By Caitlin Hawke

​Nice and simple today: The Marseilles in all her glory.  For another historic image of the Marseilles, see this post.

By Caitlin Hawke

Ok, for folks who park on the street, this post might get your Irish up. It entails the eventual loss of three parking spaces on Central Park West.

That's the bad news.  But the good news is that what I am about to report is a story of grassroots efforts to increase safety and improve aesthetics of "Strangers' Gate" -- the W. 106th Street portal to Central Park.

Thanks to neighbors' efforts, in particular to transportation advocate Peter Frishauf with help from Henry Rinehart, in mid-January Community Board 7 passed a resolution to improve access to this entrance to Central Park by opening the curb and prohibiting parking immediately outside it. Department of Transportation signage should be updated soon so that the approach will look like the photo below instead of the view in the photo above.

This will protect pedestrians who flow through Strangers' Gate, affording them better visibility of traffic on Central Park West and giving drivers a much better chance of seeing exiting and entering park goers.

I love the name of this gate and was vaguely aware that many of the park's entrances bear names. In fact, there are twenty named gates. Each honors a special population of New York City in an early nod to the fact that this vast green space was to be 'the People's Park.'  You might have been entering the park at W. 100th Street all these years and not have realized that that is Boys' Gate. Of course, anyone can go through it. But if you want to use Girls' Gate, you're going to have to go clear around to E. 102nd Street. Or you can pop down to the Dakota and enter through Women's Gate.

The key to the 20 gates is below.

The bitter irony of naming the gates for different NYC populations is that in creating Central Park, land was taken by eminent domain, and the African-American neighborhood known as Seneca Village was demolished in 1857. You won't see a Seneca Gate on the list below, but the rich history of Seneca Village is becoming better known.

The story has been told in recent plays and films, by creative writers, historians and archeologists. I will be posting more about it over the month of February. But while thinking about our newly visible Strangers' Gate, I wanted to pause and think about those who are largely invisible, those who were dispossessed of their homes, whose community was razed, and whose story was mostly lost -- all in the push to create a park that is a stranger to none of us.

Choose any of these 20 gates and enter this urban sanctuary with a thought toward Seneca Village on your way in.

By Caitlin Hawke

​I usually reserve this rubric, 'Seen in the Neighborhood', for unexpected but pleasing things I stumble on in Bloomingdale. This time, not so much.  It's more about things not seen in the neighborhood, such as: your mail, your holiday packages, old-style mailboxes.

The good news is that the USPS has finally -- as of some weeks ago -- gotten around to swapping out most of our pulldown-lidded mailboxes with ones that have thin letter slits instead. The hope is to thwart all the "check fishing" that thieves are doing with glue traps. This way of intercepting checks is not unique to NYC, it's happening in lots of places. But, frankly, I thought the response was not terribly swift.

Putting a letter in the mail is something we all should be able to take for granted, especially in the wealthiest country in the world. In the letter goes, and delivered it gets.

Long gone are the times of multiple daily letter deliveries. And yes, modern technology has supplanted the need for much mail. And yes, too, I recognize that most mail is unwanted. But that's another story.

It boils down to this: when you mail something, you shouldn't have to ask yourself whether it will get there intact or get there at all.

But I think a lot of us are asking.

Just as these new mailboxes appeared, in unrelated incidents neighbors suffered a spate of lobby thefts. The holidays bring nothing if not packages, big and small. UPS, FedEx, USPS are regularly double-parked while drivers dip into buildings with armfuls of boxes. Because the carriers have huge volume to contend at the end of the year, many will resort to dropping your deliveries without a signature, right inside your lobby whether it is attended or not. That can be great if you can't be there to receive your package. But less great if someone slips into your building and gets to your package before you.

And that's what the M.O. seems to have been. At high delivery times, one or several interlopers were working the streets, slipping into vestibules and lobbies and ferrying out packages of all sorts.

This was happening up and down W. 102nd Street. I noticed signs along the south side of W. 102nd Street with a message to the thief in question, blaring that they had him on security cam footage. If you had a package stolen, maybe you'll comment below about where and when it occurred.

The truth is, this goes on all year long, not just at holiday times.  So make sure you tell your shippers that you want to sign for your package if you've positively, absolutely got to receive it. If not, you might find yourself in a special limbo where the package tracking system shows it was delivered, the carrier says he or she dropped it off, but you never saw it! Claims have to be made and replacement shipments are not guaranteed.

But wait, there's more. Just last week, neighbor David Olshefski posted the picture below online. It seems that within the Cathedral Station post office on W. 104th Street, there's been an ongoing issue of letters and packages being ripped or cut open with money and goods removed.

David tells me that Danny O'Donnell's office is looking into this trend and has a staff member collecting photos like the one below for an investigation. If items in your mail have been stolen or you are experiencing inexplicable incidents of mangled mail, take a photo and/or describe the incident and email it to Liam Galligan in Danny O'Donnell's office: galliganl@nyassembly.gov.
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This kind of data could help the USPS determine if patterns emerge that can narrow in on the "pain point" in the chain of possession.

I've always had a soft spot for the postal service. I love my carriers and have found their service to be unfailing. But if we want to keep these jobs, keep the postal service, and fend off the much-menaced-by-Amazon sci delivery drones that we joke are the future, USPS is going to have to tighten controls inside and outside.

And while we're fixing this, could we also get "Microsoft" to stop calling us from some far off country every day to tell us we have a virus on our computer?

Thanks, that would be grand.

H/t and thanks to David O. for this photo and contact information in the O'Donnell office.

By Caitlin Hawke

One of the posts I never got to last year was this charming shot. It comes from a gentleman who grew up around here and recalled, among other things, going to the Horn and Hardart automat, to the Armstead beauty salon (where Henry's was), to the TV store nearby and the candy store, Pollak's. Suba was Armstead Pharmacy back then and had a soda fountain where Mark's brother worked.

So readers may recall when the Hudes sign reappeared after the 103rd St. deli closed. Mark recalls that whenever he went into Hudes, the lady who ran it would give him half a salami sandwich.

Those were the days, my friends!

If you know someone who went to Booker T. in the early 1950s or if you know someone in the picture, email me with your stories! 

By Caitlin Hawke

Neighbors, as many of you already well know, there's been a true blue spectacle of a miracle come true. 

Our beloved West Side Rag got in there first to cover a familiar sad song and then, heroically, to amplify the message of a couple New Yorkers who'd thrown up their sashes, mad as Hades, screaming "I'm not going to take it anymore."

It all started just a few short days ago when WSRag writer Carol Tannenhauser and publisher Avi Salzman put out into the ether a melancholic story the likes of which we've read time and time before. Death by a thousand cuts of Mom & Pops gone down. This time it was Westsider Books, longtime purveyor of used books at Broadway and 81st Street, putting out the last call and walking over to the light switch to call it a day.

What ensued was just plain amazing to watch in real time. Bobby Panza, inspired by a line in Carol's article, fired up a crowdfunder page on GoFundMe. Local philanthropist Sally Martell fueled the endeavor with a jump-starting $10K donation; the Rag got in there with its great coverage (major hat tip to Avi for being the pillar of UWS communications), and then other press outlets and booklover fora amplified the message thanks to Bobby.  In what seems like a blink over $50K was raised from 818 (and counting) donors from near and far at an average donation of 64 bucks.

That's right. You heard me. A line in the sand was drawn. A few angels lofted up on their wings. And a veritable flood of good-willed neighbors and bibliofolks stopped 'taking it' and started a grassroots blaze of love for...wait for it...used books. Books! Old New York. Simple, old-time, hardworking merchants. Honest trade. City texture. Cultural color. Apparently, we, together, hold these truths to be self evident.

That 50K enables the store's owners to live another day, to bridge to the future, and to remain. For now.

