Wednesday, April 1, 2015


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.

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