The Bowery Boys | New York City History

PODCAST: The Evolution of Central Park

2008-07-25T10:18:00.010-04:00

When last we left the Park, it was the embodiment of Olmstead and Vaux's naturalistic Greensward Plan. Then the skyscrapers came. Also, how did all those playgrounds, a swanky nightclub, a theater troupe and all those hippies get here?

Listen here or download it for free on iTunes

NOTE: Please forgive my butcher pronounciation of the word Jagiello in today's podcast!

The Park in a wintry day in 1906:

Children celebrate May Day in the park, circa 1912:

The southwestern entrance of Central Park, punctuated by Columbus Circle:

By the early 30s, the original dream of Central Park as 'oasis' was effectively destroyed by skyscrapers

Balto to 1934, looking pretty much the same as he does today:

The skyline changes the horizon of Central Park. Here, in 1935:

1967:

And today:

Ice skating, circa 1936

The Casino, which went from restaurant to nightclub during the 1920s. Demolished by Robert Moses, it became Rumsay Playfield and home of Summerstage

Ah, life was much simpler back in 1942 (well, in Central Park, anyway). The luxury San Remo apartments peeks from the background

By the 1950s, most of the Park's modern features and lawns were built. It's getting more difficult, of course, to find a corner of the park all your own.

Joseph Papp brought Shakespeare to the park in the 1950s, but didn't make a home of Delacorte Theatre until 1962

Park 'happenings' in the 1960s attracted thousands of people to partake in activities unheard of in the Olmstead days.

Central Park was a popular model for photographer Lee Friedlander, turning its natural beauty into striking patterns of abstraction

Naumburg's Bandshell: a gift that won't go away

2008-07-24T08:43:00.008-04:00

Don't accept a gift unless you're pretty sure you're going to use it.

That's the lesson the city learned after the fiasco involving the jazz-age Naumburg bandshell, which sits proud and empty overlooking the Central Park mall thanks to some tenacious descendants of the man who donated it, Elkan Naumburg.

Proper sorts of concerts were always envisioned for this area of the park. Given to the notion that a beautiful park promoted moral and intellectual sanctity, Vaux and Olmstead believed "the effect of good music in the park is to aid the mind in freeing itself from the irritating effect of urban conditions."

The area where the bandshell stands today was coined the Concert Ground in their early plans, and a cast-iron shell designed by Jacob Wrey Mould (Vaux's collaborator on both the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Natural History Museum) was erected west of today's bandshell and surrounded with fountains, benches and metal bird cages (!), all the better to enjoy the proper music of the day.

As the park attracted more people outside the upper classes, such elegant surroundings seemed out of place. Enter music lover, banker and philanthropist Elkan Naumburg, who stepped in with a healthy donation of $100,000 to build a dynamic new bandshell.

Naumburg's name had been associated with classical music since 1905 with the debut of Naumburg Orchestral Concerts throughout the city. But by the time the new bandshell was built in 1923 (and designed by his nephew) this little slice of Romanesque architecture made way to host other kinds of music, namely jazz and big band.

Imagine strolling down Literary Walk or along the lake with the air filled with the jaunty chords of Duke Ellington and Irving Berlin. Space in front of the bandshell was reserved for dancing, partners sweeping across the asphalt under the full moon. (The picture above is from 1942.) Keeping it in the family, Elkan's son Walter hosted concerts by the Naumburg Orchestra.

The bandshell also hosted speeches and protests throughout the years, hosting everybody from Martin Luther King Jr. to Fidel Castro. In the 60s and 70s, the bandshell also played host to rock artists like the Grateful Dead and the Jefferson Airplane (below).

But the music eventually went elsewhere (more often, just up the hill to Rumsey Playfield) and by the 1980s the bandshell took on a new use -- a haven for the homeless. In the comprehensive 1985 survey by the Central Park Conservancy, it was recommended that the bandshell, never part of the original plan, be demolished or at least moved. Everyone generally agreed that it had become an outdated eyesore.

Everyone, that is, but the Naumberg family. They took the city to court and, in a landmark 1993 decision by the court, successfully blocked the demolition. The court determined that "its administrative code prohibited destruction of a gift" and that all gifts "shall be forever properly protected." Essentially, because the city agreed to accept the bandshell as a gift, it couldn't then turn around and destroy it.

Since then, the city has "make the best of a bad situation" (in then-parks commissioner Betsy Gotbaum's words) and kept the bandshell in business with regular summer concerts and dance performances. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

Jones Woods: ghosts, graves and an 'amusement park'

2008-07-22T09:50:00.011-04:00

Over 15,000 Irish Americans gathered in Jones Wood in 1856, to greet countryman James Stephen

Once upon a time, back when Fifth Avenue was a dirt path and Bloomingdale was literally a blooming dale, there stood a haunted and most mysterious forest located on bluffs overlooking the East River, far east of the area today known as Lenox Hill in the Upper East Side. (Basically between 66th-88th streets to 75th-77th street.)

Back in the 1700s this was one of the most densely forested areas of the island, miles from the city of New York. Prominent families moved here, settling in secluded homes overlooking the crashing waters of Hells Gate below. And not surprising, ghost stories and legends took root here as well.

