Labor Day, Sailing Away

Something shifts inside my heart on Labor Day no matter how old I am.

Seasonal change is good, it allows me to step back from the light and the warmth and realize how much pleasure summer brings me.

I always miss it, but I was a weirdo. I liked school and looked forward to getting back and I'm bananas for football.

Yes, let's start the season playing the Anti-Christ from Texas at home.  Go Giants!


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My first book of photographs "River to River ~ New York Scenes from a Bicycle" was published by YBK Publishers. Photos, captions and an essay in an 8 x 11 format.

The book is available at YBK and Amazon for $12.95. Other sellers will be added in a month.

This photography portfolio is a small sample of my work that YBK wanted to put out there. They did a terrific job and I’m honored they asked me. I hope you buy the book and enjoy the pictures.

If you like my stories and my photos there is a lot more coming. Be well, Tommy

Three Cheers for Miss Subway!

When I was a little boy, my grandmother was a personal secretary for a Supreme Court judge. First on the Grand Concourse in an office that over looked Yankee Stadium (my luck as a kid was similar to a Leprechaun). Watched Bobby Richardson lead off the bottom of the first many times. Then, unfortunate for me, she moved with her judge to 60 Centre Street in Manhattan (think Law & Order) for the next twenty years until she retired at 70 years old.

She ordered lunch from two places downtown; George’s Diner nestled next to the Surrogate’s Court House and Ellen’s Coffee Shop on the s/w corner of Chambers & Broadway. I liked picking up the lunches when I was the mood for a walk or had an itchy ass (I visited my grandmother a lot at work ~ I thought the courts and judges were cool). George was great because he put gravy on the mashed potatoes (first time I saw this amazing trick) and his burgers were juicy. But I much rather go to Ellen’s. Ellen was a former Miss Subway and though I wasn’t nuts about her food I was cuckoo crazy for the Miss Subway posters framed all over the restaurant. At 13, I had the hots for Maureen Walsh whose great great uncle was a Union General in the Civil War. She wore her hair in a bump-up but I forgave her for this because I loved her eyes.

My grandmother was always pissed at me when I went to Ellen’s because I took too long and her food was cold. I was mezmorized and spent too much time gawking at the dazzling parade of Miss Subways.

Well, I had a blast from the past last night. My friends Kali, Jeanne & Ed are visiting from Lancaster County, Penn. Our destination was Ellen’s Stardust Diner at 51st Street and Broadway. The entrance to Ellen's is a # 4 subway car, and it’s my Ellen, Miss Subway’s place and the old posters and girls are all over the walls. I had no clue.

We had a great time, singing servers, everybody’s a star in Ellen’s and the food was great. Our server, Anthony Apicella, is known as Dino in the place. Anthony has a terrific voice and professional performing style and his service was aces.

Afterwards, walked through the park at dusk thinking about Maureen Walsh with her hair down way back then.

Here are photos of the diner and the park.

One week to the next City Stories: Stoops to Nuts storytelling show @ Cornelia Street Cafe. Tuesday, August 16th @ 6pm great tellers & songsmiths: The Amygdaloids, Lindsey Gentile, Rachel Pertile Goldstein, Jed Parrish, T Pryor & Andy Ross. It will change your life and make you laugh. I don't know how we do it, but we do. The Cafe ask $7 to cover their expenses then they turn around and give you a free drink, a swell deal.

Feeling Stronger Every Day ~ Strolling Central Park

Walking from Penn Station to Yorkville I passed through Bryant Park and Central Park. Along the way I thought of two Chicago songs, "Feeling Stronger Every Day," & "Saturday in the Park." The first song makes me want to run a few laps around the reservoir; the second like a siren's cry pushes me towards the rocks for a long sit to watch the river flow on the park's paths.

Here are pictures from my walk. I love Chicago way back when they were still CTA, Chicago Transit Authority. They, and early Blood Sweat & Tears knocked me out in 1968 & 1969. Good years to be 14 and 15 in New York.

Here are all the pictures from my stroll.

Storytelling in Central Park & Cornelia Street Cafe

50 years ago in 1961, Dad bought a Yashica 44 camera and the golden age of Pryor photography was lit much to the chagrin of Mom, Rory and me. Dad was relentless and we were his subjects. No back drop was safe. He caught us hungry, moody, sweaty, itchy, bitchy, happy, mad, goofy, every feeling a tightly wound family experiences.

One of our first trips with the new camera was over to Central Park so we could hit all the great statues. Rory and my favorite was Hans Christian Anderson sitting and reading "The Ugly Duckling" to the duck, I thought this was so nice of him. How considerate, writing a story about someone, then reading that story to them. As we walked around Sailboat Lake after the photos I thought, I gotta do that someday.

Next Tuesday, June 14th @ 6pm @ Cornelia Street Café, wonderful storytellers and songsmiths keep up Mr. Anderson’s tradition. “City Stories: Stoops to Nuts” storytelling show presents: Barbara Aliprantis, Nicole Ferraro, Don Piper, Francesca Rizzo and Edward Rogers. Expect to hear stories and songs about transformation. Admission is $7 bills (quack!) with one free drink.

My Best Moments on Earth

There is a certain age where wonderful things that you begin to do a number of times on your own become old hat. The first time I was in Central Park at night as a boy with my father and brother sleigh riding stands out as one of my best moments on earth.

Before we hit Cherry and Pilgrim Hills, we ran around and visited the things we loved, things we never saw in the dark before: Alice in Wonderland, Sailboat Lake, Hans Christian Anderson, and Balto the hero sled dog.

We saw what they saw at night, it was amazing. These images still burn light on the walls of my brain.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?fbid=481355273729&id=541978729&aid=254361

Feeling in an English Beat mood, "I know I'm shouting, I like to shout."

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

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bM0wVjU2-k&feature=related

Things Change, Some Don't

I'm fascinated by people giving the same thing different names. When I was young, Dad called a five dollar bill, "A Pound," he called our chase and capture game, Ringalario, Ringalevio. When I called it Ringalario, he'd get pissed and correct me.

The one place he and I agreed everything had the same name was Central Park. The great sleigh

ride hill on 79th Street was Cherry Hill. The dangerous sleigh ride on 72nd Street was Pilgrim Hill (easy, there's a statute of a Pilgrim on top the hill). The man made pond north of 72nd Street was Sailboat Lake not the crappy formal name, The Conservatory. The lake below the castle next to the Shakespeare theatre was called, Catfish Lake. Why? Dad, Mom, Rory and I fished the lake for catfish, Dad and Mom used Silvercup Bread for bait, Rory and I used Wonder Bread, we always threw the fish back in. Then there was the Reservoir and North Lake, and everything else was part of Rowboat Lake. When I'm in Central Park I get comfort knowing my benchmarks, but also enjoy letting myself go and pretending I'm in the deep woods, just like dad did.