MOSAIC
NOVEMBER 26, 2018
WWW.UDREVIEW.COM
THE REVIEW
The state of East Main Street: Getting together to remember an East Main Street now far gone OLIVIA MANN Managing Mosaic Editor
The façade of Cheeburger Cheeburger on the corner of East Main Street and Haines Street has transcended time and identities. The 1950s-style burger restaurant chain’s façade, built in 1953, was first home to the Hollywood Diner. Then, Jude’s Diner. Then, Jimmy’s Diner. Then, Newark Diner. Then, Korner Diner. And now, Cheeburger Cheeburger. In 1984, Jimmy’s Diner was granted a liquor license by the Delaware Alcohol Beverage Commission. You could enjoy breakfast and a beer. According to the attendees of “Newark in the 1980s: An evening of reminiscing,” favorites included chicken dumplings, corned beef and cabbage and “Friday night meatloaf” — and it wasn’t very good, but you got a lot of it. On Nov. 14, Jim Jones, a retired professor of African history at West Chester University, exhibited neverbefore-seen photographs he took of East Main Street in the early to mid-1980s at the Newark Senior Center. “Newark in the 1980s: An evening of reminiscing” was hosted by the Newark Historical Society. “I didn’t take a picture of every building on the street [East Main Street], but I took enough pictures that I can pretty much walk you down the street and back up again,” Jones says. “Part of how I got to know Newark well … was working as a bus driver around here … at that point I didn’t even know how to drive a stick shift, so of course the first thing they [Stiltz Bus Line] give me is a school bus with a bunch of children on it and stick shift.
I got good at it after the first two intersections.” The exhibition attracted a crowd, almost all of whom spent the evening reminiscing about a now far-gone East Main Street much different than today’s East Main Street, which boasts four burrito spots, three coffee shops and two make-your-own pizza places. But in the glow of Courtesy ofJim Jones nostalgia, the ordinary becomes Throughout the evening, the Newark extraordinary. Farm and Home Supply seemed to In the late-1980s, the carry an air of legacy. Newark Farm and Home Supply closed after nearly 40 years of business on East Main Street. The mid1990s laid witness to the redevelopment of the old Newark Farm and Home Supply into a site for street-level, commercial fronts and upper-floor, luxury apartments — today’s Washington House Condominiums. Fred Williamson, born and raised in Newark, Courtesy ofJim Jones fondly remembered the In 2006, Happy Harry’s became just Newark Farm and Home Supply. another vestige of a time left in the past. “The floor slanted, didn’t it?” Williamson says. “The floor slanted when you went in.” Other attendees of “Newark in the 1980s: An evening of reminiscing” remembered purchasing tiny little screws for six cents and after “looking everywhere on Earth” finding radiator keys at only the Newark Farm and Home Supply. “They had everything and anything,” Williamson says. Courtesy ofJim Jones Another historic gem The Deluxe Luncheonette was built in retained from decades past is 1928. the old Stone Balloon Tavern
and Concert Hall — even if it’s just in the name. “There was a choice,” Jones says. “You could be a Stone Ballooner, you could of course, not go out to bars, that was a third option, not that anybody ever did that, but the choices were either you were a Stone Balloon person, or you were a Deer Park person.” The property was transformed from Merrill’s Tavern into the Stone Balloon Tavern and Concert Hall. The Stone Balloon Tavern and Concert Hall went on to be demolished in 2006 to clear the way for — you guessed it — the Washington House Condominiums. In 2006, Happy Harry’s, which operated in Delaware, Pennsylvania, Maryland and New Jersey, transformed into Walgreens. Gail Chickersky, longtime Newark resident, spoke about how Happy Harry’s blatantly disregarded fair-trade laws, statutes implemented for price maintenance. “When Happy Harry’s came to town, this was his [Harry Levin’s] very second store, and they really didn’t have a whole lot of money to put into inventory, so there was lots of sanitary products and diapers that filled the store,” Chickersky says. “They were known for pursuing people who shoplifted. The first store on Main Street that really pursued shoplifting. They were also the only store in town that went against what were at the time fair-trade laws, where there were some things that you would price the same in every store no matter
what … like Revlon Lipstick.” Other East Main Street staples included the Deluxe Luncheonette, which was lovingly known as “The Greasy Spoon” or “The Spoon” and compared to a Paris cafe in the 1920s in a 1984 New York Times article, Rhodes’ Drugstore, which was where Newark Deli and Bagels now stands, and Eagle Furniture. “I haven’t been in it since it became Starbucks, and I wasn’t in it when it was Eagle Furniture,” Jones says. “I kind of found all my furniture on the sidewalk.” Brent Thompson, who graduated from the university with a bachelor’s degree in nursing in 1980 and in 1982 with a master’s degree in nursing, remembered — not so fondly — Skid Row. “I was shocked that people paid rent to live there,” Thompson says. (Trust me, we’re still shocked.) Other attendees of “Newark in the 1980s: An evening of reminiscing” were dedicated to East Main Street beyond just being a university alum or longtime Newark resident. One of the photographs Jones showed the crowd depicted a fire on East Main Street that took place in November 1983. Dennis Cataldi, a then-member, and now life member, of Aetna Hose Hook & Ladder Company, remembered being on the ladder that same night. “It’s really not about me,” Jones says. “It’s about Newark here.”
