Havana Neon

Last week's amazing Polar Vortex struck me as an opportune time to break out this post, which I've been sitting on for a while.  In fact, it's been exactly a year since I jetted down to Havana.  A pretty good time of year to head south from New York, no doubt, but it was the neon, not the warmer climes, that I was after.


Havana Neon, circa 1930.  (Claude Neon News, c. 1930 / NYPL)

We all know about Cuba's fleet of ancient American cars.  What I wondered was what might remain of Havana's old neon signs.  A little bit Paris, a little bit Vegas, and a lot South Beach, Havana was a city that positively glittered with neon before the Cuban revolution in 1959.  But how would all of that commercial glitz fare under communist rule?


Sloppy Joe's neon.  (Claude Neon News, c. 1930 / NYPL)

As I researched the neon book, articles on Havana Neon kept cropping up old trade publications, including one feature in the Claude Neon News showing the island capital bathed in neon in the early 1930s.  From little neonitos packed into the narrow streets of Habana Vieja to huge rooftop spectaculars that beamed out over the Caribbean, Havana must have had some of the busiest sign shops in the world. 

"New Schenley Spectacular in Havana" - rooftop spectaculars beamed out over the Malecon.  From Signs of the Times Magazine, July 1947. (ST Media Group, used with permission.)  

Of course, all of that changed after 1959.  Those big roof signs, most of them advertising the fruits of American capitalism (such as can still be seen rolling down the calles of Cuba today) are long gone now.  But Havana's culture of neon was so firmly entrenched that it survived the island's not-so-smooth transition to a socialist economy.  

The narrow streets of Habana Vieja were literally jammed with neon signs, as seen over Burl Ives' shoulder in this screen cap from the 1959 film "Our Man in Havana."

One need look no further than the monumental neon-lit figure of Che Guevara that has presided over Plaza de la Revolución since the late 1960s.  Some establishments that were renamed for political reasons in the 1960s (especially Havana's many movie houses) had their new names emblazoned in neon.  So while precious little survives of Havana's once resplendent neon streetscape, there is more than one might think.

"Bomba Atomica," a manufacturer of water pumps and coffee machines.  Signs of the Times, September 1954.  (ST Media Group, used with permission.)

A few signs have even been preserved (or at least replicated), such as those at the historic Floridita and Sloppy Joe's bars in Habana Vieja.  But like most other parts of the world, the general trend is definitely not in neon's favor.  Signs that had were still there within a year of my visit had vanished by the I got there.  Some of them, like that of the old Hotel New York, had just crumbled.  Others simply no longer light up.  And a handful have even been retrofitted with LEDs.

Signs of the Times Magazine, September 1954.  This article featured the work of sign companies Anuncios Cape, Anunciadora Opalina and Luz Neon. (ST Media Group, used with permission.)

So take a pretend break from this wild winter and head down south where the neon was fine and the weather still is.  If this isn't enough to thaw you out, please also check out other photos from my Havana trip at my flickr page.

HAVANA NEON

Havana is teeming with amazing old movie theaters, most of them still functioning.  Many, like the Yara, received new, nationalist-themed names after 1959.  You'll find them interspersed in the photos below.

Cine Yara (ex-Teatro Warner Radiocentro) / Calle L 363, Vedado, Havana

The Castro government imposed new names on many of Havana's main thoroughfares as well.  These include Avenida de Galiano, a main commercial strip that straddles the border between Habana Vieja - the city's historic core - and Centro, the "new" downtown developed around the last turn of the century.  A number of neon relics still linger here.   

La Internacional / Avenida de Galiano, Centro, Havana

Fin de Siglo / Avenida de Galiano, Centro, Havana

El Palacio de las Novias / Avenida de Galiano, Centro, Havana

Gentry, Avenida de Galiano / Centro, Havana

El Gallo, Avenida de Galiano / Centro, Havana

One of the finest art deco theaters you'll find anywhere in the world, the Teatro América was Havana's answer to Radio City Music Hall. 

