On my recent visit to Williamsburg, Brooklyn, while circumambulating the neighborhood, a sign jumped out from the corner of my eye: Rosenwach Wood Tanks. I realized that this must be the very same manufacturer of wooden water tanks which I wrote about in a story (Tank Worship), one of only two companies in New York City that manufacture wood water tanks.

I nearly shrieked to my companion who was driving and asked him to please indulge me and circle the block so that I might be able to verify it this was the place. If so, I could perhaps go inside and do some photography.
‘Twas done in a jiffy, however, upon arrival at the Wythe Avenue entrance, something looked amiss. Charred, blackened wood was everywhere, and areas were secured with safety tape. Yes, a man confirmed that this was that company.

However, coincidentally, I had arrived only some days after a major fire. The two-alarm fire occurred on the 4th of July;  the Fire Department of New York said the cause of the fire was illegal fireworks. The gentleman in the yard said that I was welcome to return at a later date, get a tour, and do some photography. However, at that time, fire marshals were everywhere, and it was not the time for a factory tour and photo shoot.

This location, at 87 North 9th Street at Wythe Avenue, a former stable, is the wood mill for the company where the planks are prepared using equipment dating back to the 1930s. The tanks themselves are assembled at the customer location.

Rosenwach Tanks was started on the Lower East Side in 1866 by barrel maker William Dalton. In 1894, Dalton hired Polish immigrant Harris Rosenwach. The company is currently under the watch of fourth-generation business owner Andy Rosenwach.
I am looking forward to going back and touring the place when the dust clears…

To me, the street life of New York City is one of its defining characteristics and is what separates it from any other place in the world. With the growing domination of the retail sector by national and international retail chains, the character of the retail world has become decidedly less unique. Strolling down Broadway in SoHo is very much like strolling the suburban shopping mall – the only big difference is whether you want your mall shopping experience indoors or out.

Street vendors often provide a food or product which is difficult to vend profitably in a retail store. For those of us who already spend too much time indoors, browsing a street vendor’s wares is also a way to get more outdoor time. Admittedly, there is a plethora of chatchkas and tacky tourist memorabilia. Like anything else in New York, you must pick your battles and be selective – it is difficult to make any blanket characterizations of the merchandise on the streets. There is better or worse in nearly everything here – places like Canal Street are both bazaars and minefields.

One of the most worthwhile activities on the street is the sale of books. Here, too, there are some vendors of some extremely poor quality magazines and books, where a cursory examination makes it clear that the primary operative is selling merchandise.

But there is a small world of street booksellers who are extremely literate and knowledgeable about books, often more so than a bookstore staff member. These vendors are people who are not criminals, drug addicts, derelicts, or thieves. They acquire their books from estate sales, thrift shops, remainder bins, foundations, used bookstores, or trash heaps. A perusal of the titles sold by Everett Shapiro at the tables on West 4th Street (in the photo) in the heart of the NYU “campus” will tell you that the selection here is quality, one that a serious reader can take seriously.

Everett was one of the featured characters in the independent film Bookwars, which won Best Documentary at the New York Underground Film Festival in 2000. The film was made by filmmaker Jason Rosette, who was a NYU film school graduate and became a street bookseller himself. The 1999 book Sidewalk by Mitchell Duneier also examines the world of the sidewalk booksellers.

Street booksellers (and sellers of art) are protected by the free speech provision of the First Amendment of the Constitution and are allowed to sell on the streets without a license. However, in spite of this, efforts were made during the Giuliani administration as part of his Quality of Life campaign to crack down. The effort was highly contentious, and eventually the police backed off. The numbers of street booksellers has declined, but there are still those who are passionate about books, and they can still be found here and there…

Photo Note: These are the tables of Everett, located on West 4th Street in front of NYU’s Bobst Library.

There is a big surprise coming to New York City. I say surprise because many residents are unaware that phase one of the High Line project will open in a few short weeks. Even those who are aware of the project most likely do not have this foremost in their minds. The project is elevated out of view, so it proceeds without notice. The High Line is the conversion of an abandoned elevated railway to parkland. It extends from the Meat Packing District to 34th Street – a distance of 1.45 miles. I wrote about this project previously in High Line Portrait Project. It has been likened to the Promenade Plantée in Paris, built on an abandoned 19th-century railway viaduct. It promises to be a major contribution of greenspace. The figure in the photo is a ironworker who was cutting apart a warehouse abutting the High Line.

I grew up with a strong work ethic and a family cynicism surrounding most workers. My father was a wood cutter in northern Maine, a remote, sparsely populated area with severe winter weather. The state has a fiercely independent spirit with a strong element of individual self-reliance. After moving south to Connecticut, he viewed most workers whom he typically encountered with disdain. His comment about municipal workers was that you could easily spot them – one man in a hole and 10 men above standing around watching him. My own view of tradesmen is much less harsh.

There are some things in life that are rarely questioned, such as the benefits of education, the rights of a pregnant woman, and, at one time, the word of a doctor. To that I might add a man making noise. If you look busy and make enough noise, people assume that serious hard work is being done.

