court or lining up to get their names printed on personalized cans of Coca-Cola. (I'm not kidding.) It's dreadful and it makes me think of how, lately, the world's global cities are all complaining that tourists are ruining things. Because they have no interest in the local culture or history. They only want to shop for the same junk they can find at home.

And that makes me think about a Paul Bowles quote, which might look good on a printed card from Bowne's:

An “important difference between tourist and traveler is that the former accepts his own civilization without question; not so the traveler, who compares it with the others, and rejects those elements he finds not to his liking.”

Roxy Luncheonette

VANISHED

In 2012, I checked in with the Roxy Luncheonette, a little swivel stool and counter place down on John Street that had survived since 1944.

Now, in its 70th year, the Roxy has shuttered.


Roxy egg cream, 2009

Reader Frank writes in with the sad news and recent photos:

"At some point in the last 18 months or so, the owner sold it to new operators. They modified the name, calling it Roxy's East West Diner. It was basically the same--still a diner--but not quite as good."

"Worse," Frank adds, "the ongoing, hellish construction on John Street kept the Roxy (and its neighbors) hidden under a sidewalk bridge. Tragically and ironically, workers carted off the sidewalk bridge last week--just in time for the Roxy to close."


Roxy today

In 2012, a reporter asked the Roxy's long-time owner how long he thought he'd be able to stay open with all the construction outside. "Couple more months," said the owner. "Maybe a few more months."

The little Roxy lasted two more years, and yet succumbed--another victim of hyper-gentrification. The construction that killed it is due to: A new Pace University dorm with a TD Bank and an Urban Outfitters, a new hotel, and the Fulton Center, "with an increased focus on retail."

An auction was held at the luncheonette yesterday.



Previously:
An egg cream at the Roxy
Roxy suffers under John Street construction

Suspenders

Founded by a group of firefighters, Suspenders Bar & Restaurant opened on lower Broadway in the Financial District in 1988. Tonight is their last night.


photo: Midtown Lunch

Reader Kevin Corrigan wrote in with the news: "Before I even sat down, I heard one of the bartenders saying, 'Yeah, tomorrow might be the last day.' I ordered a Guinness and overheard a few other things like, 'Are you going to move to another location?' I heard a waitress say, 'It's just too emotional for me right now.'"

The Tribeca Trib reported the story earlier this month, writing that the pub's landlord, Capital Investments, refused to negotiate the lease or give an extension. June 1 was the closing date given, but I called the bar to confirm and tonight is the end for Suspenders. They'll stay open until midnight, as long as they get a crowd.


photo: Kevin Corrigan

After 9/11, Suspenders became a place for first responders to take a break, find community, and forget the pit for a little while. "We were firemen before we were restaurant owners," co-owner Bill Ahearn told the Tribeca Trib, explaining how the place stayed open through the post-9/11 days. The pub's website describes it as "a de facto emotional safe haven...forever rooting itself in New York City history."

So, in the same week that the 9/11 museum opens, with its gift shop filled with commemorative cheese plates of death, a place run by firefighters that served the neighborhood and the people who did the recovery work at Ground Zero just can't get a break in the new New York.


photo: Kevin Corrigan

The owners of Suspenders hope to find a new location in the neighborhood. Follow their Facebook page for updates.

Save Yourselves

A reader writes in with these photos from outside City Hall. A "rich woman" was carrying an anti-Bill de Blasio sign and arguing with passersby.

Get ready for "crime, muggings, rapes, murder," she insists. "Save yourselves, protect your children."



According to the reader, "She was saying that she worked hard for her money, and that de Blasio is now going to take away her wealth so it can be distributed to those who don't work or are lazy. Then the argument was interrupted when a couple of tourists asked where the World Trade Center is. Amazingly, both parties lowered their voices and were helpful to point it out to them."

Spirit of '76

I received the following note from reader Jim Duffy, along with photos from his friend Amy L. Anderson:



In Lower Manhattan, at the corner of Broad Street and South Street, is a wall about six feet high that faces out to New York Harbor. It's part of the office complex of 125 Broad Street. The wall is being repaired, and as the white facing material is being removed, we can now see a silvery, fiberglass-like building material that is covered with graffiti -- actually "scratchitti" -- from 1976.

