Jul 312010
 

Macy's as it was: Climb down the El stairs (left) and shop. Looking east on 14th Street from Sixth Avenue

Macy’s wasn’t always on Herald Square. Starting in 1858, it was downtown, on 14th Street. It began as a dry goods store on Sixth Avenue between 13th and 14th Streets, way north of the city’s normal dry goods district down in present-day SoHo.

Once the herald of the grand entrance to a mercantile universe, now abandoned for Herald Square.

Here, many modern shopping concepts were born. R.H. Macy, the owner, set prices a penny or two below the even dollar amount, which was unusual for the time. Now, it’s common practice to trick the consumer mind into believing they’re getting a better price than they really are. Macy began the tradition of holiday-themed windows for passersby. The store also employed cash sales and money-back guarantees, which were also unusual consumer-oriented devices in the account-based 19th-century world.

Macy was smart, but he was also lucky. The construction of the Sixth Avenue elevated train opened in 1878, 20 years into his venture, and the increased foot traffic made business boom. Macy’s painted murals, visible from the El station by passing rides, put the store into the common mind.

The mural ads of Macy's once played to the passengers on the Sixth Avenue el, which ended service in December of 1938 and became bullets.

He repeatedly expanded his site, taking over neighboring buildings into a cobbled-together castle of commerce. He even had an on-site factory where women sewed made-to-order garments.

By 1902, Macy’s had outgrown its jigsaw home, and after 44 years there, it moved to a custom-built palace. It took up an entire city block between 34th Street between Sixth and Seventh avenues — with an exception. The building at the southeast corner of the block refused to sell, so Macy’s simply rose around it, dwarfing the little holdout. It became the largest department store in the world. It still is.

But on 14th Street, vestiges of the old R. H. Macy’s remain. A few doors east of Sixth Avenue (now called Avenue of the Americas, if only formally), look at the panel under the arched tri-panel window. It looks empty. But stare longer, and like a Magic Eye painting, you can begin to see the faint outline of the old Macy’s name, removed 108 years ago:

Macy's ghost sign

Find the staple-like notch in the middle of the sign. Just above and to the left, you can see the arc of the 'C'. To the right and just past the grime, you can make out part of the 'S'. Then more appears: the fork of the 'Y' in the dirt, and the the left arm of a star that once punctuated the name. *MACY'S*.

Still can't see it? Maybe this will help.

There are faint details everywhere if you take the time to look. But who takes the time to look?

Macy’s prime corner on 14th and 6th still has a role in pandering to the hoi polloi. Now it’s an Urban Outfitters that occupies a building that replaced a part of the former rambling mercantile mansion.

This Macy's red star: dubious origin, silent end

Around back, 50 or 60 feet east of Sixth Avenue on 13th Street, look a few stories up. Underneath those wings and torches, inside the shields draped in sculpted stone bunting. There, you can see faded red stars, the logo of Macy’s for nearly a century and a half.

These are a few straggling decorations from the non-stop daily parade of purchasing that made Macy’s the biggest shopping name in the world.

No one knows exactly what the red star signifies. R.H. Macy himself insisted upon it. All that’s known is that Macy worked as a sailor in his youth, and after a trip to the Far East and Singapore, he came back with a red star tattoo. Back then, it wasn’t a symbol for communism, but for hope, and many seafarers got them in far-flung, rat-infested wharves to signify their wishes to return home without perishing.

Macy’s website tersely acknowledges the star’s origin but skirts its possible meanings as well as the conditions in which he might have received the marking — mostly because no one knows. “He adopted a red star as his symbol of success, dating back to his days as a sailor,” goes the party line.

A veritable constellation of red stars has flown over your head all along. Didn't you know?

So, yes, the logo of Macy’s is based on a sailor’s tattoo, and the mark of the sort of lost, unsavory life a sailor might have led.

The red star also represented Macy’s wish to make it back home. Later, it transferred from his flesh to his empire, and now, the name Macy’s itself has found its way into every home.

And it’s still visible on the old Macy’s building on 13th Street near Sixth Avenue.

Jul 282010
 

Today was a day lived at light speed. Press event, work, lunch with a colleague, more work, coffee with a friend from Tourism Australia, more writing. The frenetic pace carried right into Fox News’ newsroom. The stage manager grabs me late, and then I was placed in this seat (a new one for me) at the very last possible moment before my “hit.” Literally seconds. Earpiece in. As soon as it’s in my head, or so I think, Philly tells me that I’m on in 10 seconds.

