BY MANUEL MARTIN | Sixty years ago I was a 13-year-old growing up in Chelsea! Sixty, yikes!
Herman is pouring me a cup of coffee at the Chelsea Square Restaurant (on W. 23rd St. and Ninth Ave.), as I look out the window and see a new Chelsea.
Life was simpler and more innocent in the 1950s. The new technology, TV, was still in its nascent stage — which was a huge leap from the “talking furniture” known as radios. Teenagers, who were developing a subculture that adults looked upon with suspicion and dread, had their own wardrobe, music, and language. For males, jeans or black chinos with a black leather jacket were de rigueur. White Converse sneakers (“limousines for the feet”) or red Keds were worn with white socks. The popular hairstyle was the “DA” or “duck’s ass,” combed straight back on the sides with the all-important, self-defining “bop” in front. The bop was formed by taking the middle three fingers of one’s hand and drawing out a lock of hair so it hung proudly and prominently on the forehead. It was a look that implied departure from the orderliness that adults valued so much and wanted to inculcate in us. Ask someone what a bop was; if they don’t know, they didn’t grow up in NYC. Oh, one more thing — the shirt and jacket collar was worn up for “coolness!”
Teens were defining themselves on their own terms and their new music was called “rock and roll.” It defined their values and experiences. That became the teen brand that meant springing to action, as in, “Let’s rock and roll!” The first rock and roll song that sold a million records was Bill Haley and His Comets’ “Rock Around The Clock” in 1954.
Many of Chelsea’s apartments did not have living rooms. A large kitchen served as the multi-purpose room with the needed bedrooms, which were modest in size. Jimmy the “Ice Man” would carry a large block of ice on his shoulder up flights of stairs and deliver it to each resident’s icebox. Each floor had a dumbwaiter, which sounded an alarm each evening for people to discard garbage bags. Large doors were opened on each floor and the bags were tossed onto the landing. Then it went to the floor below.
Every Saturday morning there was violin music played in the back alley of the building. Residents would open windows from as high as five stories and drop wrapped coins to the violinist. There was a Morse code of sorts that women used on the heating pipe. Two bangs invited the upstairs neighbor for coffee. One bang meant “I’ll be there!” The rooftops were known as “Tar Beach,” where residents sunned themselves on blankets during the summertime.
There were popular landmark sites right on 23rd St., from where I sit now all the way to Fifth Ave. There were a number of popular places that Chelseaites frequented on 23rd St. between Seventh and Eighth Aves. Everyone’s favorites on that single block are long gone, but will be re-visited with this imaginary excursion back to the mid-1950s.
On the corner of 23rd St. and Eighth Ave. proudly stood the RKO movie theatre. The RKO had been a grand opera house in its day, becoming a popular movie theatre in 1938. It had a huge, impressive carpeted lobby with a broad winding staircase to the balcony. Every Saturday matinee began at 3 p.m. and showed two full-length movies, three cartoons and the Movietone News, which was a review of main world events. There was always a long line of kids along Eighth Ave. from 23rd to 24th Sts. waiting to pay admission. The cost was 30 cents for minors and 65 for adults. I was tall for my age so the lady selling tickets never believed me. I couldn’t wait to be 13 years old! Kids sat in the right-hand section of the theater as a stern older “matron” dressed in white patrolled the aisle with a flashlight in hand. Smokers sat in the last four rows of the immense center section. Buttered popcorn was 15 cents, and a candy bar was six cents. Moviegoers could spend the entire afternoon at the movies — and some did.
The RKO closed and was demolished in June 1960.
Directly across the street from the RKO on Eighth Ave. was Lamston’s “five and dime.” Lamston’s was huge and could be entered from Eighth Ave. or the 23rd St. side. It was a budget store that was like a large upscale Dollar Store of today, but had a very long soda fountain on the Eighth Ave. side. A milkshake was 20 cents, a sundae 25, and a banana split was 30. The most popular beverage was the reigning egg cream! It cost seven cents and had no egg or cream in it. Lamston’s sold basic supplies for the home at low prices. There was a large bowling alley directly above it.
If you exited Lamston’s on the 23rd St. side and went east near the Seventh Ave. corner, there was the McBurney YMCA. The building is still there and one part is a large multi-floored gym and above it are million dollar condos. “The Y” as it was called, moved to 23rd St. in 1904 from a prior location in Manhattan It was named in honor of Robert Ross McBurney, head of the city-wide McBurney YMCA in the late 19th century. The Y was a great facility for people of all ages interested mainly in fitness and recreational activities. It had a basketball court, weight-lifting room and a popular “youth department” for pre-teens and teens, with an after-school program (which also ran Saturdays). It was like a second home for kids.
At about the age of 11, I recall sitting with a few other kids in the gym watching the New York Knicks’ seven-foot center Ray Felix dunk two basketballs at the same time! I spent my early years there, and it was time well spent. The McBurney Y inspired the Village People to sing their popular song “YMCA.” It is now located on 14th St.
Across 23rd St. from the YMCA was the popular Horn & Hardart Automat. In its heyday there were 21 automats throughout NYC, which served food and drinks through vending machines. Each automat was huge! As you walked in, before you was a large booth with someone who gave nickels in exchange for whatever amount of money the moneychanger was given, and it was done instantly. The walls of the automat had hundreds of windows with a sign above them labeling the kind of food in that section. Foods were always fresh and just prepared. Three nickels bought a variety of delicious offerings. There were dozens of tables where complete strangers sat together and engaged in conversation at times. I often opened the glass windows with baked macaroni or strawberry shortcake, each costing three nickels. Moments after food was removed, it was replaced again. One person observed that automats served the first “fast food” when food was fast, and food was food. The last automat was on 42nd St. and shut it doors in 1991.
There were many Chelsea landmarks — too many to include in a retrospective, but these were standouts, and all on 23rd St. between Seventh and Eighth Aves. To be sure, some readers will recall them fondly, along with their own special memories of these long-gone, but not forgotten, places.
