Yorkville: Stoops to Nuts

I Wish That I Knew What I Know Now

2009-11-08T16:48:00.025-05:00

when I was younger...
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This afternoon, I pedaled to the East Village, saw a balloon and visited St. Mark's Church. There was a wish tree decorated with wish cards, and I wrote on mine, "I wish to see my daughter soon." Took some pictures, and caught a guy trying to steal my bike. A picture of the thug manhandling my ride is below. I took the bike back from him and said, "thank you."
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Then, I dropped in on a live East Village Radio show, Atlantic Tunnel on First Avenue

between 1st & 2nd Street. It was cool, they do the show in a store front ~ behind the glass they spin the tunes. They love what they're doing and that is infectious. Just cheers me up.
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Atlantic Tunnel is hosted by Brits Ed Rogers and Gaz Thomas, the popular radio show can be heard on Sundays from noon - 2 pm @ Sunday. Today's show was dedicated to Ian McLagan a member of the Small Faces and Faces. Ian didn't write "Ooh La La," but I love it.

Isis Digs Autumn in New York

2009-11-07T07:33:00.031-05:00

My friend, Isis, the patron of magic and nature applauds autumn in New York. She loves the giant Checker taxi cabs on 5th & 14th, and tried to eat the colorful leaves on the drive in Central Park.

Isis is a big fan of Daniel Webster and the bird's nest over Dan's right shoulder. Countless times, Isis performed the rites of all seasons at the Naumberg band shell on the Central Park Mall. Prior to 1923, Isis performed at the original caste iron band shell in the 1800s.

Isis attended the Gary Puckett and the Union Gap concert at the bandshell in 1968, and sung along to "Woman, Woman," "Young Girl, "and "Lady Willpower."

Lady Willpower, it's now or never. Give your love to me

She's brunched with the Bethesda Fountain angel and her four cherubs, Temperance, Purity, Health, and Peace.

Isis digs live music, favors the Losers Lounge, and is looking forward to being at Maxwell's in Hoboken on Sunday, February 28th for a terrific celebration of Neighborhood Evolution exploring the connections between Hoboken & New York City being planned by Claudia Chopek, Debby Schwartz and me. They'll be fabulous artists, musicians & storytellers. A good time for all.

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Isis further approves New York Yankees World Championship.

It's High Noon for Tom Jones

2009-11-06T00:00:00.017-05:00

Last night, I'm watching High Noon, with Gary Cooper & Grace Kelly. Whenever the movie's theme song, Do Not Forsake Me, came on, I saw Tom Jones bouncing around in a tuxedo.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4a_1UhwgFU

After a quick visit to YouTube, I realized why.

The songwriter who wrote Help Yourself, just sped up Do Not Forsake Me, and put new words on it. Listen to both songs, and you'll it hear too. You'll also hear the bouncy Mexican horns on Help Yourself, that seem to be on every Tom Jones' Parrot label 45 single.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k57Bcs8DeKY

Tom Jones' favorite celebrity photograph

Yankees Win Series ~ My Memories Slide Home

2009-11-05T08:15:00.013-05:00

I'm ten years old, playing softball down John Jay Park, and I'm coming up to the plate for the Yorkville Stars. Suddenly, Dad is leaning on the fence behind me and gets my attention before I step into the batter's box.
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"Hey, Tommy, where are you?"
"Bottom of the ninth."
"How you doing?"
"We need a big inning."
"What's the score?"
"14-2."

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/24/nyregion/thecity/24thir.html?_r=2&scp=1&sq=boy%20in%20the%20bullpen&st=cse
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Below: my grandmother, 14, selling newspapers outside the Polo Grounds in 1920. She'd sell enough papers to buy a ticket then go inside and root for the Yankees. Nan hated John McGraw and also went to the Giant games to give McGraw the business calling him "Mugsy" and "Little Napoleon." Nan was escorted out of the park a few times with a smile on her face.

Yorkville Taverns

2009-11-03T09:28:00.007-05:00

In 1961 & 1962 Dad took a few pictures of four or five taverns. I recently found a few.
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I also posted several Yorkville pictures on Facebook today at the link below:
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http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=2908325&id=541978729#/album.php?aid=119890&id=541978729

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Jack Loftus, Walt Trusits, Allie & Sylvia Cobert at my wedding in 1980.

