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12/31/05: KICKING IT IN THE HEAD

I'm ending Forgottenblog after 3 years. Still quite busy preparing the book, writing a big FNY page every week, trying to assemble ForgottenBoston, working 2 part time jobs, and soon will have to look for full time work in earnest, or at least in Flushing. Also, the truth is, my naive ramblings occasionally embarrass even me, to tell you the truth, as well as my face when I am photographed. I'll continue to link so you can read 3 years' worth and try not to laugh.

Goodnight Mrs. Calabash, whoever you are.

12/11/05: IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING

No, I'm not going to the Times Ledger Christmas party next week, mostly because the paper's owner decided to start barking at me this year like the kitchen help after 9 years of ignoring me.

12/10/05: IF ONLY THIS WORKED EVERY TIME

So, I'm sitting on the #7 a few weeks ago, and one of the Mariachi Brothers (one of three costumed guys playing bad Mexican music who bother subway riders every day) gets on, takes up a position right next to me, strums his gee-tar,opens his mouth and...

I say "oh, shit..." in a not-so-sotto voce tone...

..and the Mariachi Brother takes his guitar and stalks out of the subway car in a huff!

If only my critiques were that effective on every subway performer. As I used to say in the 60s, if I wanted a floor show, I'd watch Hollywood Palace.

11/19/05: SCENE OF THE CRIME

Today I was in Clove Lakes Park in Staten Island, the scene of my first Forgotten NY foray 40 years ago. My father and I were visiting the park and my mother, who usually accompanied us, stayed home. I was 8. I got the urge to go wandering, so wander I did, in the vast park's numerous woodsy paths. I lost track of the time and was gone for a couple hours. Finally, I started making my way back to where my father was. But I was interecepted by a park cop and my father, who was looking for me. He was pretty mad, and always said that's one of the very few times he gave me a good paddling. I don't remember it; perhaps the mind has a way of blacking out unpleasantness like that. Really, it was my first foray into urban discovery. I couldn't have been happier. I was by myself; no one could order me where THEY wanted me to go, and I followed my nose where it took me. Soon enough, I'd be cycling Brooklyn and by high school, Queens and Long Island as well. But I can be thick. It never occurred to me to bring a camera and get all of it captured on film until 1998, so much of what I saw from the 60s into the 90s has utterly disappeared without anyone's recall.

11/1/05: BACHELOR APARTMENT

In the kitchen, magazines, papers, condiments, cleaning materials and medications are all within easy reach on the table; in the bedroom, magazines and books are available without your webmaster having to actually get up to retrieve them.

I'm often told the place needs a woman's touch.

Believe me, I've tried everything. I've made meals, tried strategic romantic lighting and rented Usher CDs to play on the stereo.

But I've never been able to get a woman to hang around long enough to clean up the place.

10/16/05: RIP ZEKE'S

It's official: I went by the old Zeke's Roast Beef site at 8th and 66th in Bay Ridge the other day, and it's become a Chinese restaurant, a sitdown place with table service. The neighborhood has become mostly Asian during the last 20 years.

It begs the question: why can't an Asian neighborhood support a roast beef and hamburger palace? If not, why not?

When I lived in Bay Ridge I worked nights and I'd be in there every Monday night, no matter what, for a pre-work repast. Even after I left Bay Ridge, I'd go to Zeke's whenever I found myself in the neighborhood, since my father and my dentist were still there.

I don't like Chinese food, so I won't be haunting the old joint.

It wasn't a toothache, it's some sort of nasty infection. I'm taking pills by the fistful.

10/13/05: I DEMAND A RECOUNT

So my Cool Site of the Day rating was 6.4 something out of 10. I mean jeez, people.

I despise toothaches, and I have one till my dentist appointment Saturday. It's in a spot covered by a bridge, so it probably needs a lot of work.

9/29/05: THEIR OBSESSION

Many NYC "photobloggers" are infatuated with street art, or as the squares say, graffiti. I devote one page (out of hundreds) in FNY, but most of it's crap, pretty much, and a blight. I've no explanation for their fixation, other than that it is illegal and you're sticking it to The Man when you support it.

By the way, after using firefox for a few days, it's slowed down, too. I have a machine ancient in computer years: 3.

9/28/05: SUDOKU

Sudoku, the number puzzle now appearing in every newspaper in the world, is impossible to solve.
I know, because I've tried. Twice.

9/23/05: THE END OF NIEDERSTEIN'S

Arby's is tearing down historic Niederstein's, a roadside tavern/restaurant built in the 1850s on Metropolitan Avenue in Middle Village. Christina wrote the Arby's guy a little note after attending a Juniper Park Civic Association meeting. Write him yourself, his email's right at the top.

