First up, let me just say that I've never really given a hoot about Marilyn Monroe. I have nothing against her, mind you, but I just don't buy into the cult of adoration that continues to surround her this many decades after her tragic demise. While she's the central figure in this photograph, she's kind of incidental to this post.
I spotted the above photograph earlier this month on Marilyn's birthday, and it struck me as curious in the same way that King Crimson crowd shot did earlier this summer. Its source cites it as "Marilyn Monroe in Central Park in 1957" by photographer Sam Shaw, but there are no specifics beyond that. Is it at the Harlem Meer? The boat pond? Look at those buildings in the background. What body of water is that?
So, my question for you are:...
Where in Central Park was this photograph snapped?
Here's yet another fleeting glimpse of the past I bumped to on the `Net. I forget what I was searching for, but I came across this sadly undated and uncredited photograph on this sprawling forum dedicated to photographs of graffiti, of all things. If you're intrigued by street art, I'm dead sure there are some more amazing photographs to be found on it, but it's pretty exhaustive to pour through -- especially given that a lot of the shots are simply of tags of the forgettable chicken-scratch variety, but I'm digressing.
In any case, given that Filth, the debut LP by SWANS was first unleashed in 1983, I'm guessing this photograph dates back to around the same time. I'll let my more eagle-eyed compatriots try to place the location of this corner (can anyone name the address?), although I'm relatively certain it's somewhere on the Lower East Side (not exactly a stretch).
Closer scrutiny reveals that there are two gigs being advertised here, the first being a triple bill of the post-No Wave triumvirate of Sonic Youth, SWANS and the seemingly forgotten Rat at Rat R, all playing the unlikely venue of Wolman Auditorium way the hell uptown at Columbia University (quite a trek for these East Village OverLords). The second gig -- the night before -- was a SWANS show going down at a joint called the Sin Club at 272 East 3rd Street, just off Avenue C.
At the top of the selection of flyers is something advertising "Soviet Sex." I had no idea what that was about, so I did a little Googling, and evidently they were an arty punk band from the Netherlands, ... and they weren't entirely all that bad (see below).
In 2012 -- three decades later -- Sonic Youth is on indefinite hiatus in the wake of the separation of Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore. I have no idea what became of Rat at Rat R, but they haven't released an album since 1991, which doesn't suggest that they're still a going concern. SWANS reformed after a long hiatus around 2009, and have their just released their second post-resumption opus, The Seer, which furthers their inimitably intense music in suitably expansive, sensory-engulfing fashion. Don't bother looking for it in your local sports bar's jukebox.
I have no idea what's become of Soviet Sex.
The Wolman Auditorium up at Columbia was razed in 1996. I regrettably never darkened the doors of The Sin Club, so I'm not entirely positive, but these days, that storefront at that particular address plays host to a dry-cleaning business.
Growing up on the Upper East Side, I vividly remember thinking in my very small years that the Pan Am building (now the MetLife building, of course) to the south on Park Avenue not only looked like the end of the avenue, but -- from certain vantage points -- like the end of the very world itself. It looked as if there was this implausibly high wall at the end of the avenue, similar to the one that kept Kong from wrecking havoc on Skull Island. To this day, if you stand in the middle of Park Avenue up around 92nd street and look down, it still does kinda resemble a massive wall.
It's not, of course.
When it was first erected in the very early 60s, the Pan Am building almost immediately garnered a sizable amount of detractors. I highlighted the article from New York magazine some years back, but according to a piece dubbed "The Buildings New Yorkers Love to Hate," the Pan Am building was #1. People loathed the thing.
I never hated it, but probably because I don't remember a time when it wasn't there. It was just always part of the cityscape. I often speculate if my kids wonder why I'm frequently shaking my fists at certain buildings (or buildings in construction -- notably on Astor Place). For them, NYC has always been this way. But even I remember when there were still swathes of airy, wide open space.
Speaking of wide open space, I found the picture below on the excellent Tumblr, Fuck Yeah Vintage-Retro, and it kinda blew me away. This is a shot from 1958, looking north on Park Avenue from approximately thirty-sixth street or so. Look at all that sky! All you see in the stately Helmsley building. No wonder people hated the Pan Am building.
In the wake of my recent post about my reactions to the Empire State shootings of late last week, a reader who calls himself "a concerned citizen" took me to task for "creepily whitewash[ing]" certain elements of New York City's past for my own sense of "identity and entertainment." To be fair, he did lump me in with my “brethren,” by which I believe he means like-minded blogs like Vanishing New York and EV Grieve and a few others. I countered by saying that I’ve never, to my knowledge, celebrated or tried to downplay the awfulness of the criminal aspects of that era, but rather I've lamented the gradual demise of the open, culturally vibrant environment that those elements (and the city’s economic state at the time) unintentionally afforded starving artists, musicians and the like. You can read it all and join the debate/argument in the comments section of that post.