Old Bloomingdaler Christopher Ming Ryan got in there like he did for Joon Fish Market (covered in Part 2 of this series) and captured it on film with Evan Fairbanks in yet another beautiful mini-documentary. (If you are an email subscriber of this blog, to see it you have to go to the blog post title above and read this post online). 

Readers, that is what I call an excellent day in the neighborhood. But we're not off the hook. Lights go out up and down Broadway every month. And if we are not putting our boots on the ground and crossing their thresholds to support them, we have no right to be perturbed.

Put down your tablets and laptops and go drop some cash at our hardware stores, cobblers, delis (if you can find them), small restaurants and specialty stores. Tell them you love them with your business. Tell our city officials that commercial storefront vacancies are intolerable and antithetical to thriving cities.

And then bask in the glory of this miracle come true. The miracle is you.


With thanks to Bobby, Sally, Avi, Carol, Chris, Evan and to the owners of the 818 feet that were put firmly down punctuating the collective cry: "no more!" My heart is full of love for you all. And to the owners and staff of Westsider Books, long may you ride.

Above I am embedding the film that Chris and Evan made. More of Chris's labors of love may be viewed here: https://www.facebook.com/DisappearingNYC.

And I leave you with the "Lagniappe du jour" courtesy of Barry M.

By Caitlin Hawke

This is the second in what you might think of as a diptych of posts. My last Throwback post digging into the story of the Beastie Boys' genesis in the Grimm Building led me down a long rabbit hole of fascination for the structure. If you didn't see that one, click here to read the nitty gritty Beastie story.

For part two now, here in images from 1867 to present is a documentation of that remarkably unchanged site, the NW corner of 100th Street and Broadway.

​It's rare that a building is so well documented over the years, so the gallery was great fun to pull together.

Recall in my prior post that this site does not enjoy landmarked status thanks to the gimme carveouts all along Broadway -- see the map on the prior post to understand what this means.

I don't know. Maybe I am just too in love with the past. But it defies any sort of reason or logic that our preservationists wouldn't protect this special building. Before the wonky land use and real estate savvy folks start to get impatient with me, I do get that it has been altered over the years, and that the Metro owners put a lot into it to bring it back from decrepitude.  But so many readers have a huge place in their Bloomingdale hearts for this one, it just seems like a no-brainer that we, as a community, might go the extra mile for this nigh on 150 year-old structure.

​Enjoy the picture show below.  

To navigate this photo gallery, click on the arrows or press the play button.
Note: If you are reading this in an email subscription, you may have to click on the
blog post title to view the gallery, or click here.

By Caitlin Hawke

The slideshow above should start automatically.
​To navigate this photo gallery, click on the arrows or press the play button.
Note: If you are reading this in an email subscription, you may have to click on the
blog post title to view the gallery, or click here.

​The wonderful series of photos above documents a weekly outing over the past few winters to the rink in the northeast corner of Central Park.

It all started in 2015, when neighbor and BAiPer Miriam Duhan pitched the idea to me of creating a regular group of neighbors who would skate together. It was part of our TriBloomingdale Initiative in conjunction with BAiP and the 104th Street Block Association. And while lots of folks signed up, Miriam ended up skating alone or with just one other person more often than not.

We reassessed, and she soon became a regular volunteer for Hostelling International New York where each week she leads travelers through Central Park and up to the Lasker rink for an early morning skate. Above are the images that chronicle her very popular seasonal group featuring many travelers coming from warmer countries who'd never skated before.

I caught up with Miriam about her passion for skating, and we discussed her gig at the hostel (scroll down for the interview). Many neighbors don't know what a vibrant place the 103rd Street hostel is. It's a beautiful Amsterdam Avenue landmark, saved and then landmarked in 1983 thanks to neighbors' efforts after Fred Chapman and Linda Yowell, both Columbia University students, had done the research and major lift. Since 1990, the hostel has  welcome thousands of international and U.S. travelers each year. Pam Tice at the Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group knows the building's story better than most and lucky for us she wrote it up here.

Miriam Duhan has lived in our area since 1989. Her children were already grown when she moved in. She got involved in her block association on 104th Street, eventually joining its board. She left the board just as BAiP was getting started and has been an active member since then, which led to the original skating idea. 

Lucky for the hostel, this idea evolved to be geared for their visitors, and from the gallery above, you can see the pure joy in that the simple act of a skate can bring.  (Don't neglect to scroll all the way down for today's lagniappe).


Interview with Miriam Duhan

Caitlin Hawke: How did you get started on the ice?
Miriam Duhan: My knees were bothering me and an orthopedist suggested that it was time for me to stop jogging.  I was very sad.  But I happened upon skating accompanying my grandchildren (at the time 4 and 7) to their skating lessons at Lasker Rink. Perfect, low impact on the knees.  I had skated as a child and from time to time throughout my life, and I always loved to do it on my birthday. So I decided to go weekly but wanted company. This eventually led to becoming an official volunteer at the hostel.  


Caitlin: There’s a series of iconic sepia photos that I am sure you know of Victorian New Yorkers skating in Central Park, with  the Dakota in the background and an otherwise little developed Central Park West. The skating area looks huge and is packed with skaters. What has changed besides the climate?
Miriam: I went to the exhibit about skating in New York at the Museum of the City of New York and apparently skating was a craze in New York in the 1800s and early 20th century.  It clearly was more reliably cold because there were a lot of places which were just flooded and used for skating, including some lawns in Central Park.  I don’t remember when the first artificially frozen rinks appeared.  I do remember the last time the Harlem Meer was frozen solid.  I think it was in 2015.  Lots of people wanted to walk or play on the Meer, but the police chased everyone off.  I saw it when I was on my way to Lasker.

In terms of a skating culture, one thing I love about being at Lasker is that a couple of schools on the east side bring the kids there every week for PE, starting in pre-k.  The teachers I spoke to said that they wanted to give the kids a lifelong skill.  The pre-k’s are the cutest to watch and the 4th graders are excellent skaters. My first year when I had no other companions, I made friends with some of the kids, and we enjoyed seeing each other every week.  (Note: with regard to youth skating, the NYT recently covered the afterschool program Figure Skating in Harlem, a program for leadership and academic development as well as skating. That article is here.)

Caitlin: When and where did you learn how to skate?
Miriam:Probably when I was in 5th grade.  There was a rink near where I lived in Roslyn Heights.  I don’t remember any lessons, it was just for fun and very popular.  There were a few times when a natural lake in Westbury froze over, and I skated there. As an adult living in Brooklyn, I skated in Prospect Park from time to time with my own kids and then on a lake in our village when I lived upstate. True, funny story: For my 30th birthday, I told my husband that what I wanted to do was go skating in Prospect Park.  We got a babysitter and went. After about ten minutes he complained that his legs were hurting so badly that we had to stop.  (I should have smelled a rat; he’d been a speed skater in high school).  So we decided to go to see my brother in Greenwich Village, and there was a surprise party for me. I have never gotten over my disappointment! I try to go skating on my birthday whenever I can.

Caitlin: What is your favorite place to skate of all time? 
Miriam: No favorite.  Anyplace I skate on my birthday makes me happy.

Caitlin: Who is your favorite person to skate with?
Miriam: Everyone!!

Caitlin: Speed or figure?
Miriam: Figure. Every year now, I fix a goal of improvement and work on it a bit every week.  This year its turning from skating forwards to skating backwards and from backwards to forwards.  I’m very careful because, like other seniors, I don’t want to fall and break a bone.  So far so good.

Caitlin: What’s your best move? Can you do any jumps?
Miriam: My feet never leave the ice. What I like to do is enjoy the music (lovely jazz in the mornings) and dance. 

Caitlin: Since you started volunteering for the hostel, and we made this into, more or less, a youth outing, though I know travelers of all ages join you. What have you learned about hostelers?
Miriam: They’re enthusiastic and adventurous.  They think skating in Central Park is very romantic – especially if there’s snow. There’s always a huge sign-up list, though not all come. There's so much going on at the hostel.  And they are really caring.  One person told me that she unexpectedly arrived in NY in the middle of the night, no place to stay, and the hostel was full.  They gave her a couch to crash on until a space opened up.