From: Christina M. Wilkinson
To: jkrolick@arbys.com
Cc: Bob Holden ; Dennis Gallagher
Sent: Thursday, September 22, 2005 11:18 PM
Subject: Demolition of Niederstein's Restaurant

Mr. Krolick,

I attended a meeting of the Juniper Park Civic Association tonight. Much to my disbelief and dismay, we were told that you feel that the demolition of Niederstein's Restaurant is not an issue to this community. I can assure you that the community feels very much to the contrary.

To you, Niederstein's may seem like a dilapidated nuisance standing in the way of your business. To us, it is a community landmark and worth saving. Niederstein's was the oldest restaurant on Long Island. The former stagecoach stop and hotel was directly responsible for the founding of the surrounding community of Middle Village, the community in which you seek to establish a franchise. We embrace our heritage here instead of ignoring it.

In order for your restaurant to be successful, you will need the support of this community. You were negotiating with our representatives, JPCA President Holden and Councilman Gallagher. They offered a compromise for your consideration, but you didn't even have the decency to inform them of your decision before obtaining a demolition permit. Then you had the audacity to tell the councilman that the community wasn't complaining about it and that we would be first in line for free coupons! Why would you think that those two gentlemen would be spending so much time and effort fighting for preservation if the community didn't care? How dare you presume to know this community when you won't even come to our meetings?!

I, for one, will not be patronizing your establishment, and I can think of hundreds of others that won't either. As many a business and politician has come to realize, it is much better to have the Juniper Park Civic Association as a friend rather than as an enemy. Just ask Home Depot, Walgreens, 7-11 and Congressman Weiner!

Yours truly,

Christina Wilkinson

9/19/05: THE BIG NEWS...

Is that I have switched to Firefox as my go-to browser after 11 years with Netscape Navigator. I was as loyal as I could be for the longest time, but I tired of the pop ups and the slowness. Firefox is usually lightning fast and it also assumed all the bookmarks and passwords I had in Netscape. I also use Safari, the Mac browser, since it has bookmarks Firefox didn't assume. But as for Netscape, like Donald Trump has said, and has been said to me too many times...

"You're fired."

9/12/05: ALL I REALLY WANT TO DO

Newsday is jammed full of ads for houses and cars. Who can afford houses or cars? Even when I was working, I saved $700 a month. But I could never afford even a 3-room condo without accruing a lot of debt, which I refuse to do. If I wanted a used car I could get one.

I am blessed. There really isn't much that I want. I could use financial security, which would mean getting a job where they would let you do the exact same thing for thirty years. My father had such a job, as a custodian at Stuyvesant Town. For the employee, there's nothing wrong with that business model. But over the past ten years, the people who run the show have gotten wise to the fact that giving annual raises to people who do the exact same thing every day isn't adding to profits: in fact, it's eating into them. As a result, people of middling talent, like your webmaster, have to compete with young, "multi-tasking" go-getters, the type Trump uses on The Apprentice. And lose.

I want to do the same thing, as best I can, every day. I want a niche. I don't want to work 12 hours a day. Life isn't for work. Work is for life.

My unemployment insurance has run out. Welcome to real life.

9/2/05: N.O.

After looking at the TV reports Thurs evening, looks like it will be quite awhile before normalcy returns; some commentators Thurs afternoon seemed overoptimistic. Congress should pass a temporary mandatory service law or something, and get people in there, secure the area and start helping these people. I wouldn't call the Guard back from Iraq, these guys need a break. I'd get them back home for a breather first and then send them to LA.

I have no idea why a worst case scenario for a N.O. hurricane wasn't considered and why a better plan wasn't in place. General incompetency from federal to state to city levels.

It's not unPC to suggest that this is worse than 9-11. Not an act of war, a natural occurrence, but NYC was not wiped out, millions without power, shelter and food.

I am also thinking of the lines of vehicles escaping NO on Saturday & Sunday, fully mindful of the poor that could NOT escape. No doubt some of these people were doctors, nurses, trauma experts, engineers, technicians, care providers, could have stuck around and provided some help. Looks to me like they ran like dogs and left the poor to their fate. If they stayed they would have been in deadly danger but when you take a job like that, it's what you sign on for.

Some day our little civilzation will end, our United States will be gone. Could be next year, could be in a thousand years. This is likely what it will look like, a descent to anarchy and violence.

Nero fiddled and the Prez gee-tared. I dunno, if I was in charge and I knew on Friday that there was a monster headed this way, I'd be in Washington with the cabinet coordinating a response. That's just me though.

8/19/05: KEV, DON'T EAT IT

New York is a city in which you can get practically anything to eat; every possible cuisine is represented. While surfing around, I see dozens and dozens of food blogs out there.

