Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Village Voice

The Village Voice is vanishing from the streets of New York--and something critical will go with it.

Yesterday, the Hollywood Reporter announced that the Voice will soon be going digital only. No more print. No more paper. No more ink. After 62 years of gracing the streets of the city, from newsstands to red boxes, no more.



The decision came from the paper's latest owner, Peter Barbey, media mogul and heir to the billion-dollar fortune behind retail brands like The North Face and Timberland. Barbey has recently been at the center of a struggle with the Voice's union workers--they published an open letter to him just last month, asking him not to weaken the union and cut benefits.

And now this cut.

Across social media, public outcry against the decision was swift, with many New Yorkers fondly recalling the days of waiting for the paper to come out each week, lining up at the old newsstand on Astor Place to grab the first copies from the pile, to be the first to search for jobs and apartments.

Wrote the Times, "Without it, if you are a New Yorker of a certain age, chances are you would have never found your first apartment. Never discovered your favorite punk band, spouted your first post-Structuralist literary jargon, bought that unfortunate futon sofa..." "But," they concluded, "the printed paper was also an artifact of a downtown world that no longer exists."


Astor Place

A vanished paper from a vanished city?

I asked Michael Musto and Penny Arcade their thoughts on the Voice's physical demise.

Michael Musto said, "The Voice has long valued their online presence, so I think it will stay valid. There's something lost in that the actual paper was historic and there's something about holding a paper in your hand that was always personal and special. But things are changing, and the focus on the Internet venue--while not necessarily as lucrative as the paper used to be--still allows for possibility, surprise, and hopefully relevance."

Penny Arcade told me, "Truth is, the Village Voice was destroyed and made redundant by 1995. It was an exquisite relic, like some Catholic saints that die but do not physically rot, a monument to a way of life that was eroding in our city. But when New York was New York and downtown was downtown, the Village Voice was the communication organ we were all connected to, not only those of us who lived in New York, but from all over the world. Like-minded people communicated through the Voice. It was the town crier. That back page was the neighborhood bulletin board. The Voice was a tangible piece of New York, so I suppose now that New York itself is no longer tangible, the physical, palpable Voice is no longer necessary."


The original Astor Place newsstand, 2007

It may not be what it was, but the Voice's physical presence on the street still maintains a certain gravitas. You see it almost everywhere you go, reading its headlines as you pass. Opening the kiosk door and bending down to grab a copy, folding it under your arm as you hurry on, it feels right, part of the urban hustle and routine.

The people holding the Voice exude a cool intelligence. When you see them, you feel a kinship. Of course, you see them less and less, all those artsy lefties, all those cranky city people. Where did they go? Back in 1994, in an article titled "Last of the Red-Hot Lefties," Voice publisher David Schneiderman told New York magazine, "The perception that we're actually difficult, cranky, and cantankerous is our reality."

"Cantankerous" might be the word most often associated with the paper. That used to be a good thing around here. It meant dissent. It meant New York. But that good, old crankiness that kept the city so brilliant and brisk has been under assault for awhile.

In the suburbanized, corporatized city, crankiness isn't welcome. They don't want us to be difficult.


1987

Back in 1995 David Brooks wrote in the neoliberal, conservative City Journal, “It would be a shame if New York dragged on through the next decades as a wayward home for cranky, marginalized dissenters.” The city was changing in a new way, and Brooks saw the future. “Over the longer term,” he wrote, “New Yorkers might--dare I say it?--change. New York liberalism will gradually dissolve; cultural attitudes will drift toward the mainstream.”

Today the mainstreaming of the city is nearly complete. The corporations, real estate developers, and financial elites--along with their aspirational followers--don't like the cantankerous and the cranky. They want us to be docile, to go along with it, to lie back and think of England while they do their business.

If you resist? They'll call you cranky--and they won't mean it as a compliment.

I am often dismissed as cranky by these people. Recently, I was fortunate to be on the cover of the Voice--and to be reviewed in its inky pages. It was an honor. I write a blog, but I have little love for the digital. Print is powerful. Print is legit. The digital is--too often--a lot of noise. Stuff to be skimmed. Piles of content to feed our increasingly shitty attention spans. I'd like to think the Voice included me because they saw me as cranky like them. In the good way.