In any case, I thought I’d put up the above photograph, even though (or perhaps because) it plays into the very accusation the concerned citizen was voicing. I first stumbled upon this photograph -- taken by one Judy Sitz -- courtesy of Marc Master’s book from 2007 on No Wave called … er … “No Wave.” It’s a shot of the subway entrance on Broadway just west of Astor Place, between East 8th Street and Waverly Place.
I was drawn to the photograph for a number of reasons, the most notable being for the X Benefit flyer, advertising a gig by James Chance’s Contortions, Arto Lindsay’s DNA, Glenn Branca’s Theoretical Girls and a couple of other outfits (at the risk of belaboring the obvious, I have very strong doubts that the “Police Band” listed second on the bill is the same ensemble that gave the world “Roxanne” et al.) Though the show in question didn’t feature Mars or any of Lydia Lunch’s bands, the event seems like practically the Woodstock of No Wave. What a skronkily attitudinal evening it must have been.
I’m also compelled by the photograph, meanwhile, in that is captures the grubby, gritty and – yes, wait for it -- menacing vibe of the downtown Manhattan of 1978. I’m projecting of course (in 1978, I was eleven years old, living about eighty-seven blocks to the north and didn’t spend a lot of time on this particular strip), but this photo exudes the aura of frontier cool that allowed bands like DNA and the Theoretical Girls to thrive.
I had this picture taped over my desk for a while, and my 6-year-old son Oliver also became enamored of it because it showcased two old subway lines that no longer exist (Oliver is a budding trainspotter … and by that I mean the literal definition and not the slang for junkie, lest any concerned citizens get further concerned).
Thirty-four years later, that same spot still sits in the center of a very traveled byway. Much like the rest of downtown – nay, Manhattan overall – it’s only thinly recognizable to its former self. You’ll still see the odd band flyer pasted up around the area, but the roiling wellspring of activity, innovation and expression that this and the surrounding neighborhoods used to feed seems long, long vanished.
In 2012, the building that once housed The Terminal – 66 East 4th street – is still there, and officially part of the East 4th Street Cultural District, but noisy art bands don’t play there anymore. James Chance and Glenn Branca can still be occasionally spotted around the streets of New York. I have no idea if Arto Lindsay lives here anymore.
If you haven't already gleaned as much, I am -- for some inexplicable reason -- somewhat obsessed with the doings of Eighth Street. Hell, it should really have its own category on this blog, by this point. In any case, I spotted another development on that troubled strip this evening that I feel compelled to share.
I'm not sure why, but 24 West 8th Street simply cannot get a break. Back in the day -- as the hip kids say -- that address played host to the original Butterfly's, which was every self-respecting rock kid's sartorial paradise. Boasting a sprawling collection of punk and metal t-shirts and accompanying accessories, whether you were a fan of Andi Sex Gang, Adam & the Ants and Visage or Iron Maiden, Venom and Black Flag, Butterfly's had you covered, and then some.
Then, of course -- it closed. And then it was nothing for a great while.
A long time after that, the space re-opened as a upscale wine boutique with the cryptic moniker of Is Wines.
Then, of course -- that closed. And then it was nothing for a great while.
More recently, the space re-opened as a cute and inviting little bakery called the Apple Cafe Bakery. I never went it, but it struck me a nice little place to grab a cupcake or a croissant or maybe even a baguette for your evening meal. But like I said, I never went in, and apparently I wasn't alone in that capacity.
It's something New Yorkers used to joke about, and something nostalgic bloggers like myself come dangerously close at times to even celebrating: New York City's so-called "bad old days." You remember the t-shirts, I'm sure. A picture of a .44 magnum underneath the legend: "Welcome to New York City! Duck Motherfucker!" I suppose in the wake of the one-two punch of Giuliani and Bloomberg, New Yorkers felt safe in lampooning their grisly past in this way, lulled into a false sense of security by those mayors' re-imagining of "fun city."
Yesterday's events, meanwhile, put all that in rather jarring perspective. At the end of the day, there really isn't anything funny or cool about nine injured and two dead because of some despondent apparel-designer with a grudge and a gun.
I'm a tremendous hypocrite, of course. Some of my favorite films include gun-crazy Scorsese flicks like "Taxi Driver," "Mean Streets" and "GoodFellas." I sport a wristwatch emblazoned with the insignia of The Punisher (if you're unfamiliar with the comic book vigilante in question, he looks like this). I own a t-shirt from the fabled Jon Jovino Gun Shop (its pistol-shaped signage made famous by photographer Berenice Abbott in 1930). Hell, one of my favorite bands of all time is named Cop Shoot Cop (although, honestly, one could argue that the band's name is actually an allusion to the junkie's lifestyle -- cop dope, shoot dope, go cop more dope -- but that's not an argument that's going to win one any friends). In other words, I'm as guilty as many others in the celebration of the steel.
