The grand old Second Avenue Deli, once a fixture in the East Village, survived its recent near-death experience to emerge, phoenix-like, as a thriving concern on E. 33rd Street. Things are apparently going so well at the new location that deli heir Jeremy Lebewohl has plans to open a second space on First Avenue and 75th.
One critical remnant of the original deli, however, remains stuck on Second Avenue, withering in the florescent glare of the Chase bank branch that consumed the old storefront. Passersby who are new to the neighborhood must wonder why plaques engraved with the names of Yiddish Theatre stage stars align the sidewalk outside the bank.
The Yiddish Walk of Fame, which is modeled after Hollywood Boulevard’s monument to the stars of the silver screen, was installed in 1984. More than 30 stars are honored, many whose names are no doubt unknown to the modern public.
The Lebewohls decided not to bring the plaques with them when they moved, which places the walk in a sort of limbo. Certainly, the walk was situated outside the deli, and not somewhere else, due to the eatery's connection to and feeling for Second Avenue's formerly theatrical past. And, just as certainly, the owner of the building that housed the deli didn't, and doesn't, give a hoot about the nabe's history. Yet, the walk is now the possession of the building’s owner, Jonis Realty. In New York City, property owners are responsible for maintaining the sidewalks in front of their buildings. But it doesn't look like anything is being done to keep the plaques in good shape. The names just fade away with each passing footstep.
In a 2006 Jewish Forward article, a rep for Jonis said, “We’re keeping the sidewalk, but I don’t think we’re going to preserve it.”
Part of me understands that the plaques should stay on Second Avenue, where the actors honored made their mark and plied their trade. But the other part wishes the Lebewohls would find a way to remove the walk of fame to their new building (which they own). It's there where anyone who remembers the Yiddish Rialto is going to go eat, not on Second Avenue, and its there where the plaques will be appreciated. 
The New York Times has given the reopening of the Second Avenue Deli the full Times-Magazine-smooth-paper-classy-font-Alex-Witchel treatment. Nice to see that the Paper of Record is bestowing on the deli's rebirth the sense of gravitas it deserves (at least, in my book).
The piece is touching—if a Witchel article can said to be that—in its treatment of the extended Lebewohl family. And we learn a few things. Jack Lebewohl's son Jeremy, who will now run the place, has a silent partner in his brother Josh. The Lebewohls own the 33rd Street building the deli will be in. (Yeah!) There will be fish and a line of appetizing along with the meat. There will be a full bar, and the joint will be open 24/7. Hey—they and Sarge's Deli around the corner can keep each other company.
One might think the Second Avenue Deli is willfully isolating itself from its clientele by relocating to the nowheresville that is Third Avenue and 33rd Street. But, on second thought, the area is not uncharted territory, deli-wise. The famous Reuben's, of sandwich fame, lived out its life on Madison and 38th. And Murray Hill is still home to one of Manhattan longest-lived, though least sung, Jewish-style delis.
I'm talking about Sarge's. Never heard of it? I'm not surprised. Despite having been around since 1964, it doesn't get much press. When the papers and mags roll out their frequent New York Deli features, it's rarely mentioned alongside the Carnegie Deli, Stage Deli and Katz's. Not sure why. Maybe because of the out-of-the way location on Third Avenue near 37th. Maybe because the place lacks pizazz. Don't know. Until recently, I myself gave it a pass. But the recent loss of the Second Avenue Deli (it's coming back, of course, but in a real way it's still lost) and the rumors of Katz's possible demise made me check out this survivor for signs of worthiness.
The place has a fairly interesting heritage. As it's name suggest, it was founded by a cop, one Abe Katz (Katz!), who worked the Murray Hill beat for 25 years, and started the deli after he retired. He created a classic deli menu, with matzo ball soup, potato pancakes, stuffed derma, kugel and pastrami he cured himself. One of the restaurant's great virtues is its lack of vanity. It's not full of itself, like Carnegie and some others. It's a deli; not a deli museum. The decor is what you expect and want: a long meat counter up front; some tables, some booths, along the side and in the back; tacky, faux-Tiffany lamps. Waitresses are run off their feet. Diners are laid back and relaxed.
