Farewell Five Pointz?

We've been down this road before. Once I heard that New York's Graffiti Mecca known as 5 Pointz was destined for demolition, I decided to see it in person. When I finally had time to make the trip to Queens, the demolition prep work was already in progress. It's colorful vibrance and distinct artistic forms were mostly painted over. 5 Pointz had been reduced to a ghost.

The once proud 5 Pointz, in the process of its scheduled demolition.

What made 5 Pointz Great? Out of chaos, it produced order. Out of many, it was one. The whole was more than the sum of its parts. In a landscape of post-industrial waste in the shadows of Midtown Manhattan, it was sublime beauty. It was pure New York City.

However, New York City giveth and taketh away. Abandoned industrial space morphed into hot, desirable real estate just a stone's throw from Grand Central. Sadly, it was only a matter of time an affordable artistic haven turned from project of beauty to an object of value.

Farewell indeed. But the end?

Across the street, a simple message.

Hardly. New York City has been down this road many times before. Baseball offers a parallel example.

The 1940s and '50s are often recognized as New York City Baseball's Golden Era. So many people listened to games on the radio that one could walk the streets of Brooklyn without missing a single pitch of games that featured the likes Jackie Robinson, Gil Hodges, and Duke Snider. Uptown, the New York Baseball Giants had the say hey kid, and litterlly just across the Harlem River, played the great Yogi Berra, Phil Rizzuto, and Mickey Mantle.

It wasn't just the pros--it was every kid on every street corner. Few New Yorkers had automobiles, and cars in most city streets were a rarity. Stickball was the rage, and even Willy Mays himself was known to play with neighborhood kids on occasion. Willy, Mickey and the Duke. A Golden Age indeed.

But nothing Gold can stay. After a feud with New York City Master Builder Robert Moses, Dodgers owner Walter O'Malley packed up and took his team to Los Angeles in 1958. The Giants left San Francisco that same year. In the blink of an eye, the era of Willy, Mickey and the Duke was down to just Mickey.

The Dodgers had left Brooklyn. The Giants had left New York. It was the end of an era.

Sept. 29, 1957, the New York Baseball Giants leave the Polo Grounds for the last time.

But it was not the end of New York City Baseball. Roger Maris hit an untainted 61 home runs in 1961, a record which may never be broken. The Amazin' Mets of Seaver and Koosman in '69. Mr. October's three home runs in three perfect swings in 1977. The Greatest Comeback ever in 1978. The greatest baseball team ever in 1998.


The miracle ball that confounded bill Buckner in  '86. The Strawman. The Sandman. Doc Gooden and HoJo. And who can ever forget John Rocker Size D battery night in 2000, forever known as the Piazza game?

I was at that game. It was a special kind of awesome. If you missed it, don't worry, it gets a brilliant recap in the Broadway Play, Take Me Out!

That's the bottom line. While the Bottom Line may no longer exist, New York still boasts a live music scene that would make other cities jealous. Music, baseball, art. No matter what, New Yorkers find a way to come out on top.

Street art in the Belmont section of the Bronx.

One era may end, but inevitably, the torch shall pass. Self-expression in New York City is the eternal flame, a burning ember of raw power. Artists may not have 5 Pointz anymore, but the days of SoHo as an artist haven are distant memory. Hedge fund managers and A-list celebrities may have priced out artists from lower Manhattan, but it was not the end. It's never the end.

Farewell, Five Pointz, but not goodbye.