The Voice was born of New York's rebel spirit. Over the last two decades, the teeth have been taken from the mouth of this town crier. And now it will be deprived of its body.

Maybe the Internet will free it again, make it wild. But many of us will miss its physical presence, the way it took up space on the streets, how it accompanied us as we walked along, plowing the sidewalks, cranky and difficult and very much alive.

The Voice on paper, however much of a relic it has become, still stands as a visible reminder of what the city used to be. Let us not forget.





Monday, August 21, 2017

Taxi Parts

Two years ago, a little taxi parts shop called, aptly, Taxi Parts, was forced out of its long-time home and moved to the East Village. Now it's gone.



As E.V. Grieve reported, they moved to East Harlem. We can guess it was the rent that pushed them out.

Before this, the shop had been up on 10th Avenue and 35th St. for 25 years, on the ground floor of an old tenement building near Hudson Yards. They had to move when it was decreed that the building would be demolished for the Hudson Spire, planned to be the tallest building in the United States. But, as Curbed reported last year, "those plans have since been abandoned."

So the original Taxi Parts space sits empty. And now the next Taxi Parts space sits empty -- along with a few other empty spaces along First Avenue in the East Village.

This is what happens in the hyper-gentrified city. Stable, long-lasting small businesses get pushed around by rising rents and developers, and then they're not so stable anymore. And neither are the streets of our city.

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Doughnut for Domino

The first building in the luxury mega-development replacing Williamsburg's Domino Sugar factory is now seeking tenants. 325 Kent just put out the welcome mat, a big banner on view to Manhattanites along the East River.



Go close-up and you'll find their "Walk-ins Welcome" signs feature different flavors of doughnuts.

They look artisanal, of course, because it's Williamsburg. (Does the neighborhood still hawk hundred-dollar doughnuts dipped in 24-karat gold?)

They're also square, like the building, and no doubt are meant to appeal to the foodies who have claimed Brooklyn in the 2000s.



Anyway, I walked in, but didn't feel especially welcome and walked right back out.

As Curbed reported: "market-rate apartments in the building will start at $2,495 for studios, $3,250 for one-bedrooms, and $5,195 for two bedrooms." And "The first retail tenant will be a 4,000-square-foot outpost of Clinton Hill craft beer bar Mekelburg’s, known for serving 'epicurean baked potatoes,' apparently."



On Saturday, August 19, you can see The Domino Effect, a documentary on the rezoning and subsequent hyper-gentrification of Williamsburg and Greenpoint. It's playing at 2:00 at the Jamaica Center for Arts and Learning, 161-04 Jamaica Ave in Queens. A "talk back" with the filmmakers will follow the screening.


The Domino Effect (Trailer) from The Domino Effect on Vimeo.



Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Empire City

Empire City, a documentary film from 1985, is now streaming for rental on Vimeo.

While it was originally meant to contrast 1980s New York with the "golden age" from 1830 - 1930, it provides a rare and fascinating glimpse of the city at the very moment it shifted fully from the socially progressive era and into the Neoliberal Age of radical free-market economics.

Looking back three decades later, we can see the beginning of the glossy, greedy epoch in which we now live.



The film features the creators of today's city, from Donald Trump to Felix Rohatyn and David Rockefeller. In one scene, a young Trump stands with Mayor Ed Koch at a topping-out ceremony for yet another Midtown tower and says, "This mayor has created such a tremendous atmosphere with respect to the city of New York. Eight years ago, I must say, I was embarrassed to say I was in the real estate business in New York. Today, I can honestly say I'm proud of it."

That atmosphere was one that explicitly favored developers over everyday New Yorkers.

In the 1980s, under Koch, City Hall’s goal became to re-create New York, making it friendly to big business, tourists, real estate developers, and upscale professionals. In the process, City Hall turned away from its citizens. CUNY professor and urbanist David Harvey has called this the shift from managerialism to entrepreneurialism, meaning that the city government changed its main priority from providing services and benefits for its own people to competing with other cities for outside human resources and capital. In the new competitive city, attracting tourists, newcomers, and corporations was (and still is) more important than taking care of New Yorkers.

