It’s Saturday morning, and as I walk down 35th Avenue, the sound of construction fills the air like a mechanical symphony. The Kaufman Astoria Studios site, once bustling with the magic of filmmaking, now stands ready for its next act: a towering 28-story mixed-use building approved just last month by the City Planning Commission.
I meet Joe, a third-generation Astorian, standing on the corner of 36th Street, coffee cup in hand, observing the scene with a mix of nostalgia and resignation. His family has lived in this neighborhood for over 70 years. ‘My grandfather used to work in the studio back when they filmed the old black-and-white flicks,’ Joe says, his voice tinged with pride. ‘Now, I guess it’s time for something new.’
Astoria has seen its fair share of change over the decades. From the influx of Greek immigrants in the 1960s to the recent wave of young professionals and artists, the neighborhood has always been a cultures and eras. Joe remembers the old diners that used to line these streets, the places where his parents would take him for a milkshake after a day at school. ‘Gone, all gone,’ he chuckles. ‘But that’s Astoria for you โ always moving, always changing.’
As I chat with Joe, trucks rumble by, hauling away the remnants of what was once the Kaufman legacy, making way for 372 new apartments and retail spaces. The project promises to inject new life into the area, attracting a different crowd, perhaps those drawn by the allure of modern amenities and the promise of a storied address. ‘It’s like a fresh coat of paint,’ Joe says, ‘but you always wonder what’s being covered up.’
A couple of blocks down, a little Greek bakery still holds its ground. Inside, Yiannis, the owner, speaks frankly about the changes. ‘Back in the day, this was the heart of the Greek community,’ he says, gesturing to the ornate murals that adorn the walls. ‘Now, with these new buildings, it’s like we’re being pushed to the edges.’
I ask him about the future, and he shrugs, a wry smile on his lips. ‘People will come for the new tower, sure,’ Yiannis admits. ‘But they’ll stay for the soul of the place. Astoria has a way of keeping its charm, no matter how many glass-and-steel buildings they put up.’
A few doors down, a family of four emerges from a small grocery store, bags in hand. Maria, the mother, tells me she moved here from Manhattan last year, drawn by the community and the schools. ‘We worried about losing that small-town feel,’ she admits. ‘But Astoria has a magic of its own. It’s like living in the middle of a neighborhood and a city at the same time.’
As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows on the streets, I stand at the intersection of 35th Avenue and 36th Street once more. The skeletal frame of what will soon be a towering structure looms overhead, a testament to Astoria’s ongoing dance between past and future.
In the coming months, the landscape of this neighborhood will transform yet again, as it has for decades. And while some will mourn the end of an era, others will find hope and possibility in the promise of what’s to come. Joe finishes his coffee, nods at me, and starts walking towards home. ‘See you around,’ he calls back, a familiar phrase in a constantly unfamiliar city.
The streetlights flicker on, illuminating the quiet resilience of Astoria. Tomorrow, another day of construction, conversations, and the ever-present hum of a city that never stops evolving. But for now, the night belongs to the old stories and the new dreams, woven together in the heart of 35th Avenue.
โ Frank Donovan ยท Columnist
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