Follow "No 7-11" on Twitter and on Facebook for updates on the war on Sevvy.
Saturating Manhattan with its chain stores is 7-Eleven's #1 priority. [EVG]
The East Village fights back against 7-Eleven. [NYT]
They used to say "It's better than a bank," and now? "...a bar owner applying for a liquor license recently used 7-Eleven as a scare tactic. 'We had an applicant come to us and say, 'If you don't approve my license, I know the landlord is also talking to 7-Eleven.'" [Crain's]
Bleecker Street Records may be vanishing next. [DNA]
Landlord doubles the rent on 87-year-old 9th Street Bakery--closure imminent. [EVG]
"The southern end of the High Line will soon transform dramatically, as what are now some of the most open and exposed parts of the park will be surrounded on all sides by large new developments." [GVSHP]
Middle-class in Manhattan? Maybe, maybe not. [NYT]
When a business shutters, who owns their neon sign? [NYN]
Caleb Carr: "...that is the tragedy of tipping the scales too far in the direction of money. I know it's fatuous to be nostalgiac for a dirtier, more crime-ridden city, but the simple fact is, when there are undesirables, there are undesirable areas; and it is into these undesirable -- and cheap -- areas that move the creative class that keeps a city's lifeblood strong. Without that class, a city has no legend, no ethos, no character; it's just a high-priced dormitory for those who want to think they're part of something long-gone." [CR]
"Are today's young people deluded narcissists?" [CA]
Growing up with Hinsch's. [DJ]
What hyper-gentrification feels like in Berlin:
Offending the Clientele from Sender FN / Retsina-Film on Vimeo.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Thursday, January 24, 2013
NYPL Demolition
The New York Public Library's plan for renovating the Main Branch has been approved by Landmarks. This means it will be transformed from a research library to a research and lending library. The magnificent and mysterious stacks beneath the Reading Room will be demolished, and most of the books will be exiled to storage in New Jersey.
This renovation was the topic of what might well have been Ada Louise Huxtable's final critique before her recent death. In the Wall Street Journal she wrote, "a research library is a timeless repository of treasures, not a popularity contest measured by head counts, the current arbiter of success." And, in short, "You don't 'update' a masterpiece. 'Modernization' may be the most dangerously misused word in the English language."
I love the way books are retrieved today in the reading room. You get a number and wait for them to emerge, via dumbwaiter and a complicated Rube Goldbergy conveyor system of lifts and chutes, from the vast and hidden stacks below. You can get pretty much any obscure book you want within minutes.
It used to be, not long ago, you also sent your request on a slip of paper via the "zip tube," a remnant of what was once a complex system of urban pneumatics. For over a century, the librarian would secure your pencil-scratched call slip in a windowed capsule, then plunk it into the tube for it to be sucked away with a satisfying "thoomp," and zipped down into the bowels of the library, down into those 7 floors of stacks, where elves (it always seemed) set out in search of the requested item.
Artifacts, like the one above, remain, but the zip tube system was shut down in 2011. "The passing of a steampunk relic might occasion a fit of nostalgia and no more," wrote Metropolis, but "One could hardly contrive a more blatant metaphor for the uneasy shift, in the world of letters, from the physical to the digital."
I don't know what will happen to the dumbwaiters once the stacks are gone.
Cover of Scientific American, 1911, NYPL
"We are going to create a glorious new center that is full of life," said the library president, as if books are dead. Are the stacks, as they are, not full of life? Books themselves are vessels of life, more life than can be currently lived, because they contain the vastness of the past.
But not everyone sees it this way. For many, "full of life" means having people lounging around all over the place, chattering away in the sunlight, not being very curious at all about much of anything, really.
And for this we are losing a true wonder.
This renovation was the topic of what might well have been Ada Louise Huxtable's final critique before her recent death. In the Wall Street Journal she wrote, "a research library is a timeless repository of treasures, not a popularity contest measured by head counts, the current arbiter of success." And, in short, "You don't 'update' a masterpiece. 'Modernization' may be the most dangerously misused word in the English language."
