The man had to be 85-year-old Gay Talese, legendary grandaddy of ’60s New Journalism who left the New York Times to pen signature pieces about Frank Sinatra and Joe DiMaggio for Esquire, later producing bestsellers with biblical names like Honor thy Father, about the Mafia and Thy Neighbor’s Wife, a controversial book about the sexual revolution in which he took a decidedly personal interest in the research. Then there’s High Notes, a collection of his work out this year.
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A brand new Artichoke Pizza opened today in the East Village, across the street from where its famed and decidedly funkier predecessor was shuttered by a fire last month.
The two-alarm blaze broke out at 5:15 am on Friday, May 26, just as Artichoke was closing. It spread to the second floor of 328 E. 14th Street, but no one was injured. Fire marshals determined it was “an accidental fire which started in the kitchen due to heat from the pizza-oven flue,” according to an FDNY spokesperson.
Last night on the northern end of Union Square, passersby stopped and listened– some in rapt astonishment– to classical music, the kind they’d normally hear at Carnegie Hall. Except that these soulful sounds were coming from top performers playing in a popup theater that came out of back of an old U-Haul. The Music Haul is a tour bus operated by Yellow Barn, an international center for chamber music based in Putney, Vermont, that seeks to bring Beethoven, Bartok and Mozart to the masses.
The Times called them a “harbinger of spring” in the East Village. That was back in 2011, when the paper asked, “Where Have All the Crusties Gone?” Well, looks like they’re back.
During a gathering of locals last night at the 9th Precinct station house, a longtime resident complained about the swarm of travelers, as they’re often called, who had recently invaded his block on Second Avenue, between 7th and 8th Streets. Flashing photographs of the scruffy interlopers, he said that people in his building had to “walk over their pitbulls” and put up with their noise, panhandling and drinking. The gent, who asked B+B not to identify him, wanted to know if the cops could bust them.
They weren’t wearing black masks or hurling smoke bombs. But a small group of no more than 20 anti-fascists made it clear Sunday afternoon that they strongly opposed the appearance of British jazz saxophonist and author Gilad Atzmon at a panel discussion on politics after Brexit held late yesterday afternoon in Theatre 80 on St. Marks Place.
Cyclists showed up to the monthly Community Council meeting hoping to learn about the collision between the driver of a box truck and Kelly Hurley, a 31-year-old Lower East Side resident. She was biking to work at the SoulCycle gym on the morning of April 5 when she was struck at the intersection of First Avenue and East 9th Street, said Capt. Vincent Greany, commanding officer of the 9th Precinct.
Detractors of the late Lynne Stewart view her as a mouthpiece for evildoers who was imprisoned for helping a convicted terrorist communicate with his violent followers. Her mostly leftist supporters clearly revere the once prominent Lower East Side lawyer as a zealous defender of the poor and the grievously oppressed. During a funeral service held Saturday morning at St. Mark’s Church-in-the-Bowery, dozens of them joined Stewart’s relatives and friends in mourning her death and celebrating her life as an activist. They made it plain that Stewart did not go gently into that good night. Nor would they.
“She had tremendous love and she taught us not to be afraid,” said Zenobia Brown, Stewart’s physician daughter by Ralph Poynter, her longtime second husband. “We will not be going quietly and we will make mom proud– whether it’s for helping political prisoners or [providing] financial support” for her varied left-wing causes.
Was SantaCon naughty or nice this year?
According to the commanding officer of the 9th Precinct, the annual Red Menace was on jolly good behavior by the time it reached the East Village.
About 100 people bundled up and braved the cold last night to learn more about Donald Trump’s threat to deport millions of undocumented immigrants at a panel convened inside CUNY’s Graduate Center. It was titled: “Sanctuary City: Asylees, Refugees and Migrants in New York City.”
It was a March night in 1973. Sandra Levinson was working late when a bomb exploded in the inside hall of the Center for Cuban Studies, a leftist non-profit she had co-founded eight months earlier with documentary filmmaker Saul Landau and photojournalist Lee Lockwood. At the time of the blast, CCS was located in a Greenwich Village building on Barrow and West 4th Streets.
Shards of glass sprayed Levinson’s third-floor office. She told me her glasses were broken when a window fell on them. But Levinson, a former reporter for the now defunct Ramparts magazine and a one-time political science instructor at City College of New York, was wearing a heavy poncho and escaped what could have been fatal injuries. The Iowa native believes that the perp was a Cuban exile opposed to the late revolutionary leader Fidel Castro, possibly part of a group of violent extremists.
As an aspiring stand-up comic, Randy Credico played on Las Vegas stages trod by Don Rickles and Frank Sinatra, but at age 27 he blew the opportunity of a lifetime. During what could’ve been a career-making appearance on The Tonight Show, he took aim at the Reagan administration and compared UN Ambassador Jeane Kirkpatrick to Adolph Hitler’s beloved Eva Braun.