Our Disgusting Mayor

I've never been a fan of term limits. I think term limits have always been built into the system; it's called voting. You don't like someone, vote him out. There: his term has been limited. No additional law is needed.

But term limits have been approved by New York voters twice in the past several years. It's what they want. But it's not what power-coveting, attention-loving, law-flouting, two-faced Mayor Michael Bloomberg wants. In the past he has supported term limits. He has even called the idea to revise the term limit law "disgusting." But that when the law applied to others, not to him. Now that it applies to him, he wants that law GONE.

Our mayor is a hypocrite. Our mayor is a double-dealer. Our mayor is 66 and is the richest man in the City, one of the richest in the nation, and yet it's not enough. He needs to be a civic savior, a man of power and consequence, Mr. Popularity. And since nobody wanted him to be President, and nobody asked him to be Vice-President, and Governor Patterson is looking more and more formidable an opponent with each passing day, holding on to City Hall is the only way he can stay in the papers, the only way reporters will still listen to what he has to say about the environment, the future, affairs of state and trans-fats.

The rationale that is being put forward—and it's as cynical and opportunistic as Giuliani's was back in 2001, when he said the events of 9/11 demanded he stay in power—is that, as the Times put it, "the worldwide financial crisis — with its potentially severe impact on New York City — demands his steady hand and business experience."

Uh huh. Excuse me, but that financial crisis happened on Bloomberg's watch. Unless I missed something, he was mayor during the years in which the mortgage bubble grew and grew. I don't remember him warning us of impending danger. I don't remember him berating Wall Street, the Fed, the SEC and Treasury Secretary for their reckless behavior. I think, instead, he said a lot of stuff about how the economy was robust and the city was doing well. Bloomberg's a Wall Street guy. He knows all the players. I'm sure he lunches with them, gets them on the horn every day. He did nothing to avert this disaster. He was an enabler.

The Times wrote, "In the business community, however, the idea of a Bloomberg third term is popular. At charity balls and on golf courses, executives like the financier Steven Rattner, the developer Jerry I. Speyer and the media mogul Rupert Murdoch have encouraged him to seek a third term." Well, of course they do. Bloomberg has handed over the city to business interests over the past seven years. He is fecklessly pro-business. That's why we have a corrupt DOB.

A few months ago, I thought the Times and other papers were beginning to see through this petty megalomaniac. But now the Daily News and the Post are encouraging him to run again. On Oct. 1, the Times will print an editorial asking the term limits be abolished. What is going on? Is Bloomberg buying everybody off? Why do people so easily let his political machinations slide?

If he gets his way, we can add political crisis to the other crises New York is currently suffering.

A Lamb Lies Down on Canal Street

Does this Canal Street building look a little fancy for a Zenith television store?

Well, that's because it is. 31 Canal Street was built as a theatre, by the ubiquitous theater architect Thomas W. Lamb. He chose the Spanish Baroque style for this single-screener, constructed in 1927. It remained a theatre, run by Loew's, until the 1960s, when DOB records indicate the ground floor was given over to retail and the second floor to light industry.

I have to think the retail in question was the Zenith shop, because that sign looks pretty vintage to me. The 1960s would seem to me to be the last time any appliance retailer would boast of color TVs and Hi-Fis. The store has been closed for what looks like a while. Between the Lamb facade and the Zenith sign, though, 31 Canal still remains a sight for sore eyes.

Red Apple Rest Rests

On a recent trip upstate, while cruising up old Hwy. 17, I passed by the haunted, silent hull of the Red Apple Rest.

A icon of long past era of vacationing, the Red Apple was a fabled stopover for New Yorkers on their way to resorts, summer homes and families in the Catskills. In the 1950's, it boasted a million customers a year and served 350,000 hot dogs. The enormous asphalt field of the parking lot would be filled with cars and buses. Traffic along 17 (this was before the New York State Thruway was built) would often be so slow that family members could get out of their moving cars, use the bathroom, make a phone call and order some food before their ride has passed the Red Apple. Every one stopped there. The Borscht Belt comedians knew it well. It was the Stuckey's of the New York set, with a legendary vegetable soup, not a pecan log, as its iconic menu item.

The Red Apple was started by Reuben Freed, a refugee from Russia. He bought a combination gas station-refreshment stand in 1931 on Hwy. 17 and called it the Red Apple, after his chef, a red-haired man named Red Appel. The restaurant hit its stride after WWII. It stayed open 24 hours a day. Freed almost never went home. The Thruway dealt it a slow death, as did the lessening popularity of the Catskill resorts, which eventually closed one by one. Freed died in 1980. In 1985, Freed's son Herbert sold the place to Peter Kourakos.

The Red Apple mysteriously closed in September 2006. Signs in the window and a telephone answering machine message, said "We went away for a graduation and vacation." The restaurant never reopened. It was condemned on Jan. 23, 2007, due to roof damage. It has sat there ever since.

Inside, not much has been touched. Tables and chairs still sit, waiting for customers that will never come. A menu board still hangs above the counter listed very reasonable prices. It even trumpets specials, mostly like posted back in 2006. ("Egg Salad Platter.") A cruel sign on the side mocks "Bus Parking Only!" An old phone booth is neither taking or receiving calls. In the window is a sampler reading "No matter where I serve my guests, they seem to like my kitchen best." My mother had one just like that.

Trader Joe's, One Weekend Later

Doesn't it seem like the Brooklyn Trader Joe's opened eons ago?

I decided to check in on the Brooklyn's own Big Bank of Food this morning, one weekend after its official opening. A crowd of about two dozen was gathered outside, somewhat impatiently waiting for the doors to open at 9 AM. Once they did get in, however, everything was quite civilized, and there was none of the hurriedness and frenzy associated with the Union Square store (which, my sources tell me, is the busiest Trader Joe's in the nation).

Each of the dozen registers was manned was a willing, waiting clerk, some yearningly waving small American flags to signal the dispatcher to send a customer their way. I suspect the number of working registers will dwindle considerable in the next few days if this keeps up. Or maybe crowds will pick up when everyone realizes the store is open. Could go either way. I'm betting on the former, though. Witness the example of IKEA.

I was cashed out by a little old lady, who was none too quick. But she was sweet, and I liked that Joe's had hired all sorts of people to work there.

Oh, and the steel drum band is gone. Thank God.

Thank You, Nicolai Ouroussoff

In the Sept. 25 New York Times, architecture critic Nicolai Ouroussoff wrote an article so wonderful, so needed, so much a call to arms suited to our aggrieved times, I can scarcely believe it appeared in the pages of the too-judicious-by-half Grey Lady.

Titled, splendidly, "New York City, Tear Down These Walls," it put forth the Swiftian modest proposal that the financially crippled City should, "Instead of crying over what can’t be built,... refocus our energies on knocking down the structures that not only fail to bring us joy, but actually bring us down?"

He then went on to list his seven choices for the wrecking ball—a couple of them very recent creations, monstrosities of the Bloomberg administration's building binge. "Ugliness, of course, should not be the only criterion," he reasoned. "There are countless dreadful buildings in New York; only a few (thankfully) have a traumatic effect on the city."

And, oh!, but does he hit the right marks, from Madison Square Garden to the Verizon building to the Astor Place tower in the East Village. Vulgarities that make you grit your teeth in fury. Here is the list (along with some of Nick's juicier comments):

1. MADISON SQUARE GARDEN AND PENNSYLVANIA STATION
"As arenas go, it is cramped and decrepit."

2. TRUMP PLACE
"A cheap, miserable contribution to an area of the city already in need of some mending, this luxury residential complex is about as glamorous as a toll plaza."