Joan in front of Little Hofbrau 1952

Bobby, Tommy & Rory Pryor, Christmas Day, 1961 in front of the Old Timers Tavern

Through the Mirror, Lightly

2009-10-30T19:23:00.029-05:00

Two pictures of the front step of 1582 York Avenue, 1942 & 2009, then & now.

Spy the Mission Soda advertisement behind my 36 year old grandmother on her way to the 85th Street Gracie Station Post Office to mail the letter in her right hand. Every day would improve with a bottle of Mission Cream.

Below, two pictures of the east side of York Avenue between 83rd & 84th Streets in 1945 & 2009. The 1945 shot is Tom Pryor, my uncle, in front of 1582 just home from Italy after four years in the Army. Old Timers Tavern is directly to his right.

Below are two pictures of the southeast corner of 86th Street and York Avenue, 1953 & 2009. Fran Carmody, Pat O'Rourke & Barbara Ryan. Down the block on the west side of 86th Street was Misericordia Hospital.

If you look at both pictures you can see a strip of bluestone sidewalk along the 86th Street side. Bluestone was the best roller-skating surface, polished smooth, worn down, you flew over it, and there was so little of it left when I was a kid, but we knew where it was. The best stretch was in front of the Frick Museum on Fifth Avenue. A long way to go for a skate but well worth it.

Below is the store front of what was Kronk's Soda Fountain, at the NW corner of 87th Street & York Avenue, where Barbara Ryan rolled me around in a stroller, gallivanting and flirting with the boys.

Below is the stoop of 222 East 85th Street, from where Jimmy Nolloth watched the river flow for 40 years, enjoying all the traffic in and out of the post office across the street. I loved Uncle Jimmy. We leaned on that rail together a thousand times.

The rear of the former Yorkville Casino on 85th Street between 2nd & 3rd Avenue. Notice the original etching of the musician's union that built the structure nearly a hundred years ago.

York Avenue Oct 2009 ~ bet. 83rd & 84th Street

Frame Houses in Yorkville built in the mid 1800s. What a blast walking down the block and running into one of these beauties.

Halloween in Yorkville ~ A Hideous Dance of Death

2009-10-24T19:03:00.022-04:00

In front of a townhouse, a half block from Central Park, a Hideous Dance of Death is spinning round. There are goblins and ghouls and many more gruesome guests.

The other pictures are for fun. A building across from the ghost house, Art in Washington D.C., City Hall Fountain lights at midnight, Ali and Mel at Coney, the day Ali left for France; same day, Surf Avenue.

Myles Goldin is Spartacus!

2009-10-22T09:48:00.007-04:00

Oops, forget Spartacus.

Myles Goldin is Pousser!

My terrifically talented friend, Myles Goldin, is starring in a show at the Women at Work Festival on Wed @ Oct 28th @ 8pm @ Stage Left Studio.

Fences is about love and decisions. Come inside Pousser's world and explore the process and benefits of being on the fence about life. Not necessarily a comfortable place to be...or is it?

Tickets are $18. Discount tickets are available using the code 3OFF.

Seating is limited, so advance ticket purchase is recommended.

For more information, visit http://www.stageleftstudio.net/ and click on the festivals tab.

Stage Left Studio is located at 438 W 37th Street 5A, NYC, just east of 37 Arts.

Stage Left Studio is tucked away on the FIFTH FLOOR.

You'll recognize us by the white glass globe light fixtures. Simply buzz the button for Stage Left, listed in the building directory, and come up the elevator to the fifth floor and walk down the hall. Conveniently located between 9th and 10th Avenues, near the Port Authority and Penn Stations A, C or E line.

http://www.stageleftstudio.net/#/women-at-work-09/4535314930, here is a specific link to the festival itself. Tickets at http://www.smarttix.com/ under the Women at Work Festival.

