Slumming is a peculiar phenomenon. People work hard to improve their lives economically and socially, yet once they are established, some work just as hard to find and frequent the type of places which they endeavored so desperately to leave behind.

Or so it appears. There is a cache to slumming. The act of dumbing down ones choices for eating and playing somehow confers authenticity and coolness. But I think what is actually happening is that this type of activity is limited to areas where others of like mind and age have settled. How many actually want to live among the poor, isolated in a neighborhood with none of their peers? There are some, of course, who did move into uncharted territory, paving the way for others. I have always admired the spirit of these early pioneers.

In fact, it is debatable whether there can be any real slumming in Manhattan. Virtually every neighborhood is fully gentrified, partially gentrified, or populated by some variant of the downtown hipster. There are few neighborhoods left which are strictly the domain of the common, working-class man or woman.

In the final analysis, a person of means can never really experience the life of the poor or the common man. If nothing else, knowing that one has options and is only a tourist in a disadvantaged world makes all the difference.

I was surprised to learn that slumming dates back to the late 1800s. According to a recent fascinating New York Times article, When ‘Slumming’ Was the Thing to Do, the practice started in London and had versions in urban America, centered in Chicago and New York City.

In 1884, a headline in The New York Times proclaimed: “A fashionable London mania reaches New-York. Slumming parties to be the rage this winter.”
It was one of the early indicators of what grew to be an entertainment phenomenon that lasted decades: well-off white New Yorkers exploring black, Chinese, gay or poor working-class communities. Popular neighborhoods for this voyeuristic pastime included Chinatown, Harlem and the Lowest East Side tenements, home to the “Hebrews.”

More recently, a new industry has been built around the practice, coined “slum tourism” or “poorism.” The practice is controversial: is it tourism or voyeurism/exploitation? See an article here about the phenomenon.

Hector’s Diner is authentic. Located at 44 Little West 12th Street under the High Line, it is still patronized by workers from what remains of the local meatpacking industry. The meat packing district was truly the quintessential working-class neighborhood and one which required some intestinal fortitude to visit. Carcasses hanging on hooks, barrels of entrails, and meat refuse was the reality here. I rented storage space here at one time, and early morning visits required a little mental preparation for the visual assault. The neighborhood is now quite ultra chic, but vestiges of the original meat industry still exist, as I explored in Fresh Meat.

I have not eaten at Hector’s or been inside, but judging from the food reviews (which have been quite favorable), I expect that at the right time of day, along with the common man, you will find some others slummin’ 🙂

Related Posts: Pastis, Old Homestead, Men Making Noise, Western Beef