I'd like to believe, however, that I'm fully aware of the distinction between what is entertainment -- however morbid and tasteless it might be -- and what is reality. I do not condone the age-old argument that popular culture ultimately fuels gun violence. There's obviously a glorification of it, but I'm not convinced of the cause and effect equation. Millions and millions of people watch violent films, but exceptionally few go out and replicate what they've seen on screen. More to the point, I'm not someone who generally believes that gunplay is the wisest form of conflict resolution. I don't own a gun. I never have, and I sincerely doubt I ever will.
Obviously, lots of folks enamored of the Second Amendment would vehemently disagree with me, as is their wont. That's a problem that's far too complicated to get into here. Suffice to say, I can't imagine why anyone needs to own an assault weapon of any kind. But, y'know -- call me crazy... or an effete liberal pansy or whatever.
I'm not sure why this recent shooting -- the latest in a grim succession -- made that much more of an indelible impression on me more than, say, the Aurora massacre or the Sihk temple attack. Selfishly, it's probably because I walk right through yesterday's crime scene every day on my way to work.
I was also put off by the callous immediacy of how certain media outlets disregarded sensitivity and journalistic standard by presenting fully graphic images of the crime scene almost under an hour after the event had even transpired. BuzzFeed, as one example, posted full-on images of one of the victims. Even the New York Times' website featured a rather robust amount of gratuitous bloodshed right on their homepage (see below and click on it to enlarge in all its gruesome glory). At least BuzzFeed gave you something of a paltry warning.
So what's the big takeaway? Am I afraid of real guns and squeamish about actual bloodshed? Guilty as charged, your honor. Maybe it's time to ditch the Punisher watch.
I spotted an interesting sight this evening. Back in the 90's, I remember the establishment on the northeast corner of East 13th Street and University Place was a slightly grubby noodle shop. It wasn't the sort of place I'd have glanced at twice, but my friend Rob D. (who was taking classes nearby at the New School at the time) absolutely swore by it. Then, I believe, there was a fire and the place closed.
Sometime after that, it re-opened as L'Annam, a restaurant that served Vietnamese food. I remember going once and thinking it was fine, but no great shakes. Regardless, it held court on that corner for years. Right above it was 13, a sort of cut-rate dance club with no readily definable motif. I went there as well a couple of times in the late `90s, but never thought much of it.
Within the last six months or so, L'Annam closed without a word, and the exterior of the place fell into disrepair. When Occupy Wall Street set up shop in Union Square this past spring, the alcoves of L'Annam's doors served as makeshift overnight shelters for the more devoted participants. Beyond that, the place just continued to erode.
In the last couple of weeks, a sidewalk shed sprouted up around it, and as I walking home this evening, I noticed that the building's antiquated infrastructure -- replete with what looks like thin Corinthian columns -- has been exposed like a stark reminder of the original building's considerable age. It now looks like 13 is on stilts.
What will become of the space next is anyone's guess.
I'm not sure why it's worked out this way, but I've always had a hard time warming to the Walkman. Maybe it's because I preferred their original incarnation as Jonathan Fire*Eater. Maybe it's because I think their name is stupid (it is). Maybe it's because their lead singer's name is Hamilton Leithauser. Maybe it stems from the time when they shared a bill with Firewater at the Bowery Ballroom back in the early 2000's, there was a palpable vibe of antagonism between the two camps (mess with Firewater, and you're dead to me forever). Maybe I just thought they were pretentious.
In the ensuing years, my ire for the band has relaxed a bit, and I must admit they've cranked out the odd great single (notably "We've Been Had" and "Canadian Girl"). While I doubt I'll ever count myself as one of their ardent supporters (and you'll never see me sporting one of their t-shirts --- they're crushed, I'm sure), when I spotted the below video for "Heartbreaker" (mercifully not a Zeppelin cover), I felt my defenses against them dissipate all the more. As has been well documented on this blog, make a video that's a visual love-letter to NYC, and I'll be a sucker for it every time.
Hey again, all. Well, this one was solved quickly. Reader James Taylor rightly determined the specifics of the photo below to be that Andy Warhol is depicted on East 11th Street, cycling WEST between Broadway and University Place, and reader BabyDave correctly named Andy's companion as photographer Christopher Makos. The photographer responsible for this picture is one Robert Levin.
Here's a shot of that same patch of real estate today....
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