I eat about five or six things that I like. Eating is among the chief pleasures of my life, but I only eat what I like, which is pretty much pizza, chicken, hamburger or other beef once or twice a week, pasta, and fish filets when I can find good ones. I like salads. I'll have Mexican or Indian food when I eat out.

I don't understand the appeal of most of the food I see from the depiction or descriptions in the reviews and blogs; I'd rather stick to what I know and like, for comfort. If I get through a day without having eaten something I like, I don't think the day is complete and I feel dissatisfied. So I eat what I know.

The doctor says I have slightly high cholesterol and high normal blood pressure, which can be resolved by modifying my diet. I have no idea how, though, since I'd have to give up things I like. It would be like purgatory. I don't smoke and drink hardly at all; and don't see why I have to be purgatorialized. I resent it. I have added more vegetables and fruits, switched to lowfat milk, and will try to cut out so much pizza. Hope that works.

Publishers Clearing House Prize Patrol: Bill Brown, winner Ross Goodfellow and Denise Sarracco, 1998

8/6/05: DENISE SARRACCO (1967-2005)

I attended the funeral of my friend Denise Sarracco this morning. She was 37 years old and had bravely fought breast cancer for the past eighteen months. Her variety proved beyond the doctors' means to control.

I met her in 1992 when I was assigned to layouts and mechanicals at Publishers Clearing House, and Dee (as her friends called her) and me shared an office for the next few years. She was as nice a coworker as you could ask for and we got along swimmingly. She loved working at Publishers Clearing House, joining at age 19 in 1987 and remaining there 14 years in a variety of roles, working her way up to art director by the time she departed in 2001 to join Doubleday Bookspan. You can tell by the above photo that she was tickled pink to represent PCH in their Prize Patrol promotion, in which employees volunteered to ride out to different parts of the USA to present the 'big check' to prizewinners. Dee was beautiful inside and out. One of my best quips when I was at PCH came on my last day in 1999, when I got laid off with about 300 other people, including many of her best friends at PCH. She came to kiss me goodbye and I got her to laugh on a sad day when I said, 'Dee, I've been waiting for this for 7 years.'

Over the past 18 months she has shared with me and other friends the hope and despair that came from fighting a very insistent form of breast cancer. Her missives were generally hopeful until June, when she related that the cancer had come back and was worse than ever. Finally she was moved to a hospice, where she had dozens of friends visiting every day while she had the strength. Her friend Jessica brought a pot bellied pig for her to play with: Dee was an avid animal lover and a competent equestrian, winning some prizes in jumping. She faced her final days knowing she was loved, by her husband Roland and her family but also by everyone who worked with her and met her.

Her family has requested that you donate to the American Cancer Society, with your contribution stipulated for breast cancer research. Call 1-800-227-2345 or send to 6800 Jericho Turnpike, Syosset NY 11791 and mention Roland Sarracco's name so a letter of confirmation can be sent to her family.

We must do everything we can to eliminate this foul disease. It got my mother, too.

8/2/05: BOOK REPORT

I'm about 90 pages into The Fountainhead. I have 100% of Howard Roark's integrity, with none of his talent.

7/27/05: FORGOTTEN M.O.

I cannot pigeonhole what I do as 'photoblogging' because most of the photobloggers prefer to let their pictures do the talking. My photos work as illustration to my text; I use them to make clear what I want to say about the ever-vanishing classic NYC streetscape. My attitude, while going around town taking pictures, is wary, suspicious, and furtive. I am not confrontational, but I am always ready to engage in battle with homeowners who suspect me of shooting their persons or their homes secretly, as if I am casing the place for a robbery. I am always prepared to engage cops or transit workers who cannot believe that I am shooting in subway stations for their esthetics alone, not to scope out the platform to plant weapons.

In short, my attitude is that no one wants me or my camera around, and while I am always aware of a potential confrontation, it gives me a defiant attitude that serves me well; my few victories in my 47 years have had their genesis in standing up to those who say, 'you can't' or 'how dare you.' That's why I relish in those few negative emails I get about Forgotten NY and eagerly anticipate having my book panned when it comes out next year. I have engaged in loud, heated confrontations with benighted bastards in dozens of neighborhoods, in a 'proud rage' to use Pete Townshend's self-analytic phrase after he kicked Abbie Hoffman off stage at Woodstock.

I rarely photograph people when doing FNY; they tend to clutter up the shot and take the emphasis away from what I'm trying to show. And, I know I'd get mostly negative responses if I did ask people to appear in the pictures. That's why many successful 'photobloggers' are women, since I know quite well that a woman with a camera will receive a much softer response than a man. If I did require lots of people in my shots I would be sure to have one of my female friends along.

Beastly, isn't it? In future, better centuries, people will be able to hibernate all summer.

