A Good Sign: Lee's Chinese Laundry & Cleaners

Lee's Laundry Chinese & Cleaners? Huh? Oh, wait, Lee's Chinese Laundry & Cleaners.

In Riverdale, The Bronx.

Our Burden Grows

I haven't said anything to date about the City's stultifyingly stupid and misguided plan to rezone 125th Street. But a recent article in the New York Times, which featured a mind-blowingly narrow-minded comment by the Department of City Planning deeply inappropriate chairwoman, Amanda Burden, has compelled me to weigh in. So here goes: The plan is stultifyingly stupid and misguided.

Surprised I think it's a bad idea? Yeah, I didn't think so. But, call me naive—I am surprised that somebody, anybody could think this was a good idea. The African-American community of Harlem sticks it out through thick and (mostly) thin, remaining in place so as to hold on to its history and heritage in the once-glorious, but long-blighted neighborhood, and how does the City repay them? By opening the gate to blue-chip development. Bring in those office towers, where the locals won't be able to rent space! Bring in those condos, where the locals can't afford to live! Tear down the low-scale buildings, some part of the landscape for 100 years, and cast the open, airy street in darkness!

Why is glass, steel, office space and luxury housing this administration's answer to every city planning "problem." Is there no other way to revitalize a neighborhood? Must every neighborhood look like a place where Bloomberg could work and live? Are anonymous condo complexes more attractive than brownstones, however tumbledown? Is an anodyne doorman lobby better than a bumptious bodega?

To Burden's mind, probably so. Which brings us to that very telling comment of hers. She told the Times that "The idea that the street needed development hit her, she said, when she attended a recent Roberta Flack concert at the Apollo with a friend who works on the street. After the concert ended, Ms. Burden said, she asked her friend where they should eat. `Downtown,' the friend replied. "There should be a million different eateries around there, and this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to frame and control growth on 125th Street. The energy on the street is just remarkable, and it’s got to stay that way."

Uh?

I'd be embarrassed for her if I weren't so furious. Dining choices? For upper-crust twits? That is a reason to overhaul a street, to irrevocably change its personality, erase the legacy of a people who have lived and died there for a century? You know what? If I had gone to that Roberta Flack concert and was hungry afterwards, I would have known where to eat. I would have known where to go. Anyone who knew the first thing about Harlem would have. The place may not have had white tablecloths or a snooty hostess or careful lighting, but it would have had good food, some of it of a kind you can't find the better of anywhere in the City. Sylvia's, Amy Ruth's, Rao's and Patsy's, just to begin with the legendary places. There is wonderful Senegalese food to be found. A Zagat's will tell you about plenty more.

Much Jean-Georges open something on old 125 for Harlem to past muster?

Wait a minute! It's all coming together now. Mayor Mike likes Subway sandwiches and Cheeze-Its. The Parks Department doesn't like the Red Hook Ballfields food vendors. Burden doesn't think there is anything to eat in Harlem. It's all so clear! The Bloombergians hate good food! No wonder they're so miserable.

A Good Sign: Michael's Meat Market

Enjoy this hand-painted beauty while you may. The store is shuttered and it won't be hanging outside for long.

The Shedman Cometh

The world is now safe from the Rat-Squirrel House. Relatively, anyway. Some time yesterday or today some construction types hemmed in the Cobble Hill hazard. It's not a shed, per se; it's scaffolding. As seen above, the first floor surrounded by a green wooden box of scaffolding on top of blue metal poles and capped with a sprawling plywood bowl the shape of a giant catcher's mitt—all the better to catch the cornice and air-conditioner when they fall.

And that cornice is going to fall, boy! The arrival of the scaffolding seems to have given the sad building the permission to let it all hang out, with the cornice noticeably sagged further southward. I give it ten days before a big chunks drops down.

Rumblings at Chumley's

Well, whaddaya know. What I reported turned out to be true. Construction did begin at Chumley's on Monday, just list owner Steve Shlopak said. Eater posted evidence of the activity and the sight cheers my heart. I think the predicted opening date of May is pretty damn optimistic, but at least the building's not sitting there silent.

Vegetarians, Avert Your Gaze

Just posting this for fun. I eat meat, but even this butcher window gives me the willies. Pig toes? Baby goats? Eeesh! Gotta hand it to them, though, for flying their true colors. They're butchers, and no two ways about it.

Old 42nd Street Ain't Gone Yet

Don't now how I missed it all these years, but today, as I stood at the intersection of Ninth and 42nd, this sign hit my eyes like a bullet.

The sign just reeks of "Lost Weekend" and "Taxi Driver" and every other film every made of the seedy side of New York City. The old Pepsi logo, the block-lettered "Hotel," the sign small of it and the fact it swings forlornly in the wind—all beautiful. The hotel in question is the Elk Hotel, a flophouse. The sign hangs on the Eighth Avenue side, and one has to imagine it's there for drunks trying to getting to their room who can't figure out why somebody moved the door. Oh, I just love the sign. Love it, love it.

What a Croc

What's going on with 143 Spring Street, the home some time ago of the barbeque place Tennessee Mountain, but the home lately of absolutely nothing?

The Crocs company—the Boulder, Colorado-based outfit that makes a ton of really popular, ugly shoes—bought the building back in the summer of 2006. One would think Crocs would have the money to open the location, or at least keep it up. But look at it. It's falling apart. The paint is chipped, the facade and windows are defiled with graffiti, windows are broken. I took a picture of it at this time last year and it was in significantly better shape. This is a historic, landmark building in one of the City's most visible landmark districts and it's just going to pot.

Some joker named William J. Rockwell Architect LL has filed a lot of papers lately with the DOB lately to begin a lot of construction work, but I don't see anything going on. I guess that's what happens when your landlord is in Longmont, Colorado.


143 Spring Street

Beauty in a Strip Mall

Ur-New Yorkiness can be found in the most unlikely of places, so you have to keep you eyes and mind open. Strip malls would seem to be a product of suburbia and the enemy or urban authenticity. But the Skyview Shopping Mall in Riverdale rebukes that notion.

Why? Well, perhaps because, judging from its appearance, it was built back in the early '60s and was thus an early example of strip-mall architecture, when builders still strove to create something with a modicum of character. But mainly because it is filled with with mom-and-pop businesses that seem to have rented out their spaces the day the mall opened. (The black-and-white photo below testifies that at least two of the shops—the pharmacy and the deli—were indeed part of the mall when it began.)

There is a (kosher) Dunkin' Donuts here, and a Food Emporium. Beyond that, however, there's a pharmacy and a card store that your grandmother could have recognized as what a pharmacy and a card store should look like, exhibiting no advertising or sales techniques that were invented after World War II. Anchoring the mall are three well-established kosher businesses. (Skyview is a kosher wonderland, in fact; fully three-quarters of the stores have rabbinical supervision.) These are Skyview Wine & Spirits, which is renowned for having the best selection of kosher wine in New York City; Gruenenbaum's, a bakery with a small lunch place in the back (it has other locations elsewhere); and Skyview Glatt Kosher Deli, one of the last good real New York Delis left in the city. The last two also boast nifty signs.

The whole mall bristles with character and brassy Gotham integrity. You wouldn't find it anywhere else.