Caitlin: What’s a typical outing like?
Miriam: Many are traveling on their own, and they easily talk to each other on the walk over and during the skate time. Quite a few show up alone and leave with new companions interested in the same things to do next. There is no set end time.  People leave when they’re ready or just sit and watch for a while. I’m on the ice for about an hour and that’s enough for most people, but some stay longer. Some go back to the hostel, some stay in the park or go elsewhere. I like to find out about them, but with big groups I only get to talk to a few people.  On the ice, people with experience help and encourage newbies.  I’m not a teacher, but I check to make sure beginners have tightened their skates properly. I encourage them to just go. The brain figures it out after a couple of times around. Almost everyone does well by the end. From time to time there’s a really good skater who helps others and sometimes teaches me something. On the ice there’s lots of picture taking.  There’s also picture taking when we pass the waterfall in the park on the way over.  I should also say that the first couple of years I got to know the staff at the Lasker skating rink, and they have been so lovely to us. 

Caitlin: How do you feel during and after the skate?
Miriam: Happy and exhilarated.  (In the afternoon I usually need a nap, but I doubt that the travelers do!)

Caitlin: Has your volunteering changed how you might travel? 
Miriam: Hadn’t thought about travel skate experiences, but it’s a good idea.  I think if I was traveling alone I’d try a hostel. And I’m encouraging my grandchildren to do so. One traveled on his own to Amsterdam, stayed at a hostel and had a wonderful time. 

Caitlin: Do you have any great rinks or skating experiences on your bucket list?
Miriam: I’m thinking about visiting all the skating venues in New York. That’s as far as I’ve imagined.  

Caitlin: Last question: do you have any advice for beginners or rusty skaters?  
Miriam: Yes. Get out there, make sure your skates are snug around the ankles, hold on to the rail as long as you need it and move your feet. About two rounds is usually enough for people to start getting the feel of it. When your ankles feel tired or tense, get off the ice and take a break, then go back. Check out Youtube first.  Recently a Costa Rican told me she’d gotten advice that way. I could see her doing the things she’d been advised and pretty soon she was flying!


Readers, as a lagniappe, I am throwing in an archival 1902 video from the Library of Congress. It shows  what looks like a thousand skaters on the Lake in Central Park just at the level of the Dakota. Just look at them all!

​If you are reading this in an email subscription, you have to click on the blog post title to view the video or click here.

By Caitlin Hawke

A good while back, when I posted a quizlet on the architectural detail seen here, many readers replied quickly. Of course Pam Tice got it in a heartbeat, as did Lorne Sharf, Anthony Bellov and others. Anthony wrote that the Grimm building (aka 2641 Broadway, home of the Metro Diner) is "definitely the oldest remaining building on the Upper West Side - period." 

The wooden structure was built in 1871 and run for a few years by Henry Grimm as a grocery, with apartments above. Grimm was foreclosed on and the building soon became The Boulevard House, a respite for travelers, reflecting the slow to develop state of upper Broadway (then known as the Boulevard).

Anthony also shared that, "in 1894, a German immigrant named Peter Doelger, a brewer who owned many saloons, bought the building. The bar was in front and a respectable restaurant in back. He lived at 280 Riverside right down the street. The saloon closed with Prohibition and became a seller of ladies' finery and then even a theater."

Interesting side note from the wonderful Forgotten New York: Peter Doelger was Mae West's uncle. So she may have lifted a pint or two there.

For more on Doelger, see this great post from the Daytonian in Manhattan.

At the time of the quizlet, neighbor Elizabeth del Alamo also quickly chimed in that the Grimm building is reputed to be the last wooden building in Manhattan. I haven't fact checked that but am sure she's right about it being the oldest on the UWS. Elizabeth recalled that the Grimm building was the subject of a New Yorker cartoon, probably from the early 1980s. I failed to find the cartoon and would love it if a reader would send it to me at blog@w102-103blockassn.org.

Emily Berleth told me that when she was a youngster, there was a pottery studio on the second floor where the salon is now.

I, of course, remember it in the late 1980s as La Tacita d'Oro. The album cover above and below depict Tacita faithfully. And I'd give anything to have their café con leche in my little golden cup again. The Metro Diner replaced it in 1993, and I recall that Tacita moved south before it shuttered completely about 12 or so years ago.

All these are great tidbits, but Jim Henderson topped them all with his tip off that this was where one of the first (white) hiphop supergroups -- the Beastie Boys -- had their inaugural concert on August 5, 1981, in founding member and guitarist John Berry's father's building on Adam Yauch's 17th birthday. John's father, also John, was a "1930s-style left-leaning intellectual with a serious work ethic" who was editor in chief of Library Journal" (p. 52 Beastie Boys Book). As a single dad, he gave his son a lot of leeway in terms of band practice but when he got home, the band stopped playing in deference to his intellectual downtime after work.

The bassist had his buddies over to practice in his third floor bedroom, and, according to Rolling Stone, the "first Beastie Boys shows took place at Berry’s old loft...where a small crowd gathered to hear the fledgling hardcore/punk band." The site popturf.com reported that that same evening "Dave Parsons of the Rat Cage record store said that he wanted to start recording bands, and asked the Beastie Boys if they were interested. They said yes, and the Polly Wog Stew EP was the result" and the Rat Cage label was born for what that is worth to music historians.

A great description appears in the new Beastie Boys Book:
"How do I even begin to describe this place? Start with the fact that it was an old, squat, three-story wooden structure in the middle of a concrete jungle, like someone had forgotten to tear the place down when they were building the rest of the modern city. Also, for a wood building, it was ancient, literally a hundred years old; it had been a saloon in the late 1800s -- before the streets up here were even f*&*ing paved -- and the place looked and felt like it hadn’t been touched since. It was a dilapidated, sagging, slant-roofed structure of rotting wood, parked in a sea of concrete, brick, and steel. At that point there was a greasy Cuban-Chinese restaurant on the ground floor (that’s right Cuban Chinese). John and his dad lived above the restaurant. John's bedroom, where we practiced, was the building's third-floor loft; the second floor was a single open room, but not like a glamorous designer loft. Large windows were set in rotting and splintered wooden frames. Fading and chipped paint covered the clapboard. Every piece of furniture looked like it had been found on the street.... Framed picture of Che Guevara, books on Lenin and Trotsky, and pamphlets about the IRA lay around the house.... Upper Broadway at that time was like a multicultural mixtape. Salsa blaring on one block, a JVC boombox playing rap outside a housing project on the next, sounds of AM broadcasts from Panasonic clock radios coming out to the opened windows on the next. Across 100th Street from John's place was the large residential hotel -- politely known as an SRO (single-room occupancy) building, and impolitely known as a flophouse....The constant hubbub across the street worked out well for us...because it allowed us to play music as loud as we wanted....We were pretty far down the precinct to-do list. So we'd just set up and practice after school on the third floor....When we weren't actually practicing, our whole cast of characters just hung out and played music full blast... [For the inaugural 1981 makeshift concert] maybe two dozen people showed up. Us. the Bag Ladies, a few of Yauch's oldest friends, and Dave Parsons and his girlfriend, Cathy, from a newly opened and really cool downtown record store called Rat Cage." (pp. 51-55, Beastie Boys Book)

Berry was sometimes credited for coming up with the name for the group which, perhaps tongue-in-cheekily, was said to be an acronym for "Boys Entering Anarchistic States Towards Inner Excellence." Other early members included Kate Schellenbach, "Mike D" aka Michael Diamond, and "MCA" aka Adam Yauch. "Ad-Rock" (Adam Horovitz) joined later after the departure of Berry and Schellenbach.

