Eats from the Past
The Lexington Candy Shop, Lexington Ave. and E. 83rd St., opened in 1925 and underwent its last renovation in 1948, which looks about right for its laminated maroon and beige sign on the outside. A hallmark of the era was the curved E and the A with a curved top instead of the usual corner. There’s also the big lowercase “N” standing in for the capital. The neon sign, seen in the upper left corner, is of newer vintage but has also evolved into a classic. The Lexington Candy Shop is the kind of place that specializes in fresh-squeezed orange juice, Coca-Cola mixed from syrup and seltzer water, and egg creams.
The Lexington is pretty much what one-time NYC ice cream franchise Jahn’s evolved into before Jahn’s mostly evaporated. There was never the Gay Nineties décor Jahn’s was into, but the menu is hearty breakfasts, sandwiches, burgers, fries and ice cream in different varieties. As their website boasts, the interior is largely unchanged since 1948; while not the vintage of say, Eddie’s of Forest Hills (see below), it’s still snazzy in a way that modern designers couldn’t ever manage. Why do ice cream shops preserve old-timey interiors? The same reason so many liquor stores keep their vintage neon signs: a vague sense of nostalgia.
The Lex prides itself on its Coca-Cola bottle collection, as well as Coke memorabilia like toy trucks and international items donated from visitors worldwide. I’ve liked Coke’s simple mostly red-and-white color scheme throughout the years, and that its script logo goes back to the company’s beginnings as a patent medicine in 1885.
Eddie’s Sweet Shop is well-known to devotees—it’s held forth on the corner of Metropolitan and 72nd Rd. for several decades. The place is almost 100 years old and has well preserved its early-20th century character. With the original tiles, marble, woodwork, and wallpaper, the sweet shop has between 18 and 20 ice cream flavors that are concocted in the store’s basement. The only person allowed to make the stuff is Eddie’s owner Vito Cintrano.
A visit to the interior—with wood tables with wrought-iron chairs, wood-paneled walls with ancient light fixtures, and menu of ice cream sundae dishes and fountain specials like banana splits with any topping imaginable—no doubt provides the same experience as in 1995, 1965 or 1935. A huge glass case beckons the kiddies with candy of all descriptions. Etched glass signs, a neon “soda” sign and a “privilege” sign provided by Coca-Cola contribute to three generations of store signage. I always order two scoops of vanilla, hot fudge and nuts because I’m a traditionalist when it comes to ice cream parlors.
Brennan and Carr was founded in 1938 at Gravesend Neck Rd. and Nostrand Ave. and has sold roast beef sandwiches as a staple from the start. It’s famed for its heaping sandwiches au jus, served with fries and other sides. For years, its combo burger/roast beef sandwich (the Gargiulo Burger) was a secret item known only to regulars. Its hot dogs and desserts such as blueberry pie a la mode are also highly rated. Though it has a popular takeout window, it’s a sit-down restaurant with white-coated waiters (as opposed to its opponent in the Sheepshead Bay Roast Beef Wars, Roll n Roaster on Emmons Ave,, which has a fast food vibe). Unlike other venerable beeferies like Peter Luger, which specializes in porterhouse steak (though its lunchtime burgers are also highly scored), you can eat heartily at B & C for $20 or less (though recent inflation may have made that moot).
In June 2019, Forgotten New York’s tour of Gravesend was the best-attended of the year with between 40-45 people. As with every tour, I walk my chosen route a week or so before, just to see if there’s anything extra I should talk about. I wrapped up my walk with a pair of squares at L&B Spumoni Gardens on 86th St., which has been dispensing pizza, Italian food and spumoni desserts since the 1930s. More conventional slices are available, but L&B is renowned for its squares, similar to Detroit-style pizza, with thick crust and tomato sauce on top of the cheese. It’s not as heavy as Detroit pizza (which is sold in NYC at Lions, Tigers and Squares, at 8th Ave. and W. 23d St.).
The restaurant as currently configured was constructed in the 1950s. At first, the Gardens sold just desserts and ice cream, but later became famed for its Sicilian-style thick crust pizza. The Barbati family continues to operate the venue. Like Many Italian restaurants, there’s a sit-down dining room and a pizzeria on the side serving slices, or in the Garden’s case, squares.
When I’m in Coney or Gravesend, I choose one of two places for lunch: Nathan’s Famous or L&B. Both L&B and Nathan’s have outdoor patios, which is good for the warmest time of year. If you’re not into noisy kiddie-filled crowds, avoid weekend afternoons.
For a long time, I’d expressed a desire to visit the White Mana hamburger joint in The Heights in Jersey City, since I’d heard and read about it (and its former stablemate, the White Manna in Hackensack) for several years. It’s about an hour walk from the Hoboken waterfront, as long as you don’t mind a climb up a steep set of stairs crossing the ridge that separates Hoboken from Jersey City. By the time I was ready to go, knowing that my Hoboken work stint was ending soon, it was dark out and discretion was necessary, especially in unfamiliar neighborhoods. That’s where my friend, author and musician Lindley Farley (Oddball New York) came in, as he gave fellow photographer Shell Sheddy and me a lift to the joint, at Tonnelle and Manhattan Aves.
The White Mana, with one N, has its origins at the 1939-1940 Flushing Meadows World’s Fair, evidenced by the Trylon and Perisphere symbols in the rear. It’s a tidy, circular building, with a horseshoe-shaped counter. The idea behind so small a restaurant was the “three-step” rule: The person behind the counter needn’t take more than three steps to prepare the order.
The White Mana features some of the few remaining public representations of the conical Trylon and/or the Perisphere. There had been a mosaic of the Trylon at Forest Hills’ Trylon Theater (obliterated around 2000) and there’s still a small concrete Trylon ornament on a building at 108th and Van Doren Sts. in Corona. The circular building was constructed by the Kullman diner manufacturers.
After the fair closed, entrepreneur Louis Bridges purchased it and made it the keystone of a five-restaurant franchise, all known as White Mannas with two N’s, located in Jersey City, Hackensack, Elizabeth and Springfield. Manna referred to the bread-like substance that Yahweh rained down on the itinerant Israelites during their travails in the desert after leaving Egypt in the Book of Exodus. Originally, all of Bridges’ Mannas were correctly spelled with a double N, but after The Jersey City White Manna opened in 1946, a sign-painter mistakenly left out one N, and this error’s now used to tell apart the two original White Man(n)as that are still operating, one N in Jersey City, two in Hackensack.
In 1979 Mario Costa, formerly a busboy at the Mana (he joined the staff in 1972), purchased it from Luis Bridges’ brother Webster, who was then running the day-to-day ops, for $80,000. Then, Bridges opened the White Manor across Tonnelle Ave., but it didn’t survive. In 1979, Costa was 23 and he still owns the place. A few years ago, the intersection was nicknamed Mario Costa Corner.
Until recently the White Mana had a “Curb Service” sign outside. The practice started in the 1950s. Several burlesque dancers from Union City’s Hudson Theatre made extra money shuttling orders to the parking lot. The fare is reasonably-priced. When I visited, it was $10 for three White Mana burgers, fries and a drink. The burgers are of the steamed variety you may be familiar with from the White Castle franchise, but they’re larger. The buns aren’t much, but I’m here for the ambience.
A few years later, I finally took a train to Hackensack and visited the White Manna, with two N’s, in a similar but smaller building, and found the fare just as good.
—Kevin Walsh is the webmaster of the award-winning website Forgotten NY, and the author of the books Forgotten New York (HarperCollins, 2006) and also, with the Greater Astoria Historical Society, Forgotten Queens (Arcadia, 2013)