Vanishing New York Backup

In the Village People's video for "YMCA," a few glimpses of the vanished city. The piers, the Ramrod, and the original McBurney Y. In 2000, the Y -- where the Village People said you could go when you’re short on your dough -- moved to 14th Street and the old building went up for sale. Across from the Chelsea Hotel since 1904, it sold for $8.5 million, and then sold again in 2003 for $12.5 million. The upper floors of the were converted into large “ultraluxury” condos, while the lower floors were given over to the David Barton gym. In the Times , the new building owner said the gym would be a "one of a kind luxury spa." "They are planning a Turkish Room," he said, "with indoor waterfalls and eucalyptus scrubs done by men in sarongs, combined with afternoon tea." In the Voice , Michael Musto wrote about the grand opening. He reported, “scantily clad guys and gals sported the motto ‘Look better naked’ in body glitter or on T-shir

Today, Grieve notes a real estate listing that appears to be the death of the great DeRobertis Pasticceria on First Avenue in the East Village. When I asked the co-owner a few months ago if they were closing, he said "absolutely not." But who knows? We thought Manganaro's would stay when they sold their building and that did not happen. In these uncertain situations, it's best to go and enjoy the place while you can. DeRobertis is a treasure and it will be a tragedy if and when they vanish. From an interview I did with the owner , Annie, back in 2007: “People come in and tell me I don’t know how to make cappuccino," Annie said, incredulous. (She's only been making the beverage for 50 years.) "They tell me, 'Starbucks makes it this way.' I tell them, 'I’m here before Starbucks.' They want flavors. I tell them, 'I got flavors. You want a flavor? I’ll put it in.' Put it in? They look at me," with a look of disbelief. &

Tom Birchard, owner of Veselka, sent in the news that Jan Sun Laundry on 17th Street and Irving Place is closing after 45 years in business. Tom writes: "I moved to this street from the East Village eleven years ago and starting taking my shirts there. The gentleman who owns the business told me that when he immigrated here with his parents from Hong Kong the former residents of my brownstone took him under their wing and helped him acclimate to life in the US. They took him to the beach in the summer and helped him learn English. He eventually took over the laundry business and has been running it with his wife ever since. I know that New York is constantly changing but sometimes the loss of these neighborhood stores that make up the fabric of our daily lives really hurts. They will be gone at the end of the month." I talked to the owner's wife. She told me they decided to retire, after so many years of laundering, to travel and spend time with grandchildren. Sh

Founded by a group of firefighters, Suspenders Bar & Restaurant opened on lower Broadway in the Financial District in 1988. Tonight is their last night. photo: Midtown Lunch Reader Kevin Corrigan wrote in with the news: "Before I even sat down, I heard one of the bartenders saying, 'Yeah, tomorrow might be the last day.' I ordered a Guinness and overheard a few other things like, 'Are you going to move to another location?' I heard a waitress say, 'It's just too emotional for me right now.'" The Tribeca Trib reported the story earlier this month, writing that the pub's landlord, Capital Investments, refused to negotiate the lease or give an extension. June 1 was the closing date given, but I called the bar to confirm and tonight is the end for Suspenders. They'll stay open until midnight, as long as they get a crowd. photo: Kevin Corrigan After 9/11, Suspenders became a place for first responders to take a break, find co

Someone has started a Twitter feed and a Tumblr page called "Now It's a Fucking FroYo Place." "Tracking New York's downfall," one froyo place at a time, the site puts together Google Streetview images of city locations before and after they were taken over by frozen yogurt shops. "It was a photo shop," reads one entry, "and now it’s a fucking fro-yo place!" "It was a local bar," reads another, "and now it’s a fucking fro-yo place!" "It was a bodega...and now it’s a fucking fro-yo place!" You get the gist. To quote from Manhattan , "It's pithy yet degenerate." The lost places aren't all winners, but that's not the point. The point is that the streets of the city are being taken over by monoculture--chain stores, banks, condos--and the froyo place has come to exemplify a certain strain of this banality, one that is multiplying like a virus. So here's to "Fucking FroYo