7/22/05. HILLARY CLINTON, PLAYA HATER

Hillary doesn't want the kiddies looking at violence and sex in Grand Theft Auto. Guess who Salon sides with in this one.

http://www.salon.com/tech/feature/2005/07/22/grandtheft/index.html
(Requires password; get a day pass)

'It's only a video game' they whine. Yeah, it's a game that tells kids rape, robbery and murder is cool.

>>>By going out on this anti-pop culture limb, Clinton looks desperately out of touch with young people<<<

I don't want to get in touch with the idiots who get off playing games like Grand Theft Auto.

I've been saying it for years. When you depict criminals in popular literature the only place for them to go is the pokey. Not a romanticized view that it's fun committing crimes.

Salon, you're losin' me.

7/18/05: A PLACE I'LL NEVER BE


I dunno, one night in Paris is like a year in any other place, as 10CC would say. If I was ever in Paris I dunno if I'd ever wanna go back.

7/17/05: YELLOW

I shouldn't admit it but I fear many things.

I am envious of people who can travel. I read a great many blogs and this time of year, they recount the trips they have taken to Hawaii, Ireland, Japan, wherever. The last time I was on a plane was 9/6/01, just a couple of days before 9/11; I have not been on a plane since. And, even though I can afford a used car, I won't drive. Just don't want to get messed up in a crash. So, when I do travel, I go places I can get to by train. Lately, I have not wanted to spend the money; but since I'm getting stir crazy here, I might take a trip to Boston, which is where the new Forgotten site will be opening soon.

Thank God I came along too late for the draft. I greatly fear death and would have been ineffective in a war. I fear illness; I fear running out of money. I am not afraid of the dentist, since tooth disorders can't kill you.

7/16/05: GREY DAY

Spent the day Thursday at Grey Advertising. They have a nice view from the 37th floor, and I was given a lot of work that lasted me just about all day, which suits me just fine. What I want out of a job is to be given a big stack of work in the morning, be left the f!ck alone to do it the rest of the day, and enough money to pay the bills. That's not what bosses or potential employers want to hear, but there it is.

6/27/05: PRIVATE PARTS

I've noted with indignation Gramercy Park's nonpublic access rule. It turns out that in London, there are quite a few parks available only to a few.

6/11/05: BRING IT ON PART II

Just saw a fawning interview of Alannis Morrisette on WABC. I couldn't stay with it, it was so fawning. Alannis, if you recall, was the first girl to drop the F-Bomb on a pop record in 1995, which remains her chief claim to fame. I was twirling the knob because the New York Jokers were taking an 8-1 loss, and the New York Clowns were losing 12-2.

When the Forgottenbook comes out, I want skeptical, hostile interviewers. I want them to ask me why on earth would anyone want to read this book. After all, it's about the NYC no one wants to visit or see. Oh, boy, am I ready.

6/5/05: TWILIGHT TWIST

As the world prepares for the Sci-Fi Channel's July 4th Twilight Zone marathon, I'd just like to comment a little on Rod Serling, who died 30 years ago.

Twilight Zone was a wonderfully creepy program, acted and art-directed to a tee. But Rod was an insufferable moralist who I'd have a major problem with. He seemed to think that aberrant behavior -- any kind -- was a weakness to be punished. Shelly Berman wishes more people in the world were like him. When he wakes up, well, everyone is Shelley Berman. Larry Blyden loves to gamble and live the good life. After he dies, he can't lose. Every time he plays, he wins, and every sweetie he meets loves him. Of course, Sebastian Cabot informs him he's in hell.

I despise extraneous, unnecessary noise. Of course, the whole world, especially males age 5 to 35, loves to make noise. Blast the car horn, gun the motor, turn the ipod up to 10 or whatever it is on those things, yell on the cell. Rod, unfortunately, wouldn't commisserate.

Rod would strike me deaf.

6/5/05: JUST DESSERTS

I was called a motherfucker today by a cretin at a LIRR ticket machine after I let him have my spot. I cut in front of him, but hadn't seen him. So I told him to go ahead of me, somewhat annoyedly. I stole his mad and took it for my own. So he accused me of a horrifying act.

Now, there's a real New Yorker.

5/23/05: TAKE THAT, COL ALLEN

Don't miss My Friend Dawn™'s new Daily News column about blogs. Here's the first one. On her very first day at the News a couple of weeks ago, Dawn proposed a photo feature for Forgotten NY; Frank Jump and I collaborated on a page featuring some of NYC's ghost wall ads.

5/19/05: BRAVE NEW CRAP

I'm watching TV and there's this commercial with an Allman Brothers soundtrack (no new music is being written for commercials anymore) and there's this guy gabbing into some device or other they're advertising, on the street. He's wearing a suit and tie, so he's some kind of big shot. You see him at this business lunch, and there's this plate of what look like toys, all lined up in neat rows; they're eating sushi. The commercial ends with the guy getting to the emergency room meeting the wife just in time for the birth of his new baby that he learned about from his device. I felt a distinct sense of "disconnect" looking at this commercial, a sense of really being in the wrong year.

