Gershwin, Schmershwin. Sing Me a Scheffel!

What is Scheffel Hall, the striking German Renaissance building on Third Avenue near 17th Street? And what does "Allaire's" mean?

Well, two questions, two answers. Scheffel Hall was a beer hall named after German balladeer Joseph Victor von Scheffel, of whom I'm sure you've all heard. The East Village, remember, was chock-a-block with our German brothers back in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It was modeled by the architects after the Friedrichsbau at Heidelberg Castle, I have learned. The interior was covered with murals based on Scheffel's once-famous songs (or, still-famous songs in Germany, perhaps), if you can believe it. What a big noise old Joseph Victor musta been back in his day.

As for the confusing second name, Allaire's, 190 Third Avenue was that, too. Allaire's was a restaurant. In 1909, O. Henry set one of his short story's here, describing it as a "big hall with its smokey rafters, row of imported steins, portrait of Goethe, and verses painted on the walls." During World War I, German spies congregated there and plotted away. Tammany leader Charles Murphy, apparently holding no grudges against either side in The Great War, also held court there. It was later Joe King's Rathskeller, a business which, thankfully, didn't put its name on the facade for good.

After Joe King got out 1969, it became Fat Tuesday's, a premier jazz joint of its days, best known for hosting regular Monday-night gigs by Les Paul. Also playing here: Dexter Gordon, Betty Carter, Joe Henderson, McCoy Tyner, Gerry Mulligan, Kenny Barron and many more.

In short, a lot of interesting shit went down at Scheffel Hall!

She Doesn't Even Live Here

An interesting sentence deep within the New York Times' farewell piece to Florent, the timeless Meatpacking District diner that closed for good on Sunday:

Speculation about what would happen to the space next was put to rest, more or less, late last week with the surprising news that the owner, Joanne Lucas, planned to open a diner in the coming days. Ms. Lucas, in an interview from her home in New England, said she had turned down handsome rent offers, and had concluded that she did not have the heart to part with it. The diner, which has been in her family since 1955, would revert to its former name, the R & L Restaurant, and she said she planned to hire some of Florent’s workers.

"From her home in New England"! She doesn't even live here! No wonder she could so blithely shut the place down.

People who own property here should live here. If you're going to play Monopoly with the community, you should at least be part of the community.

Telltale Signs That Your Child Will Grow Up to Be a Landlord

*They charge their friends a quarter an hour to play with their toys.

*Sleepover guests must arrive equipped with their own bed, bedding and foodstuffs for dinner and breakfast.

*Takes out a library card under the name of a shell corporation.

*Charges 50 cents more for their lemonade than kids at other stands do, due to "rising cooling costs."

*Complains about the unions that make Lincoln Logs and Legos as being hopelessly corrupt.

*Favorite scene from literature is when Tom Sawyer tricks others into whitewashing his aunt's picket fence.

*Gets cranky and moody when you visit Grandma in her rent-controlled three-bedroom in a Pre-War on the Upper West Side.

*Keeps asking you when you're going to stop renting and buy a home.

*Knows how to use the word "flip" in a sentence.

*Picks out birthday presents for his friends' birthday parties only after estimating the worth of forthcoming "birthday bag."

*Gripes that the student government at his elementary school ties up kids with unnecessary red tape and discourages the entrepreneur.

From 12th Street to Atlantic Avenue

Last week, I posted an item about a new used book store coming to Brooklyn's Atlantic Avenue.

The other day, I learned that the new store is actually not that new. The proprietor wrote to say, "Saw your blog and I wanted to let you know that it's indeed true. We have been 12th Street Books in Manhattan for 10 years and will hopefully open in early august as Atlantic Books. Thanks for posting the news!"

So, Manhattan's loss is Brooklyn's gain. It usually is.

Joanne Lucas: A Landlord's Landlord

Tonight, the iconic Meatpacking District diner Florent will close its doors for good. But on Tuesday, when it reopens at the R & L Restaurant, it will have the same decor, mostly the same menu and all the same staff members. Everything except beloved owner Florent Morellet.

This was the big news at Eater.com and the other food blogs last week. Back in January, inviting months and months of drama, landlord Joanne Lucas made the unconscienceable decision to kick Florent out of his Gansevoort Street space after 23 neighborhood-transforming years, just so she might get pour some more jack in her pocketbook and help ruin the neighborhood in the process. Then, when no retail chains turned up with the dough she was looking for, Lucas turned around and decided to take the place away from Florent anyway and turn it back into the R & L Restaurant—the diner run by her father at that address, before Morellet arrived.

Everyone was generally stunned by this turn of events. Some called Lucas the canniest landlord ever. Others looked on the bright side, noting that Florent would not completely vanish from the face of New York, since R & L would look and eat much the same as its predecessor.

Me? If I could cast Lucas howling into the flames of Hades, I would.

That landlords are perfidious beings, I know. That they best embody man's inherent inhumanity to man, I well believe. But I have encountered few examples of the profession's grasping, greedy, duplicitous, conniving, feral, amoral, atavistic, pre-ethical, cynical, underhanded tendencies as the heinous double-dealing—at the expense of Mr. Morellet's livelihood, the happiness of thousands of patrons, and the general cultural health of the City—of Ms. Joanne Lucas (may her name ever live in infamy). She rolled the dice for the hell of it, and Mr. Morellet lost his mission in life. Blood colder than hers no snake ever had.

When asked by Eater why Florent isn't involved in the new restaurant, Lucas responded, "Florent from what I understand is moving on to a new chapter in his life." Yes, Bitch: Because you forced that chapter on his ass by kicking him to the curb!

Florent himself struck a more generous note: "I'm not totally surprised. There's something very special about this neighborhood in the Meatpacking District...the property has been in the family with Joanne for three generations and they have an emotional relationship with the building. I was curious to see what would happen when push came to shove with Joanne when the big bucks came to the door. It would have meant tearing down the inside...This was not a decision based on capitalism."

I am not as forgiving as Mr. Morellet. I wish Lucas nothing good. I love the space, I love its history, but may she never have a day of luck with it. May the pipes burst every winter and the air-conditioning break every summer. May the DOH shut R & L down every month. May Florent's customer base abandon her. May her home in the City be infested by bedbugs and her summer house be swallowed by the ocean. And may the New York Times, New York magazine and Gourmet—having been suckered into granted Florent's lengthy tributes based on its fading into the sunset—never bestow upon R & L a drop of ink.

A Good Sign: Elliott Pharmacy

"Over 1,000,000 Prescriptions Filled." "Superbuy." "Ethical Apothecary." This Third Avenue store's got phraseology to burn. And for added interest: the shop's name is spelled two different ways: Elliott and Elliot.

Lost City Asks "Who Goes to Rocco Restaurant?"

Rocco Restaurant is a sleepy presence on a bustling block of Thompson Street that features the ever-crowded Tomoe Sushi and Lupa. Rocco is never that busy, but it doesn't seem to care. It has its following and its been around a lot longer than any other restaurant on the street. I imagine it figures it will still be around when those other eateries go.

Rocco was not a culinary revelation the way previous Who Goes There? subject like Chez Napoleon were. The food was about as mediocre as I expected. (I have heard that under the original owners, the food was fantastic. Sigh. I will never know for sure.) It was more the atmosphere I relished. A lazy air when it was possible to lead a lazy existence in the Village.

The Strangest Building in Downtown Brooklyn

The dingy stretch of Court Street running through downtown Brooklyn is rich with architectural weirdness—much of it none too savory—but 93 Court Street takes the cake in my book. What's this narrow Tudor manor straight out of Stratford-upon-Avon doing next to Bruno Hardware, lending shelter to a grimy deli and bail bondsman? The building's details render it even more out-of-context than it already is: a steeply pitched, shingled roof, a slender chimney climbing to the sky, a small, leaded-glass window near the top, some half-timbering and a coat of arms.