How to Give a Neighborhood the Finger

There's been a lot of ire addressed at the aggressive, Williamburg, Robert Scarano creation known as the "Finger Building," called such because (I presume) of its shape and the way it sticks out like a sore thumb (or finger) in the middle of the block, and, also, because it is figuratively giving the finger to its low-slung neighbors.

I'm no Finger Building apologist. But a walk through Soho recently recalled to my memory that it is possible for a finger building to bring beauty to a community. Look at this long slender number on the south side of Broome Street, near Broadway. Now that's a finger you could welcome into the neighborhood! The architect, one John T. Williams, adhered to the cast-iron character of the area when he built the thing in 1895, and, since the building would be so prominent, endeavored to make it as attractive as possible, from foot to crown. There are only three windows across on the Broadway side, but 26 on the Broome side; the contrast is quite striking, as is the large, oxidized cornice on top.

In one respect, however, Soho's 19th-century finger building is similar to Williamsburg's 21st-century finger building—its architect was a jerk. Williams was not only an architect but a developer, and he didn't give a tinker's damn what the public thought. According to the New York Times:

In the 1890's he was involved in a controversy with Phillips' Presbyterian Church at the northeast corner of 73d Street and Madison Avenue. Williams decided to build a private stable for his own use next to the church, and he was subjected to a storm of editorial and public condemnation. Stable builders in such situations generally retreated, but Williams remained unmoved, refusing even to meet with the church's architects.

Oh, well. At least he left behind a gorgeous building, not a piece of crapiteture.

Rat Squirrel House Still Shedless, But More Popular With Media

The Rat Squirrel House on Kane Street in Cobble Hill is in a state of stasis since being shut down and roped off a couple of weeks ago. A promised wooden shed to cover the eyesore and public hazard has not arrived, even as increased media attention has.

New York 1, whose presence Lost City reported on Feb. 14, ran its story on the tumble-down landmark last week. The story contained a few interesting pieces of information. Landlady Arlene Karlsen owes the Department of Buildings $130,000 in fines, "but the city has compelled her neither to pay up nor to move out." The DOB lamely told NY1 that "they had to allow her the opportunity to make repairs." This, four years after the fines began. The DOB did, however, issue an "Emergency" violation on Feb. 20. Not sure what that means, if anything.

Not that I'm complaining, but no mention whatsoever in the article of Lost City, the site where they first learned about the Rat Squirrel House. But what can you expect from a reporter with the name of Lindley Pless?

First the Dodgers Leave, Now This

And you wake up, you try to face the world with a cheerful mood, you browse through the news of the day—and you find another great chunk of New York is chucked into the dustbin.

Just yesterday, I was bidding farewell to Cafe La Fortuna on the Upper West Side. This morning, the Brooklyn Eagle tells me Armando's, an anchor of Brooklyn Heights' Montague Street will be closing March 16 after 72 ever-lovin', blue-eyed years.

We can't blame the landlord this time, because the restaurant owner is the landlord. Peter Byros, who's owned the one-time Sinatra haunt for the last 27 years, has decided to redevelop the property, and has already rented out the space to another eatery. This place isn't just some old Italian joint. It's a real slice of Brooklyn history. The Dodgers used to eat there after the game. Norman Mailer ate there. Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller reportedly dined there when Miller lived in Brooklyn Heights. (Monroe is commemorated on the walls with several photos and one not-altogether cheesy oil painting.)

A waiter said the place will become a sandwich shop, serving panini and such, with no bar.

Almost as sad as losing the restaurant is losing the great neon sign—the last on the strip and one of the best in the city, with its mix of blue, red and green light, slightly Deco lettering and illustration of a lobster.

Crowds and Lennon at Cafe La Fortuna's Last Day

Cafe La Fortuna did not forget its most famous patron on its last day in business. On Sunday, capacity crowds listening to "Mind Games" on the stereo and watched a series of short films featuring Beatle John Lennon and Yoko Ono on the Upper West Side's small flat-screen television.

There was barely room to breathe at the small 71st Street cafe, which recently decided to pack it in after rents skyrocketed and one of the two owners died. Dozens packed the two rooms of small wooden tables, while a line ran out the door. By their bohemian, somewhat older, slightly mangy look, the customers appeared to be died-in-the-wool Upper West Siders, the kind of well-read, left-leaning people who used to dominate the neighborhood before the yuppies and richies moved in over the past decade. Unsmiling counter staff were busy fixing endless orders of salads and pastries. One man of unknown affiliation was filming the scene, presumedly for the news. Others (like moi) made due with digital cameras. Everyone seemed to know that something special was passing into history.

In the window, the sole remaining owner, Vincent Urward (whose co-owner wife had passed), posted a sign which began "Cafe La Fortuna has become another casualty of an out of control real estate market." That's "out of control," not healthy, not robust, not vigorous; call it what it is. "[We wish] to acknowledge no animosity toward any single landlord." That's all right, Vince; I'll acknowledge him: New landlord, you suck. May you choke on every new dollar you get from your new tenant, and may the scolding phantasm of John Lennon haunt your sleep.

Does Chumley's Road to New Life Begin Monday?

I was in the Village recently and thought I'd swing by the wreck of Chumley's to mope over the tragedy of it all for a while. To my surprise, I found the door leading to the speakeasy's secret courtyard back entrance open, so I went in to cast my eyes on the long-unseen wooden door.

As I loitered there, I was surprised by the sudden entrance of a man who asked if I was looking for Chumley's. "May," he said. Huh? "It will open in May. Work begins on Monday." Assuming he was a neighbor, I asked if that's what he had heard from the owner. "I am the owner," he said. Egads! This was Steve Shlopak.

Shlopak has name a lot of dates for the reopening in the past: October, Thanksgiving, etc. But the mention of Monday as a start-work date was very specific and set my heart a-fluttering with newfound hope. Let's hope there's some truth in it.

Can't Yoko Do Something?

City Room reports that the charming Upper West Side Cafe La Fortuna, which was a favorite of John Lennon and Yoko Ono back in the day, will close on Sunday.

The 30-year-old cafe lost its kind, ungreedy landlord three years ago. He kept the rent low for the owners' sake. (Can you imagine?) No such luck with the new landlord. That made things tough. Then, in January, Alice Urwand, the wife part of the husband-and-wife team that ran the place, died. Her spouse Vincent decided it was time to pack it in.

The cafe, on W. 71st Street, has only been in operation since 1976, but it feels somehow eternal. It is small, with brick walls, a black tin ceiling and small tables. They only take cash. Sadly, I only visited this place for the first time last year. I'll try to make it there one more time this weekend.

Is Monteleone Bakery Endangered Again?

It seems only last year when we were all breathing a sigh of relief with the reopening of the classic Carroll Gardens Monteleone bakery as the Monteleone and Cammareri bakery, after the former sat shuttered for many months and the latter for several years. Well, actually it was just last year.

