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They are doing some construction on the building at 54 W. 74th Street, near the corner of Columbus, and an old neon sign reading "Cafe"—likely part of a sign that once said "Cafeteria"—was uncovered. An observant reader noticed and sent me the above photo. A Pioneer market is still in place there—you can see the old "P" logo. The reader says it's been there since 1959. Apparently, it's a bit of a local institution. The construction work is being carried out by the landlord. I could find out nothing about the name or nature of the cafeteria that once sat here. But the building itself has a lot of history. 54 W. 74th is part of a row of neo-Georgian buildings at 18-52 West 74th built in 1904. They were among the last private houses built on the West Side, and—according to The New York Times—the final development project of the Clark family, who built the Dakota. (Photo credit: Geoff)

It's a riot of wonderful signage over at Mayday Hardware in Prospect Heights. Vertical signs, horizontal signs, hanging signs. It could have been designed by Alexander Calder. Mayday (great name) has been around since 1964. It's owned by Jerry Walsh, who started working there in 1966. Accounts of this place on the web are bonkers. Some love Jerry, and some say the service is incredibly rude, and the prices jacked up. ("Jerry is the best!" "I'll never go there again!") The  responses are so varied, it's like the store is bi-polar. Jerry apparently smokes cigars in the store, which irks some.

Part of what makes my "Who Goes There?" columns for Eater so much continuing fun is the solid knowledge that, no matter how long I do it, I will still come across a New York classic or oddity every now and then that I have never visited before and sometimes had never known of before. A regular reader suggested I go to Neary's on E. 57th Street a few months ago. I had never heard the name, but made a note of it. Everything I read about the place mentioned the host, Jimmy Neary, as being the jewel of the enterprise. I finally ate there last week, and weren't all those accounts right. Jimmy's a gem. And the place is cozy, in a rich, Upper East Side kind of way and the food decent. I am intrigued by the fact that Neary's is open until 4 a.m.—a rarity in that neighborhood. I plan one day to see what the joint is like in the wee hours. Here's my column: Who Goes There? Neary's  In a city full of Irish pubs, Neary's has to be New York's poshest. Its l...

Last December, I posted a long remembrance of a little-remembered old Chelsea bar and restaurant called Harvey's Chelsea House. It was one of those old, dark-wood, manly places from another era. It stood at 108 W. 18th Street and had a huge, vertical, three-story sign that said "Harvey's." Inside, there was a long bar, high ceilings, tile floors, beveled glass and a dining room in the back. I didn't know it at the time, but the joint had opened in 1889 (under some name or other) as one of the original Annhauser-Busch bars, an d that bar was made of red, burled, Honduras mahogany. A man named Dick Harvey took it over in 1977, hence the name.  After Harvey gave it up, the place remained closed for a while, then was reopened as Tonic by one Steve Tzolis, the principal owner of Il Cantinori, Periyali and Aureole, all restaurants in Manhattan. Tonic didn't work out, and the building was torn down in 2006. In my post, I wondered, "What became of the beautiful ...

I was passing by the old, long-dormant Long Island Restaurant on Atlantic Avenue last night and was stunned to see something that Brooklynites hasn't laid eyes on in many years: the classic old neon sign ablaze! The new leasers of the space, who intend to open a bar and restaurant, recently sent the sign to Let There Be Neon to be restored. It was reinstalled a couple weeks ago. This is the first I've seen it lit. (There was someone busy inside working at the time, and the historic interior was looking in good shape.) The color scheme surprised me, with Long Island in green, and the rest a mix of red and pink. But it certainly adds a bit of dash to the far end of Atlantic.

Clinton Hill, having once been a prime residential neighborhood for the well-to-do, is chock-a-block with interesting structures in a wide variety of grand architectural styles. Almost every address merits one's attention and examination. But on a recent trek through the neighborhood, this little three-story affair at 417 Washington Avenue caught my eye. It was noticeably smaller than its brethren, but its builder seems to have aimed for grandiosity as best as he could, tacking on a Mansard roof and handsome circular portico. Given its design and its being made of wood, I guessed it was an old building. Real estate listing indicated it was built in 1901. The size made me wonder if it was once a servents' quarters. But that apparently wasn't the case. Until 1938, it was owned by a family named Cruikshank. In that year, they sold it to Dr. Raymond B. Miles, who used the house as his residence. Miles was an Assistant Medical Examiner, and well-known in the city. When his name ...

They fought over their right to exist and to the name Manganaro for decades. And now, as some sort of seeming poetic justice, both businesses that have long borne that name will vanish forever from Ninth Avenue in Hell's Kitchen. Manganaro's Grosseria Italiana, the ancient and argumentative sandwich shop and grocery, closed last year after 121 years. Now, Manganaro's Hero-Boy, it's longtime rival, owned by another faction of the fractious, litigious family, is leaving the street. It's being forced out by its landlord. According to Eater , the building and the space next door were sold to a developer for $15.75 million, and the new owner wants the shop to vamoose. The sale was brokered by the vulture-like Massey Knakal, which is usually on the scene when old businesses and old buildings die in New York. (I personally was shocked to learn that Hero-Boy didn't own the building.) Hero-Boy was founded in 1956. I used to eat at Hero-Boy often when I worked in Times S...