When a Candy Store Isn't a Candy Store
The Times’ new blog The Local tries to go where few, if any, bloggers have gone before—inside the Putnam Candy Store. Contrary to what the store’s web site says, there is no candy to be found. Here’s the play-by-play: So the other day, at 12:30 on a brilliant afternoon, I tried the doorknob. Notwithstanding the…
The Times’ new blog The Local tries to go where few, if any, bloggers have gone before—inside the Putnam Candy Store. Contrary to what the store’s web site says, there is no candy to be found. Here’s the play-by-play:
So the other day, at 12:30 on a brilliant afternoon, I tried the doorknob. Notwithstanding the 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. hours listed on the Web site, the door was locked. After a bit, though, it opened slowly from the inside. A 50ish man in a work uniform of some sort, holding an open tallboy of Bud, peered quizzically out from behind the door.
Um, is this the store? I asked, trying to peer past him. In the shadows I could make out the figures of two or three other men sitting and talking. The beer in the greeter’s hand was the only visible merchandise.
No, he said. Across the street. He lifted his chin in the direction of an open bodega cater-corner across Putnam and Grand and gently closed the door in my face.
The blog also gets City Councilwoman Letitia James to go on record about the store. There’s a lot of traffic, people going in and out, she told The Local. I don’t know what you’d attribute that to — a lot of people buying milk, or people buying something stronger. Grand and Putnam has been a challenge since I first got elected. It’s improved greatly but we still have our challenges, and the candy store may be one of them.
Have any readers ever been inside?
At a Local Candy Store, But Where Are the Mars Bars? [NYT/The Local] GMAP
No, wasder. Think hard. You can do it.
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When a million-dollar-plus brownstone isn’t a million-dollar-plus brownstone. Sobering.
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Wrong thread BHO?
Not sure exactly what goes on in there but I’ve had some of their fabulous “corn whiskey” (aka moonshine). Delightful.
A friend of mine from out of town was touring around Bay Ridge and walked into what he thought was an innocent Pizza shop for a slice. As he described it – it was a scene out of The Sopranos. Five “connected” looking men sitting around the table, all with linen pants, lace-up shoes and silk button-down shirts, untucked, not doing much of anything. No other customers were coming in or out, and no piiza was to be found. Suddenly one guy looks at him and said (no joke) “pal, whadda you want, a f___in pizza pie? Go over ta grimaldis.” And they all laughed.
When a million-dollar-plus brownstone isn’t a million-dollar-plus brownstone. Sobering.
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I totally hear you and as an almost neighbor of said Candy Store I have no agenda to get rid of it. I have always been curious and think that the Times guy has more balls than me thats all. I have never been a reporter and been professionally obliged to knock on doors when uninvited.
“for a totally unknown person to go up to that door and knock would have taken some gumption”
Yes, you’re right. The place would definitely be intimidating, particularly for someone not from the area who doesn’t know the score. But I was once a reporter, it was my job to knock on doors that at times were less than inviting. I was definitely unnerved at times. Anyway, it seems you catch my drift. I’m not saying the place is good or bad, just describing what’s probably going on there.
I hear you ENY. I was just pointing out for a totally unknown person to go up to that door and knock would have taken some gumption, as you point out if you are not a regular there you are not wanted. But as I also said, I walk past there everyday and have never have never witnessed anything violent or threatening happening, despite its less than stellar appearance (which I kind of like in an old school NYC kind of way).
“Its just that they don’t seem to want just anybody going in there and that is why I think the Times guy would have been or should have been a bit nervous knocking.”
We had places like this when I was a kid in East New York. The same guys went in and out, and hung out there, but nothing ever happened. You knew that if your father didn’t hang out there, and you didn’t know anyone who did, you stayed the hell out of there. But it wasn’t like they were threatening anyone. They weren’t. They just wanted their own street hangout. It looked like crap, but they’re GUYS. What the hell do they care? The guys who hung out there knew the cops would shut them down if anything too bad happened there, and why would they want that? Like at an Italian social club, at the most that would happen to an undesirable is he’d be told to mind his own business and get the hell out of there. Anyone who grew up in my neighborhood, when I did, would know all of this.