The Utah House

With all due apologies, this week's post is short on neon.  Neon diehards will find some neon news at bottom.  

The recent disappearance of my neighborhood bodega has opened a window into the ancient and somewhat sordid past of the corner of 25th Street and Eighth Avenue in Manhattan.  Last fall, when a 7-Eleven opened immediately next door to Kyung's Gourmet Foods at this corner, one couldn't help but wonder how long the family-owned deli-grocery would last.  Kyung's held-on for about six months before closing up and moving out this past March.  

Summer, 2012. (T. Rinaldi)

Placards heralding a new business appeared under Kyung's abandoned vinyl awning not long afterward.  The new tenant (remarkably not a bank or nail salon, but what looks to be an upscale version of its predecessor) soon set about gutting the space.  As workmen peeled away layers of old storefrontage outside, I eagerly tracked their progress, hoping (as sometimes happens) that they might unearth some long-lost neon relic of a previous occupant.

April, 2013.  Kyung's Gourmet Foods closed about six months after a Seven-Eleven opened next door. (T. Rinaldi)

Alas, no such luck.  Last week, the demo crew hit bedrock - actually brownstone, in this case, the old lintels that support the wall over the storefront.  "Too bad," I thought, and turned to cross the street last Wednesday night.  But wait - what was that?  Faded letters, painted on the masonry: old, flamboyantly-serifed letters, roused from somnolence like One-Eyed Willie's ghost ship after untold decades entombed beneath layers of sheetmetal, vinyl and fluorescent lights.  UTAH HOUSE, the sign said, where Kyung's had dispensed sixpacks and cigarettes until just a few weeks before. 

Utah House exposed, last Thursday (May 23, 2013). (T. Rinaldi)

Minutes later, back home, I punched the words into Google.  No dice - at least nothing salient (the Utah House of Representatives scrambled the returns).  Plan B: nytimes.com.  This exercise, too, would have proved fruitless, but for the NYT's handy "sort by oldest first" feature.  From a series of old headlines, a sketch history of the Utah House emerged. 

UTAH. (T. Rinaldi)

The Utah House, it seems, was a watering hole, meeting hall and hotel that occupied the stout brick building at the northeasterly corner of 25th and Eighth for about seventy years, from the 1850s through 1910s.  A Times writer in 1880 described the premises: "Utah hall is a Masonic hall over the beer department of the Utah House."  Over the course of its long life, the Utah House hosted meetings of striking laborers, political parties, and fraternal organizations.  Some, like the American Legion and the Teamsters union, are still with us today.  Others, like the New York Hay Exchange and the "New-York Lodge of the Growlers," are clearly of a different era.


HOUSE. (T. Rinaldi)

What of the name?  In 1854, when the Utah House first crops up in the Times, the newly-minted Utah Territory was in the midst of a four-fold population boom (says Wikipedia), its numbers swelling from 10,000 to 50,000 in the span of just ten years.  A Times writer in 1880 speculated on a tie to the Latter Day Saints.  The goings-on at 25th and Eighth, however, tended to be a substantially less than saintly nature.  

At 2:30 on the morning of June 28, 1896, the Utah House witnessed the bloody end of one Thomas Thornton.  It seems that Tom had yielded to his mischievous instincts, robbing and assaulting a certain Charles Melander in the shadows of West 25th Street, after rendezvousing with his brother at the Utah's "beer department" earlier in the evening.  As luck would have it, the brothers Thornton quickly found themselves collared by New York's Finest.  Tom resisted arrest and got himself shot.  Said the Times: "he fell on his face dead. . . . 'Tom' Thornton was well known to the police.  He had been arrested several times for intoxication and three times of assault proffered by his wife."