But now it appears that the future of wonderful mecca of crusty bread and miniature pastries may be in question again. A realty company is listing the bakery as up for sale. The listing read "FANTASTIC OPPORTUNITY TO OWN A PIECE OF BROOKLYN’S HISTORY!!!
In the Heart of Carroll Gardens, a Well-Established Pastry Shop is Up For Grabs!" A quick call confirmed it was Monteleone, and whoever came up with the $550,000 asking price (which includes a lot of baking equipment) could keep it as a bakery or change it into anything they want. Sigh.

When Did That Go?

I guess I knew the Broadway Inn had to go sometime—it was just too cheap and too small to survive in today's Times Square, and was part of a block that has been falling down address by address—but somehow I missed it's actual exit.

I walked by its location at the southeast corner of 46th and Eighth today and found the doorway boarded up. Looked like it had been that way for some time. The Broadway Inn was a small hotel used mainly by bargain-seeking tourists looking to see a few shows and lower tier theatre professionals. The rooms were small, but clean and inexpensive. The lobby, which was on the second floor, had a twee charm to it; the place was more like a bed and breakfast than anything.

The old eatery and bar JR's used to be part of the same building. On the 45th Street side of the block is where the low-rent restaurants Barrymore's and Sam's used to be. Rumors have been flying around for years that this end of the block is to be torn down so that another large hotel, possibly one with a theatre inside, might be erected. Something's up, that's for sure, because the businesses keep closing and nothing's coming in to replace them. The Shubert Organization is thought to be involved somehow, since they own or owned a number of the properties that now lay dormant. The whole thing's a big freakin' mystery that's sure to end badly.

Shining the Greasy Spoon

Paid a call on the Edison Cafe—aka The Polish Tea Room—for the usual bowl of matzo ball soup, and noticed a brighter, cleaner vibe to the whole place. Sure enough, the diner is in the midst of a paint job. The peach-pink walls have been replaced by a calmer, soothing, creamy tan. The intricate scroll work has been kept white. It looks like the painters paid a great deal of attention to detail and I applaud their work. The place looks swell and hasn't lost an ounce of its character.

The day I visited, the lunch traffic was brisk. I mean the place was packed. No wonder, since there is virtually nowhere else to go in the neighborhood for a good, cheap lunch anymore.

Not Longer Seeing Red

Like cockroaches, chain stores will make a home in any nook or cranny where they see an opening.

This tiny Dunkin' Donuts is on a semi-subterranean level of the 50th Street subway stop on the 1 line. What makes its presence so galling is this where the old Siberia bar used to be. Siberia was a deliciously gritty, grungy hole-in-the-wall dive that had a particularly cool vibe because it was hidden from view, and known only to those who knew it. The owners claimed the space used to be a gathering of old KGB types. From spies to sprinkles; not much of an evolution.

Rat-Squirrel House Hits the Tube

Cable Channel 12 appears to have been the first to have brought the saga of the Rat Squirrel House to the TV screens. I didn't see the item, because—luddite that I am—I don't have cable, but a helpful reporter at the station sent me the text. It read:

(02/19/08) COBBLE HILL - Neighbors are upset over shingles flying off a roof and plenty of squirrels and pigeons in a vacated Cobble Hill home.

The city slapped a vacate order last week on 149 Kane St., which has landmark status. Residents say it's been a long time coming.

"With the roof open and water coming through the building, what's on the sides of the home can be affected," said neighbor Anthony DiGuglielmo.

According to residents, the owner, who reportedly lived in the rundown brownstone as recently as last week, often got defensive when they suggested that she make repairs.

Neighbors hope the situation will improve now that the Department of Buildings has stepped in.

There's a video out there that you fine folks in cable-land can access. I like the tidbit about the landlord getting defensive. I wonder where she's gone to, or if, maybe, she's still in there. I wouldn't be surprised.

In the meantime, Monday was a rainy day—always bad news for Rat Squirrel House, which has a mighty porous roof. The cornice visibly drooped closer to the ground. It might be my imagination, but I feel the entire building has aged markedly in the week since the Fire Department and Department of Building came down on it's head. It is now almost romantic in its decrepitude.

Still, public safety must be taken into consideration. So, please, DOB, get that shed out here to cover up the ruin. And please take that air conditioner out of the second-floor window. That baby is coming down any minute now.

It's the Little Things

The streets of New York City are some visually multifarious that, whenever a condo-tower-in-the making or a gleaming fast food sign offends your eyes, soon enough something, however small, comes along to delight them.

In from of a Clinton Street home near Cobble Hill Park, some considerate and slightly eccentric homeowner has constructed a tiny model of the City around the property's street-tree plot. It's made of blonde wood and metal and is easy to miss, since it very much resembles a low-lying fence. Look closely, however, and you'll see the profile of the Brooklyn Bridge out front and a familiar skyline to the north side, including the Chrysler and the Empire State and a couple others I'm not sure of. It makes me smile every time I pass it.

A Good Sign: Caffe Dante

It's the odd way "Espresso" curls around the corner of the sign, as if the maker hadn't quite judged correctly for space, that makes this a New York sign full of character. The white letters on black look helps, too.

The Mysterious Masks of Tiffany Place

In the middle of semi-swanky, old-world-charm Tiffany Place in Cobble Hill, on a wall some 100 feet away from the street, are hung on the gray bricks that replaced a onetime window two unusual, incongruous masks. You have to have a keen eye to notice them. The female mask is quite comely; it would be at home on top the proscenium of any old theatre. The male mask, meanwhile, is a fright; a Halloween-worthy visage with jug ears, a high forehead and deep-set eyes. They make for an unseemly couple. Toward the right is a third mask, a bright yellow, leonine godhead of some kind.

What it's all about, I've got not idea. Bound to creep you out if they catch you off guard some night, though.

Beautiful Coney Island Sign Wiped Out

What really gets to us preservation-minded folks is not so much the intentional ruination of our City's culture by the real estate interests, but the frequent occasions in which great old things are just randomly, stupidly, thoughtlessly obliterated.

The Coney Island B&B Carousel sign is a particularly egregious case in point. The carousel itself isn't there anymore, but it's in the process of being restored. The old sign advertising the attraction has remained, meanwhile, a happy reminder of fun days gone by. Well, no more. Gowanus Lounge reports that some idiot steamrolled over the sign with a paint roller, rendering the entire surface the most putrid shade of tan. What a profane piece of rank vandalism! That sign was one of the few things left on Surf Avenue worth setting your eyes on.


(Thanks to Captain Nemo for the pictures.)

A Good Sign: Rainbow Cafe

You just know you want to have your wedding or party at Sunset Park's classic Rainbow Cafe. Certainly one of the oldest businesses along Fifth Avenue.

Landmarks Commission to Consider Whether Ugly Towers Are Pretty

The Landmarks Commission has learned how to fuck up in a new way.

Not only do they ignore buildings and districts that should be landmarked, they now consider buidlings that have no right to the status of preserved, treasure buidling. The Commission "is expected on Tuesday to schedule a hearing on whether to designate Silver Towers/University Village, a concrete complex designed by I. M. Pei that was part of Robert Moses’s vast urban renewal program, as a historic landmark," wrote City Room.

I mean look at them. Look at them!! This is modern architecture at its cold, faceless, soulless worst! I don't care is I.M Pei is famous and has a cool-looking name, and put that glass pyramid in the middle of The Louvre, this is crap work, and particularly egregious in that it's in the middle of the Village. The bodegas on either side on my block are more worthy.