On July 4, 1976, bicentennial day, as thousands of people crowded to watch the tall ships in the harbor, some of them, most likely teenagers, were carving hearts, names, zodiac signs, phone numbers, and messages.



"Grace + David," "Sophia 'N Harvey," "Happy Birthday America," "July 4, 1976," "I Love My Mother," "Diane '76," "Gerald Ford, Op Sail and Queen Liz Were Here."

It had all been covered up for 37 years, and once again, it is seeing the light of day, for a limited time.

Carmine's 2 Years Later

Two years ago, Carmine's at the Seaport was forced to close after 107 years in business when the landlord raised the rent to $13,000 a month.

Today it's still gutted and empty. In this depressing photo sent in from reader Frank, all that remains of Carmine's is the pressed-tin ceiling.



The Five Guys burger chain people were supposed to bring an upscale steakhouse here, but that was announced a year ago and the "For Lease" signs are still on Carmine's facade.

As Frank says, "Wouldn't it have been better to keep Carmine's in business and get some kind of rent, instead of nothing for the past two years?"


my flickr, 2008

Roxy Luncheonette

VANISHING?

A few years ago I wandered into the Roxy Luncheonette down on John Street, between Broadway and Nassau, where I never wander. It's a lovely little gem that has survived since 1944. At the time I wrote, "It's got everything a luncheonette should have: chrome swivel stools, a quilted stainless steel backsplash, and good egg creams."

Now a reader writes in to say the Roxy is about to vanish.



"The construction down here is awful," says reader Frank, who lives in the neighborhood. Six different construction projects are happening all at once on John Street--including a new dorm and hotel. The local Downtown News calls it the "Hammers of Hell."

"It's been going on forever and the Roxy just won't make it," Frank writes. "I never see anyone in there. Who would want to go? It's so loud with all the jackhammering, and the streets are torn up something awful. The owner says he'll need to close in a few months in this video (at the 50-second mark)."



"How long do you think you can stay in business with this going on," the reporter asks the Roxy's owner, referring to the construction nightmare.

"Couple more months," says the owner, who has been at the Roxy for 36 of its 68 years. "Maybe a few more months."

"I hope you're wrong," the reporter replies.

The owner shakes his head, "No, I'm not."


Roxy blocked by a backhoe

The People's Library

VANISHED (and then, partly, not)

"The books have been seized, librarians have been gassed and jailed." If this message wasn't coming over the Occupy Wall Street Library's Facebook page, you might think you'd been hurled back in time, to 1933 Berlin when Goebbels "consigned to the flames" thousands of books.

But this was yesterday in New York City and Bloomberg was the leader giving orders.


all photos November 2011

Just a few days ago, I made a visit to Occupy Wall Street and was impressed with the growth of the People's Library, which I'd seen evolve from a few cardboard boxes of books perched on a ledge to a lighted Quonset hut (donated by Patti Smith) loaded with well-organized titles in every genre. So it was with great sadness and outrage that I heard the news yesterday morning about the NYPD raid on Zuccotti Park and their destruction of the People's Library.

After the initial shock, we learned that the NYPD tossed more than 5,000 books into a Dumpster and demolished the library tent. One occupier and dedicated bibliophile ran into the library during the raid and strapped the homemade OWS Poetry Anthology to his body to save it from destruction.

Librarians gassed and jailed. Heroes strapping books of poetry to their bodies. Here's something: Nobody's doing that for a Kindle.



But Kindles are not books, because books are more than collections of words. Those creaky paper bodies, rejected today by so many future fetishists, have meaning. They take up space. And that space-taking matters, because it functions both to agitate and to bring people together.

Seeing books has an impact. Whether it's in a library or through the windows of a bookshop, just seeing large numbers of books together in one place has the power to stir emotions. And the People's Library was this kind of powerful place--not virtual, but real. E-readers like the Kindle do not have this power. "Vooks" don't gather. They don't mass. They don't burn and therefore do not, by the spectacle of their burning, shock us into action.