As an early account describes it: "It was the last fastness of the forest primeval that once covered the rocky shores of the East River, and its wildness was almost savage. In the infant days of the colony it was the scene of tradition and fable, having been said to be a favorite re-sort of the pirates who dared the terrors of Hell Gate, and came here to land their treasures and hold their revels."

At the heart of this forest was a small, pioneering 90-acre farm called the Louvre, its owner unknown today, or why it shared its name with a famous French museum. Later, two famous New York families owned manors in this once out-of-town thicket. The Schermerhorns kept the family crypt here until it was nothing but broken tombstones, protruding underfoot when later the area would become better known for picnics and family outings.

The second family was the Provoost clan, who bought the Louvre in 1742 and transformed it into an elegant home. Although prominent, the Provoosts were supporters of the American cause at the time of the Revolutionary War. Samuel Provoost (that dapper man to the right) later became president of King's College, the pre-Revolutionary precursor to Columbia University. His cousin David, who fought with Washington's army, took a more notorious path to fame, become a legendary smuggler nicknamed Ready-Money Provoost.

When Ready-Money died, he too was entombed in the family crypt here. Later, the site of Provoost's grave attracted ghost seekers, who would "gather there and tell each other wonderful stories of the unearthly doings of the old man's ghost. Not one of them could have been persuaded by all the ready money in the city to keep a night's vigil under the trees that overhung the lonely, desolate grave."

Later still the home was sold to a John Jones, who lent the forest his name. By the 19th century, the woods had become a popular destination for nearby city dwellers. The Provoost's family chapel was soon turned into a clubhouse and adjoining manor grounds into places of recreation. Stories of its mysterious past and recent days as a retreat for prominent families drew recreationers of all sorts, until it became an what some have called the 'first major U.S. amusement park', with beer gardens, sporting events and great spaces for large gatherings.

It was still an untamed, wooded area, but now people arrived for "billiards, bowling, and donkey rides," for general outdoor carousing and drinking.

Jones Wood was pegged to become the very first site for 'a great park', the land to be purchased by the state on 1851, to be transformed into an area worthy of the lavish public spaces of Europe. Proponents for an official park here claims the lush riverfront and rich "dense growth of forst trees" made it ideal for immediate conversion to a formal park.

But there was strong opposition by those who maintained that a 'central' park on the island would be preferred, both for its aesthetic symmetry and attractiveness to landowners surrounding it. And at only 150 acres, Jones was also deemed too small. Despite this, in June 1953, the state approved BOTH Jones' Wood and the area that was to become Central Park.

Landowners around the Jones Wood area and merchants benefiting from sporting events and beer gardens had their day a year later, when city plans for Jones Wood were entirely abandoned.

It still remained popular for much of the late 19th century, particularly used by Irish and Germans from nearby Yorkville, although it was chipped away by new properties tenements. In 1894, a devastating fire swept through destroying properties over eleven acres. By this time, more sophisticated amusement parks began appearing out in a distant area of Brooklyn named Coney Island. Meanwhile, developers looked hungrily at the remaining area of Jones' Wood. By the light of 20th century, all traces of this jovial and mysterious forest had vanished.

A ride around New York's remaining merry-go-rounds

2008-07-21T10:27:00.013-04:00

Carousels aren't really for kids anymore. Sure, you won't see many adults truly captivated by the process of mounting a wooden animal and twirling in a circle. But well-preserved models of the famous amusements are nostalgia goldmines; tinkling calliope music and a few flashing light bulbs can sometimes capture a by-gone era more than a multi-million dollar restoration can.

New York City used to have dozens of the swirling entertainments. Today, you can only find them in a few places:

Central Park Carousel (above)
This is perhaps the world's most famous carousel, but it's not the original amusement which debuted in 1871. That carousel was controlled by a blind mule that walked around in circle in a dark, underground pit, as upper-class children paid the rather steep ten cent admission for a chance to ride it. It was replaced by an electric carousel in 1924 and was eventually destroyed in fire.

The carousel that whirrs about here today is actually much older, built in 1908 and entertained children during Coney Island's heyday. Still one of the world's largest carousels, it moved to this location in 1950.

La Carrousel
Given to the park's symmetrical French landscape design, they call the one in Bryant Park Le Carrousel (ooo la la). Despite seeming very rustic, this miniature wedding-cake was only installed in 2001. I can only imagine what a carousel would have seemed like had it been here during Bryant Park's days as a hangout for drug addicts.

Battery Park SeaGlass
This glittery, futuristic looking thing recalls Battery Park's past as the home of the New York Aquarium, with horses replaced by creatures of the sea. Oh wait. This carousel's not built yet.

Flushing Meadows-Corona Park 'Carousel In The Park'
Queens' only merry-go-round came here from Coney Island, by way of the New York World's Fair in 1964. Previously, it spent the early part of the century as the official carousel of Stubbman's Beer Garden until the 1950s, where it moved up to the boardwalk next to the parachute jump and became the Steeplechase Carousel. It was transported to the World's Fair Lake Amusement area (pictured above) and was left there, donated to the city, long after the Fair left town.