Koch discusses this shift in Empire City, saying that New York is now for "banks, insurance companies, white-collar jobs," and not manufacturing. During his tenure he gifted developers and corporations with the expansion of three kinds of tax abatement: J-51, giving subsidies to landlords to renovate apartments and increase gentrification; 421a, reducing taxes on luxury buildings to induce their construction in “underused” areas; and individual incentives that gave hundreds of millions to corporations like AT&T to bribe them into doing business in New York. It was an expensive smorgasbord. According to urban anthropologist Roger Sanjek, “Between 1984 and 1989, J-51 and 421a tax losses together cost the city $1.4 billion.”

(In 2016, the Times reported that, over the course of his career, Trump “reaped at least $885 million in tax breaks, grants, and other subsidies for luxury apartments, hotels, and office buildings in New York.”)

For the rest of the city, it was austerity -- disinvestment, cut-backs, and layoffs.



Empire City provides a tale of two cities as it takes a look at the impact of austerity and urban renewal on New York's most vulnerable citizens. Director Michael Blackwood visits Harlem and the Bowery, interviewing locals, authors, and activists like Jane Jacobs.

On the increasing class and race segregation, Herman Badillo says, "The mayor is not the mayor of New York City. He doesn't represent half the people of New York City. He only represents the whites. He's not interested in the black or Hispanic communities. He's only the mayor of the affluent part of New York City."

Discussing early gentrification, social worker Rita Smith notes, "Poverty is a business. They move you into areas, and then a slum results, and then they move in and build it up. There is a purpose to everything that is going on."


Empire City from Michael Blackwood Productions on Vimeo

The decisions made at that time still reverberate today. They laid the foundations for hyper-gentrification and the vast gap of inequality that plagues New York in the twenty-first century. This is not "change as usual." It isn't natural and isn't inevitable. It was deliberate. It had a purpose--and that purpose has now been realized.

As Norman Mailer says in the film, "Manhattan has been sacked architecturally. Its neighborhoods have been destroyed." Tall towers with "repellent surfaces" speak to the "nature of power: It's abstract, it's impersonal, it's immense, and you can't get near it. What it says is that we at the top don't give a damn about you at the bottom."


For more on this topic, read my book, along with Fear City and The Assassination of New York.





Monday, August 14, 2017

Sal Debates

Democratic mayoral candidate Sal Albanese has qualified to debate Mayor Bill de Blasio. The first primary debate is scheduled for August 23 at 7:00PM (aired on NY1 and WNYC radio), and the second is on September 6 at 7:00PM (WCBS-TV, 1010 WINS, and NewsRadio 88).


photo: Jennifer S. Altman

From the press release:

"Sal Albanese’s mayoral campaign reports that not only has the campaign had its best fundraising month ever – bringing in about $65,000 – but that the campaign has exceeded the financial 'raise and spend' bar required to be in the official debates. The campaign has raised approximately $190,000, and has spent at least $174,000.

'I never doubted that we’d raise enough money to be on the debate stage,' said Albanese. 'Each month, as our message gets out, we are raising more awareness and more money. Everywhere we go, people are unenthused and even angry about Mayor de Blasio’s performance. He is uninterested in the job, and is a part-time Mayor, at best. I am looking forward to the debate. I hope to show New Yorkers that it is possible to have a Mayor who actually wants the job, will show up for it on time, every day, who will stop the legalized corruption that’s filled City Hall and who will work tirelessly for the everyday New Yorker,' he added."

Albanese supports campaign finance reform, along with real protections for our small businesses. For more on Sal, check out my interview with him here.

He still needs to raise another $150,000 to qualify for 6 to 1 matching funds from the Campaign Finance Board. Consider making a donation. Large or small, every dollar counts.

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

French Roast 2

Recently I posted on the closure of French Roast's Village location.

Here it is today, the windows covered in paper.