Red Hooks Vendors Challenged by Cowardly Anonymous Weasels

What the hell it this?

According to the Brooklyn Paper, the Red Hook Ballfield vendors met at Red Hook Park with members of the Parks Department for a "tour for prospective bidders," to make their intention that they want to return to their longstanding location next summer clear. They were the only ones there. But that doesn't mean they don't have competition! There are already "two unidentified groups [who] will also bid to run the thriving weekend food market."

I'm sorry, what? They're anonymous? This is OK, that the bidders can be secretive, back room entities vying for use of a public park, while the vendors expose themselves to every sling and arrow? It's OK that the other bidders don't even do the vendors and the Parks Dept. the courtesy of showing up? That smacks of rank arrogance and an assurance that they will win this (very expensive) battle.

The Parks Department has behaved like utter and complete scum in this whole affair. It's so patently clear that they never intended to give the vendors a fair shake and some deal was made with a large food concern way before the whole process began. I say, if anyone other than the vendors wins the bid, the boycott begins here.

And there's the sad fact that one vendor will definitely not return. "Victor Rojas, the ceviche man whose stand was usually the furthest west on Bay Street," wrote the Voice, "has decided to bow out already because of financial concerns." He was one of the best.

Bad Days for Red Sauce Joints

News from Queens and Brooklyn indicates the City will soon be losing two of its more authentic Italian red sauce joints.

Over at Queens Crap, a readers post news that Salerno's in Richmond Hill may be gone for good. The restaurant has been around for more than 70 years, and was a location in "Goodfellas." The door has a sign saying "closed for renovations," but word on the street is otherwise, and no one is answering the phone.

Over in Carroll Gardens, meanwhile, Casa Rosa on Court and Carroll Streets is on the market. They're asking $3.3 million for the building and lot, and, with that prime location (right near the park, lots of foot traffic and services), they'll get it. The building's been around for at least 100 years, and most of that time its been a restaurant, though not always the Casa Rosa, which is a fairly recent place. For a time, it appears, it was a pool parlor, which is cool. The DOC site shows that while the address has incurred quite a few DOB violations over the last 25 years, all of them have been dismissed. Hmmm.

I'd be sad to see Casa Rosa go. Not that it's such great food, but it's one of the last red-sauce, old-style places that were once so prevalent in Carroll Gardens and are redolent of the neighborhood's history. If it vanishes, that only leaves The Red Rose on Smith, really. And, I suppose, Marco Polo, though that's a much fancier affair, and who knows what's going on with that place these days.

The photo's courtesy of Pardon Me For Asking.

More Images of What Was Tin Pan Alley

I didn't expect folks to be so interested in the sad midtown block that used to be Tin Pan Alley. Just goes to show, you never know. Anyway, here a few more images of the doors that once led to the more powerful and popular (and historically influential) music publishers in the world.

No. 51 is where Paul Dresser Publishing was. No. 49 is where M. Witmark & Songs was located.

The Great Wall of Union Street

Something's afoot at 340 Court, the large property near Union Street that was recently sold by Long Island College Hospital to the Clarett Group, and where a lot of asbestos was being carted out recently. Some workers were rapidly putting up a six-foot wooden fence-cum-barrier around the project. A construction fence, I assume. Hm. Maybe they're going to star tearing down the thing soon? Anyway, makes is awful hard to see what's going on in there now.

Second News Cycle on Rat-Squirrel House Begins

It happened again. I was walking by the forlorn, cordoned-off Rat Squirrel house on Kane Street in Cobble Hill and institutional folks were on the premises conducting official business. Somebody up there wants me to record the sad demise of this landmarked edifice.

This time is was a member of the media—a cameraman for NY1, who said a story on the house would be seen on the channel next week. He still had some legwork to do and, no, he had not talked to the woman who lives inside. Can it be long before the Dailies cover the story?

As for the owner, she'll have to leave her crumbling red-brick bungalow soon. The Department of Building slapped a "Vacate" notice on the door. I learned more of the building's sad history from locals. It has long had a serious termite problem, one so bad that the bugs spread the walls and beams of the building to the left. No wonder the thing's falling down; it's eaten out inside.

History in a Starbucks: 1500 Broadway

The land on which this Starbucks now sits, at the southeast corner of Broadway and 43rd, once carried the Barrett House Hotel, where future playwright Eugene O'Neill was born on Oct. 16, 1888. If was only right he should be born in a Broadway hotel. His father was the actor James O'Neill, a once promising talent who became a hack, throwing away his career by performing the same money-making play, "The Count of Monte Cristo," across the nation, year after year. He was, in fact, playing the part in New York when Eugene was born.

The Barrett was only five years old when the O'Neills took a room. It was opened by two brothers, William C and Hooper C. Barrett. William died suddenly of blood poisoning following an operation in 1893. He was 46. By 1901, Hooper had lost control of the hotel and become a bankrupt. Hooper died in 1936.

The Barrett later became the Cadillac Hotel. There was a fire in its restaurant in 1937. The next year, there was a small fire of "undetermined origin" in a linen closet. Sounds like someone wanted to burn the hotel down. The eight-story building was finally razed in 1940. At the time, it was called "old" and a neighborhood "landmark." If Eugene O'Neill cared, he was still alive to see his birthplace come down.

Cemusa Hasn't Gotten This One Yet

Soulful newsstands still live in NYC. For now.

Where Have You Gone, George Gershwin?

The above nondescript line of storefronts is all that's left of Tin Pan Alley, the songwriting mecca of the early 20th century which was concentrated on W. 28th Street between Broadway and Sixth Avenue. They tell me there's a plaque on the block somewhere commemorating its history, but I can't find it. Otherwise, there's no indication of the mind-bending amount of cultural history that was made on this small stretch of street.

Given the number of songs rattling around in our collective memory that were hatched here and the great musical careers that were born on this strip of street, it's neglect by the City is one of monumental proportions. "After the Ball," "Sidewalks of New York," "A Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight," "Hello My Baby," "Only a Bird in a Gilded Cage," "Bill Bailey, Won't You Come Home," "Down By the Old Mill Stream," "Give Me Regards to Broadway," "K-K-K-Katy," "The Darktown Strutter's Ball," "In the Good Old Summertime," "Peg o' My Heart" and hundreds more—all written here. I don't know about you—and I don't know what it says about me—by I know a good chunk of all those songs by heart.

That the ramshackle assortment of buildings have survived at all is some sort of miracle, I guess. It's easy to look at these structures, with their stairs leading up to windowed, second-story storefronts, and imagine Irving Berlin trotting up a flight to try and sell another ditty. The stairway to the right of the blue awning above was once Shapiro, Bernstein & Company, a leading music publisher, and later on the Jerome Remick Music Co., another biggie. Remick's main claim to fame was that teenage George Gershwin worked there as a song plugger—that is, he played songs for potential buyers.
Gershwin met Irving Caesar here. Together they wrote "Swanee," Gershwin's first hit and the man's career was made.

At 49, below, was M. Witmark & Songs, which was responsible for hundreds of hit songs. Later is was Paul Dresser Publishing Co. Across the street was Leo Fiest ("You can't go wrong with a Fiest song.") Ought to be a small City museum on this block somewhere.

