If you ever stroll around Lower Manhattan, you might find yourself on Thomas Street. And if you walk past 33 Thomas Street, you'll pass the most mysterious skyscraper in NYC.
It's a 45-story hulking brutalist pile that looks like a weird Lincoln Log and looms over its immediate vicinity. It has no windows. No ornamentation. Whereas most skyscrapers are gleaming with glass, inviting glares and glare, this one ... doesn't. It seems to be purposefully, aggressively shutting, out the world.
And, if fact, that's exactly what it's doing.
In fact its an AT&T building that was originally built to connect long-distance phone calls and oversee phone networks. Today it does something similar for the digital age.
And it's also apparently built to withstand a nuclear attack in order to keep society functioning and communicating. It is, so to say, "apocalypse proof."
So here's a little inside look at NYC's secret skyscaper.
The thing about NYC is that it's a city with a fascinating past but that is always, relentlessly, looking into the future. And Mr NYC tries to be as future-oriented as possible, following the trajectory of the greatest city on earth.
But ... the past never fully vanishes. As F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote, we are always going against the current, "borne back ceaselessly into the past."
To put it another way, people will always be fascinated by NYC back in the day.
So here are some various examples.
Nostalgia for NYC back in the day is so huge that there's literally an entire Youtube Channel called ... NYC Nostalgia. It has numerous videos chronicling life in NYC in the last couple of decades and centuries, including about things you might not necessarily realize existed. For example, did you know there were motorcycle gangs all over NYC? Yes, there were, as this video shows:
Then there's the money. Yes, NYC was built by great wealth and generated great wealth. Heck, there's an entire show about it called The Guilded Age about the late-19th century when NYC's wealth changed the entire nation.
Sometimes this wealth produced great things and sometimes ... not so much.
This was true even before the Gilded Age, before families like the Vanderbilts and Rockefellers -- families that name many of our streets like the Astors, the Jeromes, the Schermerhorns, the Delanceys, and many others. Here's a great video about some of these families that used to rule NYC back in the day, the original city elite:
And then there's the darkness. Look at this photo taken in October 2001 at Ground Zero, a month after 9/11:
Ouch. You got then-Commissioner Bernard Kerik who ended up going to jail for corruption (and is now deceased). It includes then-Mayor Rudy Giuilani who later committed treason but trying to overturn the 2020 presidential election and wound up broke, indicted and disgraced. And then there's the now former Prince Andrew, who's been arrested for corruption and settled a mult-million dollar sexual abuse lawsuit. The photo above was taken only six or seven months after this infamous photo:
The then-prince was in NYC at that time to pay his respects to the families whose loved-ones has perished, to visit and thank the first responders for their work, and extend sympathy to a traumatized city.
It appears that, during this visit to NYC, in the aftermath of this horrific event, Prince Andrew came to town not only to provide comfort but also to do some partying with Russian broads. Watch this video about Andrew's 9/11 jaunt, it'll both fascinate and disgust you:
And to think that these dark people were the ones taking care of NYC at this dark time only makes the darkness even darker -- darkness on top of darkness. And today when we see images of the now former prince, this is what we see:
But let's end this look at NYC back in the day on a happier, funnier note.
In the early 1980s, as Saturday Night Live was transitioning out of its '70s heyday, the show went into a critical and ratings downturn -- and flirted with cancellation. But it was saved by a 19-year old kid who was still living with his parents in Brooklyn named Eddie Murphy. His comic brilliance was so blazing, so wild and fascinating, that he saved the show that has lasted for half-a-century. When SNL started back in the day it was a curiousity -- a quirky, funky 1970s late-night sketch show from NYC. But Eddie Murphy turned it into an institution that defines the city and its impact on American culture to this day.
By the way, you can watch one of Eddie Murphy's funniest "Mister Robinson's Neighborhood" sketches below and the entire archive for your enjoyment here.
The long-time civil right activist Jesse Jackson has died. He was, in many ways, the bridge between the activism of Martin Luther King and the Presidency of Barack Obama.
Jackson kept his civil rights fight going for his whole life -- and he had lots of controversies and lots of successes. He was an American original, a man who burnished his way into history, a legend.
And he was funny.
In the early 1990s I remember when he popped up on Saturday Night Live's "Weekend Update" and he did a brilliatly hilarious telling of "Green Eggs & Ham." In fact, it was so funny that In Living Color felt the need to match it -- and did, also hilariously. This was back in the day when comedy was edgy, slightly dangerous, and so much more relevant than it is today.
A much younger Jesse Jackson also appeared in 2021 documentary Summer of Soul about the musical festival in Harlem in 1969. Jesse Jackson's life was truly mult-varied, and epic. RIP.
The former presidents of Brazil and France have gone to jail for treason and corruption too.