I've always been tempted to credit the building to a vulgar developer with some grand ideas about himself. So I was somewhat stunned when I learned that the rather absurd little building was the work of actual accredited architects who chose the design for their working headquarters. Architects Samuel Malkind and Martyn Weinstein built it in 1927. The "M" and "W" in the coat of arms are their initials. The below photo, printed when the New York Times did a study of the building a few years back, reveals the the effect was much more splendid back in the day.

But I still don't get it. In the 1920s, the heyday of Art Deco, this sort of twee affair is what Malkind and Weinstein thought would attract clients? Don't get me wrong—I like the building—but even back then it must have seemed horribly old-fashioned and fuddy-duddy-ish.

Anyway, the two only stayed in partnership for two years after the building was complete, leaving 93 Court Street to be occupied by lesser business concerns for the next 78 years.

Atlantic Avenue Reveal

Breaking some sort of land speed record, Two Trees has removed all the scaffolding and crap from in front of that luxury rental complex they've been building on Atlantic Avenue. The unobstructed view reveals that the thing is basically completed. Took 'em about six months to do it. PDQ, as they say. (Work on Trader Joe's next door, meanwhile, remains the tortoise to this hare.)

It doesn't look absolutely terrible. The brick color is somewhat in keeping with the neighborhood. It's very window-y. The bands of vertical glass give the structure a modicum of style you don't see in most new residential units. Keep in mind, however, that these mildly positive comments do not erase the fact that this is basically crapitecture. Which it is. I understand some merry little bulkheads are on the way.

A Good Sign: Blue Box/Red Box Truck

OK, I know this isn't a sign, but the side and back of a truck, but I'm sorry: the Blue Box and Red Box tape logos are such a study in awesomeness, I feel they merit the bending of a rule or two. The graphics for this product are so simple yet stylish my eyes start to dance whenever I see them. This is the sort of design that is so durable, so evergreen, you never need to change the look of the product. The success of the look is all the more remarkable because it's in service of such unglamorous products: gummed tape, and reinforced gummed tape. Did Andy Warhol ever paint these? If not, he missed a golden opportunity.

Welcome to Third Avenue. Now Drink!

I like Third Avenue in the 20s. For whatever reason, the area has not been much built up in the real estate boom of the last decade. It's still low scale and feels very New York, a jumble of humble and homely businesses. And bars. Every neighborhood in New York has its contingent of Irish pubs. But on this stretch of Third Avenue, you won't be troubled with walking more than a block to find one. And that's on both sides of the streets, too! East side, West side, Guinness is on tap. That way, if you have an argument with the bartender, you can always take your business across the street!

Here are a few of said bars. Paddy McGuire's seems to be in a year-round Yuletide mood. Plug Uglies, named after a vicious 19th-century gang, is a "drinking establishment." Ironically, it's a hangout for cops. The Copper Door Tavern has, yes, a copper door, and has some competition directly next door in the form of the Black Bear Lodge. Molly's is going form the croft house look; there's a fireplace inside. I'm guessing this strip is jumping on St. Patrick's Day.

A Good Sign: Warshaw Hardware

Hardware stores seem to be among the most tenacious of Manhattan's older business concerns. Warshaw Hardware on Third Avenue and 20th Street has been hanging on since 1928, the year before the Crash.

Never Closed and Better, Too

There's much to provoke the curiosity in the strangeness that is M.T. Food Inc. of Third Avenue in Manhattan. Firstly, there's the crudely bold sign, with its huge M. and T., signifying we know not what. Then there's the idea that what is essentially a small deli needs to put a ponderous "Inc." at the end of its name. And don't overlook the clock which boasts "Never Closed." This may explain why the clock face had no hands (if the store doesn't close, who cares what time it is?), but it doesn't explain why the "12" on the clock has been replaced by an "S" (for "Sunrise" and "Sunset"?).

But this is all next to nothing when one ventures inside and see the walls are lined with framed pictures of famous people. This in itself is nothing special; many New York stores have such pictures, usually signed, with some accompanying sentiment of good wishes. These photos are not signed. And each one is adorned with the same gold plaque, reading "Better." Andy Warhol, Louis Armstrong, Elvis Presley, Steve McQueen, Peter O'Toole, JFK—dozens of pictures of the greatest achievers in every field of endeavor. All "Better."

Better? Better than what? I asked the workers gathered at the cash resister. "They're better. You're best," said one man. Huh? He explained that the previous owner of M.T. hung them up and the customer-flattering joke is these great personalities were "better," but whoever was looking at them—and buying goods at M.T.—was "best." At least that's the way I understood it.

In a City of eccentric shops and shopkeepers, this display is truly one of the most exceptionally weird phenomena I had ever encountered.

A Good Sign: Joe Junior Restaurant

Great old diner at the corner of Third Avenue and 16th Street. Not sure of its birthdate, but based on the class "Steaks Chops Seafood" line, I'd have to say it dates at least to the 1950s. The happy kid licking his chops makes it.

No One Here, Not Even Us Chickens

This poultry slaughtering plant on Union Street near Columbia in Brooklyn has been there for a long time (check out the sign). I'm so used to the thing that I haven't really taken a close look at it in years. (And who would want to take a close look at a slaughterhouse anyway?) But I did the other day, attracted by the For Sale sign, as well as evidence that there were bushes growing inside.

Whaddaya know? At some point, someone gutted this building, leaving only the facade and white tile walls on either side. No roof, no inner walls, no nothing. And it must have happened a while back since nature has had a chance reclaim sections of the ground, shooting up through cracks in the cement. I guess when a structure's been bathed in bird blood for decades, you pretty much have to set off a construction atom bomb inside if you're gonna convert it to any other use.

Not What You Usually See

This blog usually thinks of Duane Reade as one of 21st-century New York's Visigoths, trampling history underfoot as the company erects more and more megastores. But this old remnant of a sign, near Chambers Street downtown, reminds us that even today's chains can go the way of the dinosaur. Also, that Duane Reade has been around since 1960. Hm. I feel so much more warmly toward a dead Duane Reade than I do a live one.

Book Store Coming to Atlantic Avenue

Bank of America coming to Atlantic Avenue. Trader Joe's coming to Atlantic Avenue. Dunkin' Donuts coming to Atlantic Avenue. These are all statements that make sense in today's Brooklyn—the kind of news we've gotten used to.

But Used and Rare Book Store coming to Atlantic Avenue? That's a little unexpected. But that's what the little handwritten sign in the window at 179 Atlantic says. And I couldn't be happier if it turns out to be true. The strip needs such a business. The closest used book stores are on Montague deep in Brooklyn Heights and over on Columbia across from the docks.

Why Must There be an IKEA Truck?

I'm beginning to feel assaulted by the tidal wave of IKEA advertising. The bus shelter ads. The billboards. That bizarre assemblage of boxes on Houston and Broadway. And now this rolling, house-like advertisement, which blocked my view on Court Street the other day. You can't see the message on the roof (actually it's hard to read, period), but it says something about how you can buy the living room set in that glass box for $1,200 and change. It's the most trite assemblage of processed crapiture you'd ever want to see. I wouldn't spend $12 for it.

The Signs You See on the Way to JFK

Never mind your dirty carpets and foreclosure worries! The sign to pay attention to is the one in the middle: "Coconut Water. For Every Occasion." Every occasion. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Funerals. For drinking. For bathing. To wash dishes or clothing. To water your lawn. OR, to clean those carpets and upholstery!

