I've always liked the names of those early twentieth-century apartment buildings. The mock-heroic fiefdoms of courts & halls, the sentimental echoes of nature, the first names long extinct as choices for today's offspring - the Mildreds and Arthurs, Muriels and Reginalds. There's something both stuffy and endearing about their identities, and even a little poignant. Centenarians of mixed fortunes, some well-tailored, some distinctly down-at-heel, their manners remain impeccable.
Two on 47th between Ninth & Tenth: the Berkshire and the Albert Arms.