Where the Streets Had a Name

Walking around Yorkville, it occurred to me that one of the cultural depletions New York has suffered over the past two gentrifying, blandifying decades is a death in nomenclature.

Once upon a time, Gotham was such a colorful town that mere numbers were not enough to properly characterize streets and avenues. Colloquial nicknames, appropriate to certain drags, cropped up on their own, a function of popular perception among the street-level denizens of the time. 52nd Street between Fifth and Sixth, for example, was Swing Street, owing to the number of jazz clubs and nite spots packed tightly into that happening block.

Some of these unofficial street names are still common parlance. 46th Street between Eighth and Ninth remains Restaurant Row to the world. 47th Street between Fifth and Sixth is still called Diamond Row. And 48th between Sixth and Seventh is Music Row—at last, for the next year or so. But many other names have dropped out of use as the city has careened toward willful homogeneity.

I've compiled a partial list of former New York street names, now only recalled by oldtimers and historians. Take a look and imagine what the town that held those throroughfares musta been like:

Now: Fourth Avenue between Astor Place and 14th Street
Then: Bookseller Row, home to countless used book peddlers

Now: Eighth Avenue from 42nd to 57th
Then: Minnesota Strip, because, in the 1970s, the area was swarming with teenage prostitutes from the Midwest

Now: 52nd Street between Fifth and Seventh Avenues
Then: Swing Street (see above)

Now: Doyers Street
Then: The Bloody Angle, because the Chinese Tong gangs would fight it out on this short, crooked street

Now: Park Row
Then: Newspaper Row, the location of all the city's great papers

Now: Myrtle Avenue, Fort Greene, Brooklyn
Then: Murder Avenue, for obvious reasons

Now: Eighth Avenue, in Bay Ridge
Then: Lapskaus Boulevard, home of a large Norwegian population

Now: Broadway, from 42nd Street to 57th
Then: The Main Stem, the Great White Way, Mazda Way, The Rialto, Coffeepot Canyon, all old terms from when Times Square was the center of American entertainment

Now: Broadway from the 50s to the 70s
Then: Automobile Row, home to many car dealers

Now: 72nd Street between Lexington and York Avenues
Then: Bohemian Broadway, the center of Czech life in New York

Now: 86th Street between Lexington and York Avenues
Then: German Broadway, the center of German life in New York

Now: 79th Street between Lexington and York Avenues
Then: Hungarian Broadway, the center of Hungarian life in New York

Now: Heath Avenue at Albany Crescent, in The Bronx
Then: Blood Alley, owing to the slaughterhouse nearby

Now: Alexander Avenue in the Bronx
Then: Doctors Row, where you went to get well

Now: West 133rd Street in Harlem between Lenox Avenue and Seventh Avenue
Then: Jungle Alley, home of many a nightclub

Now: Second Avenue between Houston and 14th Street
Then: Yiddish Rialto, the center of Jewish theatre in New York

Now: West 138th and West 139th between Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Boulevard and Frederick Douglass Boulevard
Then: Striver's Row, a set of townhouse where upwardly mobile African-Americans moved in the early 20th century

Lost City Asks "Who Goes to Francisco Centro Vasco"?

After a year of visiting New York's mysteriously enduring restaurants in service at the Eater feature "Who Goes There?," Lost City has learned a few things. One of the main lessons is this: in terms of enduring eateries in this town, the cuisine tends to be of one of three types: Italian, French and Spanish.

These are three of the ethnic groups that immigrated to New York City early on, so it makes sense that their food should be represented among the metropolis' culinary holdouts. They are also the three main "foreign" foods that New Yorkers first became accustomed to after they decided there was a world beyond steaks and chops. There were plenty of Scandinavians and Germans in the immigrant waves, but, for some reason, few of their early restaurants have survived. When I look at my list of Who Goes There candidates, I see a lot of Paella, Coq au vin and Spaghetti Bolognese in my future. (I will get to the Heidelberg in Yorkville one of these days, and if anyone can point me to a Norwegian or Swedish food survivor, I will happily check it out.)

