Sunday, December 19, 2010

SUNDAY BREAKFAST











The picture by Lee Sobell reminded me that I’ve known a lot of diners but there never was a diner like Dave’s Luncheonette on Canal Street in Lower Manhattan. Just around the corner from the punk and post-punk Mudd Club, its 24 hour red Rexene and stainless steel could play host to one weirdass selection of clientele around six am on any given Sunday – well beyond the imaginings of Edward Hopper (or maybe even Dennis Hopper.) Cops and junkies, all night girls a long way from the D Train, boys in smeared lipstick, debutantes in torn skirts, drunks eating off the alcohol or early hangovers, hungry freaks, sanitation workers on a break, mailmen on the way to work, alien lifeforms, and characters you wouldn’t even want to categorize, all consuming strong coffee, spigot Coke, and greasy heart-stopping fare as through their lives depended on it. Which was sometimes the literal truth.

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The secret words are Egg Cream

6 comments:

Sphyt said...

sounds like a tom waits song

mr.mr said...

any time the secret word is egg cream...........all is very well

Pepsi said...

Life and coffee can often seem like a Tom Waits song.

hcb said...

Brilliant photograph. It broke my heart when they closed it. It's worth noting that Dave's was at the exact juncture between Little Italy, Chinatown, Soho, Tribeca, and Greenwich Village, and of course, the Baby Doll Lounge, which is also closed. It was also at the midpoint on Canal Street between the Manhattan Bridge and the Holland Tunnel and a short hop from the Film Forum and your old digs on Watts. Blumberg should reconstruct it and build a fucking monument or something.

Melanie said...

The corner is not the same without Dave's. I love the photo! My Dad who rarely dined out for breakfast would stop off at Dave's on the way to a meeting.

Jerry said...

My God. I grew up in Coney Island, and before the Verrazzano Bridge was built, my father would stop at Dave's on our way up to the Catskills for an egg cream, on the way to the Holland Tunnel. (Sounds like I'm ancient, doesn't it?) I still have no idea where he'd park the old Buick.