Give Us A Movie House

I took the above picture just over a year ago. Not only was I amused by what this person wrote, I agreed: Greenpoint does not need any more banks and yes, a movie theater would be an excellent addition to the neighborhood. What did we end up getting when all was said and done? Another god damned bank.

My sole consolation is the Bank of America (the site where the above photo was taken) and Citibank seem to be pretty popular places for the local homeless population to conduct their business— and by “business” I mean going to the bathroom and having sex. I would love to see the surveillance camera footage from these establishments. I bet it is hilarious, but I digress.

The perverse irony is Greenpoint once had six movies theaters. Yes, six. Here they are were in order from south to north.

1. Nassau Theatre (now The Princess Manor)
   88 Nassau Avenue
2. Winthrop Theater (demolished)
   135 Driggs Avenue
3. Meserole Theatre (now Eckerd’s, I think Rite Aid)
   723 Manhattan Avenue
4. RKO Greenpoint (demolished)
   825 Manhattan Avenue
5. American Theater (then Chopin Theater, now Starbucks)
   910 Manhattan Avenue
6. Midway Theater (demolished)
   1059 Manhattan Avenue

The following story from the December 10, 1929 edition of the New York Times is about one of these establishments: the long gone RKO Greenpoint. Enjoy!

The above tale gives us a(nother) splendid reason for wanting a movie theater: they prevent crime. I see a letter campaign to the mayor coming around the corner folks!

Miss Heather

The Greenpoint Monitor Museum

No, I am not talking about that Monitor Museum. Rather, I am referring to the rapid proliferation of monitors in this tree pit on McGuinness Boulevard. When I walked by this location October 19, there was but a solitary Mac.

A little over 48 hours later, however, I noticed the curator of this open air museum saw fit to diversify his (or her) collection with the addition of a P.C.

Or is that two P.C.s? Truth be told, it is kind of hard to tell.

Those of your who wish to make a donation to Greenpoint’s other Monitor Museum can take your (non-tax deductible) ‘contribution’ to the tree pit south of Freeman Street on McGuinness Boulevard. Macs and P.C.s are equally welcome. Upon receipt our highly trained panel of experts will ensure your generous gift is fucked up beyond all recognition.

Miss Heather

Peace on Franklin Street

This can be seen on Franklin between Green and Freeman Street.

Miss Heather

Happenings at 209 1/2 Eckford Street

Saturday was one of those days when my husband and I could not agree on anything. Even the route for walking to Grand Street was the source of much debate. I wanted to use Kent Avenue, Mr. Heather preferred Diamond or Newel Street. My being pretty adamant about avoiding Karl Fischer’s giant green monstrosity forced us to reach a compromise: Eckford Street.

This street too has its fair share of eyesores, but for whatever reason I seem to find them a little more tolerable than their companions to the east. In fact, I find Crater Lake hilarious in its own dark way. But back to my story.

When we reached 209 1/2 Eckford, arguably one of the ugliest sights on this street, I noticed something was amiss.

Intrigued, I went in for a closer look.

Bridge Realty, part of the unholy alliance that has blessed Greenpoint with such monuments to fine architecture and good taste as Belvedere I (through infinity), has been performing a little work on this “fixer-upper”.

Slip shod work.

Is that hole supposed to be there? Just curious.

And in keeping with the pervasive atmosphere of lawlessness that is the Greenpoint development feeding frenzy, the previous came to pass without the issuance or posting of the appropriate permits.

But the story does not end here, dear readers. No sir. Upon crossing Norman Avenue— which is only a short distance from 209 1/2 Eckford Street, I beheld something I have only seen in Greenpoint twice before. Excited, I immediately started taking pictures of my discovery. My husband even tore himself away from futzing around with his new cell phone to see what the subject of all my fuss and photography was.

Me: Sam, this is the third time I have seen one of these cars! It’s like seeing Bigfoot, Sasquatch or the Yeti! I wonder what it is doing here?
Sam: Maybe the guy lives here?

Excellent point. The driver of this car may very well live in Greenpoint. It’s not like he (or she) performs much (if any) work here.

Miss Heather

Greenpoint’s Very Own Imperial Storm Trooper

Like most people who were born in the 1970’s, I was raised on the Star Wars Trilogy. The REAL Star War Trilogy, that is. Not the recent trio of clap trap whose sole purpose for creation seems to be fleecing and disappointing the movie-going public.

I always found the Deathstar to be particularly fascinating. Not unlike Randal from the movie Clerks, I still find myself asking a lot of questions about what it would be like to be under the employ of the Emperor and stroll the corridors of this stylishly evil space station. For example:

Did Darth Vader offer a 401-K?

Were the storm troopers given an allowance so they could Simonize their helmets?

Did Robert Scarano design the Deathstar?

And most important of all in this day of OHSA:

Was the Deathstar a smoke-free workplace?

I do not know the answers for the first three questions, but I did learn the answer to the latter-most one. This very evening on Franklin Street, no less.

No.

Who knew Greenpoint was the destination of choice for furloughed storm troopers? Then again, since the Garden Spot has the dubious honor of being one of the most vice-ridden neighborhoods in Brooklyn, maybe makes them feel more at home? Smoke ’em if you got ’em boys! We won’t judge you.

Miss Heather

More Subway Poster Fun on the Crosstown Local

(Or: “G” stands for giving it to the man)

I do not leave Greenpoint much nowadays for the simple reason I do not need to; I live and work here. Last night I left the confines of the Garden Spot to behold the Shit Crawler in all its super-sized projected glory in SoHo. This journey required that I ride the G train.

As my husband and I waited on the Smith – 9th Street bound platform, I beheld this newest bit of Greenpoint subway poster graffiti.

I chattered and giggled to myself as I shutter-bugged the shit out of this poster. This is one of the most hilarious modifications to a subway poster I have seen in quite a while. So simple, yet so effective. The police officer who happened to be walking by as I took the above photograph appeared to agree: he was laughing his ass off.

On the way home I spied the above sullen morsel of revolt at the Nassau Avenue platform of the Queens-bound G. Earlier in the evening I had mentioned to my husband that I found the use of the word “commitments” in these advertisements amusing. Whenever this word is invoked the first thing I think of being committed.

To an insane asylum.

Miss Heather