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Oy Vey!

Posted on May 16, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments2

Sometime in the early 1970s, I found myself in the unenviable position of being in New York City with no place to live. For a time, I lived, or, better said, crashed, with a number of people in a variety of scenarios, living out of a suitcase.

One brief stay was as the guest of four women, at least one of whom was clearly not a New Yorker. One evening, this girl was busy finishing her shower in the bathroom and overheard the Yiddish expression, Oy Vey iz mir, I’m chalishing (oh my, I’m fainting). Unfamiliar to her, we attempted to teach her how to say it. Her interpretation went something like: Ova schmear, allava hallashing. I wondered whether an ova schmear was some medical procedure unfamiliar to me. From the living room, we urged her to repeat it over and over. On each telling, she popped her head out of the bathroom and proudly volunteered, “Ova schmear, allava hallashing.”

As she retreated, we laughed hysterically and secretly, never revealing how severely crippled her mispronunciation was, perhaps the worst bastardization of Yiddish I have ever heard. The scene was hilarious and reminiscent of a sophomoric prank in Wayne’s World where Mike Myers and Dana Carvey trick their mother to repeatedly announce a phone call from a mythical “Mr. Sphincter.”

Some Yiddish is a rite of passage in New York City. Certainly a working knowledge of basic words and phrases is a necessity. The lack of familiarity is a dead giveaway that an individual is an out-of-towner. If you doubt how much Yiddish is part of the fabric of the city, note the sign on the Williamsburg Bridge which proclaims, Leaving Brooklyn, Oy Vey!, below which one finds the names of the Borough President, Marty Markowitz, and Mayor Michael Bloomberg, both Jewish. Williamsburg, Brooklyn, has the world’s largest enclave of Satmar Hasidic Jews, estimated at 60,000 of the world’s 150,000.
The sign leaves no doubt of where you are. You should know that iz mir bears no connection to a schmear, which is a thin coating of cream cheese on a bagel, and that ova are eggs. And if you don’t, we New Yorkers can only say in despair, Oy Vey!

Related Posts: Essen or Fressen?, Hakafot, Chutzpah, Bagels

Posted on May 16, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments2

This entry was posted in Curiosities of NYC, Only in New York. Bookmark the permalink.
The Knell Tolls for Thee

Posted on May 14, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments2

The local news during the last several days could easily be called Ode to Joe’s Dairy as one publication after the next paid its respects to the passing of one of New York City’s icons. I felt so strongly about the importance of this small establishment that in February 2012, I made several visits, interviewed the owners, and made a short two-part video documentary – I have reposted them here.

Joe’s Dairy, located at 156 Sullivan Street in this Italian area of the South Village/SoHo, is the type of place that gives New York its unique character. The real deal, a place family owned for eons. Although I referred to it as “stability in a world of change,” I knew full well that it was just a matter of time. The owner had told me, during my visit, that closure was inevitable. It’s a scenario replayed many times. Even when there are children, few wish to follow in their parents’ footsteps.

The lure of money and everything NYC has to offer is much greater than spending long days making mozzarella. Often, parents want better for their children and discourage them from continuing the family business.

Sometimes a detour is made, where, after a college education and work in the corporate world, a family member will return to continue the legacy of the family. This was the case with Nom Wah Tea Parlor. But this is the exception, not the rule.

But let’s be fair. As Jill Eisenstadt so poignantly said, nostalgia is a heavy shovel. And, regardless of any romantic notions, who wants to slave over boiling vats trapped in a tiny kitchen, turning out over 1000 pounds of mozzarella, day after day? Watch my videos and tell me if you or anyone you know really wants to do this work. Nonetheless, as I passed by to photograph the shuttered storefront and read their letter of thanks posted on the window, I was saddened. It was, however briefly, a morning of mourning. Ironically, I had spoken to them only a year ago about the bells of St. Anthony’s across the street, how I had heard the sombre ringing for a funeral and had written a story, For Whom the Knell Tolled. And now, for Vincent and Anthony Campanelli, The Knell Tolls for Thee

Posted on May 14, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments2

This entry was posted in NYC's History, Stores. Bookmark the permalink.
Favorites, Part 1

Posted on May 10, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments3

New York Daily Photo is now over 7 years old. Since 2006, I have posted nearly 2000 stories with accompanying photos. As would be expected, the output varies. Some stories were quite elaborate and took considerable work, sometimes days or weeks, to complete. A number were written in two parts, with Part 1 as a deliberate teaser.

