Discovering a forgotten box of old black and white negatives can be like unearthing a time capsule. Recently, while scanning negatives from my Canon FTb days (1976-1979) – a period marked by frequent and cherished trips to NYC from my art school life in Providence – I stumbled upon a panoramic shot that stopped me in my tracks: Canal Street, with the iconic Pearl Paint store anchoring the scene. My sister’s move to a Grand Street apartment, just east of Sixth Avenue, had made these NYC pilgrimages possible, offering a convenient base to explore the city’s vibrant streets.
This photograph, along with others from that era, unleashed a torrent of memories about my deep affection for Canal Street as it once was. Looking at these images, I’m struck by the stark contrast to the Canal Street of today. The relentless march of escalating rents has undeniably reshaped the landscape of small, independent businesses across New York City. While the current wave of gentrification is arguably preferable to the blight and vacant storefronts that previously plagued the area, there’s a palpable sense that Canal Street, much like other once-unique NYC neighborhoods, risks morphing into just another upscale commercial strip, indistinguishable from countless others in major cities across the USA.
A Glimpse into Canal Street’s Past
To truly appreciate the transformation of Canal Street, it’s essential to understand its origins. My rediscovered photos spurred me to delve into the intriguing history of this famous thoroughfare, a history rooted in solving a rather unglamorous problem: industrial waste.
From Canal to Street: The History
Long before the infamous Five Points slum gained notoriety, a small area of Manhattan was home to Collect Pond. This spring-fed lake served as a vital source of fresh water for early New Yorkers until the late 1700s. However, with the growth of tanneries and breweries along its banks, Collect Pond became increasingly polluted with industrial runoff. The low-lying topography of the area hindered natural drainage, leading to unsanitary conditions. The solution? A canal was constructed to effectively drain Collect Pond. Between 1813 and 1815, the pond was completely drained, and by 1820-1821, the canal itself was covered over, giving birth to Canal Street.
Interestingly, in 1838, a portion of this reclaimed land became the site of the infamous prison known as The Tombs. Adding another layer of historical intrigue, the White House, located at 156 Canal Street, was once the residence of John F. Schrank, the man who attempted to assassinate former U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt in 1912. Before 47th Street rose to prominence as the Diamond District, Canal Street was a hub for jewelry businesses, particularly at the corner of Canal and the Bowery. Even today, a few jewelry stores persist in this area, a nod to its glittering past, nestled within the edges of Chinatown.
Pearl Paint and Canal Jean side-by-side on NYC’s Canal Street in November 1977, a snapshot of a bygone era of unique New York City businesses.
Canal Street in its Heyday: A Personal Perspective
Beyond the historical facts, my personal recollections paint a vivid picture of Canal Street’s unique character. My memories extend eastward into Chinatown, particularly the bustling area east of Mulberry Street. However, it was the stretch between Sixth Avenue and Lafayette Street that truly captivated me, a haven of wonderfully eclectic stores. This section of Canal Street was, for a time, renowned for its “job lot” goods, sheets of plexiglass and tubing, and an astonishing array of other supplies – a veritable treasure trove for artists and tinkerers alike.
In 1981, the plastic suppliers on Canal Street were plentiful, including names like Canal Plastic Center (#345), Industrial Plastics (#309), and Art Plastics (#359). To my knowledge, only Canal Plastic Center, situated between Wooster and Greene Streets, remains as a physical store today. In fact, it might very well be the same place where I purchased the blue plexiglass for a marble torso sculpture during my senior year at RISD. While Industrial Plastics is no longer a brick-and-mortar store, it thankfully continues to operate online, keeping a piece of Canal Street’s legacy alive in the digital age.
Looking north on Broadway from Canal Street in 1916, showcasing the historical architecture and bustling street life of early 20th century NYC.
A vintage photograph of Broadway and Canal Street in 1899, capturing the intersection during the horse-drawn carriage era and the early days of New York City’s rapid growth.
Personal Encounters and Vintage Treasures
My Canal Street explorations weren’t limited to art supplies. I also frequented a small antique mall on Canal Street. Around 1978, I remember showing some of my small alabaster sculptures to a dealer there. She offered to sell them on consignment, but when another dealer suggested I try the Showplace Antique + Design Center on 25th Street, things took a turn. The first dealer became visibly upset and abruptly asked me to leave. Regrettably, I don’t have any photographic evidence of this Canal Street antique mall, a forgotten piece of the street’s retail history.