The Illustrated London News' coverage of the 1871 Orange riots included this engraving, which shows the Utah House's painted sign in the same off-center configuration it bore last week. (Illustrated London News / Antiqua Print Gallery)

25 years earlier, the Utah House presided over one of the bloodiest episodes in the city's history.  The Orange Riots of 1871 left 60 dead after ugly confrontations between Protestant and Catholic factions of New York's Irish immigrant community.  As Catholic onlookers began hurling shoes, bottles, stones and bricks at a parade of Protestant "Orangemen" on Eighth Avenue, the police and national guardsmen opened fire. 

 
142 years later, all's quiet at 25th and 8th. (T. Rinaldi)

"The Utah House, on the north-east corner of Eighth-avenue and Twenty-fifth-street, is among the buildings which bear conspicuous evidence of having been chipped by the musket balls," reported the Times on July 13, 1871. "The scene was, in truth, a horrible one.  On the north-east corner of Eighth-avenue and Twenty-fourth-street, where the firing had been hottest, lay the bodies of eight persons who had been shot.  Four of them were apparently killed outright, two being shot through the breast, and one having the back and side of his head fearfully mutilated, as if several shots had struck him.  The other dead person was a woman, seemingly a servant, who had been drawn thither by the general excitement, and had not time to escape when the troops began to fire.  She had fallen on two dead bodies, and lay there with her hands stretched out and tightly clasped over her head, while from a rifle-wound in her forehead her life-blood was slowly oozing.  Of the wounded men, two had been struck in the legs, and another had his arm badly shattered, while one man was vainly trying to raise himself from the ground, whose whole face was covered in blood, while from a ghastly wound in his head his brain was protruding.  The sidewalk was drenched with blood, and the window-panes of the stores on either corner ... were shattered by the bullets."

Happily, the Utah House seems to have lived out the rest of its tenure in relative tranquility.  Its final appearance in the Times came under the headline "Chelsea Old-Timer Dead," on January 18, 1916.   "John S. Lockwood, 70 years old, a familiar figure in Chelsea Village since the civil war, was found dead in his room in the Utah House last night.  Death was due to natural causes.  In 1876 he was reputed to be worth more than $100,000.  Last night the 75 cents found among his effects in his room was believed to be all the money he had."  Lockwood, said the Times, was a Civil War veteran and one-time intimate of Tweed.  On hearing news of his death, a delegation of local political types "visited the hotel, identified the body, and said they would raise a fund to prevent Lockwood's burial in Potter's Field." 

The Former Utah House, c. 1980. (Municipal Archives)

What became of the Utah House after they carried old Lockwood off to the undertaker remains consigned to the shadowy depths of archival obscurity.  The window that brought this odd relic to light seems already to have closed: by Friday, a layer of fresh plywood already obscured the old sign from view once again.  With any luck it will remain there, safely entombed like so many other ghost signs in the strata of the city's commercial archeology, maybe one day to see the light of day once more.

SEE ALSO: 

• Utah House coverage at ENY and at JVNY.

• JVNY on Kyung's disappearance and on 7-Eleven's plot to take over Manhattan.  

• Frank Jump's Fading Ads of New York City (if you haven't already).

IN OTHER NEON NEWS: 

• In keeping with the theme of this week's post: a storefront remodeling in Williamsburg, Brooklyn has unearthed an ancient neon sign that once advertised a Treadwell Shoes outlet.  And, says the owner, this could be yours.  The tubes are gone but the embossed sheet metal is all there.  Interested parties should e-mail me for the owner's contact info. 

(M. Zawacki)

• Good news, for once, from Brooklyn: two of the borough's best old neon signs are undergoing fine restorations.  Stay tuned for more on the relighting of Circo's Pasticceria in Bushwick and the Long Island Restaurant on Atlantic Ave.

(T. Rinaldi)

• Good news and bad news, via James and Karla Murray: Nathan's finally reopened, just in time for Memorial Day.  But we have sadly lost the Olympia Florist up on Broadway and 158th street.

• An upstate downer: the Northern Dutchess Pharmacy in Rhinebeck has closed up shop, taking with it one of the village's two grandfathered neon signs. 