Rat-Squirrel House Lady Disappoints DOB

Fate wants me to report on the Rat-Squirrel House of Kane Street, Cobble Hill, because everytime I walk by there something official is happening.

The sorry-looking redbrick building, which was spray-painted and roped off by the fire department yesterday, received a visit from the Department of Building today. (Two guys wearing official DOB jackets—cool!) They were armed with a digital camera and ready to inspect. (See them above.) But the derelict lady landlord who reportedly lives inside the ruin wasn't answering the door. Ready for questioning, however, was a furry squirrel, who climbed out of the garden level window to greet the DOB men. (And it was a squirrel this time, no doubt. Fuzzy tail and all.) Today's snow will no doubt speed along the building's demise. Stay tuned.

A Good Sign: La-Rosa Cubana Cigars

Signs, actually. Count how many times they say "Hand made cigars."

The wonderful La-Rosa has been in a second floor space on Sixth Avenue near 31st since 1958. Most of their ciggies are made with Dominican leaf. I'm guessing the store got its name (and keeps it) because it began when relations between the U.S. and Cuba were still cordial.

To me this window-front is pure New York and what the City should look like. Take note, Bloomie. Subways and Cemusa do not look like New York.

Flatiron in the Snow

Just thought I'd get all Stieglitz on you.

Some Stuff That's Interesting, and Some That's About Pizza

There's hope for St. Savior's in Maspeth.

Ancient Carroll Gardens bar P.J. Hanley's may soon serve ancient food of Italy.

The facade of 211 Pearl Street just doesn't look happy.

Developer Billy Stein gave 360 Smith architect Robert Scarano the heave-ho. Now, how do we give Billy Stein the heave-ho?

Di Fara slices are up to $4 and I don't care. They charge $3.50 for the crap as Sbarro's, don't they?

It's Snowing

Holy moly, it's snowing. My head was so bent over work all day, that I didn't even notice until the wife called and told me. Looks like it will be a decent fall. The great snow-drought of 2008 is over.

Stop Me Before I Predict Again!

We over here at Lost City are feeling a little wigged out right now. Our intention with this blog was always to cry out against the real and potential losses of crucial aspects and addresses of the New York City landscape. But we never intended to become some kind of Cassandra, predicting cultural deaths before they occur.

But that's what seems to be happening. Last year, I wondered aloud how long an antiquated business like G&D Television Repair could last. By December it has closed. In December, I warned that St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Woodside, Queens, ought to be landmarked before it fell to ruin. A few days later, it was gutted by a horrible fire. Also in December, I remarked that the landmark-district building 149 Kane Street was in such poor shape it was in danger of falling down. Yesterday, it all but did, and is on the verge of being condemned.

It's enough to give a guy a blogging block. But, wait, maybe I can use my new powers for good! Worth a try. Let's see...I have a strong feeling that, if nobody does anything the prevent it, Chumley's in danger of reopening by the end of the week.

D-Day for Queens Landmarks

Does Queens matter?

The city’s Landmarks Preservation Commission will decide today. It is expected to vote this afternoon of two buildings up for landmark status: Congregation Tifereth Israel in Queens, and the Jamaica Savings Bank building. City Room suggests both will make the grade. If so, good. If not, it will send a pretty clear message that no buildings in Queens are worth preserving and that the political machine controls all real estate issues out there.

UPDATE (6 PM): Both made the cut! Yeah!

Is This the End of Rat-Squirrel House?

As much as I am disinclined to revisit the rat-squirrel controversy of the decrepit heap that is 149 Kane Street in Cobble Hill, I must report this momentous news.

The red-brick disaster—a landmarked building so poorly kept by its whacked owner that the stoop is crumbling, the roof leaks, the cornice sags and half the windows are boarded up—may be a-comin' down. Walking down Henry Street at 4:30 PM today, I saw a gathering of fire engines by 149. Upon closer inspection, I saw the sidewalk in front of the slum to be cordoned off and a big "X" and "RO" spraypainted on the facade. Looking up, the facade was more droopy than I remember. "RO," I soon learned, stood for "Roof Open."

A number of neighbors were gathered on the sidewalk heatedly discussing the recent events. From what I could gather, a considerable part of the roof had come showering down, spurring the arrival of the authorities. An inspection of the house—in which the owner still dwells!—revealed alarming conditions. A local landlord said a protective shed, which would cover up the facade, was on its way, as well as a building inspector, who would determine if the structure was a danger to the public. (Duh.) If it couldn't be repaired, it would have to come down. This worried the landlord, because he had been told that, if the address was torn down, it would take one or two buildings with it. That's up to three landmarked, century-old buildings, all gone due to some old lady's carelessness.

The Department of Building, pretty swifty when it comes to computer records, has already recorded its finding: "STRUCTURAL DAMAGE AT THIS ABOVE LOCATION. PORTION OF THE BUILDING IS CONSTANTLY FALLING OFF THIS BUILDING. ROOF IS CAVING IN, ETC... BUILDING SHAKING/VIBRATING/STRUCT STABILITY AFFECTED."

Asking around the neighborhood in the past few weeks, I was shocked to learn the owner of the residence, Arlene Karlsen, was not an absent landlord, but actually lived inside, with the rat-squirrels and everything. She also owns a brownstone on Henry Street, in equally bad shape.

Well Said

I usually don't pull out comments, but this observation, by one "baha" in response to the post on Fazil's Times Square Studio, was so well put and to the point, I didn't want anybody to miss it:

The city in which I was born, as were many generations of my family before me, is dead. I mourn it every day. It was working class, middle class, and, indeed, upper class, living in this city together. Now only the upper-ultra-luxe class, or whatever they call themselves, are welcomed by Mayor Boston Business Man. May he rot in hell for destroying MY city. Do you remember the sign saga? An old law decreed that all NYC store signs had to be one foot tall, and include only name and address. Bloomie decided to enforce it. Walk along East Sixth Street sometime, and see what he's done by enforcing that law. It was rolled back in a week or two, but it destroyed that block, due to two thousand dollar fines. Those restaurants couldn't afford the fines, nor the new signs. He has no feel for this city. Go home Bloomie, to the Bahamas, or wherever you're spending the weekends these days.

This One Really Is the City's Fault!

It's easy to blame City Hall for a lot of the cultural losses New York has suffered recently, but the blame can only be applied indirectly, by pointing to some wrongheaded policy or an imagined, backroom assent.

Well, this upcoming travesty actually is the City's fault, clear and simple! The New York Times reports that Moore Street Retail Market, a Williamsburg public market that contains 13 Caribbean vendors, is being forced out of existence. The City of New York owns the land and building and wants the sellers out by June, so it can construct some housing. (Bet that building will be a cool mix of "affordable housing" and, well, not-so-affordable housing.) The market is one of only four left in the City built during the Depression (Arthur Avenue and Essex Street are others); tellingly, it's the only one that is worked by and caters to minorities.

