A Connoisseur of Impending Doom

I'd get off at Wall Street even though Bowling Green was closer to the park service work boat.  One reason was an addiction to the balls-to-wall energy on Wall Street.  People moving with an expressed purpose, laser focused determination and guts full of cranky anxiety. You know, how most of us commute home.  In 1985, working women wore little silk blossom ties with navy flannel suits and white leather running shoes, their heels sticking out of LL Bean canvas totes. I wonder where they all went.

The other reason was food. There was a Greek coffee stand run by George. There's always a guy named George in a Greek coffee stand.  A regular coffee, three fast spoons of sugar, and too much cream.  Like melted Hagen Daaz coffee ice cream... only sweeter.

If I was flush, there was a small diner in an office building on Broad Street where two, huge breasted Puerto Rican waitresses, in turtlenecks and rainbow clip-on suspenders, served the only grits south of 125th Street.

The soundtrack came from Madonna's, Like A Virgin on a beat up Radio Shack walkman.  WNBC's,  Don Imus thought she sounded like Minnie Mouse on helium.  Young suits on park benches snorted cocaine with the Journal or NY Post on their lap and Ray Bans covering their eyes. But mostly I remember him and the smell.  A ripe and rotting  BO. 

He was tucked half way into a bright blue sleeping bag at the end of a park bench.  Long silver hair streaked in black fell onto a long grey beard that fell onto a signal yellow shirt. He looked up and pointed at me like he was gonna hit a fly ball my direction.  But he didn't. Instead, he yelled, "This could happen to you!" Fellow pedestrians peel away as his eyes lock on me. Too lazy to detour, I approach the bench as he follows me with his pointing finger, extended for emphasis, by a long yellow nail with a thick black crescent of crud underneath.

"Yeah, you.  Fucking, Stacy Keach! This could happen to you!"

I walk by looking straight ahead.  "Fuck you, Stacy Keach!  Fuck  youuuuuu..." slowly ebbs away under Minnie Mouse's, Dress You Up.  "Stacy Keach?" I wondered. I don't look like Stacy Keach.  Don't get me wrong.  I like Stacy Keach.  He's amazing in 'The Traveling Executioner' and 'Doc.'  27 years later I still don't get Stacy Keach -- That it could happen to me?  A day doesn't go by that I know it can and probably will.

Will This Ever Disappear in NYC?

Rejected 'New Yorker' cartoon by Michael Shaw

Remembering GMS

It was a small serif monogram centered on the top of the pocket. The shirt was always a white oxford button down. The monogram was always blue. I never heard an employee call him, 'the boss.' He was, 'GMS.' "GMS is pissed off about this." "You gotta stay at the hotel GMS owns." "GMS won't let me go." And the infamous, "GMS wants cinnamon toast."

For almost four years I handled an account called the NY Yankees. There are a lot of stories that came from it. But for now there is only the monogram. GMS. By the time I came along GMS was wearing white turtlenecks. But employees wore his 'hand me down' white oxfords with his blue monogram. From the man who cut grass to the man who bought the insurance. Those monogrammed shirts were everywhere.

"Your" Caswell - Massey

Script from 1873

Chloroform?

This chest found in wall of Lexingon Store

An Army Jock Strap

Poison found in chest

A possible replica but still beautiful

Not a replica

Casma is a scent coming back in limited release for this Mother's Day

I have no idea

My favorite red head

Toilet Powder - Sounds better than Talc

I have no idea

A shaving mug

First off, and let me just say this, I love learning about companies and what they make. It's a big part of my other job that pays me. I always run into two types of companies. Those whose employees call what they make, "product." And those who call what they make by "name." At no time did anyone at Caswell - Massey refer to a soap or cologne by that horrid MBA speak, "product."

That's my first clue that the people I'm talking to are passionate about what they're doing. I guess it's easy to be passionate about working for a company that precedes the founding of our country by 25 years. 31 years if you only recognise the 1783 Treaty of Paris. Talk about your reputation preceding you.