Over time, I wove more and more personal experience into the stories, drawing from everything in my life, both in New York City and where I grew up in New England. I made the story titles enigmatic to draw readers into the text to see how unlikely elements were connected. My greatest rewards were when my favorite stories resonated and became yours too.
However, all of these favorites, most viewed and most commented stories, are buried in archives. So, my biggest frustration is how to mine this content and bring the best to you. Today I am launching the first installment of my and your Favorites…

Posted on May 10, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments3

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Blossom

Posted on May 7, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comment1

In Back To Our Main Feature, I wrote of how, in New York City, Mother Nature takes a back seat to the people and everything that people make and do. Certainly, no one lives in this city for nature’s splendor, nor do they visit as ecotourists. And at its extreme, I have heard remarks that champion its dirt and edge. During the battle over the renovation of Washington Square Park, some accused architect George Vellonakis as wanting to turn the park into a flower garden. Yes, it was an accusation, not praise – many of his opponents bristled at the thought of the park losing its edge by being beautified and, as they saw it, sanitized. In 2009, I wrote in Toronto:

But many defend the edginess and grit of New York City as important, defining characteristics. I remember reading an article years ago speaking to this. The article was defending the edginess and made a suggestion for those who did not see the grit’s charm: “There’s a place for you. It’s called Toronto.”

However, in small and large ways, there are many, many here who work to improve the quality of life through nature. There are community gardens, botanic gardens, flower shops, zoos, and parks, including some of the world’s most outstanding such as Central and Prospect Parks. Of course, nature’s cup does not runneth over in New York, and those seeking such things must look a little harder. For urban explorers willing to travel to New York’s hinterlands, one’s journey may be rewarded by beautiful places like Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge.

The efforts can be seen everywhere. Abutting a nondescript brick wall aired by a building’s exhaust, isolated and forgotten in a small patch roadside choked with car fumes, within a park surrounded by towering glass and steel, flanking a dog run and public toilets, or growing along side an electrical junction box in Staten Island – make no mistake. Here, as everywhere, the human spirit can and will, like flowers in spring, Blossom.

Posted on May 7, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comment1

This entry was posted in Natural NYC, Scenic NYC. Bookmark the permalink.
No False Promise

Posted on May 2, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments2

I am frustrated reading about fascinating places in New York City that are off-limits to the general public and seeing superb photo galleries from the brave and lucky souls who have visited. Places such as the abandoned City Hall subway station, inside the Domino Sugar Factory, North Brother Island, U Thant Island, and the top chamber in Washington Square Arch.

There are numerous guidebooks to NYC that purport to be not for tourists, offering an insider’s view or secrets of the city. But the aforementioned places are the REAL secrets of the city – places that are inaccessible, on private property that will require trespassing, or just very remote and little known, like Dead Horse Bay, The Hole, or Willets Point. Urban explorers daring and brazen enough to risk arrest or mishaps have visited all these spots, and their travails are documented on the handful of websites inclined to cover such as undercity.org, gothamist.com, and forgotten-ny.com.

