P & G Alive and Well in New Space

NY Barfly informs us that the P&G Cafe, which was forced to flee its longtime nesting ground at 73rd and Amsterdam earlier this year due to a rent increase, has successfully transplanted itself to 78th and Columbus.

The new digs on 78th and Columbus (in the old Evelyn Lounge space) are at least 3 times the size of the former haunt. The setup is not only an improvement of the old P&G; it’s a new bar altogether. They kept the dive spirit very much alive in the transfer, but still managed to spruce things up a bit. The space comes equipped with two pool tables, a small stage for live comedy and music, and a kitchen (soon to open). Their iconic old bar now serves as a shelf in one of the billiard rooms. If crusty old bars could talk.

What's more, the iconic signs are on their way back! How's that for good news?

Iconic Neon Gets Its Due in Paper of Record

The New York Times' Christopher Gray delves into the critical topic of the City's landmark neon signs and their preservation on a Feb. 19 piece. The subject is much in the news lately due to the removal of the widely familiar P&G Cafe sign at 73rd and Amsterdam. The sign was landmarked and, while the owners, who are moving their business uptown, had the right to remove the sign, they apparently did not follow exact City protocol in doing so.

Gray, one of my favorite Gray Lady scribblers, talks about many of the signs that Lost City has obsessed over for years, including the Dublin House, Russ & Daughters and Gringer Appliances. And he does some nifty homework.

Gray notes that, "of a sample of a dozen notable neon signs in Manhattan, the earliest appears to be from 1933: that of Dublin House, a bar at 225 West 79th Street. Its sign was commissioned by the lessee, the Dublin-born John P. Carway, for whom E. G. Clarke Inc. designed a great two-sided sign with a green harp, and “BAR” and “TAP ROOM” flashing on and off — a masterpiece in neon."

Finally, someone at the Paper of Record says what we all know: certain neon signs are masterpieces, and should be protected and cherished.

We also learn about Charles Karsch, a Yiddish-speaking immigrant, and a master of neon art. He created the signs for the White Horse Tavern, Gringer Appliances and P&G! That's like saying one architect was responsible for the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building and the Woolworth Building. There should be a statue of him somewhere in the City! How many hundreds of hours of joy has he brought to generations of New Yorkers?

Gray also discovers that the cost of restoring old neon is not an argument against doing it:

Mr. Friedman said that his firm was making more neon signs than ever. And there is plenty of neon innovation out there, like the tumbled letters of BAR that proclaim the Essex Street Alehouse on Essex near Houston Street, and the moody blue script of the Nightingale, a lounge on Second Avenue at 13th Street.

His firm restored both the Gringer and Russ & Daughters signs. Mr. Friedman says the cost of putting vintage neon to rights is not an argument against it. While an entirely new neon sign like Gringer’s would be about $20,000, he says restoring one much like it would cost about $10,000, roughly the same as an entirely new plastic one.

Some Stuff That's Interesting

The Day-O restaurant, long vacant on W. 12th, has finally been repossessed. [Eater]

Some guys from Austin bought the interior of the old Cedar Tavern. Why does New York keep shipping its treasure out of town? [Grub Street]

The owners of P&G Bar and Grill did quite follow procedure when removing their iconic neon sign. [City Room]

The mystery of the long-closed Two Boots restaurant on Avenue A dissected. [EV Grieve]

Neat pictures of the decaying (and landmarked) Samuel R. Smith Infirmary building on Staten Island. [Kingston Lounge]

The Peter Pan Donut & Pastry Shop celebrated. [The World According to Bitchcakes]

P & G Cafe Sign Takes a Ride

Reader Daniel Roberts sends along this mournful, but amazing picture of the P&G Cafe neon sign being carted away to its new home in a storage facility.

P & G Cafe: De-Signed

A watchful reader sent me these sad pictures of the Upper West Side's classic tavern, the P & G Cafe, which closed on Jan. 31. It has been shorn of it fabulous neon sign, as you can see.

Nothing left to do but wait until it reopens (hopefully, with sign) at its new location.

P&G to Remain Open One More Month

P&G Cafe, the 66-year-old tavern at 73rd and Amsterdam, was to have closed tonight, New Year's Eve. But word comes that it will stay open until Jan. 31. A call to the place confirmed this. (Sorry for the earlier misinformation.) The owner is still working on his projected relocation.

As for the sign, there's still no guarantee that it will follow the owner or be preserved. Hello, Museum of the City of New York? Hello, Smithsonian? Hello, MoMA? This sign is art. It's a cultural icon. It's a relic, as sure as an arrowhead. Save it!

As for the greedy landlord that has put P&G in this terrible position by kicking them to the curb, may you, your children, and your grandchildren have no luck in 2009 and beyond. May you invest all the money you get from your new tenant with someone like Bernie Madoff. May St. Peter's first question for you be, "Why did you do that to P&G?"

More News on the Soon-to-Be Bookish P & G Bar

The NY Observer has acted on the news first reported here that the classic Upper West Side tavern P&G Cafe will move to a new home at 78th and Columbus, a building that was once the lair of post-scandal Florodora girl Evelyn Nesbit.

Owner Steve Chahalis told the Observer—which has been on this story like a cheap suit since the beginning—a few more details. The new location is huge: 4,300 square feet, four times as big as the cozy P&G. It will have a stage for live music and a full kitchen, thus restoring food service to the bar which once used to serve eats along with suds.

"We’re going to do steak and chops—like the sign has said forever," Mr. Chahalis said. "We’re also going to do burgers. I make these awesome teriyaki garlic-saffron-rubbed burgers. We’re going to do chicken wings and legs. I make my own hot sauces. I make a buffalo sauce and a hot teriyaki." I'm getting a little excited.

But I'm also a little worried. Read this:

The new venue will also have a more refined look than the previous stripped-down dive. One corner of the new L-shaped space, for instance, will feature a fireplace, chess tables and shelves of books. “I want to really do it up like a man’s study in deep burgundy and walnut,” Mr. Chahalis said, explaining, “On Columbus Avenue, you can’t just open a shithole.”

Chess? Books? At the P&G?

I don't know.

Plus, Chahalis wouldn't talk on the record about whether he's taking the sign with him—which is in direct contrast to what he told Lost City reader (and blogger himself) Ken Mac. Even Robert Tierney, the lazy-ass jerk of a chairman of the city’s Landmarks Preservation Commission, has stated his "concern about the iconic sign." For me, the P&G can never be the P&G again without that sign. It must be save.

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.