Located at 110 East 11th Street in Greenwich Village, the billiards joint (also a cafe and bar) was founded in 1989 by comedian David Brenner and brothers Greg and Ethan Hunt, per the joint's web site. I have fond memories of seeing Brenner on late-night talk shows and elsewhere on TV when I was a kid.
While the billiards place is 35 years old, evidently "this venue has a rich history that dates back to the charming Greenwich Village in 1940," according to this Billiard Bay article. I'm not sure if it was a pool hall back in those days, or what it was. I made the photo above because I dig the sign.
This building stands today, but a handful of buildngs of the same generation weren't so lucky, as they were torn down to make way for, ugh, the hotel where we stayed.
As I exited the Uber that my wife, daughter and I took from the train station, I said to myself, "Whoa! We're right across from Webster Hall!"
I'm not sure why I said this, as I have no connection nor much knowledge of the historic New York City concert venue. I think I first heard of Webster Hall back in the late '90s when I worked for an Internet company and we paid attention to bands webcasting live performances from there. Anyway, let's use my lack of familiarity about this place on East 11th Street to learn something.
"Webster Hall was built in 1886 by architect Charles Rentz in the Queen Anne style and topped with an elaborate mansard roof," according to Wikipedia. "Six years later in 1892, Rentz was hired to design an addition to the building, occupying the site of 125 East 11th Street and designed in the Renaissance Revival style using the same materials as the original building. Throughout the early twentieth century the building was plagued by fires, which occurred in 1902, 1911, 1930, 1938, and 1949. The original mansard roof was likely lost in one of these fires."
Damn, did they hire an arsonist act as part of the vaudeville nights? Yeesh.
A little more from Wikipedia: "The first decade or so of Webster Hall's existence saw it host countless labor union rallies, weddings, meetings, lectures, dances, military functions, concerts, fundraisers and other events, particularly those focused on the working-class and immigrant population of the surrounding Lower East Side neighborhood. Although it also hosted many high-society functions catering to the uppertens (new word for me - DB) of the city, the hall earned a reputation as a gathering place for leftist, socialist, Anarchist and labor union activity very early on."
Since 1992, the hall has been operated by the Ballinger brothers as a place for concerts and corporate events, and includes a recording studio. The night we stayed across the street, actor and comedian John Early, who I've never heard of, was on stage.
This is the second of several quick-hit posts about some of the things I saw during a brief visit to New York City in October. The first one is available here.
In mid-October my wife and I traveled with our daughter to take a tour of New York University. I had time the morning before our walkabout to check out the neighborhood, camera in hand. I headed south on 4th Avenue in Greenwich Village and within a short time found myself looking up at this amazing sign.
First, I'm happy to report that the clock inside the eighth note on the former Carl Fischer Music Building is accurate, although it appears some sort of renovation of the massive timepiece was going on. I'm also thrilled that when this music publisher's home was converted to condos, the developer kept the eye-grabbing sign. I mean, it's worth it to attract eyeballs and for giving directions, right?!
As for the building: "For over seventy-five years it housed the printery and a retail store for the Carl Fischer Music company," per this Off the Grid blog post from the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation. "The company’s founder, Carl Fischer, was born in Germany and immigrated to New York in 1872. He opened a musical instrument store on East 4th Street between First and Second Avenues, and soon expanded into sheet music publishing. By 1880 the company expanded to a larger space on Cooper Square, but it wasn’t until 1922 that the building we see today was built."
The company is still in business today, albeit in a different location since 1999: Wall Street in Manhattan's Financial District. The company's "publications span multiple genres, ranging from concert music to jazz, classics, popular and choral works while representing the major instrumental groups, including woodwinds, strings, brass, percussion, voice, keyboard, and fretted instruments," per its web site. "Carl Fischer Music publications are available for purchase at over 2,000 retailers worldwide."
This is the first of several quick-hit posts about some of the things I saw during my brief visit to New York City.
There may be another song about furtively walking through the narrow back streets of a city, but I don't know of it. Robert Palmer's cornered the market in my mind, so that's the soundtrack and headline inspiration for this post about my initial exploration of a few of Boston's many public alleys. I hope to check out more as time goes on, as I am fascinated by these perfect embodiments of the backside of America.
After checking out a Boston Open Market adjacent to Boston Common on a beautiful early October Saturday, I set off to roam nearby and within a minute found myself standing in front of Public Alley 438, just north of the Arlington Street Church in Back Bay. I've walked through some of Boston's alleys before, sometimes in service of this blog, other times just for the hell of it. And for a while I've had it in my head to do a more thorough survey of them and write about them here.
So, I figured as I stood there peering into the shadows, what better time than now, with no other plan in mind for the afternoon?
The first thing that caught my eye as I strolled along this alley, which runs behind buildings on both Boylston and Newbury streets, was perhaps the ideal siting of the day.
Brooks Brothers is a storied American luxury clothing brand. Founded in 1818 in Manhattan, the retail chain has grown to include more around 150 stores worldwide, down from a high of more than 200 before the company declared bankruptcy a few years ago.
