Biking Over The 103rd Street Walkway

My ten year old self would've had a baby gaping at the beautiful baseball fields on Randall's Island Park empty, just waiting for a game. A single occupied field had three retired guys whacking the ball around.

"Hot Fun In The Summertime."

The Yorkville Stable Ghost on 76th Street

On 76th Street between York & First Avenue, there's a reminder that 100 years ago, four legged animals ruled the roadways. Maybe most were horses, donkeys and mules, but that doesn't stop the Impala there now from jumping over the clouds.

Here are a few pictures of the Impala on 76th Street along with Carl Schurz Park photos and a cool car on Broome Street and Dummies on Bleecker Street.

It's June in New York, you will see it all, if you look.

I entered this photograph of the fountain in front of the Plaza Hotel in a contest at a site call Trazzler. If you like the photo could you please vote "like" for it at the link below and leave a comment.

thank you, Tommy

"Crossing Fifth Avenue, I saw the classic statue in the fountain in front of The Plaza Hotel next to Central Park. The air was still wet from the rain that had stopped a moment before. I couldn't get the Moody Blues lyric "giving freely, and completely, to my lady" out of my head as I watched the statue make a soft bow to the old hotel."

http://www.trazzler.com/trips/plaza-hotel-in-new-york-ny-1

Yorkville Sunset Along The River

Walking along the East River in Yorkville at sunset I thought of Nick Drake's River Man, and how the whole stretch from 59th to 78th Street was brimming with fishing, nautical, recreational and commercial activity 100 years ago. The land speculation triggered by the northward growth of the East Side subway opened a period of construction that filled nearly every wooded and vacant lot in Yorkville along with the destruction of most single family homes. Tenements flew up all over, Jones Wood gone.

I still feel the pirates scheming at the rocky cove at 72nd Street where it was rumored they stored their plundered bounty. Right on top of the rocks at 72nd Street George Plimpton ran the Paris Review in his apartment for many years, and Sinatra had a penthouse across the street.

Here are a few pictures and a link to 75 photographs of the sunset along the East River, and a story about Yorkville Bread Wars.


Our next City Stories: Stoops to Nuts storytelling show is Tuesday, April 10, 2012 at the Cornelia Street Café.

Our sensational line-up: Slash Coleman, Kurt Gertsmann, Dave Lester, Susan Neuffer, Sherryl Marshall and Thomas Pryor.

Admission is $7 and includes a free drink. I guarantee a good time.

Yorkville Swimming Options in 1960

End of June, I spy a newly filled pool. My heart, a tom-tom drum.

Water! Water! Water!

Nothing was more important between late June and Labor Day. City pools were essential, they gave great comfort, but I wanted lakes, I wanted beaches and I needed adults with transportation for each. My conniving was bottomless. Mom could page a calendar in February and start sweating freely when she got to June, July, August. Dad welcomed heat like an old friend, in the Navy he slept under a steam pipe for two years. He needed persuasion. Mom was always hot, but she had psoriasis all over and hated the beach, but tolerated lakes. Dad loved body surfing and could be conned into a beach trip but only if the temperature was headed over 90. I’d watch the weather praying for a heat wave so we could get to Rockaway Beach by bus, or if some relative felt sorry for Rory and me they’d take us to Davies or Sparkle Lake.

In short, I craved hot days as a kid; I craved 90 degrees, because that’s what I needed to motivate an adult to leave the island of Manhattan and take us on a water trip. On hot mornings I'd closed the windows of our air-conditionless apartment praying the stuffy heat would drive my parents to the land of impaired judgment where decisions were loose and sloppy. My track record in this area was iffy but I won my share of bouts. I remember the beach and lakes with the kind of affection usually associated with first loves.

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On my bike ride today, I passed Asser Levy Pool which is ready for action. Though John Jay was blocks away in Yorkville we used to bike down to Asser on 23rd Street for a change of pace. Here are some pix from today's ride.

