Smoke If You Got 'Em

Old cigarette packs in a defunct machine at Chumley's.

History in a Bathroom

If I could travel back in time and visit a bygone New York restaurant, one of the names near the top of the list would be The Coach House. Though the Village Landmark limped on for a few years after I arrived in New York in 1988, I never made it inside. Still, I admired the place's charming, insular appearance every time I passed by.

Babbo is there now, and very popular, and deservedly so. It is not a restaurant without a heart, though, as I was happy to learn during a recent visit. The men's bathroom is decorated with framed memories of The Coach House: old advertisements, articles and reviews. It's a very sweet little exhibition.

A little history: Leon Lianides opened The Coach House in an old stables in 1949 and kept it going until 1993. It was a favorite of Craig Claiborne and James Beard, who lived nearby. It served distincly American dishes like crab cakes, pecan pie, chicken pot pie and lamb chops, long before such things were fashionable. It was cozy and clubby, the kind of place you want to find on a quiet Village street like Waverly Place.

P.S.: Here's a chilling note from an old Times article about The Coach House. Babbo owner Mario Batali first intended to name his new restaurant Grillo. Ew.

Tea & Zero Sympathy

Let me just say first that I love Tea & Sympathy and A Salt & Battery, the cozy Limey food hangouts in Greenwich Village. I've enjoyed many visits there and am supportive of independent shopkeepers who add to the varied cultural character of the city.

But I guess it's been a while since my last visit to the eateries, because when did Tea & Sympathy et al becoming the cranky bossyboots of Greenwich Avenue? Looking in the window of A Salt & Battery I saw this unfriendly sign:



Then I spotted a sign in the window of the affiliated store next door that sells stuff like crisps and Heinz' Baked Beans that told me shoppers were being watched by surveillance cameras. And finally, posted on the door of Tea & Sympathy itself was the whopper of them all: a full list of do's and don't's and nasty ol' rules you had to read and abide by if you wanted to so much as step across the threshold. Among them: You will not be seated until your whole party has arrived; you will be asked to move to a different table if management needs the one you're at; there is a $9.50 minimum charge per person; you may be asked to clear out if you've stayed too long and they need your table; and, my favorite, be pleasant or be gone because "the Tea & Sympathy girls are always right."



I was surprised not to see something like "You'll be slapped repeatedly and like it!" This list was titled "Nicky's Rules," after owner Nicky Perry, who apparently would be ready to challenge Marshall ("Give the lady what she wants") Fields to a mud-wrestling contest if the retail magnate were still alive. The whole thing got my back up and made me want to boycott Perry's shops forever. She's got the whole thing backwards. I know New Yorkers can be rude and bossy when dining and shopping, but, I'm sorry, the customer is still alway right, not the freakin' Tea and Sympathy girls, however upright and hard-working they might be.

I know you've been hurt badly sometime in the past, Nicky. But take down the signs.

Congrats to New York's Newly Landmarked

New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission met earlier this week and crowned a few new Gotham properties landmark-worthy—news which always perks us up.

The lucky edifices included The Keller Hotel at 150 Barrow Street, 354 W. 11th Street and 159 Charles Street, all in the West Village; Sohmer & Company Piano factory of Queens; while the Commission said it would think about honoring Sunnyside Gardens, also in Queens. Let's hope they've got their thinking caps on straight when they finally decide on that last one.

To see what the Commish had to say about the buidings, click here.

Old Coffee Shop Sees Light of Day Once More

Don't know if this is old news or not, but it's the first I've known of it. While walking up lower Fifth Avenue in Flatiron the other day, I notice this old neon sign at 184 Fifth. Apparently the sign has been uncovered because of recent construction activity. The last known tenant at this address was something called Food Gallery Inc. Right now, the inside is gutted and filled with metal trash carts. The removal of the Food Gallery sign apparently unearthed the Squire's signage.

