Man Made Lake

Cast-Iron SoHo

    Prior to setting the standard for gentrifying warehouse districts and achieving unmatched name recognition, SoHo was known as the Cast Iron District.

From Wikipedia:
    "SoHo boasts the greatest collection of cast iron structures in the world. Approximately 250 cast iron buildings stand in New York City and the majority of them are in SoHo. Cast iron was initially used as a decorative front over a pre-existing building. With the addition of modern, decorative facades, older industrial buildings were able to attract new commercial clients. Most of these facades were constructed during the period from 1840 to 1880. In addition to revitalizing older structures, buildings in SoHo were later designed to feature the cast iron.

    "An American architectural innovation, cast iron was cheaper to use for facades than materials such as stone or brick. Molds of ornamentation, prefabricated in foundries, were used interchangeably for many buildings, and a broken piece could be easily recast. The buildings could be erected quickly, some were built in only four months' time. Despite the brief construction period, the quality of the cast iron designs was not sacrificed. Previously, bronze had been the metal most frequently used for architectural detail. Architects now found that the relatively inexpensive cast iron could form the most intricately designed patterns. Classical French and Italian architectural designs were often used as models for these facades. And because stone was the material associated with architectural masterpieces, cast iron, painted in neutral tints such as beige, was used to simulate stone."

    In the late 1960's the powers that were wanted to ram the Lower Manhattan Expressway ("LoMEX") through the neighborhood, among others, and bulldoze the majority of the building stock.  A now infamous opposition movement stopped the expressway from being built, in part because preservationists argued that the areas cast-iron buildings held architectural significance.

    I find a certain irony in the preservation of SoHo's cast-iron architecture.  The original appeal was the ability to cheaply imitate older styles.  The facades were made of metal, but painted to look like stone.  Now these "fake-old" structures are themselves deemed historic.  How long do I have to wait before the vinyl siding and aluminum awnings in my neighborhood become bohemian?

    Regardless, the throngs of locals and tourists alike who flock to SoHo's flagship stores and overpriced restaurants don't even realize that they are surrounded by anything but pretty buildings.

Hamilton Heights 2

    It occurred to me recently that I have lived my entire adult life in neighborhoods that have either recently gentrified or are transitioning in that direction.  While that's not very long, I've still learned a thing or two about the process.  Often it takes only one business to jump start a revival.  A nice restaurant or a hip record store can give people the impression that there's a reason to come here, cool stuff to do.  The business is followed by new residents, which are in turn followed by more businesses, and before you know it rents have doubled. 

   Five years ago I used to take the #4-Fessenden bus to my chemistry class at Portland Community College.  Mississippi Street was, at the time, a pizza shop, a corner store, some drug addicts and a lot of empty storefronts.  Then the Fresh Pot set up shop at Mississippi and Shaver.  Condescending staff, rustic decor, ironic art, unbearable music, and specialty coffee.  The place became such a hipster HQ that a long row of bike parking had to be installed outside.  Eighteen months later, some of the city's most celebrated restaurants were taking reservations and high-end glass-and-metal apartment buildings were breaking ground.

   It doesn't always work out that easily.  Plenty neighborhoods have been overhyped and the doggie daycares go under.  But the time was just right for Mississippi Street.  Investors were kicking themselves for being so hesitant about gentrifying slums in other parts of the east side.  There was a steady flow of young people into Portland who would gladly facilitate the transition.  Everything fell into place.

   With that in mind, I've long wondered if it would make sense for real estate types to finance a small coffee shop that catered to the young creative jet-set types, a crowd that wasn't all the way there yet.  Maybe even pay well dressed twenty-somethings to hang around and chain smoke with a detached expression.  Instead of generating hype with stupid subway ads they could take the back door, "guerrilla advertising" if you will.

   From the photos above, the bottom pic is a coffee shop at West 159th Street and Edgecombe Avenue near the Harlem-Washington Heights border.  For the most part, the place was very Dominican, as expected.  There was no bathroom, everything was put in a paper bag and then a plastic bag, even if you were going to eat it there, and the disarming woman behind the counter, who barely spoke English, didn't mind that I was a dollar short and told me to bring her the rest tomorrow.  On the other hand, there was something suspiciously caucasian about the place.  The walls, painted yellow, were adorned with art, albeit art that looked as though it didn't take much time or thought.  The music sounded like an alternative rock station on digital radio.  (I heard hits from Smashing Pumpkins and Mazzy Star, not exactly current, but more or less fits the image.)  And, whitest of all, they served espresso.  Most of the people who came in were Dominican, except for the one white dude in $200 jeans (not me, I'm the homeless guy who peed in the park across the street).  Although there are several commercial strips in the area bursting with activity, this was the lone business on a residential street. 

   There was something creepy about the place, like they had anticipated me.  It didn't really belong there but it was exactly what I was looking for.  Am I the young professional, recently relocated to New York, who would move uptown if they just had a damn coffeeshop?  Already the gears were turning: cheaper rent, better parks, but bad grocery stores, no youth culture, farther from the action. 

   Meanwhile, a group of hopeful realtors were watching me from a control room in midtown.  I am now, almost without realizing it, playing my part in the game by writing about this very coffee shop on a blog about neighborhoods and infrastructure.  Although this isn't exactly a major news source, I am only one man.  Perhaps their investment will pay off.

Hamilton Heights, Manhattan

History of the average residential neighborhood in New York:

1. New housing built for an emerging middle class escaping tenement life.
2. Post-war decline.
3. 21st century resurgence as professionals are priced out of other neighborhoods.

    Follow the text on New York posts from this blog, the story is pretty consistent.  Hamilton Heights in West Harlem is no different.  A "neighborhood in transition," as they say, outrageously ornate brownstones on squeaky clean streets are just around the corner from storefront churches and garbage-strewn liquor stores.  Stick to the Sugar Hill Historic District north of 145th Street or in the vicinity of Riverside Drive and you're guaranteed a treat.

Tribeca, Manhattan

    "I think this building should be condemned.  There's serious metal fatigue in all the load-bearing members, the wiring is substandard, it's completely inadequate for our power needs, and the neighborhood is like a demilitarized zone" said Egon Spengler of the firehouse that became Ghostbusters HQ. 

    The Lower West Side of 1984, however, is long gone.  Bursting with luxury condos and fine dining, today the "triangle below Canal street" is the 12th richest zip code in the United States.  Perhaps Egon was just hustling the broker, but, at any rate, it would have been a fabulous investment.

Inwood, Manhattan

    Take the 1 train uptown from Times Square, all through the park, past Harlem, past Washington Heights, all the way to the iddy-biddy tip of Manhattan Isle.  Get off at 207th street.

    A stable Jewish/Irish neighborhood for generations, Inwood consistently elicits disbelief with it's quiet, sleepy atmosphere that is still technically Manhattan.   Hilly parks with huge exposed bedrock offer last glimpses of what precolonial Manhattan looked like.