Classic New York: A Walk, and a Map

The walk described here is based on a series of posts relating to the New York of Auntie Mame (see related posts following). I took the walk myself over several days, rather than all at once. I consider the walk as a series of experiences. Trying to enjoy Macy's, Times Square, the Algonquin, stores along Fifth Avenue, the Plaza Hotel and the King Cole Bar at the St. Regis in the same day would be too daunting and exhausting. And expensive.

I'm already thinking about returning to the St. Regis.

This walk serves as a companion to the Walk in Turtle Bay that includes 3 Beekman Place, the fictional home of Mame Dennis. The walk also intersects with other themed walks such as the New York of Raymond Hood, Architect and Fifth Avenue and the High Road to Taos: Mabel Dodge, Georgia O'Keeffe, and New York City.



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The walk is approximately 1.6 miles. What I consider Classic New York is more vast than this walk. It would include Tiffany's, for example, but I'm saving a visit there for when I write about You Know Who. Also, MY Classic New York includes free things and cheap things and just the sheer joy of strolling.

See related posts:
Classic New York: 59th and Fifth: A Slideshow
Classic New York: The Algonquin
Classic New York: Times Square
Classic New York: A Visit to Macy's, in April
Classic New York: Henri Bendel
Classic New York: The King Cole Bar at the St. Regis
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis
A Walk in Turtle Bay: Beekman Place, the U.N., Tudor City, and E. 42nd St.
The Liberation Theology of Mame Dennis
Grand Central Theatre, and A New Walk Begins

Image: at 59th and Fifth Ave. Walking Off the Big Apple. April 2008.

The Classic New York of Mame Dennis: A Coda, on Bank Street

At the time I set out on the recent Mame walk (see related posts following), I was trying to decide between Mame Dennis and Lily Bart, the heroine of Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth, for the walk's theme. While exploring the places Auntie Mame worked following the stock market crash of 1929, I realized that both Mame and Lily share one thing in common, a crisis of social status. Mame's story of finding herself ill-equipped to fulfill the basic job requirements in the Depression echoes Bart's similar lack of preparedness at the turn of the century. But with her spirit of adventure, Mame knows how to play roles to survive and get along. Lily Bart, on the other hand, can not see her way out of the constrictions of social class and status. Doors opened for Lily, but she did not enter. Mame, as we know, opened all the new windows and doors.

In the late 1920s Patrick Dennis' aunt, Marion Tanner, the purported role model for the character, bought a handsome house on Bank Street in Greenwich Village and lived there until the 1960s. The "real" Mame did not inhabit Beekman Place, but the Village, an appropriate neighborhood for a woman with her taste in ideas and friends. According to several books and memoirs, among them, Richard Jordan's But Darling, I'm Your Auntie Mame and Eric Myers' Uncle Mame: The Life of Patrick Dennis, Marion Tanner was indeed an eccentric wealthy woman of keen intellect, but not quite the caricature that the nephew created.

Patrick Dennis lived his own colorful life, marrying and becoming a father of two children, all the while grappling with issues of bisexuality, and later launching a career as a butler, including a stint for McDonald's founder, Ray Kroc. According to one story, Patrick was once asked about the inspirational source of Mame, and he pointed to himself. At some point he and his aunt had a falling out, and the politics of the family grew complicated. Stricken with pancreatic cancer, Patrick died in 1976 at the age of 55.

While walking along Bank Street last week, I met a woman who knew Marion Tanner. She said Tanner was one of the most brilliant women she had ever known, but "with a giant screw loose." In the 1960s, Tanner turned her house at 72 Bank Street into several apartments for renters, but in time, she let artists, and later ill people, drug addicts, and other unfortunate souls stay there. She eventually lost the house through non-payment of taxes. "Mame" lived the remainder of her years at a retirement home on Hudson St. She died in 1985 at the age of 94.

The woman I met chastised me a bit for asking questions, saying that this was "an old story." But, sometimes the old stories are never told. In the end, what remains is the moral of the fictional story, and the one worth repeating -

"Live, live, live!"
"Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death!"

Image: Bank Street, West Village, New York, New York. April 2008.

