XXX on 14th and 3rd

Back in 2011, I wrote up an extensive post about the Sahara Hotel that once stood on the northeast corner of 14th Street and 3rd Avenue, along with the prostitutes that used to roam the neighborhood.

In the post, I refer to the XXX peep joint on the first floor of the Sahara (now a Duane Reade in an NYU dorm). Photos of that peep joint are rare finds, but I just came upon two of them in the magnificent online archive of photographer Gregoire Alessandrini who maintains the blog New York City 1990s, a must-see.


photo: Gregoire Alessandrini

Sometimes, when I find images of a lost place that is hard to find in photos, I like to post them, to sort of reconstruct the place as much as possible. The one photo I found prior to these was black and white, but here we see the lavender hue of the ALL MALE ADULT VIDEO shop.

In the next shot, we see the western side of the peep joint, along 3rd Avenue.

For more about this corner in the 1990s, read my post on the Sahara Hotel. For more amazing images of New York at that time, see Gregoire's New York City 1990s.


photo: Gregoire Alessandrini

And one more, sent in after this post was posted, from Gregoire. A wider view, it shows the whole corner with its--not one, but two XXX video joints:


photo: Gregoire Alessandrini

Snowy City

If you're not quite ready to let go of winter in New York, check out Michael Magill's snowy photos of the city in the 1980s and 90s.



In the gusts and the drifts, you can't make out many businesses, but a few stand out, like the neon and awning of the old Fedora in 1993, before Gabe Stulman upscaled it.

Now another Stulman restaurant (Joseph Leonard), in 1991 this snowy corner of Waverly was Pierre's Les Douceurs de Paris.



In a blizzard, the pre-upscaled Minetta Tavern shines with its neon sign in 1998, before McNally got his hands on it, back when you used to be able to just walk in for a drink, enjoy the neighbors, the comfort, the peace and quiet.

There's nothing quite like sitting in a quiet bar or cafe on a snowy afternoon in New York City. Until next year...

Children's Zoo

The following is a guest post, written by JVNY reader Donica O'Bradovich, a writer and "lifelong New Yorker who can't quite get the city out of her despite a desperate desire to move to California."

Back in December, the Daily News reported on yet another victim of Hurricane Sandy, a demise that wouldn’t mean anything to anyone except the baby boomers who grew up in the New York City in the 60s and 70s. Jonah’s Whale, AKA Whaley, the one-time centerpiece of the 1961 Central Park Children’s Zoo, and unofficial Rockaway Beach mascot since 1996, had been swept out to sea, leaving only its tail behind. I hadn’t thought about that old zoo for years, but lately, I’ve been on a quest to bring it back, if only in my mind. I kept wondering what had happened to all the other gloriously whimsical Disney-like structures, which were lovingly financed by former Governor Herbert Lehman and his wife for their 50th anniversary, and if anything had been preserved.



When it first opened, the Lehman Zoo was a big hit. Walking through the ornamental Lehman gates (which are still there) and then through a small pavilion, kids were deluged with eye candy. Culled from Biblical tales, fairy tales, children’s songs, and even great literature, the zoo’s gorgeous structures were interactive and housed many small animals. You could walk up the plank to a Noah’s Ark sitting on a duck filled pond; visit a the Three Little Pigs house; climb up through an "enchanted" castle; wander through the Hansel and Gretel cottage; pet some animals at the Old MacDonald’s farm; or wrangle an invitation from the White Rabbit to the Alice in Wonderland tunnel.

Screen captures from an episode of the 1960s series “Naked City”--a treasure trove of vanished New York--show just how beautiful the zoo once was. And besides, where else could you find Robert Duvall and Whaley onscreen together?



But alas, time wasn’t kind to the zoo. By the time I was visiting in the 1970s, it had fallen into shocking disrepair. Whaley’s mouth aquarium was empty and broken, and the place was covered in garbage and filth. The animals that were still there had fallen into the same gloomy despair that had overtaken the entire economically strapped city. It was so badly decomposed that the city shut it down in the early 1990s. 

As it lay in ruins, financing came through and it was decided that a new children’s zoo would be constructed. But controversy soon swelled around the little old zoo, as battling factions tried to decide what would be best for the kids. Modernists wanted a dignified educational space, while preservationists pleaded to save the old structures. Others even made the absurd argument that the Jonah’s Whale and Noah’s Ark were inappropriately religious. Modernity eventually won out, and in 1997, a new zoo opened. Baby boomers were heartbroken, life moved on, and the old zoo became a forgotten relic of a bygone era. Or did it?



A New York Times article from the 90s gave me a hint: “Some of the zoo's old structures were given to the Museum of the City of New York, but the two largest, the whale and Noah's Ark, were promised to the Rockaways. The Ark crumbled to a heap of memories before it could be moved. But on an unusually cool and windy summer night, a truck carrying the whale left for the Rockaways.” Indeed, two photos in the Times archive show just how badly decomposed the Ark and the enchanted castle had become.

I emailed the Museum of the City of New York to see if they really had anything left. Much to my utter shock and delight a very informative archivist worked with me to provide another piece to the puzzle. Sure enough, the museum has quite a few items in their collection: a “Do Not Feed the Animals” sign; some tulip-shaped street lamps; and, best of all, a fully intact White Rabbit.



