Vanishing New York Backup

As we lose more and more diners, Neil's Coffee Shop (not vanishing, don't worry) deserves recognition for being a quality hold-out from the old city. On Lexington and 70th, Neil's has been here for half a century--and it's got the signage to prove it, from the brilliant pink neon sign to the all-caps COFFEE SHOP on the front, to the cursive Neil's suspended on a white cloud around the side. Inside, tucked up by the ceiling, above the Greek-themed murals, you'll find framed head shots of mostly forgotten stars. But there are a few luminaries. Jim Fowler, originally of the beloved Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom , has a place of honor above the register with two photos, right next to Steve Martin. There's also Tony Randall, Howard Cosell, and Liza Minelli, who draws a heart and writes "Finally!" Finally what? Finally, she got herself to Neil's Coffee Shop, after longing to do so for a great while? Finally, she brought in the pho

These shoes appeared recently inside the fence at the spot that was once Billy's Antiques on Houston Street. They have since vanished. Enjoy.

In 2009, I did a post about 3rd Avenue between 13th and 14th Streets . In the comments section, people started talking about the Dugout, an old dive bar on the block. I asked if anyone had a photo of the bar, but nothing turned up. Just a shadowy glimpse of it in a quick scene from Taxi Driver . Ask, be patient, and ye shall receive. Three years later, Jason Fernau sends in the following photo. circa 1983 Jason also shares his Memories of the Dugout, 1982-1984: The Dugout was halfway underground, you had those 3 steel plate covered steps descending down to the doors, wide steps like on a loading dock. Then one more step down and you were in. My recollection is that the lighting was all fluorescent, and was really bright as well, much brighter than a bar should be. Daytime it was bright fluorescent and the view out the doors was the vista of the sidewalk with the traffic behind it. People walking by were viewed from the thighs down. So you might see a miniskirt and great

Alan Wolfson is a master of the miniature. He has shown us a miniature Canal Street and talked with us about his tiny Times Square . Now he shares the wonders of his little Katz's deli. Commissioned by a former New Yorker who wanted a work to remind him of his childhood days at the deli, the piece is called "Closing Time." Alan writes, "Since I don’t put miniature people in my pieces how could I justify that a restaurant that is always crowded had no customers lining up for their world famous pastrami sandwiches? I decided to create a scene that takes place right after closing time, during the cleanup. Dirty plates are waiting to be removed, chairs are stacked on the tables and mops and buckets are at the ready." And this isn't Katz's 2012, either. The exterior wall is papered in posters for Blondie, The Ramones, and Patti Smith. Alan's work comes from the greasy, gritty 1970s and 80s. This griminess is obvious in the mini Katz'

Reader Scott stopped by the University Restaurant last night after it had closed forever . He found this sign: Scott writes, "A loyal customer, Margaret Laino (margielaino@gmail.com) had put up a sign and was urging people to reach out to the landlord to express their desire for a similar establishment to take UR's place. She said UR hadn't paid rent in 6 months. Landlord's contact is as follows (chandrapersaud@suttongarrellrealty.com; 646.300.4891)." Margaret's sign reads: "Neighbors for a Viable Village want to save our neighborhood diner. After 60 years of continuous service it is closing on Wed. Sept 19, 2012. Please join us in strongly urging Sutton-Garret Real Estate (212-593-3388) to only consider renting to a similar diner/restaurant: one that is low-key (soft lighting), affordable, with the same welcoming, friendly feeling. NO! to franchises, bankfronts, noisy bars, phone stores. NO! to pizza fronts with garish lighting .”    It's

VANISHING It Was Her New York and Alex in NYC both shared the upsetting news yesterday that the University Restaurant diner, on University and 12th Street, is closing. Today is their last day in business. I went by for a quick cup of coffee. This is one of the last--if not the last--diners in the neighborhood. It was my go-to place in that area, and I will miss it. The last time I went, I sat next to a crotchety, older New York couple. She was counting out her vitamins and he was helping. Sort of. I wrote down everything they said on a Milky Way advertisement in the magazine I was reading. It's the kind of scene you just don't get except in diners like this one. (Names have been changed to protect the innocent.) (this is not the crotchety couple) Woman: There's something wrong with Sunny. She's eating too much cat food. She doesn't sleep with me anymore. Man: No, she sleeps with me. Woman: Does she? Seriously, tell me, where does she sleep? Tell

The Nolita foodies may be encroaching from the north, but the feast still reigns on Mulberry Street. This year, the Grand Procession was led by Italian-American sweetheart Connie Francis. The lady once known as Concetta Rosa Maria Franconero rode in the back of a red Cadillac with a beauty queen. She later signed autographs on the Main Stage, greeting a long line of fans with warmth and patience. I was a big Connie Francis fan as a kid. Previously: Gennaro Class War Nolita vs. the Feast

VANISHING Last week, the 9/11-memorial "Tiles for America" was removed from the chain-link fence at the corner of Greenwich Avenue and 7th Avenue. Volunteers carefully clipped the tiles' wires and placed them into boxes. The tiles came down because the MTA is ready to build their controversial ventilation plant at Mulray Square (the non-Edward Hopper corner that still has an interesting history). The Tiles for America Preservation Project has a website and a petition you can sign to ensure that the tiles don't end up sitting in a basement in Albany. The organization has a plan to move them nearby, on display, so they stay in the Village, but they need help with donations . Find out more from this video:

Check out three new dreams on the Vanishing NY dream blog. One about a man dancing in a thong by the going-out-of-business electronics shops, another about E.B. White and Maeve Brennan , and one from Goggla about frat boys turning the shuttered South Street Seaport into a "floating beer garden."