But not here. Not in the USA. Not in a country where we say that all men are created equal. Nope. If you're a Donald Trump or one of his associates, you float above the law -- and the media and half of the public are okay with it.
You can engage in blatent corruption and violence and get away with it.
This is a shameful, dark chapter in American history that we're living through. One day I hope it might end.
As the world continues to grapple with fallout from the Epstein Files -- and the horrible system of abuse that he enabled and that society ignored for too long -- the issue of the 21st-century Rasputin's real estate (in which so much ugly stuff happened) continues.
Epstein's Island in the Carribean as well as his house in Palm Beach are the most notable places. As was his townhouse -- the largest in Manhattan -- on the Upper East Side. (See the video below for more.)
The house has a long and varied history, like any piece of NYC real estate, and the story behind it is an interesting as it is sordid. One thing that has been noted is that the house used to be a school -- which is deeply, darkly ironic considering the man's crimes.
And here's the thing: I remember it as a school!
The Epstein mansion used to be the home for the Birch Wathen School. It was one of those fancy townhouses on both the Upper East and West Sides that were converted into apartments or schools or various business & non-profit headquarters in the 20th century. In 1989 Birth Wathen merged with the Lenox school and it moved ... leaving the mansion vacant. The Victoria Secret founder Lex Wexner bought it and, so it seems, turned it back into a home. He eventually gifted it to Epstein who then made it into his headquarters for foul deeds.
The fact that a townhouse that was turned into a school was eventually turned back into a home is one of those regressive things like a republic becoming a monarchy that's really depressing.
Anyhoo, when I was a kid I went to another private school nearby -- also in a converted townhouse. And one year I took a private school bus service to school that my parents paid for (one of my fellow bus-mates was Cameron Douglas, son of Michael, who was a nice kid but sadly whose life went awry). But the other school that used this service was, you guesed it, Birch Wathen. And every day we would stop first at Birch Wathen -- and the mansion that would, decades later, fall into infamy.
I never went to the school nor was in the mansion so it's interesting to hear stories of those who did. But I was close to it back in the day, a creepy thing to realize now.
Postscript: about three years ago I walked by the mansion on a cold weekday morning. No one was there thankfully, no voyeurs or people taking pictures -- at least not as far as I could tell. Epstein was dead, the FBI had taken whatever they had needed back in 2019, and it was just sitting there, forelorn.
But there was one clear sign that something was amiss, that something was wrong with this place: the huge double-doors where Prince Andrew was seen poking his head out of and where lots of young women of various ages were seen going in and out -- was covered up by a big ugly wood plank. It was a decidedly weird thing (I assume that it was boarded up because the cops didn't want people breaking into the mansion but who knows). I thought about taking a picture of it and posting it on the blog but I didn't ... it just felt wrong and exploitative and voyeuristic of a tragic situation. So I let it be.
Recently I discovered that I'm a descendant of Andrew Corsa.
Who's he?
He was a farmer born in 1762, and he owned property in what is today the Bronx where Fordham University now stands.
Most notably he was a "Westchester Guide" (the Bronx being part of Westchester back then) during the Revolutionary War. In July 1781, he helped General George Washington and Count Rochambeau navigate the Bronx, doing reconnaisance with them about British troop locations and movements. It burnished his legend.
Corsa also had two wives and 13 children, and some untold number of great and great-great and great-great-great and beyond grandchildren.
And Mr NYC is one of them.
Also, the Corsas are on the map! In the Bronx there is an avenue named after Andrew Corsa called ... Cosa Avenue! Here it is:
And in doing some more Corsa research I found ... this ... apparently 14 years ago the was a YouTube channel (and perhaps a public access show as well) called CorsaAveTV. It's something! Enjoy.
As a young, overeducated man who grew up with lots of books in the house, I will confess that I had literary pretensions. I dreamed about writing a great book that would be critically acclaimed and would sell big and would be turned into a hit Oscar-winning movie and that I would be rich and famous and happy for the rest of my life.
Yeah, so that didn't happen. I became Mr NYC instead.
But I will confess that, when I was operating under such a delusion, I wanted to write like Rick Moody whose 1994 novel The Ice Storm became a great movie in 1997.
As I write this post, ice has consumed the life of NYC ergo my thoughts are turning to the meaning of ice, of what ice can represent -- beyond the expanding molecules of H2O.
The Ice Storm is a very funny, very dark story about two families in New Canaan, CT, a wealthy suburb of NYC. The story takes places over Thanksgiving, 1973 where the fates of two families tragically collide while an ice storm bears down on them. Interspersed with the domestic drama -- focused on adultery, alchoholism, teen sex & "swapping", drugs, and lives held together by lies -- are wry commentaries about the popular and political culture of early 1970s America. The country is enjoying movies like The Exorcist and books like Breakfast of Champions while the Watergate scandal envolopes the nation -- the idea that darkness and corruption are endemic to the very soul of the country that the characters live in (the October 1973 Saturday Night Massacre had just occurred, as shown below).