On Delancey and Essex, the Olympic diner has been in business for nearly 35 years. They'll be closing soon. The mega-development known as Essex Crossing is coming, massive glass boxes filled with upscale retail, condos, a glitzy Warhol Museum, and some affordable housing. From the website : "Essex Crossing will feature a compelling array of restaurant, retail, entertainment, and office space highlighted by The Market Line... a continuous three-block shopping experience." Most of Essex Crossing will rise on parking lots, but here and there, some people and their businesses will need to be removed. The original Essex Market will be demolished, its vendors given a prime new space inside the development. (However, we hear the vendors' rents might go up, so who knows how that will actually shake out.) The Olympic is also in the way. I asked if they were getting a new space inside the glass box to come and was told, simply, "No." A young woman waiti

With Mars Bar gone and vanished, replaced by the "Jupiter 21" luxury building and now a TD Bank , along with a new bar coming that will serve organic juices and quinoa , I've said what I had to say about its considerable significance in the neighborhood. On a more personal note, for me the place will also be indelibly linked to Beat poet Jack Micheline . He introduced me to it when I was young and still new to the East Village. For what it's worth, I include here my journal entry about that night, my first time at Mars Bar--when I didn't even know the name of the place. It was exactly 20 years ago. Jack at Mars, photo: Ellen Lynn May 16, 1994 Last night I ran around the East Village with Jack Micheline. I met him up at Harris’ bookstore and we went out for coffee. We walked up and down the streets, stopping in bookshops and bars. He smoked Camels, unfiltered, one after the other, coughing and farting. We went into a bar somewhere around 1st Street. We

This weekend, the East Village celebrated the Grand Opening of another TD Bank -- on the sacred ground that once held Mars Bar. With free coffee and cookies, games to play and raffles to win, the energetic TD Bank people flanked the sidewalk in suits and ties, accompanied by a green-faced, wedge-shaped mascot who waved his mitts and thrust his pelvis in a delirious attempt to attract new recruits. It's all part of TD's aggressive expansion throughout the city. "Win prizes!" the bank people called as East Villagers walked by, some of them stopping for cookies. "Take a chance! You know you want to!" Inside, a bored-looking DJ in a TD Bank polo shirt played watered-down versions of 1980s punk and New Wave classics. If you stand on the spot where the long wooden bar used to be -- at the front by the windows where the sunlight used to ooze in through smeared and graffiti-covered glass -- if you stand there, with your back against the ghost of the b

Updated post: A reliable source is letting us know we should go to El Quijote very soon. In the interest of protecting the source's source, I've been asked not to say more at this time, and to delete the details previously shared in this post. All I've agreed to say is this: El Quijote has been in the Chelsea Hotel since 1930. It hasn't changed much since, and if you'd like to experience it as it's always been, go have a good, affordable meal while you still can. Changes are coming. Update: My information has now been confirmed via Eater .

In the summer of 1986, downtown videographer Nelson Sullivan filmed a group of drag queens on a walk from Times Square to the East Village. At some point, they run into RuPaul. And a shirtless guy in velvet pants with a large boombox on his shoulder. The streets, compared to today's throng, are practically empty. Ice cream cones are had at the dearly missed Howard Johnson's. RuPaul drifts down Avenue A in angel wings made of shredded paper, making a crunching noise in boots made of plastic grocery bags. These are not your fresh and clean drag queens of today.

This week, the Dirty Old 1970s New York City Facebook page posted a photo of a nondescript corner in the East Village. It's a simple image, but it has resonance and gravitas. Sven Kierst, 1981 The photo was taken by Sven Kierst in 1981. There's a brick wall covered with battered posters, a beat-up American car, and a punk making a call at a pair of pay phones. One reader identified the guy at the phones as Nick Marden, son of artist Brice Marden and Pauline Baez (sister of Joan), and member of The Stimulators . He was photographed in this same jacket by Robert Mapplethorpe in 1980. The location has been identified as the northwest corner of 7th Street and 2nd Avenue, and it looks like it, with some structural changes. At the time, Love Saves the Day was still in a small space over on 8th Street . The shop owners made some alterations, but the corner maintained its offbeat character until the late 2000s. 2008 The corner looks very different today. The payphon