RIP: Northern Dutchess Drugs in Rhinebeck.  (T. Rinaldi) 

• Flynn's Bar and Grill - some long-lost east side neon brought to us by shorpy.com

• Via the Lost City blog, a glimpse at the vanished neon storefront of the Hankow Chinese Restaurant. 

UPCOMING NYNEON TALKS:

• June 19, 2013, for the Lower East Side Preservation Initiative at the Neighborhood Preservation Center.
• July 22, 2013, at the NYPL / Mid-Manhattan Branch.

Google Neon Decoded

Out of the overwhelming response to last week's name-that-sign-challenge, one winner has emerged:  congratulations to Mike Harrison of Manhattan for getting 8 out of 12.   

As it happens, Mike was also the only person to submit an entry, so it's especially lucky that he got the answers right. I myself could guess only 7 of the 12 letters.  

For those who missed last week's post, the challenge was to identify the original signs referenced in two new neon displays in the east and west lobbies of the Googleplex, housed in the old Port Authority building in Chelsea.  A few of these were driving me absolutely nuts, until Jose Troconis at GrahamHanson decoded them for me.  As suggested last week, some are long gone.  Most, however, are still here to be seen:

GOOGLE EAST (EIGHTH AVENUE LOBBY)

G / DOMINO SUGAR - Williamsburg, Brooklyn  

Artkraft Strauss installed the existing Domino sign in 1967-69, replacing an earlier neon roof sign that stood atop the older part of the now-abandoned sugar refinery.  The existing sign is slated for preservation, when and if the proposed Domino condo-conversion ever takes off.

O / COLONY RECORDS – formerly at 1619 Broadway, Manhattan  

This "O" comes from the third generation of neon signs that advertised the venerable Colony Records.  Installed around 2004, this sign hadn't reached its 10th birthday before the Colony closed its doors in the fall of 2012 after some 60 years in business.  

O / TOWER RECORDS – formerly at 1961 Broadway, Manhattan  

"O" number 2 is a reference to the Tower Records logo, a neon iteration of which formerly wrapped the corner of 1961 Broadway, just across W66th Street from Lincoln Center.  Something felt right about having a record store across the street from the Julliard.  Alas, Tower closed in the fall of 2006.  It's a Raymour and Flanagan now.

G / VILLAGE VANGUARD – 178 Seventh Avenue South, Manhattan   

Perhaps my favorite "G" on Earth, the original belongs to a set of equally attractive letters that hang over the Village Vanguard, in Greenwich Village.  The Vanguard's original sign seems to have appeared here sometime in the late 1940s.   The existing sign is a rather good facsimile that faithfully reproduced the lettering of its predecessor.

L / APOLLO THEATRE – 253 W125th Street, Manhattan  

Like the Village Vanguard sign, the Apollo's existing signs are faithful reproductions, whose installation was overseen by the city's Landmarks Commission.  The previous sign and marquee appeared in 1940, replacing highly eccentric incandescent bulb signs.

E / KATZ'S DELICATESSEN – 205 East Houston Street, Manhattan

One of New York's most distinctive "E"s, this geometric beauty comes almost full circle.  Happily, the original sign survives in situ and hopefully will for a long time to come.   Buildings Department records give an installation date of 1935.  Katz's itself is celebrating 125 years in business in 2013.

GOOGLE WEST (NINTH AVENUE LOBBY):

G / MADISON SQUARE GARDEN – Formerly on 8th Ave. between 49th and 50th Streets, Manhattan

A once prominent sign now lost to the depths of obscurity.   This "G" comes from the third Garden's second marquee – that is, the neon marquee installed sometime around 1940 over the main entrance of the 1925 iteration of Madison Square Garden.   Preceded and succeeded by incandescent and fluorescent marquees, respectively, this appears to have been the Garden's one neon incarnation. (Photo via WiredNewYork)

O / JUNIOR'S – 386 Flatbush Ave., Brooklyn

Looks to me more like something borrowed from Coca Cola or Coors, but this "O" is meant to reference that of Junior's, the Flatbush flagship of downtown Brooklyn. (Photo via NYCwithJeff)

