Eisenberg's

 VANISHED

One of the greatest, and one of my favorites, has gone. After temporarily shuttering during the pandemic, Eisenberg's sandwich shop, near the Flatiron since 1929, has closed for good. A For Lease sign is in the window.

I went by yesterday and talked with building manager Jackie Valiente who told me that she and the building owner would love to save Eisenberg's, but they need someone to take it over and keep it as it is. "Someone who wants the old Eisenberg's," she said, "the old concept of New York." That concept, said customer Arnold Engelman, is simple. "Eisenberg's is what New York's all about," he told me. "People gathering in places they know, knowing the owners and the owners knowing them. This doesn't exist anymore."

Arnold has been coming to Eisenberg's since he was a kid, growing up on 11th Street. Jackie has been eating at Eisenberg's since 1976. It's the kind of place you keep going to forever, always getting your favorite dish. I first went to Eisenberg's in 1995. I worked nearby and my boss took me, saying I had to have the best tuna salad sandwich on earth. He was right. I've never ordered anything else at Eisenberg's. It's been the tuna sandwich for 25 years.

When the place sold in 2018, I panicked. I told the new owner, hotelier Warren Chiu, not to fuck it up and he didn't. He let it be. But the pandemic was too much to keep it going. I got take-out from Eisenberg's as much as I could during the spring and summer of 2020--and worried each time that it was my last dish of tuna salad sandwich, chips, and Cel-Ray from the place. 

Last meal, with Purell

 

Is there a chance for a Hail Mary?

"Tell people we need someone to save Eisenberg's," Jackie told me. Angels have shown up before. When Josh Konecky took it over about fifteen years ago, he kept it as it was--greasy and authentic--and people flocked, crowding the red swivel stools for miles. Recently, customers stepped in to save the Astor barber shop, taking it over and leaving it just as it should be. This can happen and it needs to happen for Eisenberg's--soon.

The shop's slogan is "You either get it or you don't," and Jackie says, "We need someone who gets it. Or else there's no use." Unfortunately, "The only offers we've got are from a pizza place and a Starbucks." Either option would be an absolute tragedy and a slap in the face of this legendary and greatly beloved spot. 

If you're an angel and you "get it," please step up and save Eisenberg's. If you're a pizza place or Starbucks, please fuck right off and die. 

Jackie says the best way to reach out is to contact the brokers at Cushman & Wakefield: Sean Moran 212-841-7668 or Molly Sandza 212-841-7955.

Previously:
Eisenberg's sold
Eisenberg's Not Vanishing
Eisenberg's U-Bet

Odessa

VANISHING

UPDATE: False alarm! Now they say they're just renovating.

Back in 2013, the old Odessa closed. This Odessa was also known as the "dark" Odessa. It was the first Odessa and the one I loved best. Now the new Odessa, also known as a the "light" Odessa, is closing.


Odessa in miniature by Nicholas Buffon

When the old Odessa still existed, I didn't go much to the new Odessa because it felt redundant and too new when it opened back in 1990-whenever. Then, when the old Odessa closed, I went to the new Odessa (which was no longer new) because it was no longer redundant and, in fact, was one of the only places left in the East Village where you could get a simple diner meal and not be surrounded by the worst people.

Now it's closing. Their last day will be July 19.

You can't go inside to sit and eat because we're in a pandemic, remember? But you can order something to go and while you wait you can imagine that you're sitting inside, as if it's a normal day, in a normal time, and everything is not on the verge of disappearing forever.

Record Mart

VANISHED

After 62 years, Record Mart, "the oldest record store in Manhattan," has closed.


photo: Jesse Jarnow

Untapped Cities reports the sad news, “I’d seen them clearing the store out last week but I thought it was because of the fear of looting.” It was not the looting. It was "due to the pandemic," according to a sign on their door, which also reads, "We are moving into the vintage audio business, where we buy, refurbish, and sell audio equipment. Please visit us at recordmartwifi.com to browse our selection, or if you want to contact us to sell your audio gear."

I was last inside Record Mart in December. I worried about it then and bought a few things. I also took this video. A little moment of joy under the ground at Times Square.

Foley's

VANISHED

Another small-business casualty of the coronavirus shutdown, Foley's pub on West 33rd has closed for good.



This afternoon, owner Shaun Clancy posted a sad video on Twitter to say,  "Foley's won't reopen. Just with everything that's going on, there's just no way that I see that we can do it."

He thanks his customers and family, and concludes, "This is the end of the inning, but not the end of the game."



Foley's, located in an antique barroom featuring many original features, overflows with a stunning array of baseball memorabilia.

I've enjoyed a few burgers there over the years and once got an impromptu tour from Shaun's father, John Clancy, who pointed out the pistol he got from mobster Frank Costello and told about his days working at Toots Shor's, serving Frank Sinatra and Jackie Gleason.