I'm afraid, however, coconut water won't help you with your foreclosure problems.

New Shades of Arturo's

The new awnings at the 51-year-old Arturo's pizzeria look pretty sharp. But there's something to be said for the character of the older specimens (below). At least they kept true to the color scheme. And they didn't touch the hand-painted lettering in the windows.

The Village Gate Sign Is Alive and Well

The nicest thing the CVS pharmacy chain ever did is not take down the old Village Gate sign from this Greenwich Village corner of Thompson and Bleecker Street. Art D'Lugoff famed club, opened in 1958, hasn't been here at 158 Bleecker Street since 1993. And it's unclear of the theatre that took its place, the Village Theatre, is still in operation.

Some Stuff That's Interesting

Plans for the Cheyenne Diner's relocation to Red Hook are coming together.

The MTA sucks, as usual.

AMNY's Ten Ugliest Buildings in NYC. I've could have come up with a list of 100 in under 10 minutes.

A developer of South Street Seaport wants to make one of AMNY's future lists.

An old library in Bed-Stuy reopened after a $2 million renovation.

Remembering Hamberger

As the clock ticks down on the life of the Hamberger Christmas display factory on Warren and Hicks Street, I thought—before it's converted into rubble to make room for more condos—it would be a good idea to take a moment and contemplate what will be lost. Helping me in this is a good friend who lives near the building and, due to her attachment to the old factory, has sleuthed out various facts about the address' long history.

Most of us know the red-brick edifice at the former producer of mechanized elves and bunnies that animate holiday window displays. It was founded in 1922 by David Hamberger. The Hamberger family employed many people from the neighborhood; a few of the descendants of these employees actually still reside on the block today.

Prior to the Hamberger days, however, is was the gymnasium for St.Peters Church on Hicks Street, which was built by prolific church architect Patrick Charles Keely. Rumor has it that The New York Knicks practiced in the gym prior to becoming an NBA team. It was also, at one time, a recreation destination called the Brooklyn Lyceum, where dances were held. Our amateur historian encountered one lady who said she met her husband at such a dance. Brownstones used to stand on either side of the building, but they were torn down in 1942 to prepare for the BQE.

Hamberger sold out in the early '90s to Center Stage Productions and moved out of Brooklyn. He's still alive and well today in Queens. I found a couple of photos of the company's handiwork below.

Terrapins and Terns

As part of my long-term scheme to visit and explore every part of New York City, I recently accepted an invitation to canoe around the Jamaica Bay, the protected lagoon down by JFK airport that most people don't know exists. Since a good chunk of these wetlands are lost every year, the area neatly dovetails with the general mission of Lost City.

The water isn't what you'd call pure. It has a brackish smell, which may emanate from sewage or dead organic matter, or both. But one gets uses to it after a bit. There were a lot of fishermen on the shore. Fishing for what, I can't imagine. The water never gets terribly deep and the various shores and isles are choked with grasses and reeds. Waterfowl are abundant. Hawks, seagulls, terns, sandpipers, geese, swans, ducks, cranes, herons and some others I couldn't identify. And terrapins! At first I said it was a turtle, until I saw a sign saying the area was a terrapin nesting ground. So, terrapins! And Parks Department terrapin-watch people, who roam around looking for terrapins. (We pointing them in the right direction.) And some freaky looking Horseshoe Crabs, which couldn't look more prehistoric. Plenty of dead crabs on the shore as well, the shells resembling World War I helmets.

The snaky little trails that run through the marshland are fun to explore, and occasionally you find the spooky hulk of an abandoned boat. You wouldn't expect to find cacti in New York, but some Prickly Pear were in evidence. It rained about halfway through our trip, which made the canoeing all the more exciting.

Southside Goes South

The Southside Cafe on W. 47th Street appears to have suddenly folded. The interior has been swept clean of furniture, pictures and wine. No sign was posted in the window saying it had closed, but no one answers the phone. The 14-year-old old, hole-in-the-wall Italian eatery was a favorite secret of theatregoers. It dependably furnished an affordable and good meal in an intimate, unpretentious environment.

I asked a couple of the Southside's neighbors what had happened, and they seemed as stunned as I by the closure. They didn't know the restaurant had shuttered.

The Southside was no landmark, but Times Square has lost another affordable, independent restaurant. And that's not good.

A Stormy Day

I took this shot at the corner of 27th and Lexington on Monday night, just before a heavy downpour commenced.

No Room for La Cote Basque in Benoit-Land

For years after the legendary French restaurant La Cote Basque went out of business, the small, cursive neon sign for the eatery remained on the side wall of 55th Street space, reminded all passersby of what was lost. It stayed there during the life of Brasserie La Côte Basque, the restaurant's descendant. But there appears to be no room for the memory of the La Cote Basque of Henri Soule and Truman Capote fame in the Benoit of Alain Ducasse. The sign has finally come down and has been replace by a Benoit sign. I hear Benoit is an excellent restaurant. Still, sigh.

Hallo Beijing?

The best food cart in the City, bar none, is also the only one to boast a Luftansa umbrella. It's the Hallo Berlin vendor at 54th and Fifth Avenue, the outdoor outpost of the German food Manhattan mini-chain run by Rolf Babiel and his brother Wolfgang. From this cart, which always inspires a long line of patient New Yorkers and tourists around lunch time, a wide variety of beef, veal and pork wurst can be had (knock-, brat-, alpen-, etc.), as well as superb sauerkraut, goulash, and fried potatoes. Two vendors, who—if they aren't the Babiels themselves, must be from central casting over at Actors' Equity, so utterly German are they—cheerfully serve up the grub, chirping "10 dollar!" and "8 dollar!" and "No ketchup here. Mustard." and "Only for you. For nobody else." The cart is the most orderly and pristine I have ever spied in New York City.

As I was waiting for my Fifth Avenue Special recently (two wursts, chopped up, mixed with potatoes, cabbage and onions), I heard the head vendor talk about how all the world wanted him and his food and he wouldn't be at the corner forever. I didn't completely get the gist of his meaning, but the general idea is that the cart was wanted elsewhere across the globe and he was going on a world tour. He would sell sausage in Beijing for the coming Olympics. From there he would go to Rio de Janiero for a spell. The upshot was we would be without the cart for a number of months, but he would eventually return. From the unsmiling look on the face of Hallo Berlin's neighboring hot dog vendor (not much business there), he would be perhaps the only New Yorker who would be glad to see the Babiels take a vacation.

The Worm Certainly Has Turned

Not only the New York Times, but the New York Post has turned against the former media darling Mayor Bloomberg. In a startling cover story today, the Post's Frederic U. Dicker reports that Gov. David Paterson broadly criticized the Mayor in private as "a nasty, untrustworthy, tan trum-prone liar who 'has little use' for average New Yorkers - like the 1,500 workers who would have lost their jobs had OTB closed.

Paterson has quickly turned into Bloomberg's worst nightmare, opposing Mike on matters such as the fate of Penn Station. Unlike Spitzer—a hotheaded rich guy, just like our Mayor—Paterson sees Bloomberg for what he is. If this renewed vigilance on the press' part keeps up, perhaps we can save the state from a Bloomberg governorship or save the country from a Bloomberg Vice-Presidency.

Here are some hightlights:

"His presidential thing didn't work out, term limits is looming to force him out, he's waiting and waiting to be asked to be vice president, congestion pricing didn't happen, he lost teacher tenure, the Jets stadium, and OTB isn't going the way he wants it." ...

