Radios were kind of like the iPod of the Depression. The December 19, 1934 edition of the Daily News is thick with ads for them—like this model, which features “foreign reception.”
What happened to Spear’s, an appliance store with five locations in the five boroughs?
Sounds like they were the 1930s version of Circuit City, the Wiz, Crazy Eddie, and all the other electronics stores that never seem to last very long.
In 1896, a young woman named Ashea Waba—who had adopted the stage name Little Egypt—was invited to do some belly dancing at a bachelor party held at swanky Sherry’s restaurant in Midtown.
Belly dancing had recently been introduced to America. Victorian-era audiences were shocked by the sexy stomach swiveling—so much so that the dance was given the nickname the Hootchy-Kootchy.
Normally the Hootchy-Kootchy was performed in belly-bearing skirts or pantaloons, like in the photo of Little Egypt at left.
But cops were tipped off that she would be dancing naked. The vice squad came to Sherry’s, and Little Egypt was arrested.
After a trial that made all the New York tabloids, she was cleared of violating any vice laws.
Little Egypt then launched a burlesque troupe of Hootchy-Kootchy dancers and raked in $500 a night.
She died in her West 37th Street apartment in 1908 of “gas asphyxiation.”
Some of the letters in this Gertel’s sign don’t look like they light up, yet that’s okay. Seeing the words “bakery” and “luncheon” one on top of the other in that old-time font more than makes up for it.
Luncheon: This old-school word is disappearing fast from the New York vocabulary.
Gertel’s home had been Hester Street since 1914. They relocated near Myrtle Avenue in Clinton Hill in 2008, taking the iconic sign with them.
I have no idea how long G&M Variety Discounts House has been on Broadway in Washington Heights. But judging from the shape of the sign, I’d say since the 1960s.
Charles Parsons painted these ice skaters in 1862, during the park’s infancy. Ice skating was quite a fad among middle- and upper-class New Yorkers at the time. Even the little dog on the right is getting into it.
Later this painting was made into a lithograph by Currier & Ives.
These stationery stores, with their telltale throwback lettering, used to be in every neighborhood all over the city. In need of school supplies, Hello Kitty paraphernalia, and last-minute birthday cards? The Hallmark store was your solution.
These days, their numbers are dwindling, and the stores aren’t looking so spiffy. I guess Duane Reade and Rite-Aid have begun displacing them.
Sam’s Hallmark, above, is in East Harlem.
Serena’s continues to hang in there on East 23rd Street.
Sunnyside still has one too.
Economy Candy, on Rivington Street, has such a nice old-timey sign. It’s a neat place to poke around and stock up on old-school treats as well.
The neighborhood candy store is fast becoming extinct in New York City, going the way of the independent drugstore and the superette. Let’s hope Economy stays put.
“Ashcan School” artist John Sloan really had a thing for the Sixth Avenue El. Several of his paintings depict the El at Third Street or Eighth Street; Jefferson Market Courthouse can often be seen in the distance.
Here he highlights the next stop on the El, at 14th Street. It’s still a major shopping crossroads. Currently a Starbucks and Urban Outfitters occupy the Southeast corner, past the “Shoes” marquee in the painting.
The building across the street with the pointed turret is still there. Down toward Seventh Avenue looms the Salvation Army headquarters, also still in existence.
Ads for escort agencies based in New York City never seem to feature women who actually look like they live in New York City. But this vintage-1980s ad, for an outfit called Flash, is different.
Published in a March 1982 issue of the Soho News, it features a trendy, New Wave kind of chick, the sort of girl found in downtown indie classic Smithereens.
No bikinis or breast implants—instead, these escorts come to your Tribeca loft decked out in geometric earrings and white plastic sunglasses.
Phone number blocked out to protect the Manhattan resident who has this number now.
When a shop goes out of business, there’s a short yet sweet window of time during which the defunct store’s sign is down . . . and the ghost sign from a long-ago shop becomes visible. For a few days to a few weeks, you get this tiny glimpse into the city’s recent past.
Like Reisman’s Ladieswear at 226 East 14th Street. Not too many signs advertise “cut rate” clothing anymore:
Lafayette French Pastry, on Bleecker Street in the West Village, looks like it was a charming place to get a chocolate eclair in the 1960s. They moved over to Greenwich Avenue and West 10th several years ago:
I wonder what Richman, at 300 Canal Street, sold:
If the sign advertised a product or service, we’ll never know; it’s hidden behind a red blotch.