Foley's was a true New York original. Pour one out.

New York in the Time of a Pandemic

What's it like on the streets of the city during the pandemic? In my recent travels, mostly around Manhattan, I've seen so much of the beauty, spontaneity, and eccentricity that makes New York feel like New York.

I am posting the photos on my Instagram page and hope you'll take a look.

John Jovino Gun Shop

VANISHED

John Jovino, the oldest gun shop in the United States, has closed for good after 109 years in business in Little Italy.

Founded in 1911 by John Jovino, and originally located in the gun center around the corner on Centre Market Place, the store was purchased by the Imperato family in the 1920s and has been run by Charlie Hu since 1995. It's been featured in many films, including Mean Streets and Serpico, and its famous wooden revolver sign has been a landmark in the neighborhood for over a century.


Charlie removed his mask briefly for this socially distanced shot. 
All photos by Stacie Joy.

Charlie, also known as "Gun King Charlie," was packing up the shop this week and graciously consented to speak with Vanishing New York about the end of an era. Stacie Joy visited with her camera and listened to Mr. Hu tell his story. Like many small business people who are forced to close, having a compassionate ear is an important part of saying goodbye.

"I turned away interviews from NBC, CBS, CNN, and the New York Times," Charlie said. "I only want to talk to you. I’m very emotional right now, as you can see, I am having a rough day. Everything is super sad. I'm glad you are here."



Charlie recalled the difficulties of running the shop years ago. The Italian mafia and the Chinese gangs both wanted protection fees, but Charlie refused. When they threatened him, he told them, “If you want to shoot me, shoot me right here,” and pointed to his heart. You had to establish toughness back then and Charlie was tough. “I don’t care," he told the gangsters. "I don’t give a shit, you do what you want.” They left Charlie alone. He outlasted them.

As a Chinese immigrant, and the first Chinese gun dealer in the U.S., he faced racism and hatred on a regular basis. He recalled how people would come into the shop and give him trouble for not speaking English with his wife. They threatened him, spat on him, called him racial slurs, and told him to "go back to China." But Charlie was tough. He outlasted them.



Charlie showed off the gun he keeps holstered at his hip. A Beretta 84 .380 pistol, it was clearly loved, oiled and cared for. He keeps it with him all the time and even featured it on the shop's iconic t-shirt.

“This is my gun," he said, pointing to the shirt. "It’s my design and it’s been the same price from the beginning. The price never increases and never decreases."



Charlie's phone kept ringing, as phones do on the last days of small businesses. Each time, it was another member of NYPD's top brass calling to check on him, ask how he's doing, and thank him for his decades of service.

Over the years, Charlie gained many friends in the NYPD, as he worked hand-in-hand with law enforcement to keep illegal guns off the streets. Charlie is proud of this--and of his dedication to the shop.



"All my life," he said, "I've never taken a vacation or a sick day. I never had any violations. And now this is the end of the world. My whole life went into this."

As he put away the many awards he received over the years, tears rolled down his cheeks and into his mask. It was not his choice to close the shop. This is not how he wanted it to end.



The rent, he said, is the number one reason for closing. And then the coronavirus, shutting down business. There's also the trouble with regulations, the slow-down in shipments of ammunition, and people buying on the Internet instead of from their local shop. Finally, Charlie said, “I’m old, I’m 74 years old, I was born in 1946, I am old.”

He'll be retiring after this. He hopes to travel, once the restrictions are lifted, and he's getting offers to teach and advise for security firms in Asia. He's considering it. But saying goodbye hasn't been easy.

A text came into his phone from his boss, Mr. Imperato.

“You are completing the mission,” he told Charlie.

“Thanks, boss," Charlie replied. "With my tears.”




Post Script:

I always loved seeing the three-dimensional sign and the colorful targets and posters in the windows of John Jovino. Last week, I wondered what happened to the antique wooden gun that hung from the sign.

On Facebook, I read that Charlie sold it to a man who makes gun sculptures.


via Facebook

He was very happy to get it and it's now sitting in a studio in Brooklyn before it is moved to Los Angeles. Another little piece of the city's heart.

For historical photos of the shop and its big revolver, see my previous stories here and here.


via Facebook

Gem Spa Dismantling Continues

The dismantling of our dearly departed Gem Spa continues today. After yesterday's removal of the lighted signs and yellow awnings, workers are carefully removing another, more delicate sign.



Previously hidden, the sign has GEM SPA painted on glass.



Owner Parul Patel tells me it appeared in a number of movies, including 200 Cigarettes (which I recommend only for the scenes of the East Village in the 90s--I wrote about it here).


200 Cigarettes

Parul told me the signs are safely in storage. She hopes that one day, on the other side of the pandemic, there might be another life for Gem Spa. Who knows?

In the meantime, there is still merch.