Trouble was, the top of my head was still out of frame. For all the world was about to know, I still had hair. I relay this urgent information to the guy on the floor with none of the sense of urgency that the situation actually called for. Frame hastily jerked up, and go!

I think we were all having an off day. But it still came off — much like my IFB earpiece — even if the crush made me deliver something that was somewhat more hyperbolic than the original post I wrote about this topic for WalletPop.




As soon as I was out of the chair, I was back on the subway (which runs alongside the studio, pretty much) and in the Lower East side for the latest Restless Legs reading series. There, I caught up with a bunch of my favorite travel peeps, including the people behind Nomadic Matt (whom I interviewed yesterday on camera for WalletPop — stay tune for that), Legal Nomads, Budget Travel, EuroCheapo, Gadling, and The Lost Girls.

A busy day is a good day.

Jul 272010
 

Step 1: Raise rent on beloved neighborhood institution (such as Joe Jr.’s Diner)

Step 2: Force closure of said tenant.

Step 3: Suffer without rental income as a result of putting your greed ahead of your community.

Step 4: Watch neighborhood decline.

… The only step I love is number three.

Joe Jr.'s diner location, Sixth Avenue and 12th Street, July 2010

Here’s the same place in April of 2004.

Joe Jr.'s diner, April 2004

Jul 202010
 

I was invited on the two-day inaugural preview on Norwegian’s colossal new cruise ship, the Epic. While most of the other journalists were upstairs getting soused on the open bar (which I did — later), I was downstairs investigating the new “Studio” cabins. These new solo quarters will enable people who wish to vacation alone, or at least have a stateroom to themselves, to avoid paying that dreaded “single supplement” which keeps so many people from taking the trips they’d like to take.

I thought it’d be much more fun to make a video about them than to just write something. So my friend Josh Koll shot me. We had it in the can in 10 minutes, but as far as I know, I’m the only journalist who made a video of these rooms. As if that’ll win me any prizes.

I also cut it, which may explain why it’s a little choppy. I don’t expect you to share in my sense of accomplishment, but Final Cut Pro can be a beast.

Jul 182010
 

Here are two videos I made that are seemingly unrelated, but which have a common thread: bartering.

The first is a look at George Washington’s actual bookkeeping ledger, which shows that much of his business was conducted through swap. Like: He sold fish to get ingredients for whiskey! The second is about a hospital in Brooklyn that allows broke artists to trade their talents for health care (check out the original Keith Haring mural in the video!).

We shot the hospital one after the ledger one, but I realized that my trip to Mount Vernon had yielded a fascinating tidbit that was a perfect closer to it. So Washington’s balance sheet makes a double appearance. I’m a history nerd, so any chance to show off a wicked cool old document titillates me.

A few months ago, Nevada Republican Sue Lowder earned mockery for suggesting Americans might be able to barter for their health care. Yes, that’s no longer a workable system in our non-agrarian economy, but here’s proof that it was once the norm — and it can still work. So there.

trade their talents for health care.

Jul 172010
 

Want to get lost in the past for an afternoon? You want to go to this link: http://gis.nyc.gov/doitt/nycitymap/

It’s just like Google Earth: a flyover of New York City, showing all the rooftops, streets, rail lines and street life.

Except it was shot in 1924. Yes, 1924!

This incredible time machine is on New York City’s official civic site. Once you call it up, use the camera icon to change the year, and then use the slider to go back from today’s view to 1924. The magnifying glass gets you closer to the area you choose, and the arrow keys move you around.

Then jump forward a quarter century to 1951. Then compare to recent images.

It was only six years since World War One, when Germans managed to actually infiltrate New York Harbor and blow up the Black Tom munitions depot, and aerial images like these were almost certainly a crucial part of the future American defense strategy.

Penn Station, 1924

Pennsylvania Station, back from the dead

The changes from 1924 are extreme.

  • No Empire State Building.
  • Elevated railways on Ninth, Sixth, and Third Avenues.
  • Sixth Avenue halts at Minetta Lane — within a year, it would begin to be sliced through to Canal Street to ease traffic to the Holland Tunnel and facilitate subway construction. By counting houses, I can find an apartment building I lived in in grad school on King Street and Sixth Avenue. It was sliced in half by The Cut, and Hancock Street and Congress Street were erased forever. My old apartment was shaped like a trapezoid because of it,and overlooked Sixth Avenue, but in this photo, it’s an intact, mid-block building.
  • Wharves along the Hudson where Battery Park City was later erected on landfill.
  • Sara Roosevelt Park between Chrystie and Forsyth Streets hadn’t yet been bulldozed: The Lower East Side was still relentlessly crammed with buildings.
  • Look how few trees are in the parks!