A sign on the door says, "We are closed for renovation" and "Thank you for all the great years together as French Roast." Which makes me wonder if this restaurant is coming back as some other version of itself.

Or not.

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

Carole Teller’s Changing New York

As part of their online Historic Image Archive, the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation (GVSHP) has just released a new collection called Carole Teller’s Changing New York.


Veselka, by Carole Teller, c. 1980

They write:

"Carole Teller is an artist who has lived in the East Village since the early 1960s. As a photographer, she had a keen and often prescient eye, capturing in her daily travels people and places that struck her, but which were also often on the precipice of change or disappearing. In some cases these were buildings in the process of being demolished, like Penn Station or tenements being cleared for urban renewal. In other cases they were fading painted signs growing fainter by the day. But often these were people, businesses, street scenes, or layers of grit or decay which were integral parts of her New York, but which were frequently on the edge of transformation, revival, or removal."


Astor Place, Carole Teller, early 1980s

For this post, I've selected a few choice shots from around the East Village.

There's the old Veselka before its renovation. And Astor Place before the Green Monster landed, back when the parking lot provided for a "thieves' market" and the public space was a true public space.


Block Drugs and M. Schacht's, Carole Teller, mid-1980s

Block Drugs is still there today, with its glorious neon sign, but M. Schacht's is long gone--along with "APPETIZING." Gem Spa remains, but the St. Marks Cinema has vanished.

There are many more photos to browse, and they are for sale as prints, with funds going to support the preservation work of GVSHP.


Gem Spa and St. Marks Cinema, Carole Teller, c. 1980


Monday, August 7, 2017

Amato to Nothing

Back in 2009, we said goodbye to the great Amato Opera House, on the Bowery for 60 years.


2009

The building was sold and sold again. Recently, the plywood was removed to reveal this--a stark white box awaiting a luxury chain store or an art gallery or a restaurant. Certainly not a rag-tag, affordable opera house.



As Bowery Boogie noted last year, infamous local landlord Steve Croman was "converting 319 Bowery into a mixed-use dwelling befitting Bowery 2.0. Three glitzy, full-floor apartments, including the aforementioned penthouse will sit atop the ground level store. The retail space was last on the market in 2014, asking a whopping $35,000 per month in rent."

Gothic Cabinet to Blue Mercury

Last year, Gothic Cabinet Craft closed on Third Avenue in the East Village. As E.V. Grieve noted, this location was its first, "when Theodore Zaharopoulos set up shop on the corner in 1969."

Now it's this.

Blue Mercury: "an iconic high-growth luxury beauty retail chain."




Friday, August 4, 2017

Manny's

The heart of old Music Row has been just been cleared for demolition.



Fast Company reports:

"The former site of Manny’s Music at 156 West 48th Street in Manhattan has been approved for demolition, according to a city permit issued last month. It’s a final nail in the coffin for the legendary music store that served as a mecca for generations of musicians and once stood as the crown jewel of New York’s famed Music Row."



Manny's was here since 1935 and closed in 2009. It was a mecca for musicians famous and not. Then Music Row started getting murdered. One after another, the shops shuttered, replaced by Dunkin Donuts or nothing at all. Rudy's Music Stop and Alex Accordion were the last to go.


before

I walked along that block of West 48th a few weeks ago to see what had become of it.

The name MANNY'S embedded in the doorstep was oddly missing. It had been cemented over. Why? The only reason I can think of to do such a thing is to "scalp" the building, a tactic used by developers when they don't want a building landmarked before they can demolish it.

Manny's was not landmarked.

*UPDATE: Chris writes in the comments: "I heard from a trusted source that the MANNY'S terrazzo at the front door was removed and taken to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland."


after

According to Fast Company:

It was "unclear if the former Manny’s site would even rise to a level city officials would consider worthy of such protection. A spokeswoman for the landmarks commission told me the agency has not received any requests to evaluate the building."



Thursday, August 3, 2017

Riviera Cafe

VANISHING?