Teatro America / Avenida de Galiano 253, Havana

Hotel Lincoln, Avenida de Galiano, Centro, Havana

La Oasis, Paseo del Prado, Centro, Havana

El Megano (ex-Cine Capri) / Calle Industria 416, Havana

Cine Payret / Paseo de Martí, Prado 503 - 513, Habana Vieja, Havana

Restaurante El Baturro, Avenida de Bélgica, Habana Vieja, Havana

Puerto de Sagua, Avenida de Bélgica, Habana Vieja, Habana

La Pina de Plata, Calle Obispo, Habana Vieja, Havana

Hemingway's old hangout, the Floridita, bills itself as the "cradle of the daiquiri."  It's a complete tourist trap now but an obligatory stop-off nonetheless, especially for its neon.   

El Floridita / Calle Obispo at Avenida de Bélgica, Habana Vieja, Havana

La Gran Via / Calle Neptuno (?), Centro, Havana

Hotel Plaza Havana / Ignacio Agramonte No. 267, Habana Vieja, Havana

Restaurante Cafeteria Wakamba / Calle O btwn Calles 23 & 25, Vedado, Havana

I made some of my favorite finds on the south side of Centro, an off-the-beaten-path tangle of old streets near the big railroad yard behind Havana's Estación Central, 

Las Americas Ferreteria / Calle Aguila (?), Centro, Havana

La Industrial, Avenida Máximo Gómez / Centro, Havana

El Mundo de Las Maravillas / Calle Monte, Centro, Havana

Cine Favorito / Belascoain 809, Havana

Cine Cuba / Reina (?), Centro, Havana

Casa Bella / Belascoain, Havana

The Vedado district's great old Riviera theater seems to have lit up in the not too distant past, but like many others it was out cold by the time I got there.

Cine Riviera / Calle 23 No 507, Vedado, Havana

La Pelota / Calle 23 a Calle 12, Havana

Cafeteria 12 / Calle 23 a Calle 12, Havana

Restaurante Varsovia / Calle 12, Vedado, Havana

Teatro Mella (ex-Teatro Rodi), Linea 657, Vedado, Havana 

Hotel Sevilla / Animas, Habana Vieja, Havana

Back in Habana Vieja, Sloppy Joe's bar - perhaps best known for its role in Graham Greene's "Our Man in Havana" - was in the midst of a heavy-handed embalming during my visit, which apparently included a facsimile of its old sign.  Compare the repro with the original (above).

Sloppy Joe's / Zulueta 252, Habana Vieja, Havana

Shades of South Beach are clear in evidence at Meyer Lansky's Hotel Habana Riviera, built just before the Revolution.  A finer specimen of late '50s hotel architecture you'll find almost nowhere.

Hotel Habana Riviera / Paseo y Malecon, Vedado, Havana

Cine 23 y 12 / Calle 23 No. 1212, Vedado, Havana

Somewhat farther afield in Miramar, the massive Karl Marx was the more (or less?) colorful Blanquita before 1959.

Teatro Karl Marx (ex-Teatro Blanquita) / Avenida 1ra No. 804, Havana

Cine Milan (La Rampa) / Calle 23 (La Rampa), Vedado, Havana

Bar Cafeteria La Red / Calle 19 No. 151, Vedado, Havana

Taken from the window of a '48 Dodge: the Cosmos-ex-San Carlos, at Calle 60. 

Cine Cosmos (ex-Cine San Carlos) / Avenida 19 at Calle 60, Havana

Scattered around town, some newer signs suggest that Havana's neon trade is still alive, if not exactly flourishing:

El Balcon del Eden Bar Restaurante / Calle K No. 361, Vedado, Havana

Restaurante de Cameron / Linea 753, Vedado, Havana

But here as everywhere, LEDs are coming.  Back where we started, next to the Cine Yara, the big roof sign of the Hotel Habana Libre is probably Havana's most prominent LED retrofit.

Hotel Habana Libre / Calle 23 at Calle L, Havana

The missing S and R reveal that the nearby Salon Rojo, too, has been LED-ed.

Salon Rojo / Calle 21 betw Calle O and Calle N, Vedado, Havana

Back in Habana Vieja, the Hotel Inglaterra sign had been converted within the year prior to my visit.