One of the most intriguing to me is the ship graveyard in the Rossville section of Staten Island. The area is largely abandoned and sits quietly, secretly, and out of plain view behind a long strip of corrugated metal fence on Arthur Kill Road. From the New York Times in 1990:

As with the fabled elephants’ graveyard, ships go to die at Rossville on Staten Island.
For decades the Witte Marine Equipment Company, the lone remaining commercial marine-salvage yard in the city, has given mothballed, scuttled, abandoned and wrecked ships of all sizes a final port. Through the years it has become, an “accidental marine museum,” as a nautical magazine described it, with one of the world’s largest collections of historic ships.

After hearing about this place for the first time, I viewed numerous photo galleries online of those who had visited and documented the adventure. The images of decaying ships with weathering wood and rusting metal were beautifully striking and haunting. I immediately made a trip to the area. However, an impenetrable fence, a barking dog, stories of a mean man, and no obvious coastal access kept me from exploring.

On a recent visit to this area of Staten Island, I noted a patch of yard where some ships were visible – a teaser to the real shipyard. I respected the no trespassing sign and took a handful of photos from the roadside. My good behavior was rewarded – the owner of the property introduced himself as Tony and welcomed me to access his private property if I wanted to take photos of the famed tugboat/ship graveyard. He said many photographers had come before me, even that very day, and he was always happy to accommodate those who respected his property in advance. I was elated at the opportunity and told him that I would return soon when I had more time to make a full excursion. He pointed out his home nearby and told me to just knock. I have done my research as to where and how and examined maps and aerial views. Soon, courtesy of Tony, I will go back to explore for the first time and bring you those images here. And that’s No False Promise

Posted on May 2, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments2

This entry was posted in Curiosities of NYC, NYC's History, Secret NYC. Bookmark the permalink.
Crazy Kid

Posted on April 29, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comment1

I was persuaded, by my readings in my youth when a vegetarian, that goat’s milk was far superior to cow’s milk. That it was more digestible and better utilized by the human body. That its mineral composition was more compatible with human needs. And goats were certainly cuter than cows, so in a short time, I became fixated on all things goat. I sought out every variant of goat’s milk products. Perhaps the pinnacle of goat dairy products is French goat cheese, which I love to this day. This was quite apropos, being of French ancestry, and a friend had said that she envisioned me in retirement in France, raising goats and making cheese. The proposition did sound rather idyllic.

But alas, I was to learn that our hooved friends, although cute and often characterized in charming ways such as “crazy,” were not as innocent and benign as I had imagined. I once expressed my fondness for goats to an old college roommate and lifelong friend who had relocated to San Francisco. He was a nature lover – hiking, fishing, camping, canoeing, etc. – and much more savvy as to the real nature of barnyard animals. He had friends who had goats, and he suggested that I might want to reassess any dreams of goat ownership. Goats, he said, were VERY troublesome creatures to keep. They are intelligent, resourceful, and difficult to confine. They are quite destructive – there are many online video where goats can be seen standing on hind legs, stripping trees of leaves. If left unchecked, goats will strip trees of bark too, killing them.

Nonetheless, I still have a fondness for our feisty, four-legged friends, and perhaps even believing that in some ways, I am little bit goat-like myself. I always take the opportunity to pet goats when possible and seek them out in farms and zoos. So, recently, while traveling through the hinterlands of Staten Island, at 2355 Arthur Kill Road, I was very excited to see Crazy Goat Feeds. I was to learn, however, that the business is not a mecca for goat feeds, although it is a feed store. From Staten Island Live:

Over the last six years, an old volunteer firehouse in Rossville has become a magnet for Staten Island’s animal lovers. Crazy Goat Feeds – which looks as wild from the outside as its name would imply – is the borough’s lone remaining feed store and a one-stop-shop for local pet owners. With tin ceilings and wooden floors the building maintains its antiquated charm, but inside the gutted garage and upstairs loft, every amenity for four-legged friends is on display.

“We’ve got a little bit of everything here,” said owner Debbie Accurso, who took over the former CG Feeds in 1995 when it was based in Charleston. “But we really focus on organic and holistic foods for pets. It’s not the type of stuff that you see in the supermarket.”