B & B Carousell
Coney Island was the home of dozens of spectacular carousels and could safely be considered the world's largest assemblage of them. Today there's only one left -- the wonderfully misspelled B & B Carousell, which arrived in 1923. But don't go looking for it. After being purchased by the city, the Carousell is currently being refurbished in Ohio for the fancy new Steeplechase Plaza, the city's costly revamp of the Coney Island amusement sector. However its former home still sits, sad and vacant:

Prospect Park Carousel
Sitting close to the zoo and Leffert's Homestead, this was also acquired from a Coney Island site in 1952, although the park has had merry-go-arounds since its inception. It stopped running altogether in the 1980s due to mechanical failures but was renovated in 1990. The park has a 'horse adoption and grooming' program to keep the carousel in working order.

The Carousel for All Children
This awkwardly named merry-go-round is located at Willowbrook Park in Staten Island's Greenbelt. Nothing too retro about this ride; a modern model built in Ohio, it was installed here at Willowbrook in 1999. However, some of the horses are reproductions of those of Staten Island's very first carousel -- a version that entertained on Midland Beach Boardwalk from the mid 1910s that was dismantled in 1957.

The Bronx Zoo Bug Carousel
The New York area's newest carousel, debuting in 2005, the Bronx Zoo model is certainly the only one of its kind to be comprised entirely of insects.

Jane's Carousel
The strangest carousel in New York is one that unfortunately does not take riders. Jane Walentas, wife of Brooklyn real estate developer David Walentas, keeps a fully restored 1922 carousel (seen below) tucked away in a building on Water Street. Walentas, who purchased the crumbling amusement in 1984 and personally restored it, has been hoping the city would adopt her hobby horse for the expanding Brooklyn Bridge Park. Until then, pop by 56 Water Street to grab a view, if not a ride.

Know of any I might have missed?

PODCAST: The Creation of Central Park

2008-07-18T09:33:00.010-04:00

Above: Central Park's first recreation was ice skating, almost as soon as the lake was completed in 1858. The Dakota Apartments look like a ski resort.

Come with us to the beginnings of New York's most popular and most ambitious park -- from the inkling of an idea to the arduous construction. Learn who got uprooted and find out who the park was REALLY intended for. On the 150th year anniversary of the design of Central Park!

Listen to it here or download it from iTunes and podcasting services:

Frederick Law Olmstead, the brilliant and sometimes testy creator of the Greensward Plan, the basis for Central Park. As America's go-to guy for park creation, Olmstead helped develop thousands of acres of public space in America, including the grounds of the U.S. Capitol, dozens of college campuses, and parks in Atlanta, Boston, Louisville and Detroit.

His British partner Calvert Vaux was a genius landscape architect in his own right. He and Olmstead would go on to also create Brooklyn's Prospect Park. He's particularly noted for personally designing Central Park's more beautiful bridges, as well as the fanciful Belvedere Castle.

The original design of Central Park, circa 1857, informed by the upper and lower reservoirs and a noticable lack of structures. (Click on map for greater detail.)

From an original sketch of the Greensward plan, by Vaux

A brilliantly rendered lithograph of the Greensward plan (From an exhibit last month Celebrating Greensward.)

A sketching of some alledged 'squatters' in the lands that would eventually become the park. The reality of their situation was oftentimes far more complex.

A map of Seneca Village (with Eighth Avenue at top), the small town of African-American property owners that was swept away with the building of the park

A rare photo of some rather unsightly construction in the park, circa July 1863

An illustration from 1864 of the Bethesda Terrace (click on the picture for greater detail)

The original plan for Central Park included no monuments, and Olmstead wanted it that way. Still, by 1864, they were already hoisting up a tribute to William Shakespeare. In the picture below, the cornerstone is being laid on the 300th anniversary of Shakesspeare's birthday, April 23

By 1869, the park had been taken over by elite New Yorkers, who could afford to ride through on their carriages. (Click for details of this rich picture.) In the background is the old Arsenal, which tranformed into the Central Park Zoo in later years.

Check out our older podcast on the Central Park Zoo and accompanying photographs.

Who is the Queen of Central Park?

2008-07-16T21:58:00.011-04:00

Above: the grotesque face of Mother Goose in Central Park. What did she ever do to deserve her own statue?

While mulling over the list of famous people great and small depicted in Central Park sculpture -- Ludwig van Beethoven! Duke Ellington! Alexander Hamilton! -- I was reminded of one curious and well-known fact: Not one statue depicts a non-fictional female.

Famous living dogs 1 (Balto), famous living women 0.

The most famous representatives of the XX chromosome are Mother Goose, Alice In Wonderland, and Juliet (of Romeo And). Dancing maidens, random ornamental goddesses and angels (if one can even consider them females, and not androgynes) are strewn throughout the park, but they're essentially decor.

It's not that they're hesitant to honor women here. Jackie Kennedy Onassis had the reservoir named after her in 1984. The relatively obscure child welfare advocate Sophie Irene Loeb has a drinking fountain in her honor. Diana Ross even has a playground!

The age of honoring great souls in marble and bronze is well past, but hardly over. (Lebow, from the post below, was installed in 1994 and Ellington's honor was erected in 1997) If they ever decided to honor a famous New York City woman here, who would it be?

Jane Jacobs definitely needs one (although maybe not in Central Park). Eleanor Roosevelt, the first American woman displayed in a public park, already stands contemplating Riverside Park. Onassis could use a status as well, but let's not get carried away. Nellie Bly, C.J. Walker, Billie Holiday, Abby Aldrich Rockefeller -- all good choices, but not specific to this area.

