The Former Maxwell's Plum

The newly opened Falk Surgical Supplies.

Falk Surgical on 64th and 1st.

The flamboyant interior of Maxwell's Plum in its heyday.

TGI Friday's circa 1970.

Baker Street today.

A close-up of the new sign.

Recently a store called Falk Surgical Supplies opened up on the southwest corner of 64th and 1st in a building that was sitting empty for what seemed like a couple of years.  From 1966-88, that building was Maxwell's Plum, a flashily decorated bar and restaurant which followed T.G.I. Friday's one block south, opened the previous year, as the first-ever singles bars, where young, single twenty-somethings can meet and mingle.  Before these places opened up, bars were strickly old-man hangouts.  Places like P.J. Clarke's and McSorley's were not for schmoozing.  Opening up a place for young people to socialize was a new concept in the '60s, which is hard to believe because now there's a singles bar on practically every block in the city.

Mervin LeRoy, the owner of Maxwell's, also opened up the world-famous Tavern on the Green in Central Park, which closed just recently, and TGI Friday's founder Alan Stillman later opened Smith & Wolenski's Steakhouse on 49th and 3rd.  Stillman didn't know anyone named Smith or Wolenski, instead he got the names out of a phonebook.  LeRoy faired well in the city for decades, boasting such regulars as Cary Grant, Barbara Streisand and Warren Beatty, but didn't have much luck in other cities.  A second Maxwell's Plum opened in San Francisco in 1981 at a cost of $7 million but soon closed.  His Potomac Restaurant in Washington, DC, the largest in the city's history, opened at a cost of $9 million but closed shortly thereafter.  As much as LeRoy tried, he was never able to duplicate the popularity and glamour that his bar/restaurant on 64th and 1st enjoyed throughout the '60s and '70s.  The restaurant's ultimate demise came in the '80s, when its food-to-value ratio deteriorated.  An average dinner, once around $10 had shot up to around $40-$50.  As newer fashionable singles' spots were shooting up all over the city, snatching up many of LeRoy's customers, the restaurant struggled to regain its food image.  In the process the menu veered all over, from continental, French, Californian, and American, to a confusing blend of all of these.   The iconic bar/restaurant, once a niche in and of itself, was long past its prime in July 1988 and abruptly closed.

TGI Friday's, on the other hand, moved out to bigger, better quarters in 1989, and now has locations all over the world (although it is known as a family-themed restaurant now rather than a singles bar).  The original Friday's on the corner of 63rd and 1st is now another pub/restaurant called Baker Street, which still boasts itself as the place where Tom Cruise trained to become a bartender in the 1988 movie Cocktail.  Baker Street has maintained much of the basic layout of the original Friday's and some of the Tiffany windows are still on display.  The Maxwell's Plum building, however, is now completely unrecognizable as Falk Surgical Supplies.  Left behind are the ghosts of a block on the Upper East Side that introduced the singles' scene to New York City.  Since the days of 63rd to 64th Streets on 1st Avenue in the 1960s, the entire city has taken a novel idea and run with it.

Open House New York 2011

St. Paul's Chapel circa 1905 (the pews have since been removed).

The hotel in 1932 (note the massive gas tank in the back).

The pulpit of St. Paul's Chapel.

The gazebo in the back of the Mount Vernon Hotel.

The front yard of the Mount Vernon Hotel.

The back of the hotel.

Another shot of the back garden of the Mount Vernon Hotel.

A bench and gazebo in the back garden of the hotel.

Another sitting area in the back of the hotel.

The 1909 Queensboro Bridge towers over the front yard of the hotel.

The sign out front of the hotel.

The front of the hotel.

A small bridge leading from the second floor to a neighboring garden next to the hotel.

A fireman's coat from 9/11 on display in St. Paul's Chapel.

An 1785 painting of the Governor's seal above his box in the chapel.

Chairs in the Governor's box in the chapel.

Looking up the main isle of the chapel.

One of the first paintings of the Presidential seal, hanging over his box in the chapel.

President Washington's chair in the chapel.

A painting of St. Paul's in 1799.

The Mount Vernon Hotel today.

One of the sitting rooms in the hotel.

The hotel in 1924, its last year as Con Ed's headquarters (note the large gas tank in back).

An aerial view of the hotel from the '40s.

