Castorini and Cammareri

[19 Cranberry Street, Brooklyn Heights, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

That’s the Castorini family’s house in Moonstruck (dir. Norman Jewison, 1987). It’s a wow of a house, with considerable history in the world of non-fiction.

And here’s the Cammareri Bakery, which became the corner bakery in Moonstruck. It didn’t even have to change its name. “Cammereri’s Bake Shop,” Chrissy (Nada Despotovich) says when she answers the phone.

[502 Henry Street, Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

In 1940 Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Cammareri lived at 502. I’d like to think that’s Mr. Cammareri out in front.

[Click for a larger view.]

[Click for a larger telephone directory.]

And look: another bakery, in Boro Park. Any relation? That’s a rabbit hole down which I will not go. But you can see Cammareri’s Bakery (as its sign says) in the Municipal Archives.

A 1943 Brooklyn Daily Eagle article about the 11th Avenue bakery mentions Angelina and Grace Cammerini, “handsome Italian girls,” originally from Palermo. A plaque in the bakery marked their brother Andrew’s second year in military service.

In 1998, the Henry Street bakery, by then known as the Cammereri Brothers Bakery, closed after nearly eighty years. No. 502 today houses MozzLab, a cheesemaker and food purveyor. No. 5910 is now a residential behemoth.

A wonderful bit of TV from when the bakery was flourishing: WABC-TV’s Chauncey Howell went to Carroll Gardens and interviewed residents about Moonstruck. Priceless stuff.

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April 1: A reader sent links to the Daily News articles with the bakery: one and two. “Cher, she goes crazy when she eats the lard bread.” Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard)

A Bronx candy store

[983 Mace Avenue, The Bronx, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

A reader who likes looking in the archives spotted this Bronx candy store. The same reader found a Board of Education photograph of the store’s interior, identified as “PS 89, Bronx: surroundings.” It would seem that the BOE wanted photographs of locations near the school. This candy store was right across the street from P.S. 89. Here is retail density at its finest — not to mention a sweet setup for schoolkids. Do click for a larger view. You won’t regret it.

[983 Mace Avenue interior. Photograph by A. J. Hickey, March 31, 1939. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. I hope the photographer bought something.]

An sidenote: the meaning of “light lunch” was at issue in a 1924 New York court case. At issue: whether a candy-store chain was doing the business of a restaurant in offering “light lunch”:


The court’s answer: yes, they were doing the business of a restaurant, and no, candy stores can’t do that. (Don’t tell no. 983.)

No. 983 is now a three-family behemoth. P.S. 89 still stands.

Thanks to the reader who found this store, outside and in-, and the court case.

Related reading
More OCA posts with photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives : All-Nite Service density : Harvey’s Hardware density : May Drug Co. density : Whelan’s Drug Store : Woolworth’s density

T SIDE and WEST SID

[591-593, 610-12 Something, Manhattan, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click either image for a much larger view.]

I chose these photographs for the signage and for the fellow who appears to be iceskating his way into the frame. The 1940s.nyc website shows both locations on West Street, with nothing nearby that would make them identifiable. The Municipal Archives have nothing for these street numbers. The 1940 Manhattan telephone directory has nothing. Several sources in Google Books from the later 1940s give 801 Greenwich Street as an address for West Side Iron Works — perhaps that was a later address. Without placards showing block and lot numbers for these locations, I give up. As did, it would seem, the keepers of the signage.

Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard)

[The Pinboard link does a search — no account needed.]

The Harlem Branch Y

From Langston Hughes’s “Theme for English B,” from the book-length sequence Montage of a Dream Deferred (1951). The writer (not “speaker”) has been given an assignment: write a page, “And let that page come out of you — / Then, it will be true.” He wonders if it’s that simple:


Here’s the poem. Imagine being an instructor and getting that page in response to an assignment.

The college is the City College of New York at 160 Convent Avenue. The park is St. Nicholas Park. Eighth Avenue is now Frederick Douglass Boulevard; Seventh, now Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Boulevard. And here is the Y:

[Harlem Branch YMCA, 180 West 135th Street, New York, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

The Y still stands. When I taught this poem, I liked to use Google Maps to follow the poem’s path (though one can’t get across the park by map). And I liked to play samples to give a sense of the writer’s eclectic musical interests: “Bessie, bop, or Bach,” his own three Bs. I didn’t know about the tax photos in the NYC Municipal Archives then.