I love the way books are retrieved today in the reading room. You get a number and wait for them to emerge, via dumbwaiter and a complicated Rube Goldbergy conveyor system of lifts and chutes, from the vast and hidden stacks below. You can get pretty much any obscure book you want within minutes.
It used to be, not long ago, you also sent your request on a slip of paper via the "zip tube," a remnant of what was once a complex system of urban pneumatics. For over a century, the librarian would secure your pencil-scratched call slip in a windowed capsule, then plunk it into the tube for it to be sucked away with a satisfying "thoomp," and zipped down into the bowels of the library, down into those 7 floors of stacks, where elves (it always seemed) set out in search of the requested item.
Artifacts, like the one above, remain, but the zip tube system was shut down in 2011. "The passing of a steampunk relic might occasion a fit of nostalgia and no more," wrote Metropolis, but "One could hardly contrive a more blatant metaphor for the uneasy shift, in the world of letters, from the physical to the digital."
I don't know what will happen to the dumbwaiters once the stacks are gone.
Cover of Scientific American, 1911, NYPL
"We are going to create a glorious new center that is full of life," said the library president, as if books are dead. Are the stacks, as they are, not full of life? Books themselves are vessels of life, more life than can be currently lived, because they contain the vastness of the past.
But not everyone sees it this way. For many, "full of life" means having people lounging around all over the place, chattering away in the sunlight, not being very curious at all about much of anything, really.
And for this we are losing a true wonder.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Follies Burlesk
This blog began with a post on the Howard Johnson's of Times Square. I later wrote more about the history of its building, 1551 Broadway, and the Gaiety Theater upstairs. But the story seems never to end. Every time I come upon another image of the building, I feel compelled to post it here. Like the 1980 shots by Andreas Feininger and a magnificent color photo from the 1940s, when the Orpheum Dance Palace was still upstairs (and HoJo's was a Childs restaurant).
Here are a bunch of photos from the days in between the Orpheum and the Gaiety, between the dime-a-dance and the jerk-off grind, when the second floor of 1551 Broadway belonged to the Follies Burlesk.
Bob Gruen, 1972, via Ephemeral New York
In its heyday, the Follies Burlesk sported major signage for "the most beautiful showgirls in the world," "glorified burlesk," and the "all live whirly girly revue." 1974 saw the arrival of one Lisa Ct. Cyr ("plus 6 young new oxotics"), surely a poor man's knock-off of Lily St. Cyr, star of 52nd when it was "Strip Street" two decades earlier.
Here's a gal under the Follies marquee, with the performers' photos in the background. The photographer also has a close-up of the marquee, wrapped in light bulbs and featuring DESHA SHAUNEE, whoever she was, wherever she went.
obwantiag's flickr
Another color shot shows the spectacular signage from across the avenue. The billboard above advertised nothing more glamorous than plain and simple WOOL.
When the Gaiety opened in 1976, replacing the Follies Burlesk, the signage above HoJo's shifted--from girls to boys.
close-up, Gruen
close-up, Feininger--same view
By 1978, the painted strippers on the old Burlesk sign had peeled and flaked. They would be replaced by 1980 by a billboard for Howard Johnson's (And behind that Burger King sign hides the remnants of the grandest old Automat.)
1978, via Lost City
Wrote Josh Alan Friedman:
"Perched from my upstairs, extra-seating table view,
I saw the lights go on for the All Live Whirly*Girly Revue,
Broadway's worst burly-Q, first time since '62"
1980s, Carl Burton
I remember standing in Times Square in the early 1990s and looking up at the last remnant of the Follies, the sign for the ALL LIVE WHIRLY GIRLY REVUE. That's all that remained. And then it, too, was covered by billboards. I wondered when they tore down the building to put up an American Eagle Outfitters, was the sign still there? Did anyone bother to save it?
1992, Greenwich Village Daily Photo
Here are a bunch of photos from the days in between the Orpheum and the Gaiety, between the dime-a-dance and the jerk-off grind, when the second floor of 1551 Broadway belonged to the Follies Burlesk.