Patronization from organizations like the Staten Island Zoo and the NYPD mounted police unit has allowed Crazy Goat Feeds – which was renamed by Ms. Accurso’s young nieces – to maintain a unique inventory that covers dogs, cats, rabbits, birds, fish and even horses.

The business arrangement with the Zoo is a long standing one. It’s been in place for years and carried over after the purchase of the shop from former owner Clark Gabel, who founded it in the 1960s. The horse-riding police have been a recent addition to the customer list.

I was a bit disappointed that Crazy Goat Feeds was not really a business built around goats, because deep down inside me, there’s a Crazy Kid

Posted on April 29, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comment1

This entry was posted in Animals, Stores. Bookmark the permalink.
Homeowners Too

Posted on April 24, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments3

The big city, particularly New York City, conjures up images of shysters, swindlers, scammers, and hucksters. Growing up in New England, there was a particular aversion to New York, as opposed to let’s say, the more genteel society of Boston. New York was seen as a place defined by glamour, glitz, and money – like Las Vegas, but with more style, character, and culture.

A visit to New York City came with forewarnings from family and friends. Watch this and watch that, they said. Don’t do this and don’t go there. Be careful. In the 1970s, such admonitions were certainly prudent, however, being young and brazen, I heeded none of it, and luckily, I was never a victim of anything very serious.

There is truth to all of this. A big city where tourism is strong means lots of naive, innocent prey and a nice thick jungle for hunters to get lost in after scalping their victims.

Hurricane Sandy unleashed another storm in its aftermath – a flurry of flim-flam men. And a disaster of this magnitude is a big magnet for thieves – victims of the storm now had to contend with crooks not only from New York, but from out of town as well. Of course, opportunists in the wake of a disaster are nothing new. The day after 9-11, vendors were selling T-shirts in Chinatown: I Survived 9-11. Others were selling memorabilia at Ground Zero. Heinous and unconscionable. Fortunately, our mayor at the time was no-nonsense Rudy Giuliani, who decreed in seconds that such offenses would be SQUASHED immediately.

As regular readers of this website know, I have been closely involved with cleanup and rehab of a friend’s home in Staten Island. One of the most crucial steps in the aftermath of a flooded home is mold remediation and abatement. To be done properly, this is a long and technical process, best left to professionals. The home must be dried, using commercial dryers. There are chemical treatments and HEPA vacuuming. Mold left in walls can come back with a vengance. Many homeowners hasty to rebuild after Hurricane Sandy found themselves ripping newly installed walls open, only to find mold which required proper cleanup and additional construction.

But where to find someone reputable and honest in the sea of offerings in Sandy’s aftermath? I spoke to numerous established local businesses specializing in mold remediation. I also turned to Craigslist, where we found our final choice. In retrospect, Craigslist was perhaps not the wisest source for such a serious project, however, good fortune was with us, and we found one of the most thorough and scrupulous individuals I have ever worked with – Art Hull.

Art, like many who worked for victims of the storm, was from out of town – in this case, Ohio. Art was extremely knowledgeable and technical – more so than the many other local contractors we interviewed. He had previously worked in the Biotech industry in California and was well versed in mold and microbes. But what set him apart from the typical New Yorker was his level of service and honesty. He always went the extra mile and then some. He and his assistant spent over 3 weeks in a small home, never rushing the process or a procedure. Phone calls, of which there were many, were typically 30 minutes long, with every detail thoroughly gone over. He gave many extras – checking the roof, checking the attic, replacing the subfloor, checking this and checking that, often traveling and shopping for things needed that were not part of our contractual agreement. To this day, I still call Art in Ohio for advice on various aspects of the home rehab project.