O / THE COTTON CLUB – Formerly at 656 W125th Street, Manhattan

The Cotton Club is/was sufficiently famed to earn its own Wikipedia page.  This "O" is borrowed from signs that advertised a latter-day, tourist-trapish incarnation that cropped up in way-western Harlem sometime around 1980.  The earlier Cotton Clubs had fairly robust neon displays of their own, but with less self-consciously "deco" lettering. (Photo via flickr.com/DiegoF)

G / LA GROCERIA – formerly at 333 6th Ave., Manhattan

Judging by some rather heartfelt online eulogizing, La Groceria seems to have been quite the hip, happenin' place in its day, which lasted from the early 1960s through the mid-'80s.  The West 4th Street Papaya Dog occupies the space now, a hip-happenin little place in its own right.  The JVNY blog tells us that changes are now afoot for Papaya and its neighbors.  (Photo via NYU)

L / PEPSI-COLA – Long Island City, Queens

Surely a contender for New York's best-liked sign.  Pepsi has marked the Long Island City waterfront since 1937.  The original sign has actually outlived the building atop which it once stood, a now-demolished Pepsi bottling plant that made way for a battery of highrise condo towers in 2005.   Another tribute can now be found way over across the borough at Citi Field.

E / CLOVER DELICATESSEN – 621 Second Ave., Manhattan

A truly phenomenal sign installed by the truly phenomenal Clover Deli in 1956.  The business itself is older, having opened over on Second Ave shortly after WWII.  The Clover is still alive and well today, under the management of the same family for nearly 70 years.

MANY THANKS to Jose Troconis at Graham Hanson design for decoding the Google Signs.

UPCOMING NYNEON TALKS:

• June 19, 2013, for the Lower East Side Preservation Initiative at the Neighborhood Preservation Center.
• July 22, 2013, at the NYPL / Mid-Manhattan Branch.

  

Name Those Signs, Win Free Book

I recently had an almost unspeakable thrill over at the Googleplex, in the former Port Authority building in Chelsea.  There in the building's east and west lobbies, Google has rendered its six-letter moniker using letterforms borrowed from actual old signs found around NYC. Installed in October and December of 2012, the signs are the product of a collaboration between Graham Hanson Design and Manhattan Neon.  

Google Lobby Neon. (T. Rinaldi)

Do some of these letters look familiar?  As noted above, they're all sourced from actual signs that exist (or once existed) somewhere in the five boroughs.  Think you can name those signs?  The fine folks at Norton have offered one free copy of the neon book to the first person who can identify the original signs sampled for the Google displays.  Some ground rules:

1) Identify the original source for of any eight of the 12 letters used in the two signs.  

2) Submit your guesses via the "Post A Comment" box at the bottom of this post. (If you don't see the "comments" box, try clicking on the headline at the top and look again.)

3) As an alternate, you may submit your guesses by e-mailing me at the address on my CONTACT page.

4) Anyone with insider knowledge of the answers is hereby disqualified and not eligible to win. 

5) Please do not cheat by e-mailing or calling Graham Hanson or Manhattan Neon to ask for the answers!  This is also grounds for disqualification.

6) One book goes to the first correct answer.

Ready, set, name those signs!  Answers to be posted once we have a winner.  Good luck to you!


IN OTHER NEON NEWS: 

• Odd bits of the late great Lascoff's pharmacy have turned up for sale at eBay. Still no sign of the sign.  (Via JVNY and Mike H.)
• Also via the JVNY blog: some good NYNeon of yore, as depicted in the art of Richard Estes (scroll through).
• And still more via JVNY and Gotham Lost and Found: The haunting old pile once home to the Collins Bar is finally coming down, it seems.
• Some Paterson, NJ neon (Kartch's of Main Street) recently over at Shorpy.com
• Good news, for once, maybe: a neon preservation initiative in Dallas, Texas.

UPCOMING NYNEON TALKS:

• July 22, 2013, at the NYPL / Mid-Manhattan Branch.

