A Good Sign: Travel

A reader sent in this lovely photo of an old sign that sits above a children's clothing store called Thank Heaven on Austin Street in Forest Hills. It used to be for a travel agency called Plan Travel. I like the font very much. Very tiki. Makes me think of tropical locales. 

Lost City Asks "Who Goes to Donovan's Pub"?

It's getting harder to cover the restaurants that belong in this column before they close. Lately, I've had to move some places up in the schedule after hearing that their death was imminent. Donovan's Pub in Woodside is one joint I thought I didn't have to hurry to. I expected it would be there forever. Alas, the owner, Joe Donovan, has put it up for sale. I've been there dozens of times. I went once more for this write-up. I hope it's not my last time.

Who Goes There? Donovan's Pub

Donovan's is, as far as I'm concerned, the heart of Woodside. In a neighborhood that once had hundreds of Irish pubs, and still holds on to a decent amount, it's the clear standout. Low-slung and sporting a faux-Tudor exterior, it sprawls over the corner of 58th Street and Roosevelt Avenue, just across from St. Sebastian's Church, presiding benevolently over the triangle known as Carl L. Sohncke Park. Of the two, I'd say the bar rates above the church in neighborhood influence. It has been there longer, after all.

A saloon has been on this corner at least since Prohibition was repealed, and probably before. It's been Donovan's since 1966, when Joe Donovan Sr. and his namesake son, Joe Jr., bought the business and turned it into a bustling success, serving nothing but beer, burgers, steaks and a bottomless tap of hospitality. Joe Jr. is still the owner, though he's rarely seen on the premises. The Donovan you will see at Donovan's is Jack, the general manager. Like Joe, Jack used to be a cop. He walked the mean streets of 1970s Harlem. You wouldn't peg him for a policeman. With his trim build, manicured silver hair and wire glasses, he looks more like an ex-stockbroker or news anchor.

Jack has no say over Joe's recent decision to put the iconic pub up for sale. Business hasn't been what it used to be, goes the lament. The Irish who once made up most of Woodside's population have moved away, and Joe's not getting any younger. Since word got out, however, trade has been up, with loyal regulars and newbies filing in for a well-poured Guinness and the joint's celebrated burger. Several years ago, Time Out New York named it the best burger in NYC. Since then, it's rarely been left off any list of top burgers in the city. It is, indeed, a good sandwich, and a bountiful one. Its virtue—and its drawback—is that the patty is not messed with. They just broil it. Don't touch it, don't flip it, don't season it. Just cook it. The result is satisfying, but I recommend a shake or salt and pepper before you launch in.

It's a good bet that the woman serving that burger will be blonde, have a thick Irish accent and will have worked at Donovan's for anywhere from ten to 30 years. A great number of New York eating institutions have career male waiters of the old school. Donovan's is one of the few I know of that have career female waitstaff.

The best room in the capacious tavern is the main dining hall, which is found at the end of the bar and down a few steps. It's the oldest of the several rooms, and has the character to show it. There's plenty of dark wood timbers, cozy booths, a high ceiling and a fireplace. Sitting by the fire on a chill winter evening is a lovely experience. Whether Donovan's will make it to this coming winter, and see that hearth lit again, is anyone's guess.

Wooden Phone Booth Sighting: Station Cafe

I've been inside Woodside's old Station Cafe dive bar many times over the years. I don't know how I missed that they had an old wooden phone booth tucked in the back. The phone has been removed, as is the case with such booths all over town since Verizon started bringing the hammer down, charge-wise, on keeping phone booth phones. But they haven't removed the booth, thank God, or filled it with junk. Sorry about the quality of the photo. I only had my cell phone with me that night. And the Station Cafe was, as always, dark as night.

A Good Sign: Wolf Jewelers

Wolf Jewelers is on Myrtle Avenue in Glendale, Queens. I have read an account that it was founded in 1982. With that sign? With that awning? No way. I'd say 1950s, though I have no evidence to back that up.

Jiffy Cleaners Defaces Itself

It's been a bad summer for New York signage. Jiffy Cleaners in Ridgewood, Queens, is the latest old business to trade in a unique, charming piece of original signage (above) for a new, normal, boring and utterly anonymous plastic awning (below). How is it that business owners don't realize the distinction afforded them by great old signs? Not everyone has one, you know. Do they really think a new, but ordinary, awning (which will look dirty and old in six months time) will bring them more business? Are there studies that prove this?

Jiffy's been around for nearly 50 years, FYI.

Two Astoria Bars

I like the names of these Astoria bars. Sometimes just a slightly unusual handle can set an otherwise run-of-the-mill tavern off from its competition. Irish names for pubs are as common as water. But usually it's one name. The partnership of McCaffrey & Burke is something different. Sounds like a law firm, or a Vaudeville act. Lavelle's Admirals Club is even more distinctive. One, because of the name Lavelle. (Is that a first or last name?) Two, because of the Admirals thing. Is/was this a Navy hangout? A pilot bar? A home for fans of the Milwaukee Admirals?

Astoria's Crater Candy Store Stripped of History

A couple years ago, I discovered that hiding under the mundane facade of Crater Candy Store at the corner of 30th Avenue and 31st Street in Astoria were the remnants of a genuinely old shop. Under the dull plastic blue awning was the original lovely signage of the place. It's sad to see such old signs hidden from plain sight. But it's better than having them removed completely.

Two short years later, they have been removed completely. I noticed that Crater was surrounded by scaffolding and feared the worse. Sure enough, the blue awning was gone, and the old signs underneath it with it. Nothing but brick. Another sweet remnant of the past carelessly tossed in the garbage.

Eagle Theatre Marquee Torn Down

I walked by the old Eagle Theatre in Jackson Heights, Queens, not two weeks ago. I looked forlornly upon the old building with its beautiful marquee, and reflected on how long it had been since it ceased business as the city's only Indian-language movie house. It closed in May 2009 and never reopened. The only comfort I could draw form the sight was that the marquee was still there, so there was a chance it would live as a cinema again.

Today, a reader sent me this sorrowful picture of the marquee being destroyed. A huge piece of Jackson Height's cultural heritage is gone.

I hear, however, that it will be replace by a South Asian market and food court. Which does not sound bad. And seems right for the area.

A Good Sign: Pino & Santo Hair Styles

In Ridgewood, on Fresh Pond Road. Like the prices, too.

The Green Mystery of Onderdonk Avenue, Slightly Less Mysterious, And Perhaps More Sudsy

Two years ago, I blogged about this intriguing Ridgewood building at the corner of Onderdonk and Stockholm. I noted the odd color, the odd structure, and the presence, up top, of a number of Jewish stars and four-leaf clovers. I speculated that it was a religious building in the past, but find no evidence of such a past. At the time, there was garment work going on inside.

Recently, a reader wrote in, saying: "Green Mystery; Renovated our home (200 feet away). Found in ceiling on 2nd floor a green bottle with the Star of David. Could the building have been a brewery? Still have the bottle but can't make out all the initals; small b, large N over an A followed by Co."

Interesting. Anybody out there have a clue. I still can't find out anything about this building.

UPDATE: Commenter "Mingusal" sheds some light on the mystery below by reminded us of the six-pointed star's other symbolic past. Do we have a former German beer hall here?