Winged chariots and lions on West 30th Street

Not too many Manhattan buildings feature terra cotta panels and friezes inspired by ancient Assyrian art.

Then there’s 130 West 30th Street. Constructed in 1927 as the SJM building (that’s for Solomon Manne, who made a fortune in the fur business), it was renamed in 2003 after going co-op in honor of its architect, Cass Gilbert.

Gilbert is the man behind many great early 20th century New York City landmarks, from the Woolworth Building downtown to the New York Life skyscraper near Madison Square Park.

The 20-story Cass Gilbert Building is no Garment District slouch. It has 45 luxury loft apartments, not to mention these triumphant, exotic panels above the entrance. Take a tour of the penthouse here.

The second-worst fire in New York City history

You know what the worst is. Next on the list—in terms of loss of firefighter life, that is—comes the 23rd Street Fire in 1966, which killed 12 firefighters.

It started in a brownstone at 7 East 22rd Street at 9:30 p.m. on October 17. An art dealer stored paint in the cellar, which fueled heavy smoke and a raging basement fire.

Unable to make their way to the source of the flames, firefighters went around the block to 23rd Street to try to enter through a building that shared the cellar.

Firefighters didn’t know that after a renovation, a wall in the shared cellar had been moved, weakening the floor. The entire first floor soon collapsed into the basement inferno, killing 10 firefighters. Two more died in another part of the building.

The city was astounded and distraught. Days later, 10,000 firefighters flanked Fifth Avenue as fire trucks carried coffins to St. Thomas Episcopal Church and St. Patrick’s Cathedral. (Above photo: FDNY. Below: The New York Times)

The site is now home to a high-rise apartment house, just across from Madison Square Park. A small plaque honors the men who lost their lives there 43 years ago.

Kitschy and colorful 1960s store signs

Vintage signs like these have such a Jetsons-era feel. They liven otherwise drab city blocks with color and fun swinging-’60s fonts.

Superior Florists are off Sixth Avenue in the ever-shrinking flower district of the upper 20s:

The Carnegie Deli sign, on Seventh Avenue in the 50s, features a similar retro cursive font and an even brighter yellow hue:

At Greenpoint Avenue and Queens Boulevard in Sunnyside is the King Boulevard Mens Shop. (Suits for $79.99!) 

The poor Trowel & Square Ballroom, on 125th Street in Harlem, looks neglected and forlorn: 

Strange to name a ballroom after a tool used to spread dirt or cement. Does anyone know the history of this place?

Back in time with the Times wedding pages

If you’re a fan of the “Weddings & Celebrations” section of the Sunday New York Times, then you may be pleased to know that the wedding announcements of 2009 read pretty much the same as they did more than 100 years ago. 

The main differences: The couples of the early 1900s were super WASPy, as opposed to the more multicultural mix featured today.

And society writers back then went to great length to describe the bride and bridesmaid dresses and flowers—something the Times hasn’t done for years.

Here’s the writeup of the Darlington-Hubbard nupitals, from the February 24, 1907 paper. Interestingly, the groom is named first; contemporary announcements always lead with the bride’s name.

I wish they told us where the “bridal trip” was planned for.

The faces on the Flatiron Building

The Flatiron Building is so striking and unusual, it’s easy to get caught up gazing at the overall shape and design and not notice that near the top of its 22 floors are some rather unfriendly faces.

These grotesques, like this one below, have been staring pedestrians down since 1902, when the Flatiron Building—originally called the Fuller Building—opened. It was New York’s first skyscraper and its tallest for years.

Though not an immediate architectural hit, its cultural impact was established fast. Artists photographed and painted the building, and writers referenced its beauty.

In 1906, H.G. Wells wrote: “I found myself agape, admiring a skyscraper—the prow of the Flatiron Building, to be particular, ploughing up through the traffic of Broadway and Fifth Avenue in the late-afternoon light.”

Fun fact: The term “flatiron” was used before the building was ever conceived; it’s what locals called the iron-shaped triangular plot at Broadway, Fifth Avenue, and 22nd, and 23rd Streets upon which the building was eventually constructed.

Who’s playing at the Peppermint Lounge?

Echo & the Bunnymen! Public Image Ltd! The July 1982 lineup at early-80s rock club Peppermint Lounge is very post-punk Reagan era:

This version of the Peppermint Lounge existed at 100 Fifth Avenue from 1980 to 1985 and was a premier showcase for new wave and alternative bands.

It’s a different incarnation of the Peppermint Lounge on 45th Street that became famous in the 1960s as the nightclub that popularized go-go dancing and the Twist.

The weight loss quacks of East 22nd Street

Tucked away on a side street near then-fashionable Madison Square Park was the “United States Medical Dispensary,” a shady-sounding outfit that sold diet advice through ads in magazines at the turn of the last century.

I like the part about readers of this ad being afraid “the remedy is worse than the disease.” What could the treatment have been—tapeworms? 

Looks like the city’s obsession with thinness and weight loss didn’t get its start with amphetamine-popping Upper East Side ladies in the 1960s or during the heroin chic days of the ’90s. New York has worshipped skinny people for at least a century.

Strolling and showing off on Broadway

It may be one of the more grungy parts of Manhattan now. But around 1900, Broadway between 14th Street and Herald Square was one of the centers of the city—a place to stroll, shop, show off, and be seen—lined with fancy hotels and theaters. 

The ritual is chronicled in Theodore Dreiser’s Sister Carrie, when the title character, new to New York, visits this part of Broadway with a young female neighbor and is enchanted by what she sees:

“The walk down Broadway, then as now, is one of the remarkable features of the city. There gathered, before the matinee and afterwards, not only all the pretty women who love a showy parade, but the men who love to gaze upon and admire them. It was a very imposing procession of pretty faces and fine clothes.”

The boys of Xavier High School

This is just a random page from a copy of Xavier High School’s 1933 yearbook. Xavier, founded in the 1847, is an elite Jesuit high school on West 16th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues that attracts boys from all over the metropolitan area. Until 1971, ROTC was mandatory, hence the military uniforms.

But when were the boys below marked RIP? Perhaps they died young, in World War II. Or maybe the classmate who owned this yearbook wrote the initials recently.

A Tin Pan Alley chart-topper from 1903

Tin Pan Alley—West 28th Street, between Fifth and Sixth Avenues—was the songwriting capital of the turn of the last century. Sheet music publisher M. Witmark & Sons had their offices there, putting out some of the most popular songs of the era, including this 1903 classic from Victor Herbert’s “Babes in Toyland.”

The song is great, sure, but the cover art alone is worth the price of the music.

 Perlman Pianos (lower left corner) in Brooklyn sold the sheet music. DEwey 9-2525!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Many of the buildings on Tin Pan Alley are up for sale, which means they could meet the wrecking ball soon. Here’s how to help save them and get the block landmarked.