All told, it was clear from the start that Art was not a native New Yorker. He started the job with a small deposit, willing to wait for an insurance settlement – in our case, he was only paid 4 months after his work was completed. Sadly, many of his other clients became greedy after insurance settlements and have contested his charges for work completed as per contract. Poor Art, now back in Ohio, has had to resort to expensive NYC legal counsel and is still attempting to collect his fees for many large jobs completed some time ago. I was very disappointed to find that the spirit of the swindler was alive and well, not just on the streets of the city, but like Sandy’s sewage, had permeated the walls of Homeowners Too

Posted on April 24, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments3

This entry was posted in Homes and 'Hoods, People, Slings and Arrows of NYC. Bookmark the permalink.
Little Venice

Posted on April 19, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments2

I just finished watching an episode of Barging Through France in the Ardeche, one of the wildest and most untouched regions of France. Here, villages with thatched roofs can still be found in a land that time forgot.
The program was reminiscent of a series I watched in the 1990s about barging through Europe. Each episode offered a dreamy, kaleidoscopic view of the remote reaches of Europe via its canals. The host and crew traveled by barge and lived in its quarters throughout the journey, making stops wherever and whenever whim and fancy inclined them to do so.
The imagery and music all conspired to give a romantic view of the idyllic countryside and small villages of Europe. Inspired, I did take one barge cruise through Paris and the outskirts. It was not an exploration of remote hinterlands, but, nonetheless, it was a barge, a canal, and Paris. I was accompanied that morning with a group of school children singing songs in French.
In the United States, however, canal typically connotes an image of a waterway and utility. In New York City, the word canal is synonymous with pollution. Perhaps the best example is the Gowanus Canal, once known as Lavender Lake for its technicolor surface. I had been through the area a few times (see here), but recently, I decided to explore the neighborhood of Gowanus, Brooklyn, more thoroughly. I did like the very low rise feel of the area, although the architecture left much to be desired, reminiscent of the South Bronx.

As I crossed the bridge, I recognized the industrial building complex that housed the space that sponsored a fire performance I attended. For that evening, in a bizarre and unusual transformation, the metal working facility became the Gowanus Ballroom.

As I approached the end of the short block, I was welcomed by a wrecked tractor trailer, folded in half and now being used as a canvas for graffiti.

At the very end of street was an upright rowboat. A banner proclaimed:

Welcome to the Gowanus Canal

Brooklyn’s Coolest Superfund Site.

It was not immediately obvious that the entire area was a boat launch for the Gowanus. However, a poster mounted inside the boat, Canoeing & Superfund Tourism Map, indicated that, indeed, the Gowanus was a Superfund cleanup site (designated by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency) and this was the 2nd Street Canoe Dock. The map brimmed with enthusiasm and outlined 18 sites for the canoeist to explore.
Looming in the distance across the canal was an enigmatic deserted building. Later, after my visit, I learned that this was the infamous “Bat Cave”, a story in itself.

While exploring 4th Street, I passed a tiny, charming one-story house, perhaps a lone candidate in all Gowanus that could be called adorable.

A woman was in front, tending to various chores. I assumed she was the owner and asked. She affirmed. I complemented her on her cute, tidy dwelling and asked, “Is this area considered Gowanus?” “Yes” she said. I offered what I had heard for some time in the media: “This area has been referred to as the future Venice of New York.” She laughed and said, “They have been saying that for a long time.” I agreed and canvassed the area one last time, wondering if and when Gowanus and its canal would live up to its promise as Little Venice…

Related: No Pane at All, Europe?, Not Under the Gowanus, Part 1

Posted on April 19, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments2

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No Pane at All

Posted on April 15, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments4

On July 29, 2009, I wrote Urban Coral Atoll about auto break-ins on the streets of New York City, with the telltale signs of shards of glass on the street. Yesterday, however, while exploring Gowanus, Brooklyn, I spotted a break-in where detective work was unnecessary. The car itself was still parked at the scene of the crime. Not one but TWO windows were completely smashed in broad daylight on a beautiful, sunny spring day.
The auto was parked in front of Statewide Fireproof Door at 131 3rd Street – a moderately busy through street, even on a Sunday. The license plates were from New Jersey. The out-of-towners had yet to return and find themselves a nice cleaning job along with a breezy ride home and a repair job. And to learn the hard way, as every New Yorker knows, that to a thief, performing a Glass Act is No Pane at All