If you're looking for one woman crucial to today's Central Park, I would like to officially nominate Elizabeth Barlow Rogers, writer, landscape designer and the first president of the Central Park Conservancy.

In the first year of the Conservancy, 1980, Central Park was a shambles, hit by the neglect of the 70s financial crisis and years of massive events in the park which decimated lawns and public places. By the time the infamous attack on the Central Park Jogger took place in 1989, the park had become almost a national landmark to crime.

The Conservancy was (and still is) the publicly run lifeboat for the park. Working with mayor Ed Koch and parks commissioner Gordon Davis, Rogers (then Barlow) and the Conservancy began the herculean task of taking back the park, by the mid-80s assuming most of the responsibility. The Conservancy's official site has a landmark-by-landmark rundown of restorations and underscores what a disaster area it was in the 80s. Millions of dollars of public funds were paired with city support to bring the park back to the original Olmstead and Vaux vision.

Rogers stepped down in 1996, having seen the park back to nearly full health, and founded the Cityscape Institute, a private fund-raising organization branching out to help other New York public spaces, including Battery Park and Malcolm X Plaza.

I would go as far as say that today Betsy Rogers is the Queen of Central Park, and of the domain of New York City parks in general. Rogers actually has a small plaque to her honor -- in Diana Ross Playground -- but why stop there?

Central Park's obscure sculpture celebrities

2008-07-16T08:41:00.010-04:00

Hallack reclines under the leafy Central Park mall

Frederick Law Olmsted would have preferred Central Park have no sculptures, yet almost from the moment the park opened, monuments to the great men of the day began sprouting up. Yet for every William Shakespeare and Christopher Columbus, there are an equal number of completely forgotten individuals, languishing in relative obscurity along park pathways. Well, let me come to the rescue of five of my favorites!

Famous figure: Fitz-Greene Halleck (pictured above)
Location: The Mall's 'literary walk'
Who is he?: Satirical poet of the mid-19th century and private secretary to John Jacob Astor
Was he a big deal?: Let's put it this way. Halleck's statue is the first ever in the United States erected to a poet. Its unveiling in May 1877 was attended by President Rutherford B. Hayes and his cabinet. He's also considered an early American gay icon.
Statue status: Pales in comparison to the other men along the walk of literary greats, which includes better knowns like Walter Scott, Robert Burns and Shakespeare.

Famous figure: Albert Bertel Thorvaldsen
Location: East 97th Entrance
Who is he?: A Danish sculptor of the neo-Classicist era
Was he a big deal?: Not so much in the United States, although his depiction of Jesus, called Thorvaldsen's Christus, is popular with Mormons and sits in Temple Square in Salt Lake City. However Danish Americans were so enamored of him they successfully petitioned this installation in the park in 1892.
Statue status: It's the only self-portraiture in the entire park, a copy of a sculpture Thorvaldsen made of himself in 1839. He's also been moved a few times.

Famous figure: Fred Lebow (above)
Location: East side, near the Reservoir
Who is he?: Romanian who revolutionized the New York City Marathon
Was he a big deal?: In the world of long distance running, he's an icon. He founded the very first NYC marathon in 1970 and personally helped it grow to the international event it is today. He was still running in it at age 60 when he was diagnosed with brain cancer.
Statue status: One of Central Park's newest statues (1994) and beloved by running fanatics, Lebow is moved every year during the New York Marathon so runners can get a better look at him (and vice versa)

Famous figure: John Purroy Mitchel
Location: 90th Street entrance on the east side
Who is he? : The Boy Mayor of New York City, from 1914-17
Was he a big deal?: In the scheme of New York City history, not really. But his untimely death just a year after leaving office brought out this appreciation of the young mayor
Statue status: Gilded and a little creepy, Mitchel's bust greets visitors at the Engineers Gate. On a great summer's day, he's the brightest thing for ten blocks.

Famous figure: King Wladyslaw Jagiello (below)
Location: looking out over Turtle Pond, near the Met Museum
Who is he?: The glorious medieval warrior-king of Lithuania and Poland
Was he a big deal?: Clearly. But so was his statue. Created for the 1939 New York World's Fair by the Polish delegation, World War II gave the mighty statue a new relavance and was installed in 1945
Statue status: The dramatic King Jagiello Monument is among the park's most striking and memorable, probably the most famous of the most obscure. As a memorial, it does its job almost better than any other in Central Park

Pic courtesy of Central Park 2000

Eero Saarinen and his three gifts to New York

2008-07-15T10:49:00.009-04:00

Above: an early photo of Saarinen's TWA terminal

I played hookey from New York City this weekend and journeyed down to Washington DC, where among other things, I checked out the Eero Saarinen exhibit at the National Building Museum. Saarinen, a versatile furniture designer and prolific architect, is best known as designer of the St. Louis Gateway Arch and has a resume of structures all over the globe. Saarinen was known as an architectural chameleon of sorts, shifting styles to fit the project. Although he died relatively young, at age 51 of a brain tumor, he gave New York City three very memorable, completely different buildings.