See related posts:
Classic New York: A Walk, and a Map
Classic New York: 59th and Fifth: A Slideshow
Classic New York: The Algonquin
Classic New York: Times Square
Classic New York: A Visit to Macy's, in April
Classic New York: Henri Bendel
Classic New York: The King Cole Bar at the St. Regis
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis
A Walk in Turtle Bay: Beekman Place, the U.N., Tudor City, and E. 42nd St.
The Liberation Theology of Mame Dennis
Grand Central Theatre, and A New Walk Begins

Coming next: The walk, and a map.

Classic New York: 59th & Fifth (with Slideshow)

I spent the late morning in the vicinity of 59th Street and Fifth Avenue, the epicenter of Classic New York. After visiting with the carriage horses parked at Grand Army Plaza, I walked into the restored Plaza Hotel where I drank a cup of coffee, looked around at the new furniture and floor coverings and then gazed out a front window.

It was my first time back in the Plaza Hotel since the soft reopening, and I was disappointed that the place didn't smell like its older self - that mix of irises, spilled champagne, musty drapes, lingering cigar smoke, coffee, chocolate, and Joy perfume that I so strongly associate with my memory of the hotel. This morning, I smelled more fresh paint and sawdust than anything, and my attempt to enjoy a cup of coffee was interrupted by sounds of electric saws and shrill experiments with the hotel's PA system. I knew I was going to be a hard customer for the reopened Plaza, but many like myself associate great moments of our lives with this once-charmed place.

Leaving The Plaza, I wandered into surrounding stores, including Bergdorf Goodman (still very much like its older self, and in a good way) and FAO Schwarz, the legendary toy store. The Apple Store, with its clear cube above-ground entrance, seems well-settled in this location.

Yesterday, I passed by a Bond No. 9 perfume store, and posted in the window was Andy Warhol's quote, "My favorite smell is the first smell of spring in New York." Andy may have been pulling our leg, but leaning over the fence at 59th Street this morning to look at the first verdant signs of spring in Central Park, I thought, maybe, it could also be my favorite smell, too.

Images by Walking Off the Big Apple from Friday, April 11, 2008.

See related posts:
Classic New York: A Walk, and a Map
Classic New York: A Coda, on Bank Street
Classic New York: The Algonquin
Classic New York: Times Square
Classic New York: A Visit to Macy's, in April
Classic New York: Henri Bendel
Classic New York: The King Cole Bar at the St. Regis
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis
A Walk in Turtle Bay: Beekman Place, the U.N., Tudor City, and E. 42nd St.
The Liberation Theology of Mame Dennis
Grand Central Theatre, and A New Walk Begins

For more about Fifth Avenue, see the separate WOTBA walk, Fifth Avenue and the High Road to Taos.

UPDATE: WOTBA outtakes and additional photos NOW ON FLICKR.

Classic New York: Times Square

The Times Square area, famously cleaned up from its XXX days, to some people's chagrin, still attracts visitors like lemmings. I don't have many occasions to walk through this dizzying streetscape, but when I happen upon Times Square, my stress level hits at least the orange zone.

It's hard for my brain to handle all the multiple moving images projected onto jumbo screens, the crawling ticker of news items, the flashing colors, and the onrush of pedestrians. One day I will spin into a vortex, collapse upon the pavement, and succumb to massive trampling by high heels, boots and sneakers. If I survive, I will move to Iowa.

Leaving Macy's, I headed up Broadway at 34th St. and then through Times Square to 44th Street. I wandered around the Theatre District for awhile, fighting for a bit of the pavement with those leaving the theaters after matineés. I encountered many tour guides attempting to keep their groups together, confusing when everyone seems to be a part of some tour. It would be easy to get lost and switch tours accidentally, winding back up at the wrong hotel with a different group of strangers.

Images: Daytime nightmares at Times Square. Walking Off the Big Apple, April 9, 2008. I hope this picture is big enough for everyone to see.

