Thursday, April 29, 2010

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Admiral's Row: set to vanish

The Civil War era Admiral's Row officers quarters, which have been allowed to decay and fall into ruin, will soon be demolished. A supermarket and parking lot will take their place. This depressed area needs a supermarket, but the City's inability to see the history and beauty in Admiral's Row results in yet another sorry loss. Thanks Bloomie. Take a long last look...

Monday, April 26, 2010

Tribeca corner

Tribeca, home to Robert DeNiro, well heeled bankers and lawyers, and nary an artist, is full of old architecture and grand buildings, if you know where to look. Located between Soho and the Financial District, Tribeca is tiny, and a prime residential location with its former industrial spaces and cobblestone streets. This corner has always made me smile...and wonder....

Sunday, April 25, 2010

magic shoe repair

Carmine Street
The charming Russian gentleman who runs this shop charges such reasonable prices, I hate to say he could really clean your clock!

Friday, April 23, 2010

smoking femme fatale


One of the oldest theaters in the West Village. I love the lady in the lower left of the frame smoking a cigarette. She seems lost in her own world, like some noir femme fatale, her mood perfectly reflecting the old neon signage.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

70s/80s wall art/remains of the day

After a fruit stand on Christopher and Bleecker was demolished, it revealed scraps of 70s and 80s political ads, commercial ads, and local postings...my, what an angry bunch!
speaker Marion Barry?
our women...all women...ned with...

old town bar

the original opening location for Late Nite with David Letterman..

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Friday, April 16, 2010

A1 Records, east village

Nourishing vinyl goodness

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Monday, April 12, 2010

the oldest brew

Some complain that McSorley's, New York's oldest bar, is overrun with fratboys and business types. Who cares? There's still sawdust on the floor, cheese sandwiches, and watered down beer. I love it.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

simon's hardware, greenpoint

In business since the 50s, Simon mostly sits outside his shop these days, trying to sell the place to anyone interested. A charming fellow who drives an easy bargain.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

old guy bar / Greenpoint

New York City proper (Manhattan) used to be fill of old joints, old bars for old/real men. Now you have to travel to Greenpoint, or further, to find out where the working man chills out. Just a block away from this brick and round windowed haven/heaven, hipsters (definition here) drink at "the lokal" or the oyster bar, smoking like mad, drinking pints, numbed by multiple flat screens, volume and their own fashion sense. While at this unassuming Polish bar, the charming female bartender (in her family since the 60s) charged me 25 cents for a club soda, and smiled when I left a dollar tip. They weren't doing much business. The place was quiet. Old guys drinking beer from short glasses -- no hipsters in sight.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Diner Heaven

the beautiful long island diner in brooklyn heights, still closed

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Monday, April 5, 2010

Sunday, April 4, 2010

northern dispensary

Building where Poe was a patient remains a mystery

By Alex Schmidt
As Manhattan’s grid begins to give way to a jumble of old Village streets west of Sixth Ave., Waverly Pl. turns from east-west to northwest. For a tiny stretch until it hits southeast-running Grove St., however, Waverly Pl. also continues on its east-west path, forming a small three-sided space bounded by the fork of Waverly Pl. on two sides and Grove and Christopher Sts. on the other. A three-sided building, the Northern Dispensary, occupies that triangle. It stands, filled with dust and rusting dental equipment, on the border between the colossal vertical development of the city that necessitated 90-degree angles, and the organic streets of Greenwich Village’s stout provincial past.