I'm so excited about Myles show, I'm flying

Yorkville History Exhibit by Kathy Jolowicz @Sunday, Oct 25th @2:30pm

2009-10-20T09:27:00.003-04:00

This Sunday coming, October 25th at 2:30pm, Yorkville Historian, Kathy Jolowicz presents an exhibit/lecture on the history of the Yorkville neighborhood at Immanuel Lutheran Church @ Lexington Avenue & 88th Street.
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Kathy has terrific photos, historical items and dozens of little known facts about Yorkville going back to the 19th century. Even if you know a lot about the neighborhood, you'll learn much more if you attend this interesting event.
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The History and life in YORKVILLE/KLEINDEUTSCHLAND

PRESENTED @ IMMANUEL LUTHERAN CHURCH

88TH STREET & LEXINGTON AVENUE

(ENTER RED DOOR ON LEXINGTON AVE. NEXT TO CVS)

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 25th @ 2:30-3:30 PM

An exhibit/lecture by Yorkville Historian, Kathy Jolowicz.displays 20 photo panels, depicting the life and times of this once internationally famous landmark in New York City called “Germantown”. It encompasses the era of the 10s through the 60s, as well as the Slocum Disaster. The story tells of the people, the businesses and the churches that made up the vibrant German community of Yorkville. You are welcome to share your memories.
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Your $5.00 donation includes one complimentary serving of coffee and a choice of German Baked Goods. Additional servings available for purchase.

My Baby Just Wrote Me a Letter

2009-10-17T16:11:00.023-04:00

On Thanksgiving Day, 1951, Dad was docked in St. John's harbor in Newfoundland on his Naval ship. That day, he got a crappy haircut and bitched about the barber in this letter to my Mom. Dad started courting Mom in 1949 after they met at Eastside House on 76th Street off the East River. They were the settlement house's Lindy champs one year.

The love and humor in this letter made me miss Dad. He's funny here and he rarely showed this side of his imagination to me. His writing is a treasure trove ~ a crystal ball that reveals what's coming in their marriage, both the good and the bad. A tender single point of view screenplay. Dad loved film and he saw his family's lives as one long Warner Brothers picture that he tried to direct the best he could.

I enjoy that he hand wrote the second page. He's anxious to get it off to Mom and he's adding stuff as he runs in the snow, climbs cliffs and ice skates to town to mail it.

Inside the letter was a doodle by Dad of Mom's name, Patricia.

I have several letters from Dad at sea to Mom on York Avenue. Lots to explore.

My Nerves are Shot

2009-10-14T17:01:00.047-04:00

I'm a wreck.

I duck when someone points their finger while giving me directions. I think people I love are going to hit me when they innocently move a limb towards me. I scare myself when I sneeze.

Some of this started with the TV volume growing up. Dad liked to watch TV loud, and stay up late to watch old movies on Channel 5 & 9. Mom and Rory got used to it. They both could sleep through a war. I never got used to it and walked around in a coma from sleep deprivation.

Mom and Dad's relationship was like a functional alcoholic, they got through the day but there were casualties. Usually Rory and me from their verbal bouts. That pushed me around the corner to my father's mother's apartment on York Avenue.

I lost a portion of my hearing up Nan's nut house. She loved lots of company, playing pinochle and pokeno, loud TV, Guy Lombardo & Kate Smith music, and she had a $100 telephone bill in 1965, twice her rent cost, staying up to midnight every night yakking away doing her politics.

Nan was the only person I knew who if she was speaking in her apartment, her voice volume could wash out the horrible theme music coming from the Mister Softee truck. She'd be saying something then stop, and I'd hear the Mister Softee truck a block away. I completely missed its appearance in front of our house.

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But the main reason, my nerves are shot is my perpetual proximity to demolition and construction.

It started on 83rd Street when they demolished 515, right next to my building, 517,and put up an ugly gray building that took three years to complete. Mom caught Rory and me walking across a fourth floor beam during early construction, and for once, I absolutely remember getting hit and fully understood why, even though I blamed Rory forever because Mom couldn't see us on the beam but called our names out the back window.

"Tommy?"

No answer.

"Rory, are you there?"

"Hi, Mom."