See related posts:
Classic New York: A Walk, and a Map
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis: A Coda, on Bank Street
Classic New York: 59th and Fifth: A Slideshow
Classic New York: The Algonquin
Classic New York: A Visit to Macy's, in April
Classic New York: Henri Bendel
Classic New York: The King Cole Bar at the St. Regis
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis
A Walk in Turtle Bay: Beekman Place, the U.N., Tudor City, and E. 42nd St.
The Liberation Theology of Mame Dennis
Grand Central Theatre, and A New Walk Begins

Classic New York: A Visit to Macy's, in April

The "magic of Macy's" is normally wrapped up in the holiday season. Immortalized in pop culture with the movie, Miracle of 34th Street, the Thanksgiving Day Parade, and for NPR listeners, with David Sedaris' wicked experiences as Crumpet the Elf in his "Santaland Diaries," Macy's department store on Herald Square attracts hordes of shoppers beyond the tinseled season. For New Yorkers, it's a common place to shop.

Mame Dennis, making ends meet following the crash of the 1929 stock market, sells roller-skates in Macy's toy department, the place where she meets her future southern husband. Walking in Mame's steps, I visited Macy's yesterday afternoon.

The Herald Square flagship, the largest department store in the world, features nine floors sprawled over two connecting buildings on 7th Avenue and Broadway and accessible by elevators and a vintage wooden escalator system. I gradually made my way up the chunky noisy escalator to the 8th Floor, home to the seasonal Santa Land and current seasonal merchandise. Finding not much happening in Santa Land, of course, I found it touching, if not surreal, to see swimsuits in the adjoining room.

For a little off-season fun, listen to excerpts from Sedaris' "Santaland Diaries," originally broadcast in 1992, at the NPR site here.

Part of a series of posts relating to The Classic New York of Mame Dennis.

Images: Herald Square and Swimsuit in Santa Land. Walking Off the Big Apple. April 9, 2008.

See related posts:
Classic New York: A Walk, and a Map
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis: A Coda, on Bank Street
Classic New York: 59th and Fifth: A Slideshow
Classic New York: The Algonquin
Classic New York: Times Square
Classic New York: Henri Bendel
Classic New York: The King Cole Bar at the St. Regis
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis
A Walk in Turtle Bay: Beekman Place, the U.N., Tudor City, and E. 42nd St.
The Liberation Theology of Mame Dennis
Grand Central Theatre, and A New Walk Begins

Classic New York: Henri Bendel

After leaving the King Cole Bar at the St. Regis, making my way back through the lobby and into the sunshine of 55th Street, sunglasses back on, I couldn't recollect if I had spent twenty minutes in the bar or over an hour, most likely a magic time distortion brought on by the merry old soul in Parrish's mural. Whatever time it was, it was no time to go home and walk the dogs. Flushed from a merry bar conversation, I decided it was time to shop.

Mame Dennis, for one of her short stints in the real world, modeled tea dresses for Henri Bendel's store. After "an ugly contretemps" in which a rich old man pinched her in the rear and she said something back, M. Bendel let her go, offering her the advice that the best career for her would be marriage. Walking along Fifth Avenue, I saw the Henri Bendel storefront, so I wandered in to get a look.

After the indeterminate number of minutes or hours at the St. Regis bar, I proved a likely candidate to buy the first thing any one of the seemingly thousands of makeup specialists at Henri Bendel would try to sell me. I had barely gotten in the front door when a nice man held out a lipstick sample for me to try. Thinking I probably needed lipstick after quaffing the "Red Snapper," but certainly not rouge, as my cheeks, nose, and eyes were already aflame, I sat in a chair and let the makeup specialist paint my lips with an appropriately subdued cinnamon color and then a touch of lip glacé. When speaking to me, the expert, like all the good ones in makeup land, balanced restrained flattery with the ever-so-slight suggestion that I would look much better if I continued to sit there and try on more things before I pulled out my wallet.

Carrying my little brown and white striped Henry Bendel bag with the lipstick and gloss wrapped inside, I made my way through the onslaught of the ensuing makeup expert gauntlet, ambushed by perfumes and a special bottled water meant to cleanse my face. It was not at all unpleasant, but upon eyeing the fabulously colorful Chanel display on the second floor, I rushed up the stairs to higher and safer ground.