Hotel Inglaterra, Paseo de Martí 416, Centro, Havana

Los Amigos Paladar / Calle M No 253, Vedado, Havana

And perhaps the most startling convert of all:

Comandante Ernesto 'Che' Guevara: 'Hasta La Victoria Siempre' / Plaza de la Revolución

El Comandante himself, right on the Plaza de la Revolución. The uniformed man with the big gun standing in Che's shadow wash't keen on letting me look behind Che's reverse channels.  But peeking out from behind them, a stray diode confirms that Che and Castro's Cuba have outlived the neon century.

Che's stray LED. (T. Rinaldi)

SEE ALSO: 

Check out my other photos from Havana over at flickr.  They're sorted into these galleries:

•  Assorted
•  Cars
•  People
•  Signs
•  Neon
•  Terrazzo


REFERENCES: 

"Claude Neon Bright Spots in Beautiful Havana."  Claude Neon News, c. 1930
"New Schenley Spectacular in Havana." Signs of the Times Magazine, July 1947
"Signs - The Cuban Way."  Signs of the Times Magazine, September 1954.

Salvation Neon

The whole flu shot thing sounded a bit tenuous to me, so I decided to skip it this year.   Well folks, not a good idea: I have rung in 2014 mired in the throes of what the Italians call "l'influenza."  The silver lining here is that I now have plenty of time to get caught up with my neon blogging.  

The following was to have been my holiday-themed post: an homage to the lovely Salvation Army neon on 14th Street in Manhattan.   A simple sign, but one of my favorites.  Alas, rare is the sighting of this sign alight.  For years, in fact, I'd assumed it had burned out fatally, been given up for dead.  Then one night, rushing across town to meet a friend for a few beverages at Johnny's Bar on Greenwich Avenue, there she was, ablaze in all her glory.  

The Salvation Army HQ: 120 West 14th Street, Manhattan. (T. Rinaldi)

I could never pin down a fabrication date for the existing sign: its simple letterforms and stainless steel channel letters over a red porcelain enamel "prism"-type box suggest a mid-1950s installation.  Old photos show what appears to be an earlier neon sign of roughly the same configuration in the same spot, with somewhat jazzier lettering that must have gone well with the Salvation Army's great art deco headquarters building behind it, the work of architect Ralph Walker.  So keep an eye out as you cross town at the 14th parallel, for this great white whale of New York neon. 

The Salvation Army HQ: 120 West 14th Street, Manhattan. (T. Rinaldi)

Oh, and next year, let's maybe all get our flu shots.  A happy Neon New Year to all.

IN OTHER NEON NEWS: 

•  Not New York, but - surely one of the most evocative neon Shorpies to date.

•  Another neon shot from Shorpy, less evocative but closer to home: Wanamaker's (and Miles Shoes, and Miller's, and Woolworth's) in Great Neck. 

•  More So-Cal neon appreciation from Debra Jane.

•  Via my friend Kett Murphy: a short and sweet audio interview on Faythe Levine and Sam Macon's book Sign Painters, from 99 percent invisible.

•  By way of Lorne Covington: lots of neon at this year's Art Basel in Miami.  

•  Portland, Oregon has lost its "Wentworth Chevytown" sign.

Lights Out 2013: Signs We Lost This Year

Not to be a big debbie-downer right in the middle of the holidays, but - behold, the signs we lost in 2013.  I was all set to write up a little story on the recent disappearance of the Apple Tag and Label signs in Long Island City, when I figured "what the hell" - let's do 'em all.  

Since I started keeping tabs on New York's old neon signs for the neon book, I've found that the signs disappear at a rate of about a dozen each year, on average.  That statistic holds for 2013.  Some great signs vanished this year.  From Harlem's Lenox Lounge to U-Haul's wanton destruction of the huge Eagle Clothes sign in Brooklyn ... here they are, for the record.  Read'em and weep.  

Lenox Lounge, 961 Lenox Ave., Manhattan

Installed c. 1948.
A heartbreaking loss, the Lenox Lounge sign was pulled down in the midst of a bitter dispute over the closing of what had become an iconic Harlem institution.  Word is the venue is set to re-open under new ownership, perhaps with a replica of the original sign.

Hinsch's Confectionery, 8518 5th Ave., Brooklyn.  
Made c. 1948
Excruciatingly lost over the summer with a heavy-handed renovation of this veteran Brooklyn soda fountain.