Bob Gruen, 1972, via Ephemeral New York
In its heyday, the Follies Burlesk sported major signage for "the most beautiful showgirls in the world," "glorified burlesk," and the "all live whirly girly revue." 1974 saw the arrival of one Lisa Ct. Cyr ("plus 6 young new oxotics"), surely a poor man's knock-off of Lily St. Cyr, star of 52nd when it was "Strip Street" two decades earlier.
Here's a gal under the Follies marquee, with the performers' photos in the background. The photographer also has a close-up of the marquee, wrapped in light bulbs and featuring DESHA SHAUNEE, whoever she was, wherever she went.
obwantiag's flickr
Another color shot shows the spectacular signage from across the avenue. The billboard above advertised nothing more glamorous than plain and simple WOOL.
When the Gaiety opened in 1976, replacing the Follies Burlesk, the signage above HoJo's shifted--from girls to boys.
close-up, Gruen
close-up, Feininger--same view
By 1978, the painted strippers on the old Burlesk sign had peeled and flaked. They would be replaced by 1980 by a billboard for Howard Johnson's (And behind that Burger King sign hides the remnants of the grandest old Automat.)
1978, via Lost City
Wrote Josh Alan Friedman:
"Perched from my upstairs, extra-seating table view,
I saw the lights go on for the All Live Whirly*Girly Revue,
Broadway's worst burly-Q, first time since '62"
1980s, Carl Burton
I remember standing in Times Square in the early 1990s and looking up at the last remnant of the Follies, the sign for the ALL LIVE WHIRLY GIRLY REVUE. That's all that remained. And then it, too, was covered by billboards. I wondered when they tore down the building to put up an American Eagle Outfitters, was the sign still there? Did anyone bother to save it?
1992, Greenwich Village Daily Photo
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Rocco Gets Carboned
When the popular and still-expanding Torrisi restaurant venture took over the Thompson Street space occupied for 89 years by Rocco Ristorante, after a massive rent hike, we heard that the owner of Rocco's would be taking his great uncle's antique neon sign with him, along with the hope of moving it to a new space nearby. It had, after all, been casting its warm glow over the street since 1934.
But that plan would not come to pass.
2011
The Observer later reported: "Rocco’s owner threatened to take the landlord to court, and the classic neon red ROCCO sign with him... One thing about the Torrrisi boys’ growth into the old Rocco space is certain, however: They are definitely keeping the sign."
The new restaurant is called Carbone, after one of the Torrisi team members, and now the name has officially been added to the property--superimposed over Rocco Stanziano's.
the new old sign today (thanks to Frank for the pics)
The old neon tubes have been stripped out, the once-crooked WINES - LIQUORS has been rehabbed and straightened, and like an awkward tattoo cover up, in hot-pink neon the name CARBONE will soon be blazing across the belly of Rocco's rusted hulk.
"Carbone"
Again and again, in recent years, we've seen a trend where fashionable restaurateurs rehab the neon signs of classic joints when they take over and keep the existing name, i.e., the Beatrice Inn, the Minetta Tavern, Fedora.
In this case, we've got a hybrid, a new name on a classic sign, the new topping the old, keeping the souvenir of the past maintained for--what? A melancholy homage to the lost? Or cool cachet? Either way, it's a memento mori--a reminder that this, too, shall pass.
*Update: Grub Street follows up this post and asks some important questions: "So what does it mean, if anything, that the 'once-crooked' neon sign is hanging again with a new name on Thompson Street? Does New York have a nostalgia problem? As time goes on, more old, well-loved restaurants will certainly close and reopen as 'fashionable' spots, but if the new owners are essentially food-history geeks who are invested in tradition, does that make them tomb-raiders of New York City's restaurant history, really, or just keepers of the old-school flame? In other words, is the new sign cool or not?"
Further Reading:
Rocco Ristorante
Rocco's Update
Torrisi on Rocco
Rocco's and Bill's
Red-Sauce Joints
But that plan would not come to pass.