"It's obvious that Bloomberg has little use for the kind of people who come from Queens and Staten Island, so how is he going to approach the people of Oswego and Lewis counties and Buffalo?" he asked.

"The people of New York City may be OK with the mayor taking off and flying to his private home in Bermuda every weekend, but if he did that at the state level, I think the people would send him a different message." ...

He told friends he believes Bloomberg, a billionaire, isn't getting honest advice from his staff "because they're all afraid of him and his wealth."

And he said council members have repeatedly refused to stand up to the mayor because "he's bought most of them off."

Unsurprisingly, Paterson has told reporters he didn't say those thing. Unsurprisingly, he's not going to ask for a retraction, for very convoluted reasons that I don't quite understand.

Small and Proud

I find this building at 203 W. 82nd Street in Manhattan an intriguing curiosity. It was evidently erected in 1899, and with great pride, if the vainglorious, quasi-cupola at the top is any indication. And it has somehow survived 100-plus years in a highly desirable neighborhood to currently house Fang Cleaners and an antique shop. I'm guessing is was a carriage house, owing to its squat nature. Can't find out much about it, except that, according to the DOB, there was a request for a electrical sign back in 1930. So some sort of change was going on. It's also apparently part of a landmark district, which may explain its longevity.

New Hope for P & G Cafe

I was soaking up some beer and some old-New-York, late-night atmosphere at the doomed Upper West Side water hole known as the P & G Cafe the other night when I heard some hopeful news regarding the place. As has been reported here and elsewhere, P & G's landlord has been hounding the 66-year-old tavern for a couple years news, and has set its get-out day for New Year's Eve, 2008. Anyone who visits the place knows that the clock is ticking on one of Manhattan's last great regular-bar bars.

But, as I gathered from the talk flying between myself, a couple regulars at the bar, and proprietor Steve Chahalis—a friendly bear of a man who has the build of a Hell's Angel and a taste in headbanger music to match—there is reason to hope. Steve was holding court behind the bar. No, the landlord hasn't changed his mind. In fact, it looks like a Baby Gap has emerged as the highest bidder on the corner space. But Steve is sanguine that P & G will rise again in another locality nearby.

He has been scouting out a variety of spaces and feels confident his family's bar will have a new home by years' end, with the old wooden bar and possibly the great neon sign going with him. Things have changed since the real estate market's gone soft and landlords are more willing to entertain Chahalis' queries. There was even talk of a long range plan to buy a building. Things appear to be so in P & G's favor that Chahalis is taking his time, waiting until he finds the right space with everything he's looking for (including an oval bar to replace the current one-sided item).

Needless to say, this all made me very happy—for Chahalis, for his dedicated patrons, for the City as a whole, for me. I will be crossing my finger for P & G until the end of the year.

45th Street's Mini-Restaurant Row Finally Coming Down?

It's been more than two years since the tiny, humble restaurants along the north side of W. 45th Street between Broadway and Eighth began folding one by one. Barrymore's, BAM! Sam's, BAM! Puleo's, BAM! And then they just sat there, boarded up, among the din of rumors that they had died that a coming hotel tower might live.

There were signs today that the low-slung building may soon finally bite the dust. The door to Barrymore's was open for the first time since the restaurant shuttered (see above). There were also openings in the shedding leading to the stoops of a couple of the buildings, with rat poison signs pasted on the doors of each—a sure sign of the coming end of a building. There were spray-painted squares on the buildings that I hadn't notice before. A few construction typed milled about, talking on cellphones and eating lunch.

An application to demolish Barrymore's was filed with the DOB back on Feb. 29. Ditto the other structures. Meanwhile, the nearby old-school steakhouse Frankie and Johnny's continues to mysteriously do business, having escaped the ax somehow.

That's Weird

A trash can with an attached ashtray. Outside the White Castle on Eighth Avenue near 36th. Don't think I've ever seen that particular design before. Seems like an invitation to a trash fire.

Also, Trader Joe's Wants Us Off Their Land!

Recently, I noticed that the upcoming Trader's Joe's in Brooklyn made it clear that it didn't want prols like me peeking in its old bank building while it worked on transforming the edifice into a cheery, hip grocery store. It did this by papering over the glass doorways. It has since emphasized its point by replacing the paper with plywood.

But there's more. The old Independence Bank has, as many will recall, three steps leading up to the front doors and ramps on the left and the right. These have now been cordoned off with yellow tape. So Trader Joe's doesn't want us to even to come near them! I considered for a moment that this development may be due to the fact that Brooklyn is awash with construction-obsessed citizens armed with cameras and too much curiosity. But I quickly dismissed the notion as absurd.

Stay tuned for a giant black box to be placed over the entire structure.

It's About Time

Robert M. Scarano, the opportunistic, scofflaw, robber baron who likes to masquerade under the lofty title architect, the bane of many New Yorker's existence, has finally been charged with something.

Reports City Room:

Administrative charges have been filed against Robert M. Scarano Jr., an architect who built his career during Brooklyn’s construction boom, saying that he made false or misleading statements on applications submitted to the Department of Buildings in connection with two projects in Greenpoint, the authorities announced on Thursday.

The administrative charges, which could result in the suspension or revocation of Mr. Scarano’s ability to file documents with the buildings department, involve documents for two Brooklyn apartment houses that Mr. Scarano filed with the department in 2000 and 2002. The building department and the city’s Investigation Department said in a joint statement:

Scarano is alleged to have improperly divided a zoning lot into two smaller lots for the two new buildings, 158 Freeman Street and 1037 Manhattan Avenue, resulting in the construction of two noncompliant buildings. With the two independent zoning lots, 158 Freeman Street could not have been legally built at all as a residential building and 1037 Manhattan Avenue as designed would have been smaller by approximately 2,000 square feet.

Scarano is being charged under a new state law which allows the buildings commissioner "to exclude licensed architects from filing applications for permits if they are found to have knowingly or negligently submitted false documents. Mr. Scarano may respond to the charges and present a defense to an administrative law judge at the Office of Administrative Tribunals and Hearings."

Yo! Check This Out! IKEA Rules!

Aside from the Swedish meatballs they serve in the cafeteria—a dish I dearly love—I'm not much looking forward to the coming debut of the Red Hook IKEA. And their bus shelter ads aren't helping my mood.

These assaults of amateur whismy may have been up for weeks, but this is the first I've noticed them. They're composed of unfolded IKEA cardboard boxes against a background of yellow. Written on the boxes are various colloquial, would-be-hip narratives. I guess the idea must have been a kind of ironical deconstruction of an IKEA ad that would certainly wow Brooklyn hipsters. Instead, they only confirm that advertising firms tend to employ the sort of wit that wouldn't earn a place on the staff of a college satirical magazine.

One ad on Columbia Street invites us to be awe-struck by the "corrugated awesomeness" of the box. It actually begins with exclamation "Yo! Check this out." And it ends with "Boxes rule!" ("That's how kids talk today. right?" asks the middle-aged Swedish furniture executive.)

Another ad, down by Fairway, wonders if the box on display was acquired by "one of those Mole People who live in the subway." (Hey! They've heard of the subway! Why, those Swedes really understand us New Yorkers after all.) "Troglodytes need furniture, too," it continues." Oy. Not that giant corporations can ever be cool, but how un-cool can you get?

Elegy for Costa del Sol

Lost City readers may recall that, when I did my recent "Who Goes There?" feature about Chez Napoleon for Eater, I had originally intended to dine at the French bistro's next door neighbor, Costa del Sol, but it found it closed for good.