The Mount Vernon Hotel Museum and Garden.

St. Paul's Chapel circa 1895.

St. Paul's graveyard in the early '70s with the Twin Towers being built across the street.

This past weekend was Open House New York in the big city, the annual event where buildings of note open up their doors to the public free of charge.  This year, I took a look around the Mount Vernon Hotel Museum and Garden, at 421 East 61st Street between 1st and York Avenues.  Built in 1799, it was originally a carriage house for the summer mansion of Col. William Stephens Smith and his wife Abigail Adams Smith, the daughter of our second President John Adams.  The mansion was located where the Bed, Bath & Beyond is now on 1st Avenue between 60th and 61st.  The mansion burned to the ground before the couple even got to use it once, and in 1826 the abandoned carriage house was converted into the Mount Vernon Hotel, a "day hotel" for the well-to-do who wanted to get away from the city, which back then ended at 14th Street.  The museum guide explained that a "day hotel" in those days was about equivalent to a modern-day country club.  The rich would travel up there during the day for recreation, but not sleep there.  The house actually only had one small bedroom.  The hotel was named for the home of George Washington in Virginia.  The first President remained a popular cult figure decades after his death, and it was very common to see his portrait in hotels, taverns, and other public places.

If you get a chance to visit, I highly recommend it.  Walking up the stone steps and on the the wrap-around lawn to the front door is like suddenly walking into the country, I found it to be a very strange feeling.  The front entrance brought me to the dining room, where a dinner scene from around the 1820s could be found.  Turtle soup is being served, with the shell being re-used as main bowl.  The door to the left leads to the kitchen, and to the right is a living room with reproductions of old newspapers that listed the wages for different jobs.  Unskilled laborers made about $2.50 a month.  In total there are eight rooms decorated in an 1820s-style with furniture donated throughout the years.  Unfortunately, no one is allowed to take pictures inside, so you'll have to see it for yourself!

On a very interesting note, I learned that after being a private home for a number of years in the late 1800s, the house was bought by the Standard Gas Light Company (today's Con Edison) in 1905 when the area was becoming more industrialized.  It remained Con Ed's main headquarters until 1924 when it was purchased by the Colonial Dames of America and turned into a museum by 1939.  I saw a number of pictures from the '20s and '30s of the house surrounded by massive gas tanks.  Out of gratitude for Con Ed almost completely keeping the house unchanged, all its employees are given free admission to this day.

Since I was on a colonial "high" if you will, I decided to go down to St. Paul's Chapel on Broadway and Fulton Street, one of the oldest buildings in Manhattan, where Washington led a procession to a thanksgiving service here from the old Federal Hall on his inauguration day.  The chapel still has a lot of displays devoted to 9/11 and the rescue efforts it took part in.  The governor's box on the south side, a sign notes, was used for supplies, while the President's box, directly across, was used as a podiatrist's station.  Since many of Washington's men went without proper footwear during the Revolution, the chapel considered it a touching tribute.  Above it is one of the oldest paintings of the presidential seal, dating back to 1785, which was probably hanging there during Washington's presidency.  Noting that the bird is solid black, a sign read that Benjamin Franklin probably had a lot of influence on the seal's design since he was a leading advocate for making the wild turkey, rather than the bald eagle, the national animal.

When I had come down that afternoon, choir practice was in full swing, so I decided I shouldn't bother them.  I took a look around the old graveyard and then headed back uptown.  For anyone living in the city, I highly recommend taking advantage of Open House New York each October as an opportunity to learn about some of its most fascinating buildings free of charge.

The Old Neighborhood

My building on 65th and 1st, built in 1898.

St. John Nepumocene Church in 1927, two years after it was built.

St. Catherine's Park in 1902, before it was finished.

The schoolyard of P.S. 183 on East 67th Street between 1st and York.

Side doors of the school are labeled "BOYS" and "GIRLS".

The front door of P.S. 183 on 66th between 1st and York.

St. Catherine of Sienna Church on 68th between 1st and York.

The Dominican Friars were celebrating St. Domonic's Day.

The cornerstone shows St. Catherine's was  built in 1930.

Another shot of the schoolyard of P.S. 183.

The new high-rise that went up next to St. John's just a couple of years ago.

St. John Nepumucene Church on 66th and 1st today.