Cork & Bottle Liquors, 1158 1st Ave., Manhattan.  
Made c. 1940 (vertical); 1971 by Laster (horizontal)
Replaced by new LED signs that roughly approximate their predecessors.  

Eagle Clothes, 213 6th Ave., Brooklyn.  
Made 1951 by White Way Neon
Trashed this summer when building owner U-Haul announced plans to build atop the former Eagle plant in Gowanus, Brooklyn.

Charles Street Garage, 97 Charles Street, Manhattan.  
Made c. 1962
Vanished to make way for a generic, Helvetica-emblazened, plastic-faced replacement.  

Tad's Steaks, Times Square, 701 7th Ave., Manhattan.  
Made c. 1975
Tad's had been on this block since the late 1950s, making it one of the very last real hold-outs of the "old" Times Square.  The signage likely dated to the late '70s, when Tad's opened up in the former Loew's Mayfair Theatre building.  Sadly, the Times Square Tad's got the boot this year when the landlord began vacating the historic theater in preparation for its demolition, now in progress - also quite a bummer.

Tad's Steaks, 34th Street, 152 W34th St., Manhattan.  
Made by Atlantic Sign Corp., c. 1964
Tad's dished out broiled steaks from this East 34th Street storefront, across the street from Macy's, from 1964 until it closed earlier this year to make way for a Croc's store.

Bernard F. Dowd Funeral Home / 165-20 Hillside Ave., Jamaica, Queens.
Made by Grauer Sign Co., c. 1984
A pair of real classic signs that first went up at this Queens funeral home in the 1950s, and were re-lettered in the 1980s after an ownership change.  

R.H. Macy Co., 441 7th Ave., Manhattan.  
Made c. 1948
There was neon in them there stainless steel reverse channel letters.  They're all gone now, lost in the course of Macy's $400m renovation.  

JL Wine & Liquor (formerly Goldrich Wines), 60 E34th St., Manhattan.  
Made 1950
Lost to make way for a plastic-faced LED replacement sign.  

Apple Tag & Label
Sadly, the big roof signs over the old Apple Tag & Label warehouse have not survived the building's ongoing residential conversion.


St. Charles Garage, 403 East 60th Street, Manhattan.
Shot down this year, as reported by James and Karla Murray.

AND THE ONES TO WATCH IN 2014:

Gallagher's Steak House, 228 W52nd St., Manhattan.  
Made c.1936
Gallagher's closed earlier this year, after 85 years in business.

Olympia Florist, 3799 Broadway, Manhattan.
Made 1950.
This Hamilton Heights florist bit the dust after about 100 years in business.   

Back Fence, 155 Bleecker Street, Manhattan.
Made 1946.
RIP to the back fence bar, which held down this Greenwich Village corner from 1945 until this autumn.  

D'Aiuto Bakery, 405 8th Ave., Manhattan.  
Made 1960 by Grauer Sign Co.
D'Aiuto closed this fall, reportedly for "renovations," but has yet to re-open some months later.  

Hotel Neon: The Hotel Arlington

A short post this week, what with the table nearly set for turkey this Thursday.  There's not much to say about the old Hotel Arlington, on West 25th Street just off Madison Square, at least not that I could discover from a little light Internet prowl.  No sordid tales of hookers and whores, no spooky basement bath-houses, no two-timing floozies ending their days here in some torrid tryst gone awry.  

"Beautiful Old Hotel with Neon Sign in New York."  (Nicole DiMella / photos.com)

Surely no old New York hostelry worth its salt is without its share of such tales, especially those that sported big old flickering neon signs over their doorways, as the Arlington once did.  But I'll leave those for someone else to find, and dwell instead on the Arlington's bygone place in New York's neon landscape. 

"The Brickbuilder," 1904.

The Arlington began life back in 1901-02, as an "apartment hotel" designed by architects Israels and Harder.  I chanced upon an old photo of its especially handsome brick and terra-cotta facade in a tattered back issue of a trade publication called "The Brickbuilder."  Its construction and ownership history is thoroughly detailed over at Walter Grutchfield's amazing web site, 14to42.net. 

"The Brickbuilder."

