It was the Trouser Press era, my reading companion up the NJ coastline.
The Transit train would creak and moan into Penn Station, a dash over to Astor Place for an Echo or Tears For Fears-inspired haircut, then the balance of the afternoon would be spent at Bleecker Bob’s willingly parting with any funds found from odd jobs and what have you. The records were that important.
Capital New York, whose mini documentary we’re sharing above, reports that Bleecker Bob’s is on the way out—priced out—by their landlord, noting the store “will stay open until the landlord has found a new tenant.”
Occupy Bleecker Bob’s, anyone?