Vivian Beaumont Theatre (150 West 65th Street, at Lincoln Center) -- Completed four years after Saarinen's death, the Vivian Beaumont was designed as part of the Lincoln Center complex, thus its concrete and glass containment works in sync with the other buildings in the plaza. Friendly but formal, this massive theatre remains as the only Broadway house outside the traditional Broadway district and has a notable thrust stage that gives performances a virtual in-the-round feel. Its two largest recent productions -- South Pacific and The Coast of Utopia -- gathered piles of Tony Awards. (There's also a smaller off-Broadway stage, the Mitzi E. Newhouse, inside the building.)

CBS Building (51 West 52nd Street, affectionately known as Black Rock) -- Saarinen's critics accused him lacking a defining aesthetic, something you might believe comparing the Lincoln Center playhouse to this lurching, severe structure on Sixth Avenue. Both buildings opened the same year, 1965, executed by Saarinen's firm. The CBS Building (pictured at right) employed a moat of public space, and the building springs out of the crevice like an ominous plant. On an avenue of steel, the rather scary CBS Building was the first to use reinforced concrete, although it's draped in black granite.

TWA Terminal (JFK Airport, Queens) -- If you're gonna write home about a Saarinen building in New York, make it the kooky, sometimes foolish, always imaginative terminal he designed for TWA that was completed in 1962. (Its a tragedy that he never saw any of his New York buildings -- not to mention the Arch itself -- in final form.) The terminal is so exotic and loopy that it jolts arriving passengers.

It has the unity of some organic space being, retro-futuristic down to its benches. Or as Saarinen describes: "All the curves, all the spaces and elements right down to the shape of the signs, display boards, railings and check-in desks were to be of a matching nature." It outlived TWA, which was bought out in 1991. Thankfully landmarked in 1994 -- saving it from any potential urges to demolish its now-dated, spacy halls -- its slated to reopen in the fall as a gateway to a new JetBlue terminal.

Strange and Beautiful

2008-07-14T14:07:00.004-04:00

No regular post today, just a shot I took of the East River a couple weeks ago when it was strangely overcast at around 3pm, and the suns reflection on the water turned it green, giving it an unnatural feel and the Brooklyn Bridge a toyish quality. (Click to make bigger)

PODCAST: Meatpacking District

2008-07-11T05:51:00.009-04:00

High fashion dangles from hangars where slabs of meat once hung from hooks. Could the world of New York real estate provide a less obvious analogy?

How did the land surrounding an old 19th century fortress develop into the city's mainline distributor for produce and meat? And how did that once bustling place transform itself from the dilapidated home of leather bars and transsexual prostitutes to a hot spot of high fashion stores and boutique hotels? Welcome to the Meatpacking District, one of Manhattan's strangest neighborhoods.

Listen to it here or download it for free on iTunes:

Fort Gansevoort, built between 1808 and 1812, was the first significant structure building in the area that would become known as the Meatpacking District

The West Washington Market, circa 1936, although they had been opened since the late 1800s. There were actually ten of these buildings in a row, filled with thousands of pounds of meat, stored with the latest renovations in refrigeration. This particular shed specialized in poultry. The Gansevoort producer market would be directly behind the camerawoman (in this case, Berniece Abbott).

The absolute chaos is nicely depicted in this shot, with the West Washington Markets to the back.

Al Pacino in the film 'Cruisin', a rather dated but provocative thriller set in the Meatpacking District and using a few of its sex clubs and leather bars as backdrops

Jackie 60 was one of New York's most creative club nights, drawing an assortment of people brave enough to venture into the Meatpacking at night. Here, Jackie regular Deborah Harry hams it up with the Dueling Bankheads

Hogs and Heifers

An archetypical building of the neighborhood, this two-story warehouse was created by ripping down floors from taller five-story tenements in 1940

A few buildings still remain in the area that harken back to its days as rowhouses. Miraculously, this one still stands, as charming as ever.

The R&L Restaurant, after years as the beloved restauarant Florent, is back to its old self. Florent closed just last month.

The building to the left stands on the exact spot of Fort Gansevoort and the original location of the Gansevoort Market

Popular bistro Pastis, God love 'em, makes it home in a former stables and was also reduced in floors, from three to two

The neighborhood will be changed forever once the unique, crazy, foolish, beautiful High Line Building dangling over the former elevated train is completed later this year. Below the High Line itself is being transformed into a 'floating park'.

The sexy secret underneath 'Little Flatiron'

2008-07-10T08:35:00.014-04:00

Some of the most interesting buildings in New Yorks are the triangular ones, those that sit at the intersection of diagonal streets that cut through the grid system. The Silas C. Herring Lock and Safe Company Building, more affectionately known as the L'il Flatiron Building or simply the Triangle Building, is probably the 'cutest' example of these, a five-story brick structure that notifies traffic to the change in neighborhood. Hudson spills down to the West Village to its east, while cobblestones grace its western front. But this girl's led a hard life.

L'il Flatiron was built in 1849 as a four-story building for Herring's well-known safe company. After Herring died in 1881, a fifth floor was added to the building two years later and converted into general shop space.

Today, its ground floor is presently occupied by pleasant Italian restaurant Vento, while the basement houses the lounge Level V. The crowds at these places are mainstream, young, professional. Are they aware that they dine and imbibe in what was once one of the most sexually active places in all of New York City? Literally thousands of people have had sex in the basement of the Little Flatiron.