Squire's Coffee Shop was at this location until at least the early '70s as far as I can tell. It was your average coffee shop of the time, though bigger than most. Served sandwiches and cokes and the lot. You can see some remnants of the decor if you look through the window. On the right hand wall are some extant decorative tilework. But more fascinating, on the left-hand wall, is what looks like it was once a mural depicted an earlier version of the Manhattan skyline. My guess is that the lunch counter once faced the painting. (The picture's not very good, I know. I was shooting across a distance through a dusty window at an angle.)

John's Pizzeria Alive

John's Pizzeria of Bleeker Street is open and running, though it appears the Department of Health closing is still doing its damage. Visiting for a 10 PM bite, only a few of the tables were full and the staff was eager and ready for someone new to walk through the door. Perhaps people still think the shutter is down.

The pepperoni pie was good and the service was fast and the vibe was relaxed. I saw no mice, in or out of the bathroom. I imagine word of their return to life will spread by the weekend.

Earlier John's News

Not Receiving Anymore

Nor are they shipping. Nearly demolished buidling on Bethune Street near Washington in the Village.

A Good Sign: Monte's

I don't know if many people realize what a bit of living history Monte's Restaurant is as they pass through the casbah atmosphere of MacDougal Street between W. 3rd Streeet and Bleeker. It was founded in 1918 and is now owned by the Mosconi family, and it's a miracle the place is still there at all.

The sign is a gem, or course, red and green to match the Italian flag and with its figure of a fat little chef serving up dinner. An added treat is the rusting metal sign that alerts diners that Monte's is triple "A" approved. The Zagat's seal of approval of its time.

John's Pizzeria Redemption Is Here

If all goes well, John's Pizzeria of Bleeker Street should be open for the dinner rush tonight.

This afternoon, I ran into the owner of the famed pizza joint, which was closed down last Thursday by the Department of Health in the wake of now world-famous, videotaped rat dance at the Taco Bell/KFC down the block. He said at the time (3:55 PM) that he expected someone from the DOH in about 20 minutes and, if all went well, "We should be open in an hour." That's means pizza for dinner.

I had seen him on the tube the previous evening complaining that all the listed infractions had been corrected, but he was still waiting for an inspector. Inside the restaurant were a lot of idle, glum-looking employees, waiting to spring into action. More signs protesting the DOH's action had been posted in the windows of the restaurant, including a sort of poem from a local and another sign that began "Those of us who live in Greenwich Village regret that the horrible, sleazy, fast-food franchises that continue to blight our neighborhood have made it difficult for the independent and neighborhood-conscious establishments such as this one to do business."

I hope all goes well. I will be good to have John's back in business. As I left, some old, bent-over Italian ladies across Bleeker were asking the owner in Italian how things were going. "Eh, Basta!" he yelled back.

UPDATE: A worker at John's, answering a call at 7:15 PM, said the pizzeria would open "in 45 minutes." A truncated dinner shift is better than none at all.

Evening Peace at Eckerd

After reading our March 5 item about an old Smith Street garage's former life as a movie house, one enthusiastic reader asked if Lost City knew any other tasty historical facts, such as what used to occupy the "fun destination" that is now an Eckerd drug store at President and Smith. "Care to tell us what was THERE previously," this avid nostalgia buff queried.

Well, my sarcastic friend, all I can say is what they teach budding trial lawyers: Never ask a question unless you already know what the answer is.

Because I actually DO know what used to be where the Eckerd's is now. Most recently, is was a stretch of blacktop used by a used car dealership. Long before that, though, it was a two-story brick building of not-unattractive appearance (see above). In this 1928 photo, it says the corner, ground-floor space is to let. Next to it is a laundry.

On the second floor, however, is what looks like a charming coffee and tea room. And way over to left, posted above the entrance to the room, is a sign reading "Kveldsro Kaffistova." This is an indication is the neighborhood's former Norwegian character. "Kaffistova" is Norwegian for "coffee house." "Kveldsro" means "evening peace."

Now, isn't that an lovely notion? Evening Peace Coffee House. That's what we all need, isn't it? A cup of coffee and a little peace and quiet at the end of the day? Certainly it must have been what Norwegian laborers needed in 1928. I think it's what that reader needed, too.

Court on Union