Someday, sooner than I can stand, we won't quite remember what it feels like to enter a bookstore. To be in the presence of real books. The sweet papery aroma of it. The way your blood pressure pleasantly descends in that silent crowd. How the whole place holds you in its separate space, away from the world. I went in to Shakespeare & Co. on Broadway to saturate myself with it before this one, too, is gone. As Grieve first reported, the bookshop has lost its lease. The rent has been hiked to an insane $50,000 or more. I asked the cashier when they're closing. He wasn't sure, but figured it will be over by the end of June or the end of July. Who knows? "One day," he told me, "it'll just be gone. You'll come by and find a frozen yogurt shop here." They're currently having a 20% off sale. This bookstore always has the best displays, enticing tables of selections, helping you find your way to books you didn't know you wanted

VANISHING A tipster writes in about the imminent closing of Plantworks on East 4th Street: "I talked to the owner who said after 40 years they will be losing their lease, and are closing. The rent has gone up from $15k to $34k a month." Plantworks is being essentially kicked out. The shop will shut down May 31, with the outdoor garden center closing June 31.  This may have been in the works for awhile, as Grieve reported back in 2012 when a For Lease sign appeared in the window. Plantworks has been in business since 1974.

Good news. After being pushed off West 28th Street , thanks to the luxury High Line condo explosion, the Folsom Street East fair is returning June 22 --and it will happen just one block south, on West 27th Street. Organizer Dave Hughes told 1010 WINS , “We did community reach-out and talked to a lot of the businesses on 27th Street, and you know, a lot of the places we spoke to like the Hotel Americano were very encouraging, and so, you know, we decided to move.” On the Folsom East site , coordinator Gary Martin says, "We're thrilled to bring Folsom Street East back to the streets of New York City. We believe that 27th Street will be a great new venue for our event and are confident that our final permit will be approved in light of Community Board 4's unanimous recommendation to SAPO earlier this month that it go forward." So, happily, contrary to earlier reports , the High Line hyper-gentrification machine hasn't killed all the kink of Chelsea -- yet. W

For the past 34 years, a popular arts and crafts fair called Crafts on Columbus has thrived in a choice spot along Columbus Avenue between 77th and 81st Streets. For six weekends each year, white tents line Theodore Roosevelt Park. This coming weekend, however, is slated to be their last. Their permit expires this month and Community Board 7 denied a renewal . Peter Salwen , artist and author of Upper West Side Story: A History and Guide , has started a petition to save the fair . It has over 1,450 signatures so far. He calls the fair one of the great cultural features of the neighborhood. “In 1980,” he says, when the fair began, “the Upper West Side was a dangerous place. The fair contributed substantially to changing the area’s character. Now the artists are being attacked, as they were in SoHo and other parts of town, pushed out by the financiers .” Peter Salwen's paintings It’s unclear who exactly is responsible for the fair’s demise. Long-time fairgoer Pat Joseph s

After closing in January for an overhaul, Caffe Dante reopened last week. Thankfully, the re-do is not the total disaster that many of us worried about. The old signage remains, outside and painted on the windows, and the coffees and desserts are unchanged. It hasn't gone "artisanal." The yellowed old prints of Italy still hang on the walls, if a bit spruced in new frames. Sinatra plays over the speakers, not that guy who yodels over and over and over again about how happy he is. The feel of the place, however, is just not the same. Gone are the wobbly little tables and chairs that gave the space a cluttered and inviting look. They've been replaced by larger, sturdier tables and long banquettes. The old-fashioned cafe curtains that hung in the windows are also gone, along with those choice window-bench seats that seemed always to be reserved. Caffe Dante is still Caffe Dante, but it feels cooler, less comfy, not a place you can sink into, feeling held in

I can't remember exactly when was the first time I saw Todd Webb's gorgeous photograph " 6th Avenue Between 43rd and 44th Streets, New York, 1948 ," but it was years ago, maybe at MOMA, and I immediately fell in love with it. More than anything, I wanted to fall into it. Now the photograph has been blown up nearly to life-size, and hung in the windows across the length of the International Center of Photography . Stretching across several panels, the panorama reveals the entire west side length of the block from 66 years ago. It's incredibly crisp, showing every detail of the record shops, art supply stores, and bookstores, the light lunch joints and neon-sign restaurants. The second-story businesses specialize in typewriter repairs, a school for "talking picture operating," a Spanish-American billiard parlor. Most of the people walking on the sidewalk are men, with only two or three women among them, and they're almost all in hats. Gazin