The three of us wound up in a booth meant to barely fit one person, passing a bottle. We fed quarters into a slot and a corrugated metal screen went up, revealing an enormous and gap-toothed woman without a top snoring atop a three-legged stool. The manager picked up a long, thin stick, opened a hidden door, and prodded the woman in the side. She burst into vivid life, wriggling and gyrating even before she had fully opened her eyes. When she finally did see us, her eyes goggled. "Oh, snap," she said. "What you want to see?"
“I still think New York, despite its negatives, is the most exciting city in the world. But it’s the not the city it was, or the one I came to. New York then had this whole lot of Euro-trash that was very colorful, and there was the Warhol scene. Also, it had a literary world that seems not to exist now. In those days you could go to Elaine’s and writers would just hang out and smoke.”
Jonathan Lethem’s The Fortress of Solitude was heralded as an Important Novel. Yet no critic or essayist has confronted it’s central theme: an exceptionally candid obsession with blackness in the white mind. Mingus, the central black character, is the story’s only true love, blackness its only beating heart. This is the most important work on race in 50 years — since Invisible Man — and no one has bothered to notice.
New Yorkers should know better than to take seriously an argument which asserts that “the real foreign threat is not terrorism; it’s that we may make creative and talented people stop wanting to come here.”
What stood out from Mayor Mike’s rather lengthy list of his accomplishments, real and otherwise, were the two subtle but unmistakable cracks at his predecessor, Rudy Giuliani, who no doubt casts a big shadow.
Sante is such a good stylist, in fact, that it is hardly noticed that he does not merely describe, but implicitly glorifies the century-old equivalents of the South Bronx housing project or the Brownsville crackhouse and their attendant pathologies.
In expanding his notion of cool cities and the creative class to embrace the entire world, Florida takes his one oversimple idea and spins it out into 315 pages.
These photos, less famous than the subway shots that became Many Are Called, but nearly as impressive, were taken in the Summer of 1938 on 61st Street between 1st and 3rd Aves by Evans for the WPA.
In the upside down world of New York, the new school money is more likely to prove the straw the breaks the state’s fiscal back — and brings the city down with it — than it is to have much effect on education.
As much as any high school couple, Gotham's pigeons expose their exploits to all who share their metropolis. On subway platforms, parks and crowded midtown streets you can find hot packages of pigeon strutting, showing their stuff, and getting — yup — some tail.
Most every New Yorker had a sense of each mayor’s New York, from Giuliani’s law and order town to Dinkins’ gorgeous mosaic, at last as far back as Lindsay’s Fun City. But Bloomberg has yet to define his vision, either to the city at large or even to the members of his own administration, who often seem to be running their own mini-mayoralities.
By playing at once the con and the mark, MLB has scammed itself out of a gold mine.
When MLB offered to let DC pay to have them play, Mayor Williams was fixated. He would be the mayor who returned baseball to the nation's capital after 33 years.
Somehow all Union Square's sloganeering feels aimed at a far-off corner of the world, like American prayers in the 1950's for the conversion of Russia. Sure it expresses fervent hopes, but nobody's holding their breath.
I spent the next three days pushing buttons. I wanted to help and they told me the best way to help was to do what I was told. That's how I got my Emmy. For doing what I was told and watching people jump out of the Twin Towers, in fast forward and reverse. Some sixty times I watched the Towers fall. Like a chimp in a Skinner box.
The West Philadelphia streets on which I grew up were studded with shoe repair stores, laundries, restaurants, printers, banks, insurance offices, machine shops, newsstands, candy stores. This is where I encountered the outside world, got my first job, and learned the bourgeois virtues in miniature.
New York City has got a bigger population than most of the states in the Union. It's got more wealth than any dozen of them. Yet the people here, as I explained before, are nothin' but slaves of the Albany gang. We have stood the slavery a long, long time, but the uprisin' is near at hand. It will be a fight for liberty, just like the American Revolution. We'll get liberty peacefully if we can; by cruel war if we must.