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When 515 came down, no lead or asbestos team was on hand, just a crane and a huge concrete ball taking whole brick and plaster walls down smack after smack. A cloud of dust rose over the block and stayed there for hours. It was a cool thing to watch a wrecking ball in action, except when it was destroying the building next to yours. I secretly hoped the ball would miss 515 and go through the third floor window of 517 and hit Mr. Toledo in the head. Cheap bastard didn't tip me when I delivered his Sunday Daily News.
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When I was 10, at St. Stephen's of Hungary, they pulverized a perfectly good rectory next to our school, and put a new one up. Three years of noise and dust on our desks and in our eyes and ears. In 1964 when they knocked something down, they just knocked it down. No water, no brick by brick, the wrecking ball came in and everybody had a big old party watching the ball raze a building in a few days.

After St. Stephen's, they leveled the lovely & old Church of the Nativity on Second Avenue in the East Village and built a modern horror right next to LaSalle Academy my high school. I thought I had Parkinson's due to the involuntary shaking I developed because our classes were right next to the party wall we shared with the new church. I flinched all the time, my girlfriend loved it.

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After high school, Hunter College began a major expansion effort by tearing buildings down across the street from the Hunter High School Building shown in the picture here.

After college, I worked on William Street where they ripped up the streets over and over again ~ eight years of torturous jackhammering.

I was three blocks from the WTC North Tower when it was bombed in 1993 and when it collapsed in Sept 2001.
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Now I work at 90 Church Street surrounded by 360 degrees of demolition and construction. The World Trade Center site is right outside my window, they're demolishing a college building on Greenwich Street out the other window, a new sixty-story building (it also replaced a rectory) went up next to St. Peter's Church and they foolishly destructed the Deco Art quality Dun & Bradstreet building on Church Street that is being replaced by a ninety-story Silverstein monster.

Someone told me, "You'll have peace when you're in your grave." Hope so, but I'm not counting on it.

Coney Island ~ When Everyone Goes Home

2009-10-12T22:39:00.029-04:00

Worked hard this weekend, then I snuck in some play.
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Rode the bike to Coney ~ what a gorgeous day. The beach and boardwalk in October is splendid. The birds were mad at me and kept running away. My bike wanted to go in the water, but forgot his trunks.
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All the way on the bottom is Nick Danger and the Ho-Ho's from the Losers Lounge show at Joe's Pub. Losers Lounge is the best recurring show in the city. Thank you, Joe McGinty & David Terhune and the Kustard Kings for the seasonal switch cheer me up.
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Every good boy deserves favour...
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Goooooooooooo Giiiiiiiiants!

Pat Cullinan's 1968-1973 Photos & The Babe in Right Field in 1928

2009-10-10T09:30:00.015-04:00

Patrick Cullinan, my LaSalle Academy Geometry teacher,created an amazing catalogue of photographs that captured LaSalle life between 1968 and 1973.
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In addition to the LaSalle photos, Pat took tons of pictures of the Lower East Side and other New York City neighborhoods. You can see all the photos at the link below including recent shots of Papaya King on 86th Street taken this past month. I owe Pat, much ~ he is one of the most interesting, knowledgeable and funny mentors I've had in my life and a stupendous photographer (Click on photos to open).
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If you ever stepped into a Catholic classroom, or wondered what else was going in the East Village in the late 60s besides sex, drugs and rock & roll take a look at Pat's photos.

http://pcullinan.smugmug.com/

It drives me nuts that hardly anybody had to sense to film Yankee baseball in the 1920s at Yankee Stadium. The Stadium I knew and loved, until the renovation at the end of the 1973 season, was radically different from the original 1923 structure. Dead center was 490 feet, a flag pole was in the middle of the deep outfield, there was no left or right field upper deck, the Yankee dugout was on the third base side, and on and on.
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Yesterday, the New York Times published a story and a link to a one minute long film of Babe Ruth playing right field in 1928, and striking out with Lou Gehrig on deck. This is the first film to surface showing Ruth playing the outfield, and you also see quick shots of the Grand Concourse with a few familiar buildings missing. Check out the film and the Times article at the link below.
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http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/09/sports/baseball/09video.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=babe%20ruth&st=cse
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Mad Mom's Not Pleased With Pee-wee

2009-10-07T12:40:00.014-04:00

Despite Mad Mom's best efforts, Pee-wee continues to woo Bride of Frankenstein Barbie.
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In the last month, Pee-wee bought fine art for his angel, taken her to roof top restaurants for French cuisine, arranged tango lessons, and spun Bride of Frankenstein Barbie through Central Park in horse-drawn carriages. The last straw for Mad Mom was hearing Pee-wee told Bride of Frankenstein Barbie that her Italian sauce was the best in the world. Made Mad Mom's blood boil.