I ran into our friend Romy Ashby , author and blogger at Walkers in the City , right in front of the Sweet Banana Candy Store on the doomed block of 9th Avenue in Chelsea. She told me a story about Debbie Harry and how the candy store almost became a Blondie song. not in the mood to have her picture taken "Debbie lived in the neighborhood too, and she used to walk by here all the time. If memory serves, she liked the little scene happening out in front of the candy store every afternoon, all the kids hanging out enjoying themselves, and she loved the name Sweet Banana. It must have been the late 90s, and I remember her saying, 'You ever go by the Sweet Banana Candy Store? I want to write a song and call it that .'" "We were writing songs together for the upcoming Blondie record, and we had some melodies that Chris Stein had put together. So we tried writing one about the Candy Store and we got some lyrics with 'Sweet Banana' in the chorus and we sang i

The coming death of NYCHA: "New York is big, but not that big. The pressure increases each time a fresh-faced college grad steps off a plane to drink in the cool new bar on the (formerly) sketchy side of town . Ten years ago, the sight of the Bushwick projects was a signal to lock the car doors and drive faster. Now they are the backdrop for the romance of the struggling artist con condo. Robert Moses might have done his best to place the developments as far from the main stem as possible, but now the city is coming to the projects." [ NYM ] That was fast. Recently shuttered Lafayette French pastry shop already re-branded by Bao: Check out Chris Arnade's lovely photos of the city's pigeon keepers . [ Flickr ] Narratively NYC is now live --learn about a piano mover and the city's female taxi drivers. [ NNYC ] Pick up a copy of New York Originals , the book about NYC mom-and-pop shops. [ youtube ] Enjoy Chekhov for Children --and 1970s NYC. [ Fandor ] Maira

Awhile ago, when The Famous Ray's Pizza at 6th Ave. and 11th St. shuttered (then bounced around in limbo, later revived by the original owner as Famous Roio's ), I thought about how the little pizza shop served as a memorial for the missing in the days after 9/11. At the time, I wrote up this post, but never published it. Today seems like a good day for it. The Atlantic , 2001 I remember walking down that block and seeing all the flyers, but I'm not sure why Ray's Pizza, and not another place, became a memorial site, only that it was a block away from St. Vincent's Hospital and that maybe families stopped here to take a break, have an inexpensive meal, and share information. The 9/11 flyers taped in bunches to the bricks of St. Vincent's were so many, they spilled over, running down the block--taped to the London plane trees, to light poles, to No Parking sign posts--until they reached Ray's where they gathered again, like water running into a

Recently, New York magazine featured a story about the Torrisi restaurant team going "old-school." In the photo, the entrepreneurs smile and toast their new endeavor, "Carbone," under the stripped neon sign of vanished Rocco Restaurant. New York For those with short memories, the 89-year-old Village restaurant was pushed out last year , even though business was thriving. Torrisi signed a lease, with a massively hiked rent. Third-generation owner Antonio Da Silva fought and lost. As one commenter says at the online article: " How can you write that they are paying tribute to the 'vanishing relics' when they are the reason one of the real relics (Roccos) vanished? I am very close with the former owner, and they were pushed out only to be replicated and paid homage to? I find it to be so distasteful." On the next page of the magazine, there's a featurette entitled "History Buffs, " about how trendy, monied restaur

Last spring, I noted the reappearance of a glass sign for J. Yormark Shoes over on 8th Avenue near Jane. A barber shop had moved in and saved the old sign. At the time, I couldn't find any photos of the original shoe store. Now family member Cindee Weiss sends in some wonderful shots of the old shop, its workers, and clientele. 15 8th Ave. 68 Clinton St. ( later Falai ) The photos and their story came to Cindee from Ken Yormark and Renee Yormark Entin, the grandchildren of Harry Yormark, nephew of Jacob and Joseph, the shoe store's founders. They write: "In 1886, 17-year-old Jacob immigrated from the Austro-Hungarian Empire (later known as Poland) to the United States, where he and his brother Joseph, who immigrated in 1889 at age 19, opened two shoe stores. Somewhere between 1892 and 1897, Jacob’s store became J. Yormark Shoes at 15 8th Avenue. Joseph’s store, J. Yormark Fine Shoes, also pictured here, was located nearby at 68 Clinton Street. Harry eventually took ov

One More Folded Sunset discovered this incredible little documentary-- 6 stories of people who live on various Third Avenues in 1980 New York City. It begins in a junkyard, then moves to the Bowery (13:00)--where a bum reclines in the street and tells the camera, "Do you know who I am? I'm an eccentric millionaire," before we go into a bar where not a single fashion model is sipping a Pimm's Cup. Next, a deeply sad trip to a tenement in the Bronx. Meanwhile, a young gay hustler washes down his illegal prescription drugs with a can of Yoo-Hoo before taking us into seedy Times Square (36:00), including a glimpse of the vanished Playland where boys as young as seven sell their bodies. While Mr. Lopez works hard and spreads the word of God, his kids are doing drugs in the streets. At the end, we meet an Italian family and the mother is fan-fucking-tastic--don't miss her. It's all good. Watch the whole thing...