United States Lines

A slight digression this week from the normal neon fare to visit upon another threatened icon of the New York Landscape.  Over at the Pier 76 tow pound on Manhattan's west side, long-dark neon signage recalls the once formidable United States Lines.  The company's flagship, the SS United States, was a fixture on the New York waterfront from its maiden voyage in 1952 until 1969.  The SS United States exemplified the point-to-point ocean liners that were character-defining features of the city's harbor for decades, until jet aircraft rendered them obsolete as basic transportation in the 1960s. 

Above: US Lines neon at Pier 76, still in situ after all these years.  One of the "I"s came alight each night until a few years ago. (T. Rinaldi)  Below: as often depicted in old postcards, the SS United States were features of the New York skyline for decades.

Remarkably, the SS United States survives today, now one of the very last ships of her kind anywhere in the world.  A nonprofit called the SS United States Conservancy has taken stewardship of the vessel (now idle at Philadelphia) with an eye toward preserving the ship as a stationary historic site, ideally at an underutilized pier in her former home port of New York.

United States neon.  Above: Location unknown, perhaps the company's headquarters at 1 B'way. (R. Garcia/Serota Sign Corp.)  Below: a detail of the signs that once faced out from the ends of Piers 84 and 86, as seen in a 1954 advertisement for Corning neon glass tubes. (Signs of the Times Magazine, used with permission, below)

But time is money, and the Conservancy needs more time – and money – to keep the SS United States afloat until a deal can be struck to re-purpose and restore the ship.  In this season of tax deadlines and Titanic anniversary tributes, please consider making tax-deductible contribution to help save "the most famous ship that didn't sink," a New York landmark in exile.

For now, the SS United States resides at an industrial pier in Philadelphia. (T. Rinaldi)

IN OTHER NEON NEWS:

• Heartwrenching news from the Upper East Side via ProjectNeon - Cork and Bottle liquors has ditched their great old signs for plastic replacements.

• More bad liquor news from Midtown: JL Liquors, on East 34th Street, one of my favorites, has gone LED. 

• I am told that the Manhattan Furrier sign over in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, is a gonner.  Can anyone confirm?

• Now, the good news: the Langdon Florist sign down on Reade St. has been restored by Paul Signs of Brooklyn.

• Stay tuned for details on the pending restorations of the Long Island Restaurant and - yes, at last - Circo Pasticceria signs in Brooklyn!

• "Flickering Light," a new book from author Christoph Ribbat, takes on the whole big crazy history of neon.

UPCOMING NYNEON TALKS:

• RESCHEDULED: my walking tour of Upper West Side neon was mercilessly rained out!  The tour will take place on Weds 5/1/13; see the West Side Rag for details (ignore the date at this link).

• July 22, 2013, at the NYPL / Mid-Manhattan Branch. 

World Telegram

Of all the old signs in New York, the big rooftop spectaculars facing out over New York Harbor have always held a particular fascination for me.  Among these, the old World Telegram sign in lower Manhattan is a particular favorite.  I never saw it in person, but it turns up every now and then in old photographs of the downtown skyline, typically presiding over steam ferry boats, ancient sagging piers, and other long-vanished pleasures of the harbor.

The World Telegram presides over another departure of the Barclay Street ferry, July 31, 1964; (Photo by A.R., T.W. Scull Collection; WSS/PONY)

One day not long ago, having hopped off a boat from Hoboken and marched east through the Irish Hunger Memorial, I glanced up and happened upon a vaguely familiar sight.  The World Telegram is long gone, but there atop its old art deco headquarters building, the steel armature that once held the sign aloft over the Barclay Street ferry docks is still there, a haunting reminder of the lost waterfront.