There's a lot of depressing, but unsurprising, details in this story. One: Janel Patterson, a spokeswoman for the Economic Development Corporation, refused to be interviewed. (Add her to the City's Enemies list.) Two: the City said it was forced into a decision by the market's low rents and high overhead, which have resulted in a deficit of more than $1 million over the last four years. But how about raising the rents instead of tearing the place down? Or renting the four stalls that remain vacant? And when is the City so concerned about cost overruns, especially one so puny as $250,000 a year? Three: Gerald Esposito, the district manager of Brooklyn’s Community Board 1, said there was never any consultation between the City and the vendors about how to work out problems, just offers of buyouts and various harassments. That's because the City doesn't want the market fixed. It wants it gone!! That's why it won't talk with the innumerable local officials who have offered to make the market work.

Joan Bartolomeo, president of the Brooklyn group, said "Everybody assumes that if you say housing, everyone is going to jump on the bandwagon. But you can’t have houses without retail. This is a way to put into practice what we preach: preserve local business, provide local goods and keep the resources in the community."

Quote of the Day; Loss of the Day

Jennifer Dunning of the New York Times sure had it right yesterday when she flatly stated, "The places where cultural history was made in New York City have largely disappeared."

That statement could apply most any day of the past five years to any number of vanished landmarks, but Dunning wrote it specifically in connection to a place called Fazil’s Times Square Studio, which closed on Friday after 73 years, which means it opens in the heart of the Depression.

It wasn't always called that, because Fazil Cengiz bought the center in 1978. If was first known as Michael’s. Michael a former wrestler who taught acrobatics, tap and ballroom dance. (Cengiz was a taxi driver.) After that Jerry LeRoy, a vaudevillian, bought it. Everyone practiced their steps here. Honi Childs, Gregory Hinds, Savion Glover, Alvin Ailey, Bill Irwin, Charles Cook, the Nicholas Brothers, Fred and Adele Astaire, Judy Garland and Gene Kelly. (The nice picture of the waiting room is courtesy of the Times.)

The landlord told Fazil he had to move out last summer; the building is one of several on the block slated for demolition to make room for some new monolithic piece of crap. According to a 2000 Times article, one Lila Scheiner owned the building and much of the block (Eighth Avenue between 46th and 47th).

Fazil is tearing up the old maple floor that dancers loved so well, perhaps with the idea of laying it down somewhere else. But these days, who would have him? A small business with nothing in mind by fostering art, building community and surviving? Not a chance

A Good Sign: Lafayette Grocery and Dairy

One more sign from Fort Greene. This corner shop, on Lafayette, states its case very firmly and clearly.

These sort of black and white signs, with the block, stick-em-on letters always seem to be accompanied by round, red Coca-Cola signs. I wonder if, back in the day, Coke provided them free of charge to shops in exchange for the advertising.

Mob Hangout-Like Marco Polo Really Mob Hangout

The recent roundup of Gambino mobsters turned up a weird, though not completely surprising, tidbit of local Carroll Gardens news. Among the figures indicted was none other than Joseph Chirico, president of the Brooklyn branch of the New York Restaurant Association, and the owner of the Marco Polo Ristorante on Court Street. Chirico's mob name was actually "Joe Marco Polo." Even weirder, this means that the grand old eatery Gage & Tollner was once owned by a Goodfella!—Chirico possessed the property for the few years before the place went under.

Lord knows, Marco Polo has always seemed like that kind of place. It's rarely crowded and yet keeps going and going and going. It has that kind of grand-cum-tacky decor the the mob seems to love. And the folks inside are usually hardcore local types.

According to Time Out, "The NYSRA claimed to be unaware of the indictment, and declined to comment. Calls to the restaurant placed Chirico `on vacation in Aruba.'"

A Good Sign: Frank's Cocktail Lounge

Frank's is on Fulton Street in Fort Greene. This sign is on the side of the building. There used to be an even better old sign hanging off the facade at a perpendicular angle. Now it's gone, leaving only a rather boring awning. Still, gotta love a place that still calls itself a cocktail lounge.

Five Days Left

Hey, Landmarks Preservation Commission! Update your freakin' website!

The next public meeting is on Tuesday and there's still no agenda posted on the website. A call to the commission yesterday received a response that the agenda would be posted today. Still not there. The details for the Jan. 22 and Feb. 5 meetings were online 10 days to two weeks beforehand.

Though I guess they have until 5 PM to get it down, in today's development atmosphere in which every landmark is in danger of the wreaking ball, it's this kind of delay that breeds conspiracy theories. What exactly is on the agenda they they don't want the public to be prepared for?

I am no doubt overreacting. Hey, it's what I do.

UPDATE (Friday, 9 PM): Ah, the agenda is up. What a little whining will do!

A Million Words—Each an Indictment of Crapitecture

See all the detail on that window work on the building to the left? That's what all the new Fischer-Scarano crapitecture lack and why people like me hate them and don't consider them "progress" or "civic improvements," no matter how many vitally needed housing units they provide. Just in case anyone was wondering.

A Good Sign: French Garment Cleaners Co.

This Fort Greene dry cleaner is no longer there, but the fantastic sign reigns on, breathing a bit of Gay Paree into the surrounding environs.

What You'll Hear in the Bathroom at the Four Seasons

A different class of people than you and me relieve themselves in the men's bathroom at The Four Seasons restaurant. During a recent visit to the landmark power-lunch mecca, this is what I overheard while washing my hands:

Old Man in Dark Suit: Lovely party the other night.
Older Man in Dark Suit: Thank you. We were glad you could make it.
Old Man: Thanks for having us.
Older Man: I was as Punch Sulzberger's 82nd birthday party last night.
Old Man: Were you? How was it? I know it's been hard.
Older Man: Oh, it was great. He's doing fine.
Old Man: Is he? I must go see him.
Older Man: You should. Give him a call. Wish him a happy 82!
Old Man: I'll do. I'll do.

Some Stuff That's Frustrating

That Karl Fischer building on Luquer Street that I've hated since I saw the rendering keeps getting bigger.

Schnack is closing and we ain't surprised. I'm not happy about it, but the place has been deserted of customers for months, and any restaurant that loses its liquor license and doesn't seem to mind isn't going to last long. Another bad sign for rosy future predicted for Red Hook simply isn't gonna happen.

Kellogg's Diner, which to me has always said "unironic Williamsburg," is soon to be defiled.

Neighborhood Roots

In a City that can't figure out a way to preserve landmark businesses like Katz's or Chumley's, I suppose it's too much to ask for special trees to gain protection.

But if she ever do come up with some sort of landmarking program for trees, I nominate this singular specimen on Kane Street near Court. I'm no good at judging the age of trees, but judging by the thick, gnarled bark, twisted roots and coat of moss and trunk-covering vines, I'd say it dates back to at least Model T times. The plant adds considerable beauty and character to the block. It's spider-web of branches trace infinite designs upon the sky, and the enormously powerful roots take no guff from the neighboring bluestone, pushing it up all around at severe angles. It's a wonder it hasn't been trimmed back; somebody must be looking out for it.