Trying to get a general feeling for the fare, I ordered a cup of chicken soup with kreplach, a side of corned beef hash, and a pastrami sandwich with fries on the side. The soup was good, the hash tasty if a bit overwhelming after a few bits, the fries crispy, greasy and fantastic, and the pastrami moist and flavorful. Was any of it the best such stuff I'd ever had in New York? No. But it was damn good. And the prices were much better than those at the more famous delis.
But I think the thing I like best about Sarge's is its insistence of being open 24 hours, seven days a week. Though New York is supposedly a city that doesn't sleep, that schedule is actually a real throwback. There are plenty of clubs and bars where you can hang out until the wee hours, sure, but Manhattan was once a place of all-night, all-day, Edward Hopperesque businesses. I remember in particular a pharmacy with a soda fountain near the Waldorf=Astoria that never closed. There's no reason why Murray Hill should need a hot blintz at morning, noon and night, but Sarge's does it anyway.
Maybe Katz worked the night shift.
If you asked me six months ago, I would have said "Never gonna happen." But it seems to be true: the Second Avenue Deli, onetime East Village institution felled by rising rents, will rise again on 33rd Street near Third Avenue.
The exact address is 162 E. 33rd Street, a few feet west of Third, the former location of a rather tacky-looking tapas joint. It's a charmingly ramshackle little block, a collection of aging and falling-down buildings. There are construction notices all over the windows of the restaurant and a lot of work going on inside. A workman confirmed that this was the future location of the famous deli.
It's a narrow space, a fraction of the size of the former Second Avenue address. It seems they've trying their best to recreate the old place's ambiance. They've put up a long counter on the right size. There's an ornate pressed-tin ceiling, painted silver. Tile has been laid on the floor and on the walls in back, where the seating will be. It looks cozy, if cramped.
Jack Lebewohl, whose family owned the Second Avenue Deli for decades, and who's son Jeremy will now run the deli, has said it will reopen "sometime in the fall." It looks like they will
Note: This is an amended version of my previous post. I guess in my grief over the loss of Kurowycky Meats, I misremembered its location. It's not on Second Avenue, but First Avenue, as many of you out there pointed out. Apologies. That said, Second Avenue is still taking some bad hits these days. And First Avenue's not doing so great either. Below is the original post in all its (well-intentioned) inaccuracy:
***
OK, then. With the closure of Kurowycky Meats, let's take a look at what's left of the increasingly personality-free stretch of Second Avenue south of 14th Street, once the soul of the East Village (nee the Lower East Side).
Also gone within the past two years are: the Second Avenue Deli, pastrami sandwich and matzo ball soup purveyor non pareil; Jade Mountain, last of the old-time chop suey palaces; Rectangles, late lamented kosher Israeli-Yemenite place; Kiev, all-night Ukrainian diner of homey ambiance.
What's left of note: Veselka, another old Ukrainian diner, a bit fancier than Kiev; B&H Dairy, a longtime kosher vegetarian place; Moishe's Bake Shop, a shabby kosher bakery of many decades standing; Anthology Film Archives, founded by Jonas Mekas in 1970.
My mordant mind guesses that Moishe's won't last another year. And it's hard to see tiny B&H surviving the current real estate shitstorm. Soon enough, Second Avenue will resemble Third Avenue in Yorkville or Sixth Avenue in Chelsea. Chase Banks branches to take out money to buy stuff at the Starbuck's and Staples, and Rite Aids to buy aspirin to dispel the headache you get from the banal ugliness of it all.
Well, this is kinda awesome news: the Second Avenue Deli will return from the grave in five months time, re: Eater.com. I say "Kinda" because it will be reborn at 33rd Street and Third Avenue—far from its original location at Second Avenue and 12th Steet, and far, far way from it's spiritual base: the former location of the Yiddish Rialto. But who knows—maybe the place will include some of the old joint's interior.
The news came to Eater.com is a notably romantic way. The informer told of the old Second Avenue Deli van pulling up alongside his cab on Atlantic Avenue. A brief exchange took place between the cab passenger and the van driver, in which the latter spilled the beans about the famed delicatessen reopening in a new location. (New of this move actually cropped up back in January, but there hasn't been a peep since.)
