Gargiulo's at Christmastime

I recently went down to Gargiulo's, which was damaged by Hurricane Sandy, to show some support and have a meal. The century-old restaurant was shuttered for a few weeks, after flood waters soaked the property, which lies just a block from the boardwalk in Coney Island. The lobby was deluged and the water reached as high as a foot above the elevated dining room. But the owners worked fast to open up, not wanting to lose out on holiday business.

The lobby bar is still under renovation, hidden behind a wall. This gives the foyer a more truncated look, taking away from the expansive feel you expect at Gargiulo's. But the dining room is in full working order, complete with lavish Christmas decorations. The service and food was excellent, as always.

Coney Island Gets All Boring

So I rode down to Coney Island the other day, got off the train, walked through the stylish subway terminal to the intersection of Surf and Stillwell, and I saw—this.

What the hell is this totally nondescript, anonymous, uninteresting, gray-and-glass building doing on the southeast corner of Coney Island's most significant intersection?

Oh, I see from the sign in the window: Thor Equities put it there! Thor, you'll remember, is the development corporation that has been systematically ripping out the heart and soul of Coney for the past few years, buying up land, tearing down great old buildings, kicking out Astroland and doing other wonderful, soul-killing things.

This particular corner used to be the home of the Surf Hotel. It was a crummy little two-story thing, and had been left to rot for years. But it was utterly in keeping with Coney's character. This new structure is—well, how should be put it?—not.

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Forgotten Coney Island Beauty

I was walking down Neptune Avenue recently when I passed this abandoned edifice of peculiar, Coney Island-esque grandiosity. What is that, I wondered. The oval, Moderne shape of the building, the decorative inlaid nickel in the shape of birds, snails and raindrops—it's just a wonderful, witty piece of neighborhood-specific architecture. Was is a bath house? An aquarium? A roller rink?

No, it was the Coney Island Fire Station Pumping Station. It was built in 1938, faced in limestone, and sits on a granite base. The Fire Department shut the station down in the 1970s. It was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1981. But it doesn't seem to have gotten much love since then. I learned from the Milli Fiori Favoriti site that it used to be even more beautiful. Four pair of stone winged horses once flanked the entrances. You can see a picture below. The ponies now live at the Brooklyn Museum.

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A Little Russian Bakery

There's not much around Mark Twain Middle School in Coney Island. A fire station across the street, some auto body shops. If you want something to eat, you have to walk a few blocks and then this is your only choice. I wasn't enthused upon entering, but inside I found a Russian deli of amazing variety and authenticity. They bake their own bread (I bought a high, narrow loaf of white; it was delicious), and have an enormous deli selection. They make the most of the small space; the shelves are chock full of goods and you could easily do your weekly shopping here (if you don't mind eating exclusively Russian fare). The clientele appears to be largely Russian; the signs are in Russian, with no translation.

The business is apparently quite an enterprise. They deliver bread to wholesalers and retailers, and ship to 40 states. The clerk said they had been there "a long time." But I think she just meant a long time in her way of looking at it.

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Lost City Asks "Who Goes to Gargiulo's?"

This week's Eater column takes me back to Coney Island:

Who Goes There? Gargiulo's

Italian-American diners and Italian-American restaurateurs must be the most loyal in the city. How else to explain Bamonte's, Frost, Ferdinando's Fococceria, Marco Polo, Mario's, Pietro's, Tommaso's, Rocco, John's of 12th Street, Lanza, Rao's and countless other steadfast eateries that, despite predictable cuisine and often interchangeable decor, peel away the decades without breaking a sweat? How else to explain Gargiulo's, which since 1907 has remained rooted to its bleak block a couple hundred yards from the boardwalk, even as the rest of Old Coney Island tumbles down around its ears?

I'd been planning to visit Gargiulo's for years, but was spurred to action by food critic Mimi Sheraton's recent castigation of the contemporary Brooklyn culinary scene. "When Lundy’s was Lundy’s, I’d be there," said Sheraton, a sometimes commenter on this column. "When Gargiulo’s was Gargiulo’s, I went. I certainly went to Gage and Tollner." Well, I can't go to Lundy's or Gage & Tollner anymore, but I can sure hit Gargiulo's, even if it isn't what it "was."