My Shuttle in the Woods

I had a thoroughly disorienting experience yesterday. I was rushing to catch the Times Square shuttle, and as I leaped into the lead car, I suddenly and strangely found myself suffused with a cozy, cabin-in-the-woods feeling. Every square inch of the subway car's walls were covered with wood paneling. I blinked a couple times and realized it was just wallpaper made to look like wood. No one else seemed fazed, but I couldn't stop staring. I tell you, it transformed the very vibe of the compartment. Those clean off-white, plastic walls were used to deaden your senses and somehow depress a person. This faux wood treatment made me oddly happy. I thought I might be served pancakes with syrup at any moment.

I quizzed the conductor when we reached Grand Central. He was the whole papering job was one big advertisement and had just been put in last week. He mentioned the company twice, but I didn't recognize it, plus his pronunciation was garbled. Anyway, I complimented him of the cozy feeling it gave me, and said they should think about wood siding as a permanent thing. "Really?" he said. "That's good to hear. Another guy told me it made him claustrophobic."

Did I Say $6,000? I Meant $43,000!

Wondering how little the landlord who owns Florent's building deserved a present from Santa? This little: He wants $43,000 a month in rent. That's up from, um, $6,018. This is why I've always put landlords at the bottom of the occupational food chain; they cavalierly and greedily fuck around with basic human rights: shelter and livelihood.

Owner Florent Morellet, suing the landlord, but what honestly can he do but forestall the inevitable? According to the Observer acticle, "He doesn’t fault the landlord for trying to cash in. `Until we, as New Yorkers, decide to pass laws to have rent control commercially, landlords should be able to charge what they want,' he said." Or, here's another take on the situation that doesn't give scumlords a pass on ethics: Until we, as New Yorkers, decide to pass laws to have rent control commercially, landlords should make a concerted effort regulate their own business principles according a shared societal creed of fairness.

Sorry Rev, The City Don't Care About Them Bones

Rev. Dr. Donna Schaper, minister at the Judson Church, is shocked—shocked—that the City Parks Department is not caring better for the human bones being uncovered by the unpopular renovation of Washington Square Park.

"I don’t take the word ‘desecration’ lightly, but that is what is happening here," she told Metro. "They should stop disturbing the dead. The city is disrespecting the community again." Well, yes, and yes, Rev. But are you surprised? What City agency that has anything to do with real estate town has recently shown respect for the people's will? None I know of. Certainly not the Parks Dept., which thinks we need a KFC or something at Red Hook Park, and supports the for-commerce parading of stupid pet tricks at Bryant Park.

Jonathan Greenberg, who has fought the city’s plan with two lawsuits, noted that, regarding the skeletons, "There was no sifting of sand, no photographs being taken, no archaeologist looking at soil." And there ain't gonna be, dude! Those bones can't vote! And they're messy and nasty and old and don't fit in with Bloomberg's neato vision of the City.

Now, if we could broker a deal with Cemusa to create some sleek-looking, "street furniture" graves and crypts—now we're talking! That's the kind of respect for the dead that City Hall can get behind!

Some Stuff That's Interesting

Somebody made the Carroll Street F Stop just that much nicer.

The carousel underground is abuzz with news about the old B&B Carousel.

Bloomberg doesn't do Brooklyn. Like we didn't know that.

Responding to recent construction deaths, the Department of Building "would require that safety managers be present at all buildings at least 10 stories, or 150 feet, high." Gosh, that's seems really stringent.

You can build over Manhattan's streams but you can't kill them.

The East Village institution Veselka is expanding.

Trees need to be free.

So That's It

I sensed something was up with the Brooklyn Trader Joe's deal, when week after week brought no activity inside the old Independence Bank at Atlantic and Court. Now, Brownstoner reports, via Cobble Hill Blog, that the whole deal between TJ and landlord Two Trees has gone south.

A representative for Two Trees, however, says the chatter is a lot of hooey, and that the store will eventually open. "The rumor is, well, just a rumor," says the rep. No word, however, on when TJ’s is actually going to set up shop.

And Marty Markowitz went to all the bother of leading a parade down Court Street and everything!

Other Super Ideas for Our City's Future Greatness!

That article about Nathan's Famous in Coney Island being rezoned so that they could plant a big 'ol 14-story highrise on the site—such a GREAT idea—got me thinking of other ways the Department of City Planning and all their swell little builder-boy friends could improve this old town, which, let's face it, is just soooo dirty and ugly and just much too OLD! Gosh, I hope they're reading this. These ideas deserved serious consideration.

*Add 12 stories to the top of the "21" Club and rename it the "84" Club—four times better!—and put a really big jockey on the roof. You know, like a fancy Bob's Big Boy statue?

*Make the Four Seasons restaurant just One Season—Summer!—because nobody really likes the other ones, and, anyway, with Global Warming, we really don't even have winter and fall anymore. In keeping with the theme, make the pool in the Pool Room a working hot tub, to which memberships can be purchased.

*Erect a permanent catwalk down the center of Bryant Park with supermodels sauntering down it 24/7.

*Create a monorail that encircles Times Square—Manhattan's own Loop, Chicago-style!—with stops only at Virgin Megastore, Toys 'R' Us, Planet Hollywood, Madame Tussaud's, Ripley's Believe It or Not!, Applebee's, Chevy's, the Marriott Marquis and Olive Garden! Less walking and cleaner sneakers for all tourists.

*Take a page from Las Vegas and erect thematic midtown hotels that eliminate the need to visit and explore other famous neighborhoods. Upper West Side Inn. Lower East Side Lodge. East Village Villa. The Brooklyn. Marty Markowitz can be hired as a greeter at the latter, after he leaves office.

*Tiered Shakespeare at the Delacorte Theatre, based on income. The poor folks who can't pay anything will see a Juilliard version of "Midsummer Night's Dream," while paying attendees will get to view a star-laden production of a different Bard work, and gold ticket holders get into a one-night-only July 4 presentation of, say, Sean Combs' Hamlet.

*Shut down original Carnegie, Stage and Katz's delis and bunch them together in a kind of Riese-like food mall called "Deli Land," located where the Times Square Howard Johnson's used to be.

*Move Macy's into the new Penn Station, Bloomingdale's into the old Yankee Stadium, Sak's into the New York Stock Exchange and Barney's to Governor's Island, because change it good.

*Make Gracie Mansion a bed and breakfast.

Why Change What's Perfect?

The blogs yesterday were afire with news that one hidden part of the City's rezoning package for Coney Island would all the two-story Nathan's hot dog pavillion to be converted into a 14-story tower, if the owners of the frankfurter joint so wish.

This seems like a really lousy idea. I mean, why even open that Pandora's Box? Nathan's is a near perfect icon of commerce, neon and classic Coney Island fun. In fact, it's one of the last things in Coney Island which speaks with vibrant energy of the playland the place once was. The building's been there since 1912 and I'd be surprised if the huge signs that paper the building are much younger. The whole structure gets you jazzed just to look at it.

The owner of Nathan's said that, for the time, the company has no plans for expansion. But it's hard for people to resist development bucks these days. Why did the City even open the door?

Who Will Save the Signs?

The plans for what it arguably Brooklyn's most high-profile condo complex, the one that will convert the old Domino Sugar Plant in Williamsburg into a conclave of happy shiny people, will not include the iconic "Domino Sugar" sign, the NY Sun reports. Not that anybody really thought it would. Developers aren't typically as whimsical and sentimental as the rest of us, and wouldn't see how such a thing would add value. But there was a little hope.