Sad news for yet another classic dining spot. Word went buzzing around social media last night that the Riviera Cafe in Greenwich Village is closing August 31. I've not confirmed it with the Riviera, but the source is credible.

Michael Musto wrote on his Facebook page:

"Riviera Cafe & Sports Bar is closing at the end of the month after 48 years. I recently plugged the place in the Post for its great al fresco people watching. I go virtually every Friday for dinner with Lynn Yaeger and I have the salmon burrito or the corn salad with chicken. I LOVE THIS PLACE and the manager, Jean. It has long been an essential part of a West Village jaunt en route to Marie's, Pieces, Hangar Bar and Rockbar. I pray some generic shithole doesn't go up, or worse a high rise."


photo: Wally Gobetz

The Riviera might look like just another sports bar, and a Boston Red Sox bar at that, but it's much more. A classic hangout for hipsters (the old-school kind) since the 1960s, this is where Lou Reed kicked John Cale out of The Velvet Underground.

More recently, it's been a comfortable and affordable spot, a place to meet friends, an oasis away from the usual ugliness that Greenwich Village has become.


Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Great Jones Returns

UN-VANISHING

After seemingly shuttering and inspiring teary goodbyes, the Great Jones Cafe is rising from the almost-dead.



Word is shooting around social media, and the cafe's website confirms it:

"The Reports of Our Demise Were Greatly Exaggerated (to paraphrase Twain). After a week off, we reopen Wednesday, August 2nd at 5 PM. See you then !!!"

Said one commenter on the cafe's Facebook page, "This has been an emotional roller coaster ride."

UPDATE: Here's the inside scoop.


Monday, July 31, 2017

Before We Got Starfucked

Jen Fisher runs a well-loved book table on the sidewalk at St. Mark's and Avenue A. Tomorrow, the table will become a memorial exhibit called "Before we got Starfucked: A Memorial for the Lower East Side before it became the East Village."



Jen and the resident artist Ana Marton describe it as:

"A personal archive of a LES resident from the late 80s to early 90s of photographs, newspaper cuts, flyers and B&W Xerox books will be displayed on Tuesday, August 1st, 2017 from 530-8PM outside, on the corner of Ave A and St. Mark's Place, where the bookstall usually is.

The archive is based on 80s and 90s events such as The Tent City in Tompkins Square Park, the annual Stations of the Cross, Father George Kuhn, and the fight against gentrification as it was recorded and put together by a resident of the Lower East Side. Seen in the light of today's ongoing destruction of our neighborhood, we believe that this archive has acquired historical relevance as a record of the Lower East Side and the life it once contained."

Lanza's Murals

When the 112-year-old Lanza's suddenly shuttered last year, many of us were heartbroken to lose the gorgeous red-sauce joint, especially after the loss of so many others.



When E.V. Grieve reported that Joe & Pat's, a 57-year-old pizzeria on Staten Island, would be moving into the space, many of us felt hopeful. Lanza's would not become a Starbucks or an artisanal bone brotherie. It would, at least, remain Italian--and New York.

But I worried about the antique murals.



Now the renovation of Lanza's has begun. I recently walked past this troubling sight--scaffolding, wheelbarrows full of concrete. They're putting in a new floor, which is alright--the old floor of Lanza's wasn't anything special.

What about the murals?



When I peeked inside I saw plastic sheets taped to the walls--and I am going on the assumption that they are there to protect the murals.

If you click the photo below twice, you can see, above the shoulder of the young man in the "Extreme Violence" t-shirt, the painting of the half-topless woman beneath a plastic sheet. She's not as fully covered as she ought to be, however, so let's hope for the best.



You can also see that the pressed-tin ceiling has apparently been removed--hopefully for refurbishment and re-installation. 

And while we're hoping, let's hope all the antique stained glass makes a comeback, too.






Friday, July 28, 2017

Solidarity for The Voice

The Village Voice, historically the alternative voice of New York City, is struggling to save its soul.



Two years ago the paper was purchased by Peter Barbey, a member of one of America's 50 richest families, according to Forbes. It looked good at first. The staff was hopeful. "The atmosphere at the Voice, though, quickly soured," Hamilton Nolan explains in his thorough piece on the story, "The Village Voice's Liberal Savior Owner Is Trying to Crush its Union."