In their physicality, and thus vulnerability (like human bodies), books have the power to make us righteously outraged when they are threatened with destruction. When all books are electronic, we won't witness their destruction, a silent deletion, and so we won't feel it as much when they vanish.

And that's why the wanton Dumpstering of the People's Library could be a good thing for books.



The makers of Kindles and iPads and Nooks have been trying to make books uncool for years now--and they are succeeding. Only dinosaurs read real books, says Amazon and Apple. Only sullen necrophiliacs cling to those "dusty tomes," say even our Pulitzer Prize-winning authors.

But what if bibliophiles became, again, radical revolutionaries in the collective imagination? What if the borrowing, lending, buying, selling, and reading of real books became a renegade act?



The People's Library was started as a small stack of random books by Brooklyn librarian Betsy Fagin, then grew exponentially as book donations poured in. It hosted authors like Jonathan Lethem and Jennifer Egan. It hosted readings and took on the resistant mantra of Bartleby the Scrivener. Most of all, it served as an urban base for guerrilla librarianship.

I learned about guerrilla librarianship from a young student of Library Science in Zuccotti Park. He and his cohorts were so excited to talk about books. They wanted to spend their days in the presence of books, in the cold and damp weather, to catalog and organize these supposedly irrelevant objects, to provide pleasure and inspire thought in others. All of this human activity is unnecessary with e-readers. There's nothing to organize because there's nothing to put your hands on.



By yesterday evening, the People's Library blog reported: "The Mayor’s Office claims our books are safe," and included a photo from officials as proof. Most of the books might be returned to the librarians today--this morning, four books occupy the park--but the deed was still done. (Click for update on the destruction and loss--the poetry-book hero tells Gothamist, "we're pretty sure 90% of the books are destroyed.")

Librarians were gassed and jailed.

Books were seized.

It's time to start burning the Kindles and get back to the real thing.


Read Burn the Kindle at The Grumbler.

More Newsstand Deaths

We hear the old newsstand on Water and Fulton has been Cemusaed. Grieve has a shot of how it was before, a battered green box, tough and reliable-looking, like an old lunchbox. And now it's another blank spot in the world.



In the Village, here's the one that replaced the lovely, lively brown stand at West 4th. Another nothingness.



What remains? Lately, the Village's newsstands have been slaughtered. But here's one lone survivor at 6th and Waverly. It's a beauty with its pitched roof and caged storm lights, its jaunty awning like the short bill of an umpire's cap, its hunter green coat of paint. How long will it last?



See Also:
Newsstand Slaughter
Hojo's Lost Newsstand
Another Newsstand
Union Square Newsstand
Jerry's Newsstand
Lots more about Bloomberg's destruction of the old newsstands
&
All my newsstand photos

Penguin Pool Murder

Thanks to reader Fabulous for turning us on to the 1932 film The Penguin Pool Murder, which features several rare interior shots of the old New York City Aquarium, which you can read about here.



The Aquarium was closed by Robert Moses in 1941, when he planned to build a bridge at Battery Park, so these scenes are from its final decade, after being a showplace since 1896.



Moses called the Aquarium an "ugly wart." In The Penguin Pool Murder, it's clearly no such thing.



The film footage not only shows the Aquarium as a backdrop to the drama (murder! mystery!), it lingers over its details, highlighting many of the fish and other occupants, with close-ups of their tanks, including action shots of an octopus grabbing its prey, and feeding time at the (itty-bitty) seal tank.



It appears that every inch of the Aquarium is on this film--the director's office, behind the tanks, even inside the men's restroom where you can enjoy the sight of 1932 New York's paper-towel and soap dispensers.

There are also many taxidermied sea creatures hanging on the walls.


not Hildegarde

The film itself is rather sluggish, though the trailer calls it "one long, hearty laugh from beginning to end." It is known for launching the role of Hildegarde Withers, who makes the "police look like a bunch of pansies." She's a schoolteacher turned sleuth, "A lean, angular spinster lady, her unusual hats and the black cotton umbrella she carries are her trademark... Hildegarde collects tropical fish, abhors alcohol and tobacco, and appears to have an irritable disposition."

Watch the movie here on youtube or check out the trailer at TCM.