Another thing I've found out: In the olden days, diners weren't so keen on people watching them eat. The facades of most of the restaurants I've visited are virtually opaque. The windows are small, and what glass there is is shaded by metal bars or thick curtains. "Air and light be damned! We want privacy!" If you want to see what these restaurants are like, or even look at a menu, you have to go inside. No noses pressed to the glass wall.

This week I went to Francisco Centro Vasco, known to all New Yorkers by the neon lobster sign hanging above 23rd Street near Seventh Avenue. Here's the piece:

With good reason is there a neon lobster hanging outside Francisco’s Centro Vasco, the old-school Spanish restaurant that has stood for 30 years, inscrutable and incongruous, on a bustling expanse of central Chelsea. When you sit down, before you’re even handed a menu, the waiter places a hand-lettered index card on your table, indicating the size and cost of the lobsters available that night. Everything from 1 ½ pounds ($20) to 14 pound whoppers ($225).

Very easily half the tables on a recent, busy weekday night ordered the butter-bathed red crustaceans, which flew out of the kitchen at an alarming rate. (There must be multiple caldrons of boiling water in the basement.) One can feel like a second-class citizen ordering something else from the menu. “Is the fact that no one’s ordering the Paella a signal that it’s not very good?” asked a woman.

The huge amounts of cash being laid down for high-end seafood has given Francisco’s a somewhat grand sense of itself. A short velvet cordon, controlled by a very proud, small and bald maitre’d, separates the bar from the dining room. He will lift it for you after you state your intentions. This formality is kind of funny, since Francisco’s may be the only restaurant left in Manhattan to hand out plastic lobster bibs (the waiters tie these around the diners necks with gracious ceremony) and to employ a guitar player, who strolls around the rather aesthetically chaotic dining room—fake marble, fake timber, fake brick, a large mural of some Spanish port, and lobster claws hanging from the stucco ceiling.

So, who goes here? People celebrating birthdays, that’s who. Within one half hour, the guitarist sang “Feliz cumpleaños” at three different tables. It was comic, but no one blinked. I was told that birthdays are commemorating with lobster tail and sangria every night at Francisco’s. No wonder they need a musician on the payroll. Beyond that, the crowd was one of the most pluralistic I’ve ever seen in any New York restaurant. There were tables of Asian-Americans, African-Americans, Jewish couples, Hispanic parties, Spaniards and one gathering of Wall Street young bucks. It was a melting pot. All were chowing down of mountains of seafood with the gaiety of invitees at a particularly jovial wedding reception.

My waiter said the place gets locals and “people from Long Island.” He could not explain why a place on 23rd Street was a magnet for folks in Nassau County. But then, it was hard to learn anything, for the staff is almost exclusively Spanish-speaking. So I turned to my neighbor, who had been to the restaurant many times, to get an opinion on Francisco’s bread and butter. “The lobster?” she said. “It’s OK. I like the king crab.”
—Brooks of Sheffield

Some Stuff That's Interesting

Andrew Berman gets some things off his chest. [The Villager]

Coney Island scourge Joe Sitt is working his charm again, this time frightening clowns away. [Curbed]

Chumley's has a new predicted opening date—fall 2009! We sorta believe this one a little more than the previous nine predictions. [The Villager]

Why couldn't they have just let the roof cave in? [NY Post]

A nice film of the interior of the RKO Keith in Flushing. [Queens Crap]

Details magazine thinks Park Slope's O'Connor's is a dive (correct), as well at Times Square's Jimmy's Corner (wrong). Dives are on the decrepit side and are home to sad boozehounds. Jimmy's is simply a nice, well-kept, modest bar. It's old and unfancy, not down and out. [Details]

Queens is Pinko. [Restless]

There was a road called Bloomingdale. [Harlem Bespoke]

Some nice photos from near the Hudson. [Greenwich Village Daily Photo]

Abraham and Straus, "Brooklyn's Greatest Retail Store," remembered. [Forgotten New York]

Doorway of Mystery

There is very little about the George & Sons Gourmet Deli at 84th and York Avenue to interest one. But walk around the corner to lay your eyes on a portal of intrigue.

The ground floor of the building has a side door of handsome brickwork. But it is dramatically apparent that no one has used it in a long time. A metal gate, drawn decades ago I'm guessing, is a study in rust. Every inch of metal is pure orange. The padlock keeping it in place has not been touched since it clicked shut; it has literally become one with the gate, and could be opened at this point only with the help of an ax. Another lock inside the gate is equally rusted.