An attentive reader, and Costa del Sol fan, recently wrote to let me know what I missed:

Brooks, I'm SO sorry you missed Costa del Sol. The bar was so quiet and un-hip, that we could talk office gossip all night and never be overheard by anyone in publishing. The dining room was always filled until 7:45 with a pre-theater old-timers crowd. Husbands and wives, old-school surf-and-turfers. Once in a while, an old woman would come in off the street, bang out a tune on the dusty piano, have a little libation and be on her way! My friends and I went for the good sangria, salty meats tapas plates, delicious Tortilla España and friendly barkeep Alfonso, who we hope landed on his feet somewhere nice.

Sounds like a grand joint. According to the commenter, Costa was the victim of a rent increase it couldn't afford. So it goes.

More Sad Pictures of Chumley's

Eater today displays the latest pictorial evidence that Chumley's will not be taking any summertime trade. Sigh. I recognized that brick arch well. I passed under it many a time. Ah well. At least they're trying.

Who Was Leonardo Anyway?

I never went to Leonardo's Pizzeria on Court Street and First Street when it was there. I often passed by it and thought, "Probably a nice joint," but only went in once, for an espresso, because I recognized the coffee "bar" as similar to the kind I'd seen many times in Italy. Now I regret not going, because apparently, around Carroll Gardens, the owner is regarded as some sort of retired pizza master.

When Lucali, the praised pizza place on Henry Street, opened a year or so ago, it was widely reported that the owner, a pizza-making novice, tapped Leonardo for advice and equipment (including the place's espresso machine). Now, Jim McGown—the owner of the hotly anticipated South Brooklyn Pizza, on lower Court Street, and another pizza virgi—tells New York magazine that he also consulted with Leonardo about the art of pie.

Who is this Leonardo? For the proprietor of a pizzeria that barely lasted 20 years and almost never made the annual lists of the top pizza havens in NYC, he certainly made an impression on the pizzaiolo community. I can't even find out his last name. He supposedly still lives in the neighborhood. Couldn't even locate a photo of the place; the above shot is a picture of a Leonardo's pie, courtesy of Slice.

Trolling the internet, I've found a number of former patrons who thought Leonardo's was among the best brick oven pizza they had ever had. Almost everyone remembers the outside garden fondly; it's still there, as part of the Dunkin' Donuts that replaced Leonardo's.

Can anyone shed light on the Man, the Myth, the Master, Leonardo?

Some Stuff That's Interesting

Karl Fisher might look better covered in ivy.

One of the holdout landlords in Manhattanville who wouldn't sell to Columbia gives in. Of course they did.

Petrosino Square is going to get a makeover.

Ed Levine went to Barney Greengrass for the 1908 prices and did what I would have done.

Ward Bakery rubble.

A Good Sign: LaGuardia's Papaya King

Nice to see some authentic New York signage at the airport. Let's keep the tourist curious about genuine Gotham culture.

A Good Sign: Polska Apteka

In Greenpoint. Where else?

Candy Soda Ice Cream

That's what we all want, right?

Well, that's what they wanted in Windsor Terrace back in the day, according to this recently revealed, wonderful old storefront, shown on Gowanus Lounge.

Dailies Discover Brooklyn's LICH Problem

The New York Times and New York Daily News have news pieces today about Long Island College Hospital wild, land-selling ways—something Lost City was bitching about back in January.

Doctors held a rally Monday in which they accused LICH's parent company, Continuum Health Partners, of downsizing the hospital, even as they collect millions for selling off properties that will become new condos on Court Street and Amity Street.

"There have been sales of important pieces of property without input or explanation" to the staff, said Dr. Arnold L. Licht, a psychiatrist and president of the 800-member medical staff at Long Island College Hospital, in the Times.

Stanley Brezenoff, the president of Continuum, who appears to be bold as brass, said he was trying to keep LICH from bankrupcy, which is probably not far from the truth, from what I hear. My favorite quote from him was, "What’s St. Vincent’s except a real estate strategy?" Touche, Stan. That doesn't necessarily make it right, though.

I shudder to think what would happen to the whole South Brooklyn area should LICH fold, as some fear it would. Folks don't really talk or think about it much, but having a hospital you can walk to if you need to is a huge plus to living in Cobble Hills, Carroll Gardens, Red Hook or Boerum Hill, even if LICH is hardly a top-notch facility. I've been there twice in the past year myself. Life without it make me think of this recent horror story article in the Times about the medical situation in South Los Angeles where hospitals are falling like dominos.

Rising gas prices. Poison tomatoes. No electricity in the subway. Disappearing hospitals. Does it see to you lately that the basic building blocks of everyday life are being pulled out from us one by one?

Selling 100-Year-Old Fish

Eater reports the happy news that tomorrow, on June 11, Barney Greengrass—which is to the Upper West Side what the Park Slope Co-op is to, you know, Park Slop—will celebrate 100 years in business (may they have 100 more) by charging 1908 prices. Certainly something we could use in the times of high food prices.

Said Urbanite: "With the rollback prices in effect, coffee costs 5 cents, cola 20 cents and their famous borscht, a cold beat soup (usually $3.75) for 50 cents. For a buck and half breakfast can be Nova Scotia Salmon scrambled with eggs and onions. At lunch, $1.75 gets you a sturgeon sandwich usually priced at $17.75."

Reverse Rejuvenation for Times Square?

When looking at the history of the long building craze in New York City, it's hard not to recognize Times Square at patient zero. This is where overdevelopment began. A neighborhood of low-scale buildings and grunge because the home of Disney, Madame Tussaud's, Planet Hollywood and countless hotels and office towers.

At his point all the glitz and glam and glass feels so permanent and irrevocable. But is it? There's news today that the Virgin Megastore in Times Square will close up shop in February. The giant music outlet was one of the first big arrivals as the area was being transformed in the mid-90s. According to Fox, this is the result of "Virgin’s billionaire balloon traveler Richard Branson quietly leasing the existing 12 megastores to Vornado Realty and Related Properties last year."

Add Virgin's exit to the still-undeveloped-site once occupied by Howard Johnson's, the huge vacant Ollie's space on 44th Street, and the string of closed restaurants and businesses on 45th Street and 46th Street between Broadway and Eighth—still awaiting the construction of a rumored new hotel which never comes—and there are a few missing teeth in Times Square's shiny commercial smile. It's doubtful in this economy that much new is going to happen with these spaces. A couple more significant closings on 42nd Street or the blocks facing Times Square and we may be looking at a new era in the history of the Crossroads of the World.

Say It With an Ice Gondola

At least that's what I think this thing is in the window of Marco Polo Restaurant, which is currently celebrated 25 years.

Details: Sardi's

Sardi's Restaurant is so taken for granted these days that its praises are rarely sung by the New York press. But its interior is a gem of yesteryear grace to match anything at "21" or P.J. Clarke's. I asked the co-owner recently if he had ever approached the Landmarks Commission about landmarking the interior. It seemed like a natural candidate, and it packs as must historical import as Four Seasons and Gage & Tollner (two other landmarked interiors). He said he had. Their message was basically to come back when Sardi's turned 100 years old. That would be in 2021. Bureaucratic putzes.

The gentlemen in the picture below is Leonard Lyons, a once widely known columnist who held court at Sardi's every night as his designated table.

People Have a Lot to Say About Solomon's Appliance Repair

Last October, I posted a short "A Good Sign" item about a Bensonhurst business called Solomon's Appliance Repair, admiring the store's distinctive signage.

