My fascination with the dwindling presence of classic art supply and camera shops in New York City sparked a recent reflection on the city’s evolving landscape. Diving into my archive of black and white negatives from 1976-1979, captured with my trusty Canon FTb during visits to NYC from my Rhode Island School of Design days, I unearthed a panoramic view of Canal Street, with the iconic Pearl Paint store taking center stage. Canal Street, a stone’s throw from my sister’s Grand Street apartment near Sixth Avenue, became a cherished destination during those formative years. Her hospitality provided a perfect base for countless NYC explorations, even after her marriage in 1978.
This photographic rediscovery ignited a wave of nostalgia, reminding me of the unique charm Canal Street once held and the profound transformations it has undergone in recent decades. The relentless rise of rents has been a well-documented adversary to independent businesses across New York. While today’s gentrification, as highlighted in The New York Times, is arguably preferable to the urban decay that once marked the street, there’s a palpable sense that Canal Street, much like other iconic NYC neighborhoods, risks becoming just another upscale commercial strip, indistinguishable from those in any major American city, as Curbed NY poignantly illustrates.
A Walk Through Time: The History of Canal Street
My old Canal Street photographs spurred me to delve deeper into the captivating history of this iconic New York City thoroughfare. Its origins are rooted in solving a significant 19th-century urban challenge: industrial waste management. Before the infamous Five Points neighborhood emerged, the area was home to Collect Pond, a natural freshwater spring that served as a crucial water source for early Manhattan residents until the late 1700s, as detailed by NYChinatown.org. However, the burgeoning industries, particularly tanneries and breweries, began discharging vast quantities of refuse into the pond, leading to severe pollution. The low-lying topography prevented natural drainage, necessitating an engineered solution: a canal. Constructed to effectively drain Collect Pond, the canal operated from 1813 to 1815, after which the pond was entirely drained. By 1820-1821, the canal itself was covered, giving rise to Canal Street. Significantly, in 1838, part of this reclaimed land became the site of the notorious prison complex known as The Tombs. Adding another layer of historical intrigue, 156 Canal Street, known as the White House, was once the residence of John F. Schrank, who, as documented by Wikipedia, attempted to assassinate former President Theodore Roosevelt in 1912. Interestingly, before 47th Street ascended to diamond district fame, Canal Street was a prominent hub for jewelry businesses, especially at the corner of Canal and Bowery, with some jewelers still maintaining a presence in Chinatown, as noted by The Fader.
Remembering Canal Street’s Golden Era: Personal Anecdotes and Iconic Stores
My recollections of Canal Street extend eastward into Chinatown, particularly the vibrant stretch east of Mulberry Street. Beyond Pearl Paint, my most vivid memories center on the eclectic mix of stores nestled between Sixth Avenue and Lafayette Street. This section of Canal Street was a treasure trove of job lot merchandise, plexiglass in sheets and tubes, and an assortment of supplies catering to artists and tinkerers, a haven that The New York Times described in a 2004 article about the closing of one such store as a “haven for tinkerers” [https://www.nytimes.com/2004/08/31/nyregion/canal-street-journal-haven-for-tinkerers-closes-its-nuts-and-bolts-business.html]. In 1981, Canal Street boasted a notable cluster of plastic suppliers, including Canal Plastic Center (#345), Industrial Plastics (#309), and Art Plastics (#359). Today, Canal Plastic Center, located between Wooster and Greene Streets, appears to be the sole survivor of these brick-and-mortar establishments. It might even be the very place where I acquired the blue plexiglass for a marble torso sculpture I created during my senior year at RISD. Industrial Plastics, while no longer a physical storefront, continues to operate as an online retailer, as Core77 reported in their article [https://www.core77.com/posts/4072/Industrial-Plastics-is-Alive-and-Well-Sort-of].
Vintage Goods and Street Vendors
During my visits around 1978, I remember discovering a small antique mall on Canal Street. I recall showing my alabaster sculptures to a dealer there, who offered to sell them on consignment. However, when another dealer suggested I take my work to the larger Showplace Antique + Design Center on 25th Street [https://nyshowplace.com/], the first dealer became upset and asked me to leave. Regrettably, I have no photographic documentation of this Canal Street antique mall.