The visual culture of Henri Bendel is splendid - the famous Lalique windows overlooking Fifth Ave, the colorful handbags and cashmere sweaters in bright seasonal colors, and alcoves of even more perfume bottles. Close to my heart, a branch of the Chocolate Bar occupies an atrium on the third floor. After buying a caramel and a brownie to take home, I decided the proverbial clock was ticking on this day in old New York, and I needed to get back to the Village before the enchanted fairy dust dissolved in the perfumed air.

Website for Henri Bendel.

Image: Window, with Whitney Biennial 2008 promo and pink handbag, Henri Bendel, 712 Fifth Avenue. New York.

See related posts:
Classic New York: A Walk, and a Map
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis: A Coda, on Bank Street
Classic New York: 59th and Fifth: A Slideshow
Classic New York: The Algonquin
Classic New York: Times Square
Classic New York: A Visit to Macy's, in April
Classic New York: The King Cole Bar at the St. Regis
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis
A Walk in Turtle Bay: Beekman Place, the U.N., Tudor City, and E. 42nd St.
The Liberation Theology of Mame Dennis
Grand Central Theatre, and A New Walk Begins

Classic New York: The King Cole Bar at the St. Regis

A 20-dollar bill doesn't go far in Manhattan, but it's enough to cover the price of the signature Red Snapper at the King Cole Bar inside the St. Regis Hotel at 2 E. 55th St. and over which you can see not only Maxfield Parrish's sublime and recently restored Old King Cole Mural above the elegantly paneled bar but also the means by which you can experience New York through rose-colored glasses.

The "Red Snapper" is the name for the St. Regis Hotel's "Blood Mary," the now-ubiquitous concoction the hotel introduced to the United States. When I visited the bar yesterday afternoon, I already knew I wanted to try one, rationalizing mid-day vodka consumption with the conviction that tomato juice and pepper would help me get over the final stages of a cold. Amply served in a tall curvy glass and with just the right amount of peppery spice, the drink, accompanied by bar snacks of wasabi crunches, pretzels, and mixed nuts, along with the visual wonder of the Old King Cole narrative playing above, helped propel me to a higher state of consciousness.

I visited the bar and the St. Regis as part of this week's exploration of the Classic New York of Mame Dennis. Before I set out on my midtown trip, knowing my destination in advance, I dressed myself in Classic Fashion, ransacking the closet for tailored black clothes and appropriate accessories. I let the spirit of Mame transform my appearance from the scholarly spectacled Agnes Gooch of my morning attire into a dame that seemed at home in the St. Regis. It's not the clothes that open doors to Classic New York, I know, but rather qualities of confidence and posture. Still, it's best to dress up. I also wore dark sunglasses, a powerful fashion addition for reporting from the field.

When I walked through the lobby of the hotel and past the dining area toward the King Cole Bar, at that point shifting the sunglasses to the top of my head, I couldn't count the number of well-groomed service staff members waiting to help the hotel guests. Classic New York, I learned, involves a high ratio of well-trained and polite experts to the willing, and preferably monied, customer. When Mame becomes Mrs. Beauregard Jackson Pickett Burnside, she moved to ten rooms at the St. Regis Hotel, lifting her out of the impoverished embarrassment of a carriage house in Murray Hill. Lucky her. In the timeline of Patrick Dennis' memoir, she would have arrived at the hotel at just about the time (give or take a couple of years, who's counting?), in 1934, when bartender Fernand Petiot took a job at the bar and invented the "Red Snapper."

Website for the King Cole Bar at the St. Regis Hotel

Next up: After the King Cole Bar, negotiating the conga line of Henri Bendel makeup experts.

Image: Arriving at the St. Regis Hotel. April 8, 2008.

See related posts:
Classic New York: A Walk, and a Map
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis: A Coda, on Bank Street
Classic New York: 59th and Fifth: A Slideshow
Classic New York: The Algonquin
Classic New York: A Visit to Macy's, in April
Classic New York: Henri Bendel
Classic New York: The King Cole Bar at the St. Regis
The Classic New York of Mame Dennis
A Walk in Turtle Bay: Beekman Place, the U.N., Tudor City, and E. 42nd St.
The Liberation Theology of Mame Dennis
Grand Central Theatre, and A New Walk Begins

The Girl With The Purple Umbrella

After a forecast yesterday that called for rain or snow in the morning, followed by a chance of flurries or some rain later in the morning, and then some rain around noon, nothing really materialized until the early afternoon. Then, a wild but brief sideways snowstorm blew in fast and furious. It was not like fluffy snow or freezing precipitation but more like being caught inside a shaken snow globe.