Like any number of once-fashionable hotels on the side streets around Madison and Herald squares, the Arlington became an SRO by the 1980s.  As recently as a few years ago, the term "SRO" was as much a part of the New York vernacular as "stoop" or "schlep."  These days I find myself constantly having to define the term whenever it rears its head in casual conversation with anyone under the age of 35 or so. 

"The Brickbuilder."

In a 1998 story on their already-waning numbers, the New York Times neatly summarized the SRO phenomena in two sentences: "Home to prostitutes, drug addicts and the mentally ill, single-room-occupancy hotels are often seen as a blight, dragging down neighborhood property values. But with tenants paying an average of $426 a month, according to a 1996 city study, S.R.O.'s have also long attracted artists, factory workers, single women, students and the elderly poor."

By the 1980s, increased demand for Manhattan hotel rooms led many SROs, including the Arlington, to re-convert back into conventional tourist hotels.  This of course led to the displacement of all those prostitutes, artists, etc.  

The Arlington in 2005.  (Walter Grutchfield)

When Mr. Grutchfield visited upon the Arlington back in 2005, he found its neon "HOTEL" sign still in place, over a marquee emblazoned with Han characters.  "The Chinese seems to say Ya Ning Dun Jiu Dian (Pinyin): Elegant Peaceful Pause Hotel," writes Grutchfield at 14to42: "or, the first three characters could be Ya Ning Tun (Wade-Giles) - i.e., Ar-Ling-Ton in transliteration."

The Comfort Inn Chelsea in 2012.  (T. Rinaldi)

By the time the Arlington figured into the backdrop of my daily commute in 2009, its neon herald had made way for signage better suited for the Interstate than the side streets of New York.  Its former name survived Chinese translation, but couldn't survive the new world order of 21st Century-New York. Now known as the "Comfort Inn Chelsea," it has 3.5 stars at Yelp, though one Chris B. of Boxborough, Mass bemoans its "carb heavy" free breakfast: "we walked to the NY Racquet Club for non-dairy smoothies."

THIS IS THE SEVENTH in a series of stories entitled "Hotel Neon," exploring the unique resonance of neon hotel signs in the American psyche. See also: 

• Hotel Neon, Part 6: The St. James Hotel

• Hotel Neon, Part 5: The Penn Terminal Hotel

• Hotel Neon, Part 4: The Keller Hotel

• Hotel Neon, Part 3: The Cavalier Hotel

• Hotel Neon, Part 2: Hotel Neon

• Hotel Neon, Part 1: The Chelsea Hotel

• Hotel Neon, Introduction

SEE ALSO: 

• Walter Grutchfield's Arlington run-down at 14to42.net.

• A visit to the Arlington at the Ephemeral New York blog.

• "Checkout Time?" The NYT on SROs in 1998. 

IN OTHER NEON NEWS:

• A neon holiday shopping guide from ProjectNeon ~ there's a certain neon book available, if you haven't picked one up yet!

Riverside Liquor Co.

If I hadn't called up Riverside Liquors to ask them about their sign while researching the neon book, I'd have never known the quirky history of this particular sign that makes it one of my favorites in New York. As the sign's age suggests, Riverside has been an Upper West Side institution for a long, long time.  When the shop moved to a new location this past summer, the sign came with them.  It now shines from a new perch, at 2728 Broadway, just below 105th Street. 

Riverside's neon raceway sign at its new perch.  (T. Rinaldi)

What one wouldn't know to look at it is that this isn't the first time Riverside and its big neon LIQUORS sign have moved.  Until around two decades ago, the sign hung over a storefront at the southeasterly corner of Broadway and 105th Street, about 100 feet from where it is now.  And - more interesting - it originally belonged to a three-part set that included two horizontal raceway signs and a big vertical display that hung over the corner.  

Riverside's intermediate home, until this past summer, on Broadway between 105 and 106.  (T. Rinaldi)

The sign can be seen its original configuration in the city's circa-early-80s tax photos, now housed at the Municipal Archives.  The vertical sign featured a revolving time-and-temp display at its base.  People headed to work in the morning would set their watch by that clock, recalled John of Riverside, who answered the phone when I rang them up.  Buildings Department records suggest an installation date of 1955 for Riverside's neon triptych. 