Mad Mom promised to blast this tryst asunder. Stay tuned...

Watching the action, my Uncle Mommy's teddy bear & friends. There hasn't been this much excitement in the living room since Lawrence Tynes drove the ball through the uprights in Green Bay sending the Giants to the Super Bowl two seasons ago. Teddy is hoping to get called into action later in the football schedule this year. Teddy told me he was in a car last week, and a guy pulled up along side him in a yellow Hummer with a sticker on the side that said "Top of the World." When Teddy looked inside to see who was driving he saw a guy with a bad haircut wearing a Dallas Cowboy jacket.

Here are a couple of pictures of City Hall Park at midnight and one of the Woolworth building yesterday.

Saint Francis, Pope Paul, Michael Toth & the Devil Dog

2009-10-06T10:09:00.022-04:00

On October 4, 1965, the feast day of Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint Stephen of Hungary's student body was marched up to Third Avenue in the afternoon to wave to Pope Paul VI driving by on his way to Yankee Stadium in his limousine.
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This was important to me on several levels:
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We were getting out of sixth grade early.
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The New York Yankees stunk in 1965 and having the Pope say a Mass on their home field should help their future prospects. .

I would have free rein to goof off, and look at all the older girls in the school and they couldn't do anything about. "What are you looking at?" "Ha, ha," I'd think, not say.

The Franciscan priests in our parish were good guys and we, the nuns & the students, all got into the spirit of the day whether the Pope showed up or not. Plus, I loved the guy. St. Francis was cool and super nice to animals, I loved animals and he blessed them. And, St. Francis was in my grandmother's holy trinity along with St. Anthony for lost objects & the super duper St. Jude for hopeless cases ~ a biggie for our family.

Every two years, they ran a movie of his life in the auditorium getting us out of a class for a Friday afternoon. The movie wasn't bad, and I admired the comfort of only wearing a robe with a rope belt, best uniform every invented, and Italy was beautiful and I considered it a place I definitely would visit down the road.

After lunch we lined up outside the school and like a gaggle of 300 geese we waddled up 82nd street to the avenue, where we stood against police saw horses on the east side of Third between 81st Street & 82nd Street. Earlier that day, I served 8am Mass with a guy in my class, Michael Toth, who was a big pain in my ass. One of those guys that always had to be first in everything: out the door, on line for the water fountain, first at bat in punch ball, a general pain in the ass. Toth located a Siamese pipe connection right behind us against a building, and used it to sit and rest on, its shape perfect for a kid's ass. We waited a long time, and Toth also planned on standing on it when the Pope went by for a better view.

Toth kept coming over and telling everyone how comfortable it was and how he was going to have a perfect view, and if anyone tried to sit there he'd run over and throw them off. We all wanted him dead.

While he's doing this, I'm eating a Devil Dog the long way, taking the two cake parts apart and starting to lick the creme out of the middle, when Toth comes over to tell Freddy Muller, "Ha. ha, Ive got a great seat," I slip one half of my unlicked Devil Dog on the Siamese connection, creme side up. Toth preoccupied, sits on it and he is so caught up he doesn't notice, the nun sick of Toth popping up and down moves over to straighten him out, Toth pops up again on his way over to brag some more, and the nun notices the Devil Dog sticking to his pants, she smacks Toth in the head thinking he was eating it and did it to himself out of carelessness. After she hits him she adds, "Wipe yourself off, wood head."

Toth puzzled about everything, reaches behind and grabs most of the cake, and I could tell by the look on his face he was praying it wasn't dog crap.