3. JACOB K. JAVITS CONVENTION CENTER
"The site would serve better as housing than as a shed for dog shows and car fanatics."

4. ANNENBERG BUILDING, MOUNT SINAI MEDICAL CENTER
"This towering structure, clad in rusted Cor-Ten steel, looks like either a military fortress or the headquarters of a sinister spy agency."

5. 375 PEARL STREET (The Verizon building)
"Each time I cross the East River, I find myself wanting to throw my cellphone at the building."

6. ASTOR PLACE
"Astor Place would seem more comfortable in a suburban office park...it’s a literal manifestation of money smoothing over the texture of everyday life."

7. 2 COLUMBUS CIRCLE
"A mild, overly polite renovation that obliterates the old while offering us nothing breathtakingly new."

My God! How did this get past the hyper-rational editors of the Times? Oh well. I don't care. As long as it made it into print. As long as the creators of these brick-and-mortar crimes are properly and publicly embarrassed. Do yourself a treat and read the entire article. It's brimming with vim and vinegar. Well worth the time.

Nom Wah Tea Parlor to Reopen

It's been nearly a month since the DOH slapped the timeless Chinatown treasure, the Nom Wah Tea Parlor, with 58 violations, resulting in the shuttering of the dim sum palace. So I decided to check in on the Doyers Street restaurant over the weekend.

I found it still shut, but with the lights on, revealing the wonderful interior, with its tile floor, tin ceilings, old-fashioned bar and ancient equipment. The central pillar surrounded by coat hooks is, alone, a wonder. Things didn't look too tidy, so I wasn't encouraged as to the parlor's future. In the back, four middle-aged and elderly Chinese men sat. I think there were playing cards.

After a while, one of the men peered out the door, and I seized my chance. This turned out to be the owner. He told me he expected the parlor to reopen next week. He was only waiting for a DOH inspector to return. "It's all cleaned up," he said. He also did not try to pretend that the restaurant had really been closed for renovations or because of an electrical problem, as many eateries pretend when the DOH shuts them down. He just slapped his hand on the DOH notice in the window. "Health Department," he said, simply.

It will be good to have the parlor back.

What's Wrong With New York

What's wrong with New York? Easy. We don't do anything anymore. We don't makes things. We're non-productive. No industry. Our activity is all make-work and busy-work. We open restaurant after restaurant, bar after bar. We market and advertise things, but don't create them. We put on plays and make television shows. We open hot clubs and neo-speakeasies. We're like Rome in its final days. Eating and entertainment. Eating and entertainment. Nothing solid. Nothing you can lay your hand to and say, "This makes life work." Just distractions. Enhancements. Everything transitory and ephemeral.

We rely on a few specious "industries" to keep the City's engine going. There's financial services, in which people make money shuffling other people's money around. Then there's real estate, in which people either many money feeding the same living spaces through the system again and again, or tear down existing building so they can build news one, creating temporary construction jobs and upping the ante on living costs each time. This process is repeated when necessary. There's tourism, when folks from other countries come and gawk at what appears to be a working City, and spend lots of money at the restaurants and bars and clubs and arts attractions that we keep opening for them.

In recent months, the Recession halted the decade-long development boom. Poof! There's goes one source of income. Then the financial crisis on Wall Street threw financial services against a brick wall. Poof! Did it surprise anyone that, with two of the aces in City Hall's economic house of cards withdrawn, the City suddenly went from Boom Town to Bust?

Now, tell me again that Bloomberg is a great business manager. His company, called New York City, is going down the drain. He gave the building industry full reign, with little oversight, until it became so corrupt it collapsed under its own greed. He has no official say over what goes down at the Stock Exchange, but he's an old Wall Street hand and a supposedly smart moneyman, and it is his City. Certainly he knew what sort of shenanigans were happening in lower Manhattan. And I'm sure he has personal relationships with many of the key players in this mess. Yet he never issued warnings or did anything to slow that train wreck. He played it for all it was worth, collecting the money for Gotham's coffers, until the crash. And this is the man we're supposed to elect for four more years to fix things.

But does anyone learn? The single block of Union Street, from Hicks to just past Columbia in Brooklyn, already had three real estate brokerages: the oldtimer Frank Manzione at the corner of Union and Columbia, Frank Galligano kittycorner from Manzione, and another office that opened in the old Lattacini-Barese Salumeria space in 2003. Now, next to the former Schnack, a sign indicates that we can welcome a fourth broker: Cozy Quarters Real Estate. God forbid there should be a shoe repair shop, or hardware store, or fish monger or anything other than a restaurant, bar and real estate brokerage.

Goodbye Donut House; Hello, Cobble Hill Coffee Shop

The Donut Shop, old-time diner in South Brooklyn, will reopen on "Monday or Tuesday" after a brief renovation. Only it won't be the Donut House. I was told the name of the place will now be the Cobble Hill Coffee Shop, "but it will be run by the Donut House people." To bolster this fact, a new sign is already up, reading "Cobble Hill Coffee Shop."

I guess that's all OK. Except part of what made the Donut House so great is it was called the Donut House, a kind of oddball name for a diner, especially since there weren't many donuts for sale. Cobble Hill Coffee Shop has a much more prosaic sound. Also, someone should have told them that the store is south of Degraw Street, which means, technically, it's in Carroll Gardens, not Cobble Hill. How businesses make this mistake again and again mystifies me. Then again, maybe the owners just thought Cobble Hill sounded more swish.

Joltin' Joe's

It's happened. Brooklyn has a Trader Joe's.

The store was good and crowded by 9:30 AM. Horizontally, that is. Vertically, there was plenty of room. One thing you can say about the space: it's airy. Must be the most head room of any Trader Joe's on the planet. The old bank building's ceiling towers above the crowd, newly scrubbed and quite handsome. Some of the windows were decorated with scenes meant to endear the chain to Brooklnites (like that was necessary): the Bridge, Coney Island, etc.


Many balloons and a kitschy steel drum band greeted customers. Lotsa people like me (bloggers, NY1, and who knows who else) took pictures.



Otherwise, the scene was very much like what you might find at any Trader Joe's. Staffers in Hawaiian shirts. Unrelieved crowds of shoppers pushing tiny red metal carts. And, of course, an enormous line for check-out. Already. I left without buying anything. I'm come back on a weekday around 2 PM or so, and hope for a line of only 20 customers of so.


And, it is fall, so there were pumpkins, of course. Sigh. Pumpkins.

The Mystery of Gary's Liquors

Gary's Liquors is located at 141 Essex Street on the Lower East Side. It sells wines and liquors, so the sign (one of three) says. It was founded in 1933, so the sign says.

Has anyone every heard of 75-year-old Gary's Liquors? Has anyone shopped there? I can find out nothing about the place, which dates back to the tale end of the LES's days as an immigrant mecca. I've check every resource I can think of. The signs sure don't look like those of an old business. And what's with the "KGB" initials. Is there some sinister Soviet connection at work here? Please write in. In the meantime, I will continue my investigation.

A Good Sign: Economy Foam Center

On Houston Street, near Essex. Economy Foam isn't there anymore, but the sign remains. I bought a futon there once.

Hart Island

I have many items on my list of New York City places I still must visit. But high on the tally for some time has been Hart Island.