There's this life out there that has left me in the dust. Now, if I wanted to catch up, I suppose I could. I could get all these devices, mobile phones, text messagers, ipods. I'm just not interested; the stuff leaves me cold. I don't want constant "connection"; I want it on my terms, when I choose to be connected. That means a phone in the corner of the room with a cord on it, that I have to walk over to in order to use, and an answering machine to screen out the telemarketers. My home is now my haven from these people and their machines.

The devices' stated purpose is to keep us "all connected." When will they come up with an arrangement that will let me keep my privacy and get me home on the train in peace and quiet? When will the barriers go up again? Is that cat out of the bag, never to return? Is that horse out of the barn? To use a couple of formerly practical analogies...

5/15/05. I'M TOO UNIQUE

eHarmony can't help me. Here's what they came back with after I filled out their forms:

>>> eHarmony is based upon a complex matching system developed through extensive research with married couples. One of the requirements for successful matching is that participants to fall within certain defined profiles. If we find that we will not be able to match a user using these profiles, we feel it is only fair to inform them early in the process.

We are so convinced of the importance of creating compatible matches to help people establish happy, lasting relationships that we sometimes choose not to provide service rather than risk an uncertain match.

Unfortunately, we are not able to make our profiles work for you. Our matching model could not accurately predict with whom you would be best matched. This occurs for about 20% of potential users, so 1 in 5 people simply will not benefit from our service. We hope that you understand, and we regret our inability to provide service for you at this time.

You can still receive your free Personality Profile by clicking here.<<<<<

Well, the Personality Profile was spot on, actually.

Mary Beth says: "You didn't tell them about your childhood bus trips with the pencil, light bulb and caulking gun, did you? The two hundred and thirty eight pairs of black dungarees? The CD case shaving mirror? TV dinner tray tableware? Your golf jackets dating back to the Beame administration?"

5/5/05: LILEKS: THERE IS NO SUBSTUTUTE

>>>[My ex girlfriend's] house still stands; it’s still ugly. For that matter the house where I heard the basement band is still there, but when my father moved off the block this year he cut the cord. He was the last man from the old times, and he took our memories with him. No one on the block remembers anything I remember. There’s nothing unusual about that. It’s the story of every house, every day, every moment, every one.<<<

It's like that when I go back to Bay Ridge: gradually, everyone and everything I knew there is going away. That plays a role in Forgotten NY as well. The kids I went to school with and was tortured by are all gone, the teachers are dead for the most part (my long-time dentist is still there: always a need for them) and even most of the businesses along 5th Avenue and 86th Street have changed a dozen times over. Zeke's Roast Beef, the Green Tea Room (was the room green, or was the tea?) Frank, the butcher, Loft's candy, the Sportsman bar, Dyker Theater, the liquor store on Gelston (the only business fronting there). Did they ever exist, were they ever there? They may as well not have been since there are no echoes of their presence now. (There's no echo of mine, either; I never again darkened the door of St. Anselm's School after I left due to the rough treatment I received there from classmates and teachers alike). Nostalgia is not necessarily a happy feeling about times gone by. It is a feeling of connectedness with a time and place, even if they treated you poorly. That is part of what fuels FNY. The things that are still there despite the caprices of fashion and nature.

4/28/05: BRING IT ON

I don't get a lot of Forgotten hate mail. Most people enjoy things in here, and I'm happy with the situation. But I think the true test of a site is how much it's disliked, actually. I got a note from a guy in Red Hook who wote about how much he hated what I wrote about what I see there. I applaud him for speaking out. I also got a comment by a Hoboken bad speller who didn't like my page about the 6th Borough.

I'm also sampled in a site called stumbleupon.com. While everyone in there likes the content, I'm constantly regaled in there by comments about how the design sucks, it's ugly, it's not polished, etc. You can't email the criticizers, either, as I'd just love to do. You can't answer them. Look, I'm not going to use templates like blogger or Movable Type. All the sites produced with their templates look alike. I've also taken a look at Movable Type and you have to be a programmer to understand it. I have a camera, I point at stuff and shoot, then write a few words. That's all I want to do.

But that's OK. I miss the criticism. I want you to write me if you HATE Forgotten NY. Bring it on. Let's chat.