The Grimm building was also the location where, again thanks to the Berrys, Beastie side-project Big Fat Love formed in 1984. The structure in all its wabi-sabi greatness was featured on their album "Hell House" in an illustration on front and in a photo on the back. An homage to the building (was it in fact the hell house?) appeared in the album's liner notes:

"Big Fat Love's sound is unlike any other Beastie Boys side-project and may take a few listens before one gets into it or out of it, as the case may be. The music though is a wonderful document to just how creatively diverse this group of musicians could be. When people ask about this period in the band's history, Thomas Beller described it best in the liner notes: "Big Fat Love was organized around a particular living space, in this case a house, where several of the band members lived and where, in the mid-80's, an amorphous and slightly derelict group of people spent time. Big Fat Love didn't move to the house as a band, they just sprung up out of the house the way that, in the right conditions, a random bit of plant life springs up from a crack in the sidewalk." (Quoted from the site Beastiemania.com; also more here.).

Sadly John Berry died at the age of 52 in 2016.

If you weren't a Beasties fan, you might at least recall their top Billboard hit "(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party!)" in 1987.  Their place in rap history was sealed forever by the success of the album "Licensed to Ill" which was the first rap album to hit No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart. 

If you were a fan, you might enjoy the audio embedded below from the NPR radio show "Wait wait...don't tell me" that I heard on December 22. It seems the surviving members have a new book out. The last of the beasts now tamed, the boys have turned to men, less anarchic and ever so slightly more capitalistic, now packing a license to shill.

Times change. The Grimm building has remained, but the scary part is that this wooden relic is not landmarked. So, stay tuned for next week's continued homage to the Building Grimm.

The Metro owners put a lot of cash and TLC into the refurbish they did before opening in the early 1990s. Thankfully, the diner seems to be going strong. But, incredibly, the Grimm building site was included in the controversial Broadway carveouts and didn't make the cut in the 2015 landmark ruling that protected so much of the area west of Broadway.

I hope the Grimm building will endure given the New York miracle that it's pushing 147 years old without landmark status.
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Many thanks to all the above readers for chiming in. Clearly, this building has captivated many of us, if not the powers that be at LPC!
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Note: If you are reading this via an email subscription, you'll have to click on the blog post title to listen to the radio audio.

By Caitlin Hawke

Last week, I left you with one version of a 2018 recap (if you missed it, you will find it here). Now, I want to look forward.

My father has a very particular, clean-and-dry 1950s style sense of humor. Throughout my childhood, he would ghostwrite wry insider predictions for the year to come for the New Year’s newsletter of a Congressman who shall remain nameless. Before he submitted them to be published under the Congressman's name, we would gather with my mother and siblings in the kitchen as my father read his cheeky premonitions aloud, cracking his own self up as we all laughed through the list. It’s a tradition that I miss.

So, in that spirit and with great admiration for my dad's humor, here now are my top ten predictions for Bloomingdale in 2019.

10. The long-mired construction of the W. 103rd Street brownstone will miraculously be expedited and completed in 2019, and in 2022 will be purchased by Senator-elect Ocasio-Cortez for use as her NYS HQ.

9. That Bloomingdaler Samantha Bee will take on the story of the Ginkgo of West End, giving it full Full Frontal treatment and sentencing the perp to a lifetime soundtrack of the soft-thudding sounds of ripe ginkgo berries falling on pavement and to a year's worth of meals that taste the way ginkgos smell.

8. That Henry Rinehart, formerly of Henry’s, will return to the restaurant business by transforming the old Abbey Pub into a swank new speak-easy and the password for entry will be “Bennie the Bum.”

7. That an important, show-stopping sculpture will be erected in the Broadway median at 106th Street opposite Straus Park — a long lost work that the American Venus, Audrey Munson, posed for in her old age, giving lie to the adage that youth is beauty, and turning that crossroads into the Mecca for Munson mavens the world over.

6. That instead of the hotly-lit plasmas delivering ads to us as a captive audience on the subway platform during our interminable waits, the MTA will instead feature gorgeous old pictures of the neighborhood celebrating the history of Bloomingdale curated by our own Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group.

5. That the granddaughter/son of the erst-while and missed owner, Jessie Salha, of Cafe Amiana, also known as Au Petit Beurre, will return in glory to the neighborhood and transform the now ridiculously-long-vacant HSBC space into a glorious plant-filled, warmly carpeted, electronic-device-free cafe with backgammon and chess sets for patrons young and old. It will become the new town square and a gold mine for the young entrepreneur, and greedy landlords throughout the catchment will rue their decision to leave storefronts empty when the way forward to everyone's good fortune was just sitting here all along.

4. That the DOT, in all its wisdom, will realize that their inability to cope with systemic flooding at curb cuts during winter melt is actually an asset; and with little extra effort (and less salt) they will turn these unjumpable puddles into full-fledged skating rinks simply by diverting the flow across the entire street. It is my further prediction that the great West End Avenue rinks will be subject of a takeover action by the Trump Organization in a vicious branding dispute which will last until global warming renders the legal action moot.

3. That soon a new app will make street parking profitable, not for the city but for the car owner, by allowing drivers to contract with the hit Falun Gong spectacle “Shen Yun” to place magnetized ads on your car doors, hoods and roofs, turning your alternate-side of the street jig into a lucrative new-economy gig causing you to leave your day job and no longer need a car.

2. That the Metro theater will finally come alive again as Bloomingdale’s — yes, the department store — finally opens an uptown branch in Bloomingdale, a long overdue hat tip to our naming rights and clearing up all confusion that we came first.

1. And my number one prediction for Bloomingdale in 2019 is that New Plaza Cinema, the start-up nonprofit group that grew from the ashes of Lincoln Plaza Cinema, will take up residency in the crazy old Turkuaz space, deeding back to the neighborhood its moving-loving future.

Happy New Year, neighbors. And may some of these actually come true.

By Caitlin Hawke

Well, neighbors, we’re coming quickly to the end of 2018. And I don’t know about you, but it sure flew by for me. I remember last year’s polar vortex like it was yesterday. 

Taking stock, I can measure the year in the number of blog posts I've gotten up, despite that I have such a backlog of potential posts. It puts me in a perpetual state of disappointment that I don’t have more time. Still, I looked at the log and see a grand total of 85 posts in 2018. That’s the most in one year since I started maintaining the site in April 2014. But the guilt persists, and I will try to roll out some of the treasures sitting in my desktop folder ominously marked "Blog To Do."

As I often write, our neighborhood is a very inspiring muse. Like Bob L. or John K. and so many others of you who love to “noodle” in different neighborhoods, I always enjoy a good city walk — looking for a bit of old New York. Or at least authentic New York. It’s getting harder to find, but it’s there in pockets. And those walks, no matter where, always remind me how much I love my home turf: bookended by two great parks, sleepier than the now mall-like UWS, relatively low-lying in terms of the architecture, and so luminous. Bloomingdale has it all.

Add to that the great history, and that’s what makes it so satisfying to chronicle.

Bloomingdale also has a tradition of community -- from the "Old Community" supplanted by Park West Village whose spirit truly lives on (and gave rise to the Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group), to the community fostered by this Block Association with half a dozen events and four newsletters each year, to the communities that our neighboring block association and the one Bloomingdale Aging in Place has built over the last 10 years. That's just four quick examples, and there are many micro-communities in between, too.

When I reflect on what at times seems to be the electronic and political dystopia taking hold, I have to say all this community-building that has come naturally in Bloomingdale gives me quite a bit of hope going forward -- especially if new neighbors will join in, roll up sleeves and take up the tradition.

As part of my ongoing love letter to our piece of the Manhattan pie, I wanted to offer back up some of the slices from the year gone by — posts that have received great traffic from readers together with the ones I most enjoyed writing. It's far from an exhaustive list of the 2018 posts. But it's perhaps the cream.

Have a look at the links below and then perhaps you’ll write with your favorites to blog@w102-103blockassn.org or in the comments section of this post.

