TIME TRAVEL. My Fourth Apartment
I have done a series on my various apartments when I was a wee thing. These generated a lot of comments so, after much delay and ado, I present…drum roll, please…another installment!
A TIMELINE
February, 1975: I turn 18.
Fall, 1975: I moved out of the family home and into my first apartment.
Early 1976: I move into my second apartment.
Fall 1976: Unable to pay the rent, I moved back home. My “third” apartment.
My mother turned 40 in 1976. My friends came by to celebrate. Me, right, still wearing my Tiki Gardens uniform. Eddie is next to me. He, sadly, died several decades ago. Mom. Unknown cat. Ron. He’s still around! Lou (left). I have no idea what became of Lou.
September 1977: Moved into my fourth apartment at 867 18th Ave North, presented in this post.
Two things motivated moving into my new apartment, #4 in a span of two years.
One thing was that I was not getting along with my mother and wanted to be free of the fighting. I have no memory of this but my diary details my frustration.
Sex was the other thing. Or the lack thereof. Obviously, I could not bring anybody home to my room. Once, feeling quite desperate (ahhh, young hormones), I reached out to my friend Daryl. He was always open to a good time, but he, too, lived with his parents. So, what to do? My solution was to rent a room…
…at the Flamingo Motel, 2831 4th St. North. The neon sign was the attraction. I rented a room in the wing to the right.
I arrived before Daryl, and came with flowers, my stereo system, records, white wine, an ice bucket, and wine glasses. Daryl was amused.
This though proved exhausting and expensive, and I knew I needed another solution. Hence, apartment #4.
[The Flamingo Hotel managed to survive until 2022, when it was demolished. While writing this post I tracked down Daryl. Amazingly, he is still around and lives in Cleveland!]
867 18th Ave North. In 2023 it sold for $862K. This would have been unimaginable in 1977, when it was valued at $25K. It is now a one-family house, but in 1977 it had long been converted to a two-family, one apartment per floor. I rented the first-floor.
I have a vague memory that my friend Ron (see image at top) actually found the apartment, planned to move in, and invited me to see it. Then I grew excited about maybe moving in, too. It had one bedroom (front) and another bedroom (rear) but one had to walk through the rear bedroom to get to the kitchen and bathroom.This would be my room, and I figured I could somehow create privacy.
I was besotted with the apartment but, looking back, cannot imagine why. There was nothing distinctive about it. And the rent was…I think…$150 a month, which I could not afford even half of. Ron had the front bedroom but my diary and memory reveals that he never moved in. He did bring in boxes of stuff, painted the room, and installed a ceiling light (missing a shade). At the time, of course, I had no idea…
…that Ron’s fixture was called a slip-shade Batwing chandelier. I wonder, did he ever find a shade?
Although Ron never moved in, did he pay rent during these uncertain months? I do not recall but as I do not complain in my diary I assume he must have. On January, 1 1978, my friend Doug Lucas replaced Ron. But…curiously, Doug moved out at the end of February. He said he could not afford the rent of $75. My memory recalls him being there for longer than two months but my diary confirms the short tenure. Doug was a lovely man but I never saw him again. This makes me sad.
Thus, I struggled to pay the full $150 a month. I have no idea how I did his. I was working as a waiter at Tiki Gardens, but often only made like $10 in tips a night. While this adds up to like $200 a month, and I often made more than $10 a night, I guess that is how I paid the rent. I do endlessly complain in my diary about being broke.
For me, at the time, I think my wanting the apartment so bad was my overarching desire to decorate it. This burned in me. I ached to creatively express myself through decor. Some of you will nod your head in understanding.
Although I had the apartment for less than a year, my lust for decorating means I decorated the apartment twice during the less than year I occupied it.
Iteration #1 was orange walls with thin pieces of wood on a diagonal, a look I created for my “third” apartment.
The bedroom to the left was Ron’s. The right bedroom was mine. It had originally been the kitchen but when the house was converted into apartments the kitchen was moved to the rear porch. The dotted lines represent walls I built to create privacy. Seven rooms I could decorate. Seven!!!!!!!!!! I was breathless with excitement!
TODAY. Sunporch, looking north.
TODAY. Sunporch. Looking mostly west.