Hart Island, at the western end of Long Island Sound and just east of the Bronx, is New York City's potter's field—the largest tax funded cemetery in the world. Gotham unfortunates who have died without funds and/or connections, have been buried on this flat, isolated piece of land since the Civil War. Rikers Island inmates conduct the mass burials. Hart Island has a spooky charisma and I've long wanted to visit, but the isle is off limits to regular citizens. The closest I've ever gotten was staring through a viewfinder at the southern tip of City Island.

The amazing Richard Nickel of Kingston Lounge, however, someone made his way ashore and took a raft of fascinating pictures. I've posted a few here, but go to his blog to see the whole collection. They're well worth it.

Novelist Dawn Powell, playwright Leonard Melfi and child actor Bobby Driscoll, each dying in relative obscurity, all ended up here. The former two were reclaimed and buried elsewhere. Oscar winner Driscoll still lies in Hart Island soil.

Some Stuff That's Interesting

There was a submarine in the East River. Does this have something to do with the financial crisis?

Red Hook's going to get a mall. A big one.

Renovation of the save St. Brigid's Church begins.

And, of course, the MTA sucks.

HoJo's Remembered

There's a nice remembrance of the Times Square Howard Johnson's on Greenwich Village Daily Photo. I had begun to forget how it looked. This brought it all back.

Inside the New House of Pizza & Calzone

The House of Pizza and Calzone, legendary pie place on Union Street in Brooklyn, is back open for business, after a month-long renovation.

I've reported earlier on the new hand-painted sign and the sliding glass-door frontage. Inside, it doesn't look anything like it did before. The joint boasts yards and yards of elbow room you never imagined was there before. Cramped before, the pizzeria is now ridiculously spacious. In a nod to the past, the old, boxy, gray-marble tables are still in use. Above them are some modern lighting fixtures, attached to warm brown walls. The bathrooms are big and on the fancy side for a slice-monger. The ceiling remains unfinished, as does a huge, brick-walled, additional dining room in the space, and a backyard patio. I'm guessing seating will top 200 when all is said and done.

And the pizza. Still good, still the same. Though I wish they'd dust the floors of the pizza ovens with semolina flour the way the old owners used to. Just a suggestion, guys.

Outside, a shiny black town car with tinted windows, and a shiny black SUV with tinted windows were idling, waiting for their pies. I'm not saying anything.

Billy Stein's 360 Smith Defense Takes Absurdish Turn

It seems there is nothing developer Billy Stein will not try to keep his precious Oliver House, aka 360 Smith, just the way it is: 70-feet high and completely unlike everything in the surrounding Carroll Gardens neighborhood.

Stein was stopped in his tracks by the recent "narrow streets" zoning amendment which dictates that structures on certain CG streets (including 360's) not exceed 55 feet in height. Stein could have proceeded with his nasty monstrosity if he had completed 50% of his foundation, but the DOB decreed he had finished but 20%. Stein pleaded his case at an Aug. 28 Community Board 6 Public Land Use Meeting, where he was about as popular as a porcupine as a balloon convention. He was turned down. The board's recommendation was then passed on to the Board of Standards and Appeals, which reviewed the case yesterday.

Stein doesn't really speak at these meetings. He always talks through a legal mouthpiece. The lucky puppets this time were Deirdre Carson and structural engineer Neil Wexler of Wexler Associates. And they were a hoot, by all accounts!

Wexler argument to the board was that the foundation is already completed. That's right! It's done! What foundation, you may ask. Why, the subway tunnel itself, the one that lies below 360 Smith! The tunnel will help support the building and is thus its built-in foundation, handily built by the City a century ago.

Are you laughing yet? Isn't it just amazing when corporate types start telling, off-the-wall crazy lies? You just can't believe your ears.

Wacky Wexler—who has been described to me as looking like he didn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, even as he was saying them—also said that the building had two foundations: one being the ready-made subway tunnel; the second being the pile foundation that Stein was actually building.

The board was furnished with a mountain of evidence and materials from the community groups opposing 360, causing the body to schedule another hearing on the matter for Oct. 28, where anything might happen. Anything, that is, other than Stein actually backing down or ever acknowledging that there's absolutely no reason for him to press on in his idiot quest except greed, conceit, arrogance and thorough pigheaded stubbornness.

(Thanks to Pardon Me for Asking for the picture.)

Silver Lining

Is there any silver lining to the current financial meltdown?

Yes, reports the New York Sun. "The era in which Manhattanites could find two, three, sometimes even four retail banking outlets on the same city block could be ending, according to a number of retail brokers who are readying themselves for a shedding of banking outlets caused by the crisis in the financial sector. Hundreds of thousands of square feet of available commercial space could be hitting the market once the dust settles on Wall Street."

No Bank of America at every intersection? No Chase signs lighting up the night? Well, hallelujah!

Progress Doesn't Want Me to Do My Job

As I say in my blog "profile," I make a living as a writer. A goodly part of that living is in the field of journalism. And a good deal of that is feature articles. Which means interviews. Phone interviews. In-person interviews. But interviews. And I don't know any reporter that takes shorthand anymore, or remembers quotes from memory, so interviews mean a tape recorder.

Progress does not appear to favor my line of work—and I'm not talking about the long, slow death of print news—though that is a worrisome fact of my life. I mean the disappearance of the apparatus that allows me to do my job. A year of so again, my old Sony cassette recorder which I use on interviews finally gave out. I had had it for 15 years. Nice piece of machinery. I went to a Best Buy to purchase another. After questioning a few clerks as to where I might find tape recorders (and who all thought I was talking about video recorders), a wiser worker led me to an obscure corner of the basement level where a couple cassette recorders, encased in plastic, hung on a wall. They could have been phonograph needles, so remote was their location, so un-sought-after were they.

Lately, meanwhile, I have had some trouble finding cassette tapes to put in that tape recorder. Some locations of the big chains, like Duane Reade and Rite Aid, don't carry them (thought Staples dependably stocks them). In the past, such tapes could always be found in the school/office supplies section. Often then were displayed in the racks by the cash register. Moreover, many corner bodegas could be counted on to have one or two on the shelf. No more. People don't make tapes anymore—voice, music or otherwise. And again, people think I'm asking for video cassette tapes when I ask for audio tapes. Everyone, it seems, owns a video recorder. Nobody owns an audio recorder.

And it gets more difficult. For phone interviews, one needs a small, rubber suction-cup device. The cup is applied to the phone receiver and the attached cord is plugged into a specific hole in the tape recorder. By this method, an interview is recorded for later transcribing. Used to be, Radio Shack always had these in stock. Last week, however, I went in search of one (they cost about $4) and went away empty-handed from three Radio Shack outlets. Each of the stores' clerks spoke doubtfully about whether the gizmos would ever be stocked again.

Next I'll be told that pencils and notepads are being phased out. What is going on? Is the paraphernalia of journalism doomed to go the way of the tools of bookbinding and blacksmithing? Is this a vast plot by conservative corporations to defang the Fourth Estate by depriving them of basic equipment? Anybody know where rubber suction cup thingies can be found out there? I think I better take a case.

Some Stuff That's Interesting

Developers defile Sheepshead Bay landmark Lundy's.

Coney Island developer/destroyer Joe Sitt puts on his old disingenuous act. Again.

Lehman Brothers sure left the building quickly.

Jamaica's Chapel of the Sisters is restored.