33rd and Third. Does anyone else think it's funny that the Deli will now live at this address? When I was young, my sister, hopeful of a career on the stage, won the part of a dancer in a community production of Sweet Charity. She bought a book on accents to practice her Brooklyn twang. One of the phrases she repeated ad nauseam was "33rd and Third," pronounced "Toirty-toird and Toird." Like some old-time movie taxi driver. If the Deli really opens, some old time Brooklynites can finally get some use out of that locution.
This is so depressing.
Chase finally unveiled its latest location, the corner of Second Avenue and 10th Street that used to belong to the late, lamented Second Avenue Deli. Chase is my bank, but even I'm sick of their relentless convenience.
What I wanna know is, dude, where'd the plaques to the Yiddish Theatre Walk of Fame go? I can't tell exactly from this picture, but it looks like they've vanished from the sidewalk.
UPDATE (4 PM April 23): Readers inform me that the plaques are still there, putting Chase in the odd position of appearing to be a nostalgic booster of the Yiddish Rialto! Perhaps they will build on this bit of happenstance by seizing some naming opportunties. The Deli had a Molly Picon room. So why not the Molly Picon ATM Vestibule? The Jacob Adler Information Desk? The Boris Thomashefsky Cubicle?
No further word yet on the fate of the Second Avenue Deli, which owner Jack Lebewohl abruptly and unceremoniously shut down shortly after Christmas, after a dispute with his landlord, who wanted to hike his monthly rent $9000 a month. Any hope that this was a bit a hardball bargaining on the part of Lebowohl, a former real estate lawyer, was snuffed out on Jan. 10, when the eatery's sign and facade were dismantled.
The closure surprised me. I met and lunched with Lebewohl just a week before the shuttering, and nothing he said indicated the place was in trouble. And, don't get me wrong—I never side with New York landlords, who are like so many trolls dwelling under bridges, threatening to eat you alive if you don't pay their price—but there is something fishy about the whole affair. The New York Times reported that the rent hike was written into a lease signed years ago, so Lebewohl knew about it. So why the grandstanding? And the Second Avenue Deli always made money hand over fist, so if this new rent really wrankled him, why not suffer under it for a while until you find a place to relocate, which is what he has said he plans to do? Instead, the public and the Deli's employees will have to go months before a new joint opens. And everyone know the longer you stay away, the harder it is to hit the ground running when you do reopen. New Yorkers are forgetful of the past. It's in their wiring. You have to stay in their line of vision constantly.
One last thing about all those articles about the Second Avenue Deli's demise. Many called it the last Kosher Deli in Manhattan. This was shockingly sloppy reporting. If Gotham reporters can't get Jewish culture right, who can? The Second Avenue Deli may have sold Kosher meat, but the place was open on Friday night and Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath, which basically negates any Kosher claims. True Kosher restaurants are closed on the Sabbath. No self-respecting Rabbi is going to sanctify a place that sells pastrami sandwiches when folks are supposed to be in shul.
The Deli's not being truly Kosher doesn't make its departure any less sad. Let's just be straight about what's been lost.
I was strolling around the Lower East Side this past weekend with my wife. We were pointing out some unorthodox (read: not in Midtown) tourist sights to some visiting friends from Italy. While doing so, we made brief stops at two cherished vestiges of the old LES: Yonah Schimmel's Knishery on Houston and Guss' Pickles on Orchard Street.
When I visit such landmark businesses, I can never hold back from asking the One Essential Question: Do you own the building? This is the key to survival in our vicious, ahistorial real estate market. If you're a lowly renter, you can be kicked onto the the sidewalk at any moment (see McHale's, Second Avenue Deli, CBGB's). Own the building and you can stay in business as long as someone in the family is willing to get up at the crack of dawn to "make the donuts," as it were. (This is also essential. The great South Brooklyn salumenia Lattacini Barese, founded in 1927, owned its Union Street building. But when owner Joe Balzano had a heart attack, neither of his sons were keen on rising each morn to make the fresh mozzarella. They sold the building in 2002. It's a real estate office now—natch.)
In both cases, the answer was depressing. Yonah Schimmel's doesn't own the the old tenement in which they're housed. "Chinese!," the counter woman gruffly replied. The woman behind the pickle barrels at Guss' laughed at the notion of ownership. This is bad news for anyone who wants Manhattan to have at least one shop turning out, as a specialty, knishs and pickles—two foods any self-respecting burg calling itself New York City should always produce.
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