Here’s some Harlem Branch Y history, with Hughes, Ralph Ellison, Jackie Robinson, Cicely Tyson, and Wesley A. Williams.

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It occurred to me only today that Hughes‘s poem fits perfectly on one typed page.

Related reading
More OCA posts with photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives

Yow-Zah’s

[2192 Flatbush Avenue, Brooklyn, New York, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

Snow was on the ground and a beer advertisement on the side of the building when the tax people took this photograph.

The full text:

Yow-Zah’s
Model Airplane Shop
And Other Hobbies
Gas Motors, Parts & Gas Kits
Boats, Accessories, Balsa Wood
And Supplies.

It looks to me as if “And Other Hobbies” and “And Supplies” were afterthoughts. Or they were forethoughts painted over, or sort of painted over. The words now compete with the NYC.gov/records watermark that runs across the photograph.

The date of the building’s construction, according to the Municipal Archives: 1931. A 1931 classified advertisement lists a cigar and stationery store for sale at this address. When this photograph was taken, Yow-Zah’s may have already been defunct (notice the disarray of the windows). By May 1941 the address housed the Paragon Chimney and Furnace Cleaning Company. By 1952, it was Harry’s Hand Laundry (“Shirts 18¢, Sheets 14¢, Pillow cases 6¢.”) Today the address is home to Kaché Restaurant and Lounge, serving Carribean-American cuisine.

Green’s Dictionary of Slang dates yowza! or yowzah! to 1933: “a general excl., either of approval or of vaguely non-committal agreement.” Yow-Zah’s Hobby Shop is listed in the Brooklyn Telephone Directory, Winter 1939–40: ESplanade 7–9003. And yes, it’s the only Yow-Zah’s in the book.

Thanks, Brian, for finding this photograph.

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February 4: An eagle-eyed reader reports that the advertisement on the side of the building is for Stegmaier’s beer.

Related posts
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives

[I searched for the 2192 address in the Brooklyn Public Library’s Brooklyn Newstand, a great resource for time-traveling Brooklynites.]

The Oteris and Marty

Previously on Orange Crate Art:

We visited no. 2376, once the home of Arthur Avenue Noodle & Macaroni Manufacturing. Today we’ll look at the two establishments that once flanked AAN&MM. To the south, the Baccalà Store.


[2374 Arthur Avenue, The Bronx, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

Baccalà, salted cod, is a traditional Italian food. No, I’ve never had it.

And just north of AAN&MM, the Oteri Bros. Prime Meat Market.

[2378 Arthur Avenue, The Bronx, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

These photographs would be worth posting for their own sake — they’re beautiful streetscapes. But there’s a bonus.

Danielle Oteri tells some of the Oteri history here and here: her great-grandfather and great-grandmother, Albino and Grazia Oteri, opened the baccalà store in 1918. The Oteris’ son John (Danielle’s uncle) converted the store to a butcher shop post-World War II. Danielle confirms in a Facebook message (thanks, Danielle; thanks, Elaine) that John previously ran a butcher shop for a short time at no. 2378.

The later shop at no. 2374 is the butcher shop in the opening scene of Marty (dir. Delbert Mann, 1955). You can watch here. Look closely and you’ll see the shadow of the street address on the wall.

[Ernest Borgnine as Marty Piletti. Click for a larger view.]

More from Danielle Oteri:

The scenes of Marty working were shot in Oteri’s Butcher Shop. Uncle John had to teach Ernest Borgnine, who also won Best Actor for his performance, how to cut meat, specifically sausage, so that his scenes would be realistic.

Although the screenplay indicates that Marty’s boss was to be named Mr. Gazzara, Uncle John was able to convince them that his name should be used instead, and in the final cut, Marty refers to his boss “Mr. Oteri” at least four times.