In any case, I appreciate that you read along throughout the year, and I send best wishes for an excellent 2019.  If you know nearby neighbors who would enjoy the blog, send them this link where they can subscribe.

And now to the Year in Blog Favorites....


​
To read each post, click on the corresponding image at left or the hyperlinked text. If you are reading this post in an email subscription, it may be easier to view directly on the website.

​• Bob on Broadway: Dylan's Powerful Residency at the Beacon
Then if you want, gild the lily with a post to honor his 77th birthday here.
Yes, a bit of a stretch for the Bloomingdale catchment, but I'm counting on you to humor me. It took all I had to refrain from writing about The Public's Girl from the North Country and its superb cast including the luscious drummer in red, the boxer, and Mare Winningham -- three actors who stole the show. Look for Girl on Broadway soon.

​• Beautiful Block of Riverside Drive: Seven Beauties in Our Midst
Author Dan Wakin digs into the history of 330-337 Riverside Drive.
Pictured at left: Bennie the Bum with the sawed-off leg, not pictured!

​• Women's Suffrage & Bloomingdaler Harriot Stanton Blatch
Elizabeth Cady Stanton's remarkable daughter Harriot (a babe in arms at left) lived right here. Read more about the fight in NYC to get women the vote, including the effort to get Columbia's men to the polls.

​• Nightmare on 102nd Street
Always a blog favorite, the annual Block Association Halloween Party "Ghouls' Gallery", replete with a visitation from King George the Wee. The party is just one offering of the Block Association; for other B.A. event coverage in 2018, see this link.

​• Estelle Parsons: Triple Threat of a Neighbor
What do I love about Miss Parsons? Everything!
Her intensity and her energy are her superpowers that allow her to thieve every scene she's in. Catch her in this Bloomingdale walkabout. Probably the year's most-viewed blog post!  The lady has a legion of fans.

​​• Manfred Kirchheimer's Time Encapsulated
​What do I love about filmmaker Manny Kirchheimer? Also everything!
​A Bloomingdaler for five and a half decades, he's chronicled the city in his contemplative documentaries along with the odd fiction such as the film "Short Circuit" at left, shot entirely in our neighborhood.

​​• Throwback Thursday Spotlights 1920 Victrola Store
​Throwback Thursday: Bloomingdale Edition is the section of the blog where I feature historical pictures and tidbits. A trove of these await publication, time permitting in 2019. Emanuel Blout's Victrola store, circa 1920, was my favorite this year. Have a TBT favorite? Let me know in the comments.
You can view all TBT: BE posts here.

​​• Throwback Thursday: The Divine Tight Line & Philippe Petit
​This TBT: BE post comes in a close second place.
​Discover the neighborhood feat of the great tightrope walker Petit, high on Amsterdam Avenue. And divine as ever.

​
​​• JFK Impersonator Vaughn Meader on the UWS
​JFK would have turned 101 in 2018 and in his honor this post unearths the wonderful two albums that comedian Vaughn Meader turned out before the stars fell down and the curtain closed on Camelot.

​​​• Catching Up with Hedy Campbell
​Four years and 330 posts ago, Hedy asked me to write for the blog. The idea was to pick up where the creators had left off and fill in the gaps between quarterly Block Association newsletter issues. Without breaking a sweat, Hedy has turned out the publication since 1987 -- a massive feat if ever there was one. The blog is child's play by comparison. I end the highlights of 2018 with Hedy because she is a neighborhood jewel whose efforts have helped build and sustain a community feeling now for over 30 years. It's a team effort to be sure, so this hat tip goes to all folks who value this organization.

And now is your chance to help sustain it!
​
Join us by becoming a member here.


Catch you in 2019 for more Throwbacks,
more Hyper Local Eats, more Bloomingdale,
and, yes, probably more Bob Dylan.
​Thanks for reading.

By Caitlin Hawke

Neighbors, sing the shortday blues adieu. It's the ancient tradition of marking the Winter solstice, and we're doing it with song.

Songsheets are downloadable here.

By Caitlin Hawke

On this blog, I've written a lot about enterprise on Broadway, so much so that there's a whole category at the right where I tag just those posts. (To dive in, you can see, in particular, Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 of the series I call "Empty Storefronts and the Changing Streetscape.)

Generally speaking, the series has chronicled the uptick in long-empty retail spaces, the loss of Mom & Pops, and the darkening of movie houses. Now I turn to the shuttering in October of three dine-in restaurants in such quick succession that if leaves me wondering if a new trend is afoot.

Either way, gone are Mezzogiorno, Il Gatto Nero and Henry's; all of these folded up shop in October.

Notoriously hard to sustain, eateries represent a key piece of the retail ecosystem. But they are as sensitive to rent and labor increases as any other commerce.  However, unlike the old Broadway shopper's pivot to patronizing etailers, New Yorkers still dine in their neighborhoods.

Take for example, the closure on October 14 of Mezzogiorno (2791 Broadway) which was in the old Indian Cafe space north of W. 107th Street. After a very lengthy, costly renovation, this gentrifier of an Italian spot opened in 2015 just as its owners were preparing to close the chic, decades-old SoHo location. A surprise to all, I think, they looked to Bloomingdale to resettle. I concluded at the time that the rent savings made the uptown operation viable. And yet three years later, it has closed. Perhaps Bloomingdalers didn't care for the higher price point or the flush old regulars didn't find their way uptown. The clock struck mezzanotte at Mezzogiorno, and their 31-year run is now over.

Then, Il Gatto Nero, just a block south at W. 106th Street (2758 Broadway), also closed suddenly in early October "unable to carry on in this economy." It had only been open a handful of months, having replaced the well-received but overpriced-for-what-it-was Macchina. That machine is now a ghost having died young, too. 

Yelp reviews praised each of these places (though there was the legendary takedown or two). And they attracted nods of approval from the Michelin guide, for what that's worth. They just didn't keep us pouring through their doors.

Of the three, the one loss that stings was Henry’s. News came only a week or two before the October 21 closure, when owner Henry Rinehart announced in an email his plans to move on from his Frank-Lloyd-Wrightian restaurant that stood at W. 105th Street for 19 years and bore his name. Henry's replaced Birdland for those of you who recall back to the space's jazzier days. Rinehart’s reason was "a change in personal and professional priorities." The business has now passed to Henry’s partner chef Scott Snyder and his Boulevard Seafood Company, soon to be reviewed in these pages.  You may be relieved to learn that the famous kale salad will die another day since Chef Snyder didn't nudge it off the menu.

Under Rinehart, Henry's was, to many, a Cheers -- the sitcom bar made famous by an ensemble of wry barflies yearning for a 'third place' to take a break from their worries. Hopping bar scene. Sports mecca. Brunch spot. Outdoor cafe. Neighborhood sing-in club. An ample Thanksgiving table away from the hearth or for the weary home cook. A place where if they didn't know your name, at least they acknowledged you as a regular. Henry’s had it all and was a big player in the community. And if that isn't enough, Henry himself was an advocate for healthier school lunches.

I don't doubt that many felt Henry's had its gentrifying side when it first took root. It was always a bit above other local haunts in terms of cost. I noticed that prices crept upward recently. Perhaps to fend off what became an inevitable battle to reap profit out of such expansive square footage. Alas, Henry's is no more.

To paraphrase James Carville, I wonder if what I am observing isn’t along the lines of the temple-thumping exclamation: “It's the rent, stupid!” — similar to the problem with the Mom & Pop die off. But the answer may be more complex. Restaurants might be competing with the availability of high-end prepared foods that come from Whole Foods or West Side Market, or with the quality specialty ingredients home cooks can now find at Trader Joe’s and H Mart, among other groceries.

As I say above, restaurants don’t yet seem to be victims of etailers like Amazon, but is something other than rent pressure weighing on the old-style dine-in spots? Is it that the market only bears up to a certain menu price point around here? Or is it just a matter of time before more Serafinas move in, more large restaurants go vacant, or just more turnover occurs?

