I See a City

My Pleasantville daughter Nancy got me a coffee table book, 'I See A City', from the Village bookstore. It is a collection of 1940s black and white photos taken by Todd Webb, with separate essays by Sean Corcoran and Daniel Okrent. I am familiar with Okrent from an obituary talk years and years ago at the New York Public Library and from his book on Prohibition, 'Last Call.' He was also the first public editor at the NYT, a job he told the audience at NYPL that meant he was head of the Complaint Department.

Of course this book is right up my alley. New York City. Photos. Reading Okrent's essay it occurs to me that it is always those not born in NYC who seem to write the most poetically about the town. I know Okrent is from Detroit, and he of course admits in his opening sentences that he arrived from the Midwest when the subway fare was 20¢ in the late 60s.

As he mentions, the city in the photos could still be seen in places even in the late 60s. Of course, being born in the city when the fare was 15¢, I've got Okrent beat by probably two decades. I walked past some of these places when I delivered flowers in the early 60s. I seem to remember Sig Klein's 'FAT MEN'S SHOP' sign. I remember the old gold leaf lettering on windows. And I do remember a 'BIG AND TALL' sign for men's clothes. 

It is obvious from the book that Todd Webb took lots of pictures along 3rd Avenue when the El was still there. Even after it came down there were still stores like the ones in his photos in the 60s.

Okrent is right when he says you can still find this past just by turning the pages of the book. I close my eyes and do that all the time.

The photographer, Todd Webb is famous for his New York photos. And if he didn't take any other than the 8 frames he edited together of an entire block of 6th Avenue between 43rd and 44th Streets, then he would still be famous.

The panorama is a masterpiece of presenting an entire city clock as one photo, with closeup detail evident throughout. This was then and now, a commercial strip of the city. The 1940s signage is priceless, and the prices displayed in the windows even more priceless. It is hard to believe a steam table gin joint named Martins could pay the rent and utilities while asking 30¢ for either corned beef, pastrami, roast beef, Virginia ham or fresh ham hot sandwiches.

My own memory of what a lunch cost at a Blarney Stone in the late 60s was that for 95¢ you got a hot sandwich, with pickles and a stein of beer. That's change from a dollar. Another stein was 15¢.

The book is certainly for New Yorkers. And for those who became New Yorkers.

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