A little while back, a website called BlockAvenue.com reached out to me to see if I wanted to contribute by writing up a little entry on "my favorite block in NYC." It sounded like a fun, curious little exercise, so I gamely obliged and wrote up an entry on Cortlandt Alley down off Canal Street. Evidently they liked it so much -- or they were desperately hurting for content -- that they even wrote up a little shout-out on their accompanying (albeit seemingly no longer regularly updated) blog about it. I thought that was jolly nice of them, although it seems that my reasons for liking this particular block (ambiance, local history, atmosphere, aesthetic, cultural significance, etc.) have precious little in common with the reasons most of their other users cite for their favorite blocks (proximity to gyms and Starbucks), which I think is sadly symptomatic of this city's self-awareness. But maybe that's just me being pompous -- certainly wouldn't be a first.
Being the disdainful cynic that I am, the idea of flipping the "favorite block" concept dawned on me yesterday as I stepped out into the roiling human sprawl of midtown to grab a bite of lunch. I'd walked a few blocks south on 6th Avenue while chatting with a colleague before saying "seeya" and randomly turning the nearest corner. I found myself walking east on fabled 47th Street between Sixth and Fifth Avenues. I was instantly struck with the notion that this was categorically my least favorite block in Manhattan.
Now, granted, on a swelteringly hot summer day like yesterday with the temperatures in the mid-90s, pretty much every city street is going to seem unpleasant, but this strip of 47th street distinguishes itself regardless of the climate. For a start, I've always found the diamond trade (which calls 47th Street its figurative and literal epicenter) to sometimes be a little shady and depressing. Braving the sidewalks of 47th Street between Fifth and Sixth means running a gauntlet of pushily predatory card-distributing gophers, all attempting to lure you into their closet-sized places of purveyance to overcharge you for stones that probably aren't as valuable as they are claimed to be. I suppose that's probably no different from virtually every other trade, but it seems especially sleazy in the Diamond District, being that they're preying on the romantic aspirations and vanity of their customers. The whole thing puts me off.
For my money, the only things 47th street had going for it were that it played host to one of the best scenes (see below) in John Schlesinger's amazing 1974 thriller, "Marathon Man" (one of my favorite films of all time) and the storied Gotham Book Mart (you may remember its beautifully iconic "Wise Man Fish Here" signage). But the latter had to move off of 47th in the middle-part of the last decade before moving one block and then eventually closing its doors for good in 2007. But when it first left 47th Street, it took every reason for me to ever walk down that street with it.
I don't remember when they went up, but a number of years back, someone thought it was a grand idea to put up these ridiculous, diamond-topped lamp-towers at both ends of the Diamond District, adding a dash of amusement-parky shlockiness to the proceedings, presumably for the benefit of tourists who had trouble locating the number 47 on numbered grid.
Now, obviously, at the end of the day, the Diamond District is New York City to the bone. It has a rich historical significance and exemplifies the American ideal of inclusive opportunity for all. I wouldn't want to see it diluted or upended to make room for a blinding row of shiny glass condominiums for the uber-wealthy. It's still a rich wellspring of the oft-rhapsodized New York City character that has been syphoned out of so many other neighborhoods across the five boroughs.
I get it. That doesn't mean, however, that I have to enjoy walking down it.
What's your least favorite block?
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