In 1980 my Uncle John sold the shop to Peter De Luca, who runs the shop today. Peter has a butcher pedigree as well. He grew up working in his father’s butcher shop on 143rd Street and Morris Avenue. (The current store is named Vincent’s Meat Market in honor of his father.)

Vincent’s Meat Market is still going strong at no. 2374. No. 2378 is now the second-floor residence above the now-defunct Club Fiasco at no. 2376, which took up the storefronts at nos. 2376 and 2378.

You can hear Marty refer to “Mr. Oteri” twice in the scene with Clara (Besty Blair) in the luncheonette and twice in the scene with his cousin Tommy (Jerry Paris) on the Piletti porch. The second (silent) butcher in the opening scene is played by Silvio Minicotti, husband of Esther Minicotti, who plays Marty’s mother Teresa Piletti.

Related posts
More OCA posts with photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives : A corner in Marty (White Plains Road and E. 211th Street) : Happy birthday, Mr. Piletti (Marty and Clara post-Marty)

And from NYC in Film, a detailed look at various Marty locations, with a photograph of Ernest Borgnine and John Oteri. As Marty would say, Holy cow!

The Langston Hughes House

[20 E. 127th Street, Harlem, New York City, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

It’s now the Langston Hughes House, not yet open to the public except for scheduled events. Here from New York City’s Landmarks Preservation Commission, is some history about Hughes and this address, his home from 1948 until his death in 1967.

The NYC Municipal Archives recently posted this photograph with a 1957 recording of Hughes speaking about “The Writer’s Place in America.”

Another Hughes location in a tax photograph: the Harlem Branch Y.

Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard)

[Some sources give 1947 as the year Hughes moved in. Arnold Rampersad’s The Life of Langston Hughes (2002) notes that Emerson Harper, whom Hughes regarded as his uncle, made the purchase on December 23, 1947, evidently keeping Hughes’s name out of the transaction to keep down the price. Harper and Hughes then became joint owners, as did Harper’s wife Toy, whom Hughes regarded as his aunt. Hughes moved to this address in July 1948.]

Schrafft’s, plural

Two weeks ago I posted a tax photograph of a Childs restaurant. I realized after the fact that next to that Childs stood a Schrafft’s. You can see both restaurants, albeit at distance, in this tax photograph:

[Schrafft’s, 291-293 Broadway, Manhattan, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

Like Childs, Schrafft’s restaurants were once ubiquitous in Manhattan: the 1940 telephone directory lists twenty-nine of them. When my mom and dad, not yet parents, worked in Manhattan, they would sometimes meet for lunch at a Schrafft’s. Noticing this Broadway outlet made me want to look for the Schrafft’s where my mom and dad may have eaten lunch.

So I called the Paul Drake Detective Agency and told what I know: my mom would walk from American Cyanamid (30 Rockefeller Plaza); my dad would walk from Johns Manville (22 E. 40th Street). Drake’s conclusion is that they must have met at the Schrafft’s at 556 Fifth Avenue: an eight-minute walk from Rockefeller Plaza, a ten-minute walk from 22 E. 40th. (Paul Drake is never wrong.)

[Schrafft’s, 556 Fifth Avenue, Manhattan, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

Wikipedia has a brief history of the chain. Vanishing New York has some good photographs. The New York Public Library has menus that take forever to load. Here’s one from 1955, when my parents, not yet my parents, may have been Schrafft’s-ing. And here’s a description of Schrafft’s from a 1964 guide to New York.

There’s a website for a revived Schrafft’s whose tone — “Where the Forward Thinkers and Life Seizers, the Night Owls and the Morning Dealmakers banter amongst the Famous and soon-to-be Famous, the Old Guard and their Tiny Titans to be” — and spelling — “fashionable not fadish” — leave me cold. The revival as yet seems to be more idea than reality.

Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard)

Slim’s Radio Service

[Madison Avenue between 118th and 119th Streets, Manhattan, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

Quite a variety of establishments in this stretch of Madison Avenue: a grocery store, Sun Shine Lunch, Slim’s Radio Service, a fish and vegetable market (“Fresh Fish Daily”), and Ebenezer Spiritual Church. I chose this photograph for Slim’s, which might be at 1820: there are few photographs and much ambiguity for this stretch. I like Slim’s signage.