Meantime, the Pope's a half block north of us. I missed him, Toth missed him and the nun hit Toth again because she missed him too.

I returned my focus to the older girls.

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Stephanie Varga Grove Oh my God,Tom, how you remember those things is amazing !!! But they are all true ! I do remember going to see the Pope on 3rd Ave that year !
5 minutes ago · Comment · Like / Unlike · See Wall-to-Wall

Talking Scales

2009-10-03T14:54:00.023-04:00

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"Please! Step on the scale!" A firm male voice directed me.
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I waited a second, listening hard to make sure she sounded busy three rooms away. When I heard the sink running, I got on and the number came up.
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"Your weight is 178 pounds. Have a nice day. Goodbye!"
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I'm a fat bastard.
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Laughing started in the kitchen at the other end of the railroad apartment on York Avenue. My grandmother with the hearing ability of a nocturnal animal, was clearing her lungs and stomach, big ol' belly laughs starting way down. I wanted to kill her, and kick my cousin in the ass for buying her the talking scale with Don Pardo's voice. I loved Nan dearly, but she wanted me fat. She wanted everyone fat. She loved food and loved eating with people, so she filled her fridge to the point it was dark in there, because the 15 watt light bulb was shaded by a colossal head of iceberg lettuce sitting on two large tubs of Cool Whip. The Cool Whip to go on top of the Turf Cheese Cake that she bought right next to our house. Italian Village pizza place on First Avenue considered her family and the Parker's bought their first car on the profits they made off Nan's cold cut orders. She never bought a quarter pound of nothing. Half pound was a snack. Three quarters of a pound was getting into sandwich country. I was a cold cut junkie.
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Similar to recreational drug friendships, the bonds with my friends were strengthened by the load of cold cuts, Jewish rye and condiments in my Nan's fridge.
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Artie Peters met me on Saturday afternoons on lunch break from my delivery job at Corner Pharmacy on 79th & York. We'd go straight to Parkers, buy a pound of Swiss cheese and a loaf of rye on Nan's credit in the marble book, go up the apartment and make six grilled cheeses, two each ~ Nan included. We made dark chiaroscuro swirls on Nan's white tin ceiling with the plume of smoke coming from the butter soaked black frying pan with the foot high flame under it.
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Buddy McMahon and I, had a kind of exchange student relationship with his mom and my grandmother. I'd sometimes hang out with his Mom and shoot the shit while she loaded me up with 4 C Ice Tea. Buddy would drop by my grandmother's when I wasn't there for a quick sandwich and glass of milk and catch up on the local gossip & politics.
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About a month after Nan got the scale, Buddy dropped up the apartment, for a change, while I was there.
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"Hey, Buddy, try out the new scale," Nan said.
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Obediently, Buddy stepped on the scale, clueless, and Nan looked like she just ate a canary.
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"Your weight is 180 pounds. Have a nice day! Goodbye!"
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Buddy startled, frowned and rubbed his belly, I was pleased, and Nan grinned.

High Fidelity

2009-09-29T21:57:00.013-04:00

Met and spoke with a hero of mine tonight, Nick Hornby.
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Nick's book, High Fidelity, opened a writing door for me six years ago, that's never closed. Hornby's love of music and it's centric inclusion in his work, convinced me I could mix my passions into stories I wanted to tell.

Nick and I agreed, we hope to hear new stuff from Peter Wolf (formerly with the J Geils Band).

I gave Nick a story I dedicated to him, saturated with musical references, Vinyl Medication. His big smile made my night.

Thank you, A.L.P. love, Tommy

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High Fidelity, Elvis Costello, 1980 video
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vRT8nA665Gs

High Fidelity/Elvis Costello

Some things you never get used to
Even though you're feeling like another man
There's nothing that he can do for you
To shut me away as you walk through
Lovers laughing in their amateur hour
Holding hands in the corridors of power
Even though Im with somebody else right now
High fidelity
Can you hear me?
There's a new kind of dedication
Maybe you'll find it down the tunnel
Maybe I got above my station
Maybe you're only changing channel
Even though you're nowhere near me
And I know you kiss him so sincerely now
Even though the signals indistinct
And you worry what silly people think
Who just cant wait to feel so frozen out
I bet he thinks that he was chosen out of millions
I suppose hell never know about
High Fidelity

Safe at Home

2009-09-27T17:16:00.016-04:00

I never shook Mickey Mantle's hand and that remains one of my few regrets.

