I once was expressing my interest in traveling to Singapore to a friend, born in Taiwan and knowledgable regarding Asia. It seemed to be a beautiful destination – both tropical and pristine. However, said friend said that she would never go to any country that did not have an art museum (there is at least one art museum now). This reminded me of conversations in my early days in New York City – an echo of the sentiment against the well-manicured lawn and gentrification.

Puzzling, because I have always liked a beautiful lawn, as well as bonsai, topiary, and clean and tidy places. And conversations in my youth about gentrification also left me perplexed – I would always be pondering, what is wrong with an improved neighborhood?

Appreciation and patronization of very unique businesses that could only survive where rents were low began to give me a clue as to why people would vehemently object to gentrification. But it would be many decades and the loss of some of my favorite iconic businesses, such as Vesuvio’s Bakery, before I would finally understand how the march of “progress” would typically mean the loss of not only the bad old things but also the good old things. Gentrification also means increased cost of housing, leaving neighborhoods all but unaffordable to virtually everyone except the super affluent. Soon, neighborhoods defined by ethnicity and their culture become defined by economics.

I began to see that clean and tidy in Manhattan usually came with sanitization, conformity, upscale tenants, and the closing of the small independent merchant in a niche market, unable to afford rising rents. So I have run to see the last of these best of breed. A number of the places I have written about in the last six years have already disappeared – Space Surplus Metals, Vesuvio, National Wholesale Liquidators, Ray’s Pizza, etc. Others on my to-do list have closed before I had an opportunity to visit for photos and a story, such as Grand Machinery Exchange.

A handful of special, unique businesses still survive, many of which I have written: Joe’s Dairy, Raffetto’s, Schoen Trimming and Cord, Jim Murnak, Alidoro, il Laboratorio del Gelato, Cones, Faerman Cash Register, the Music Inn, and Matt Umanov Guitars.

I try to keep a keen eye out for those which I have not written about before it is too late, some renowned in their niche, such as Henry Westpfal & Company. Westpfal is located in the garment district at 115 West 25th Street. With a decor hearkening back to the 1950s, the place typifies the best of Olde New York where content is king. They have been in business since 1874 and have been managed by Cam Weinmann for the last 50 years. It is considered one of the best places (and few remaining) in New York City where virtually anything that has a blade can be sharpened – scissors, knives, straight-edge razors, and other tools. According to Cam Weinmann, “If you can’t cut a tomato, you know your knife needs sharpening.” At Henry Westpfal, for 137 years, the secret to small business success has been a sharp focus 🙂

Service in New York City retail is a VERY uneven experience. Many single-location privately owned operations which are legendary have an attitude regarding customer service bordering on the arrogant. I have seen salesman curse customers for no good reason. And yet I have seen the same salesman as sweet as sugar. The reason? It often depends on how you approach the sales staff – your attitude, knowledge, and other factors. Retail sales can admittedly be very trying, however, a customer should not have to walk on eggshells or ingratiate or prostrate himself to assure good service. It should not be that way, but welcome to New York.

The large, high-profile retailers or chains are much less inclined to risk reputation than a mom-and-pop operation working with a captive audience in a specialty. When a store attains iconic status in New York City, arrogance may often become a component of service. The differences become strictly a case of management style.

If you read reviews of places like Warehouse Wines & Spirits at 735 Broadway, you will find a virtually inexplicably broad spectrum of reviews and customer experience, from one to five stars. Not unusual for a place like this, known for its very competitive pricing, often the lowest in town.
What brought me to Warehouse recently was a very specific mission. A friend was desirous of exploring wine, however, their previous experience with headaches made them apprehensive. The subject of red wine headaches is debated. Many naturally occurring substances have been blamed – sulfites, tannins, histamines, and prostaglandins. Rather than wade through the literature, I decided that finding a wine salesperson with real customer experience regarding wine and headaches would be a simpler, more effective solution.

As I entered Warehouse Wines, I approached and asked the first salesperson visible who might be the resident wine expert. He responded, “that would probably be me.” I told him of my mission, asking of his experience, if any, with wine headaches (sometimes referred to as red wine headaches, owing to the feeling that red wine is more problematic than whites). He made immediate suggestions and accompanied us to an area with a number of wine which, from his personal experience, were successful with his customers who previously had wine headaches. Although added sulfites have been implicated by some and dismissed by others, we chose an organic white.

I was impressed by his knowledge and asked about his wine background. He introduced himself as Dennis Johnson and told me that he had worked 22 years as cellarmaster at the Windows of the World restaurant.*

I was elated at my shopping experience at Warehouse Wine with Dennis. It is ironic that in New York City, I have become so inured to the unpredictable nature of customer service that I often feel that great service comes for No Good Reason 🙂

*Windows on the World was a restaurant on the top floor of the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

Related Posts: Trimmings for Sale, Instincts, We Don’t Do Windows, No Students After 1, Pick Two

Please Click and Play Audio Clip to Accompany Your Reading:

Around 1980, a close friend suggested that I get a computer to run my business. He explained why I should get one with not just a floppy drive but also a big hard drive. It would take removable floppy discs. “What’s a floppy disc?” I asked, and why were they floppy? A few years later, I bought my first PC – a DEC Rainbow running CP/M. Some time later, I got an IBM PC running MS-DOS.