Fortunately, city council members regularly take up the topic of commercial rents, mindful of all the vacancies. Unfortunately, the needle never moves much. It seems early to say, but we might be seeing a little progress with new legislation sponsored and small business committee hearings held by Ydanis Rodriguez. Councilmember Helen Rosenthal is also a proponent.

Called the “Small Business Jobs Survival Act,” the bill aims to define conditions and requirements for commercial lease renewal negotiations, requirements for lease renewal terms, arbitration-triggering conditions, limits on security deposits, and prohibitions on landlord retaliation.

I’ve been writing about the changing streetscape a lot because some days I feel like we’re in the 11th hour, the 59th minute of what I view as a retail crisis on Broadway. And while restaurants may not be as endangered as Mom & Pop retailers, I truly hope we don't wait until the last minute to solve the economics of Broadway. We can see with our own eyes that the law of supply and demand has been subverted. But it can be fixed.  But sadly not in time to sing for our supper at Henry’s.

By Caitlin Hawke

A quick hat tip to neighbor Betsy Goldberg and the shareholders of the Master building in whose gallery Betsy's art will be on display until January 26. An earnest request to the door person at 310 Riverside might get you a peek at her canvases in the lobby of the Master.

For more art, don't miss Julia Spring's "Meet Your Talented Neighbors" column in the Block Association newsletter covering other artists and their various gigs.

By Caitlin Hawke

Ladies and gentlemen, friends and neighbors. Let it be said that the week was good to us on Broadway. For starters, after a good soaking rain, we got repaved up in Bloomingdale (thank you DOT -- not a moment too soon). And a wee mile south of here, Bob Dylan gave us a little shelter from the storm.

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you might roll your eyes that I am squeezing Dylan in again. But I can't help it. The idea that the nonplussed Nobelist would take up a seven-night residency in my neighborhood gave me two full months of delicious anticipation. Over the weeks, I sprinkled in a couple of trips to The Public to see Conor McPherson's play "Girl from the North Country" to stave off the yearning. It satisfied and distracted me enough to get me to Thanksgiving and then just one week remained 'til I walked down our main drag to the Beacon to take in Dylan's fifth of seven Upper West Side shows.

Before I tell you about the concert -- and like Donald Fagen, Ringo Starr, and the irredeemable jerk who ruined the most beautiful ballad of the show last night before he was ejected by Beacon muscle, perhaps you also made your way to the Beacon and will tell me in the comments how you experienced this round -- I need to say a little something about this Homer from Hibbing, notorious for thin wild mercury ways. 

One: he never, ever, ever gives you what you think you are going to get or even what (you think) you want. Let me give you an analogy that comes from a past experience. Say you were cooking with Bob. And you both decided that you would get home early, lay out all the ingredients and then when he got home you would cook together. And say you had in mind using what was familiar and on hand. So, you saw reason to make an omelet and set out eggs, which you pre-beat, some onions, tomatoes, perhaps some cheese. When he comes home, you think to you yourself, the two of you will jump into action, utterly in sync, and whip that omelet up. Man gets home. Sees the path you are leading him down. Feels a tad fenced in. And before you know it, he's added bonito flakes, shredded seaweed and toasted sesame seeds to your eggs and is serving it up katsu-style over rice. Your head spins.

I am not sure if you follow my digression. But Bob will not be defined. Nor will he go where you want or expect. Best to come to your seat and see what the Master whips up. And just be thankful he's still cookin'.

Two: his Nobel was for literature, but it could just as easily have been for the art of imitation. He is the ne plus ultra of mimicry. His muse comes in many forms, and one is to incarnate others. Think Johnny Cash and country Bob's Nashville Skyline Voice. Think of his blues. His gospel. His Rolling Stones-like Rock and Roll. Think of his recent crooning and complete embodiment of Sinatra. When Bob goes on an impersonating jag, he goes deep and he goes long.

So, on Thursday night, I was open to the unexpected. Last year this time, he was Bing-Bob, Sinatra-Bob. But my friends, after five full LPs of ol' Blue Eyes covers, the crooner fever seems to have broken.

Instead we got a concept show of Bob deconstructing Bob.  Bob on Bob, if you will.

Beacon-Bob has delivered this whole week long a resounding reply to Bruce Springsteen's Broadway gig. Where Bruce was stripped down, solo, Bob was still kitted out with the best band in the business. But make no mistake: this show was to Springsteen's like a response to a call. 

He crafted it to be fully immersive. From the curtain that rose (see what I mean about Bruce on Bway?) telling us we were in a show, to the uniform-clad boys in the band in that bath of warm incandescent lighting, to the sumptuous set with his gleaming Oscar for "Wonder Boys" and an unexplained classical bust of a woman on prominent display, to the shiny baby grand that he would Jerry-Lee-Lewis into submission: Dylan's point this week -- and presumably on this leg of the Never Ending Tour -- was to create an ambiance and a full-on 'concept spectacle.' And once the physical part of the stage was set, he and his boys turned to the metaphysics of this concept piece: the playing, and the smithing of the old into the new.

Throughout the concert, I kept imagining how each new rendition of so many deeply familiar songs had come to their novel melodies and arrangements.  Was it Bob solo in his studio reworking them? Did he consult a producer? Did the band work it all out together?  My best guess it the former. What's true is that he always does this change up, switching in new melodies and making old songs hard to recognize until the chorus betrays the novelty. Akin to the way a jazz musician riffs and keeps it interesting, Bob's method can hardly be faulted; he's been out on the road for 50 years. Clearly, performing scratches an itch for him. But strictly on his terms. And he refuses to let his art bore or grind him down.

When Paul Simon retired from touring recently, he said he'd been out there so long he felt like he was a cover band for his own music, phoning in "You Can Call Me Al" and deriving no pleasure from being a performance monkey, feeling the audience's demand to deliver each song precisely as recorded to no longer be a bearable endeavor.

At the Beacon this week, on our boulevard, Dylan delivered transformative versions of his songs, not stripped down like Bruce Springsteen's. But tightly conceived to pack in the ambiance he wanted to stagecraft: spiked with American 1950s music, Jerry Lee Lewis was definitely in the house. Tinged with some rocking Warren Zevon. There was even a trace of Daniel Lanois, though Dylan would fight that thought.

To understand, you have to listen for yourself. I am putting a link to a rough recording of Tuesday night's show at the bottom of this post (if you are receiving this in an email, you'll need to click on the title of the post at top to go to the blog page and stream it from there). But if you feel it's a slog to go through the whole concert or if you are not a Dylanista but are a bit curious, perhaps skipping to these three selections will make it easier on you, and yes, I get that this is an acquired taste, the rough audience recording and the gruff singing. So if it's not for you, it's not for you.

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right 1:09:35
Gotta Serve Somebody 1:32:09
Blowin' In The Wind 1:42:44

Keep in mind that listening to the guerilla concert recording won't come close to the full experience Dylan conceived for this residency.

So, better yet try to get in! You have exactly ONE more chance in this limited UWS engagement because on Saturday night after the last gig, he pushes on for Philly where he's the inaugural act for "The Met Philadelphia" -- Oscar Hammerstein's eponymous grandfather's 110-year-old opera house.

In our nation's first capital, I can't think of a better fanfare to herald the Met's new life than a performance by our national treasure declaring his independence. As indeed he does every time he goes on stage.

That's Dylan. "Always on the outside of whatever side there was. When they asked him why it had to be that way, 'Well,' he answered, 'just because.'"

The full concert recording above will not appear if you are receiving this in an email; click on the title of the post to see the video on the blog or go to youtube.

By Caitlin Hawke

The Bloomingdale School of Music at 323 West 108th Street wants to spread the love.

These days we can all use a little love. So here’s a chance to share some music, to make some music, or to learn a bit more about how to make time for making music from author Amy Nathan.

On Thursday, December 6 at 7 p.m., a meet up and free concert will feature a range of players from beginner pianists to jazz ensemble and chamber players. A wine and cheese reception follow.