The Municipal Archives’ online materials have been reorganized: tax photographs now seem to be searchable only by address, not with the block and lot codes preserved in the photographs themselves. And the photographs are now available sans watermarks. I’ve posted an especially large version of this one: if you click for the larger view, you‘ll see many details.

Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard)

Two or more grocery stores

  [Roulston’s and 11th Ave. Market, 4512 and 4510 11th Avenue, Boro Park, Brooklyn, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click either image for a much larger view.]

As a young Brooklynite, I never made it to 11th Avenue, but there I am today, where I noticed these grocery stores side by side. What was that all about? I think I know.

Roulston, it turns out, was a major name in groceries. Thomas Roulston (1840–1918) founded what became a chain of at least 700 stores in Brooklyn, Long Island, and Staten Island. His son Thomas H. Roulston (1874–1949) succeeded him. The New York Times headline for Thomas H.’s funeral: “1,000 in Last Tribute to Thomas Roulston.” The chain was sold in 1951.

Here’s a bit of Roulston history and some sample advertisements:

[The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, May 30, 1936. Click either image for a larger view.]

[Home Talk, September 23, 1908. Click for a larger view.]

[The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, June 6, 1921. Click for a larger view.]

[The Brooklyn Daily Times, June 17, 1921. Click for a larger view.]

[The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, August 18, 1949.]

Here’s my idea about 4512 and 4510 11th Avenue: I can’t imagine a grocery store opening next to the outlet of a long-established chain. I suspect that the 11th Ave. Market came first. Some circumstantial evidence: the 1940 Brooklyn telephone directory lists 161 Roulston’s stores. But there’s no listing for this Roulston’s, which makes me suspect it’s a relatively new addition to the chain. Move in next to an established business and — you already know the story. Notice the contrast between Roulston’s many slick-looking signs and the two homemade signs in the windows of 4510.

One more detail: if you click for the larger image, you’ll see a grown-up and a child looking out the window above the ls of Roulston’s.

Before sealing up this rabbit hole, here’s one more Roulston’s, just twelve blocks away. This might be the sharpest, most beautiful tax photo I’ve seen:

[5702 New Utrecht Avenue, Boro Park, Brooklyn, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections.Click for a larger view. You really should.]

Related reading
More OCA posts with photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives : The Roulston warehouse : The warehouse, repurposed

Tip-Top Diner

[Tip-Top Diner, The Bronx, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

The archives have the address as 2448 Prospect Avenue, which can’t be right: no. 2448 is at one end of a row of rowhouses. Looking at Street View of 1940s New York makes me think that this diner resided on Crotona Avenue, next to what is now the Grace H. Dodge Career and Technical High School. There’s a fenced lot where (I think) the diner once stood.

Tip-Top is a lovely name for a diner: it suggests, at least to my ear, a modest spiffiness. The plates and coffee cups shine. The water glasses gleam. The counterman is wearing a bowtie. No cigarette dangles from his lips.

I would have guessed tip-top to be a nineteenth- or twentieth-century invention. But no. The Oxford English Dictionary dates it to 1702. From its beginnings, it had both literal and figurative meanings: “the very top; the highest point or part; the extreme summit”; “highest pitch or degree; extreme height; acme.” The earliest citation, from a translation of Cicero: “When a Wise Man is at the Tip-top of all Felicity, can he wish Things were better with him?”

Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives

[Beer and ale? That’s a Ballantine billboard.]

Loring Grill

[156 West Fordham Road, The Bronx, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

Recall Brooklyn’s Unique Diner: in The Bronx, as in Brooklyn, urban planning apparently required that a dining car to be dropped into the empty slot.

The archives give no street address for the Loring Grill (a short walk from Loring Place), but searching for block=3225 AND lot=169 BX reveals the address. In recent years, no. 156 has been building-less. I suspect it has been building-less since the dining car disappeared. Google Maps shows the location from 2007 to 2022 as a vacant lot, a holding area for an auto-repair shop, a holding area with a storefront security door, and a vacant lot with a storefont security door. The brick building that housed the Gulf station and later auto-repair shop still stands, now boarded off from the sidewalk.