2011
The Observer later reported: "Rocco’s owner threatened to take the landlord to court, and the classic neon red ROCCO sign with him... One thing about the Torrrisi boys’ growth into the old Rocco space is certain, however: They are definitely keeping the sign."
The new restaurant is called Carbone, after one of the Torrisi team members, and now the name has officially been added to the property--superimposed over Rocco Stanziano's.
the new old sign today (thanks to Frank for the pics)
The old neon tubes have been stripped out, the once-crooked WINES - LIQUORS has been rehabbed and straightened, and like an awkward tattoo cover up, in hot-pink neon the name CARBONE will soon be blazing across the belly of Rocco's rusted hulk.
"Carbone"
Again and again, in recent years, we've seen a trend where fashionable restaurateurs rehab the neon signs of classic joints when they take over and keep the existing name, i.e., the Beatrice Inn, the Minetta Tavern, Fedora.
In this case, we've got a hybrid, a new name on a classic sign, the new topping the old, keeping the souvenir of the past maintained for--what? A melancholy homage to the lost? Or cool cachet? Either way, it's a memento mori--a reminder that this, too, shall pass.
*Update: Grub Street follows up this post and asks some important questions: "So what does it mean, if anything, that the 'once-crooked' neon sign is hanging again with a new name on Thompson Street? Does New York have a nostalgia problem? As time goes on, more old, well-loved restaurants will certainly close and reopen as 'fashionable' spots, but if the new owners are essentially food-history geeks who are invested in tradition, does that make them tomb-raiders of New York City's restaurant history, really, or just keepers of the old-school flame? In other words, is the new sign cool or not?"
Further Reading:
Rocco Ristorante
Rocco's Update
Torrisi on Rocco
Rocco's and Bill's
Red-Sauce Joints
Monday, January 21, 2013
NYPL: Lunch Hour
There's still time to enjoy Lunch Hour, the NYPL exhibit that celebrates the history of lunching in New York City. Free to all and located at the Main Branch (I refuse to call it by its new name) until February 17, the show is definitely worth the visit.
Filled with vintage menus and photos from places like Delmonico's, Sardi's, and Schrafft's, and an interview with the inventor of the stainless-steel hot dog cart, the show also has a few poetry treasures--a signed copy of Frank O'Hara's Lunch Poems and a hand-written version of W.H. Auden's "In Schrafft's," which begins:
Having finished the Blue-plate Special
And reached the coffee stage,
Stirring her cup she sat,
A somewhat shapeless figure
Of indeterminate age
In an undistinguished hat.
But the biggest draw of the Lunch Hour show is their restored Horn & Hardart Automat. If you squeeze your eyes, and imagine the scene in black and white, you can almost feel transported through time.
The best part is--you can touch this Automat. You can open its glass and brass windows and reach inside, as if for a slice of honey pie or a fresh donut, or a plate of cholent (everybody around you saying, "What was cholent?"). I slipped a nickel in, just to see what would happen. It rang through the machine and thunked down in the dark hollow of its inside, unwanted.
They've also got a screen showing clips of Automat scenes from Hollywood movies and television--in all of them, an impoverished young woman seeks sustenance. In That Girl, Marlo Thomas makes a poor woman's tomato soup from a bowl of hot water and ketchup. Automat worker Audrey Meadows slips a free chicken potpie to Doris Day in That Touch of Mink. And in 1934's Sadie McKee, Joan Crawford looks hungrily at a fellow diner's abandoned slice of lemon meringue--into which he extinguishes his cigarette.
An older couple next to me picked up the listening device to hear the film's sound, a lush cafeterial clatter. "Dishes and silverware," said the woman to her husband, "That's just what they really sounded like!"
Filled with vintage menus and photos from places like Delmonico's, Sardi's, and Schrafft's, and an interview with the inventor of the stainless-steel hot dog cart, the show also has a few poetry treasures--a signed copy of Frank O'Hara's Lunch Poems and a hand-written version of W.H. Auden's "In Schrafft's," which begins:
Having finished the Blue-plate Special
And reached the coffee stage,
Stirring her cup she sat,
A somewhat shapeless figure
Of indeterminate age
In an undistinguished hat.