My take on laborers and noise became an an inside joke at my office many years ago. When anyone, hearing some ill defined racket, would ask, “What is that?”, I would respond, “Men making noise. That’s what men do.”
To those who might question my sanity, I say move aside please. A Mainiac is coming through to do some work 🙂

If you are interested in film and New York City, I would highly recommend the Hitchcock classic Rear Window, starring Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly. The film, a virtual shrine to voyeurism, takes place in a Greenwich Village apartment, where Stewart, confined to a wheelchair while recuperating from a broken leg, spies on his neighbor’s apartment and observes a series of activities which lead him to believe that a murder has been committed. The film is very engaging and we get what feels like an added bonus – plenty of time with Grace Kelly on the screen in charming repartee with Stewart. The film has been highly applauded, a winner of 4 Academy Awards and numerous other accolades.
Many feel that much of the film’s appeal is because of its voyeuristic premise. Some go further to say that part of the appeal of film itself owes to its voyeuristic nature and the inherent desire of most people to watch others secretly.

People do like people watching, and cities are perfect environments to do so. I recall my surprise at the table arrangements in Parisian cafes, where seats for two are joined side by side facing outwards, rather than each other. This made so much sense that I was immediately puzzled why this practice was (and still is) virtually nonexistent in New York City.

There’s no better place for people watching than New York, and with millions of residents, there are large numbers who have long given up concern about who’s watching what. Public Displays of Affection (PDA) and all other manner of exhibitionistic behavior abounds, and for the voyeur, this city is the Devil’s Playground.

The woman in the photo was relaxing on the third floor above Broadway in SoHo, certainly not a place where there is an expectation of privacy. Fire escapes in New York City often function as outdoor terraces, and over the years, our office has been entertained with various activities there (see Window Washer here).

The scenario is reminiscent of another film, The Time Machine (from 1960), where Rod Taylor, on the start of his many journeys in time, observes a store mannequin and its changing wardrobe. The window and mannequin become icons of stability in a world of changing fashion. In the 19 years I have faced Broadway, the buildings have stayed the same, and only the names and faces have changed. With such unabashed displays from a front window facing a major thoroughfare, there’s no need for a rear window…

One thing that can be refreshing at times about children is their brutal honesty and frequent lack of pretension. They say what they think and do what they want without regard to social norms.

On Saturday, the city hit 79 degrees, and it appeared that every able-bodied New Yorker was on the streets and in the parks. A group of street musicians was performing in Washington Square Park and had an instrument case open for contributions. A father had taken the opportunity to teach his child the ways and means of supporting the arts. His daughter made a number of trips to and from the open case to her father, who supplied her with a coin on each trip. Satisfied with her deposits, she even closed the case for protection.

Soon, however, this child quickly appeared to see the opportunity and attempted to make a major withdrawal, reopening the case and dipping in some money. Why not just take what is available? Perhaps she, like many others in today’s banking crisis, had concerns over the security of her deposits. The entire thing became a small theater piece for the entertainment of all – the music took a back seat to the performance.
Some may feel that this was just typical of a child’s behavior, not socialized and left unchecked. It can be debated, however, whether adults are any better or just more covert in their execution.

Admonitions were not adequate to dissuade her, and the father had to resort to a dragging ritual. But Dad should have realized that one could do much worse in handling money and investments (as most of us have). Perhaps he (and we) should see her actions as a very good way to handle a banking crisis 🙂

We have all heard the taunt or admonition “Get a life.” But what about those less fortunate who, because they have not been dealt a good set of cards or are at a point in life where they are down on their luck, may not have a life to get? And if one does not have the good fortune of an extended family or available friends, the world can be a lonely place.

I can tell you from having lived alone at various times that I believe being in New York City provides a lot more entertainment and distraction at those needed times. Like it or not, gossip in one form or another occupies a large part of people’s social interactions, particularly those without a life. New York City offers enormous fodder for the lonely yenta.

Two friends and I sat in a vehicle in a parking spot on Fifth Avenue, waiting for the appointed time indicated on the parking sign to set us free. We became very intrigued by the vehicle in front of us, shown in the photo, so for the duration of our captivity, we began to speculate, becoming amateur detectives. One companion was a former New York City resident, Brooklyn-born and street smart.

We observed a few things. The vehicle was a car for hire, indicated by the T&LC (Taxi and Limousine Commission) at the bottom of the license plate. The man hovering was obviously the driver waiting for his client. This was not an ordinary client for several reasons. The vehicle was a Mercedes, parked outside an extremely fancy doorman building on Fifth Avenue in one of the most prime locations in the city. Lastly, and most interesting to us, was an odd sequence of letters, FHAAHHMS, which certainly must be a vanity license plate.

Now I suppose that our indulgence in the minutiae of life is not unique to the city – the occasional interloper in a small town is often subjected to the same scrutiny and speculation by idle gossipers. However, for those without a life, what better place to be than in New York City? Walk out of your door anytime of day or night, and you enter a world that is a veritable circus, with the broadest range of humans on exhibit that you are ever likely to meet. In Spike, I wrote of a man with a unique style and whom I recently met at Astor Hair. Where else could he dress like this, strut with pride and confidence, and be treated like a celebrity? André, who I featured in Out There on August 22, 2007 and Fashion Forward on November 9, 2007, is someone whom I now frequently meet and greet on the streets of NYC. I have since learned a little more about fashionista André Johnson – he graced the cover of French Vogue in 2007.

Any thoughts about the letters on that license plate, FHAAHHMS?

Note: According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the first use of “Get a Life” was from a 1983 article in the Washington Post: “Gross me out, I mean, Valley Girls was, like, ohmigod, it was last year, fer sure! I mean, get a life! Say what?”

Posts of the Unusual: Out There, Spike, Narcissism Gone Wild, Spring Madness, Superheroes, Snake Charmer, Circus Amok