When I was 8 years old, Mickey stood right in front of me at the 86th Street RKO theatre in April 1962, when they made that silly movie "Safe at Home," to capitalize on the Maris & Mantle, M&M boys' 1961 home run derby. The Yankee team made appearances in several New York City movie houses to promote the film.

I forced Dad to get to the theatre two hours early to make sure we were on the aisle. We had a quick burger across the street at Prexy's first. At seven o' five, word spread the team bus had pulled up in front. The Yankees came into the lobby dressed in suits & ties and marched down the right side of the movie house. Yogi Berra walked by me and stepped on my toe, but I didn't notice, though my father did and wanted Berra to apologize. It was strange seeing Dad pissed at Yogi.

Elston Howard stopped in front of me, and put his arms behind his back like a military MP. Ellie saw I was having a baby over Mickey Mantle standing right next to him two feet away from me shaking in my sneakers. Dad and Ellie exchanged laughs over my dilemma, then Howard leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Say hi, he won't bite you." But I was too scared to say anything to Mickey. As the Yankees walked on stage for a final bow, I dribbled my opportunity away.

Below is a letter I wrote to Mantle when I was 13.

59th Street Bridge ~ Now and Then: 1909 ~ 2009

2009-09-26T09:48:00.018-04:00

Here's a photo of the 59th Street Bridge from 1909 the year it opened.
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Below it are photos I took last week. I attempted to take the same scene, 59th Street looking east from Second Avenue to the water, but trees, cars and construction blocked a great deal.
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On the very bottom are two photos of buildings on the north side of East 73rd Street between York Avenue and the water. These tenements were built approx. 1920, before that, this area was the center of Jones Woods. During the 19th century Jones Woods was a major destination for picnics, rallies, horseback riding and all forms of recreation.

Below ~ a 1918 New York Times article about Yorkville and Jones Wood:

http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?_r=1&res=9902E7D7143EE433A2575BC2A9619C946996D6CF E E433A2575BC2A9619C946996D6CF

Below is part of an article from New York Nature on the consideration of Jones Wood for Manhattan's key new park:

http://www.newyorknature.net/Parks.html

The campaign to create a great public park began in 1844 with an editorial in the Evening Post by William Cullen Bryant, who proposed a wild tract of 160 acres between 68th and 77th streets and Third Avenue and the East River, known as Jones's Wood, which he described as "beautiful woodland...thickly covered with old trees."

Another New York Times article from 1921 that references Yorkville and Jones Wood:

http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?_r=1&res=9D0DE7D8103FEE3ABC4852DFB266838A639EDE

I still smell Silvercup bread whenever I cross the 59th Street bridge.

Men Without Hats

2009-09-25T20:34:00.010-04:00

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Sometime in the late 1980s' I ran into Tom Landry at a midtown saloon during a New York Giants alumni party. I wasn't able to talk to Tom because of the noise volume, but I was able to convey my appreciation for all the Cowboys have meant to me with sign language. In return, Tom gave me the universal "be fruitless and multiply" signal when no one was looking.
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Metropolis Magazine wrote a solid review for Tom Beller's "Lost & Found" New Stories Anthology, see it below:
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http://www.metropolismag.com/pov/20090921/bookshelf-lost-and-found-stories-from-new-york

Blow Away the Dreams That Tear You Apart

2009-09-23T15:23:00.010-04:00

Happy Birthday, Bruce. He turns 60 today.

The photos were taken by my friend, Jeff Havas, at Madison Square Garden in August 1978 after "Darkness on the Edge of Town," came out.

I went to the opening show on a $ 6 ticket. The next night, I scalped a tix for $15 and snuck down to the third row in the orchestra. Those two concerts readjusted my heart for live music.

