Beck Is Back

It says Hirschfeld on the marquee, but Beck on the will-call window.

A few years ago, the Jujamcyn Theatres people rechristened the Martin Beck Theatre on W. 45th Street The Al Hirschfeld Theatre, loosening long gone vaudeville producer Martin Beck's already tenuous grip on immortality. But Beck, who built the theatre—one of the most beautiful on Broadway—isn't totally forgotten. Theatregoers picking up tickets at the will-call window will see his unfamiliar name there, and perhaps wonder if the man at the window is named Martin Beck.

Beck, by the way, had one of my favorite nicknames in New York history: "Two Beers Beck." Whether that means he was on the floor after two brewskies, or resolutely refused to down more than two ales, I don't know. I suspect he was a good negotiator, as any Broadway producer has to be, and would engage his colleagues in a friendly drink while talking business. But he would order only two beers—enough to seem convivial, but not so much that he wouldn't lose his grip on the situation.

Better Late Than Never

Took me about eight months to notice that Mr. Souvlaki, the sweet little Greek restaurant on Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights, had closed its doors. Guess I don't walk down that street as much as I ought. Still, I'd like to record its passing here. It was a homey, unpretentious place for the Heights, and probably the cheapest sit-down meal on Montague. Their white bean soup was wonderful. Harry and Anna Kilimitzoglou were the owners. Thirty-three years they were at it. Nothing new is there as of yet. The wide blue awning is gone and there is newspaper over the windows. I hear a dentist's office will be going in there. Turnover has always been endemic to Montague. Mr. Souvlaki was one of the steadies. Too bad.

Eisenberg's in Pictures

I defy anyone to spend an afternoon at the lunch counter of Eisenberg's Sandwich Shop on lower Fifth, nursing a cup of coffee with a light snow falling outside, and not feel cared for, content and indisputably in New York.

The old luncheonette is a collection of comforting details, many untouched for decades, and, a few days back, while enjoying some matzah ball soup, I captured a few. The service, by the way, was unerringly considerate and easy-going.






The sign says "Why not warm up with a hot bowl of creamy tomato soup?" Take heed, world.

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.