I chanced to look out the window at the blowing wintry precipitation - the kind that the weather service might characterize as "unknown," when I spotted a young woman with a purple umbrella standing in the middle of the intersection. I didn't think she was in too much danger, Sunday afternoon at that hour is fairly quiet in the Village, but I did worry that she was fairly vulnerable to a speeding taxi. As we say in Texas, usually about politics, "Only thing in the middle of the road are yellow stripes and dead armadillos."

I watched her for several minutes, though she was hard to see in the blowing snow, and I wondered why, of course, she was immovable in the middle of the intersection. I liked her purple umbrella. Then I realized she was talking on her cell phone. That must be a pretty important call, I thought, the kind that's so important that you have to stand still. Casual phone calls usually can be conducted while walking, but serious or surprising news will stop you dead in your tracks. So, here's this girl with a purple umbrella that's about to blow out of one hand, and it's snowing sideways at about fifty miles an hour, and she's on the phone and not moving. I would not do that.

I surmised that even though I saw her standing at this particular intersection in the middle of a winter storm, she herself imagined being elsewhere, a somewhere that was not in the middle of the street.

Not Letting a Beautiful Day Go to Waste

After a stretch of gloomy days, the bright sun and warmer temperatures drew thousands of New Yorkers out of doors today.

The surprise gift of a beautiful day served as a way to open many conversations. It was a day to sit outside at the cafe, buy some tulips, or play handball in "The Cage." The dogs seemed to love it, too.

The 20 Coats I Need in New York

One of the most fascinating articles I read last month reported on the correlation between global warming and the fashion industry. With temperatures rising, the arrival of fall doesn't automatically signal a return to wearing fall fashion. Clothing companies like Liz Claiborne have hired climatologists to help decide when to ship out fall clothes. I find this fascinating and scary.

During the fluctuations of weather this winter season in New York - flurries one day, the high 60s the next week, and the following week a mixture or rain and snow, I have changed into twenty or so different coats. Last week I sported my extreme weather parka, the one I bought when we lived in Wisconsin, and for the chillier and dry days on the weekend I switched into lighter, full-length vintage coats. Yesterday, on a warm day, I made do with my mother's black suede Eisenhower jacket.

When I lived in the South, I just needed one coat for winter days. I sometimes needed a short jacket for chilly weather, but most of the time one coat sufficed. Not here in New York, where the days vary so much in temperature and humidity that I go scrambling through the coat closet (also not needed in the South) looking for the right type, length, fabric, lining, and style. Factoring in the predicted winds, precipitation, humidity, and temperature, and style choice appropriate for the destination, wearing coats in New York can become a complicated affair.

Today, with windy conditions, a light occasional rain, and a high near 60, and with no appointments on my calendar, I will wear a light all-weather jacket, the kind guys throw on when they're walking to the corner bar to watch football and drink a beer.

Image: I bought my "Miss New Yorker" vintage coat in 1994 at a thrift store in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.

New York Food Preference Poll

New Feature! In my increasing efforts to ascertain the needs of readers, I am adding a poll feature. Look for it on the top of the right hand column. Are you hungry? In a few days, after we are done with him, I will ask you about Julian Schnabel.

The City That Sometimes Sleeps

As a morning person, I miss a lot of late night partying action. I wake up in a city that is always sleeping. Except for the dog walkers and the end-of-shift streetwalkers and the occasional drunk frat boy who can't find his way home, I have a town of 8 million people pretty much to myself. Taking a long walk down Broadway on a Sunday morning feels post-Apocalyptic, like I got left behind in the Rapture.

A Softer Light Dawns on Gotham Ere This Mornin'

The light is soft this morning in New York, the faintest hint of a resonant minor chord. The breeze comes in variably, and the shadows seem much longer and deeper, lowlights under the dappled canopies of trees. The air combined with the light feels like the first sip of a soft red burgundy wine. The overall effect serves as a minder that late summer plans must soon fall in place, that the other country that is New York in the autumn is drawing near.