1. A Confounding Epidemic (Off the Grid)
Once a marsh, and then farmlands, the West Village really only took off as a neighborhood in the early 19th Century when disease beset the city for those living “downtown,” as a Hamptons-like escape for New York’s wealthiest, thought far enough away to avoid contracting cholera or yellow fever. Ironically, these epidemics did make their way up-river, and when New York City adopted the rigid grid plan for its streets in 1811, Greenwich Village had been isolated from the rest of the city. Workers dared not enter, so the bending lanes and meandering mews remain today much as they were in the late 1700s. Blocks built at odd angles followed the riverbank at Greenwich Street—before landfill was added further west. When the extension of 7th Avenue was added in 1917 connecting Greenwich Avenue to Varick Street, it sliced through creating more triangular corners and additional apexes—continuing to confuse tourists to this day.
2. Crime and Punishment (Prison Break)
On West and Christopher Streets, near where the luxury Richard Meier glass towers are now located, once stood Newgate Prison, New York State’s first penitentiary. It was a model prison practicing the position that convicts could be rehabilitated through hard work and education. However, when that didn’t work, its proximity to the infamous hanging elm in Washington Square Park also meant that it was an easy march to the ultimate punishment. In 1828, it was already overcrowded and closed, but mosaic plaques still line the walls at the Sheridan Square subway stop. In 1877, the Jefferson Market was built as a courthouse and jail, and by 1932 a huge annex was added: a detention center devoted entirely to women, most of them convicted of prostitution. Apparently the inmates on higher floors catcalled men on the streets making for excellent street theater, while lewd behavior and scandalous shows in a real theater landed the legendary Mae West behind bars here.
3. A River Runs Through It
Charming Minetta Street bends to follow the original path of its namesake, Minetta Creek. Native Americans called it Manette, or Devil’s water, and it certainly flowed with wicked determination, even when forced underground. At two miles long, Minetta Creek was among the largest natural watercourses in Manhattan .The creek was filled in the 1820s but persisted to forge its path deep beneath the city, disrupting construction projects throughout this century. It streamed into the West Fourth Street subway line site in 1928, filled the construction pit of the Jefferson Market in 1929, and even delaying construction of Jimi Hendrix’s Electric Lady Studios in 1969. Today you can see a remnant of the buried river at 2 Fifth Avenue just north of Washington Square Park. When the building was built in the 1930s, a clear glass “fountain” was installed—not much more than a plexiglass tube jutting up into the lobby—with a commemorative plaque dedicated to the creek. x
4. Roots, Rhythms and Ruckus
The path that followed Minetta Creek had an even richer history before it was paved. “Partially freed” slaves were allowed to farm the land here as early at the 1640s, and by 1830, after slavery was abolished in New York, many of the city’s 14,083 freed Black population lived in the area that surrounds the Minettas (the street and the lane). Then known as Little Africa, many worked as domestic servants for those living in the wealthy residences around the park, and brought with them the rich musical history—blues and jazz—for which the neighborhood is still well-known. “Black and tan” saloons, called dives, were popular and some of the first public places to encourage integration. These bars had a mixed-race clientele, mostly African Americans and Irish gangsters, and were rowdy and morally lax. The Golden Swan, owned by a former prizefighter, stayed open all hours, and though fights broke out regularly, it was a hot spot for artists and bohemians of all races.
5. Dancing Queens (The Days of Disco)
Openly gay bars like nearby Slide on The Golden Rule Pleasure Club were also active in the 1890s, but the first gay, leather bar pre Stonewall was Keller’s—dating to the 50s. It had one of the best juke boxes in the city, filled with music that would become known as disco. A new genre of music was born, along with funky new dance moves and groovy ways of dressing. The Village People were photographed in front for their famous album cover. Keller’s Hotel was originally built in 1898. During the Depression, the Keller served as a flophouse for out-of-work sailors, who boozed and brawled in its ground-floor saloon. As the decades passed and economic forces pushed ships to other docks, the Village deteriorated and an alternative clientele moved into Keller’s, which finallyclosed its doors exactly a century after the building opened. The vertical, vintage Hotel sign still hangs today as a reminder and the building was land-marked in 2006 by the Landmarks Preservation Commission.