Bruce took me away for three hours, to a place I had never been to. His energy and talent targeting me and everyone else there overwhelmed me, and left me flattened. He still does that. I'm grateful he's still out there.

My Favorite Springsteen song:

My Love Will Not Let You Down,

Madison Square Garden, 2000

the guitar duel at the end gets me every time

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1ASNugJVG4

No Sacks, No Turnovers, No Romo

2009-09-21T00:00:00.012-04:00

Dateline: Sept. 20, 2009
Let's Call It Nothing At All Stadium, Texas
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No Sacks, no turnovers, no Romo!
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Despite the Cowboys dirty pool move with the hurried timeout call as Tynes kicked, the Giants lined up and did it again.
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Giants 33 ~ Cowboys 31

Best half birthday present ever.

How bout those Boys?
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St. Paddy's & Rockefeller Center ~ 1900 & Today ~ A Walk Around

2009-09-18T15:21:00.018-04:00

Here are a few pictures from a midtown walk around St. Patrick's Cathedral, Rockefeller Center and The New York Library.

My grandfather, Thomas E. Pryor, was born in 820 Third Avenue at 50th Street in 1900 before the Third Avenue rail was electrified in 1905. His family lived on the third floor in an apartment that faced the roaring smokey steam engines that chugged by like the one in the black & white picture here. Also below is a 1939 NYC tax record photograph of the west side of Third Avenue between 50th & 51st Streets. 820 is the second building off the left side of the picture. My grandfather was baptized in St. Patrick's Cathedral on December 23, 1900, a copy of the certificate is below.

Nan Loved San Gennaro Zeppoli & Tripe

2009-09-17T13:34:00.027-04:00

My grandmother, Ann Pryor Rode, worked for Surrogate & Supreme Court judges from the 1940s through the 1970s. Being right there on Centre Street, being of Sicilian blood, Nan made a big deal out of the San Gennaro festival. The actual Feast Day of San Gennaro is September 19th. The festival started in 1926 for the patron saint of Naples.

Nan loved food, and loved her zeppoli's. At lunch all that week, she would walk over to the festival, pin an offering to the statute's apron, and eat her way through the streets. One of the judges always drove her back and forth from work to Yorkville. I couldn't wait for the paper sack of oiled soaked treats, and she always had her own powered sugar shaker ready to blanket each zeppoli like it was in the middle of a terrible snow storm.

Moderation was an unknown word in Nan's household. She didn't smoke or drink and moved the weight of those vices over to eating. She also brought home tripe from a Mulberry Street butcher, I was thrilled to find out tripe was cow stomach. When she prepared cow stomach I left the apartment and wouldn't come back till it was done, eaten and put away.

The other night, I walked down Fifth Avenue, through Washington Square Park, down Bleecker Street and over to Houston and Mulberry. When I got there, Puck was looking down, smiling, from a ledge on the south east corner of his self named building at the Festival's entrance sign, saying San Gennaro in neon script. I slid through the gauntlet of vendors aiming for Old St. Patrick's Cathedral soaked in the festival lights. I then imagined the location 83 years ago. It was easy. The City's great in this tween period between summer and fall.

Each Day Was Hard

2009-09-16T10:08:00.017-04:00

My passion for New York City and it's neighborhoods developed a long time ago, when Dad and Mom dragged us all over town walking, biking, subways, boats and buses.

We had no car so we never got anywhere quickly. This left a lot of time to think about what we were seeing and where we were going, and view things more slowly than if you flew by in a Buick. As a kid you tend to pick something visual to focus on to avoid boredom and my brother, Rory, and I had lots of targets.

Add Dad's obsessive photo taking, and I ended up with a broad pictorial record of most of our trips around the city in the 1950s and 1960s. In most of these photographs, Rory is front and center, the lead player in the scene.

Looking at these photos, Rory's engaged photogenic face always makes me think we had a better time than we really did. I never mind this delusion.

Rory passed away eleven years ago today. He was 42. Rory was a terrific artist. He sketched, sculpted and painted. When Rory wasn't doing his art, he struggled. Each day for him for hard. I wish it was otherwise, and I miss him. My photos give me comfort, but it'd be more fun doing it with Rory. I wish he were here.