In the early 1990s, we wanted to start doing our graphics in house. For the first project, I rented a Mac. The day the two-week rental was over and the machine needed to be returned, our graphic artist was away. I needed to get the files off the rented machine, but what to do? If this was anything like DOS, I would have to learn a new set of instructions. I had only a little time before the rental facility closed to make the two-week deadline.

I decided to try my hand – I had no choice. I inserted a disc and voilà, it APPEARED ON THE DESKTOP. I had never seen such a thing. But how to copy the file? I had an insane idea – what if I were to just drag the file I needed onto the disc icon? And that was the moment I became a BELIEVER. The file was copied, and I had ZERO knowledge of the operating system. This was my first experience with a graphical interface. I returned the rental machine, clearly a man converted.

This rental had essentially been a test before purchase. However, I found Macs to be expensive, and some friends began telling me that Windows could do anything a Mac could do and much more cheaply. So I ordered a Dell for our graphics needs. When it arrived, the Windows interface was nothing like Apple’s. Disappointed, I decided to call sales at Dell. I took  the honest approach and told the saleswoman that the machine was fine, but I really preferred a Mac interface and COULD I RETURN THIS DELL?

The sales person was exceptionally pleasant and understanding (I have over the years purchased some Dells and have recommended them for anyone wanting a Windows PC). She said she understood completely and that her daughter was a graphic artist and used Macs. A return would be no problem at all. We sent the Dell back and went out and bought a Mac. And so my long relationship with Apple began.

In 2001, I was excited to visit my first Apple Store in the Westfarms Mall in Connecticut. Subsequently, Apple opened stores in New York City, the first being just footsteps from my office in SoHo, where I and millions of others found it to be something akin to a clubhouse for happy members. Many an evening on the way home, for no particular reason, I drop in and peruse.

Since that time, I have owned nearly 20 Macs, an iPhone, an iPod, and and an iPad. I spend most of my waking hours using one Mac or another. I write these words using a Mac Mini. I have written a number of stories about Apple stores – some of my favorite photos have been of their interiors and exteriors, particularly Step Softly (top photo).
I am a little saddened to have heard about the premature death of one of America’s great visionaries: Apple CEO, Steve Jobs. I never got to meet Steve nor thank him personally for a job well done. So, I think I can speak for many of us here:

Hey, Thanks Steve 🙂

Related Posts: Top of the Glass Staircase, Pomp and Circumstance, Apple and Sherry

In the 1980s, I was introduced to a man who had worked various outdoor markets and planned to open a large magic/costume store in a prime Greenwich Village location. I found it a ludicrous concept, really, for such a limited clientele for the products in a very high-rent district of Manhattan. I was also not very impressed with this man overall. He was really quite crass, unsophisticated, and very oriented to making a buck. A huckster.

Of course, I was completely wrong, and the store was a huge success. I became one of his vendors, and since the shop was in the neighborhood where I live, I would visit occasionally, always privy to some conversation, typically tainted with vulgarity, racism or other unpleasantry. There was a wooden Indian figure on the street outside his door. On one occasion, when I visited the shop just before closing, I heard the owner say to his employee, “Bring in the f…kin’ Indian and let’s go home.” It was almost as if he had disdain for his own crass commercialism but was compelled to do distasteful things anyway.
One of my most memorable visits was listening in on the owner’s end of a phone conversation with a customer that went something like this:

“Yeah – we got shrunken heads. $19.95 and $99.95” [pause]
“The cheap one’s got fake hair the expensive one’s got real hair.”

On yet another visit, he proudly showed me his new specials brochure. “What do you think?” he asked me. “It’s like a Chinese menu – a little from column A and a little from column B.” An absurd idea to me, but at this point I deferred to him, entirely knowing that he really did have great business instincts and the Midas touch – everything he did turned to gold. The cruder the idea, the better it seemed to work.

Every day, walking through the streets of New York City, I see restaurants PACKED, often with lines to get in, day after day, while others have wait staffs standing idly gazing at empty tables. I see businesses that are roughly put together but deliver what people want at good prices and are successful – places like Pearl Paint, Canal Rubber, or Astor Place Haircutters. Some focus on the basics in their early years and then reinvent themselves in a grander, much more polished way, like B & H Photo. And yet, there are businesses started and operated by individuals with business education and acumen but fail miserably.

In Chinatown, hard work and low prices are the rule. The store in today’s photo on the Bowery has no cachet and is not well known, glamorous, or special in any way. The name, Many Goods Corp., is completely unimaginative, likely only selected as a necessity for business incorporation. Like the magic/costume shop, these proprietors have an instinct. If I had to wager on who would be the survivor between a high-end SoHo retailer versus this shop in Chinatown, I’d say Don’t Bet Against Many Goods 🙂

Related Posts: It’s Perfect, Because I’m the Best Pt. 2, Because I’m the Best Pt. 1