6. A Rescue, RuPaul, And A Rooftop Bar. (Set Sail for the Jane/A Safe Destination)
Only in the West Village could you find a hotel that housed the survivors of the Titanic, where in the ‘80s and ‘90s RuPaul rented the turret-like penthouse, preserved and renovated—and reinvented it as one of the hippest and hottest and boutique hotels around. Originally completed in 1908, the American Seaman’s Home and Institute was designed by William A. Boring, the architect renowned for Ellis Island’s immigration station. In 1912 the rescued survivors of the Titanic stayed at the hotel and held a memorial service there four days after the ship sank. The landmarked hotel was lovingly restored on its centennial. Its quirky ship-cabin-like rooms are still quite affordable and the Captains Quarters are larger and more luxurious for a splurge. Today you can visit the fantastic bar and ballroom, decorated in Moroccan motif with a huge disco ball, oil paintings and well-placed taxidermy—a giant white mountain goat standson the mantle of the large fireplace. Rich fabrics and zebra-striped sofas abound, making it a great neighborhood destination to take guests for a well-mixed cocktail.
7. You Can’t Predict the Weather (Stormy Weather: A Dark History)
You might get lost in thought walking down the beautiful block of West 10th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues with its continuous rows of brownstones on either side of the quiet tree-lined streets. However, if you are observant, one façade might jar your thoughts and catch your attention, its bay windows jutting out four feet past the neighboring buildings at a sharp, piercing angle. This architecture is intentional, serving as a reminder of the events of March 6th, 1970. Five members of the radical Weather Underground accidentally detonated dynamite at a makeshift bomb factory in the basement of 18 West 11th Street, disrupting the peaceful neighborhood; three were killed and two escaped and avoided capture for a decade. The landmark is worth a look, especially after the previous owners who bought the vacant lot in 1977 and helped realize the architect Hugh Hardy’s vision, passed in 2012. The house was put on the market and has been recently been purchased by new owners whose identity is hidden behind a mysterious LLC. Go quickly; permits have been filed to erect a new four-story residence on the site.
8. Washington Square: The Center Of It All
Washington Square was built in 1826 on a potter’s field, or public burial ground, used mainly for burying unknown or indigent people and later those who died from the yellow fever epidemic. Even with masses buried underground, many flocked above ground; the park immediately became a hub of politics and culture. Throughout this century it has been a gathering spot for writers, artists, hippies, and musicians, and has a lengthy history of social activism, from the first labor march in the city, to a march commemorating the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, to the Beatnik Riot in 1961. More recently Barack Obama held a rally in Washington Square in 2007 and Occupy Wall Street marched in the park in 2012. The renovations begun in 2007 proved equally controversial as local politicians argued over whether or not to move the original fountain east to be centered with the arch. In the end, the city paid $30 million to move the fountain 22 feet, that according to online sources and my discerning eye, is still a few inches off.
9. The Original Cappuccino Maker
Long before Starbucks arrived on every corner, Domenico Parisi introduced Italian Cappuccino to America in the early ‘30s at the now-famous coffee house, Caffe Reggio, on MacDougal Street. His original espresso machine—made in 1902 and bought with his life savings—is still displayed inside the café. The interior is more chic than shabby; you’ll be transported to another era as you sit on the 500-year-old bench from a palace of the mighty Florentine Medici family from the Renaissance. Speaking of royalty, in 1959 presidential hopeful John F. Kennedy made a speech right outside its doors. The coffee shop has been featured in a plethora of movies over the years, including The Godfather II, Serpico, and Shaft.
10. I Heard It Through the Grapevine
Maybe you already knew these facts, or maybe you Heard It Through the Grapevine, but do you know the origins of the song? Located on the Southeast Corner of Sixth Avenue and 11th Street, The Old Grapevine was another legendary Village Bar in the early 19th Century–and the inspiration for the song written by Norman Whitfield and Barret Strong in 1966, its reputation lasting long after the bar was closed in 1915. The Grapevine attracted artists, businessmen, Union officers, Southern spies, and politicians who dropped by after visiting Jefferson Market two blacks south. A quaint clapboard house partially covered in a giant grapevine, according to The New York Times it was known as a place to warm the inner man, where good fellows met, to match their wits, tell the latest stories, and discuss politics. Inner man indeed—no women were allowed and in fact the owner prided himself on never selling a drink to a woman. Luckily today there are plenty of choices for libations in the neighborhood for those of all sexes and persuasions.