An editor was hired and fired. The paper got a cosmetic overhaul. And Barbey "is no longer perceived as the hero who will save the day." Union negotiations have been especially tough. In his article, Nolan lays out the details of what could be lost, including Affirmative Action, child care leave, sick days, severance, and much more.

In response, earlier this week, a host of respected authors and journalists signed an Open Letter to Peter Barbey.

"We stand in solidarity with our colleagues in the Village Voice Union," they say. "We hope you will meet its members with a fair and reasonable contract, upholding their hard-won rights and benefits. If you do, our entire field will be much richer for it."

The letter is signed by Hilton Als, Ta-Nehisi Coates, Vivian Gornick, Colson Whitehead, Manohla Dargis, Michael Musto, and many more.

If you would like to support the Voice's union, consider a donation to their Strike Fund: "In the event of a strike, Voice employees who are members of the union will not be paid. Your donation will be used to help us survive, and will help show management that the community supports our struggle."






Francisco's Centro Vasco

VANISHED

On 23rd Street in Chelsea since 1979, Francisco's Centro Vasco has now closed.



Bedford & Bowery reports: "Yesterday, a sign on the door announced that it had 'closed permanently' and thanked customers for 'over 35 years' of patronage."

Last September, they suffered after the terrorist bomb explosion, but they managed to reopen. The reason for the permanent closure is not known. Francisco's was one of the last of a dwindling number of Spanish restaurants in the city, along with El Quijote in the nearby Chelsea Hotel and Spain, on 13th Street.

UPDATE: The owner had a change of heart--they're not closing.

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Park Deli

VANISHING

"I stay here," says Krystyna Godawa. "I'm not moving."

For the past ten years, Krystyna has run the Park Delicatessen at the edge of McGolrick Park on Nassau Street in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. The deli has been here since the 1930s. But the landlord recently doubled the rent and Krystyna can't afford it. She's looking for another spot nearby and plans to stay put until she finds it.



Customers come in and out of the shop, ordering meals to go from the refrigerated case of home-cooked pierogi, potato salad, chicken cutlets, cole slaw, and beets. They stop to ask Krystyna, in Polish and in English, "Any news? When's the last day?" They promise, "I'll keep my fingers crossed."

And then they touch Krystyna--they all touch the woman they call Babcia Krysia, "Grandma Krystyna"--on the shoulder, the arm, the back of the neck. Their touches are tender and familial. They are family.



Krystyna holds their histories--the births of their children, the deaths of their parents--as she holds the history of the deli, still making German dishes that hearken back to the days when the place was Mullenbrock's delicatessen. Back in Poland, Krystyna worked as a librarian, another kind of preservationist, another holder of memory.

"I'm only ten years here and this is sentiment to me," Krystyna says, looking around the shop. "If you like your job, you put the heart." Losing the deli is like a death. "It is like you take out your heart from your body."

She feels powerless to stop the loss, "like kids who cannot do nothing, like tied my hands."



Her lease expired in April and she'd been on a month-to-month since. But once her landlord found a new tenant (rumored to be an ice-cream shop), she gave Krystyna until August 1 to vacate. It's too soon. Krystyna has no place to go--and she's having trouble finding an affordable rent in a neighborhood that is gentrifying.

"I will try to do everything to stay with my people," she says, referring to her customers, the people who give her "heart and happiness." Her blue-green eyes fill with tears. As she feels the grief of her own loss, she also feels her customers' grief.

"If I have to close, okay. But I see how much people want this place, how much people like me, and it's very tough to me. That is the worst. How can I live if I don't have my customers?"



Heart and sentiment are important to Krystyna. It's the stuff that keeps people connected, that keeps neighborhood communities together. But she sees these positive forces diminishing in the world. The new generation, she says, is cold. The newcomers to her apartment building don't say hello, don't hold the door. They all seem disconnected and disinterested.

"Life is too tough," she says. "If we're not nice to each other, what kind of life is it? The sentiment is second now."

