On a bright, sticky Thursday, the corner of 36th Street and 35th Avenue in Astoria is bustling as always, but there’s a new air of speculation whispering among locals. This week, Kaufman Astoria Studios — a pillar of film and television production since the early 1920s — traded hands for a crisp $255 million. The buyer, Vornado Realty Trust, already has dreams of mixing residential and production spaces like twisting celluloid into something new.

I catch up with Eddie, a security guard who’s manned the lot for over two decades. “Can you believe it?” he says, his Queens accent rounding the question into a statement. “I’ve seen the ghosts of old Hollywood walk these halls, and now they’re talking about apartments. This place used to be the whole world on film.”

Eddie’s talking about a time when the Astoria studios were the East Coast answer to Hollywood glitz, when starlets and directors roamed the halls. The Marx Brothers, Gloria Swanson, and Rudolph Valentino — when the silver screen was still silver, these were their stomping grounds.

But like any good New York story, the narrative here isn’t just about the past. Vornado’s plans speak to a broader truth about the city: it’s a place of perpetual reinvention. Astoria, a neighborhood straddling its Greek roots and modern hipster havens, has felt the pull of change before. Over the years, bakeries and gyro shops have made room for trendy cafes and craft beer bars. Now, it seems the studios are next.

“They’re saying they’re gonna build apartments,” Eddie grumbles, indicating with a nod the open lot where he suspects the cranes will roll in. “But who’s gonna live there? Those rent prices? Not folks like me, that’s for sure.”

The plan is to add residential units to the block, possibly overhauling the area’s skyline, a stone’s throw from where the N and W trains rumble overhead. In a city where real estate often means transformation, the film industry’s anchor in Astoria is bound to adapt too, but not everyone is on board with the sequels being written.

“Once, you’d get off the train and you’d smell souvlaki on every corner,” a voice chimes in. It’s Maria, who once ran a nearby bodega. “Now, it’s all avocado toast and frappes.” Maria’s family has been part of Astoria for over fifty years. She shakes her head, recalling the Saturday afternoons she’d spend watching productions spill out into the neighborhood, turning it into a living backdrop.

In recent years, films and series like “Orange Is the New Black” brought a steady stream of trucks and bright lights, a reminder of Astoria’s celluloid heart. The thought of apartments doesn’t excite Maria. “I’m not against change, but change that makes us strangers in our own homes… that’s tough.”

Yet, the evolution of Kaufman Astoria Studios isn’t just a story of lost culture; it’s about what’s next. With change, New York finds ways to surprise. Vornado’s plans might bring new energy, more foot traffic to local diners and shops, and new stories to be filmed and told.

As I walk back toward the subway, squeezed between blue sky and apartment blocks, the last word is Eddie’s. “You know, there’s a scene in a movie we did here years ago, where they say ‘New York’s a city like any other, only more so.’ I think about that. More so.”

The Q train roars above, vibrating the street. Kaufman Astoria Studios, a century-old pillar, stands poised to become something new — the city, always more so. Amidst the change, Astoria remains Astoria, with its street corners, its voices, its ever-evolving skyline.

— Frank Donovan · Columnist

Editorial Transparency. A first draft of this story was produced with AI-assisted writing tools, then reviewed for accuracy and tone by the named editor before publication. More on our process: Editorial Policy.