Silver Rod Pharmacy Has That Name for a Reason

Lost City solves mysteries!

In September 2009 I posted this image of the fantastic, and fantastically named, Silver Rod Pharmacy of Bensonhurst, and casually wondered at the curious name of the 84-year-old business.

Today, 19 months later, I got a message from one of the pharmacy's founders: "The name Silver Rod was a contraction of the last names of its founders, Simon Rodnon and a Mr. Silver-...I’m not certain of his entire last name. Simon was my grandfather. He also owned Deauville French ice cream also based in Brooklyn and a key supplier to the Silver Rod drug store chain and, yes, Junior’s as well."

Little Records, Little Shop

Used to be, in most neighborhoods, you could find a record store where the selections reflected the tastes and language of the ethnic group that dominated in that area. Not so much anymore.

Such shops, however, are still fairly prevalent in Bensonhurst. I've noticed not one, but a few, all selling Italian-language music. This one, Little Records, is on 18th Avenue. The show is more than 30 years old. Seems to have been a big enough deal in the past for the owners to go out of their way and created a logo featuring a strolling minstrel.

Here you can also buy "DVD & VHS films, gift sets, art, religious items, souvenir items, sport items, hats, jackets, shirts, balls, flags, coffee espresso makers, car accessories, playing cards,...Italian home bath and body products such purfumes, colognes, creams from Nivea, Felce Azzurra, Proraso, Malizia, Borotalco, Cleo, and many others."

A Good Sign: Pine Sash & Door

In Bensonhurst, as seen from the subway platform.

A Good Sign Photo Study: 18th Avenue, Brooklyn

Old neighborhoods that are rich with independent, longstanding businesses are also often rich with wonderful signage. The Bensonhurst stretch of 18th Avenue in the 60s and 70s is one such stretch. Da Vinci Pizza has been around since 1966; the Silver Rod Pharmacy (odd name) since 1927; Trovato Liquor since 1933 (when Prohibition ended); Kersner Furs in 1927.

A Dead Giveway

How can you tell that the seemingly contemporary Brooklyn Chinese restaurant Silver Star is older than it looks?

Look up and see the old, partially obscured sign for "Chow Mein." It's a rare Chinese eatery that touts that delicacy anymore.

THIS JUST IN FROM A READER: "This place is well over 50 years old... Interestingly, Silver Star is owned by the same family for all that time, and the only reason they are still there is because they have long owned the building. Going here is like stepping back in time. The place is kept up, but not modernized . The booths are covered in sparkling green glossy vinyl. They have not changed the menu in many years and cook a particular style of old school Chinese American food."

A Good Sign: Henry's Fish Market

I like this vertical sign outside Henry's Fish Market on 18th Avenue in Brooklyn.

The place is closed now. And if you're looking for Tony, be advised:

Closed on 18th: Final Edition

For my last post this week on old businesses that have recently shuttered along the Bensonhurst artery of 18th Avenue (read about the others here, here and here), we looks at the deceased Stella's Diner, near 62nd Street.

A big establishment, with a "party room" in back, it closed some time ago, at least earlier than May. I can't say how old it was—not much info on this place—but the signage and counter inside bespeak of at least a 30 year run. The diner is also notable for its unusual neon signs, which remain in the window ("Sundaes," with each letter surrounded by a circle).

The Cotillion Is Over

Continuing with this week's unintentional theme of Closing Bensonhurst Businesses, here see the empty hull of the once mammoth Cotillion Terrace. As Forgotten New York has noted, the building was formerly the Senate Theatre, which opened in 1925 and closed, as a theater, in 1957. Now it's successor has died as well. Nice Martini glass on the awning.


Il Grottino, the restaurant belonging to this fades sign nearby also appears to have disappeared.

Wedding Coach Rides Outa Town

Wedding Coach, a bridal supplies store on 18th Avenue in Bensonhurst, has apparently gotten divorced from active business.

The store was empty and gutted upon recent inspection. The business was founded in 1964 and dealt in wedding invitations, tuxedos and "favors." It had a great name as well.

One commenter notes: "I can tell you that 15 years ago this was THE place to go throughout brooklyn for all things wedding and bridal showers -- including "naughty" items for the shower. It was the only place to rent the necessary wishing well and rattan chairs for the wedding. It was worth the hourlong train ride from the Heights just to get there. I think weddings have changed as well as the demographic -- now with digital photos and DVDs handed out at the end of the night, there is less need for engraved glass ashtrays or boxes of confetti almonds."

Bensonhurst's Trunzo Brothers Meat Market Closes

The closing of Trunzo Brothers Meat Market and Salumeria, a Bensonhurst staple for decades, doesn't seem to have made any news cycle, even though the final end came for the 18th Avenue institution months ago.

Seeing the Trunzo name still emblazoned on the awnings and the building's north wall, I recently walked right in expecting to buy some cheese and sausage, only to find aisle after aisle filled with cheap gift crap. It was a 99 cents store. As a sign of how willing today's youth are to forget the past—or simply remain totally ignorant of it—I had to show the clerk the awning before she believed that the place had once been an Italian deli. Only then did she remember the Trunzo had closed six months ago.


There's so much Trunzo signage left, that you have to look thrice to locate the awning that says "99 cents." You'd think they'd take some of it down. Then again, I'm glad they didn't. I hope they never do.



Trunzo—it's a great name, isn't it? The store was opened in 1974 by brothers Pasquale and Frank Trunzo. The family itself had spent fully seven generations in the meat business. They carried the usual stuff: prosciutto di Parma and Genoa salami, homemade sopressata, capicollo, pancetta, fresh buffalo mozzarella, pecorino, gorgonzola and tallegio. None of it cost 99 cents; it was worth more than that.