Usually I post these sign items, people notice for a day or two, and then they fade into history. Not Solomon's. I'm still getting comments about the 56-year-old shop. No, not comments—stories. Very LONG stories. Solomon's seems to inspire devotion and rage in equal portions. They furnished the worst customer experience one ever had; they furnished the best customer experience one ever had. One writer, Madeleine, went from fury to joy to penitence over the course of three posts, over the way Solomon's handled her Solis Coffee Machine. At the end, she wrote:

My Solis Coffee Machine works better then when it was new. The brew comes out piping hot now. A perfect cup of coffee. We all should realize, the difficulties Solomon faces to receive parts for appliances. We all should be as patient as Bruce. I enjoyed talking to you when I picked up my machine. I now realize the patience you have to deal with difficult and demanding customers like me.

Hugs and kisses all around. The lastest post, coming today, came from one Michael, who would rather die than part with his "beloved, 40-year-old Hamilton Beach kitchen mixer," which "was acting badly." So off to Solomon's he went.

Not only do I love the way it looks and its tremendous heft, but I wasn't looking forward to dropping $350+ on a new mixer, especially since most of them, even at that price, are pretty disposable.

Solomon's fixed it for $105. "One last bulwark against the complete triumph of the disposable society. Thanks, Solomon's!," cried Michael.

I think I'm going to have to have Solomon's try to fix something of mine. This experience is obviously not to be missed.

A Talk With Cesar Fuentes

Pork Chop Express this week published a lengthy interview with Cesar Fuentes, the spokesperson for the Red Hook Ballfield Food Vendors, which went through so much tsuris last summer at the hands of the City. The Vendors have not yet returned to the park, though it's hope their south-of-the-border delectables will be back by the end the June.

The saddest news to come out of the interview is that the vendors appearance will have been sanitized. The will operate out of city-mandated mobile food vending trucks, and the blue tents will go bye-bye. No doubt this will created a more sanitary environment. But the special flavor of the set-up will be gone. As Fuentes says, "The physical, unique aesthetic - weather beaten tarps, an old world food bazaar and unique 'mercado' feel - couldn't be kept despite our appeals for its preservation. And the operating costs for each vendor to continue selling in the park may be prohibitively high for some."

Read the entire interview here.

Why Cranes Keep Crashing

Now we're really getting to the nitty gritty of how dirty and corrupt the Department of Building is, and what exactly is proving to be the hallmark of Bloomberg's administation.

City Room reports that the city’s chief crane inspector is a lying, bribe-taking, records-tampering, soon-to-be felon. James Delayo was arrested Friday and charged with taking money to pass cranes under his review. He also pocketed cash from crane companies who wanted to make sure that their employees would pass the required licensing exam. How did they ensure it? By paying Delayo $3,000 for a copy of the crane operator’s exam and the test answers! More:

Mr. Delayo, who is being prosecuted by the office of Manhattan District Attorney Robert M. Morgenthau, surrendered this morning to investigators from the city Department of Investigation, the official said.

The charges against Mr. Delayo, 60, were to include third-degree bribe-receiving and first-degree tampering with public records, both D felonies for which he could face up to seven years in prison, come just a week after the city’s second fatal tower crane collapse in 10 weeks.

...

"This is a case where greed trumps safety," said Daniel J. Castleman, the chief assistant district attorney in Mr. Morgenthau’s office, which is investigating the crane collapse last week. "With all the construction going on in New York City and the fatal accidents of the last few months, this type of conduct can not and will not be tolerated."

Delayo, a 26-year veteran of the Building Department has signed off on the annual inspection of between 20 and 30 Class C cranes since 2002, the Times said. How much did he get for passing on an inspection. A measly few hundred dollar. Hey, that's fair enough for endangering the public's welfare, isn't it?

"In addition to the bribe receiving and tampering with public records counts," said the Times, "prosecutors also expect to charge him with first-degree falsifying business records, an E felony which carries a maximum four-years term, and receiving an unlawful gratuity, a misdemeanor for which he could face up to a year in jail."

So what about all those crane operators who did work while knowing they hadn't taken the test, or had cheated? What about the companies they worked for? Seems to me they should all be arrested and tried.

So, Mayor Mike: Do you still think the federal government and the stage government shouldn't get involved?

Brooklyn and Bullets

When you see an old building with lettering on the facade indicating it is a gun club, it's usually a remnant of the original facade, and its shooting days are lost past.

Not so with the Metropolitan Rod and Gun Club on Pacific Street in Cobble Hill, which stands in a middle of a little-trafficked street of parking garages and former carriage house. It has a website which indicates it is a living, breathing club offering "Indoor pistol and smallbore rifle range, Indoor archery, Fishing opportunities" and other delights. The club was incorporated in 1934. They bought the Pacific Street building in 1939. In 1955 the Club purchased 200 acres of hunting and fishing land in Delaware County, New York. Since it has added approximately 600 additional acres adjoining the existing property, giving us a total of 836 acres of hunting lands. The Met is a powerhouse landowner!

The place is historical as well. During World War II, the entire Brooklyn division of the City Patrol Corps, over 5,000 men, was qualified on its range, "without accident or cost to the City." It currently has 250 members. If you want to become a member, you better be 21 and have "strong character references."

Check out the archery range (far below).

Lost City: Wisconsin Edition: A Good Sign: Red Room

In Sturgeon Bay, WI. It says Midwestern bar to me.

Lost City Asks "Who Goes to Chez Napoleon?"

My latest "Who Goes There?" feature for Eater.com takes me to Chez Napoleon, a little French restaurant on W. 50th that has chugged along quietly since 1960. I had actually been planning to visit Costa del Sol next door, but found it closed. I was kinda sad, but also know that the meal I had at Chez Napoleon was probably much better than anything I would have gotten at Costa del Sol. And the French place trumps the Spanish in the charm department without a doubt.

Chez Napoleon's world used to be much different. When it opened its doors, Madison Square Garden was right across the street! This is where its main trade came from. Must have been pretty brisk.

Above is the bizarre "family portrait" that depicts the three members of the Bruno family that run the joints. Apparently, Ingres came back from the dead to paint it.

Lost City: Wisconsin Edition: Two Rivers, the Perfect Town

Two Rivers, Wisconsin, is a town that entrances me. It looks like something Hollywood would dream up to represent early-20th-century small-town America. It's entire commercial life runs along Main Street. It has a village square with a gazebo, and right on the square are the town's courthouse, library, a church and its most important store, an independent, family-owned department stored called Schroeder's (pronounced "Shray-ders"), which has been there since 1891. On the outskirts, as you leave town, are a Dairy Queen and an actual drive-in diner, the kind with two facing rows of parking spots and a cement divider running down the middle.


If none of this seems wholesome enough, consider that Two Rivers claims it is the birthplace of the ice cream sundae. As the story goes, in 1881, a soda jerk named Ed Berners heeded customer George Hallauer's outlandish wish for some chocolate sauce on top of his dish of ice cream. A food fad was born. Of course, these claims have to be taken with a grain of salt. Ithica also claims the sundae as its own. But H.L. Menken once studied the issue and sided with Two Rivers, and that's good enough for me. Menken was no sucker.



The tavern where the sundae was invented is gone, but the "historic Washington House" has taken up the banner. You can get ice cream in this former inn, and roam around a makeshift, but surprisingly interesting museum of Two Rivers history, included an excellent representation of Berners' ice cream parlor (which looks like a bar). Go upstairs and you'll find a well-preserved ballroom with hand-painted murals that looks like something out of one of Dawn Powell's rural novels.




Those wondering why Wisconsinites called water fountains "bubblers" should walk into Schroeder's. In the middle of the store is an intact, working, ancient fountain. Twist the metal knob and the water doesn't stream out in an arc, but bubbled up from the top. Hence "bubbler."