Landlords are crazy and evil. Some moreso.

Daytime Neon

The Dublin House tavern on 79th Street sends out a blinkin' beacon that it is open for business day and night. Because it is open for business day and night. Even 9:30 AM, when this film was taken. Don't really need neon at 9:30 AM, but...

Katz's Hidden Largesse

If you hit Katz's Delicatessen late one night after a round of Lower East Side carousing and don't have the jack for a sandwich and a beverage, don't sweat it. It's hard to spot right way, but at the back of the cavernous eatery is this unique silver, Art Deco apparatus. It dispenses free water out of three faucets. Just grab a glass from one of the three shiny shelves and you're in business.

I've never seen a piece of work like this anywhere else in the City, and I think it's pretty safe to say this is the only example of its type in town. Belongs in the Smithsonian, as far as I'm concerned. Or the Cooper-Hewitt.

Ghost Sign

The shadow of this old coffee shop sign, at the corner of 28th and Sixth in Manhattan, lives on for the time being.

New York at Night

Roma Pizza at the corner of Delancey and Essex.

Liquor Bar

I don't care how young this Lower East Bar is, or how vacuously trendy. Any tavern that advertises itself "Liquor Bar" is cool in my book.

House of Pizza & Calzone Makes Sign By Hand!

Back in late August, when the owner of Brooklyn's House of Pizza & Calzone was taking down the shop's cheesy, but beloved old awning in preparation of a massive redo, he was cagey about what sort of signage would take the awning's place. One feared the worst (that is, a run-of-the-mill, "dignified," gentrification-special, cloth awning of either bright red or deep green).

What a surprise and relief, then, to pass down Union Street today and see the pizzeria had gone the very appealing, but rarely traveled, hand-painted-sign route. Over a coat of chocolate-brown paint applied directly to the building's old brickface, has been painted, in cream-colored letters, "The Famous House of Pizza & Calzone." The first four words are small and in cursive, with "Pizza" and "Calzone" dominating the eye.

I know a lot of criticisms can be made against this approach: that it trucks in faux nostalgia, is precious and chases after the bourgeois crowd. But just think of the other ways they could have gone with the signage. If it was impossible to keep the old sign, I think this is much the preferable option.

Rising on Howard Johnson's Grave

Here's how things are at the former site of the last standing Howard Johnson's in New York City, the ancient one that lived on Times Square at Broadway and 46th. The nasty steel thing is to be an American Eagle Outfitters, a fairly big one by the looks of it. At least it's not another skyscraper.

Goodbye, Yankee Stadium

Yankee Stadium, the House That Ruth Built, saw its last days of working life this week, and will now yield to the House That (apparently) Taxpayers (illegally) Built. More greed in a City currently crippled by widespread greed.

Here are some accounts of the grand old stadium's final days.

The New York Times allowed all kinds of non-reporters to submit their memories of the stadium, including Paul Simon, the guy who wrote "Where Have You Gone, Joe DiMaggio?"; that relentless Yankee-wannabe Billy Crystal (we know you love the Yankees, Billy, now will you drop it?); New Yawk actress and director Penny Marshall; and still uncharged war criminal Henry Kissinger.

George Steinbrenner shares his Yankee Stadium memories with the New York Post. Is the moment he decided to tear the thing down to further line his pockets one of those memories? "The new ballpark with its design replicates the original 1923 stadium," he writes. "It is beautiful and really befits the team. Yankee Stadium is the cathedral of baseball, and it was most important to us in the design that we recognized the history, roots and legacy of our franchise. Our fans will love it, and that is so important to me. The field and its dimensions are exactly the same as the old stadium. The amenities will be great even down to the fact that you can go to a concession stand and buy a hot dog and still be able to watch the action on the field. It's going to be incredible." Asshole.

Mike Lupica's take in The Daily News.

Newsday notes bitterly that the stadium was unaccountably passed over many times by The National Register of Historic Places and the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission. Politics anyone? A few well-place calls by Steinbrenner? I'll say it again: Asshole. Asshole for the ages.

A Good Sign: Thunder Lingerie

I know its a peep show, but it's still a great sign. More in the character of an old Garment District business, than an XXX concern in the Financial District. And get the American flag! Patriotic smut!

The name of the business is curious. If I were in the lingerie game (and it's arguable that that's actually the game these guys are in), I'd go for a more delicate, ladylike name, not "Thunder." Can't beat the "And More," though. There are whole worlds contained within that "And More."

La Pizzetta Set to Open in Brooklyn

The new restaurant in the former Soju space on Atlantic in Brooklyn—which was once the original space of La Bouillabaisse, looks set to open in its latest form: La Pizzetta, a brick oven pizzeria. A new red awning is in place, some decal doohickeys showing the boot profile of Italy are in the windows, and a sign says the place is looking for staff. Thus, the pizza-saturated area's pizza-to-people ratio goes even higher.

Atlantic Gets Literary

As with Trader Joe's below, here is another Atlantic Avenue mercantile promise kept. The 12th Street Books folks, who have moved to Brooklyn, will open their new store on Atlantic near Henry Street tomorrow, Sunday, Sept. 21. They appear to be calling themselves the Atlantic Bookshop.

Trader Joe's Opening Sept. 26

I post way too much about Trader Joe's.

Anyway, there's a sign on the door of the Brooklyn location now saying the outlet will finally open on Friday, Sept. 26. Late September, just like they promised.

Neighborhood Weirdness

Astro-turf, the nifty little Smith Street antique shop that specializes in kitschy '50s and early '60s stuff, has been closed for half a year with no sign of reopening. The shop shut down to execute some brick-work repair, to judge by the DOB records. I assumed the owners ran into trouble with the authorities somewhere and that's why the door remained shut.

I learned otherwise recently. A local shopkeeper who does business across the street told me the elderly lady who owns Astro-turf finished work on the place long ago, but has chosen to let it lay dormant. That the hipster shop was owned by an older woman came as a surprise in itself. I always thought the young women who worked inside owned it. Turns out they were only employees and have been allowed to go their own way in the months Astro-turf has been shuttered.

At least this is the story that I was handed, and the guy seemed to know his stuff. In the meantime, where am I supposed to get my retro cocktail shakers?

For Your Viewing Enjoyment

Ladies and gentlemen, the antique wooden escalators at Macy's Herald Square.

I'm Comin' After You, Moishe!

For a couple years now, I've pointed out that the facade and sign of Moishe's Bake Shop—one of the last true vestiges of old Second Avenue—has been in sad shape. In particular, I've warned that the small part of the sign that read "Second Avenue," just under "Moishe's," was hanging by a thread and was destined to fall to the ground. (See photo far below.)

No one heeded those calls. (It's a pretty safe bet that the owners of Moishe's don't read many blogs.) And sure enough—the "Second Avenue" has now fallen off. Who knows where it is. Let's hope the owners caught it and have it stored somewhere. But the storefront is still spattered with graffiti, and the awning is one of the most tattered I've ever seen. It's never extended. I doubt it works anymore. I love Moishe's. But for the love of Mike, have a little self-respect.

A Little Contrast

On E. 58th Street. Giddily incongruous or horrifyingly discordant? I'm willing to go either way.

Guest Item

I don't usually devote space to full items from other blogs, but Mr. Kurt Strahm, disconsolate blogger from Williamsburg, and author of Restless, matches my feelings about the crash of Wall Street so well, and with such trenchant humor, that I can't help but reprint his words here. Enjoy. (The picture is also his.)