4/19/05: LIVING IN THE PAST

It was 75 degrees today, so I broke out the light golf jacket. I bought it in 1993, I wear it about 20 days a year, and it fits me just fine after 12 years. I have a suit in the closet I bought in 1999 for a wedding. I wear the thing about 5-6 times a year, more in years where I have to go on interviews for work and do the suit wearing thing just to be safe. It still fits. Why buy another one? I have a shirt in my closet I bought from Robbins' Mens and Boys on Myrtle Avenue in 1988 or so. Not frayed at all even though I wear it once a week when it's cold. I have bought stuff from J Crew or Land's End that wore out in four years. I have stuff that's so old it's extinct. Even my apartment is a Forgotten NY page...


IPod, schmeye-pod. Breakthrough design, eh. Here's a 1980s-era Radio shack thermometer alongside a Sony Watchman Brian gave me in 1984. It gets me through blackouts and vacations where the hotel room doesn't have a TV. It eats batteries like I eat pizza though.
		This is the only kind of telephone I'm ever going to use. It's got a cord attaching the receiver to the phone, meaning you have to sit or stand next to it, not carry it on buses or trains and bother people.

When I can't pay my electric bill any more, I can still write Forgotten NY since I have a device that doesn't need to be plugged in at all.


I still have a lot of equipment I used before 1992, when I did layouts and mechanicals before we did them on computers. It was really an art calling for precision and a steady hand. I keep them around to remind me what I used to do for a living.

My handy dandy Argus slide viewer. I have hundreds shot between about 1958 and 1972.			This hung in my father's apartment for over 40 years. He could never tell me where this scene is. Anybody know? Those are piles of pictures for the Forgottenbook.
			My bedroom is Forgotten. The side wall is slanted: I'm told a stream ran this way when the building was constructed in the 1920s, a property line ran along it and so the building was built with the slant.

Near the bedroom ceiling there are two wood slats on opposite sides. Apparently a board once ran across the room just below the ceiling line. Why? You got me there.
			Evidence exists all over the apartment that there were a lot more doors than there are now. I'd say most of the doors were removed since they presented a fire hazard or inconvenience, though the safest place you can be in a fire is behind a closed door.
	Older apartments like mine had 'dumbwaiters': mini-elevators on ropes you pulled with a gloved hand. You placed your garbage on it and sent it to the basement, where the super would dispose of it. I suppose the supers' union made some work rule changes, since most dumbwaiters stopped working in the 70s and got painted over. We had an intercom put in in about 1994 but the older buzzer can be seen underneath it.

4/11/05: WHAT WE'RE LOSING, WHAT WE'VE LOST


The Long Island Rail Road's East Williston station, built in the 1880s, was deemed unsafe; the MTA's decision was to raze it rather than shore it up. RIGHT: The Long Island City smokestacks of the former Penn Station power generating plant will be soon coming down. The building is going condo and again, it was considered more 'prudent' to tear down the towers rather than rehabilitate them.

4/7/05: LIGHTNING STRIKES BUT NOT OFTEN ENOUGH

It hasn't exactly been an annus mirabilis for your webmaster. I haven't been quite as busy as I'd like, hence the increased Forgottenblog activity. I took a buyout from the world's biggest store in November; what they wanted to do was put me in a department where they knew I would fail and then dismiss me without further compensation, so I accepted the other choice. I actually don't miss the place; I did not forge the emotional connection with it that I did with the world's biggest direct mail operation I worked for in Port Washington in the 1990s.

However I haven't been idle. In January of 2004, I signed a contract with HarperCollins to write a Forgotten NY book, I have been working on it since, and have just about finished the original writing process. We are now busy editing the book, and soon to follow is the process of choosing what photos to use (all of the hundreds of pictures in the book will be mine as well), and the book will probably see a mid- to late 2006 release. I thank my editor at HarperCollins for choosing my project and getting it approved. We will work toward making it the best book possible and there will be a lot of material exclusive to the book, including 75% of the photography. Keep watching FNY for release dates, tour dates, etc. next year; it should be fun.

I am in a forced period of transition. I am not sure what I will be doing other than the book in the immediate future, though a intriguing possibility is seeking work as a tour guide aboard one of NYC's sightseeing lines. My own diffident personality, however, has stopped me from doing more numerous ForgottenTours; I don't know if I can do a tour every day. Employers have been resistant to my resume. Till work comes, consider adding a small amount to the Amazon donation box that you'll find at the bottom of the index page and the top of all the subject pages (STREET SCENS, LAMPS, etc.)

I am nowhere near poverty, but if FNY has to go away for awhile, which is by no means necessary in the immediate future, I'll let you know.

4/5/05: I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY'S WATCHING ME

Forgotten NY was on the WB11 (Channel 11) news Monday night. They copped some images from one of my REAL SUBWAY pages and slapped a very small credit on the picture. Of course, they never let me know they were going to do that, so I never saw it.

I'm still trying to extract a promised $150 from NYPress for the three shots they used in Prospect Cemetery for a September 2004 story.

