Passion and Vision: The Real Building Blocks of Revitalization

Yesterday's Frozen Tropics blog has a great photo of the Sun and Moon convenience store at the SW corner of 14th and H Streets NE. The building is undermaintained and appears to be what some people describe as "blighted."

Photo by Elise Bernard. (Note the sideyard perfect for an outdoor patio--although there is an awful lot of traffic at that location so it might not work--too noisy.)

One of these days I am going to write an article about what I call the "language of revitalization," because "blight" really is about "disinvestment". Too often the word is used to justify demolition when really the issue is one of investment, maintenance, and opportunity. BTW, it is likely that the Sun and Moon is now one of the oldest buildings extant on the corridor given the more recent (from 1999-2004)demolition of a number of the oldest buildings (BP Site, south side of the 300 block, the Beuchert Tavern buildings at 721-727). Likely the building was constructed in the 1870s, judging by the style of the building's Italianate cornice.

Main Street Port Huron has a sign that they put on empty buildings that says "This building isn't empty, it's full of opportunity." I am going to try to dig up a photo of that sign.

Here's a photo of a diner in the Red Hook neighborhood of Brooklyn. It doesn't look much different from Sun and Moon on the outside, except that it doesn't have boarded up windows, and it's one story taller.

Photos from Newsday.

Here's a photo of the interior.



I sure would love to have the option of eating in a restaurant like this on H Street. Here's a bit from an article about the Hope and Anchor Diner:

"On weekends my family crammed into comfortable, vinyl-covered booths, chose three selections for a quarter on the jukebox and ate big breakfasts: scrambled eggs, home fries, two lavishly buttered slices of "whisky down" (toasted rye bread), and enough coffee to keep us awake until Monday morning.

When my mother didn't feel like cooking, we knew where to find a good, cheap supper - soup or salad, an entree, chocolate pudding or Jell-O with whipped cream and milk - all for around $7.50.

I talked to girlfriends for hours over cheesecake and coffee in diners, fell in love in diners and was dumped in diners, too.

Which is why, after friends on the culinary grapevine called me with positive reviews, I cabbed it over to Hope & Anchor, a new Red Hook diner that opened in June.

Red Hook has the kind of down-on-its-heels but up-and-coming feeling that Williamsburg had 10 years ago. It desperately needs places to eat and drink cheaply and well. Hope & Anchor (the name is the state motto of Rhode Island, where co-owner Gary Rego grew up), fits the bill. Dubbed "a new American diner," it is as much a diner as it is a friendly neighborhood bar and restaurant serving inexpensive yet comfortably sophisticated food. As you'd expect, the diner is already popular with its neighbors. Chef and co-owner Dianna Munz, formerly of Panino'teca 275 on Smith Street, has created a menu of dishes that reflect American cooking of yesterday with newer multicultural selections.

The room has a comfortably upscale spin. There's a bar with a few locals enjoying after-work drinks on one side, as well as chrome diner tables and chairs, and, of course, banquettes - here they're covered in glittery red vinyl. The walls are painted a deep red with a mirror running the length of the room. The feeling is "sit, eat and enjoy."

Like any self-respecting diner, Hope & Anchor serves breakfast all day. Standard diner selections include eggs served any style, omelets, pancakes, and hot and cold cereals. Side orders are diner mainstays with a spin: along with scrapple (a Pennsylvania Dutch dish of boneless pork and cornmeal which is sliced and fried), French fries and toast, there's a chorizo sausage hash. All manner of classic diner sandwiches have a place on Munz's menu: you'll find a BLT (bacon, lettuce and tomato on a choice of white, wheat or rye bread); a double-decker grilled cheese and tomato; a turkey, ham, Swiss and bacon club; and the one sandwich that no diner can be without, the tuna melt."

The only limit is our imagination.
Painting by Wayne Thiebaud.