The exterior is anonymous; an awning on a faux-classic facade. The inside, however, is Ancient Rome by way of the Marriott Grand Ballroom. It's the Banquet Halls of Caracalla. The ceilings of the main dining room—just up a flight of steps from the bar and copious entryway—must be among the highest of any restaurant in New York. Arched mirrored windows line the walls; chandeliers drip from the ceiling. Two large doors lead to what is essentially an open (or at least very visible) kitchen. A huge cherub oversees the festivities. One senses that large parties celebrating birthdays and weddings are rustling somewhere in the building, behind this door or up that staircase. The place has been a wedding and function mecca since it was founded by the Gargiulo family and continues to be so under the Russo clan, who bought it in 1965.

The head waiter—tall, good-humored, Russian and excellent at his job—told me Gargiulo's has always been cavernous. It was built to match the outsized personality of vintage Coney Island. Old pictures bear this out, though red curtains and a huge octopus suspended from the ceiling once lent the room a more colorful, carny air. "We cut the octopus up for salads," smiled the waiter. "Just kidding."

The Russos are captured in oil in a gallery of portraits just to the left as your walk in. A flesh and blood Russo could be found at the bar, filling out a large sweater, and holding an Old Fashioned between thumb and index finger like it was an egg. Many patrons took breaks from their meals to saunter down the steps to the bar, shake the Russo man's hand and examine an "American Idol" contestant or two. It's the kind of place that encourages roaming.

A party of 30 called at the last moment and was accommodated immediately. A birthday party suddenly emerged from some unseen hall, shiny balloons bobbing up and down as they meandered through the room. Old friends talked over wine long after dinner was over. Kisses and hugs were exchanged between tables when it came time to go. Every few minutes, an aged family member emerged from the kitchen in soiled whites, leaned against the doorway and wearily surveyed the scene to make sure everyone was happy.

For the volume of food they produce, the kitchen works with a certain delicacy. My fettuccine verde Gargiulo, topped with a creamy tomato sauce rich with bits of chicken and prosciutto, was tasty and far from sloppily prepared. My crabmeat salad was fresh. The bread was good. And the house Chianti was not crap (a minor miracle in the world of red sauce joints). At a neighboring table, the waiter offered to remake a dish when the customer briefly considered whether it was too salty. I heard many comment happily about their meals.

These people came from "New Jersey, Long Island, Staten Island, all over," said the Russian. "Many regular customers." He then shook the red, plastic tombola that he brings to every table of ten or fewer at the end of a meal. It's a longstanding piece of Gargiulo's schtick. Pick a number between 1 and 90. If that die comes out, your meals on the house. No one had won that night yet. I chose 31; I got 60. "Sometimes you eat free, sometimes you don't," said the waiter. "But always, a good meal."

—Brooks of Sheffield

Ruby's Bar & Grill Is Gone for Good

Ruby's Bar & Grill, a raffish, Coney Island treasure to those who knew how to treasure Coney Island, has closed for good. The landlord did not renew the lease.

I was one of millions who have had a beer or two at the old bar at some point during the 76 years it was open. Those of you who are now reading this, and are just hearing of Ruby's, will never have the pleasure.

No neighborhood in New York has been so shabbily treated by the City over the past decade as Coney Island.

A Good Sign: Happy Little Hot Dog

He's got an apron, a tray, and a little box of take out, so he can eat some of himself when he gets home.

Part of the Nathan's sign in Coney Island.

Totonno's Reopening Delayed Again, Of Course

It was the Coney Island summer without Totonno's.

When we didn't hear anything from the pizzeria by Aug. 31, which suffered a fire in March, and has promised to reopen every month since then, we knew something was up.

Sure enough, Slice reports that owner-pizzaman Lawrence Ciminieri says it'll be late September or early October before the place opens its doors again.

Why the delay? After the fire, Ciminieri said, his family had two choices: rebuild from scratch or salvage what was there. The initial reports from the architect Ciminieri consulted with indicated that the building was sound enough to salvage, but once crews started renovation, city inspectors found more damage than expected. It turns out that the building needs to be shored up to support the weight of the oven and the coal used to fire it.