Behind the gate one can glimpse the ancient wooden door, the paint on it faded and peeling, it's window pane long ago broken. In the transom space above the door—also fortified by old metal fencing—a couple pigeons happily exist.


A way of dating the era of this permanently slammed door hangs on one side of the door jamb in the form of an old metal thermometer for Nature's Remedy Vegetable Laxatives, made by the A. Lewis Medicine Company of St. Louis. "NR To-night. Tomorrow Alright." The gizmo looks no less that Depression-era.

Who first padlocked this door? And why did they do it so resolutely that no one's ever thought of opening it since? And if the entrance is so unwanted, why wasn't it bricked up long ago? Does George know? Do his sons?

The Classiest Gap in Town

Shopping at the Gap gets as close to a Fifth Avenue experience as possible at the location at 85th Street and Third Avenue.

The store occupies a former kingdom of Manufacturer's Hanover Trust. The bank built the grand edifice in 1915 and adorned it with sculpted metal doors worthy of a baptistery in Florence. There is Latin engraved on either portal, as well of allegorical figure representing what I'm sure are great commercial virtues. It makes one momentarily think this particular Gap has the most lofty principles.

The letters held up by the dual griffins above the door stand for "Yorkville Branch."

A Good Sign: Smith's Tavern

On Fifth Avenue in Park Slope.

A Double Loss

Two Yorkville businesses with a classic New York look to them are gone.

I don't know when Charlie Mom Restaurant and Gold Star Deli, neighbors on First Avenue at 78th, bit the dust, but I imagine it must be recently, based on postings of various food sites (Charlie Mom was inspected by the DOH as recently as Feb. 17). I have no experience with either place, but I love the storefronts. Charlie Mom resembles a classic circa-1950s Chinese joint. Gold Star appears to be from the same era. Many fantastic old fixture have been abandoned inside the old deli. Imagine how the star must have looked at night when it was fully equipped with bulbs.

My preservationists' instinct tells me the the double closure means the building they were part of is coming down, no doubt to make room for an apartment tower.

Death of a Tuxedo Joint

There used to be a tremendously old-looking tuxedo rental joint called Jack & Co. on the second floor on the southwest corner of E. 86th and Lexington. I never did find out much about it, but it looked Depression-era and I loved the old-style signage and advertising it pasted all over the second-floor windows and fire-escape.

I was sad to see yesterday that it had disappeared sometime during the past year. It's been replaced by a real estate outfit called Manhattan Connection. The windows have been scrubed clean.

I had taken some pictures of Jack's some time ago, but never posted them. Now, I can't find them. Sigh.

Amando's to Return to Brooklyn Heights

It's not often that we take a business off the Lost Landmarks column. But we may have to do it with Armando's, the Montague Street eatery that closed last year about 72 years in business.

The owner, Peter Byros, tells the Daily News that the fast food joint that took Armando's place, Spicy Pickle (above), defaulted on their lease. Byros owns the building and has decided to bring the restaurant back. Maria Byros, Peter's daughter, will manage the new Armando's.

"We're going to keep it in a similar style - Old New York - but freshened up," said the younger Byros, noting the menu will feature some yet-to-be-determined new items, along with some old favorites.

And, yes, Peter is trying to get the classic sign back.

Garry Jewelers Update: Not Dead

Not having heard anything further about the feared-dead Garry Jewelers & Opticians of Park Slope since I reported about the mysterious lack of activity at the 58-year-old shop last week, I decided to check in on the story.

I called the shop, but the phone just kept ringing. Not good. Then I decided to call the neighboring Payless Shoes next door, and, by some stroke of luck, I got an extremely helpful young man on the phone. He said Garry was indeed still in operation and that the shop had been open for about three hours just yesterday. Today, he confirmed, it was closed.

Apparently, the owner has no operating hours, per se, but lifts the roller shutter when he feels like it. Sometimes he works late, sometimes early, sometimes not at all. Garry and Payless communicate daily, according to the man on the phone, and Payless often accepts packages meant for the jeweler. What a nice chain outlet.