Vanishing New York Backup

When La Lunchonette closed on New Year's Eve , forced out of business after the landlord sold the building, I wondered what would replace it -- and what would happen to the little house behind the front tenement along West 18th Street. Berenice Abbott photographed the house in 1938, along with its equally diminutive neighbor. via MCNY Probably dating back to the 1880s , the two structures are hardly changed today. One had clearly been a stable for horses. It still has its arched hayloft window. The interior of the living space above the restaurant looks like a hayloft, with wooden beams and ceiling. But it won't be here for long. La Lunchonette's owner Melva Max told me that the little house will be demolished. A new luxury condo is coming. People are excited about it because it's made of wood, it's designed by Shop, the architects who did the Barclays Center, and we're all paying for it , through a $1.5 million grant from the U.S. Department of Ag

VANISHING By now you've probably heard the news that the Ziegfeld movie theater will be closing after 46 years. It is "not a movie palace from the golden-age of movie palaces," as James Barron recently pointed out . But it was modeled on them, upholstered in red velvet with crystal chandeliers and plaster filigree. It is not the original Ziegfeld , opened in 1927 and demolished in 1966 against public protest. The original was meant for live theater, the Ziegfeld Follies, not movies. When it opened, Will Rogers said, "I hope you never have to put in a movie screen." But it did eventually become a movie house, before it was sold, razed (along with two apartment buildings), and replaced by a skyscraper. When the current Ziegfeld opened, the owners celebrated its "space-age technology." Ziegfeld's daughter, Patricia, remarked, " Progress seems to do nasty things to tradition, doesn't it? " But, she continued, "tradition

No, not the one in Grand Central Terminal. The other one, over on 7th Avenue and 54th Street. You might remember it was forced out of business in 2014 after 55 years . At the time, the restaurant's hostess told me that the new landlord refused to renew their lease. "I think she'll keep it empty," she said. "I think the building is coming down." She was right. The Oyster Bar has sat empty ever since --their neon sign moved to Delancey --and now plans have been filed to demolish the building. New York Yimby reports that a 29-story, mixed-use building is coming to replace the Oyster Bar's building and its little neighbor: "Retail will occupy the first six floors, filling 38,236 square feet. The seventh floor will be devoted to recreation space, and then the eighth through 19th floors will have three units each. There will be just two units a piece on the top ten floors, followed by a roof deck." On it goes.

Recently, I took a walk by the once glorious Lenox Lounge . After three years, the building is still sitting empty -- and up for rent. What happened to all those grand plans to take over this piece of Harlem history? After 73 years in business, the club served its last drinks on New Year's Eve, December 31, 2012. The landlord had doubled the rent, from $10,000 to $20,000 per month, essentially forcing owner Alvin Reed out of business. Richie Notar, of luxury restaurant chain Nobu, was taking over the spot. At the time, many suspected this was another--call it a history grab, like the takeover of Rocco Ristorante , Bill's Gay 90s , Minetta Tavern , and countless other historic dining and drinking establishments. Deep-pocketed new owners with mini restaurant empires like to cash in on the cachet that comes with the classics--after they turn them upscale, of course. Instead of letting the newcomers profit on Harlem history, so infused in the club's aesthetic, Alvin

VANISHING Adding to the ever dwindling number of gay businesses on Chelsea's 8th Avenue, The Starting Line will be closing. They've been in business here for about 26 years, according to tipster TJ. Currently, they're having a 30% off everything sale, and will likely be gone in about a month. photo: NY Mag Previously vanished along 8th Ave: Camouflage Rainbows & Triangles The Unicorn The Rawhide

Last spring, Curbed reported that the Tammany Hall building on Union Square East will be topped by a large glass dome as part of a major renovation. As you can see from the before-and-after renderings, all the small businesses currently on the first floor have been removed from the future vision. That removal is happening. I went by the find the owners of the magazine and smoke shop closing their gates for good. Frank's Wines & Liquors is draped with a large CLOSING SALE! sign. Inside, I was told that "the landlord is redoing everything." They've been there at least 40 years and don't expect to be reopening. The Trevi Deli on the corner is already gone. Around the corner on 17th Street, the building housed two cultural institutions, the New York Film Academy and the Union Square Theater. The Film Academy has now moved down to Bowling Green. They'd been in the Tammany building since 1994. The Union Square Theater has also closed.

VANISHING Since 1983, The Sock Man , aka Marty Rosen, has been selling socks on St. Mark's Place. Now a reader writes in to say the end is near. She says that Rosen is "being forced off St. Mark's Place forever due to Real Estate tyrannical fascism. It breaks my heart to help him pack up the store." E.V. Grieve broke the news yesterday, noting the last day of business may be January 18 . With Trash & Vaudeville going, Sounds going, and pretty much everything else gone, St. Mark's is dead and keeps on dying. Like many of those old-school spots and their proprietors, Rosen embodies the vanishing neighborhood spirit -- curmudgeonly, idiosyncratic, the real deal. Chloe Sevigny once called him " the grumpiest man on Earth . He's like the Soup Nazi, but he sells socks." Rosen embraced the moniker, replying, "I'm the Sock Nazi." He's also got a fine-looking #SaveNYC sign hanging prominently in the Sock Man window

I went out to Coney Island on New Year's Day and it was good to see all the oddballs again. I used to love to go out there, but I don't anymore, though New Year's Day was an exception. It made me think about all the colorful characters we used to see in the East Village, before the life was sucked out of the neighborhood, and I was thinking especially of Baby Dee . Here's something I wrote sometime back in the 1990s: One hot afternoon I took the train out to Coney Island to see the Sideshows by the Seashore. I got off at Brighton Beach and walked out under the shadowy roar of the El, bought a hot knish at Mrs. Stahl’s , and then followed the boardwalk to Coney, past the old Russians playing chess, and one lone trumpeter blowing his song to the sea over the stretch of sun-bright sand. Coney was jumping with the summertime crowds, a giddy throng of sweaty bodies, half-naked, sticky with ice-cream drippings and cotton candy, tipsy on cheap beer. I passed the Cyclone, t

Recently, Bizarre Publishing released photographer Meryl Meisler's book of photos, Purgatory & Paradise: Sassy '70s Suburbia and The City . In the book, Meisler "juxtaposes intimate images of home life on Long Island alongside NYC street and night life – the likes of which have never been seen. Quirky, nostalgic and a bit naughty, it’s a genuine cultural capsule of a decade that captivates today’s generation." I asked the photographer a couple of questions. Q: How do you see suburbia and the city as different and/or similar in the 1970s? Where did the cultures and aesthetics overlap and diverge? A: From my personal perspective, both NYC and Long Island people identified as New Yorkers. Most of the Long Islanders I knew had a strong connection to The City, whereas the connection of city dwellers to Long Island was less apparent (unless they summered at LI beaches or had family there). The majority of the people I grew up with in Long Island had roots in