    Times Square, 1924

    Times Square without shadows -- but near the El (and there's another just west, on Ninth)

  • London Terrace on 23rd Street is still a row of townhouses with front yards.
  • Chelsea (north of 23rd Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenuea) is still a real neighborhood comprised of tenements. So is Stuyvesant Town and much of the Lowest East Side and the Bronx. You can really witness the destruction caused by Robert Moses as it develops over the decades.
  • Pennsylvania Station is still there. So is the old Metropolitan Opera House and the original Madison Square Garden at Madison and 26th Street. Move the slider to 1951, and you can see the second Madison Square Garden at Eighth and 50th Street.
  • Central Park’s Great Lawn doesn’t exist. It’s a reservoir.
Greenwich Village, 1924

The Sixth Avenue El doglegs at W. 3rd Street, the obliteration of Houston Street is decades away, and my old apartment (the top left corner of the "12A" points to it; it's on the south side of King Street just west of where the image darkens) remains in its pre-amputated state.

Seriously, I have been plumbing this link for months and I am still crazy excited about it. It’s the coolest link in my universe this year. I just had to share it with you.

Jul 142010
 

Here’s a new video I did (and the link to the original). I’m not actually in it because I felt that it should be about them, not me. But it was me who was asking the questions, and it was me who approached Disney to do this topic.

There are actually a bunch of people working at World Showcase in Epcot who have been there since the beginning, or who are fixtures. There’s Miyuki the Japanese candy lady, there’s Jutta the German egg painting lady, there’s Carol the Hat Lady in the United Kingdom, and there’s Andrew the wood carver in the Outpost.

And then there are these brothers, in Mexico:

Jul 132010
 

I took a few days out of a five-day vacation to create this video because I thought it would be so cool to have an internationally shot segment on WalletPop. I am especially proud of a few of the shots in here, such as the shot of the traghetto gondolier shot from below. On the Grand Canal in a rocky gondola.

I really need to learn how to put work demands on a shelf when I’ve got time off. Then again, when I create stuff like this, I’m 1) doing something that pretty much no other website is doing 2) creating a cool video scrapbook of the places I go and the people I meet and 3) having fun anyway. And I’m learning.

The post that this video lives in comes with a list of 10 ways to save in Venice.

Jul 112010
 

This weekend, I was having drinks with an old friend, someone I’ve known for 17 years, when all of a sudden he asked what I did. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised; dear friends know each other deeply and don’t always need to sweep up every morsel of information of their progressing careers.

Nonetheless, I realized that I need to do a much better job of posting my work so that people will know about it. Starting today.

I’m going to get some of my videos for WalletPop.com and Aol.com up onto the blog. Each one was originally published with a link to a story that, often, gave more context or detail or behind-the-scenes information than we could fit in the actual video, so I’ll also provide a link to that story. You can watch the video alone right here or, preferably, click through to WalletPop.com and read the story that went along with it.

The first two were supposed to be one, but my colleague/producer/cameraman Ken Shadford got so much material that we ended up cutting them into two segments, each covering different aspects of coin production. The first is about how coins are now designed digitally and carved into molds using computers, and the second shows the actual production line on the day the Mint was making the new Yosemite state quarter.

The Mint was a fascinating place to shoot, not just because of what we captured about production there — we all carry its products around in our pockets, every day — but also because of what we couldn’t shoot. Wide shots, pans, and shots of windows were not permitted lest we give outsiders a sense of how the building is laid out. I confess I was all turned around myself and relied on our guide to thread me through the caverns and warrens of clattering equipment.

Some days I get to shoot things that are so over-the-top cool that the whole experience feels rather dreamlike. I am so focused on asking questions and guiding the narrative and heeding Ken that I often forget how to just bask in the great fortune of my job. Maybe this blog entry will count toward the appreciation, just a little.

I also loved the fact that you’re not allowed to bring loose change into the Mint. Every penny is left in an envelope at the security desk, and the metal detectors (both coming and going) are amped up so high that even the foil in a gum wrapper will set them off.

The contents of my pocket kept beeping until we realized that my tube of ChapStick was triggering the alarm. “Huh,” said the guard, who like the rest of the staff was exceptionally friendly, “I had no idea ChapStick had metal in it, but it must, because it’s going off.” He looked at it closely, rolling it between his fingers with a quizzical expression, and then handed it back. “You have a great day,” he said.