When I think of rich people, I think of Brooks Brothers. I'm sure that would swell the heart of any man wearing a Classic Fit Patch Pocket Sport Coat in Wide-Wale Cotton Corduroy. But I also love a nice contrast, such as a faded-and-amateur printed sign on a small back-alley door for one of the world's premier fashion outlets. This small, rusty and rather secure-looking door is at the rear of 46 Newbury Street, where Brooks Brothers once was located. The Boston store currently occupies 109 Newbury Street.
There are a lot of these types of small doors in Boston's public alleys, some at ground level like this one, others raised up quite a bit higher as we'll see further down this post. They were likely used for deliveries of coal or ice and other products in use in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
When I hit Berkeley Street, where Public Alley 438 ends, I walked north across Newbury Street and then headed east in Public Alley 437. This narrow way runs parallel to Newbury Street and Commonwealth Avenue, and, like most of the other alleys I traversed, is where people who live in this high-priced district park their cars. This alley also faces the rear end of Emmanuel Church in the City of Boston.
The church was consecrated in 1862 and was the first building completed on Newbury Street. It's a beautiful and historic house of worship, but alas, it's not perfect.
I'll forgive that small blemish, especially in light of the fact that the most adorable door I saw on this tour leads into the church.
This small door leads to the Puppeteers Collaborative and Puppet Library, which were founded in 1976 by Sara Peattie and the late George Konoff, according to this article in The Hungtington News, which is an independent student newspaper at Boston's Northeastern University.
I love that the door is child-sized, and I smile when I think of adults stooping to get into the workshop.
I didn't go to the end of this alley, as it leads under The Newbury Boston, a luxury hotel, and all I saw was a loading dock and some dumpsters. I doubled back across Berkeley Street and found myself looking at a lovely little detail on the rear of the Church of the Covenant, while standing in Public Alley 436.
Built in 1867, the church "includes 42 large Tiffany windows, a gigantic glass lantern, rare Tiffany glass mosaics, complex paint schemes, elaborate trusses and traceries, a bronze chancel rail, organ screens, decorative wainscoting, chancel furniture, a eagle lectern, a pulpit, pews, a baptismal font," per its web site.
I'd love to get inside some day to see that. But that little basement window underneath a back exit, next to a garbage can, looks pretty damn good to me, too.
So let's take a break to learn about these public alleys. There are a lot of them; the more I look at Google Maps, the more of them I find. There are also private alleys. Most, if not all, of them originally served the same purpose: as entry points for deliveries of coal, ice, food supplies and who knows what else (guns? love letters? banned books? alcohol during Prohibition?). They are located in neighborhoods where the buildings date to the mid-19th century through the early 20th.
"Originally, all of the alleys were private, with each property owner owning the land to the middle of the passageway and each deed containing easements for common passage and drainage by the owners of the other lots on the block," according to this Back Bay Houses article. "As private property, the alleys were the responsibility of the owners, not the city, to maintain. Inattention and inability to reach agreement among the owners about maintenance led to significant deterioration. In the 1890s, the poor maintenance and condition of the alleys became a matter of increasing public concern.
"In 1898, the Massachusetts Legislature granted the City of Boston the authority to take jurisdiction over alleys 25 feet or less in width....The City subsequently designated all but three alleys in the residential portion of the Back Bay as public alleys and took responsibility for their maintenance," the article continues. This designation holds for public alleys in other parts of the city.
Today, the alleys, many of which are about 16 feet wide, lead to residential parking and, in some cases, entry points into apartments and condominiums. Restaurants have large trash bins in some of the alleys, which means there are of course rats scurrying around. I imagine flooding is a problem in some of them.
I didn't see any members of the Rattus norvegicus family on this tour, but I did see chained-up bicycles, idling food-delivery scooters, other folks ambling along, back windows into expensive shops and much more. I imagine the alleys see their share of drug-dealing and prostitution in certain areas, as well as quirky middle-aged men making photos of rusty fire escapes, odd doorways and church windows.
OK, let's get back to the sites.
Where Public Alley 436 meets Clarendon Street, I made a photo of a back gate and a lovely trio of windows.
This is the rectory of nearby Trinity Church. The building dates to 1880 and was designed by architecture giant H.H. Richardson, per Wikipedia. I featured this building in a post nearly five years ago about this area of Boston (see March 11, 2020, "A Walk Through Boston's Back Bay & Copley Square").
I continued west down Public Alley 435 and there, across from a trio of what are likely very expensive parking spaces, and a garage with a fenced patio on top (some real money here...), I was happy to see a side alley with garbage cans and other signs of the back of a restaurant.
I love skirting the edges of society, where different cultures, lifestyles, economic positions and ways of life clash. That's what I liked most about exploring the alleys of the ritzy area of Back Bay: lots of money in the parking spots and condos and private gardens and shops and restaurants. But a different reality, in the form of garbage, smelly puddles, rat traps, dark corners and hidden history stands right there, too.