Jack Loftus, Memorial, This Saturday, Noon @ St. Stephen's

When I was eight in 1962, I had the privilege of hanging out in a tavern alone, no parents, no adults, just me, the owner and a couple of Loftus Tavern regulars from the Yorkville neighborhood.

Jack Loftus would serve me my regular, a Coke with two maraschino cherries. I'd sit with him down the end of the bar and we'd split the newspapers. He'd slip me a dime for the jukebox. Jack loved Johnny Cash, I did too.

I'd do this on a Saturday or Sunday or a miserably hot summer afternoon when I had nothing to do. Jack never turned down a kid with a raffle ticket and never failed to buy a table for a neighborhood dance. Jack attended my baptism, communion and wedding. He was pals with my Italian grandmother. I was one of many local kids that counted Jack as an honorary uncle. Part of the Yorkville neighborhood dies forever with him.

Jack died at 90 years two weeks ago, Recently, I visited Jack in his apartment and we reminisced. He still loved the football Giants. Jack lived over his old establishment which is now called Bailey's Corner. The bar in Bailey's Corner is the same one my Dad danced on the night I was born 57 years ago.

This Saturday, April 30th @ Noon ~ I'm attending a memorial mass for Jack Loftus, at St. Stephen's of Hungary @ 408 East 82nd Street. After the mass we’ll walk three blocks along York Avenue back to Bailey’s Corner, Jack's old gin mill and toast him. If you knew Jack, and you’re local, I hope you make it there to say goodbye.

The only time I saw Jack outside his tavern, other than St. Stephen’s or Yankee Stadium was walking along the East River. Here’s the scene. Much as it was 60 years ago, except for this and that. Bye, Jack.

The 59th Street Bridge Song in Pictures

Walking to the river in 1967 took one minute from my 83rd Street stoop to the park drive. Our $64 rent included free deep fall sunsets that washed the 59th Street Bridge in last light colors.

Hello lamp-post, what cha knowin'?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4KZi-aV0VTk

If you enjoy this blog, please consider voting for it in category # 5, "Best Neighborhood Blog," in the Village Voice's 2010 Web Awards. If you did vote, thank you, so much, Tommy

The link to vote:

http://polls.villagevoice.com/polls/nyv/webawards2010/

The Saddest Day of the Year

Leaning over the water fountain, pushing the steel button down with my thumb, bringing my lips in for a burst of water, getting nothing.

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The saddest day of the year: when Carl Schurz's water fountains turned off. I was in a constant state of thirst down the park, and with the water fountain shutdown came earlier sunsets, darkness, and chilly winds. Friends scattered. That first day in the park without water nailed in the reality that winter was coming and the park would not be the welcoming home that opened her arms in spring, summer and early fall. Walking out of the park up 84th Street, I was reminded that my grandfather, John Rode and his family lived in 511 East 84th Street when he met my grandmother in 1942 when they served together as Civil Defense wardens during World War II. I don't know how to put captions on the pictures but I'll do my best to explain. The passport belonged to my great-grandmother Adelheid Rode born in 1873 in Riede a municipality in the district of Verden, in Lower Saxony, Germany. She moved to 511 East 84th Street in the late 1930s with her husband Herman, and my grandfather, John. I'll put up other photos next week.

The picture above is my Dad, Bob Pryor and Adelheid Rode on the 511 stoop in 1946 on John & Anne's wedding day. The pictures below is my grandmother, Anne Pryor, speaking at a Service Flag Dedication on the stoop of 511. Below the passport are Herman and John Rode on East 74th Street in 1909. Below that, Maggie Hagen, my friend from Cleveland on the Drive yesterday, then Carl Schurz in 1900 & 1936, and finally a picture of Henderson Place from 1968.

After the winter I longed for one day, one TV show. Channel 2 showed "The Wizard of Oz," once a year usually on Easter Sunday. This not only was the greatest film on earth (at that point in my life) it was a harbinger that Carl Schurz's water fountains would be opened for business sometime soon. I always sat real close to the TV, when Judy Garland sang "Somewhere Over The Rainbow." I didn't want my parents or brother to see me cry.

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