Wall Street crash is great news!

The crash may be bad news for the High Stakes 3-Card Monte players, and the people who serve them, like chauffeurs, sex workers, artists, etc.

But it's great news for me. All the Wall Street workers will cancel their luxury condo plans and retreat to the hills of Connecticut, where they will break into the wine cellar and start guzzling investment grade vintage like it's Mad Dog 20/20, then break out their "survival gear" -- bulletproof vests with car alarms attached to the shoulders, chrome shotguns, barrels of pharmaceuticals, and a virtual U.N. of blow up sex dolls -- and wait till their testosterone level has climbed back into the red, then go outside and skeet shoot their investment grade Franklin Mint plate collection.

Once they and their money have left the city, it will be left to the rest of us, the sullen zombies who lurk in the shadows fighting pigeons for scraps.

All the new luxury hotels and condos in the Bowery will turn into fetid flophouses for down & out condo brokers, ranting dementedly about the amenities they used to offer: "Live chinchilla shoe buffer in the lobby! Squawk!! Fresh virgin's milk spa on the deck! Eeep! Creative Artists Agency screening room just off the lobby, which is not a reproduction, but the actual Palace of the Swiss Guards' Fighting Eunuchs XXV-Corps, purchased from the Vatican in 1942! Squawk!!"


Meanwhile all the luxury condos going up in Williamsburg will be turned into chicken farms, recycling centers, and solar powered hydroponic farms.

This means people like me, whose hands are untainted by money and not afraid of real work (like typing this post) will finally be able to live like royalty.

I plan to move into Karl Fischer's Ikon, pictured on top, where the bottom floor of the ant farm will be my bowling alley and driving range. I also plan to move into his NV building, pictured just above. There's something about its "plastic castle" look that appeals to me; not only does it afford an easily defensible, crenelated roof line, but it's close to the East River, and "tap water" will soon be a memory, like "FDIC insurance" and "government."

How will I pay for food? That's easy -- pretty soon employers in China, Russia and India will be outsourcing their jobs, and that $3 an hour will make me a king compared to envious neighbors outside my NV castle. All I have to do is figure out how to stay alive till those jobs show up.

You know, I bet there's a ton of food in the basement of that 20 Bayard condo, above right, where all those well fed Top Chef contestants are holed up...

I also like what Kurt says about the GOP. And now you know my politics.

How Are Neighborhood Landmarks Made?

Many of the shops and restaurants I write about on this blog have been around so long that I and everyone else take them for granted. The Old Town Bar, for instance, has always been there, has always looked like that, etc. But each one of these icons was once a humble, unassuming place not unlike many another business. When Old Town Bar opened, there were a lot of bars that looked like it, served similar food and drink, and attracted a similar clientele. Only its longevity and the disappearance of those competitors have made it special. (Well, that, and the fact that it's just damned great.)

Because things move much more rapidly in New York these days, and businesses stay around for only 20 years at best, it's hard to find contemporary examples of this phenomenon. But they exist. Once such restaurant that, in my opinion, slowly and quietly made the transition from mundane to mainstay is Cucina di Pesce, the basement-level Italian joint on W. 4th Street in the East Village.

I don't know how old Cucica di Pesce is, but it's been there at last two decades, because it was packing them in in 1988, when I lived in the East Village. I assume it opened a few years prior to that. Back then, there were plenty of poor, struggling young folks who lived in the area, and they flocked for the cheap prices and free pre-dinner mussels. (Those mussels often constituted my dinner.) In the years since, I've gone less often, but I regularly have occasion to walk past the eatery and it is always buzzing. It's trade has never fallen off, as far as I can see—maybe because the prices are still good and the mussels are still free.

Every now and then, they slap a new coat of paint on the walls, but the restaurant has nonetheless developed a faded charm. It feels old. The walk-down basement set-up is a classic, very Villagey set-up. The dining space feels, looks and smells like a million candles have been burned over the years. One expects there's an old lady stirring a pot of sauce in the back. The dishes they serve are somewhat old hat. As Italian food has become innovative and trendy, Cucina has stuck by it's somewhat staid, but still very good bill of fare.

Cucina found a formula that worked, stayed with it, didn't draw a lot of attention to itself, never asked to the the Next Big Thing, and kept on keepin' on. It never committed suicide by trying to expand too quickly and become a mini-chain with branches across Manhattan. And that's how you become a neighborhood landmark. I'd say that in ten years, it would be one of the places I review in my Eater column "Who Goes There?" except that I know who goes there. I always have.

Farewell, Bastards!

I have no love for Wall Street firms. And I have no doubt that the blue-shirted, shiny-tied, steak-wolfing, Cristal-swilling, unscrupulous, book-cooking, condo-buying, debt-incurring, don't-regulate-me-I'm-fine, masters-of-the-universe, greedhead, asshole economy-screwer-uppers at Lehman Brothers and Merrill Lynch got exactly what was coming to them when their age-old companies went poof in the night. And I have even less doubt that their fast-and-loose, bonus-getting shell games will result in a horrific economic chain reaction that will result in either me, my wife, my friends or someone I know losing their job or pension or 401-K or home due to no fault of their/our own.

But this blog is about old New York, and the parts of it that are going, albeit not quietly, into that good night. And Wall Street investment firms, whatever else they may be, are old business in New York. Many are historic. And they deserve their due when they die. Sort of. And when you think of, they disappeared for the same reasons small old companies like Gertel's Bakery, McHale's and Gotham Book Mart did: unchecked, unexamined, fuck-everyone-but-me greed.

Henry Lehman, the founder of Lehman Brothers, died of yellow fever in 1855, only five years after he created the famous firm—in Montgomery, Alabama, of all places. Fortunately, he had his two Bavarian immigrant brothers, Emanuel and Mayer, to carry on. Carry on they did, doing a lot of cotton trading, which was big stuff at the time. Lehman Brothers moved to New York in 1958, and helped to found the New York Cotton Exchange in 1870. Emanuel's son Philip took over from 1901 to 1925, and collected a lot of art in his spare time. Philip's son Robert succeeded him, guiding the firm through The Depression, inheriting his father's art, and adding to the collection. He had a solo exhibition at the Louvre in 1957, and donated 3,000 works to the Met when he died in 1969. After that, no Lehman ran the company, and things were never the same. Lots of infighting and nastiness.

Compared to Lehman Brothers, Merrill Lynch was a mere baby. The firm was founded in 1914 by Charles E. Merrill, who was joined a little while later by his friend (awww, friends!) Edmund C. Lynch. In 1916, Winthrop H. Smith, who had a much less interesting last name, joined the firm. The firm bought Pathé Exchange, which became RKO Pictures. They later sold it to Joseph P. Kennedy and Cecil B. DeMille.

Lynch died in 1938. He was only 52. After that the firm bore no common or additional names. It was only Merrill Lynch & Co., out of respect to the late founder. Merrill survived until 1956. According to sources, he was one of the few who predicted the Stock market crash of 1929, and had tried to convince President Coolidge (good luck!) that trouble was a-comin'. In preparation, he divested many of the firm's holdings before the Depression hit. The company also became the first on Wall Street to publish an annual fiscal report in 1941, in an attempt to demonstrate to the public that it was above board. Merrill also published a "Declaration of Policy," which included the nine precepts. Among them: "The interests of our customers must come first" and "Investigate—then Invest." Hmmm. Guess the recent execs misplaced those precepts.