105th and Broadway, wreathed in neon in the awesome eighties. (Municipal Archives)

Though the tax photo shows them half-dimmed in classic neon dysfunction, John remembered the signs for their reliability:  "Them things never went bad, not in all the years I worked here," he told me.  When their building at 105th and Broadway went co-op around 20 years ago, Riverside relocated half a block further uptown, taking just the LIQUORS sign with them.  There the sign and shop stayed until this past summer, when they moved again to their current location.

Inasmuch as New York's old neon signs are metaphors for survival against the odds, Riverside and its old sign say it loud and clear.  Stop by, pick up a bottle of something to thaw those frozen toes in these cold, dark months, and raise a toast to neon and perseverance.   

IN OTHER NEON NEWS: 

• On the subject of old UWS businesses shuffling signs and storefronts, check out this gem posted a few weeks ago at the Ephemeral NY blog.

• Another one down: via James and Karla Murray, news of the disappearance of the St. Charles Garage sign, by the Queensborough Bridge.

Neon Sketchbook, Part II

Picking up where we left off two weeks ago, here is the second of two installments of neon sign sketches I made as part of the project that eventually became my book, New York Neon.  As those of you who saw Part I of this series may remember, none of these sketches ultimately made it into the book.  C'est la vie.  As it happens, I think the book came out fine without them.  But just so it wasn't a totally wasted effort, I thought I may just as well post them here on the blog. 

In Part I, we made the rounds of various liquor establishments, and admired those signs that contrast script and block letterforms.  Let's kick-off Part II at the movies:

ABOVE: Paramount Theatre, 560 Bay St., Stapleton, Staten Island (Gone); RKO Keith’s Theatre, 117-09 Hillside Ave., Richmond HIll, Queens; Variety Theatre, 110 Third Ave., Manhattan (gone); Earle (Eagle) Theater, 73-07 37th Road, Jackson Heights, Queens, made c.1939 (gone).

Sadly, New York City has almost no historic movie theater neon left in any of the five boroughs, though movie houses were one of the great bastions of neon signage for most of the midcentury decades.  The marquees depicted above were about all I could find to sketch when I began this project in 2006.  One of them - the Variety - was in fact already gone (I sketched it from good photos I found online).  The Earle (aka the Eagle) lost its marquee a few years ago, and the Paramount's marquee has unfortunately been altered beyond recognition.  The RKO Keith's was still there at last check, although - as you may have noticed - it's entirely incandescent, not neon.  

A paltry handful of vertical signs for old theaters survive, too:

ABOVE: Loews 175th, 4140 Broadway, Manhattan, made 1930 probably by Claude Neon/Strauss Sign Co.; Loews Coney Island, 1301 Surf Ave., Brooklyn, made c.1938 probably Claude Neon/Artkraft Strauss (gone); Loews Post Road, 3475 Boston Road, Bronx, made in 1939 by Artkraft Strauss; New Amsterdam Theatre, 214 W42nd Street, Manhattan, made in 1937 by Artkraft Strauss (altered 1955).

But these haven't fared well either:  the old SHORE sign didn't make it through Hurricane Sandy, and the Loew's POST ROAD and 175th Street signs are both relics in need of restoration.  Only the New Amsterdam Theatre sign on 42nd Street survives with a bill of good health.  This excludes, of course, for the Radio City Music Hall signs, which are well-enough documented that I skipped them for this exercise.  

So much for the movies.  This next bunch defies categorization, so we'll go into hodge-podge mode for the home stretch.  First, with some fascia signs:

ABOVE: Faber’s Fascination Arcade, 1230 Surf Ave., Brooklyn, made c.1948 by Silverescent (gone); Frank’s Fish Market, 4230 Broadway, Manhattan, made c.1949 (gone); Maryland Furniture Store, 911 East Tremont Ave., Bronx, made c.1957 by Grauer Sign Co.