Telephone number for the Loring Grill in 1940: FOrdham 4-8824.

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An assiduous diner-friendly reader found on two relevant pages. Here’s a view of the diner and environs from the east. And here’s a 1947 yearbook advertisement for Charles Tschudin’s Tolentine Diner — same address, different phone number. The yearbook is from St. Nicholas of Tolentine High School. St. Nicholas of Tolentine Church is a block away, at the corner of West Fordham Road and University Avenue.

Also: “A young woman and three men who stole a taxicab yesterday morning and then held up a lunch wagon at 156 West Fordham Road, the Bronx, were captured after they had led two policemen a wild chase for miles through the northern part of the Bronx and Harlem”: The New York Times, January 27, 1931. The owner was a Fred Zucht. The lunch wagon was held up at 1:00 a.m.

Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives

[Why do I insist on capitalizing the t? Because it’s The Bronx.]

The Grennie Pharmacy

Staten Island, like Upper Manhattan, is a mystery to me. Wanting to post a WPA tax photograph to give the borough at least some slight representation in these pages, I thought of New Dorp, the Staten Island neighborhood whose high school was the setting for Peg Tyre’s celebrated 2012 Atlantic article, “The Writing Revolution.” So off I went, to New Dorp.

[The Grennie Pharmacy, 253 New Dorp Lane, New Dorp, Staten Island, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

If the building looks newish, that’s because it was. The NYC Archives date it to 1958 (!), but the more likely date is 1939. I was drawn to the Grennie Pharmacy by the glossy black (glass? granite?) and the elegant capital R.

[Click for a slightly larger view.]

Frank L. Grennie (1896–1969) had a distinguished career as a pharmacist: a page at Find a Grave will give you an idea. An entry in a 1930 compendium of Staten Island lives has more. A prescription box from the Grennie Pharmacy, dated 1942, is for sale at eBay.

What I didn’t expect to find when searching for grennie new dorp : Frank Grennie’s son Richard. He was born in 1924 and enlisted in the Army in 1943. He died in St. Lo, France, on July 13, 1944, in the aftermath of D-Day. The Kells-Grennie American Legion post on Staten Island bears his name.

Today no. 253, still standing, houses a shoe-repair shop, a nail salon, a driving school, and a car service.

Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard)

Nick DeMaio and the Eldorado

A Bronx tale, of Fordham University and environs:

[T]he one nostalgic oasis of civility in the neighborhood was the old Eldorado Bar on Third Avenue, right under the Third Avenue El. The El was scheduled for demolition by 1972. The bar, which had been a tavern since 1890, had a high, plank ceiling supported by a row of wooden posts, with the big rotating fans that later became fashionable in Manhattan watering holes. It had a pool table with a ripped felt cover, and it served Italian hero sandwiches and hamburgers thrown together in a dingy kitchen in the back. The proprietor was Nick DeMaio, five-foot-six and stocky, in his late seventies, wearing a tie and sometimes an apron. He muttered unintelligible wisdom in a gruff voice with a cigar butt stuck in the side of his mouth.

Nick had bought the place in 1922. Faking it as a flower shop in front, the place had been a speakeasy during Prohibition, but more than anything, with its long, solid mahogany bar and the mirror behind it, it resembled a saloon in the cowboy movies.

Raymond A. Schroth, Fordham: A History and Memoir (Chicago: Loyola Press, 2002), 326.

I’m happy to know something about the Eldorado, or the El D, as it was called, a bar I visited but once, with two friends, in the summer of 1981. The place was vast, like an empty stage, with a dull, smooth wood floor. The only people were my friends and I, some tough customers at the pool table, and the proprietor, a little old man wearing a white shirt, a black tie, a brown cigar, and a barkeeper’s apron. The guy was a throwback, as my daughter Rachel would say. He must have been Nick DeMaio.

The Social Security Death Index lists one Nicholas DeMaio whose dates (1898–1993) and last residence (in the Bronx, just a short ride from the bar) mark him as the proprietor of the El D. I’m amazed to think that I was likely ordering beers from a man who had been serving them during Prohibition. I now know from the photograph below that the man tending bar was Nick DeMaio.