World Telegram's ghost armature today.  (T. Rinaldi)

Similar neon relics can be found elsewhere, especially over in Long Island City.  But here where so much has changed in the past few decades, where the World Trade Center has come and gone and come again, where Battery Park City has risen over what was once open water, it seems more than a little bit remarkable to find such an odd vestige of the old skyline still with us.  Maybe it's just me, but that old steel skeleton seems to cry out for some big neon letters to once again take their place on the skyline.  Alas, the old World Telegram building no longer looks down over the bustling waterfront, but now sees its own reflection in the glassy facade of the 44-story Goldman Sachs tower at 200 West Street, built over the old Barclay Street ferry slips.

125 Barclay Street, the former World Telegram building, around the time of its completion - no sign yet - c. 1930.    The art deco building was the work of architects Howell & Thomas.  (flickr/CPL Fine Arts and Special Collections)

UPCOMING NYNEON TALKS:

• This Wednesday, April 10, 2013, I'll lead a walking tour of Upper West Side neon, sponsored by Landmark West; we'll meet under the AAA sign at Broadway and 62nd at 7pm and proceed up towards the Dublin House.  Please join if you can.

• July 22, 2013, at the NYPL / Mid-Manhattan Branch

Sacred Neon

It might not feel much like springtime in New York, but with Easter Sunday nigh upon us, the time seems right for an homage to those most sacred of signs.  The classic neon crucifix is a rare sight indeed these days.  Seeking out old signs for the neon book, I could find only about a dozen of them scattered across the five boroughs.  

St. Paul's House, 335 W51st Street, Manhattan. (T. Rinaldi)

Among these, the big neon cross that hangs over the St. Paul's House mission on West 51st Street in Hell's Kitchen is surely the best known.  SIN WILL FIND YOU OUT, it admonishes passersby in particularly in appealing midcentury letterforms from one side; the reverse is emblazoned with the somewhat more optimistic imperative to GET RIGHT WITH GOD.  The existing sign is a surprisingly faithful facsimile of an earlier iteration that had been dark for many years. 

 

New Covenant Holiness Church, 512 W157th Street, Manhattan. (T. Rinaldi)

With its heavily commercial overtones, neon and religion seem rather odd bedfellows.  "We smile, a bit condescendingly, when we see churches bearing signs that promise 'JESUS SAVES' and similar good tidings," wrote the architecture critic Peter Blake in 1964.  But this was not always so.  Electric signs for churches began to appear early on, a response to the glittering marquees of movie houses, bars and restaurants.  Like the overwhelming ornament of baroque and rococo churches of centuries past, the intent was to dazzle the flock into submission, or at least regular attendance. 

 

"Electrical Signs for Church Organizations Rapidly Gaining in Popularity," reported the August 1927 issue of Signs of the Times magazine. (ST Media Group, used with permission)

New York's largest illuminated crucifix may have been one that once stood atop the Seaman's Church Institute in lower Manhattan, which was switched on by President Calvin Coolidge in a ceremony on Good Friday, 1927.  That same year New York Edison tallied more than 100 electric signs for churches in Manhattan below 135th Street alone. 

 

Orthodox Cathedral of the Holy Virgin Protection, 59 E2nd Street, Manhattan. (T. Rinaldi)

The mass migration toward fluorescent-lit plexiglas signs after the 1960s has left precious little sacred neon in New York today. Those few neon crosses that survive are especially appealing not just for their rarity, but because they recall the lost innocence of neon's longago youth, before the signs became so indelibly linked with high consumerism and the film noir world of midway grit as to seem better suited for Saturday night than Sunday morning. 

Father's Heart Church, 545 E11th Street, Manhattan. (T. Rinaldi)

Manor Community Church, 348-350 W26th St., Manhattan. (T. Rinaldi)

Manor Community Church by night. (T. Rinaldi) 

Iglesia de Dios Pentecostal, 563 W187th St., Manhattan. (T. Rinaldi)

Iglesia Gethsemani Pentecosta, 112 E104th St., Manhattan. (T. Rinaldi)

Bethel Baptist Church, 265 Bergen St., Brooklyn. (T. Rinaldi)

Trinity Assembly of God, 138 Henry St., Manhattan. (T. Rinaldi) 