But after that tiny victory and many more dead ends, I decided to stop. I was getting more and more angry at the way the zoo was dismissed as a silly, outdated artifact instead of the charming wonderland that made generations of us kids very very happy. If all I have left are Google images, “Naked City” screen grabs, and some lovely memories, then I’m satisfied.

Clocks to Cupcakes

In business in the city for over 60 years, the Sutton Clock Shop had perched above Lexington and 61st since 1967. They lost their lease in 2012 and have since moved north to 82nd Street. (Watch author Douglas Rushkoff in the new store.)


2010

At the time, the second-generation owner told NY City Lens that the landlord had "plans to merge the space with its downstairs neighbor and anticipates a large franchise to move into the building."


2012

The first-floor jewelry shop was also forced to close. From an old photo on the Sutton Clocks site, we can see there had been a jewelry shop in the space for many years. It made sense, the shops went together: jewelry and clocks. Solid objects that last, that get passed down through the generations. Treasures that aren't consumed and then flushed away. But so much for all that.



What's moving in? It's yet another link in the ever-lengthening, sticky, gooey cupcake chain that continues to constrict New York City.

Baked by Melissa has its plywood up, all wrapped in a vinyl sheet dotted with mini cupcakes like a measles outbreak. Melissa has only been around since 2009, but her shops are spreading like wildfire (maybe because her cupcake-making ethos draws "on inspiration from the care-free rock 'n roll culture of the 60's and 70's").

Just half a block south there's already Sprinkles, the Beverly Hills cupcake chain that replaced the great and unforgotten Gino. Cupcakes beget more cupcakes.



The Sutton Clock Shop signs are down, with their "PL8" telephone exchange and their invitation to "please come up." You can't walk on Lexington anymore and look up to see something rare and wonderful, a window cluttered with clocks, a shop where a son has taken over his father's old-world craft, where the room ticks with the heartbeat of time. (Watch this lovely film for a look inside.)

Since the landlord planned to merge the spaces, I assume Melissa will be selling her cupcakes in the clock shop's space, too, but I don't know.

“New York is always changing,” the shop's owner told NY City Lens last year. “When I was growing up there were all these little ‘mom and pop’ shops up and down the avenue with hot dog stands and now they are all being replaced with banks and national chains.”

And cupcake shops. Don't forget all the goddamn cupcake shops.


More cupcake mishegoss:
King Kong and Cupcakes
Make Way for Sprinkles
How the Cupcake Crumbled
Cupcake Trash

*Everyday Chatter

Bravo's Andy Cohen tells the Times, "I hope that the incentives for small businesses in Manhattan improve so that we can maintain the fabric of what makes this city great, which is originality... I can’t stand going on vanishingnewyork.com and seeing what’s next to go." [NYT]

Scorsese on the development of more Bowery high-rises--they "only create more chaos, more disruption and ultimately offer The Bowery up to the elements of conformity." [DNA]

Alec Baldwin fights the Mighty Quinnberg. [HP]

A history of the Meatpacking District's death by retail. [Racked]

Check out Alan Wolfson's miniature Village Cigars. [AW]

Hear the stories of Midwood's senior citizens. [TLP]

No more Hong Wah for MacDougal St. [WSP]

"It is safe to say that the place will not be turning into an artisanal cocktail joint any time soon. Donovan’s is going to be, more or less, Donovan’s." [NYT]

At the Met, punk as couture. [Met]

The creative class strategy has only made cities better for "the hip and cool." [DB]

Richard Florida replies. "Enough already with this tired and divisive debate about families versus hipsters." [DB]

Gowanus Balloons

Now and then, I get over to Gowanus and wind through its desolate streets. You never know what you're going to find in that strange industrial wasteland.



For example, a bunch of silver balloons, filled with helium, rising and falling in the wind. They look like an organism on their own. They call to you, making you wonder how they got here. Did they get lost, drop, and snag on a tree's fallen limb? Did a jilted lover leave them behind?



Venturing down a muddy "do not enter" driveway, past a row of crumbling buildings, a cracked patio where a greasy cat is stalking prey, you come to the toxic waters.



There the balloons are tethered--to an inflatable, gold-painted dolphin, itself tethered to a half-sunken boat stuffed with bright beach balls. (An homage to the dolphin who died here?)



There isn't another human being anywhere in view. It's just you and the balloons. A moment of quiet mystery.

Not for long. More condos are coming. The cafes and Whole Foods. There is little space left for quiet mysteries.

Italian Food Center

Since 1954, the Grand Italian Food Center had served Little Italy--sandwiches, breads, pasta, pastries, olives, cheese. Then it vanished. It lost its lease and shuttered either in late 2010 or early 2011.

Now there's a new "Italian Food Center" in its spot.


2011

This new Food Center doesn't look anything like the old Food Center. It's been made to appear old, however, with scrubby bricks and a faux-rusted sign that will likely convince the tourists into believing it's been here since there were actual Italians still living in Little Italy.



The level of decor, with windows vaguely reminiscent of the High Line's colored window art, subway tiled walls, and a ceiling hung with those trendy silver bowl lightbulbs, makes me think this is not a rebirth of the Italian Food Center we once knew.

But I could be wrong.

There's a website. Sort of. I've tried, but I can't find anything out on this one. Any clues?