Posted on April 15, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments4

This entry was posted in Slings and Arrows of NYC, War Against Wheels. Bookmark the permalink.
Only One Stop from Manhattan

Posted on April 12, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments3

Perusing my archives, I came across this series of images, unused for this website. All were taken in DUMBO in 2006, the inaugural year for New York Daily Photo. The photo series illustrates the dramatic scenery in this Brooklyn neighborhood and what draws people there. The Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges, East River and Manhattan vistas, a rocky beach, superb post-industrial architecture, and cobbled streets, all packaged in a sequestered corner of New York City, yet so conveniently located by public transportation. With so many pluses, it’s so easy to sell. You can hear the broker’s pitch now, flaunting his trump card – and it’s only One Stop from Manhattan…

Posted on April 12, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments3

This entry was posted in Homes and 'Hoods, Scenic NYC. Bookmark the permalink.
Island Nation

Posted on April 9, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comment

Recently, while in Queens, I took a quick spin around Roosevelt Island. It had been years since my last visit, and the lure of an island is irresistible to me. Most of the city’s other smaller islands are inaccessible to the public. Roosevelt Island is located in the East River under the 59th Street (Queensboro) Bridge. However, the island is not accessible from the bridge directly. From Manhattan, the island can be accessed by the Roosevelt Island Tramway or, since 1989, the F train subway. Getting there by motor vehicle will necessitate a trip to Queens and then the short lift bridge, Roosevelt Island Bridge, which connects Astoria, Queens, to the island.

Traffic is permitted on the island, however, auto traffic was not part of the island’s planning, and a number of the island’s primary sights, such as the lighthouse and the smallpox hospital, are accessible only by foot, bicycle, or public bus. The big draw here for the visitor are the spectacular vistas from around the island – Manhattan, the river, bridges, the tram, Big Allis, Queens, U Thant Island. On the island, there is the historic Blackwell House (1796), the Octagon (once the main entrance to the New York City Lunatic Asylum), the Blackwell Island Lighthouse, the Chapel of the Good Shepard, and the amazing, enigmatic ruins of the Smallpox Hospital.

I always loved islands. At one time, I dreamed of visiting the South Pacific, perhaps living on a remote, idyllic tropical isle like Fatu Hiva. But New York City is the archipelago I have chosen, a world unto itself and virtually an Island Nation

Related: Manhattan Island

Posted on April 9, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comment

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Fudge Time

Posted on April 4, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments3

It was some years ago when an employee came into my office with very bad news. Our shop vac appeared seriously damaged and was no longer working. When I asked about the nature of the damage, I was told that there appeared to be a problem with the wire connection near the plug. This was laughable, and I responded that I would just pick up a new plug for a couple dollars and rewire it. To which my employee was so impressed, he commented, “Wow, I have to see that.” I asked where he had grown up – the suburbs of Miami. I joked how he was a sad man, that he would be stupefied with such a simple repair. He watched, fascinated, as I replaced the plug in just a few minutes’ time.

The whole affair was indicative of how many Americans are estranged from even the most basic repairs. With such a strong emphasis on white-collar work and getting a college education (both laudable goals) and such a lack of dignity for blue-collar work, fewer and fewer people use their hands. My high school was very well equipped in the industrial arts, but, being tracked for college, I never set foot in the school’s tech wing. A disappointment to me now – I would have enjoyed a few classes in machining.

The situation in New York City is much worse. Without space for storage of tools and workspace to use them, most urbanites have limited ability to do their own repairs. Most handiwork in apartment buildings is done by superintendents who wear many hats and do repairs in a variety of trades, none of which they are qualified to do. Most of the work ranges from mediocre to horrific. This is sad to me for so many reasons. There is a real shortage of labor doing quality work and great difficulty in finding someone to do small jobs. On the flip side, there are pluses to the do-it-yourself approach – a cost savings and satisfaction of working with your own hands.