"It would have been easier to just knock the place down and start over," Ciminieri said, "but we're already in the middle of this [renovation] and just have to finish now."

Who Let That Clown In?

At a recent Brooklyn Cyclones game.

In Case You Didn't Notice

I've been saying this all along.

(Coney Island picture courtesy of Martiner1)

I Wish They Have Built It

Gothamist posted this item about the Coney Island Globe Tower that never was:

Today the Library of Congress posted a bunch of old New York Tribune covers in their Flickr pool, one displaying the ambitious tower, where the plans for it were announced in May 1906. Inside, investors were offered "a ground floor chance to share profits in the largest steel structure ever erected...the greatest amusement enterprise in the whole world...the best real estate venture." The Globe Tower would cost around $1,500,000 to erect, and the man behind it, Samuel Friede, was looking for the means to make it happen.

His vision included a 700-foot-tall sphere subdivided into eleven floors, and placed at a corner of the Steeplechase property on Surf Avenue. Inside would house everything from a garden, restaurants, a roller rink, bowling alley, a 4-ring circus, a music hall, the largest ballroom and theme park in the world, a hotel, an observatory, and obviously the United States Weather Observation Bureau and Wireless Telegraph Station. Below the globe one would find a combination parking garage, subway and railroad station, including a direct route out to sea incase a boat was your preferred mode of transportation.

This article explains the fate of Friede's dream, noting that in March of 1907, "George Tilyou, tired of the endless delays, threatened an injunction. A Brooklyn Supreme Court judge prevented it. None-the-less, by 1908 it became clear that the most impressive architectural project ever conceived was a fraud. Tilyou was left with the problem of removing thirty foundation piles on his property."

Tilyou have vision. Compare his ideas to those laid out these days by Joe Sitt and Mike Bloomberg.

Coney Island Tries to Get the City to Listen, Take Two

The disastrous new Coney Island zoning recently passed by City Council makes it possible for some money-mad cretin to building a 20-story tombstone on the corner where the iconic Nathan's Famous hot dog joint has stood for nearly 100 years. The building is not landmarked (of course), so concerned parties are now pushing to gain protection for the culinary and cultural institution. What do you think the chances are that this administration will listen?

Here's the Daily News' take. There are two bits of good news in there, in boldface:

It's already a landmark for hot-dog lovers around the world - and now they want to make it official.

Advocates are pushing the city to landmark the building at Surf and Stillwell Aves., where Nathan's Famous has been dishing out dogs since 1916, to prevent it from being demolished as Coney Island undergoes sweeping redevelopment.

Under a zoning plan passed by the City Council last week, a hotel tower of up to 20 stories could be built at the corner currently occupied by Nathan's. It's one of four sites along Surf Ave. where hotels will be allowed.

Coney Island USA founder Dick Zigun said landmark status is necessary to stop Nathan's from going the way of such mainstays as Astroland, which closed last year.

"To not have Nathan's would be insane," he said. "Even when you build new rides and businesses and hotels ... the appeal [Coney Island] is going to have is the history.

"You don't want the new Coney Island to be indistinguishable from a suburbanized, homogenized, standardized amusement park off the New Jersey Turnpike," Zigun said. "You want it to be special."

Landmarks Preservation Commission spokeswoman Lisi de Bourbon said officials are still weighing the historical and architectural significance of the building.

Two other historic Coney buildings, the Shore Theater and the Coney Island USA building - home to the original Childs Restaurant - have been deemed eligible for landmarking, de Bourbon said.

Landmark status has already saved other Coney icons like the Cyclone and the WonderWheel from the wrecking ball.

Nathan's Famous CEO Eric Gatoff said the company has no position on the landmark proposal, but insisted the hot-dog emporium isn't going anywhere. He noted Nathan's - which doesn't own the building - has 18 years left on its lease.

"We expect to be in that building forever," Gatoff said. "Our expectation is there will always be a Nathan's on the corner of Surf and Stillwell."

The Handwerker family, which founded the original Nathan's and still owns the building, could not be reached for comment.

More than 125 people have signed an online petition launched three days ago to push for the landmarking - and most frankfurter fans were all for it.