Which leads me to a perennial worry of mine: as the City goes through its current transformation from iconoclastic patchwork to developer's tinkertown, what's to become of the signs that once proclaimed "One guy with a particular idea does business here?" The matter is never discussed by the builders, who obviously see the neon placards as just another piece of junk to be disposed of, and not the relics and urban artwork of another New York. Last we saw of the McHale's sign, it was in the window of some antique store; Lord knows where it landed. The owner of Gertel's nabbed his own sign for himself and hung it up over his wholesale concern in Brooklyn, thank God. But how often can we count on businesspeople to value their old signage?

Along with the Domino sign, other priceless signs whose fate we should be worrying about include the P & G Bar and the Jade Mountain "Chow Mein" sign (still hanging on Second Avenue, last I checked). Really, shouldn't the Met or the Smithsonian get involved? Surely some curators can see artistry and historical value in these metal-glass-and-neon creations.

On another note, I was recently relieved to see that the Old Town Bar sign was finally back in place, newly bulbed-up.

Queens Temple Goes to a Vote Feb. 12

Feb. 12, next Tuesday, will be judgment day for Congregation Tifereth Isreal, a temple at 109-20 54TH Avenue, Queens. The synagogue had its case for preservation heard on Jan. 15, and next week the Landmarks Commission will vote on its candidancy.

If it passes muster, Tifereth Isreal will be the first Queens landmark to be so honored. As previously noted, it was built in 1911 in Corona, and it very much resembles the kind of synagogues one finds on the Lower East Side. It serves about 50 Bukharian Jewish families. It's already on the National and New York State Register of Historic Places.

Speaking of which, when is the Landmarks Commission going to list the items on the agenda at its upcoming Feb. 12 meeting? It's only 8 days away, boys.

Dept. of City Planning Obdurate, Arrogant, Dismissive

OK, the above is just my opinion. But anyone who can bring me evidence that, in its attitude toward the many-months-long Carroll Gardens movement to downsize the neighborhood's zoning, the DOCP has acted in any way other than that of stubborn, stonewalling jerks, I'd like to hear it.

Carroll Gardeners had a well-publicized rally at Borough Hall last week, where Councilman Bill de Blasio announced that Planning had agreed to consider downzoning the neighborhood. Very nice, except a department rep told The Brooklyn Paper that they "are unable to commit to a precise timeframe" for a downzoning study—the same line the office has been spreading for months. Brooklyn Paper also reported (via Brownstoner), that "the city also said that that the Councilman’s bid for a moratorium on all new buildings over 50 feet wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, because it would require an extensive environmental review."

To which everyone with a politically savvy mind should respond: bullshit! The DOCP, like the DOB, like any City agency, can do anything it wants to, and will. All it takes is for the right person to make the phone call to get the staff from keeping the issue in idle. Right now, they don't want to do it because they don't care, and nobody upstairs has told them to care. Or perhaps, influential folks on the outside have instructed them not to care, to move slowly, to cry "back-upped scheduled" and "staff shortages." Any item can be moved to the head of the list, and logic would have dictated that the Carroll Gardens downsizing should have received a promotion eons ago.

Sometimes you wonder why things have to be this way. And then you find out who's in charge. The DOCP, as anyone who follows the real estate scene in NYC, is headed by the appropriately named Amanda M. Burden, who, as the daughter of socialite Babe Paley and her first husband, Stanley Grafton Mortimer, Jr., an heir to the Standard Oil fortune, and a descendant of U.S. Supreme Court Justice, understands the need of the people very well. AND her first husband was Shirley Carter Burden Jr., a multimillionaire descendant of Commodore Vanderbilt, while her second husband was Steven J. Ross, the head of Warner Communications. She's also dated Charlie Rose.

Holy Crap!! Why do rich folks have to run out lives? It's enough to make wish for the return of Tammany Hall, when an Lower East Side bartender could become a City bigwif. With a blue blood like that in charge, is it any wonder Burden has precious little concerns for a bunch of noisy Brooklynites?

The Crossdresser on the Ceiling

On the ceiling of the lobby AMC Empire 25 cineplex on 42nd Street is a mural of surprising artistry for a movie house. It depicts three muses in cascading gowns dancing about in a vaguely Greek setting. Hardly cinematic. More theatrical, and so it is. The mural was originally painted to sit above the proscenium of the Eltinge Theatre. The Eltinge, built in 1912, is the handsome box in which the Empire lives. The theatre once sat a couple hundred feet east, but was rolled down Broadway to its current spot in 2000 when it became a movie theatre.

If the women in the mural looks a bit odd to you, you've got a sharp eye. It's believed that all three are meant to depict the namesake of the Eltinge Theatre—Julian Eltinge, one of the greatest female impersonators of the 20th Century, and the only such artist to ever have a Broadway theatre named after him.

Eltinge was popular in his time in a way that can hardly be imagined today. His thing was that he didn't ape the ways of women, but rather performed so convincingly he presented the illusion of being a woman. He gave a special performance for King Edward VII, and was so well known that he launched his own publication, Eltinge Magazine—the Oprah Magazine of its time—that, with depthless impudence, advised woman on matters of beauty, fashion, and home tips. Dorothy Parker wrote a poem about him. W.C. Fields commented, "Women went into ecstasies over him. Men went into the smoking room." Eltinge himself quipped, "My life is one close shave after another."

Of course, Eltinge is completely forgotten today. If you go up to the fifth floor of the theatre, you'll see a glancing tribute to him. An outdoor balcony bears a small sign saying "Eltinge Terrace."

The Winter of Our Discontent

Another season, another rank disappointment.

February creeped into town last week on little Spring paws and settled on its haunches, looking and feeling pretty much the way January did: temperate, mildly chilly, unimpressive, lacking in seasonal character, and snowless, utterly snowless.

Is it fair that an autumn as limp and formless as just passed should be followed by a winter as worthless on all terms by which we traditionally rank winter? The last, and only, snowy day of the season was, by my memory, back on Dec. 2 or thereabouts. Since then, a long string a drab days of no distinction. Every ten days or so, wishful-thinking meteorologists predict a show shower, always erroneously. Meanwhile, the simple-minded anchormen and women commend them on the great beach weather they've delivered.

It's enough to make you move to Vermont or Upper Michigan, just drive north until you see a drift. My shovel has seen no action this winter. My son has given up on his dreams of a snowball fight. My trips to the skating rink feel somehow dishonest. Weather should have poetry. Seasons should create natural demarcations in our lives. We currently exist in a "No Exit" kind of climate, in which one day, one week, one month is much like another, causing a sensory numbness sets in. If the darkness and coldness of winter engenders depression in many souls, as the sociologists insist, then I believe the absense of winter-like conditions during winter create a different sort of unsettling.

Some weather reports call for snow tomorrow. If I'm wrong, hurrah! Otherwise, I say: Ha!

UPDATE: Perhaps the Gods heard my plaintive cry last night. This Monday morning, fluffy flakes the size of quarters are coming down steady.

FURTHER UPDATE: Ah, well. It didn't stick. Doesn't stick, doesn't count.