Lost City: Wisconsin Edition: Cape Cod Hotel

The Door County resort area of Wisconsin has suffered a great deal of overdevelopment in recent years, with unsightly condo villages popping up everywhere. But much of the region's old charm remains, including many restaurants, shops, hotels and motels that date the mid-20th century, when Wisconsinites and Illinois residents first discovered the scenic joys of the peninsula county, which juts out into Lake Michigan, and was settled in the 19th century by Icelandic and Norwegian immigrants.

There are a lot of similarities between Door County and Cape Cod—the climate and abundance of shoreline and beaches not the least of them. That must have been on the minds of the founders of the Cape Cod Motel when they named their small Egg Harbor residence. The motel has a classic, 1950s layout—a long, one-story line of rooms with a central, check-in structure. There are nine rooms, priced under $100 a night. The currently owner renovated the place about five years ago. I don't know exactly how old the place is, but judging by the classic sign, I'd say it's at least 50 or 60 years old.

A Hint of Helen's Candy Shop

In the past, I've written about the Carroll Gardens Newsstand's former life as Helen's Candy Store. As Helen's, the tiny Smith Street storefront was a beloved local institution, known for its superlative egg creams. It was run by two sisters who lived upstairs, Helen Hanaway, who had a reddish-blonde beehive hairdo, and Georgia. Working the counter were the two women seen below. The one on the right is Josie. The woman on the left is Lilly, who was cross-eyed, and whom no one ever forgot once laying eyes on her.

Lately, the owners of the newsstand have been making some ill-advised "improvements." They've scraped the front clean of all its posters and stickers. And they've revamped the interior. So now it's cheap-looking in a junky new way, rather than cheap-looking in a charming, grimy way.

But, there's a silver lining. They haven't finished the ceiling. So in one corner, you can see what must have been the tin ceiling that Helen's Candy Shop once sported. If only I could convince to tear out all those acoustical tiles and refurbish the tin ceiling!

Marco Polo Loses Its Awning

The full-scale renovation of the Marco Polo Ristorante on Court Street in Carroll Gardens continues apace. The other day I happened to be there when the old awning was removed and hauled away by a truck. Will it be cleaned? Or replaced? Time will tell.

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.

Colony Music, Vestige of Bygone Times Square and Bygone Music World, to Close

Colony Music, one of the few remaining iconic Times Square independent businesses left, will close its doors on Oct. 1, it was reported. Business partner Richard Turk told Playbill.com the shuttering was due to "increased expenses, decreased sales," and the surfeit of online sellers of sheet music and recordings.

Colony has been in business since 1948, and was a vibrant reminder of a time when the Theatre District had not just theatre, but was also full of music venues featuring jazz and cabaret, and other businesses connected to the music industry. It's very location is a bit of music history: it occupies a corner of the fabled Brill Building at 49th Street and Broadway, where songwriters used to plug away at pianos, trying to hatch songs that might become the next hit record for the singing stars of the 1940s, '50s, '60s and '70s.

For years, Colony was recognized by passersby for its iconic neon sign of a mini-skirted girl on tip-toe, holding an outsized album aloft in ecstatic, vaguely erotic delight. The sign was removed a few years ago at the landlord's behest.

To a certain extent, Colony's fate has been sealed for some time. The store was born in a time when people went to actual physical stores to buy record albums and 45s and sheet music. That sort of music shopping has been dead for years. Still, it was beloved by music purists, and denizens of the theatre.

Lafayette French Pastry Closes

I'd noticed recently that Greenwich Village's Lafayette French Pastry looked closed, but I thought perhaps the owners were on summer vacation. I learned today from Eater that the longstanding baker had shuttered for good. Taking over the space will be the irrepressible New York culinary world loudmouth Michael Bao.

This was actually Lafayette's second location in the Village. It used to be on Bleecker Street near Seventh Avenue. It moved about 15 years ago, replaced by a Burritoville which has since vanished. In that guise, it epitomized, for me, the Greenwich Village small business, full of effortless local character. Lafayette was around 85 years old, run by three generations of the same family, a real relic of the old Village. According to their Facebook page, the owners got a letter of eviction in June.

Lost City: Milwaukee Edition: Sullivan's Cigar Store

The wonderful-looking Sullivan's Cigar Store is on S. Packard Avenue in Cudahy, Wisconsin, a small city just south of Milwaukee, so close it might as well be a suburb. I came upon it recently after getting lost following a detour in Milwaukee, and all but hit the brakes, so stunned was I by the beauty of the old storefront.

Initially, I could find out little about Sullivan's and its fantastic sign, except that it was founded in 1931. As the neon tells us, the place sells smoker's supplies and also once cleaned and blocked hats. (Because men who smoke cigars also like to wear hats—a fact I'm sure was quite true back in the day.) There are old signs for Marlboro and Old Gold on the front of the store. It was not open the day I passed by, though it was a Wednesday in the middle of the day.

A chance search through the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinal website, however, turned up this information: on March 10, 2011, one Mary Salvatore died at the age of 97. According to her obituary, "Mary, along with her husband [Joseph], owned and operated Sullivans Cigar Store on Packard Avenue in Cudahy for over 75 years." That would likely make Joseph and Mary Salvatore the founders of the store and perhaps its sole operators. Maybe they called it Sullivan's, thinking it a more palatable name to Wisconsin natives of the 1930s than the more foreign-sounding Salvatore's. Or maybe they bought it from a guy named Sullivan, who only ran it for a few years before selling out.

Mary and Joseph had no children. The store has possibly been dormant ever since Mary's death.