A host of erotic clubs once took residence here, most notably the legendary Vault, perhaps best known as the location of a few of Madonna's 'Sex' book photoshoots. After a few years in this space, the Vault was such a success that it moved a short distance away on Little West 12th Street (and later still to another location on 23rd Street), where it became a sort of 'sex mall'.

The Hellfire Club, the Manhole and Jay's Hangout were also residences of the little Flatiron at some point during the 80s and 90s, catering to the various sexual proclivities of both straight and gay people.

And that was just the inside. Prostitutes openly trolled around outside during the 80s and early 90s, hobbling over the cobblestone, trying to make a living. Says one person who lived in the neighborhood in the early 90s: "The corner in front of that triangle building was tranny hooker & drug dealer central! Now it's all Prada girls chatting away over triple low-carb lattes."

Even its most prestigious filmic moment aches of high drama. Glenn Close's psychotic character in 'Fatal Attraction' lived here, and the building was also used in the Oscar-nominated film 'The Hours'. In fact a pivotal character leaped to his death from a window on its upper floors. As far as I know, no movie character has ever lived in this building and survived. (Sorry to spoil the movies.)

Today about the only hot spicy action one can find in the building is at the Hog Pit barbecue restaurant around the corner. This stomach-destroying barbecue establishment has been a mainstay of the neighborhood and has attracted its share of famous fans, such as Harrison Ford, Willie Nelson and Keanu Reeves . However, it, too, is being run out of the neighborhood by the end of the year. With a Ralph Lauren store slated to move in by 2009, the Little Flatiron will officially (and regrettably) become a respectable place.

However, they may want to reconsider moving in there. Perhaps the most starling and shocking fact of all -- the building starred in a hit music video '2 Become 1' by the Spice Girls. Oh, knowing that, how can I even look at it the same way? Lil Flatiron, hide your shame!

(Second pic above courtesy wallyg at Flickr)

Cabaret license be damned: NYC's politics of dancing

2008-07-08T09:48:00.015-04:00

Above: Marilyn and Truman maintain their composure at the Peppermint Lounge, an early 60s dance hole that frequently scoffed at fire codes

Time Out's cover story last week features places and events where a New Yorker can still go and dance. Very nice try. Dancing in a public place can be akin to performing an illegal act if the establishment does not hold a cabaret license, a permit that can be so difficult to obtain that, as of 2006, only 200 establishments in all five boroughs have one. You can thank the excesses of Prohibition and 1990s club kids, Rudy Guiliani, and maybe even the advent of the iPod as the causes.

For most of New York's history, recreational dancing split society. The taverns of the Dutch, the freed black population at home on Cow Bay, the Irish basements of Five Points, the naughty brothels of the Bowery -- commoners mixed their dancing with liquor and sex, launched marathon parties in the dankest, seediest parts of their neighborhoods. Dancing was an escape.

Below: An unrestrained shimmy in Harlem in the days before the cabaret license

For New York's upper-class, it was anything but. The British took to ballrooms like the New York Arms in 1750, New York's upper-crust to their formal 'dance assemblies' in post-Revolutionary times, and later the elaborate pavilions of Vauxhall Gardens and sumptuous hotel ballrooms. But dancing was a proper, rigid affair, more prone to causing stress than relieving it. Who would dare be comfortable at one of Mrs. Astor's storied functions, a collection of New York's 400 and no place to get creative with your fancy footwork? When Alva Vanderbilt threw her legendary $3 million masquerade ball in 1883, musical innovation was not on her mind.

What brought the classes together in the 20th century -- musically speaking -- was the emergence of jazz and Big Band -- Small's Paradise uptown, the Roseland Ballroom in Times Square, and every nook and cranny in between. What eventually brought them together physically was Prohibition, driving cultural excess into the underground, loosening morals and dance steps, both breaking couples up to enjoy the pleasure of dancing alone, and pulling them together in more sexually charged moves.

Below: swinging it at the Savoy

It was at the height of Prohibition that New York debuted its idea of a cabaret license. In 1926, as a way to reel in sanction out-of-control establishments (which were often discreetly selling liquor), the state required licenses for any place that wished to host "three or more musicians" especially "any ... percussion or brass", or "three or more people moving in synchronized fashion."

The real motive behind the laws were probably a lot more sinister; the new nightclubs were bringing classes together, and that meant bringing races together. Whites mingled with blacks up in the swanky Harlem clubs and down in the Village, at Cafe Society and smoky coffeehouses.

Below: Packed in at the Paradise Garage

By the 1980s, musicians were exempted from the cabaret license -- could you imagine such a restriction on percussion today? -- but the dancing ban stayed on the books. The restriction did little to squelch the spread of disco, funk and hip hop, and dance music flourished in the 70s and 80s, partially because they were genres that derived as much from the street as from set establishments.

Controversies over the cabaret license reared again during the administration of Rudy Guiliani, whose quest to scrub clean the city ran headlong into the decadence nightclub culture of the 1990s. By this time, drugs ran rampant through the halls of Peter Gatien and the elaborate super-clubs of the west side. Cabaret law enforcement had also laxed, and even gigantic clubs catering to thousands of people failed to get them. In 1996, Guiliani created the Nightclub Enforcement Task Force, and the bubble burst. Dozens of clubs, big and small, were busted, ostensibly to curtail the rampant drug culture.

Or as the Gotham Gazette says, "Some blamed the owners themselves, for refusing to address the problems emanating from their clubs, and failing to cooperate with the authorities. Others said the police overreacted."