Album review: Lil Peep’s “Come Over When You’re Sober, Pt. 2” paints a portrait of a tortured artist struggling to recognize his own potential EDWARD BENNER Staff Columnist The rise of SoundCloud in the early 2010s created a cultural phenomenon that has radically altered popular conceptions of stardom, independent music and the DIY ethos, especially within the hiphop genre. Aspiring musicians, regardless of location or level of talent, have a free platform to expose millions to their art and can exist completely outside of the industry, allowing them an unprecedented amount of freedom and power. For Gustav Ahr, better known by his rap moniker Lil Peep, this ability to create on his own terms led him to become one of the most influential artists emerging out of this decade. Releasing three mixtapes in two years, culminating in “Come Over When You’re Sober, Pt. 1” from 2017, Peep cemented
himself as an innovator and primary force in creating a new genre of hip-hop that mixes rap beats with emo rock samples and lyricism. In a tragic overdose of fentanyl and Xanax, Lil Peep was taken from the world too soon at age 21 on Nov. 15, 2017, undeniably leaving his mark on the music industry and causing many to wonder what else he could have delivered had he lived longer. His creativity, ear for samples, lyrical honesty and knack for melody made him an icon and a voice of a generation of outsiders. Realizing the importance of Lil Peep to his fanbase, Peep’s mother and creative partners released the posthumous “Come Over When You’re Sober, Pt. 2,” deciding that his message needed to be heard. The hope was for this project to serve as a breathing testament to his art and show the intense passion
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and care he put into his craft up until the end. The opening track, “Broken Smile (My All),” illustrates why those important to Lil Peep made the decision to bring these songs to the public. This ominous track, driven by steel drums and a piano/synth build over a finger-picked reverb guitar and trap beat, delivers a powerful rumination of love, loss and heartbreak. A large part of Peep’s appeal to youth especially was his frankness in talking about personal struggles with mental health and substance abuse, difficult topics that unfortunately were at the forefront of his life. His pain and message of resilient solidarity inspired, comforted and saved his listeners. Lyrics like, “Why the f--- do everybody act like they care? / I was dying and nobody was there,” from the song “Runaway,”
THANKFUL, NEXT
are particularly gut-wrenching considering Peep’s background and how closely death loomed while he recorded these songs. “Runaway” is a good summation of Peep’s attitudes near the end, as he admits to using drug abuse as a dangerous escape, seeking some sort of satisfaction in a girl that he knew would never exist outside of his dreams and viewing people from a particularly “Holden Caulfieldesque” lens of phoniness. The vicious cycle of feeling alone and turning to drug abuse only to experience further alienation is a repeated thematic motif throughout “Come Over When You’re Sober, Pt. 2.” This awareness of his self-destruction on songs like “Leanin’,”“IDGAF” and “16 Lines” make the album a particularly harrowing yet cathartic listen. His distorted vocals paired with the somber instrumentals embody the sound of depression but also
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the beauty of Peep’s creative mind, showcasing his immense potential. The song “Fingers” is evidence that Lil Peep both recognized the dangerously thin line he was walking with his reckless lifestyle and was accepting of his own inevitable mortality. He sings, “I’m not gonna last here / I’m not gonna last long” in the track’s outro. Nothing changes how sad it is that Peep predicted his own premature demise, but he still lives on through his art that continues to give a voice to those who need it most. His influence has overtaken the mainstream and spawned countless copycats, establishing him among the ranks of talents lost too soon. R.I.P. Lil Peep.
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