The Allure of Vintage Goods and Street Vendors
Canal Street has a long-standing association with street vendors, a tradition vividly captured in a circa 1910 photograph by Lewis Hine, depicting children working at a street stand. I have fond memories of the vintage goods sold by street dealers in later years, including a particular encounter that remains etched in my mind.
Children tending a stand on Canal Street, captured in a 1910 photograph by Lewis Hine, providing a glimpse into early 20th century street vending and child labor.
After I snapped the photo below of a jewelry vendor, a group of boys insisted on taking my picture with my Canon FTb. Even then, I was wary enough to recognize a potential con and politely declined, waiting until they moved on. This particular vendor was selling Mexican fire agate sterling silver rings for $10 each. I briefly considered buying one but, being short on cash, decided against it – a minor regret in my Canal Street memories.
A jewelry vendor on Canal Street in November 1977, photographed by Betsy van Die, showcasing the street’s vibrant street vendor culture during that era.
Another Canal Street institution I frequented was Canal Jean & Co, conveniently located right next to Pearl Paint. Canal Jean was a treasure trove of vintage surplus clothing. Beyond used jeans, you could find an eclectic mix of men’s suit vests, cardigan sweaters, leather jackets, military knapsacks, and more. My sole purchase there was a salmon-colored vintage sweater that I almost immediately regretted due to its excessive pilling. Interestingly, Canal Jean even made a cameo appearance in the 1981 movie My Dinner with Andre! After Canal Jean relocated to 504 Broadway, it seemed to lose some of its authentic vintage charm, becoming more of an overpriced imitation. Despite a brief revival in Brooklyn, Canal Jean is now sadly defunct. For those seeking genuine vintage clothing south of Canal Street today, Church Street Surplus remains a notable, albeit pricier, option.
Diners and Dives: Remembering Dave’s Luncheonette
My Canal Street experiences were not just about shopping; they also included soaking in the street’s culinary atmosphere. I was particularly drawn to Dave’s Luncheonette, a 24-hour diner on the southeast corner of Canal and Broadway. I photographed Dave’s numerous times, starting in December 1976 and periodically throughout the late 1970s. While I never actually ate a full meal there, I distinctly remember getting an egg cream to go for a mere 65 cents in 1979! Dave’s was still operating in 1984, but its fate beyond that remains uncertain. I also captured Chock full O’Nuts on the south side of Canal between Lafayette and Broadway, although this coffee shop lacked the unique visual appeal of Dave’s.
Strolling past Dave’s Corner Luncheonette on Canal Street in December 1976, capturing the classic diner facade and the street’s vintage ambiance.
The carry-out window of Dave’s Luncheonette on Canal Street, November 1977, highlighting the diner’s accessibility and classic New York City street food culture.
A glimpse of prices at Dave’s Luncheonette in April 1979, with a 45-cent egg cream and 65-cent frankfurters, reflecting the affordable dining options of the era on Canal Street.
The Chock full o’Nuts coffee shop on Canal Street in November 1977, showcasing another classic New York City eatery and the street’s diverse retail landscape.
Canal Street Now
In more recent visits to Canal Street, I’ve been less enamored with the proliferation of vendors hawking counterfeit designer bags and cheap souvenirs. These stores, selling knock-off goods, detract from the street’s unique character. However, much like the job lot stores of the 70s and 80s, their days might be numbered as property owners aim to reshape the street’s image. On my last visit in August 2018, I noticed the closure of Argo Electronics, a long-standing Canal Street fixture that had been in business for nearly four decades. In 2015, I purchased a simple African ebony walking stick there, only to later discover it was damaged. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth shipping home and was eventually discarded.
Argo Electronics on Canal Street in 2015, captured by Jeremiah’s Vanishing New York, documenting the store shortly before its closure and highlighting the changing retail landscape.
Even the sweater vendors, with their sealed bags of questionable merchandise, were absent on my last visit. Perhaps not a significant loss, considering my past experience of buying two cashmere sweaters, only to find one riddled with moth holes.
I’m excited to share more of my vintage black and white NYC photographs soon, and high-resolution prints will be available for purchase for those interested in owning a piece of New York City history.