In a sense, they and us are already doomed.
The novel is a great read although you'll want to take a breather every so often. Moody's writing is funny but also deeply sarcastic and cynical, very "in quotes", often mocking and derisive in tone. The best word to describe the novel is "acerbic." But the humanity in the darkness of these characters' lives cuts through, and that's what makes it a powerful read. And it has an interesting twist at the end.
The movie is also powerful although a bit more overtly emotional. It was directed by Ang Lee who would later go on to make big hits like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Brokeback Mountain. The cast is amazing -- Kevin Kline, Joan Allen, Sigourney Weaver along with a young Christina Ricci and Elijah Wood. Even more interesting is that this was the film that brought Tobey Magiure, pre-Spiderman, and Katie Holmes, pre-Dawson's Creek/Tom Cruise, into prominence. And it's beautifully directed and shot, the beauty clearly at odds with the ugly lives portrayed.
It also is something of an NYC movie -- this is a story about the commuters, the people who live comfortably outside the city but whose jobs and identities exist there. And at one point the Tobey Maguire character flees to a night of booze and drugs and a failed attempt at sex at an Upper East Side apartment before he flees to Grand Central Terminal before the very real "ice storm" prevents him getting home.
What The Ice Storm reminds us is that darkness and corruption in the personal and political lives of America is nothing new -- it seems to be our constant, perenial existential state. I'm personally interested in this story because it's set just a few short years before I was actually born -- given me a sort of window into the world that I was soon to join.
And given the current weather both real and political, it's a book and a movie more timely than ever.
Since the snowstorm two weeks ago, New York City has entered into a deep freeze.
The snow remains on the ground and various surfaces of the city, literally frozen in place. There are mountains and rocks and fields and valleys of solid snow, glacier-like, making the whole of NYC look like the surface of the moon.
But out of Mother Nature's icy dump on NYC, something else has emerged -- art.
Walking along Riverside Drive recently, I came upon these snow sculptures. What's intriguing about them is that it's impossible to tell if they were man-made or nature-made. Either guess might be correct. But these snow sculptures are a reminder that beautiful things can come out of mess -- and that the natural world and the city have a magical fusion.
Tonight is Super Bowl 60 -- a significant milestone in the history of American football, sports, and culture generally.
But it was the third Super Bowl on January 12, 1969 that took this annual game -- the biggest sports event of the year, the one thing left that unites the entire country into watching it, a moment where a deeply devided nation comes together -- into a a new realm. It was this game between the New York Jets and the Baltimore Colts that made the Super Bowl into the SUPER BOWL.
The Jets entered the game with the quarterback, Joe Namath, dubbed "Broadway Joe", saying that he guaranteed the Jets would win. For most of the game it looked like they wouldn't -- at one point they were 18 points down. Yet under Broadway Joe's steady hand the Jets rallied and came back to win. An historic game, an historic moment in American history, and another milestone in the history of New York City.
Here's the whole game, minute-by-minute, for your viewing pleasure:
When the notification popped up on my phone that the comedic genius Catherine O'Hara died, I put my phone down and hoped that I was just imagining it. But no. It's sadly real -- she's gone, and our world is a lot less funnier.
The tributes to her career are numerous, and the media and public are recalling her works in movies like Beetlejuice I & II, Home Alone, the Christopher Guest mockumentaries, as well as the great TV shows that bookended her career -- SCTV in the late 1970s/early 1980s and Schitt's Creek in the last twenty-teens.
But here at Mr NYC, we remember the off-beat work of great talents, most especially involving those related to the city. And in 1985, between her stint on SCTV and her later big hits, Catherine had a small role in the wackiest movie that Martin Scorsese ever made -- After Hours.
In fact, her future Home Alone co-star John Heard is in it, along with the late Terri Garr. Please check out the Mr NYC After Hours archive -- and remember one of the greatest comic actresses of her era and a movie from a different time in the life of NYC. RIP.
Okay, I promise, this will be the last Out for Justice post ever on Mr NYC. This is the opening credits for one of the best bad NYC movies ever made. They just don't make movies like this any more than are this balls-to-wall politically incorrect, nasty, and fun. Today movies take themselves much too seriously. But back in 1991 some movies still had a sense humor.
On this date 47 years ago, the 41st Vice-President of the United States, Nelson Aldrich Rockefeller, died of a heart attack. He was 70.
"Rocky", as he was known, was the scion of one of the richest families on Earth, and had been the governor of New York State from 1959 to 1973. His legacy in this city and state was significant, as I blogged about many years ago. In 1974 he became Vice-President after President Nixon had resigned and Gerald Ford became president. Rockefeller left office in 1977 and returned to NYC.