History is a wonderful thing in anything. It gives us some soul in a world chock full of things that are never what they appear to be. And when you find something that's authentic - hold on to it. Doesn't matter whether it's stuff or people. Either is hard to come by.

Caswell - Massey's landlord, the Intercontinental Hotel, doesn't know much about soul. Check out time for the 84 year old tenant is April 3rd. I swear, I thought only Chicago was this cold when it came to real estate. The store at Lex is offering 25% off (excluding luxury items) if you leave them your email address.

The new store opens up in the old Limelight (6th Ave & 20th St) Club on April 23rd. I don't have fond memories of that club nor do I think it the appropriate place for Caswell - Massey. But unless the store receives National Landmark Status between now and April 3rd...there's not a whole lot that can be done except to exhale a deep sigh, shake our heads and wish for the financial collapse of a certain hotel chain.

These photos were taken at the Edison, NJ warehouse. Everything you see came out of the Lexington store. I'll post other pictures that will follow this post of the Lex location in case you can't make it to NY before the closing.

Checking Out

'Their' Caswell - Massey

At the corner of 48th and Lexington Ave since 1926.

Started in Newport, Rhode Island in 1752 by Scottish pharmacist, Dr. William Hunter. Now this isn't some company that went outta business in 1857 and was started back up in 1976 by some cretin Wall Streeter who was marketing ersatz heritage. Caswell - Massey has been going non stop since 1752.

Hunter sold drugs and imported perfume to the 18th century version of today's high-net-worth. He also mixed his own scents and numbered them one to twenty which is where the No. 6 comes from. I tried to draw a cartoon of me asking George Washington for a bar of soap in an army barracks shower but it didn't turn out so hot.

Washington was a fan of No. 6 but I don't know if he knew Dr Hunter was loyalist. Not that it made much difference. Hunter died in 1777 while treating British soldiers. After the end of the war Hunter's wife transferred ownership of the shop to an employee and the loyalist connection was lost to history.

Caswell - Massey opened their first NYC store in 1833 and operated as a pharmacy as late as 1990 in their current location. Sadly, they are departing the current location after 84 years. Word is a bank is going in their old space. Well, NYC certainly needs more banks and the Intercontinental Hotel needs more rent dollars. If you want to see this remarkable space you better hurry.

The soda fountain removed sometime in the 1950's.

Upon entering the store, you can still see a discoloration of the tile floor where the stools were. This is where a 19 year old Lauren Bacall insisted upon meeting Humphrey Bogart (45) for the first time before they made the 1945 picture, 'To Have and Have Not.' Apparently Bacall felt safer in a soda fountain with Bogart. Soon you'll be able to use an ATM on this very spot.

I swear the man behind the counter looks like Leonard Rossiter.

These B&W photos are from the archives of Caswell - Massey. I'll go into further detail about my visit there tomorrow but wonderful people. You'd have thought they'd throw me a sample or two. But who needs samples at these prices?

Caswell - Massey was never much for advertising. The marketing was mostly word of mouth and some very famous folks enjoyed just stopping in. Of course, I always enjoy just stopping into a bank.

It is nice to know I share the "I didn't buy anything" guilt trait with Greta Garbo. Every time she stopped in Caswell - Massey on one of her long walks she felt guilty if she didn't buy anything and would always purchase a tortoise shell comb. I know just how she felt.

Store window from extinct clothier, F.R. Tripler

John F. Kennedy's favorite cologne was Jockey Club. It's an intense scent that's very masculine. Both Canoe (1935) and Old Spice (1938) were originally formulated for women with Old Spice being tweaked for men by some added citrus - - but you could learn that at any bank.

Tomorrow: Your Caswell - Massey - New Stuff & New Digs

Joe Ades The Peeler Man

Mr. Ades passed away in his sleep last Sunday. He was 75. I would see him at Union Square and across the street from Bloomingdales slicing carrots in a Turnbull and Asser shirt. If you don't live in New York please take a couple of minutes and watch the You Tube video below. You'll see why I love this city so much.