I crossed Dartmouth Street and near the western end of Public Alley 434, I saw some Mexican pride hanging in a window at the rear of 184 Commonwealth Avenue.
In a few steps I was agog at one of my favorite buildings in Boston: the First Spiritual Temple at the corner of Exeter and Newbury Streets. Even standing in the shadows of an alley, with little room to step back, look up and take in all the grandeur of Hartwell and Richardson's creation, I was in awe.
I crossed Exeter Street and headed down Public Alley 433. I dug the very non-chic back entrance to 208 Commonwealth Avenue, where condos run in excess of $700,000.
At the intersection of Fairfield Street and Public Alley 432 is a lovely building known historically as the Asa Potter house. I was hypnotized by the fire escapes.
The house was completed in 1877 and had one of the first residential elevators in the Back Bay, per this article at Back Bay Houses.
A short distance west along the alley and I encountered a tableau of colors too lovely to ignore.
This is the back door to La Neta Pinche Taco Shop, at 255 Newbury Street. There's so much going on in this scene: the blue trash bin contrasting with the white linen box; the yellow cage for propane tanks bumping against the white barrels; the green trash bin anchoring the right side; the boxes and plastic storage containers filled with ingredients; the scooter that an employee might have ridden to work. All of these items tell stories about the food industry that most customers don't see or think about.
Speaking of the food industry....
Across Gloucester Street, at the east end of Public Alley 431, is Casa Romero, a Mexican restaurant that's been in business since 1972. When I posted this photo on Instagram, a few of my followers vouched for the eatery's excellence. This place has to be good, considering its alleyway entrance.
Continuing across Hereford Street and into Public Alley 430, I came across one of the more decadent elements I've seen in the Back Bay.
What this not-so-great photo is showing you is part of an extensive roof deck/parking garage/covered parking structure that stretches behind several Commonwealth Avenue buildings, some of which are ivy-covered. I tried to find out more about this feature, but was unable to do so. If anyone knows about it, please share.
Just before the western end of Public Alley 430 at Massachusetts Avenue, the combination of window reflection, peeling paint (ironic considering this is at the rear of a Johnson Paint store) and some scuffed-up brick spoke to me.
I headed south on Mass. Ave., unsure exactly where I would find my next alley, although I knew there were plenty of options. I went east on Boylston Street, then past the beautiful pair of buildings occupied by Boston Architectural College and Boston Fire Department's Ladder 15 and Engine 33 companies, and turned north on Hereford Street. And boom - Public Alley 444 to my left.
The small brick building in the foreground may have been a stable or firehouse in its original incarnation, based on its front facade. The Brutalist building looming in the background is the primary home of the previously mentioned architectural college (I believe the shorter brick building is also part of that institution). The six-story concrete block, which was completed in 1966, was designed by Ashley, Meyer & Associates. The 50-foot architectural trompe l'oeil mural seen here from the alley was painted on the west elevation in 1979 by artist Richard Haas.
I headed back across Hereford and into Public Alley 443, where I immediately saw a curious white door about 6-8 feet above the sidewalk.
I can picture a horse-drawn wagon from Brookline Ice & Coal slogging through the mud, stopping in front of this door and loading product into a kitchen or boiler room. This is the rear of The Tennis & Racquet Club, which was founded in 1902 in this Classical Revival building designed by the firm of Parker & Thomas. "[T}he oldest athletic and social club in the city of Boston...[t]he club is known for its century-old tradition of court tennis (the regal, slate-walled ancestors of all racquet sports), the unique and exciting game of racquets, and its top-rated squash program," per its web site.
I can smell the sweat of early-20th century Boston Brahmins through the walls, and taste their cognac.
(No trespassing sign right around the corner from the funky white door.)
Several restaurants and bars back up to Public Alley 443. Below is one of many large garbage bins located there.
I believe "NNN" refers to this band, who I'd never heard of.
I debated making the photo below, as it's a personal decoration outside someone's apartment window. But I couldn't resist.
After crossing Fairfield Street into Public Alley 441, I made the shot below. That rusty duct just hit me right.
A little further down that alley, I felt the need to document the truth of the sign below.
Correct. There are no dumpsters here. But what's in that rat death trap?
Below is my favorite image from my back-alley jaunt.
I don't recall exactly where this totally random set of lockers was located, and it doesn't even matter. I just love the light blue of the lockers against the reds and whites and browns of the bricks. And I wonder: who put the lockers there? Why? Why are some of them open? And what's with the paint can?
I went back across Exeter Street into Public Alley 440. There, I found the sneaky way into Old South Church.
The sanctuary rose in 1875, the third building to stand on this site.
To wrap up my trip, I took a rare selfie in Public Alley 439, somewhere between Dartmouth and Clarendon streets.
Hope you enjoyed this trek through the underbelly of one of Boston's most chic neighborhoods. Keep your eyes peeled for more back-alley adventures in the near future!