Two years later he was dead.
On the night of January 26, 1979, it was announced, as you'll see below, that he had died in his office at Rockefeller Center while working on a book in the presence of his bodyguard.
Ehhh ... not really.
Actually Rocky was in an East Side townhouse that he owned with his secretary Megan Marshack. This townhouse appears to have been a very classy love nest. Rocky and Megan were banging on the floor -- apparently she was riding him cowgirl when the old man had a heart attack. Now she obviously should have called 911 right away as that might have saved his life. But no. Instead she made a series of phone calls to her psychiatrist and her friend who rushed over to the townhouse. Together, apparently, they got Rocky dressed and then the friend called 911. But it was too late. The mighty Rocky -- billionaire, governor, Vice-President, titan of his times -- had died in the most tawdry way possible.
For days and weeks afterwards the scandal fascinated the NYC tabloids. But then ... it just kind of petered out.
The Rockefeller's used their wealth and power to cover it up quite effectively. Rocky was creamated the very next day so no autopsy was performed. Megan Marshak, and presumably her friend, signed NDAs and were probably paid off. Also, it helped that at the same time this scandal was unfolding there was a revolution going on in Iran and that grabbed the headlines. And, of course, Rocky was out of office so this incident had no real political implications.
There were no criminal charges. No arrests. No lawsuits. No legal actions of any kind. No tell-all books or teary interviews or multi-part true crime documentaries.
Amazingly, Megan Marshak remained quiet until her death in October 2024. She lived a relatively productive, and regular life. She worked at CBS News in NYC for almost 20 years before moving to Calfornia and living there until her death. She married later in life, had no children, and died in relative obscurity. Interestingly she was also 70 years old when she died, the same age as the great man she shtupped to death.
Half a century later, most New Yorkers probably haven't heard of Nelson Rockefeller much less the scandalous way that he left this mortal coil.
As NYC prepares for a big snowstorm this weekend, our new mayor is on the case!
This is the first big test of his mayoralty and no doubt the tabloids and the Republicans want him to fail -- so it's good to see Mayor Z is preparing, communicating, and ready to go as this storm hits.
A month in, it's interesting to see what a quiet, competent, nose-to-the-grindstone leader he's been. It's a HUUUUGE relief from the chaos of Eric Adams.
And talking about our former, unmissed mayor, the great NYC journalist Erroll Louis has written an interesting article about how the full scale of corruption in the Adams administration is still unknown. Even though he was only in office for four years, he number of people who worked for Adams that got indicted, the number of sleazy deals and activities, is breathtaking. It remind me of Nixon -- even years, decades after he resigned in disgrace, documents and tapes kept coming out revealing he was even worse that we knew. I'm sure the same is true of Eric Adams.
Over the years something'll pop up in the NYC tabloids about Richie Akiva. He's a big club owner/party promoter/nightlife guru whose run clubs like Butter and 10Oak and others.
Richie has a lot of celebrity friends, was part of Leo's "pussy posse", dated an Olsen twin, and he's just one of the best-connected happening party guys in town.
He's also something of a criminal.
Last year he was busted for driving without a license. He's been involved in all kinds of lawsuits, accused of ripping off former business partners, and now he's been arrested for beating a guy in the head with a metal pipe.
Egads.
Richie's got some problems. It reminds me of that movie I blogged about a few years ago, Out for Justice, which is all about a crime boss named Richie who the heroic cop is looking for -- "Anybody seen Richie?" is his constant refrain.
Here's a interesting postscript: I actually went to school with Richie Akiva way back in the day. We were in 9th grade together but then, I recall, he vanished -- he was kicked out. (I remember it was from Richie that I first learned the term "herb" as being a pejorative.) He wound up a private school for rich juvenile deliquents.
And that's the thing -- Richie's a rich kid.
He was born into a wealthy family who set him up in the club business. He walks and talks, dresses and behaves like a badass, but he's really just a spoiled brat. And it looks like fate is catching up with him.
Last year, after my visit to Paris, I blogged about the amazing exhibit there displaying items from the movies of Wes Anderson.
Few directors have as unique an aesthetic as Anderson, all of his movies have a certain look and feel and mood that binds them together. Several of his movies contains objects that are specific to his oddball universe -- part of the painterly look that his movies have.
Anyway, the Wes Anderson exhibit is going on the road and is only now being written about in the USA -- so, my blog post from last year is year another example of how Mr NYC is Ahead of His Time.
Last year I blogged a lot about the rise of Zohran Mamdani from an largely unknown State Assemblyman into the Mayor of NYC. You can read about all of that here.
And now, ladies and gentlemen ... here iz Hizzoner ...