Canal Street’s history of street vendors is long-standing, evident in a circa 1910 photograph by Lewis Hine, documenting child labor [http://www.historyplace.com/unitedstates/childlabor/]. I have fond memories of the street dealers selling vintage items. One particular encounter remains etched in my mind.
After capturing the photo below of a jewelry vendor, a group of boys insisted on taking my picture with my Canon FTb [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canon_FTb]. Sensing a potential scam even then, I declined and waited until they moved on. This vendor was selling Mexican fire agate sterling silver rings for $10 each. Though tempted, my limited funds led me to resist the purchase.
Regularly, I would browse Canal Jean & Co, conveniently located next to Pearl Paint [https://www.vulture.com/2014/04/6-new-york-artists-on-the-closing-of-pearl-paint.html]. Canal Jean offered an extensive collection of vintage surplus clothing. Beyond used jeans, their inventory included men’s vests, cardigans, leather jackets, underwear, ties, scarves, and military knapsacks. My sole purchase was a salmon-colored vintage sweater, a decision quickly regretted due to its pilling. Canal Jean even made a cameo in the 1981 film My Dinner with Andre [https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0082783/]. After relocating to 504 Broadway, the store seemed to lose its authentic vintage charm, becoming more of an overpriced imitation. Founder Ira Russack [https://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/attorney-blue-canal-jeans-founder-ira-russack-lawsuit-article-1.186017] leased the 504 Broadway building to Bloomingdale’s in 2002 and sold it five years later. Canal Jean [https://www.yelp.com/biz/canal-jean-company-brooklyn-2] briefly reopened in Brooklyn but is now defunct.
Church Street Surplus, just south of Canal Street, remains the only true vintage clothing store I know of in the area. During a 2015 visit, I found a great, albeit pricey, selection of authentic vintage items and had an interesting conversation with the owner’s daughter about the shop’s history, as detailed by Tribeca Citizen [https://tribecacitizen.com/shopping/church-street-surplus/].
Diners and Dives: A Taste of Old New York on Canal Street
Dave’s Luncheonette [https://viewing.nyc/vintage-new-york-city-photograph-shows-corner-of-canal-street-and-broadway-in-1984/], a 24-hour diner at the southeast corner of Canal and Broadway, particularly captivated me. I photographed it numerous times from December 1976 through 1979. While I never dined inside, I vividly recall getting a 65-cent egg cream to go in 1979! Dave’s was still operating in 1984, but its later history is unclear. I also photographed Chock full O’Nuts [https://ephemeralnewyork.wordpress.com/2018/12/03/how-new-york-did-coffee-in-the-1950s-and-1960s/] on Canal Street between Lafayette and Broadway, though it lacked the visual appeal of Dave’s, which The New Yorker captured in a 1977 article [https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1977/10/31/daves].
Canal Street Now
On more recent visits, the proliferation of vendors hawking counterfeit designer bags and cheap souvenirs has been a disappointing transformation. These stores detract from Canal Street’s unique character. However, according to a Yahoo! Lifestyle article [https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/group-property-owners-turning-canal-195422286.html], these businesses, much like the job lot stores of the past, may be facing their own era of change. During my last visit in August 2018, I noted the closure of Argo Electronics [http://vanishingnewyork.blogspot.com/2017/10/argo-electronics.html], a Canal Street institution for nearly four decades. In 2015, I purchased a simple ebony walking stick there for just $5.00, only to later discover it was damaged and not worth shipping home.
Even the sweater vendors, with their sealed bags preventing inspection, were absent. While not entirely missed – a past purchase of two cashmere sweaters from such a vendor resulted in one with moth holes and another mis-sized donation – their absence marks a further shift on Canal Street.
I plan to share more from my collection of vintage black and white NYC photographs soon, with high-resolution prints available for purchase.