TODAY. Living room, looking at north window. Note the painted brick fireplace and north window (center). Flat screen TVs were unimanageable in 1977.
1977 Iteration. This was, I think, my 21st birthday party. You can see the white painted brick fireplace. That is Harry, a fellow waiter at Tiki Gardens, and his wife. Note crystal chandelier from my “third” apartment.
Harry again. The north window with drapery from the Vinoy Park Hotel. I used the drapery in all my apartments. I adored the drapery. It even moved with me to NYC. My friend Susan Hedgpeth is to the far left. She recently reached out to me!
Same north window. Susan, again, with the birthday boy. I have no idea who the others are. Note the hanging pictures, left. This is where I first had them.
TODAY. This was Ron’s bedroom. Looking south. Sunporch is right. In 1977 there was no stair spilling into the room, so it was exciting to see this image. In 1977 the stair had been converted into a straight run down, and an entry door has been created on the side of the house. This was the only room I never decorated. After Doug moved out I used the room for storage.
TODAY. Ron’s room looking to living room. Note the white painted brick mantle. The door (center) was not there in 1977. It is curious that the room clearly was intended as an entry even though the front door is over to the north.
TODAY. Living room. The sofa is sitting in front of what was, in 1977, the actual front door. The door has since been converted into a window. The sunporch can be seen through the center opening. Ron’s bedroom is to the left.
TODAY. Dining room. North wall. far left. The south wall between the room and the original kitchen has been removed.
TODAY. This was my bedroom in 1977 but was the original kitchen. Now reinstated, obviously.
TODAY. This was the kitchen in 1977. I hated it and do not recall ever cooking in it. It had a very low flat ceiling. I ripped it out one day, and it amuses me that my intervention is extant today.
Then, in the spring of 1978, when I was 21-years-old, I went to New York City for the first time. My first plane trip, too. Would the city overwhelm me, or embrace me? This is what I needed to be answered. The answer was the latter; I felt at home.
Returning to Florida, I became a man with a mission. My every move was dedicated to moving to New York, and with a single goal: To get a job with the famous interior designer Angelo Donghia.
This goal was…ridiculous, absurd, and delusional. Why would a world famous designer hire…me? I had no experience, no schooling, and was the son of a carpenter. However, my one chance…or so I convinced myself…was that I had great talent and if I could just meet Donghia, and show him my work, he would surely recognize this talent and my obvious liabilities would no long matter, right? Right?
The operative words though were: show him my work.
But, what work?
Thus, I devised a cunning plan: I would redo my apartment in a more New York-ish, Donghia-ish manner. You know, more sophisticated. Then hire professional photographers, put this dazzling work into a portfolio, somehow get an interview with the great man, and get a job.
So, easy-peasy, right?
And while nobody reading this will believe me, this is what actually happened. Really. I am serious. Of course, it all proved way more complicated than I would ever have thought possible, and way way way more painful, but the outline of my cunning plan did unfold as I had foreseen.
ITERATION #2:
1978. Sunporch. I have no images nor memory of how I first decorated the sunporch. But in 1978 I went all out with some Donghia favorites. I used the door as the front door. Note the pair of pictures, right. I had them hanging from wires. Clever! All of this was for show as I never used the room.
1978. Supporch, looking south. The opening far left went into Ron’s room. Note how the picture is hanging from three bamboo poles. I found the table and chairs at a Salvation Army store for almost nothing as it was missing its top. The glass top cost me though. I had it made in three pieces so, if I broke a piece, the repair would only cost me 1/3. Later, I moved the table to NYC and sold it.
1977. Again, the north window in the Living Room.
1978. North window. The change is dramatic. I knew Donghia had become enamored with charcoal. And he loved the dramatic gesture. The sofa was from my first apartment and its back was still held up by bricks in this image. All the white fabric was Halston sheets, which I found on sale discounted like 90%. I snapped up every sheet I could. The pillows are wrapped in sheets and duct-taped together on the back! The imposing pedestal is just 2x4s, a plywood top/bottom, wrapped in a sheet and stapled on the back. The curtains are more sheets with their hemmed edge inserted into a cheap curtain rod.
TODAY, again. Living room. The original front door is to the right.