Washington Temple Church, 1372 Bedford Ave., Brooklyn. (T. Rinaldi) 

UPCOMING NYNEON TALKS:

• April 10, 2013, at Landmark West (details forthcoming) 

• July 22, 2013, at the NYPL / Mid-Manhattan Branch

The Class of '33

The City of New York issued exactly 3,400 permits for illuminated signs in Manhattan in the year 1933, according to records housed downtown at the Municipal Archives.  Of these, I could find only three that survive today.  By those odds, we can deduce that illuminated signs in New York have about a .08% chance of seeing their 80th birthday.  So, as the outpouring of centennial tributes to Grand Central Terminal continues to flow, I thought it only right to salute these signs that have defied unbelievable odds to survive into their ninth decade.

The Dublin House, then-and-now. (T. Rinaldi, top; Signs of the Times, January 1934, below / ST Media Group, used with permission)

Best known of the new neon octogenarians is undoubtedly the big, beautiful neon harp outside the Dublin House bar, at 79th and Broadway.  Many admire this sign for its distinctive shape, which was sufficiently novel to earn it a small feature in Signs of the Times magazine when the sign was brand new.  The blurb identifies the sign's maker as E.G. Clarke, Inc., for many years one of the city's most prominent sign shops.  Eagle-eyed admirers of this sign will note that the lettering TAP ROOM at its base is an alteration; the 1933 photo reveals the sign's original copy (which read RESTAURANT).  

Keller's then and now.  (T. Rinaldi, top; NYPL, below) 

A lesser known member of the class of '33 resides on the facade of the old Keller Hotel, at the foot of Barrow Street in Greenwich Village.  Keller's and its sign are covered in greater depth in an earlier post on this blog.  The sign is the work of the once-prominent Beacon Neon Sign Co. of Manhattan.  It survives today but just barely, its tubes long gone and its hand painted sheet metal having donned a particularly enchanting patina.  The building is Landmarked, so whatever happens to the sign will be regulated by the city's Landmarks Commission.

The Odeon today (above) and in its original guise as the Towers Cafeteria (below). (T. Rinaldi, top, Signs of the Times, October 1933, below / ST Media Group, used with permission) 

Further downtown, the Odeon restaurant boasts what may be the most interesting of the new neon eighty-somethings.  The long-vanished Astor Sign Co. originally installed this display for the Towers Cafeteria. The sign remains in basically the same form today, though it was partially re-lettered in 1980 when the restaurant below re-opened as the Odeon, a fashionable French bistro.  In the neon book, I describe Towers-to-Odeon transformation as a watershed moment in the life and times of New York neon, when old signs like this went from the status of "yesterday's trash" to objects of nostalgic fandom.  Ironically, it also presaged the urban revival that later meant the disappearance of old signs like this and the veteran neighborhood institutions they advertised.

Display Ad for the Aster Neon Sign Co. from the 1935 Manhattan classified telephone directory. (NYPL) 

Beyond these, there are a few other old signs for which I could establish no date of creation, but that clearly appeared sometime in the early 1930s.  These include the very lovely sign of the Spruce Florist in Chelsea; the Boulevard Tavern, in Greenpoint Brooklyn; and the Point Pharmacy up on Hunts Point Ave of the Bronx.  Still, for signs like these, the odds against multi-generational survival remain staggering to say the least.   

 
Odeon-ex-Towers neon at 80. (T. Rinaldi)

IN OTHER NEON NEWS:

• If you haven't yet picked up a copy of Ilona Karwinska's superb book entitled Polish Cold War Neon, this short BBC video feature will send you running down to St. Mark's Books post-haste. 
• Whoa, technology - Fontly, an app for smart phones, pinpoints old signs near you. Rather like the Project Neon app but for all kinds of signs, world-wide. 

UPCOMING NYNEON TALKS:

• April 10, 2013, at Landmark West (details forthcoming) 

• July 22, 2013, at the NYPL / Mid-Manhattan Branch