The sign for Peppermint Park still remains at the door of what is now a Dunkin' Donuts.

St. Catherine's Park on 67th and 1st.

You know how when you're in high school and you go back to your elementary school and it looks like the hallway has shrunk? Everything is much smaller than you remember. The walls are closer together and the water fountains are at your knees. Well, when I moved back into the apartment that I had moved out of when I was a kid a few years back, that's the way I felt about the whole neighborhood. Places that were actually only a block away, I remembered as being about five blocks away.

The church where I was baptized and had my first communion, St. John Nepumucene, or St. John Nepumuk, is on the corner of 1st Avenue and East 66th Street. Founded by Slovakian immigrants, it is served by two Hungarian priests, one old and one young, has a Hungarian flag at the altar and has mass in Slovak every Sunday. When the first big influx of immigrants from Slovakia arrived in the city, there was a big call to form a parish of their own where they could speak their own language. They started meeting at St. Brigid's on 8th Street and Avenue B, and organized their first parish on East 4th Street. The current church was finished in 1925, and it really is a beauty. It's often open during the day and I like to go in an admire the intricately designed stained glass, statues and grotto in the front. Further down the street is P.S. 183, my old school, and around the block is the schoolyard where I spent many an hour. The layout, and the farmers market they have on Saturdays, has remained pretty much unchanged since the eighties.

On 68th between 1st and York is another Catholic church, St. Catherine of Siena, built in 1930. This parish was formed in 1897 mainly for the Irish community, and the current church, run by the Dominican friars, is actually quite massive, with a number of shrines lining the walls. Up the street on 1st Avenue is the park also named for the saint where I spent a great deal of my early childhood. Back then we all called it the "local park", and for years I thought this was it's official name, but as it turns out, it too was named for St. Catherine. When the land was purchased in 1902, the park's design was based on Santa Maria sopra Minerva in Rome, built in 1280, where St. Catherine is buried. The flagpole in the center of the park represents the altar, the play areas on either side are the pews, and the paving pattern of the park resembles that of the floor of the church in Rome.

I found this out from reading a history of St. Catherine's Park I found online, but I think they only describe the original plan. The park has been remodeled at least twice since I moved upstate to Nyack. The plan of my childhood was so full of jagged corners, steep falls and high walls that my father used to joke that whoever designed this park obviously didn't have any kids.

When the park was redone shortly before we moved in 1989, it was widened in the center so that police cars could drive through, in an effort to crack down on the drug dealers that were starting to take the place over. But who wants to take their children to a park that is being patrolled by cops non-stop? Now, with crime drastically decreased in the city, the design is at its most practical, with a playground and swings in the center inhabited by little kids and there parents, flanked by an area with benches inhabited by old ladies and me, and the ball court that hasn't changed much at all.

New York City bloggers are always bemoaning the rapid disappearance of small business in place of large chains, and the old neighborhood has seen it's share of that. A bank in my building used to be a suede store, a dry cleaners was a souvenir shop, and the neighborhood ice cream shop on 66th Street, Peppermint Park, is now a Dunkin' Donuts, but at least the old sign still remains. Not to mention, a giant high rise went up right next to St. John's about two years ago. Despite all this, Goldberger's Pharmacy, also on the ground floor of my building, has remained in place since 1898. Even with a Duane Reade on practically every block, it refuses to budge.

Goldberger's and Wise Pharmacy on 79th and York must have very low rent which allows them to defy the odds and stay in business. They probably have been around since my building and a similar one on 79th and York went up in the 1890s. Built with the vision of providing comfortable living for the working class, the apartments included such luxuries as their own bathrooms, a far cry from the tenements of downtown. Now these buildings are City Landmarks.

All in all, I'm glad to be back in the old neighborhood, and if I can ever catch a break in the midst of this recession, I hope to be here for many years to come.

The Highlight of the Weekend

Archbishop Dolan saying goodbye before heading back uptown.

The Archbishop greeting the faithful.

Archbishop Dolan greeting the faithful.