The current process of obtaining a cabaret license can be compared to, say, the many obstacles faced by Odysseus. However, it's not technically impossible.

The bigger buzzkill to the New York dance scene is general lethargy combined with raising rents. The gigantic dance spaces of old are simply too big to keep empty. Many old club have become condos or office buildings. One, the Palladium, became a New York University dorm. Paradise Garage is a Verizon warehouse. Others stay in the world of entertainment, but change the tune -- Studio 54 is a theatre, Exit is a live music venue (under the name Terminal 5)

And is there room for public dancing if the iPod inspired "silent raves" become popular? Ugh!

But perhaps things are changing. One potentially symbolic move was reported yesterday by amNew York's Urbanite blog: the Roxy, one of New York's disco icons, may be reopening after rumors that it shut its doors last year to become condo-land. Can the beat come back to New York?

Below: The club Stereo, surviving through a series of closings and re-openings, was gutted by a fire a couple weeks ago. (Pic courtesy of Queen of New York)

The Roaring Twenties: a boozy old Hollywood bio

2008-07-07T10:02:00.006-04:00

BOWERY BOYS RECOMMEND is an occasional feature where we find an unusual movie or TV show that -- whether by accident or design -- uniquely captures an era of New York City better than any reference or history book. Other entrants in this particular film festival can be found HERE.

New York during the Prohibition was a lot more difficult and less glamorous than the movies have portrayed. But why go there? In The Roaring Twenties, every element of the New York underworld is portrayed in pitch-perfect movie fantasy. What you wouldn't realize is that this Hollywood gem is based on the true story of Manhattan's speakeasy king and queen, Larry Fay and Texas Guinan.

The real Fay was a "taxi racketeer" (runner of several illegal cabs) turned lucrative speakeasy owner during the Jazz Age. His club El Fey, at 105 W. 45th Street (below), with its swastika-adorned doorway, moved poorly made champagne at premium prices, thanks to hiring the personable and sexy Guinan, a former Hollywood Western star turned nightlife doyenne. (I elaborated about her and her 300 Club in an article last year.)

Below: the real El Fey

Fay was a notorious enough name that by 1934, the year after his death by the hands of a disgruntled employee, news of the auction of his bullet-proof Excelsior limousine made Time Magazine. Its no surprise that the 1939 big screen adaptation of his life, then, would attract two of Hollywood's biggest stars -- James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart. (In classic early movie tradition, the story is loosely based and all the names are changed.)

Cagney plays Eddie Bartlett (the stand-in for Fay), out-of-luck after returning from World War I and virtually forced into the gangster business. Thankfully he finds that his foxhole partner George Hally (Bogart) has also entered the illegal booze smuggling business. The two uneasily join forces but soon learn that in the New York underground, your friend one day is your enemy the next.

Notable in the cast is Gladys George as Panama Smith the saucy, barely disguised avatar for Guinan. As this is a moralist film, Panama is punished for being a saavy independent business-owner by slowly deteriorating into a needy, washed-up lounge singer that nobody wants.

The director Raoul Walsh would later bring Cagney his most defining screen moments in White Heat, and Bogart a few of his in High Sierra. Six years prior to 'Twenties', Walsh directed a film called 'The Bowery' about the rough and tumble saloon-clogged street during the 1890s.

Meanwhile, Cagney and Bogart had teamed two years previous in 'Dead End', the movie about a New York slum that brought the world the first appearance of the Dead End Kids, later to rename themselves the Bowery Boys.

The Roaring Twenties is currently out on DVD and is probably played on Turner Classic Movies about once a month.

July 4th: Independence Day (except for New York)

2008-07-03T10:17:00.007-04:00

America declared its independence from Britain in 1776, only for New York City to become a British stronghold for years. New York's true independence day is November 25, 1783, the day the Brits sailed out of New York harbor.

In fact, on July 4, 1776, tensions were at their highest, but a major assault on the city had yet to happen. Washington's forces were in the city, bracing for an attack. He knew a declaration was being drafted in Philadelphia and wasn't sure how his fragile army would react. Many might flee and return to their homes.

It wasn't until two days later, on July 6, when Washington read a copy of the Declaration on the grassy commons that is today's City Hall that his fears of troop abandonment left him. The angered men sped down to Bowling Green and ripped down the statue of King George.

I wouldn't recommend ripping down any statues tomorrow, although I totally respect your intentions. But if you're looking for a primer on the British attack of New York City and the subsequent occupation, give our old podcasts on the British Invasion of 1776 and life in British New York a listen (by downloading them from iTunes) while walking around downtown Manhattan.

Everybody have a safe and fantastic holiday weekend!

Coney Island's famous assault on the stomach returns!

2008-07-02T10:01:00.008-04:00

If human beings doing harm to their bodies by shoveling bread and meat down their throats disturb you, stay away from Coney Island and don't turn on ESPN at noon on July 4th. Because the Nathan's Hot Dog Eat Contest is back for its 93rd year.

Ninety-three years. Most human beings don't live that long (especially if they've been in the contest).

When Nathan Handwerker began his own hot dog stand in Coney Island, he cooked up some very elaborate schemes to get people to buy his products. He hired doctors (or actually, homeless people dressed as doctors) to stand around eat hot dogs, promoting their health. His son Murray once unfortunately placed a dead finback whale in front of the stand to promote business -- which was brisk, until the whale started to decompose.