At one time, I ran into a number of fudge shops in shopping malls that made fudge on the premises. The process of pouring, cooling, cutting, and serving was such a big attraction to shoppers that the shops turned the making into theater. Just before pouring, employees would run through the mall ringing a bell and announcing, “Fudge time!” Shoppers would run and flock, much like sheep, to witness the remarkable event – someone pouring hot fudge into a tray. They remained entranced, as if witnessing the height of artisanship.

Certainly there is value in seeing quality demonstrations of skilled craft, and there seems to be no dearth of fascination with the watching of things made. However, the audiences are often undiscriminating, watching virtually anything, regardless of how unskilled or inane. People will stand fixated as if watching the miraculous.

On the streets of New York City, you will from time to time find individuals spray painting works using objects as stencils and tools. I have waited some years to photograph one for this website. On Easter Sunday, returning from the parade, I had the good fortune to run across the spray paint artist in today’s photo. He was surrounded by a flock of tourists, admiring his command of schlock art. Watching, I could almost hear a bell and the cry of “Fudge Time”

Posted on April 4, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments3

This entry was posted in Art and Sculpture, Curiosities of NYC, Tourist Attractions. Bookmark the permalink.
Easter Parade 2013

Posted on April 2, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comment1

See my complete photo gallery here for the 2013 annual Easter Parade.

See my other Easter stories and photo galleries:

Easter Parade 2006
Easter Parade 2007
Easter Parade 2008
Easter Parade 2009
Easter Parade 2012

Posted on April 2, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comment1

This entry was posted in Extreme NYC, fashion, Festivals Parades and Events, Holidays, Tourist Attractions. Bookmark the permalink.
Dick and Ferris

Posted on March 28, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments2

Are you ever bored? I can guarantee that a night out with Dick and Ferris in New York City would never be boring. Unfortunately, I can not arrange it, but I can give you a taste.

I was an NYU student, and I, along with classmates, was becoming acquainted with the city with a friend, Dick, as a guide. He was a native New Yorker and an interloper at NYU – 25 years old and not a student. To us, he was much wiser and older. He had been a child actor. He knew everything about the world, or at least the world that was New York City. And to us, at 19 years old and a recent transplant, what other world was there? He showed us everything, particularly the underbelly of the city. His word was gospel.

Dick was wild, untamed, and a chain smoker. He was excessive. Like Thoreau, he wanted to live life to the fullest, suck the marrow out of it, and drive it into a corner. An outing with Dick was akin to one with Hunter S. Thompson.
Ferris Butler, on the other hand, was a bit askew. He was a friend of Dick’s, also an outsider and NYC native. He was decidedly a character, one that anyone who met him would not forget. Together, Dick and Ferris were a formidable pair.
Dick drove a taxi, which he saw fit to use for his own personal joy rides. However, his indulgence posed a problem – how do you party all night and also clock enough money to bring the taxi back to your employer with an acceptable amount of revenue?

One night, circa 1971, a number of us were in Dick’s cab, including Ferris. It was nearly 4AM, and the taxi was due back at the garage shortly. It was a very desperate situation. Dick had done no business at all and needed to bring the taxi back with at least $40 in fares to avoid being fired. He had the only solution – he would speed through the city streets as fast as possible with the meter running, clock $40, and pay out of pocket. However, as typical, he had no money. Ferris was the only rider with any money – he did not want to pay, but Dick extorted the money from him.

The ride felt like the car chase scene in the French Connection. The only thing I remember clearly was one leg of the journey where Dick turned onto the 59th Street Bridge outer lane. It was hair-raising as we careened across the bridge with Ferris in the front passenger seat screaming and begging for Dick to slow down, but to no avail. Time was really money now. We achieved our mission – by 4AM, the meter had been run up to $40 and all was well. A memorable night. This was to be one of many adventures in New York City with Dick and Ferris

Note: Watch my video as I drive the same outer roadway of the 59th Street Bridge that I did that night.