In his personal life, Merrill was known as "Good Time Charlie Merrill," a man-about-town who married three times. One thing for certain that he did right: he gave birth to poet James Ingram Merrill (1926-1995).

Lipstick on a Boar's Head

The conspiracy theory recently propounded by this blog regarding the mysterious F. Martinella Deli appears to have been a bullseye.

To recap: Martinella is moving into a big space on Court Street in downtown Brooklyn—a space once rumored to become a Boar's Head deli. Signs said "since 1949," but no one had ever heard of the Martinella company. A Lost City reader then came up with this theory:

Boar's Head:
CEO: Robert S. Martin
President: Michael Martella
Martin + Martella = Martinella

To this, I added my own bit of detective work as to the initial "F." in "F. Martinella": Boar's Head was founded in 1903 by Frank Brunckhorst. As in F. Brunckhorst.

I walked by the Martinella site today, where men were busy at work. I asked one worker if the place was to be a Boar's Head deli. "Yeah, basically," he said, adding it would open next week.

1949, my eye.

Trader Joe's Brooklyn Has a Sign and a Half

Trader Joe's Brooklyn has a sign. And a half. The chain has taken advantage of the vertical corner signage space left over by Independence Bank and slapped its logo on either side. As of Tuesday morning, they still need to get the "Trader" up on the eastern side.

Burly men were busy loading in boxes through the front entrance. Progress has been made, but a lot more must be done in the next two weeks if the store is to open at the end of September as promised.

Now, if they could just fix that clock at the bottom of the corner sign. It has read 8:45 for a year now.

A Good Sign: Typewriters Adding Machines

Typewriters. Adding Machines. Adding Machines! Sold! Rented! Repaired! Rebuilt!!

But don't look for any of that here. You see from the windows that this is a location for Papa John's wretched prefabricate pizza. Somebody ought to rebuild those pizzas.

On Grand near Leonard in Williamsburg.

Old Joe's, New Joe's

A reader writes in lamenting the fate of Joe's Shoe Repair, a standby on Fifth Avenue between President and Carroll in Park Slope. The original had a lovely hand-painted sign ("Do you have shoe problems? See Joe!"), and this reader feared that when the shop moved a few doors down the block a few months ago, that would be the end of said sign. That prediction appears to have come true. The new store has a bright red cloth awning, looking just like every bright red cloth awning you ever saw. But Joe, whoever he was, may no longer be involved. His name has been dropped and the shop is now called the rather-less-charming Fifth Avenue Shoe Repair. But cheer up: there's still something offbeat about the new awning. It reads, on the side, "Key Made." Just one. One key made. Bring in an order for two keys to be made, and you're shit out of luck.

Proposed Alice and Agate Courts Historic District to Be Reviewed by Landmarks Commission

The Landmarks Commission will on Sept. 16 review a sweet little piece of Bed-Stuy called Alice and Agate Courts and consider the tiny area for the status of historic district. Two pretty-as-a-picture, one-block sets of rows house sitting at right angles to Atlantic Avenue, between Albany and Kingston Avenues, the courts were built by Swiss-born metal-stamping magnate Florian Grosjean in the 1880s. (Agate was named for a tool of his trade, Alice for his daughter. Agate Court was built first; read into that what you may.)

The quiet area made the news in 2006, when, reported the Times, a parvenu developer named Shlomo Menashe bought the property "then designated as 412 Herkimer Street, which backs up directly onto Agate Court, separated only by a retaining wall that appears to have been added after the original houses. He then received permission from Marty Markowitz, the borough president, to rename his Herkimer plot “19 Agate Court.”" Jeez, if he really wanted to be part of Agate Court, why didn't he buy on house on the street to begin with?

Interestingly, the Commission's boundary descriptions for the district would seem to include Mensche's plot. (Marty Markowitz at work again?)

Also on the docket:

*The Art Deco/Viennese Secessionist-style Wheatsworth Factory, at 444 E. 10th Street, which was built in 1927 as a biscuit factory.

*The Public National Bank, at 106 Avenue C and 7th Street, built in the early 1920s.

*Fire Engine Company No. 53, 175 East 104th Street, Manhattan.

Have You Seen the Donut House, the Donut House, the Donut House...

The Donut House coffee shop on Court Street in Brooklyn closed back in early August for "two weeks" of renovation. Now, on Sept. 15, a worker inside the site said the diner should be back up and running "next week." The interior doesn't look so radically different. Cleaner, sure. But counter and booths all in the same locations. And brown remains the reigning color, though a deeper shade than before. There also appears to be a tin ceiling. I don't recall the old Donut House having that.

Status Quo

The scaffolding at Carroll Gardens' Raccuglia & Son Funeral Parlor remains in place after a year. I'm just saying...

Calexico to Take Schnack Space

Calexico, a purveyor of "gourmet Mexican food," will take over the Brooklyn space on Union Street near Columbia lately occupied by the once-beloved mini-burger joint Schnack. This, according to a new sign in the window.

To drive home the fact of their coming arrival, the Calexico boys used a Sept. 13 street fair as an excuse to park a cart outside the Schnack space, and serve burritos and such to all and sundry during the morning and afternoon. The man in charge said the restaurant will be open in a month. Up till now, Calexico has only possessed two trucks, which roam around Manhattan dolling out tacos. The permanent location's menu will feature tacos, burritos, "rolled" quesadillas and various other goodies.

Calexico should be welcomed by oldtimers in the neighborhood, who were disappointed by the high-end Mexican restaurant Alma down the street, complaining that Almoa didn't serve any kind of Mexican food they had ever heard of.

Shed Stripped Away From New House of Pizza & Calzone

The owners of the House of Pizza and Calzone in Carroll Gardens, who are renovating the half-century-old pizzeria, stripped away on Sept. 13 the plywood shed that has been masking their efforts since late August.

By the looks of it, pretty fair progress has been made on the joint in the last two weeks. The new facade will be all glass, with a glass door to the left, and a sliding glass unit, four panels wide, to the right. This, I imagine, will give the place an airy new feel. The new counter remains to the right as you walk in, the customer alley to the left. Some tiny halogen lights hang above. And a red brick arch in the back leads to a new dining area that reaches into the former backyard of the property. It will be a new House altogether, to be sure.

Your Daily Hamberger Factory Destruction Photo: All Gone

Naught but rubble after the week of Sept. 8-12 at the former site of the Hamberger Christmas display factory, on the corner of Hicks and Warren in Cobble Hill West.

Somewhere, automated elves and reindeer, mothballed in storage until the yuletide, are shedding a tear.

Now commences the digging of a pit in which to place the foundation of Condos Sur La BQE.

Lost City Named One of "100 Awesome Blogs for History Junkies"

Best Colleges Online.com recently rolled out something they called "100 Awesome Blogs for History Junkies." Lost City was among the 100 and I'd just like to say it's awesome to be awesome. Thanks guys!

Lost City Asks "Who Goes to Gene's Restaurant?"

Gene's, on W. 11th Street, is, for me, the definition of the local Village restaurant, the side street place that sits in the middle a quiet block and is basically known and patronized by people in a few-block radius. Cozy, familial, reassuring. And a near extinct breed. I've decided not to hold against it the unbearable sandy mussels I have there a few years back.

Here the link to the Eater piece.

New York at Night

The Joe Jr. diner in Greenwich Village.