But no stunt has been as successful as the first -- the annual hot dog eating contest. There are literally been people eating dozens of dogs for sport since Nathan's very first Fourth of July. As the official story goes, a group of newly arrived "European immigrants" were arguing with each about who was more patriotic to their new country. They decided to best each other in a contest eating that most American of new foods, the hot dogs. In the end, Ireland won; a man named James Mullen finished the competition shoveling down thirteen dogs in twelve minutes.

Ninety-two years later, the four reigning champ from Japan Takeru Kobayashi ate over four and a half times that amount (63 in 12 minutes). I love Nathan's hot dogs, but I couldn't eat 63 of them in one week, much less 12 minutes.

And he didn't even win! Last years winner was the food-named Joey Chestnut, who threw down 66 hot dogs. Incidentally, Chestnut has also competed in food eating competition involving Waffle House waffles, Krystal Burgers, chicken wings, and even a gallon of milk.

At least it might be worth it this year; in 2007, for the first time, cash prizes were awarded, including $10,000 for the winner. But back in the 1970s, the winner of the competition received a less interesting prize -- a book of coupons good for 40 more hot dogs.

Okay, I'm going to go throw up now.

Winners receive the coveted yellow mustard belt. But would it actually fit around their waists after such a competition?

Summer Reading: Old New York style

2008-07-01T09:47:00.005-04:00

There are dozens of classics written about the contemporary New York of their creation, including The Great Gatsby and Catcher In The Rye. And thousands of trashy Manhattan stories chronicling gossip girls, magazine editors and cosmopolitan swilling divorcees.

But the New York historical novel has only really flourished in the past forty years or so due to improved research tools and the popularity of New York themed non-fiction. Not only are they fun to read, but it's a vacation of time, not space.

I highly recommend these five, which all take place in the late 19th/early 20th century, although there are dozens more, and if you have any ideas, please list them in the comments section:

Time And Again -- Jack Finney's playful lite romantic-fantasy is defining work of the historical New York genre. This romantic time-shifting tale sends its hero back to 1882 via a rather unusual time-travel device -- the Dakota Apartments. His adventures take him quite literally all around Manhattan, from the snowy streets of Gramercy Park to burning floors of the New York World building, all the while piecing together the clues of a mysterious letter with a beautiful woman.

The book's enduring appeal is in its romanticism of early New York (through a few key anachronisms) and its many illustrations.

Martin Dressler: The Tale of the American Dream -- Steven Millhauser's industrious lead character winds his way through a number of careers in late 19th century New York, often with striking detail. This won the Pulitzer Prize eleven years ago and is highly recommend to those fascinated with the early history of New York hotels, with their majestic social importance and sumptuous and foolhardy opulence

The Alienist -- This is the least literary of the bunch, but a blast to read. Caleb Carr's page-turner follows an 1896 version of the Scooby Gang through a gothic serial-killer mystery. The action swirls through the Lower East Side, breezing past Union Square's Dead Man's Curve, past the kitchens of Delmonico's and ends at the Croton Reservoir. Suspend that disbelief! (His followup, the Angel of Darkness, can be skipped though.)

Dreamland -- Kevin Baker writes the book I always wanted to write, a look at the early days of Coney Island and one of its best known amusement parks. He somehow manages to weave every imaginable freak through the story and solves the mystery as to why the famous park burnt down. And his depiction of Lower East Side life at the start of the century is some of the most entertaining. (I plan to start his 'Paradise Alley', which starts at the 1863 Draft Riots, very soon.)

The Waterworks -- Actually, it should be required that all New York history lovers read at least one book by E.L. Doctorow. Ragtime is clearly the most famous, and his World's Fair, which ends at the first Flushing Meadows soiree, is a personal favorite (although not really his best written). But I think Waterworks plays has his best 'summer read', a strange detective story with a surreal twist that, like the Alienist, also ties the Croton Reservoir into its storyline.

You got any favorites?

PODCAST: DeWitt Clinton and the Erie Canal

2008-06-28T14:19:00.006-04:00

Meet former mayor, governor, senator and privileged son DeWitt Clinton, one of New York's most successful politicians and champion of the Erie Canal.

Listen to it here or download it from iTunes or other podcasting services:

In this painting by C.Y. Turner, Clinton ceremonially pours a bucket of Lake Eric water into the Hudson River

DeWitt's uncle George, war hero and tenacious governor of New York

This John William Hill painting from 1829 depicts a bucolic stretch of the canal

A very early locomotive, the Dewitt Clinton, ran for two years starting in 1831, running between Albany and Schenectady.

Mayors, gay pride and a podcast delay

2008-06-27T10:59:00.003-04:00

This week's show will be posted on here and up on iTunes tomorrow. Sorry for the delay, but it's a good one!

The show is about a former mayor of New York City. Check out our Know Your Mayors series for little tales on a few prior leaders of the city, the influential and ineffectual.

The picture above is former mayor Guiliani and current mayor Bloomberg at the 2001 Gay Pride Parade. Of course this year's parade is on Sunday, although I doubt Rudy will be making an appearance there. Refresh your memory on the parade's origins by listening to our show on the Stonewall Riots.