See below for details and to RSVP or to request information, please email events@bsmny.org.

By Caitlin Hawke

Spearheaded by neighbors Nancy Macagno and Pam Tice, the Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group have pulled together a program "Bloomingdale Blocks" featuring the history of how block associations got started in these parts with help from the Citizens Committee for New York City. Note the groovy detail from our June 15, 1972, newsletter showing the then-directors of this BA looking like they stepped right out of the musical Hair.

David Reich, Mort Berkowitz and Jean Jaworek all will present.Details in the flyer below.

​Come on out on Tuesday and give thanks.

In the meantime, a very happy TG to you all!

By Caitlin Hawke

She turns 91 today. The great Estelle Parsons. No better way to celebrate her verve, than to watch her walk the neighborhood in the interview below.  If you are receiving this post by email subscription, you'll have to go to the blog to see this video that will, I guarantee, delight you. If you don't come away shaking your head as to why she isn't in her own starring role each and every season on Broadway, I will come shake your head for you. It's an oft-repeated truism that we need more roles for women, more roles for women older than 40, more roles written by women. And more roles for Estelle Parsons. Maybe you saw her in August Osage County or perhaps as Clyde Barrow's sister-in-law, Blanche back in the day.

Her intensity and her energy are her superpowers that allow her to thieve every scene she's in.

Below, I give you, Estelle Parsons, in her natural habitat, and a hat tip to her on her birthday!

By Caitlin Hawke

It's late on a Thursday so you'll have this throwback on Friday. But do come travel with me in time to just about two months after Black Tuesday, 1929. The new year 1930 has been rung in, it's good and cold, the Great Depression has begun. But unemployment won't peak for three more years in the city. 

And the great bellowing lung of our neighborhood, Straus Park, pays it all no heed. For here is a town square where folks of all ages come to inhale the fresh, crisp air and to entertain one another. An era before TV, the golden age of radio shines by night, but by day by golly the folks are out.

Fortunate in many ways, but in one we are not: we lack a town square. We lack that knowledge that you can fall out on a daily basis into the local pocket park and meet all your neighbors. It's why I love the yard sales that the Block Associations put on.  It's why BAiP's community-building mission is so needed.

We have forgotten how to commune in our own backyard.

The video below is extraordinary for its quality, its crystal clear sound, and the uncanny you-are-there feeling. See Straus Park -- less green, ok -- but more vibrant than you've ever seen it before. See all modes of 1930s transportation, including a rollerskater and a period pram. Get a good gander at Broadway looking north from its intersection at West End Avenue. And get a peep of the back of "Memory" -- far from the star of this movie.

It's perfection. A talkie of a time capsule. And it's yours if you click on the image above since if you are reading this in an email subscription the video won't play.

​Enjoy!

h/t to the West Side Rag comments section for bringing this beaut to the surface.

The "One from the Vault" feature plumbs the archives of back issues of block association newsletters for new neighbors and lovers of our community and its history.  To read others pieces from the vault, click on the category at right.


By Caitlin Hawke

First, I want to note the kindness of Chris Brady who gave me permission to illustrate this post with his technicolor photos of the Movie Place (TMP), the way it was. I found them at Chris's photo feed here a while back, and they stopped me cold, for the love of a place I remember so well. I've been saving them for you.

Incredibly, gone for 12 years already, the Movie Place hasn't come close to being replaced around here in its role as a neighborhood hub drawing from north, south, east and west. Never mind its mom-and-pop-edness.

The last owner of TMP was Gary Dennis, who is equally known for his efforts to get Humphrey Bogart his due by the dubbing of W. 103rd Street for him, replete with a ceremonial appearance of Bacall. Yes, right here in Bloomingdale.

I wrote a piece about that here last year. 

Now I love Bogie and Bacall as much and perhaps more than most. But it takes a force of nature like Gary to move city elements -- NYCHA et al -- get the naming done. So I want you to remember that when you are walking the block between West End Avenue and Broadway on 103rd staring at a "This is Us" rerun on your smartphone. Look Up! For the love of the silver screen, look up. Look up from your big sleep and appreciate that you trace Humphrey DeForest Bogart's footsteps as he left his home at 245 W. 103rd St. and padded over to the Trinity School. He lived there from about December 25, 1899 until he enlisted in the navy in 1918.

But I digress.

I still see Gary around from time to time. At a Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group meeting last year, he gave a great presentation on the neighborhood as portrayed in films. Many chase scenes later, he had the audience eating out of his hands.

He used to keep a wonky blog on lost cinema houses. And I think he still gives tours.  Bloomingdale born, Gary grew up loving movies. Ironic then that when it was a novelty, everyone said his was the voice that used to animate the old "Moviefone" reservation line. And that amused me. You remember the Moviephone? It's the line you dialed that responded in a quasi-human voice: "Hello, and welcome to Moviefone! Using your touchtone keypad, please enter the first three letters of the movie title now."

If you don't know the voice I am talking about, here's a fun clip. It's not, spoiler alert, Gary Dennis. But he sure coulda been a contender.

TMP lasted in situ for 22 years, and it is now gone for 12. Together, that's more than the full lifespan of the Betamax.

Yes, 12 years ago, our mecca of movies closed, and it was noteworthy enough for the New York Times to weigh in. If you never had the pleasure of pushing through the door into the high-ceilinged space bustling with first dates, lonely hearts, groups of buddies and old couples riffling through bins of movie titles, you haven't lived.

Sorry, but it was a thing.

People came from many neighborhoods away to partake. To feast in the selection.  And to go home with armfuls of movies. To come back three days later and do it all again.

It wasn't just the selection. It was the connoisseurship. The guys and a couple of gals behind the counter each had a specific taste. You could ask anyone anything and with just a few hints at what you liked, out poured 5 or 10 suggestions of other films to watch. An algorithm in flesh and blood. It's called a brain and memory, actually. And it worked.

Yet it wasn't just the connoisseurship, it was also the place.  Patina would be a nice way of describing the layers of this loft-like store. Grime would be a bridge too far. Let's call it wabi-sabi.

If the Movie Place were a rock star, it would have been Keith Richards.

Yes, technology has transformed our world since then.  And yes many don't even feel the need for a screen bigger than an iPad to enjoy a film, old or new. And yes, I'll even cede that streaming a movie is more convenient.  But algorithms will never replace synaptic encyclopedias like the brain that is Gary Dennis's or that of the employees, some of whom, thankfully, still live in the neighborhood with their dogs or their now-grown kids. And for what the human touch is still worth, you can't get that kind of prickle online. Or snark. Or voice. Or, truth be told, that warmth.

Starbucks will never replace the town-square feeling that was the Movie Place on a Friday night.  And Tindr will never be as electric with possibility as browsing the Nouvelle Vague section over a handsome guy's shoulder.

Seek no more the ghost of the Movie Place, let loose to wander since 2006. For it is here. And this one from the vault of Block Association newsletters is a David Reich original. Scroll all the way down to read it.

Enjoy!

The "One from the Vault" feature plumbs the archives of back issues of block association newsletters for new neighbors and lovers of our community and its history.  To read others pieces from the vault, click on the category at right.


By Caitlin Hawke

In the February 2001 edition of the BA newsletter, Jock Davenport covered the opening of Silver Moon Bakery in November 2000.  Deep in the heart of Y2K.  In the very same month of the infamous "election."  A year before 9/11.  It's a veritable lifetime ago.  And yet 18 years have sailed by. 

Yes, other places mentioned in the piece like Mama Mexico and Turkuaz are gone, but it's nice to have moonlight glowing still.

If Jock's piece wets your whistle, there's more to read, such as the interview with Judith Norell here and an ode to a favorite hyper-local eat here.

On your 18th, I say, Judith, and to all your Silver Moon family: To life, to life, l'chaim!

