As I looked at the boarded-up front of the club now, four years later, I wasn’t surprised nothing had replaced it. An economic downturn had decimated the East Village with shuttered stores, boarded up fronts, broken windows, and rusting, ramshackle metal fire escapes dangling at various levels above the streets. Squatters who commonly referred to themselves as “artists” inhabited many of the abandoned apartments.
I turned back on St. Marks Place toward 2nd Avenue, made a right for two blocks to 6th Street, and then made a left east toward Avenue A. When I crossed 2nd Avenue, I could see the Fillmore East Theater, where the popular bands du jour had just a few years before played to sold-out crowds. Now its marquee had gashes in its white porcelain display and plastic sheeting on its top l
