First Street

My first solo apartment was on this block, First Street between First and Second Avenues. That was back when the neighborhood was the just the Lower East Side. It wasn't until a couple of decades later that it became the East Village. The difference, among other things is currently around $2500 a room. Anyway, this morning's rounds took me past my old corner which, along with just about everything in the neighborhood has changed. And as anyone who lived around there back when Flower Power was in bloom and Love was Free and I fell in love with another Janis, the one on stage at the Filmore East – although she never knew it - and where, as I recall, if you knew anybody at all or looked right, you never had to pay to get into that hallowed venue, it has all changed and not for the better.

On my old corner where there used to be a gas station run by guys who could also fix a car and was opened all night and they  sold gas for less than a buck a gallon because that is what everyone else charged, back on that corner there is now a construction site which is regrettably not an unusual thing to find in the old neighborhood, but what was worth stropping was the new graphic some anonymous (so far) artist painted on the building next to it:

I have no idea of what is is supposed to mean or why it is there.  But it is. And it is worth stopping for a moment, which is more than can be said for just about every other neighborhood 'improvement' in the neighborhood.

But here's yet another kick: looking at this photo, I notice the red sign down in the lower left corner: see it? Well, 40+ years ago there was an 'antique' shop on that spot.  Eh, it was really more like a second hand shop, but the owner had grandiose ideas. The owner's name was Kurt, he was from Denmark and he called the place “Matchless Gifts.” 

 I occasionally bought stuff from Kurt. Like this great table. When I first saw it on the sidewalk outside the shop it was painted with pink and black house paint and looked pretty bad.  I remember lifting it and feeling the weight: it was some kind of hardwood and for $9 it was mine.  I carried it home which was just arund the corner and spent the next few days stripping refinishing, which was a serious undertakig in a studio apartment.   Underneath the paint, just like I figured it was beautiful hardwood. When it was done, I invited Kurt over and we had coffee at my new table. I still have the table. And a great old wooden trunk. In time, Kurt moved out. 30 years later I ran into him at another shop, which was still in the neighborhood and more like a real antique shop. Kurt did not remember me or the table.

Anyway, after Kurt mover out, this strange Indian guy moved into the shop. He kept the awning sign “Matchless Gifts” and I think he lived in the place.  Pretty soon there were a bunch more people hanging out there.  They dressed like him, panhandled and chanted.  At the time, none of this was noteworthy.  I stopped by occasionally, although I never did see the point of the chanting. They also gave out free food that was not very attractive. 

All  these years later the sign is still there.  Turned out the Indian guy who dressed funny was named A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada.  Not a name I remember, but we all probably have seen -and heard - those other folks: the Hari Krishnas.  Yep, them. And he's the guy. And it all started right there on my block.