"It should be a landmark already," said Bill Funk, 69, an upper West Side accountant who has visited the stand once a week all summer for the past 50 years. "There deserves to be change here. There should be better development, but this should stay."

Cheese Fries. Ice Cream. Cold Beer. Pizza Slice.

Sounds like a meal to me. Not in that order, of course.

A Good Sign: Eldorado Arcade

In Coney Island.

Horseradish and Cyclones

One of the things I like most about going to Brooklyn Cyclones games in Coney Island—aside from being able to get Magic Hat beer, kosher hot dogs and knishes, Nathan's french fries, the views of the water, the Wonder Wheel, the Cyclone and the Parachute Drop, the "Hot Dog Races," the breeze wafting in from New York Harbor, and, jeez, just about everything—are the ads that line the outfield.

There are a few placards for national, corporate products like Pepsi and the execrable Applebee's. But mainly the ads are homely jobs for wonderful, local (or formerly local) concerns like Maimonides Medical Center, Carvel Ice Cream, the Brooklyn Window & Door Corporation, the NYC Union of Carpenters and Contractors and the good old Wonder Wheel.

But my favorite of all the ads is the one for Gold's Horseradish out in far right field. I don't know. Something about their line of tear-provoking products just says "New York." Anyway, you can bet you're not going to see a Gold's billboard at some stadium in Sarasota or Durham.

The Only Reason I've Ever Liked Developer Joe Sitt

That reason? Because he's the only person in the city powerfully positioned enough to screw up the Bloomberg administration's ruinous rethinking of Coney Island.

Despite widespread, and unrelenting criticism (including protests from documentary filmmaker Ric Burns and Pulitzer Prize-winning historians Edwin Burrows and Mike Wallace (“Gotham”)) of it's awful rezoning scheme for the treasured Brooklyn neighborhood (More towers! Less amusement!), the City has steamrolled forward in typically arrogant, Bush-style, the-public-be-damned style with its plan. Yesterday, the City Council's land-use committee approved the city's controversial rezoning, meaning it is likely on track for full Council approval on July 29 (because when lately has the Council stood up to Bloomberg?).

According to City Room, "City officials and Councilman Domenic M. Recchia Jr. also hinted that the city may expand the amount of land dedicated to amusements between Surf Avenue and the boardwalk, as many critics have sought. But that will only happen if the Bloomberg administration comes to terms with the developer Joe Sitt before the full council votes on the redevelopment plan on July 29."

That's a big "but." Sitt, long a thorn in the side of both the public and Bloomberg, say thanks, but no thanks, to the City’s offer to buy his property for $105 million. He wants more dough than that.

Sitt's bad for New York. But Bloomberg's worse. And, unbelievably, in this dog fight, I'm rooting for Sitt. No one, not even that prevaricating skunk, shouldn't be threatened with having his land taken away via Eminent Domain, as the Bloomberg goons have done. Perhaps if he stands his ground long enough (and it's hard to make a mega-developer budge when it comes to money), he's scuttle the City's Coney plan, or at least force them to revise it. I mean, who the hell proposed erecting a high-rise hotel in front of the historic Wonder Wheel and thinks it's a good idea? The kind of person that should be stopped, that's who.

(Nice picture, above, via Amusing the Zillion.)

Still No Totonno's

As of July 19. Is the Coney Island summer to pass without this sacred pizzeria reopening?

UPDATE: Slice has the new opening date as late August.

A Good Sign: Plaza Mexico

Plaza Mexico, a taco joint just off the boardwalk in Coney Island.

Some Stuff That's Interesting

The Coney Island Mermaid Parade goes on, despite the rain. [Gothamist]

Another example of the endemic abuse of eminent domain now common in Bloomberg's New York. [Queens Chronicle via Queens Crap]

A toast to the number 169 [Ampersand Seven]

A house in Admiral's Row goes kerflooey. The culprit: rain, and governmental neglect. [Curbed]

The Narrowest House in Town

I saw this amazing domicile along Stillwell Avenue on the way to Coney Island. I comes just before the road passes over Coney Island Creek. It's amazingly narrow. What you see on the front is basically what you get. It doesn't get appreciably wider as the house goes back. I guess people work with the plot they get.