Getting right with God in Hell’s Kitchen

A sign in the Deep South? Nah, try the West 50s in Manhattan. Who says New York is a secular town?

The other side of the sign is even better. I hope it’s not too jarring for the guests at the now-upscale Washington Jefferson Hotel across the street.

Whatever happened to three-card monte?

Times Square may have been three-card monte HQ in the 1980s and early 1990s, but con men used to set up the game all over well-traveled corners of New York City.

You’d see them put a cardboard box or crate upright on the sidewalk, shuffle three cards, and then convince a rube to place a bet. 

The dealers haven’t been in Times Square for years. Was the game outlawed by the Guiliani administration? Did tourists finally realize they can’t win? 

Three-card monte’s presence in Manhattan may have waned, but it’ll be back in full force eventually.

It’s been here since at least since the 19th century; a New York Times article from 1874 details the sad story of a three-card monte victim, a rich out-of-towner.

It’s a remarkably simple con: A mark bets that he can pick the money card out of three face-down cards. A shill usually comes along and acts like he’s on the mark’s side. But he’s not, and the house never loses.

A lone antelope at the old Bronx Zoo

I think it’s an antelope—or is it something more exotic? The back of this turn-of-the-century postcard doesn’t say.

But it does state that this hoofed and horned guy resides at the New York Zoological Park, aka the Bronx Zoo.

He must be at the Antelope House. The Popular and Official Guide to the New York Zoological Park, published in 1922 (23 years after the zoo opened) says:

“Both for visitors and for its animals, it is roomy and well lighted, and in every way fitted to house and display a large and valuable collection of tropical hoofed animals.”

The beautiful tenement of West 51st Street

“Beautiful” and “tenement” don’t generally go together; tenements were intended to be cheap housing for the masses, and for the most part, developers didn’t care much for aesthetics.

But sometimes you come across one with incredible ornamental details, like this five-story walkup in Hell’s Kitchen—the twin of a similarly detailed tenement next door.

Above and below the windows are swirls of terra cotta leaves, flowers, birds, and angels.

It’s a lush and lively facade. The developer must have wanted his building to stand out, and it does.

Who gave Maiden Lane its name?

A bit of mystery surrounds the origin of innocent-sounding Maiden Lane, one of the first streets laid out by 17th century Dutch colonists.

It may have started as a lovers’ lane.

“Tradition had it that the girls of early Dutch days were wont to stroll by the little stream along what was known first as Maagde Paatje,” says a 1911 New York Times article.

The name might also stem from the street’s rep as New Amsterdam’s clothes-washing center. “Maiden Lane was the site of a freshwater stream where young maidens did their laundry,” explains Gerard R. Wolfe’s New York: A Guide to the Metropolis.

Whether a lovers path or laundry area, Maiden Lane was for a short time home to Thomas Jefferson.

The street eventually hosted a market and then became the city’s jewelry district in the 19th century.

It’s part of the Financial District now, but the name resonates differently than, say, adjacent Gold Street.

“View of South Street, From Maiden Lane,” by William James Bennett, 1827

New York’s “gastronomic atrocities” of the 1890s

King’s Handbook of New York City, 1892, was kind of like the Zaget’s of its day. One section of this massive guide to the city’s best and worst recommends some top restaurants of the time.

Then there’s this section, “Cheap Restaurants.” It’s just a small snippet but very descriptive. 

The info about street food of the time—oysters, fish, corn—is pretty fascinating. Treat trucks, gyros, falafel, Italian Ices, even hot dogs are years away.

Freedomland: the Bronx’s 1960s theme park

Brooklyn has Coney Island. Queens had Rockaways’ Playland. And from 1960 to 1964, the northern Bronx neighborhood of Baychester had Freedomland U.S.A.

Conceived and built by a Disneyland exec, Freedomland’s theme was, well, freedom. The theme park was shaped like America and featured various attractions based on United Sates’ history.

“The Old Southwest” area offered burro rides. Civil War battles were reenacted. Visitors could hang out in the Chicago section and help put out the Chicago fire. This old video clip can give you an idea.

The idea must have sounded great, but in the end, Freedomland never made a profit. After it was razed, developers built massive Co-Op City in its place.

A sleek and streamlined 1930s city skyline

Social realist painter and printmaker Harry Gottlieb’s undated take on the New York City skyline and lady liberty. 

Romanian-born Gottlieb was a WPA and Federal Arts Project artist who usually depicted working people.

Manhole covers that have something to say

You walk and ride over them constantly—but have you ever stopped to read the inscriptions on city manhole covers? Some are pretty unique.

Like this one that reads “Croton Aqueduct DPT 1862.” It’s in Jefferson Park on First Avenue and 112th Street and refers to the engineering marvel that brought fresh water from upstate to Manhattan.

The water was stored in a massive reservoir at Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street, where the New York Public Library is today.

This next cover is a bit of a mystery. It seems to read “Sewer B of B” for borough of Brooklyn or borough of the Bronx. Except I found it in Harlem near 125th Street.

Another personalized manhole cover is in West Chelsea, marking the lovely General Theological Seminary on Tenth Avenue.

Mrs. Stahl’s delicious Brighton Beach knishes

Yonah Schimmel gets credit for inventing the humble knish in 1910 at his still-thriving knishery on East Houston Street.

But knish fiends all over New York still lament the loss of Mrs. Stahl’s Knishes, a dingy place tucked under the elevated train at Brighton Beach Avenue.

The shop served up hand-made cushions of potato, kasha, and cabbage inside flaky baked dough. They were truly legendary.

Photo at right from Jack Szwergold’s flickr page.

The real Mrs. Stahl was a local lady who sold her home-baked knishes up and down the beach in the 1930s.

In 1935 she was persuaded to open a store, which thrived through the 1980s; there was even a short-lived Upper West Side branch. But Brighton Beach changed, and cravings for cheap Jewish soul food plummeted. By 2005, it was gone.

“The first thing that hits you as you walk in—besides the crisp sea breeze coming from the ocean a block away—is the warm, oniony smell of potato filling….” stated Brooklyn Bridge magazine in a 1997 article.

“In small back rooms, huge bowls of thick, just-boiled potato filling cool down and trays of perfectly shaped, doughy knishes wait to be put in giant ovens. Their destinations are varied. Thousands are sold from the store each week, and thousands more are shipped to gourmet delicatessens across the country.”