Schroeder's is what you expect from a independent department store—a breed that is nearly extinct in America, but once could be found in every city, big and small. It's not flashy, the fixtures are old and the product lines are third-rate. (There's something fascinatingly melancholy about the atmosphere in small-town retail outlets.) Judging from the clothes and shoes available, Schroeder's buys with farmers in mind. But there's an old-world charm and you can find bargains.


Two Rivers has a lot of great old restaurants with great old signs. I love this sign for Arvy's Home Cooking (unfortunately now closed). Next to it is the Golden Nugget Supper Club, for which you're instructed to use the side entrance. Kurtz's Pub & Deli, a German haunt with a good selection of beers, has been there for more than a century. There's one Chinese take-out place called China Wok, with a magnificent fading ad above it for Bubble Up soda. There's also on of the most beautifully situated McDonald's I've ever seen, set on a sliver of land between Lake Michigan and one of Two Rivers' two rivers.

A Barber Pole

A barber pole. Not just a spinning tube attached to the side of a building, but an actual pole, standing separately on the sidewalk. Outside a barber shop that advertises itself as "Barber Shop" (with a small "3 Aces" up top). And with a sign in the window saying "Men's & Ladie's Haircuts," just in case we didn't know what they were offering. We're in the world of the elemental here. The fundamental.

A Good Sign: Mazzella's Market

On Ninth Avenue. Extra points for the film noirish shadows thrown by the fire escape.

Goodbye Fabulously Ugly Building

AM New York took time to note that one of Manhattan's most unsightly facades has disappeared for good. Said monstrosity was the one-time home of Dr. Locke Shoes and it sat on 34th Street (home of many an uggo building) between 6th and 5th. Here's the tale:

It was ugly. It was bizarre. It was mind-boggling. It was a New York original. And now it's gone.

We're talking about what had to be the ugliest facade in all of New York City. Known variously as the "Foot Saver" or the "Dr. Locke" building, it was quite a streetscape aberration.

At some point -- we dare suggest it was the 1960s or 1970s, but bad taste truly has no vintage -- the townhouse-style building was insanely covered up in rust-colored metal sheets. Windows were of course, necessary, so openings were very crudely cut, apparently by a saw-wielding, blindfolded amateur.

There it stood, a testament to bad taste and to another time in retail along 34th Street. Dr. Locke/Foot Saver belongs to an era when low-rent retail, shoe stores and fast-food joints ruled the roost around Herald Square. There's still plenty of that, but more and more, it's high-end retail that you'll find along this stretch. Dr. Locke/Foot Saver survived the arrival on the street of Banana Republic and Club Monaco.

The facade's been ripped off. The structure is awaiting a new face. I know it's stupid, but I'm gonna kinda miss it. It was individual and peculiar. What comes next won't be.

Oh, Sweet Jesus

Must we endure a JC Penney? I know we already have Target and K-Mart and IKEA and other such embarrassing chain department stores. But, I don't know, it just seems like such a step down for the City. All right, call me a snob. Fine. I don't care. But New York just keeps getting tackier and tackier.

Chez Brigitte to Close

Even among the rash of closings we've had to endure in recent times, this is still pretty hard to take: Chez Brigitte, the sliver of a diner on Greenwich Avenue in Greenwich Village, is closing tonight.

The place is legendary and beloved by locals and oldtimers. The name is kind of joke, since this "Chez" has only 11 stools—seats that are notoriously hard to get. It was opened in 1958 by Marseille native Brigitte Catapano, and place always just screamed "Greenwich Village": romantic, eccentric, a bit precious, humble, possesed of a personal flair. A Mrs. Santos took over in 1994.

And why? The rent has doubled, of course. Why is it landlords can only see the price of a space, never the value of a tenant?

The town's headed in the wrong direction, folks.

Old and New

A building on Ninth Avenue near 52nd Street exhibits an interesting combination of old and new New York. It's an odd L-shaped structure with frontage both on Ninth and 52nd. On the Ninth Avenue side, I noticed that what was the Janovic paint store has spruced up its facade with some new Benjamin Moore signage that's about as sleek as Benjamin Moore signage is going to get.

On the old, unwashed 52nd Street side, meanwhile, is a much older, metal version of a Moore sign, as well as something reading "S. Wolf Since 1869."

So which is it? Fancy modern Benjamin Moore or old-world S. Wolf? Well, both, in a way. As I understand it, Janovic (which was no spring chicken either, having begun business in 1888) bought the S. Wolf paint concern back in 1987. The two paint families had known each other for many years. Janovic sold to homeowners. Wolf helped supply paint for large ships and skyscrapers, including the Empire State. Finally, old Stephen Wolf—whose only son was a London theatre critic (!) who didn't want to work in paint—decided to sell. As part of the deal, Janovic got the Ninth Avenue building. But they left the 52nd Street signs, perhaps out of deference.

A few years agos, the Janovics sold out and the store is now part of the Moore chain, which is owned by Warren Buffett, Mr. Richest Man in America. But still the Wolf sign stays. The 52nd Street facade is additionally one of the most interesting, oddest and more ornate in the neighborhood.

The S., by the way, stands for Simon, Stephen's grandfather.

A Good Sign: Market Diner

I know the place is closed. But the signs are still there. And they're great.

On 11th Avenue and 44th in Manhattan.

Details: Arnold Hatters

Arnold Hatters on Eighth Avenue near 36th is one of the last old-school hat dealers in the city, and the only one that's priced with the working man in mind. It used to be where the New York Times building now stands, right across from Port Authority, but was bumped a few blocks south when the tower development got underway. The Rubin family, which has long operated the store, provides a lot of hats to the theatrical trade. I now see that they also have a fine selection of walking sticks. Steamers and blockers are still on hand, and a variety of brushes for a variety of hats.






Details: The Brooklyn Inn

The Sol Sets

Not sure if this means anything to anybody, but I was walking to 50th and Ninth in Manhattan with the express intent of dining at Costa del Sol, and Costa del Sol was closed—for good!

Costa del Sol wasn't a landmark or particularly old, but I liked it's shabby appearance and refusal to spruce up with the new "Clinton." Never ate there, so I can't vouch for the food, but it was owned by the same guys who run Spanish Taverna on 38th and 7th, and I've been there, and it's pretty good. So I'm guessing Costa del Sol was OK.

Adieu, Montrachet

Montrachet, which has been sealed up since May 2006 amongst take of "renovation" and other such prevarications, will open no more. Owner Drew Nieporent finally admitted it was closed for good and I, for one, am deeply sad.

Though Montrachet was only 21 years old when it shuttered, I count it as a landmark, since it achieved much in its short reign. It was an early pioneer in Tribeca when that neighborhood was still a kingdom of warehouses and industry, and caused people to start traveling downtown for fine dining. It helped bring fine French dining back to the city when such haute fare was dying out. In short, it changed things.

Montrachet should have gone on for decades more. It was elegant and understated, without being stuffy or tired. The food was good and the wine list great. I never found the service snooty. My wife and I were in the habit of going there for our anniversary and we always enjoyed our time and felt that we were experiencing a kind of unspoken sophistication that used to be the hallmark of New York living.

Not sure why Nieporent closed it. If it were losing money, it would have been easy enough to inject it with new life. New chef, new menu, whatever. Perhaps he got bored with it. I would have rather he shut down Tribeca Grill, which I find infinitely more past its prime than Montrachet ever was. But Bobby DeNiro wouldn't like that, I'm guessing.

A new restaurant will open in the Montrachet space at the end of summer. It's name? Corton. Well, at least they're keeping it Burgundy-themed.

The End of the Rainbow?