Lost City: Albany Edition: Lodge's

B. Lodge & Co., a old-style department store, calls itself the oldest business in Albany. As with most of these sort of ancient department stores, the interior is no great shakes. Ugly, in fact, with racks and racks of modest goods. But the exterior is a dream. And there's no mistaking it's called Lodge's, is there?

It was founded in the 1860s and run by the the founding family for nearly 100 years. The next owners bought the business in 1960 and ran the store for 37 years. After that, an employee, Jack Yonally, took over. He's still there. He smartly bought the building, renovated it, created a couple apartments upstairs for rental and bought neighboring buildings as well, renting them out to businesses. Lodge's is now the "largest provider of school-uniform clothing in the capital district."

Quite a Corner

This corner at 22nd Street and Broadway in the Flatiron District, now home to the faux-antique charms of Restoration Hardware, has seen its fair share of action in the past. The building is as old as hell without drawing too much attention to the fact. It was built in 1861 and soon after opened as the Glenham Hotel. Madison Square was hotel central back then, home to the grand Fifth Avenue and swank Hoffman House, which sat side by side on Fifth Avenue between 23rd and 25th, and entertained prominent Republicans and Democrats, respectively, as well as plenty of actors and sporting types.

Horace Greeley conducted his campaign for the Presidency from the Glenham in 1872. In the mid-1860s, Jerry Thomas, the most famous bartender of his day, and the first American to publish a guide to mixing cocktails (an American invention that Americans were throwing back with reckless abandon back then), opened up one of his last saloons at this address. It was damned popular, and Thomas did well, buying himself more diamond studs for his ascots. It's a good bet that the most famous men of the day spent a good amount of time here.

Thomas' tavern closed in the mid-1870s and soon after he went broke and died. After that, the fortunes of 935-937 Broadway grew darker. On April 2, 1882, Cornelius Jeremiah Vanderbilt Jr., son of shipping magnate Commodore Vanderbilt, shot himself at the Glenham after a night of drinking and gambling. The Commodore, a mean old bastard, has disowned all by one of his sons, William, upon his death in 1877. Cornelius Jeremiah and three daughters contested the will, but failed after a year of trying (though he did reportedly get a settlement of an extra million). Nothing like being disinherited by the richest man in American, who also just happens to be your daddy, to send your spirits spiraling to the gutter. Compounding Cornelius Jeremiah's troubles was the epileptic fits he had suffered for 25 years.

Faded Imprint

Few names are more redolent of New York's glorious literary past than Scribner's, the high-brow, adventurous published house that first published Fitzgerald, Hemingway and Wolfe. You can find faded remnants of the firm here and there around the city, most notably at the old headquarters on Fifth and 48th.

Here's a lesser known relic. Walk down Ninth Avenue between 44th and 43rd and look up and to the left. Huge, but faint white letters spell out Scribner's on the side of 315 43rd Street (though the "S" and "I" are now obscured by windows). This building, erected in 1907, used to be Scribner's printing plant and warehouse. Scribner's sold it 1955, but 53 years later the sign stubbornly clings on. The building is now home to the offices of several theatre companies, including Manhattan Theatre Club and the Mint Theatre Company. The Mint has, interestingly enough, performed little known plays by Thomas Wolfe and Ernest Hemingway in recent years.

A Good Sign: Mee Sum Cafe

At 26 Pell Street in Chinatown. Can't be sure of its age. Old school dim sum. Nice sign.

A Good Sign: McGraw Hill

Not a sign, per se. But not not a sign. The company has been proclaimed its Art Deco greatness from the 33rd story of 33 W. 42nd Street since 1931. It certainly adds a touch of dash the the otherwise ugly midtown skyline.

Messages from (Slightly) on High

This post is way off-topic for this blog. But the bulletin board rectangle thingies attached to fast food franchises in suburbs and at highway waysides have always attracted my annoyed attention. I find their consumer messages alternately off-putting, unintentionally funny and cryptic. Some are like roadside Haikus, they are so oddly and sparingly worded. Others provoke a visceral reaction. I'll never forget the Burger King sign in Greensboro, North Carolina, that asked me "Have You Tried Our Cheeseburger Salad?" It that a thing to ask a decent person?

This Arby's lives in upstate New York somewhere. I forget exactly where. I don't go to Arby's, so I have no idea what they're talking about when they say "It's Back Orange Swirl U Pick $5.95." What's an Orange Swirl? Did it used to be at Arby's and then go away? If so, why? And why did it come back? Were a lot of people waiting for it to come back? And what do I "pick" if I get one (assuming the product in question is actually called Orange Swirl). I can't pick the color. It's orange, right? That's part of the deal. I'm not picking the size, because the thing is $5.95. One price only, so one size only, right? Do I pick the nature and shape of the swirl? Or are they saying
simply that I can pick whether to order one or not? But I know that already, though.

I could, of course, check the internet and find out what the Orange Swirl is all about in a couple seconds. But I prefer to be confounded by the sign. One needs a little mystery in one's life.

A Good Sign: Fanelli Cafe

In the hall of fame of New York neon signs, to be sure.

What's Good About the 14th Street F Line Subway Station

More than any other Manhattan subway station I know, the otherwise grimy, depressing 14th Street F line station evokes the subway world of yesteryear. This is because the MTA, for whatever reason (laziness, sentimentality) has left intact tiled signs pointing passengers to the long-defunct Brooklyn-Manhattan Transit (BMT) subway, the Independent Subway (IND), which was run by the City itself, and the Hudson and Manhattan Railroad (H & M, long before the clothing store), which ran between New York and New Jersey.

From Warsaw to Saigon

Nobody out there seems to care about the now-gone Quality Meat Market in Williamsburg, judging by the anemic response to my postings about the old Polish butcher. Thought this place was a classic!

Well, that's not going to stop my continued reportage on the steep decline in fine meat products in north Brooklyn. A Lost City reader tells me the space is to become a Vietnamese restaurant called (yawn) Saigon Grill. Yeah. City needs another Vietnamese restaurant, right?

Your Daily Hamberger Factory Destruction Photo: Whoa, What Happened?

The construction workers at the site of the vanishing Hamberger Christmas display factory, at Hicks and Warren in Brooklyn, went to freaking town yesterday Friday, demolishing nearly an entire floor. This progress came as something of a shock after a week of slow going dismantling the main building. Can't be many more days left for the old girl.

Nice Conspiracy Theory

Many blogs, including this one, have been scratching their heads as to the origin of the F. Martinella Deli that is moving into a big space on Court Street in downtown Brooklyn. The signs in the window say the company was founded in 1949, but none of the borough's history buffs have heard of it.

Well, a sharp reader wrote in yesterday suggested a possible key to the mystery. Before the Martinella signs made an appearance, there was much scuttlebutt that the space would hold a Boar's Head deli. The reader points out, succinctly enough:

Boar's Head:
CEO: Robert S. Martin
President: Michael Martella
Martin + Martella = Martinella

To this bit of sleuthing I add this detail as to the initial "F." in "F. Martinella": Boar's Head was founded in 1903 by Frank Brunckhorst. As in F. Brunckhorst.

And that's about as clever as a corporation can get.

Your Daily Hamberger Factory Destruction Photo: Flattop

Nothing resembling a roof left on this baby. Two stories to go.

Nikos' Magazine Shop Is Dead; Long Live Nicky's?

