New York's Other Park Avenue

It was then--it is now no more.

El Rancho Restaurant. Formerly New York Savings Bank. Formerly Bronx Savings Bank.

It's a massive stone marble structure that dwarfs the walkups and townhomes in the neighborhood. It's Greek Columns and artistic facade almost look as if they were built yesterday; the sparkling marble reflects the sunlight and brightens the sidewalk and street. Constructed at the height of the Great Depression, the message of this building is clear: Your money is safe with us.

Bronx Savings Bank, 2014.

And yet there is no money, no bank. Only garbage and broken glass.

This relic of a vaunted financial institution stands at the intersection of East Tremont and Park Avenue. That's right. Park Avenue. From the other side of the Harlem River stretching all the way to Fordham Road in the Bronx lies New York City's other Park Avenue. 429 East Tremont Avenue is perhaps the most spectacular structure in this 3.5 mile stretch of road.

Bronx Savings Bank, circa 1945.

When Nicole and I took our epic bike trip through the backwoods of Virginia and North Carolina, we saw more than one boarded up, abandoned, stately mansion. We wondered who lived there, and how it was that something built with such care, precision, and foresight could be left to waste away.

After decades of neglect, signs of wear and tear.

But when we saw this bank in East Tremont, there was little mystery. The neighborhood's decline has been well documented. In the 1940s and early '50s, East Tremont was a haven of lower middle-class Jews who could escape the poverty of the Bowery Slums. They have moved up in the world, literally and figuratively. Some still worked in Manhattan, others quickly found jobs in their new neighborhood. Some worked at the department store, the deli, and yes, the neighborhood savings bank. That all changed when New York City's Master Builder, Robert Moses, decided to route a major highway right through the heart of the neighborhood.

Typical East Tremont apartments. The cast-iron facades are painted give an appearance of affluence.

By Robert Moses's own figures, a single mile of the Cross-Bronx Expressway through East Tremont would necessitate  the outright destruction of 1,530 apartments of which contained 5,000 residents (some say the figure was higher). As people were forced out of their homes, the abandoned apartment buildings quickly became a target for thieves and vandals before finally succumbing to the wrecking ball. Many who weren't forced to leave hated and feared what their neighborhood had become, and simply chose to leave. As if this wasn't enough, East Tremont was delivered a final, fatal blow in the 1970s when mayor Abe Beame ordered the demolition of the 3rd Avenue El, severing subway access to and from the neighborhood. The bank ceased operation a few years later.

Vicente Medina surveys El Rancho, shortly before its grand opening in 2004.

And yet, incredibly, this was not the end for 429 East Tremont. In 2004, a Mexican immigrant by the name of Vicente Medina chose the former bank as the location for El Rancho restaurant. "I'll serve steaks and seafood," Medina said in the Sept. 21st, 2004 issue of the New York Times. "It will be like City Island."

City Island is a fairly prosperous neighborhood. East Tremont is not. El Rancho is no more. The artwork from restaurant is peeling, its gaudy, diner-style shiny, glass-covered everything is falling to pieces, and water damage is eating away at the ceiling. It's over for El Rancho.

Glitter and broken dreams are all the remains of El Rancho Restaurante.

Will this be the end for 429? Let's hope not. May another dreamer like Medina--or perhaps even Medina himself--have more success next time. Call me crazy, but if we can't so much as dream, what can we do?

What does the future hold?