4/2/05: A NATION TURNS ITS BACK AND GAGS

You know, really, Forgotten NY is the only thing that gets me out of bed lately, at least while I'm between gigs. I work on the Forgottenbook all day, surf a bit, sometimes surf too much. The weather hasn't really been alright to really exercise, walk or bike. This week I was in Staten Island shooting scenes for the book, dealing with the Astoria Historical Society (I'll be doing some stuff for them) and waiting to hear back about a job.

3/14/05: YOUR WEBMASTER PREENS

My friend Dawn Eden, she of the faith friendly Dawn Patrol website, has had to take knocks from the 'established media' who don't agree with her of late, as DP becomes more widely read and more popular. Christopher Hanson of the Baltimore Sun writes: "Case in point: "The Dawn Patrol," Manhattanite Dawn Eden's preening report on Dawn Eden, iconoclastic neoconservative "petite powerhouse," illustrated with Dawn Eden glamour photos." Oklahoma blogger Charles Hill has decided to have a little fun with it, and will be printing preening blogger pictures on a page from his own site, dustbury.com, as part of the Annoy Christopher Hanson Campaign, so I decided to help him out. Charles can use any of these preening pics of your webmaster that he wants:



As Tom Verlaine put it, 'aint that nothin'

2/26/05: EASY TO BE HARD

One of the dividing lines of hipness is the favicon, which is that little symbol next to the URL, or web address name, of your website on a browser. They are devilishly difficult to produce, which is why if you have one, you mark either your computer-savviness, or your knowledge of someone who is. Forgotten NY, of course, has no favicon.

2/26/05: MADE A LOT OF STOPS, ALL OVER THE WORLD

Everyone's traveling. Except me. Who the heck can afford to travel? I just spent 5 nights in Staten Island, for Pete's sake, on a Special Top-Secret Forgotten NY Project, and at $69 a night, which is a pretty good price, with tax it cost me $415. I been everywhere, man, as long as you can get there with a metrocard.

You know what, there's a printing press hidden someplace and that's where everyone's getting the money. Nobody has told me where it is.

2/26/05: WTF?

Jake Dobkin, co-creator of Gothamist, says on his own site bluejake:

"I often make fun of my friends for "conspicious socializing"- that's where you go out to some hip place, with some hip people, and then dodgeball your location, and then flickr your photos. You can make it even worse- say by sending out an Evite with a public invite list, or one of those group emails with the public cc's."

What the !!ck is he talking about? (You need to see his links, which pertain to some sites where you send pictures with cellphones, but I still don't know what he's on about. Besides, I believe cellphones should all be thrown into the sea, along with many of their users.)

2/25/05: DOGS AND CATS IN CLAY PIT POND PRESERVE, STATEN ISLAND


I'm not a big nature guy but I do enjoy settings where the natural world is in close proximity to urban settings; Clay Pit Ponds Preserve, at the end of Staten Island is one of those.

2/16/05: DICK WEBER

When I was a kid the old man and myself could always be found in front of the TV Saturday afternoons at 3PM between January and April to catch the PBA--the Pro Bowlers Tour. They'd play all week, and the top five guys would go at it on the TV finals: #5 would play #4, the winner would play #3 and so on, announced by the great Chris Schenkel, accompanied by Billy Welu, and later by Nelson Burton Jr. The next day, we'd go to Leemark Lanes on 88th Street to try it ourselves. Now, I was never any good. I could never master a hook; I always threw it straight, which meant frequent splits. My spare conversions were atrocious as well. I could never get it to over a 150 average, in 3 leagues in 20 years trying. One day, my father, using his inimitable style...he approached the foul stripe like Elmer Fudd creeping up on Bugs' rabbit hole...tossed a 256, with a borrowed ball. I was flabbergasted... my lifetime best turned out to be 213.

Watching play on Saturday afternoons, though, I was always struck by Dick Weber, who passed away this week. Like Joe D. or Derek Jeter, he made it look easy, with an easy stroke with no wasted motion. When I started watching in 1967, he was on the down side (his heyday was between 1953 and 1963) but he was still good enough to win a few tournaments. His son Dick Jr. has turned out to be an even better bowler than his dad -- but, he's a product of the modern era, which means that his game is full of intimidation and histrionics. Bowling isn't on TV much anymore, though even now I know the game's big names... Walter Ray Williams, Norm Duke. But another icon of my youth has gone.

2/12/05: CHRISTO KID

Bulgarian-born pop artist Christo likes to cover stuff in other stuff. This February, he and wife Jeanne-Claude have decided to cover Central Park in orange shower curtains, as he has been trying to do since 1979. This year...he finally did it. We can't get the Second Avenue Subway, but we can get this...so getcher Cristo on:


From 18th Floor, TimeWarner Building, Columbus Circle



Special thanks to Tom Wilkinson for access to the TimeWarner center! New York Times on the Gates Christo's site Flickr photoblogs

2/12/05: UGLIEST BUILDING IN NYC

Co-Op City in the Bronx. Good gosh...what goes on in here? Looks like it's straight outta the Soviet Union. Forgotten Fan Charlie Gallo says it's nothing more than an enormous cooling tower.