So I walk to Sixth Avenue and 11th Street in the Village to the corner where Nikos Magazine and Smoke Shop used to stand until last month, just to look at the space and mourn a little bit. And what do I find but a brightly lit magazine shop, full of publications and looking very much in business, with a sign outside saying "Nicky's Smoke and Magazine Shop." WTF?

The young man in charge said Nikos is still retired. But the space is still a magazine shop and they've decided to retain what amounts to something like the shop's old name. (Nikos, by the way, never hung out a sign. Don't know why the new owners reversed the "Magazine" and "Smoke" in the name.) So Nikos' lives on, after a fashion, as Nicky's. Still a good selection of mags and newspapers inside. A lot cleaner, too. Hey, it's better than another Subway or Dunkin' Donuts.

A Good Sign: The Donut Pub

Terrible name. Good sign. On 14th Street.

Quality Meat Market Gone, or Getting Better?

In July, Lost City reported that the old Polish butcher Quality Meat Market in Williamsburg was shuttered and didn't look likely to open. However, we could dig up little confirmation as to its future.

Well, matters looked still grimmer today. A Lost City scout was by the address yesterday and reports thusly:

It's probably gone, permits were pulled from the DOB and posted in the window, alt 2 (expansion). Contractors on site, gut demo well underway, they provided no info on who they're working for or what tenant is going to be moving in after renovations are complete (former or new).

That would seem to be the end of Quality Met Market. Or is it? A look at the job action filed with the DOB on June 2 tells this: "PROPOSED HORIZONTAL ENLARGEMENT & INTERIOR RENOVATION AT FRIST FLOOR. PLUMBING AND PARTITION WORK AS PER PLAN. INSTALL KITCHEN EQUIPMENT & EXHAUST PROPOSED A/C SYSTEM. NO CHANGE IN USE, EGRESS OR OCCUPANCY.

So, does that mean the butchers are coming back? Hard to say. A previous job filing in 1999 was submitted by one Jozef Zurawski, which sounds like a nice Polish name. The new filing was submitted by Shiming Tam, which, uh, does not sound like a nice Polish name. Can anyone shed light on this?

43-Story Headstone

On the site of the late lamented McHale's, at 46th and 8th, the 43-story Platinum condominium tower is almost complete.

And don't it just make you sick.

Chinatown's Ancient Nom Wah Tea Parlor Closed by Dept. of Health

Oh, horrors. The ancient and right honorable Nom Wah Tea Parlor on Doyers Street—a piece of ur-Chinatown if there ever was one—has been closed by the Department of Health.

The landmark, occupying a place of the former "Bloody Angle" of Doyer Street since 1920, calls itself the first dim sum parlor in Chinatown, and it probably is. If not, its certainly the oldest ones still around. The facade's a classic, little changed over the years. One could imagine an opium den being tucked in back.

The DOH notice is fresh: it was posted on Sept. 2.

Your Daily Hamberger Factory Destruction Photo: Jagged Facade

The facade of the old Hamberger Christmas display factory is looking less and less like itself as workers on the Hicks Street site slowly chip away at the former Face of Christmas Past. A worker out front is wielding a hose, washing down the local parked cars, which are continually coated with construction dust.

What's the Point?

Mark Scharfman, the landlord of the stubby building that once held Le Madeleine on W. 43rd near Eighth, instigated a lot of tsuris among theatre- and food-lovers last spring by insisted that the 29-year-old French bistro get out, out, out so he cold tear the building down and erect a tower!

So what's the jerk replacing Le Madeleine with? Another French bistro! A bright red awning for Le Petit Un Deux Trois hangs at the address now and looks to open soon. Now, I'm happy the space went to as nice a local business as Un Deux Trois, which has been serving up good food and civility on the other side of Broadway for years. But it has to make you wonder by the landlord insisted on kicking Le Madeleine to the curb. Was it personal between the landlord and the restaurant owner, Tony Edwards, who always insisted Scharfman couldn't legally tear the building down. Did the economy foil Scharfman's plans? Or maybe Un Deux Trois just offered more money.

Meanwhile, there's nothing on the Le Madeleine blog about Edwards' promise to reopen, despite reader comments of commiseration and encouragement that continue to this day.

Starbucks Shaken

Everyone knows Starbucks is hitting hard times, with hundreds of stores closing nationwide. (Time Out New York, with typical hyperbole, said it was "dead." We should be so lucky.) But must the corporation let everything go? For instance, is it too much to ask that the letters in this sign on 42nd Street be set aright? The sign looks like it was literally shaken up by the company's recent reversal of fortune. What do they stick these sign up with, anyway? Pushpins?

Your Daily Hamberger Factory Destruction Photo: Fresh at It

After a long weekend, the boys at the Hamberger Christmas display factory were fresh at it, hacking and pounding away at the century-old building on Warren and Hicks Streets. By the looks of their comparatively slow work on the main building, the structure was put together fairly solidly. It's brick-by-brick time.

House of Pizza & Calzone Wasn't Built in a Day

When the House of Pizza and Calzone in Carroll Gardens was closed and wrapped up in tarp and plywood last week for a massive renovation, a sign outside read, "Closed for vacation. Will reopen Tuesday, Sept. 2."

Today, Sept. 1, it read "Closed for Renovation. Will reopen Sept. ?"

Everyone in the neighborhood knew that "Sept. 2" was wishful thinking, even with the furious pace the Calzone team was working at. The owners are turning everything upside-down. The inside is gutted, save for the pizza ovens; you can see clear through to the back yard. The face is being cleaned and spruced up. The cornice is already repainted. Old iron pillars near the front were replaced with steel I-beams. I'd say Sept. 22 is the earliest they should be thinking. If that.

What Happened to Lisle?

While driving back to the City from upstate recently, I passed through a hamlet called Lisle. It's on route 79 right before you reach interstate 81. It's an old, compact Main Street-type town, founded in 1791. Some such villages are well kept up, picture perfect Americana. Some are sad and down on their luck. Lisle was not just sad. It was inconsolable.

Rarely have I seen a town so forlorn, so resigned to the forces of age and gravity. Not a building on the main drag, commercial or residential, was even in what you'd call decent condition. Lisle must be the peeling paint capital of New York State. One haunted house after another.

Some of the houses did appear to be lived in; others were boarded up. I could not ascertain whether any of the few businesses were actually in operation, though I did see some men loading furniture out of a used furniture shop. An "Arcade" obviously hadn't entertained a teenager in a decade or more. The Lisle Inn, possibly once the single hot spot in town, wasn't taking any comers. (The absolutely succinct sign, however, still hung outside. Nice image of a frosty mug.) Something called Miss Cathy's School of Dance seemed wildly incongruous in the circumstances. A dance studio in Lisle? What this town needs is an industrious hardware store.

I did some research. Lisle boasted a population of 4,393 back in 1830, but a legislative enactment divided the town into four parts, each constituting a new township. After that, the residents number only 1,558. Still, much better than today's 286. In 1835, it possessed three grist mills, twenty saw mills, one oil cloth mill, three fulling mills, three carding mills, one trip hammer or forging mill, three tanneries and two places where potash was made. It even had its own newspaper, the wonderfully named Lisle Gleaner.

The median household income in 2005 was $34,500, a good $15,000 less than the NYS average. One would think Lisle would be more prosperous that it is. It's two minutes from the interstate. A river runs nearby. The railroad crosses the town at three different points. So it's not exactly isolated. What happened to Lisle? The Depression? The flight of younger generations? That railroad stopped running? All of the above?