Posted on March 28, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments2

This entry was posted in New York at Night, People, Videos, War Against Wheels. Bookmark the permalink.
Mashed Yeast

Posted on March 21, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments9

You want some sprouts, man? It was the 1970s in Washington Square Park, and a friend, rather than trade in drugs, was offering free raw alfalfa sprouts from a clear plastic bag. Sprouts were huge in New York City, as was raw foodism and other innumerable variants on extreme dietary regimes.

Natural foods or vegetarianism had not yet gone mainstream. Even in New York, there were no Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods, or Jamba Juice, or anything like them. It was infinitely better than the burbs, however, one still had to search to find those few establishments catering to vegetarians – places like the Cauldron or Angelica Kitchen.

The problem with vegetarian or natural foods restaurants, historically and even to this day, is that the cuisine is guided primarily by what is NOT, rather than a celebration of flavor. Of course all restaurants strive to make things tasty, however, whereas in French cooking, regardless of any health consideration, if it tastes good it’s going IN, in the natural foods or vegetarian community, if it is tastes great but is verboten dietarily, it’s staying OUT. And then there are things eaten irrespective of taste because of their purported health benefits, like brewer’s yeast. At the time, the phrase health foods was used more than the currently prevalent natural foods. The prevailing thinking at the time is best illustrated by an experience I had:

I used to frequent a health food store on 8th Street in Greenwich Village. I knew the owner, Gene, well and found myself many days visiting the shop, lingering and socializing. One day, I pointed out a health bar to Gene that was particularly dreadful – it was made with raw grains and had a distinctive taste of raw dough and was bitter. Having never tried that particular bar, the owner grabbed one, tore the wrapper open and took one bite. He immediately spit it onto the floor and through out the rest. He agreed it was disgusting and inedible. I asked if these actually sold. He said yes, quite well. More importantly, I asked if any were ever purchased more than once by the same customer. He said yes. Incredulous, I asked why. He answered because they thought it was healthy.

Although certainly today’s natural foods strive for a much higher standard, nonetheless the industry is still largely guided by restriction. It is this that leads someone like Anthony Bourdain to make his notoriously caustic remark about vegetarians.

All this said, I was a vegetarian for decades and still am health conscious in my eating habits. Recently, I decided to revisit and introduce to my girlfriend the legendary Angelica Kitchen, a place I had not been to in 30 years. I had no idea what to expect – my memory of the place was old-school grubby decor and strict dietary guidelines.

I was surprised walking in that it was now quite upscale in decor. The place was packed with a cue for a table. Certainly things had changed, and already I had a story idea and title – Vegetarianism Grows Up. I was very optimistic and full expected that Angelica’s would be added to the “list” and would be part of my regular restaurant rotation. I remembered their famed “Dragon Bowl” and ordered that, along with soup and their bread and miso-tahini spread. My girlfriend ordered a dinner salad.

The food arrived. As we ate, things became progressively more and more disappointing. The bread brought back memories – it was the same, leaden and tiresome even with the miso-tahini spread. The soup was extremely bland. My girlfriend’s salad entree was appetizer-size and plain. Cold drinks were described as chilled – ice is taboo and not available. Nonetheless, most online reviews for Angelica Kitchen are excellent.

There is a great scene in the film Annie Hall with Woody Allen that echoes my sentiments and ties my life experience in health foods together nicely. In the film, Woody visits Annie in LA. They meet in a health food restaurant. Looking at the menu, Woody orders a cliched meal: I’m gonna have the alfalfa sprouts and a plate of the Mashed Yeast.

Related Posts: Whole Earth Bakery, Vegan Chic

Posted on March 21, 2013 by Brian Dubé Comments9

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