1978, moving to the left. The front door. The 1930s radio worked! It would move to NYC with me and I gave it away in like 1985, and to my favorite carpenter, Robin. He then moved to Seattle. Is the radio extant?
1978. The doors open to the sunporch. The entry to what was Ron’s room is covered into more Halston sheets (far left). The 1930s Chrome sconces were from my first apartment and were just tacked onto the door trim here. I never did attach them to, you know, actual wiring. The imposing concrete head (which I adored) was sitting on another 2×4 base covered in, yep, a Halston sheet. I had the head till 1996 when I sold it after losing everything and then wandering America looking for a place to live. The chairs, rug, coffee table, sconces, and sofa were all left in my parent’s garage when I moved to NYC. My dad, quite sensibly wanting his garage back, later took all my treasures to the dump.
1978. In what had been my 1977 dining room. In the 2nd Iteration it was changed it into my bedroom. This was only possible because I no longer had a roommate. While I had hoped to impress Donghia with my Donghia-esqe living room decor, I wanted him to understand that I was versatile and could also do High Drama. Thus, I made three 2×4 frames and hanged my beloved Vinoy drapes in them, backed with bamboo blinds and all backlighted. They fronted the double north window which allowed nary a beam of light in (something I would never do today). You will recognize all the fittings from my “third” apartment, but given more breathing room here.
1978. Opposite the bed. To the left is the no longer extant south wall. Again, you will recognize all the fittings from my “third” apartment, but given more breathing room here. Note that I moved the pair of slipper chairs (a Donghia favorite) into the photograph. The fabulous armoire came to NY where I sold it, along with the floor lamp, and chandelier (barely visible) from the incomparable Pompeii Dining Room of the Vinoy. I have always regretted selling the chandelier. The huge wall sconce is from the lobby of the Vinoy and I still have it. Squee! Note also the hammer I left on the bed.
TODAY, again. Note the small, high windows.
1978. This had been my 1977 bedroom. But, for the Donghia redo, I created this. I thought Donghia would appreciate the high drama. The floor tiles were not even glued down. I never once used the room as such. The two chairs had been my grandmother’s. I ruthlessly painted them white. I must have been allergic to daylight because here I have totally covered over the windows. Huh? The crystal chandelier had been in the living room during Iteration #1. It eventually ended up in my parent’s living room. They sold the house in 2016 and it was torn down. I do not know the fate of the chandelier. All my other furnishings were discarded by my father.
1978. Me, and again, Susan. You can see the ceiling joists I exposed, which looked into the “attic”. It is obvious from the TODAY image that the ceiling joist were later removed and the ceiling brought up to the bottom of the roof joists.The cheap pans amuse me. I would have only warmed cans of soup in them. I have no memory of the woman to the left, and right. Note the round, red-rimmed plate next to Susan….
…that is also from the Vinoy. Amazingly, I have the plate today but cannot explain how it survived when almost everything else in these images was lost over time. It is incredibly beautiful.
Soon after redecorating and getting the apartment photographed, but unable to pay the rent, I moved out and back to my parent’s house.
[This sentence amuses me: “Soon after redecorating and getting the apartment photographed, but unable to pay the rent…” Gee, could there have been a causation relationship between the former and the latter?]
Mid-September 1978: My time back at home was brief, as I soon moved to New York City. I was 21.
What stuns me in looking at this timeline is: If I repeatedly could not pay rent in St. Petersburg, Florida, how in the world did I imagine I could pay rent in New York City??????????????
Looking back, the answer is:
Young.
Foolish.
3 Comments
Leave a Comment
Your email address will NEVER be made public or shared, and you may use a screen name if you wish.
This account is fascinating and touching. The things one didn’t keep, but should have. The things that, thank God, one no longer has. I love the Flamingo Hotel—the name and the look.
Damn–what a narrative. It seems rather familiar, though your story is better, and better-documented, than mine. Well, and your stuff was better, too, and you were more ambitious than I was.
On second thought, it doesn’t sound as familiar as I thought it did. Never mind.
What an adventurer you were! Other than living in London for five months in 1983 (my last semester of college), I haven’t done much in my life that’s adventurous. I admire you for moving to NYC with a plan (however deluded it might have seemed to anyone else) and a dream. Good on you for making it a reality.