/ Cory Doctorow / 1:53 am Mon May 16, 2011

Dingy, glorious shop-signs of New York City


How To Be a Retronaut has a large gallery of images from Store Front: The Disappearing Face of New York, a new book by James and Karla Murray that documents the vanishing golden-age shop signs of New York City, including interviews with the shop owners. The Associated Press review says, "They tell the story of the 20th century in New York, with wisps of the 19th and hints of the 21st. If you want to understand the aesthetics of the country's most famous city at street level, this is the best way to do it short of actually going there."

The Disappearing Face of New York

17

    1. Of course in the 1950s-1960s, when these now vanishing stores came into existence, they had replaced an *earlier* New York. That’s the way of the world. And our children and grandchildren may mourn the passing of McDonald’s and CVS the way people today lamet the passing of Horn and Hardart’s Automat.

      1. Of course in the 1950s-1960s, when these now vanishing stores came into existence, they had replaced an *earlier* New York. That’s the way of the world. And our children and grandchildren may mourn the passing of McDonald’s and CVS the way people today lamet the passing of Horn and Hardart’s Automat.

        Yes, sure. But this is a different kind of strata burying the old. What we are seeing now across all cities is multinational corporate stores taking the place of small businesses. Eventually we will globally converge into a lovely shade of beige.

        And McDonalds? You do remember that they were once a family-owned chain? (So was Taco Bell until PepsiCo bought them out in the 80s) That is the past people should yearn for. And CVS? Really? Even the USSR couldn’t erect such a soulless, life-sucking storefront.

        2. I understand, but not all nostalgia is about small mom-and-pop businesses — there’s plenty of nostalgia for now-vanished chains. Take my example of the automats — that’s probably *the* classic example of NYC nostalgia for people of my parents’ generation. And yet Horn and Hardart was a chain. Out of Philadelphia, even. No doubt, when they were new, they seemed pretty soulless (Hopper’s painting “Automat” of a sad young woman drinking coffee in one rather suggests that). While I was perhaps being facetious about CVS, I can seriously imagine that if McDonald’s ever goes bankrupt, there will be people waxing nostalgic about Big Macs.

  4. I lived in Bushwick for awhile and walked past Ideal Dinettes on Knickerbocker about every weekend, where I also enjoyed some of the best pizza and tacos in Brooklyn. The display never changed and most of the merchandise was solidly locked into the 1950s. Really glad to see that storefront and its perennial vinyl turquoise dining chairs getting some attention, I think Knickerbocker is really interesting visually, culturally, and gastronomically.

  5. Wonderful! Such a shame that style has gone. Although, people in fifty years will feel the same way about the appearance of more “contemporary” storefront designs of today.

  6. There is a fundamental difference between one store or building replacing an existing one and what’s happening now. Entire city blocks — entire neighborhoods, even — are being razed and replaced with bland high-rises controlled by single developers. Of course there will be retail establishments, but only those that a) can afford the vastly increased rent and b) are approved by the faceless corporation that owns the building complex. Their signage and storefront appearance must conform to guidelines, often including the font and location of the store’s name, as the developer values its own branding over that of its tenants. And when those stores disappear, their replacements will be in the same giant building and subject to the same uniform appearance regulations.

    There sure as hell won’t be any Mars Bar.

    1. “Of course there will be retail…”

      If only that were so. Here in Toronto we just plough under all of the retail establishments along with the housing and put up 40-store condos over the entire area. The nearest supermarket is probably miles away with the sorts of prices that such monopolies always bring. Oh well, I suppose that those of us living in high-density areas can always brave the gridlock (no new roads or transit either) and go shopping in the suburbs.

  7. The Ideal Dinettes sign was taken down about two years ago, when the owner moved his shop out and rented the facade to a clothing store. Being from the neighborhood I stopped in to ask after the sign, harboring visions of hanging in the garden… Or something. Turns out he had tried to sell it, and without any takers and facing a huge removal fee, he gave it some wreckers. Sad. Especially when the clothing store failed and a furniture store moved back in.

    On a happier note… Circo’s, another neighborhood shop featured in the book, is still around and does a brisk trade in wedding cakes and pastries.

  9. Great pick, Cory – this is one of my favorite picture books of recent times. However it’s not a new book. “Store Front” has been out for at least two years. – one of the nice things about it is that there’s commentary by the store owners regarding the history of some of the businesses featured. It’s a huge book and it weighs a ton, but it’s the greatest!

  10. Aww man, I really want that turquoise kitchen set for my Dr. Venture-style place. Anyone with a time machine willing to pick that up for my atomic-age apartment?

  11. Oooooh this is So Great.

    Barney Greengrass The Sturgeon King?!!? That’s Freaking Awesome.

    And Walters looks like a mini-Akihabara from 1977…I want to look inside.

    I’m a West Coast boy born and bred, but ol’ NYC sure has some impressive urbanity.

    The loss of the old and funky saddens me. . .I hereby raise a toast to the busted, janky and funkdafied establishments of yesteryear and today: ‘It can’t ALL be Target. . .!’

  12. New to you, that is… Reviewed in 2008, officially published in January 09.

    It’s a beautiful, coffee-table-sized book (i.e., the size of a coffee table). The pictures look great on the web, but on the screen they’re indistinguishable from superrealist paintings. For full impact, find the book itself. It’s spectacular — especially to someone who, like me, grew up in that vanished New York of chrome and neon.

Comments are closed.