Here's a picture of Trunzo when it was still functioning:

Have Your Next Party at Club B66

I find this Bensonhurst club at 6612 New Utrecht Avenue hilarious. As far as I can tell, it's named after a bus line. It's in the middle of an industrial wasteland, and absolutely nondescript in appearance.

It is advertised as "a unique nightclub located in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. Whether you are looking for a place to host your next Birthday/Baby Shower/Sweet 16/and more.. or you are just looking for a place to party all night with your friends come on over to B66 Club. With the sexiest European bartenders in all of NY, and the wildest crowd, we will definitely make it one night you will never forget!"

Some of those sexy European bartenders can be seen below.

A Good Sign: Rispoli Pastry Shop

I didn't know about the Risposi Pastry Shop of north Bensonhurst until I passed it on my bike the other days. They're supposed to be renowned for their cannoli. The homemade ices also have their fans. Have not been able to determine the age of the place. Beautiful old bakery, inside and out. And wonderful signage.

Bensonhurst Bakery Changes Identity

On my last trip to Bensonhurst, I identified JC Bakery on 86th Street as a particularly wonderful example of an old-school bake shop. I biked by recently, however, and the name of the ancient place had changed to Pippo's. What happened? Anyone know?

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.

Christmas Pie—Bensonhurst Style

How do you know Bensonhurst's classic drive-in L&B Spumoni Gardens does a bang-up business in its patented retangular parmesan pizzas? When you walk in on a cold Saturday night and order one, the pizzaioli doesn't get to work pounding the dough. He just turns around, grabs a box resting above the pizza oven and hands it to you. And it's got a pizza inside it! And it's still hot!!

These guys are ready with dozens of freshly made pizza, and they know they're going to sell them within minutes of their coming out of the oven. That's a business, buddy! The slices were, as usual, light, tangy, zesty and addictive. I inhaled three pieces in five minutes.

I was amused to see a sign on the back wall advertising L&B's willingness to cater your Christmas dinner. Who's lazy enough to rely on take-out pizza and heros for their holiday feast? The guy behind the counter, however, said they do brisk business. OK. If it makes you merry, who am I to say no?

A Good Sign: Ravioli Fair

It's not just a ravioli store. It's the Ravioli Fair! Come to the Fair! Check out the rainbow colored letters on "Fair." Festive, huh?

Tommaso's Is Safe

It's a toss-up what the most famous culinary landmark of Bensonhurst is. Some might say L&B Spumoni Gardens, the 68-year-old home of New york's best parmesan pizza slice. Others would side with Tommaso Restaurant, the gracious, friendly restaurant run by Tommaso Verdillo. The atmosphere and menu are homey and comforting, and the wine cellar holds Italian vino treasures and amazingly low prices.

I was fortunate enough to enjoy a dinner there recently. The food is good, but Verdillo's warm persona is almost enough to make a visit worthwhile. He dresses casually and doesn't like to put on airs. He does, however, like to put on arias, offering unsolicited concerts to the clientele.

As people who read this blog regularly know, one of my mantras regarding the saving of this city's mercantile landmarks is: Own That Building! If you rent is these times, your days are numbered, no matter what your pedigree. I was glad to find out that Verdillo does own his building and has no plans of going anywhere. There does not, however, appear to be any heir to his kingdom; he has no children. Surely there's someone out there who would like to learn at the knee of this man.

Big Italy

The other day I hopped the D train to Bensonhurst—a neighborhood I'm ashamed to say I've never visited in 18 years of Gotham habitation—and learned a few things about one of the city's most notorious Little Italies. For one thing, it's not so little. I walked for miles along 86th Street under the elevated tracks before reaching my lunchtime destination, L & B Spumoni Gardens. And another thing: it's not so Italian.

Given the nabe's tough reputation, I half expected to be hit in the back of the knees with a lead pipe for just stepping off the train. But nary a short-haired, wide-bellied yoot harassed me. Why, it was a few blocks before I could even locate an Italian business. There were a lot of Chinese stores, quite a few Polish storefronts, and many a Korean grocer. Even a few lonely Kosher establishments. But the Italian places started to trickle in—a restaurant there, a bakery here, as well as some genuinely authentic Rome-style bars, with zinc counters, fine espresso, a table of goombahs in the corner and a back room for card playing and other "dealings." The area also boasted some gloriously antiquated signage dating from the 1930s to the 1960s.

But, to the purpose: the anomalous L & B Spumoni Gardens. To see this place, long heralded as one of the ur-Italian joints in the town, was my main purpose. The physical edifice is as odd as the its name. A low-slung brick edifice with a series of ordering windows, fronted by an old sign perched on a large pole and a couple dozen red-and-white picket tables, it could be a roadside drive-in in Anywhere, USA. Those who built it surely forgot that New York is a congested city with little elbow room. It's the kind of layout that would encourage hot shots to roll up in their flashy rides, leave the flivver idling and hop out for a quick slice and hello. I imagine the place is quite magical at night. It's made for Chinese lanterns.

You can order a lot of things here, but two items loom large: the square, Sicilian slices and the spumoni. You go up to one window to order one, a different window to order the other. As far as I could tell, you can not venture inside to eat your slice, but must take it to a picnic table. (There is some "elegant" dining off another area serving up heros and "hot plates," but it didn't seem to be open for business to anyone other than a quartet of clannish MTA workers.)

The slice is justifiable famous. Light and crisp for it size, with a savory tomato sauce and just a smattering of parmesan. It's all the goodfellas around me were eating. I had two. I should have had spumoni afterward, but, what can I say: I wasn't hungry for ice cream.