2/3/05: I QUIT, MR. TRUMP

I watched The Apprentice for the first two seasons, but as I watched, my dislike grew for the bloated, carrot-thatched billionaire; George, his hostile henchman; Carolyn, his bitchy, judgmental henchwoman; and most of all for the money-grubbing, hedonistic Apprentices. So, Mr. Trump, I quit.

I still like Survivor, though, since some of the contestants still seem like real people.

1/31/05: SURE, HE'S A COMMIE, BUT HE'S MY KINDA GUY

You can always tell a man by his record collection. My father left a couple of hundred albums behind. Most are now residing in my cousin's basement, while I kept a few dozen I especially liked. My father's collection had a lot more Lawrence Welk and James Last albums than any one person should own, but the old man could surprise you. There's Jim Kweskin; over there's Dylan; over there's Joan Baez. He was quite upset when the Beatles' "White Album" mysteriously disappeared. We never did find out what happened to it. I think my father felt an obligation to inspect different genres out of his own curiosity, some stuff that he wouldn't necessarily play for fun. His tastes ran from Scottish-Irish to easy listening with a heavy pop-country bent. Think lots of Jim Reeves. Think Pete Seeger, too.

I suspect that Pete, who is still very much around, and my father would not have much to talk about. Pete's a Communist, pretty much, the idealistic wing of the movement rather than the Joe Stalin massacre wing, while my father was a man whom the term "rock-ribbed" was coined for, though he got disappointed with Nixon when he turned out to be a crook. My father owned two Seeger LP's, We Shall Overcome: Live at Carnegie Hall and Greatest Hits, and it wasn't just out of intellectual curiosity, either: he played the grooves off 'em. And both are wonderful records: no one who heard "Guantanamera" could fail to be moved by it, even if he's Dick Cheney. I suppose the fact that he interrupted all those Jimmy Shand jig and reel workouts and found room for a card-carrying Red made my father the kinda guy he was. I hope some of it rubbed off on me.

1/27/05: MAMA!

I thought of my mother this evening. Dead for over 30 years now. Truly unfortunate she kicked at the young age of 58. I don't know what she would make of me today, to be honest. 30 years ago, I was a teenager and my 'persona' had not yet jelled. For better or worse, whatever legacy I leave to the world will be as a connoisseur of the detritus, junk and unnoticed elements of a lost New York. I'm not sure that's the path she envisioned for me, but then again, my parents never discussed a career path with me. I can only speculate what my mother would have thought of the choices I made. I floated through school, learning just enough to get by, so while I've had regular work all these years, I have never made much. Since I never spend a lot, either (no trips, rent-controlled apartment, eat from delis and pizza places) I have saved quite a bit over the years despite the minuscule salaries. But now my path of least resistance will be challenged, since I was laid off in November, and I may have to go back to school for new skills in the present job market. My occupation, at present, is full-time writer, since I'm working on the Forgottenbook. Eventually, though, I am going to have to sit in a cubicle again, possibly deal with a nightmare boss as I did at Macy's, and do something uninteresting, so I can afford to buy food at delis. The whole dog and pony show with the suit, the portfolio, and the false chipper attitude begins tomorrow.

1/24/05: DON'T EAT THE YELLOW SNOW

Images post- Blizzard 2005. I wanted to keep these big...you need a wide screen...if you don't have one please scroll over:


My bedroom			159 Street

Oak Avenue			Kissena Park

Kissena Park			Kissena Park

159 Street			159 Street

Oreo ice cream, Kissena Park			Mocha, 157 Street

Kissena Park			Kissena Park

1/17/05: ONE E-MAIL KIND OF PEOPLE

Welcome to Year Three. Noticed something lately...I've been hearing from people, but only once. I'll get an email from someone I haven't heard from in awhile, and I'll pass along a well thought-out response (at least I think it's well-thought out), and then...nothin.' It's a growing list. It even includes a cousin. I can't believe my responses are that inane.

It's been going on for some time. Do some people have a hierarchy of emails they'll answer, i.e. the preferred list gets a dialogue, while the "B" list just gets the obligatory answer, and that's it? That would be plausible were it not for the fact that I'm not the instigator of the curtailed communication! After all, they contacted me first. If they didn't want a dialogue, why bother getting in touch with me in the first place? Arrghhh.

FORGOTTENBLOG YEAR ONE!

FORGOTTENBLOG YEAR TWO!