Your lagniappe today is Lin-Manuel Miranda's rendition of the "Fiddler on the Roof" tune as a surprise to his bride at their wedding reception. You'll enjoy it for the showmanship even if the singing is a little dicey at times! Scroll down to view or if you are receiving this in an email subscription, click on the picture of Lin with his father-in-law below!

By Caitlin Hawke

​On a day when a random act of kindness might make all the difference, I give you this pop-up piece of human goodness. If you don't know about Flower Flash by this incredibly generous artist who, it must also be said, has a flair for great PR, it might brighten both your actual and virtual lives to learn more. 

​Flower-manipulator extraordinaire Lewis Miller made his way to the neighborhood shortly after resident gardener, Joseph Arbo, placed a wreath in the flower bed in memory of the hate crime in Pittsburgh. Two people on parallel trajectories of decency whose paths fused.
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Hang in there, siblings of this valley of flowers known as Bloomingdale. Hang in there.

Community is what makes us strong when we are challenged. 'Memory' and Straus Park stand as witnesses to this truth. 

h/t to Terence Hanrahan for the picture below and the notice of these happenings at our local trivium.

By Caitlin Hawke

Thanks to the considerable efforts of a load of brave people of the female persuasion like Elizabeth Cady Stanton, her daughter and Bloomingdaler Harriot Stanton Blatch, Susan B. Anthony, and Gertrude Foster Brown, it was 101 years ago tomorrow that New York State accorded women the right to vote, helping to pave the way three years later for the 19th Amendment. And by New York State, I really mean New York City, because if you look at the county by county breakdown (scroll all the way down), our urban forebears padded the 80,000 vote margin of victory.

The day that women's suffrage was on the ballot, 12,000 women stood on corners throughout the city encouraging people of the male persuasion, aka the then voters, to grant women the vote.

They were angry women. Docile women. Black women. Chinese women. Uppity and arrogant women. Handsome and plain women. "Women who knew their place." Working women. Moms and daughters. Religious women. Temperate women. Righteous women. Organized women. Women who loved men. Women who loved women. Women who persisted.

And lo! That day nearly half a million men voted with -- and really for -- them all.

The NYC Women Suffrage Party was looking for twice that turnout in support. They advertised in Columbia's Spectator the day before shooting for a million-man team. But I can't fault them for dreaming big.

In and among all of this rich history of suffering for suffrage, there's a gem: the overlooked story of Elizabeth Cady Stanton's daughter, Harriot Stanton Blatch, is one my readers will relish. Harriot, according to Douglas Feiden writing in Our Town New York for last year's centennial, was an inveterate upper west sider who  lived at 250 Riverside Drive, right here at W. 97th Street.

Harriot had the distinction of living through most of the battle for women's suffrage, beginning as a babe in the arms of her mother, the battle's field marshal. Harriot grew to be a force to be reckoned with in Manhattan as the battle waged on to its glorious end on November 6, 1917.

Says Feiden: "Among [Blatch's] triumphs: In 1907, she founded the Equality League of Self-Supporting Women, which trained working-class women to campaign for suffrage and was “open to any woman who earns her own living, from a cook to a mining engineer. Then in 1910, she organized the city’s first blockbuster suffrage parade, a march down Fifth Avenue climaxing in a giant rally in Union Square. Blatch and thousands of like-minded activists transformed virtually every nook and cranny of Manhattan — its streets, salons, townhouses, tenements, clubhouses, concert halls, vaudeville houses, boarding houses, hotels, parks, pools, auditoriums, alleyways and office buildings — into a living, breathing operational base for the suffrage movement."

New York was far from the first state to let women into the voting club. But that's a digression. What's important is that the ultimate change came through the grassroots of the states. And that it took a long, long time. Ohio voted women's suffrage down on that same day. But New York's upvote cranked the motor hard.

Vagaries of our 'states rights' vs. 'federal rights' dynamic are evident throughout our legal system, from managing voting, to our banking system, to the electoral college to name only a few. These will likely persist, thanks to our country's reverence for its founding documents. And anyone who rides the subway knows the vagaries of state-controlled city budgets despite larger urban tax bases and headcounts.

What the story of 1917 tells us is that our populousness in the Big Apple matters. It matters to the state. And it matters to the federation. Our votes do count. History bears that out.

Today, I am grateful to those excellent women, like the ones above, who got out there 100+ years ago in each neighborhood of NYC. The women who patiently organized for decades. The people who made up the Women's Suffrage Party. And to the half million male voters of New York State on November 6, 1917 who just plain did the right thing.

Tomorrow, five score and a year later, the country will be looking to New Yorkers again.

Find  your poll. Tip your (big, black, feathered) hat to the Stantons, mère et fille.  Grab your umbrella. And hit the street, thinking about what corners all across the city looked like 101 years ago: 10, 15, 30 women deep. Recall for a moment those men who voted to enfranchise at long last their wives, sisters, mothers, grandmothers, aunts and lovers in the great state of New York.

And make your way to cast your vote as if someone else's suffrage depends on you.
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By Caitlin Hawke

Kids weren't the only tribe out in force on Wednesday evening in Bloomingdale. Photogs Ozzie Alfonso, Celia Knight (at right in candy corn scarf, I swear!), Maria Vitagliano and David Ochoa were lying in wait to capture the wee sugar-fueled neighbors.

While one or two King Georges were spotted, there were no Hillary Rodham Clintons in the ratpack, but someone needs to say "It takes a village"!  'Cause it does.

Just look at that table of goodies below. Yowza.

This was of course thanks to your Block Association vols who made it all come true.

Hat tip to child-at-heart and toothfairy accomplice Jane Hopkins (depicted above in the boa and orange witch hat), who has been the field marshal for nigh on forever -- all right, not quite that long, but you get the picture. To her team of big kids who dole out the dough. To the good folks at St. Luke's who always pitch in. To the donors who made contributions of candy, time, and dollars. And to the families who came, saw and conquered the treats and the streets.

If you are sitting on the sidelines, thankful that we have a community-building association in our midst, consider pitching in and helping the Block Association. We're looking for why-oh-ewe!  To volunteer, email us at info@w102-103blockassn.org. To become a member, click here.

And now to our gallery: "Nightmare on 102nd Street!"  If you know someone in these pictures, send them this link and tell them to subscribe to the blog: https://www.w102-103blockassn.org/blog/nightmare-on-102nd-street.

By Caitlin Hawke

October 31 -- this Wednesday -- is fast approaching. If you are not planning on coming out after sundown to lurk with the best of us on W. 102nd Street and West End Avenue, you are gonna be missing the best night of the year in Boo-mingdale.

Details in the poster below.

Here's a shoutout to the Schuyler sisters who, via their dad, have a special connection to our neighborhood and make for a spooky jack-o-lantern. (Hat tip to young Honora Overby who posted her creation on Twitter).  Good enough to send squash sculptor Saxton Freymann out of his gourd with pride.

Stay tuned to this channel for the post-parade photo gallery like this one from a past year. If you plan to have your camera that night, send your best pix to blog@w102-103blockassn.org. I'll post shots of costumed munchins big and small.

By Caitlin Hawke

Here at the Block Association, we love a good green activity.

Under the "reuse" part of "reduce, reuse, recycle," this free Housewares Share N "Shop" is an opportunity to recycle any gently used housewares or to take anything you want home for free.

It all happens this Sunday, October 28, at 251 West 100th Street between West End Avenue and Broadway. All pertinent information is in the flyer below. But know that you don't have to bring something to take something. In addition to setting housewares free and back into the universe, it's a great chance to recycle used eyeglasses, batteries, CFC bulbs and more. Just don't bring any books or clothing because the organizers draw the line there.

Hat tip to Ansche Chesed's Greening Committee, the sponsor of this event, for giving me another reason to winnow.  I'm coming. Crockpot, yogurt maker, fondue set -- all firmly in hand.

Please pass it on! The event only works if lots of people give and take so spread the news widely!