But the biggest draw of the Lunch Hour show is their restored Horn & Hardart Automat. If you squeeze your eyes, and imagine the scene in black and white, you can almost feel transported through time.
The best part is--you can touch this Automat. You can open its glass and brass windows and reach inside, as if for a slice of honey pie or a fresh donut, or a plate of cholent (everybody around you saying, "What was cholent?"). I slipped a nickel in, just to see what would happen. It rang through the machine and thunked down in the dark hollow of its inside, unwanted.
They've also got a screen showing clips of Automat scenes from Hollywood movies and television--in all of them, an impoverished young woman seeks sustenance. In That Girl, Marlo Thomas makes a poor woman's tomato soup from a bowl of hot water and ketchup. Automat worker Audrey Meadows slips a free chicken potpie to Doris Day in That Touch of Mink. And in 1934's Sadie McKee, Joan Crawford looks hungrily at a fellow diner's abandoned slice of lemon meringue--into which he extinguishes his cigarette.
An older couple next to me picked up the listening device to hear the film's sound, a lush cafeterial clatter. "Dishes and silverware," said the woman to her husband, "That's just what they really sounded like!"
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Pushing Back 7-11
As the 7-11 convenience store chain continues its massive push, pressing forward with its clearly stated goal to consume New York City's bodegas with its "Business Conversion Plan," some East Villagers are taking action.
7-11 smashed on St. Mark's
Our friend Liberation reports the scene last night:
"There was a great turnout at the Father’s Heart Ministries to discuss the 7-11 coming to Avenue A and 11th Street. A really diverse crowd of 50 or so people showed up, all of them sick of the chain stores consuming the neighborhood and wanting to do their part to protect the local businesses with roots in the community. The meeting served as a jumping off point to brainstorm ideas and get more people involved. Because the group was diverse so are the skills they bring to table.
In the next few weeks people can expect a new website for the project and action steps people in the community can take to push back against 7-11 and, in the long term, possibly other chain stores looking to set up shop in the East Village. Reporters from the Times, Crains and DNAinfo were all there, so expect articles on the meeting in the next day or so. The general consensus was that people tolerated Starbucks, they tolerated Subway, but a 7-11 in the East Village is the last straw."
Read More:
7-11 Zombification
Chain Stores in the City
7-11 Strikes Again
& Please shop at Gem Spa instead--it's got gravitas
7-11 smashed on St. Mark's
Our friend Liberation reports the scene last night:
"There was a great turnout at the Father’s Heart Ministries to discuss the 7-11 coming to Avenue A and 11th Street. A really diverse crowd of 50 or so people showed up, all of them sick of the chain stores consuming the neighborhood and wanting to do their part to protect the local businesses with roots in the community. The meeting served as a jumping off point to brainstorm ideas and get more people involved. Because the group was diverse so are the skills they bring to table.
In the next few weeks people can expect a new website for the project and action steps people in the community can take to push back against 7-11 and, in the long term, possibly other chain stores looking to set up shop in the East Village. Reporters from the Times, Crains and DNAinfo were all there, so expect articles on the meeting in the next day or so. The general consensus was that people tolerated Starbucks, they tolerated Subway, but a 7-11 in the East Village is the last straw."
Read More:
7-11 Zombification
Chain Stores in the City
7-11 Strikes Again
& Please shop at Gem Spa instead--it's got gravitas
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Atlas to UPS
Back in May, the Atlas Barber School was forced out of its Astor Place location due to hiked rent after training barbers and offering cheap haircuts since 1948.
What's taking its place? A UPS store. Another national chain takes the place of a small, historic local business in the East Village.
Around the corner, at 51 Astor Place, the Death Star towers, dark and hulking. Has it already begun sucking the life force from our neighborhood? What will be its ultimate impact?
What's taking its place? A UPS store. Another national chain takes the place of a small, historic local business in the East Village.
Around the corner, at 51 Astor Place, the Death Star towers, dark and hulking. Has it already begun sucking the life force from our neighborhood? What will be its ultimate impact?
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