RIP pt. 1 🪦

Some storefront closures sting more than others.

Here is the first installment of the RIP series, which will serve as a graveyard for specific stores and businesses that have closed in New York City and deserve some recognition.

Essentials was a discount bodega on steroids. They crammed everything under the sun into three-stories on the corner of 81st street and Broadway. Balloons, detergent, low prices, no locks, and half a floor dedicated to toys – it was great. On the bottom, they had a window to order sorbet from the street and two coin-operated rides that must’ve been defunct by the time Google Maps came along.

Before Essentials opened in 1997, the building had been used as an independent bookstore by two successive tenants. From sometime in the 70s until 1981, it was a store called Bloomsday Bookshop. The store’s owner, Enrico Adelman, was obsessed with the James Joyce novel Ulysses, and dedicated an entire two days to reading it out loud in his shop. Adelman can be found on the same block today, selling books from his collection from a table on the street in front of Zabar’s.

When Bloomsday shut down in 1981, Shakespeare & Co. took over. The store became a fan favorite, but when Barnes & Noble opened a few blocks away the lower prices drove independent bookstores to close all around the neighborhood. People were not okay when the store announced its closure in 1996. Toni Morrison told the Times, “Its disappearance is melancholy and outrageous.”

Today, the corner of 81st Street and Broadway is occupied by an 18-story residential building with amenities like a golf simulator room and a state-of-the-art recording studio. Essentials closed its doors in 2015, and the building was entirely torn down by 2017.

RIP

Mars 2112 was a fucking trip. Upon entering, employees dressed in Martian-inspired outfits ushered diners onto a UFO ride that took them to dinner on Mars in the year 2112. The UFO (elevator) deposited patrons on the lower level, where a full bar, arcade room, and three-story Mars-themed dining room was waiting.

It was a gamble when it opened in 1999 – the subterranean retail space at Paramount Plaza wasn’t appealing to most potential tenants. After it was rejected by Rainforest Cafe, Irish businessman and Mars 2112 creator, Paschal Phelan, stepped up with $15 million and a dream.

Mars 2112 was a true flash in the pan- a ‘you had to be there’ type of vibe. In the early 2000s, it was hilariously the go-to venue for late-night afterparties thrown by record labels and radio stations. Brad Pitt took his son, Maddox, there in 2009 and at some point former president Bill Clinton stopped by. The place was not all rainbows and Martians though. Just a year after its opening two men were shot exiting the venue at an afterparty hosted by the hip-hop radio station Hot 97 FM.

Not to mention the finances were continuously shady. Mars 2112 ended up filing for bankruptcy two times, once in 2002 and again in 2007. The place’s fall into disrepair was slow, but not subtle. The landlord – the Paramount Group- complained that the restaurant’s nightclub-like tendencies were ruining the entire building’s reputation – according to the 2007 bankruptcy filing.

By the time it closed in 2012 the iconic UFO ride had been out of service for two years, a brutal hit to a place that had guaranteed visitors a trip to space. The arcade became more like a sad, toy graveyard full of ‘out of service’ signs. People didn’t seem to appreciate themed restaurants the way they did in the early aughts. At the end of it all, the owners were absolutely broke auctioned off all the tchotchkes and games out of dire necessity.

It sat empty for a while – no one was quite sure how to be the follow-up act to Mars 2112. After two years, construction began to replace the sunken plaza with a ‘retail cube’. By 2017, all evidence of Mars 2112’s existence had been erased, replaced with a glassy entrance to the underground cavity that was once a Mars fever dream. Twelve years after it closed, chain restaurant Din Tai Fung opened its first NYC location in the space – no walk-ins.

RIP

This one was a hard loss. Westway Foods, often shortened to Westway, occupied the corner of 78th Street and Amsterdam Avenue for roughly 40 years. It was a typical deli, a step above a bodega, offering cold cuts and pre-made salads alongside snacks and drinks.

The place fostered a sense of community over the years. Neighbors, living in amenity-devoid walk-ups, would get packages delivered there and leave spare apartment keys with with the employees, in case of emergency. Regulars stayed loyal throughout the 80s and 90s, as the Upper West Side slowly transformed into a haven for Starbucks and banks.

Westway also holds a special place in the hearts of many New York City kids for being the most reliable place to get alcohol underaged and without a fake ID. Upon entering the shop, a slight nod and a weird, pubescent smirk would send the employees to the back, emerging thirty seconds later with a plastic bag full of Four Loko or beer cans – it was all very discreet.

Westway’s days were numbered once Duane Reade opened across the street in 2007. Years of customer loyalty gradually leaked away, tempted by wholesale prices and an in-house pharmacy. Not even the booming underage-alcohol trade could save it. By the time the store shut its doors in 2014, the sign had been stripped from the facade for a year – exposing a dirty layer of building underneath.

Locals mourned the loss – another defeat to the commercialization of the neighborhood. Today, the chain restaurant Daily Provisions has a location there, where you can get a salad for $17, but no Four Loko.

RIP