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May 20, 2020: A Fordham alum left a link to a 1981 Ram article about Nick DeMaio and the El D. Thanks!

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May 21: Another alum found a 1978 Ram article with a photo of Nick DeMaio. Thanks!

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May 22: Here are photographs of the Eldorado and Nick DeMaio, from The Ram, April 20, 1978. The photographer’s name is Joe Spinosa. And now I can say with certainty that that was Nick DeMaio behind the bar.

[Click either image for a larger view.]

And one more from The Ram, September 24, 1981. The photographer’s name is Dean Donahue.

[Click for a larger view.]

These scans of newspaper pages replace less distinct images from the online Ram. Many thanks to Jeannie Hoag, Reference & Assessment Librarian, and Vivian Shen, Archives Librarian, both of Fordham University.

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January 29, 2022: And here is a photograph of the El D BAR sign, salvaged by students after the building was razed.

[Click for a larger view.]

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January 31: Three more photographs, with the El D making cameo appearances, to the right of the Third Avenue El, or what then remained of the El. Look for the building with the slanting roof and the two-tone wall: 1, 2, 3.

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And one more.

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February 1: And now, at long last, the Eldorado is ready for its close-up:

[4762 Third Avenue, Bronx, New York, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

I tried tracking down a tax photograph by checking the 1940 telephone directory, which had no listing for the Eldorado. Without a street address, the bar cannot be found via Street View of 1940s New York, as its address no longer exists (what was 4762 is now part of the massive Fordham Plaza). But if you have a street address to type in, you’ll find the Eldorado in Street View or in the Municipal Archives (albeit as 4764).

Credit for finding the 4762 address (in a 1974 telephone directory) and the tax photograph goes to Steven Payne, librarian and archivist at The Bronx County Historical Society.

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February 7: But wait — there’s more. Here’s the Eldorado in film footage of the Bronx portion of the Third Avenue El. There’s some Fordham scenery beginning at 1:50. Pick up again at 10:20 and you’ll see the two-tone wall of the El D at 10:36.

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November 21: Here’s the “Must Be Over 21” sign. Jim S. (FC ’85) and Joe M. (CBA, now Gabelli, ’86) bought it from and had it signed by Nick DeMaio. Jim looked for and found it in his attic:

[This sign is visible at the very top of the photograph of Nick DeMaio above. Click for a larger view.]

[One corner of the back, signed, “Eldorado Cafe Inc. N.D.”]

And here’s a 1983 article, also signed, published as the Eldorado neared the end of its life. Christopher Keating also wrote the 1981 Ram article above.

[Daily News, July 21, 1983. Click for a larger view.]

[A newspaper margin, signed “Eldorado Cafe Inc. N.D.”]

Thanks to Jim and Joe for bringing more of the Eldorado back into view.

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December 1: A wonderful addition to this post: photographs from a wedding party’s visit to the Eldorado. Claire and Howie (both Fordham College ’80) visited the Eldorado after their wedding on April 9, 1983. The 3rd Avenue El had ceased operating on April 28, 1973. According to the Daily News article above, the Eldorado was to be demolished in July 1983. It was demolished later that year. I am glad that Claire and Howie got to it in time. Click on any image for a larger view.

[Here’s a Fordham Road sign in its native habitat — an El platform.]

[Nick Demaio, of course, with the just-married couple.]

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Exiled in boston left a comment on another post that has attracted El D patrons:

I am disappointed that I see no reference to Max who tended bar there in the late 60s. The bar also had a great jukebox then. It had a great selection including Hank Williams. As far as I could ever tell, the only place that actually identified the bar as the El Dorado was on the jukebox.

That reader was generous enough to share a photograph of the El D from around the time when the Third Avenue El was being demolished. Wikipedia dates the demolition of the line to 1977.


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Just one more: A reader found this advertisement in the Fordham Libraries Digital Collections. From the program for a football game, Fordham vs. Widener University, September 27, 1974:


Thanks again to all who have contributed to the online afterlife of the Eldorado.

More Bronx tales
Elvis pretzels : The Bronx and Fordham in Naked City