What's first?

"Money. Everything is about the money."


photo by Yulia Zinshtein

If you visit the Park Deli before it's gone, you'll find a neon sign in the window that reads: VANISHING. A few of the letters flicker.

It is the work of artists Troy Kreiner and Brian Broker of Shameless Enterprise, in collaboration with "Vanishing New York" and built by neon artist Patrick Nash. This is the second installation, after Cake Shop earlier this year.

People walking by see the sign and come in to talk to Krystyna. "It's a shame," they say. "Soon all the small businesses will be nothing."


photo by Yulia Zinshtein







Tuesday, July 25, 2017

French Roast Downtown

VANISHING

Today is the last day for French Roast in Greenwich Village. Located on 11th Street and 6th Avenue since I don't know when, the bistro will close its doors tonight. (H/T New York Foodscape.)



Employees were unable to say why the place is closing, but we can guess. The uptown location will remain open.

*Update: Many people in the comments are remembering a Blimpie here--yes, there was. Here's that story.

Pub Day

Today is the official publication day for Vanishing New York: How a Great City Lost Its Soul. You can now buy it wherever books are sold. (Like your local independent bookstore.)


At Spoonbill & Sugartown

You can also get a copy at the launch party this Thursday night at Housing Works Bookstore Cafe, or next Thursday night at the Brooklyn launch party at powerHouse Arena. For a full list of book events, click here.

In the meantime, check out two exclusive excerpts: the East Village chapter at Longreads and the tourism chapter at Vice.


At the Strand

Reviews:
“Essential reading for fans of Jane Jacobs, Joseph Mitchell, Patti Smith, Luc Sante, and cheap pierogi.” –David Kamp, Vanity Fair

“This is a very good, angrily passionate, and ultimately saddening book…. a brilliantly written and well-informed account.” –Booklist, starred review

“Vanishing New York is an urban-activist polemic in the tradition of Jane Jacobs’s Death and Life of Great American Cities: Every page is charged with Moss’s deep love of New York. It is both a vital and unequivocally depressing read.” –Molly Fitzpatrick, Village Voice

“a compelling and often necessary read…. One of the great accomplishments of this nearly 500-page polemic, is that even as I read through in a state of outrage and sadness, I was also reassured: I am not crazy. The city really has vanished…” –Glynnis MacNicol, Daily Beast

“a vigorous, righteously indignant book that would do Jane Jacobs proud.” –Kirkus

“This polemic is likely to stir a lot of emotions.”—Publishers Weekly

“A relevant lamentation of New York’s rebellious, nonconformist past and its path toward an inexpressive mélange of glass and steel big box stores and chain restaurants.”
–New York Journal of Books


Monday, July 24, 2017

More Hotels, Fewer Flowers

In the Flower District, along West 28th Street between 6th and 7th, the fragrant green jungle of the sidewalks continues to vanish.

Another hotel is coming.



It's a big one: 45 stories, 146,000 square feet, 522 rooms. Said architect Gene Kaufman, “The demand for hotel rooms in Chelsea continues to grow, with ever larger and ever-taller hotels being constructed to accommodate the number of tourists wishing to stay in this vibrant neighborhood."

This glass behemoth joins several more new tourist hotels here. In fact, the block is becoming nothing but hotels. I can't think of a worse death for what was a wonderful and unique little district.

Ten years ago, I talked to some of the plant sellers. One told me, “10 to 15 years ago, it was all flowers. Now it’s dead. They’re putting up 22 new hotels in a 5-block radius. Only those of us with a good lease will stay.” Another echoed the sentiment, “Some will leave, some will stay. All the city wants is big business. There are 3 hotels going up on this block.”



There are only a few green sections left. I walk through as often as I can, taking my time to smell the flowers. Literally. Right now, the place smells of gardenia.



And there are the Flower District cats, at least six that I've counted, lounging among the succulents and orchids.



This is life. This is real. This is New York. And it's being destroyed, like everywhere else, replaced by the dull and the dead. But it doesn't have to be this way. There are alternatives.