The Sunset Park-based blog Best View in Brooklyn reports that the Rainbow Cafe, one of the finest sights on Fifth Avenue in that nabe, has closed up for a couple months. According to local sources, the owner of the large restaurant and banquet hall has passed away. It will apparently remain closed for much of the summer. We at Lost City applaud the owner for his years of service to the community and hope he/she had a child or relative wishing to keep the torch burning at the old-school business, which has one of the finest signs in all of Gotham.

A Good Sign: J. Eis and Sons Appliances

J. Eis looks like it's out of business, since the ground floor space of this building is occupied by a bar. But Eis operates out of the second-floor space and is very much a going concern. It's pronounced like "ice."

This Was a Pet Store

I was stunned to walk down E. Houston the other day and find a luxury boutique hotel at the corner of Eldridge. It calls itself the Hotel East Houston and it lives its sleek existence inside of a renovated five-story tenement.

I remember when this particular address was an outrageously garish pet shop. There was a multi-colored mural on the Eldridge Street side of the building, depicting parrots and other jungle beasts. It wasn't exactly beautiful, but it livened up a drab stretch of street.

You can now stay in a "Stanton Full" for $279 or an "Orchard Elite" for $299. The rooms looks small, and the design seems kinda faux swank, like it could very possibly turn shabby in just a few years. There's also a roof deck, where, not too long ago, immigrant laborers probably fled to escape the summer heat on the street. Times change.

New York Loses Another Unique Place

In the 1990s, when I worked in midtown, I would sometime duck in the Mercantile Library to look around and seize a few moments of solace in the noisy east 40s. It was one of those comforting, crusty, fusty edifices from another era, when Gotham was replete with serious-minded clubs and societies meant to ennoble the city and its residents. It was full of silence and woodwork and old paintings and forgotten memorabilia of history. And lots and lots of books. There was another one such place just a couple blocks south, the Society of Mechanics and Tradesman. They are two of the three private libraries remaining in New York City. Think of them at the Gramercy Parks of the library world.

Well, the Mercantile Library went the way of the passenger pigeon last month, the New York Times reports. It's not out of business, but it chose to sell its grand old home on E. 47th where it's been since 1932. It couldn't afford the $6 million needed for renovation, so it chose to move. It's taking its holdings and some of the ornamentation with it. But you can bet the new home with be smaller and not nearly as redolent with charm and nobility. Quite frankly, in this market, I'd be surprised if they can find a suitable place in the Tribeca-Soho area they're aiming at. (They want to be where the young folks are, you see, and have changed their named to the marginally hipper Mercantile Library Center for Fiction.)

The developer, unnamed, supposedly will preserve the building. Seems to me that if they were kind of developer interested in preservation, they'd be OK with having their name released to the press.

Two-Time Loser

Pro-aesthetics New Yorkers have been railing against the eyesores that are Fedders air-conditioning unit for years. (See Queens Crap for some pretty steady carping.) And nothing sets off a over-development watchdog like the mention of an ugly height-adding bulkhead being stuck on top of a new or landmarked building.

So how do you really piss off a preservationist? That's right—put an offending bulkhead on top of an formerly agreeable building and then stuff it full of Fedders units! Just look at this East Village specimen on Second Avenue near 12th Street. You can read the "FEDDERS" clear as day from the sidewalk. I mean, for crying out loud. Why not slap on some aluminum siding and truly fuck the building up?

A Good Sign: John's of 12th Street

Don't look for the "of 12th Street" on the sign. Just "John's," in cursive letting. The old East Village joint has been around for exactly 100 years.

Cardwell Rips Bloomberg Anew

Maybe it's me, but it seems lately as though the New York Times and its City Hall reporter, Diane Cardwell, have suddenly decided to give golden mayor Mike Bloomberg the back of its hand. First there was the May 20 article that discovered (surprise) that Mike had a temper, and was imperious and contemptuous of others. And today we find an article saying that, in the wake of last week's crane accident in Manhattan—the second since March—folks are beginning to wonder if the source of the overdevelopment problem and its incumbent dangers isn't the mayor himself and his economic philosophy. Writes Cardwell:

But the deadly crane collapse that killed two people and injured another on the Upper East Side on Friday morning is now threatening to tarnish that legacy. It was the latest in a series of construction-related accidents — including a crane collapse in March that killed seven people — that have left New Yorkers uneasy, with a growing concern that Mr. Bloomberg may have let high-rise construction proliferate without adequate oversight.

Indeed, despite the administration’s recent efforts to improve construction safety, including replacing the commissioner of the Department of Buildings, there are signs that residents — even those who have generally viewed him favorably in the past — are running out of patience with Mr. Bloomberg.

And here's the telling paragraph:

James F. Brennan, a Democratic assemblyman from Brooklyn who is a staunch critic of the Department of Buildings, said that Bloomberg officials were working to fix a system whose deeply ingrained troubles long predated the current administration, and that they understood “the necessity of being proactive, finally.” But, he added, he was unsure that they had “thought through what their problem really is,” saying that he had not yet seen “anything from the leadership that says, ‘We’ve got to look at the overall management structure and see whether we have adequate focus to solve problems.’ ”

Teflon no more, is this mayor.

Shoulda Left It Alone

Looking at the lonesome facade of 37 Carroll Street over the years, you couldn't imagine how things could get worse for the former brick building. It had no walls. It had no ceiling. It seemed to have no future. It was just a facade (see below), standing up against the elements.

But anything can get worse. And, for 37 Carroll, it has. Last year, around this time, I met the owner of the mysterious one-sided structure. He told me the 103-year-old building that had stood that way for 20 years! He used to have a bricklaying business in the ground floor space, and had waited for years for a zoning change so he could install rental units. The change finally came through and he was beginning work.

But the labor has been fitful, and the new activity seems to have weakened the once-strong facade, which the owner had retained simply because he liked it. It now looks like it's wearing a metal straightjacket. And the cornice that once sat atop the wall has been removed. As for the walls and ceiling and additional floors there's little to show. Poor thing.

The Bronx Loses a Bookstore

The Sunday New York Times ran a story reporting that Paperbacks Plus, a book store in Riverdale, was closing its doors after 38 years.

This is sad, of course, but not unusual. Independent book stores have been closing at a rapid clip in New York City for more than a decade. But there was this line in the piece, that Paperbacks Plus was "the only independent general interest bookstore in the Bronx."

Can this be true? In all the neighborhoods of the big old Bronx, this was the one and only indy book store that sold a little bit of everything? That seems very strange.

The shuttering is not involuntary. The owner, the amusingly named Fern Jaffe, decided to pack it in at the age of 75. Can't say as I blame her. But I do feel a bit sorry for the Bronx

Carroll Gardens: Pool Hall Canyon

I got into a conversation in Carroll Park with an old man who said he had grown up on First Place between Court and Clinton Streets in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn. He said he had basically grown up in the park. I inquired weather it had changed much in the past 50 years, and he answered that it was pretty much the same.

He then proceeded to tell me how he had typically spent his days back then, and that was in playing pool. There was a pool hall on the second floor of a building at Court and Union Streets. I assume he meant the present home of the Albee Dance Studio. He said there was also a pool hall where Court Street Pastries now stands.

I mentioned that I had learned that the Italian restaurant Casa Rosa, at the corner of Court and Carroll, has also once been a pool hall. He confirmed that. "When they closed I bought one of the tables from them," he said. "I got it for $100. It was a nice one, with small pockets."

"In the old days, women were not allowed in the pool halls. Do you know ESPN?" he continued. I nodded. "You ever seen some of them women pool players. They're knockouts. I saw one of them leaning over a table on TV, and I said to my wife, 'Holy crap, will ya look at that?' She said to me, 'Yeah, well you aren't exactly what I bargained for, either.'"