Well, there's nothing good on TV, so I really ought to stop procrastinating and do another blog entry because I'm a blogger now, and no matter how strange it feels at first, I'm going to get into the habit of bothering people with my two cents on everything if it's the last thing I do. On Saturday, I decided to take a walk downtown, along First and Second Avenues, looking into the bars along the way to see how the action was inside. All bars were packed on Saturday for the much-hyped about USA - England game, a big start to World Cup fever.
By the time I made it down to 14th Street, I started heading toward Avenue A, and I came across Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, a church I had stopped inside a few times before ... it's open most of the time. These Episcopal Churches in the the city used to all have satellite chapels. St. Paul's on Broadway and Fulton Street, across the street from Ground Zero, was and still is a satellite chapel to Trinity Church on Broadway and Wall Street. St. Sava's Serbian Orthodox Cathedral on Twenty-Sixth Street between Broadway and Sixth Avenue was another chapel for Trinity for the growing community uptown. St. Nicholas of Myra Russian Orthodox Church on Tenth Street and Avenue A was a satellite Chapel to St. Mark's-in-the-Bowery on Tenth Street and Second Avenue. And this church, purchased by the Catholics in 1943, was a chapel and conjoined hospital for Grace Church on Broadway and Tenth Street. According to the New York Songlines website, it was unusual when it was built in 1896 because it didn't charge pew rent, a common practice among the rich Protestant families at the time so that they could preserve their spot for services. A plaque on the outside of the church states that the chapel was actually built specifically for the poorer of the neighborhood.
Anyway, I walked in and saw an important mass going on to a full house. The pews were all filled, and I, being rather late, stood in the back with some families with small kids and the Knights of Columbus, dressed in their full garb. Archbishop Dolan was at the altar giving his sermon, talking about the usual stuff -- faith, community, his abundance of gratitude to the people of this parish for all their hard work, and a little of the history of Immaculate Conception Parish on their 155th anniversary. (So that's what the mass was celebrating.) He mentioned how his predecessor, Bishop Hughes, was in Rome when Pope Pius IX declared that Mary was born without original sin, and promised that when he got home to New York, the next church he consecrated would be in honor of the Immaculate Conception.
Now, I knew that this church hadn't always been Catholic, or Catholic for that long, so I was hoping I wouldn't have to correct the Archbishop after mass. I got communion from him, and when the mass ended, he led a procession down the aisle to the auditorium of the school (the former hospital). There was lots of food laid out and a big crowd. I wasn't a member of this parish, but I thought, There's plenty to eat here and I'm starving. I didn't want to walk up to the Archbishop, though, because he seemed to be surrounded by all the big-shot families of the parish, and I thought if I joined that crowd everyone would be thinking about how they never saw this guy before in their lives. The Archbishop gradually made his way around the room to different circles of people, taking pictures, giving out handshakes and hugs, as the old Hispanic and Filipino ladies bowed to him. Over and over he said things like, "It's great to be here," and "I love being with you." I shook his hand when it came my turn, and as I briefly stood next to him, I said, "Thanks for coming, Your Excellency. It's a great honor, Your Excellency". He turned to me and gave me a rather hard pat on the back and said, "Thank you." He's a great big guy, kind of burly and about six-foot-four, and I don't think he knew his own strength. Egan is a big guy, too, while O'Connor I thought was kind of small when I saw him in person. He looked bigger on TV than he did in real life. With that he continued on, and I didn't want to look like a religious nut and follow him around the room, so I never got to ask him if the Archdiocese was hiring or where the parish's original church was. I later looked on the parish's website and found that it was on Fourteenth Street east of Avenue A, and was demolished when Stuyvesant Town and Peter Cooper Village were built. Luckily the Catholic Church was able to purchase Grace Chapel and Hospital from the Episcopalians, because this church was nearly demolished as well.
The Archbishop got in an SUV driven by a priest and a cop car escorted them back to his residence uptown. He stuck his hand out and waved to the crowds as they cheered him. As people walked by, a couple asked, "Is that somebody famous or something?"
I continued on as I always like to check on the progress of St. Brigid's Church on Eighth Street and Avenue B. Right now the church is so covered in scaffolding that it's unrecognizable. I guess their really redoing it from head-to-toe. It's nice that somebody cared enough to donate $20 million dollars so that it wasn't demolished. I decide to sit in Tompkins Square Park for a while and take a load off, but after seeing one rat scurry by and being pretty sure I heard others scurrying in the bushes behind me, I decided that this park still is pretty gross and I should just get out of here.
It's amazing how much energy you have when your spirits are lifted. I got up and started to walk back to the Upper East Side.