Then, with some vertical signs:

ABOVE: E94th Street Garage, 231 E94th St., Manhattan, made c.1937; Barbetta Restaurant, 321 W46th Street, Manhattan, made in 1931; C.O. Bigelow Drugs, 414 6th Ave., Manhattan, made c.1938; Hinsch’s Confectionary; 8518 5th Ave., Brooklyn, made c.1948;  Hotel New Yorker, 481 Eighth Ave., Manhattan, made 1939-40; Keller Hotel, 150 Barrow St., Manhattan, made in 1933 by Beacon Sign Co.; Lascoff Drugs, 1209 Lexington Ave., Manhattan, made in 1931;

Nathan’s Famous, 1310 Surf Ave., Brooklyn, made c. 1930 Neergaard Drugs, 454 5th Ave., Brooklyn, made c.1950 by Silverescent; Veniero Pasticceria, 342 E11th Street, Manhattan, made c. 1945;

Truth be told, most of New York's surviving vintage neon is pretty modest compared to the old signs one finds in places like Los Angeles.  (I go into the reasons for this in the neon book.)  But we still have a handful of signs that are impressive works of the signpainter's skillful hand.  I've always been particularly drawn to the bold, distinctive silhouettes of swing signs, like these:

ABOVE: Crown Caterers, 4909 13th Ave., Brooklyn, made c.1949 (gone); Famous Oyster Bar, 842 7th Ave., Manhattan, made c.1960; M&M Pharmacy, 1901 Avenue M, Brooklyn, made c.1936; Theatre 80 St. Mark’s, 80 St. Mark’s Place, Manhattan; Village Vanguard, 178 7th Ave. South, Manhattan, made c.1945.

How amazing to think that this handful of signs represents an infinitesimal fragment of the many thousands of signs installed over the storefronts of New York during the glory years of electric signs.  As they continue to disappear, if nothing else, we'll have these sketches to remember them by.

IN OTHER NEON NEWS:

•  S&G Gross Loans by Penn Station appears to be undergoing its demi-centennial makeover: at last check, the porcelain enamel facade had been pulled off its 3-story facade, but the great vertical neon sign was still there. This is probably the city's most picturesque pawn shop of yore - here's hoping that neon survives.

•  Speaking of gross - some totally awful news from Yonkers (via Rob Yasinsac): Curry Chevy has completely destroyed its museum-piece dealership, including its great ensemble of neon.  This was hitherto a truly outstanding, 100% intact c.1958 car dealer.  What a goddamn shame.

•  If you're looking to brush up on your neon tube bending skills, look no further than neonstreet.com, which has recently updated its listing of neon schools nationwide.

•  Good news, for once (though not neon related) - the "Ideal Hosiery" building down on the Lower East Side has been landmarked.  Someone looked at the facade over that great signage and realized this building is a substantially intact 1833 row house.  Any changes to the signage will require the blessing of the Landmarks Commission - one wonders how the commission will interpret the significance of handpainted mid-20th century signage on a federal style residential building.

•  More neon (and other) treats from SoCal, via Debra Jane Seltzer.  Check out the San Fernando Relics Museum!

•  Good news from Greenpoint!  The Greenpointers neon documentary made its funding threshold and will be going into production.

•  From Jim and Karla Murray, a look at one of my favorite neon relics: the Berkeley Coats-Suits-Dresses sign in Brooklyn.

•  Enjoy a whole wagonload of other neon news links over at ProjectNeon.

Neon Short

I'm diverting from my scheduled post (which was to have been Part II of last week's post) in order to plug another NYNeon-type project I learned of recently: a 15 minute documentary film that will look at where the signs are made and how they fit into the identity of the city.  

Rosemary's Greenpoint Tavern. (Jen Galatioto)

Jen Galatioto over at thegreenpointers.com blog has launched a kickstarter online fundraiser to see the project through.  Their deadline is this coming Sunday (kickstarter requires a project to meet its target in order for it to receive funding).  The film would feature an interview with yours truly – obviously, this will be a blockbuster, if they get the funding!  Have a look and help them out (before Sunday) if you like what you see and you’ve got a few $$ to spare.

Regularly scheduled posts to resume next week.

IN OTHER NEON NEWS: 
 Looks like we're about to lose another one: Home of Cheers Liquors, at 18th and 8th in Chelsea, has apparently lost their lease.  

Home Of Cheers. (T. Rinaldi)

They're moving to 9th Ave - will their signs follow?