Sergio Ureña, behind the counter of his Tribeca Deli that he opened in 1993 after working as a guard in the Independence Plaza apartment complex. “I serve coffee from the heart,” he said. Photo: Carl Glassman/Tribeca Trib
Sergio Ureña stood behind the counter of what remained of his Tribeca Deli, the popular Greenwich Street hub for coffee, quick eats and neighborly conversation. Nearby, workers dismantled shelves and boxed and carted away stock from what, for 21 years, was a mainstay of the Independence Plaza apartment complex at 3681/2 Greenwich St.
.jpg "Alan Howard, a longtime Independence Plaza tenant, was one of many people in the neighborhood who stopped to peer through the window of the closed Tribeca Deli as workers dismantled the store. Photo: Carl Glassman/Tribeca Trib")
Old customers peered mournfully through the window, waved to Ureña or blew a kiss. Some, like Tony Mitchelson, came in to give the owner a goodbye hug.
“I’m so sorry,” said Mitchelson, who has known Ureña for as far back as 1980, when he began as a security guard in the three-tower complex. “Let me know if I should be looking around for another place for you, Serge, because the neighborhood needs you.”
The neighborhood might, but not Stellar Management and Vornado Real Estate Trust, the owners of Independence Plaza. The deli’s Greenwich Street neighbors to the north, a nail salon, cleaners, Japanese restaurant and a café, have gone dark. Tribeca Pizzeria, near the corner of North Moore Street, is expected to be out in the next few months.
“The rent in this neighborhood is so out of reach to support a business of this kind,” Ureña said.
Once the pizzeria is gone, only a single business, a Duane Reade that had replaced a small pharmacy, will be left among Independence Plaza’s two blocks of storefronts between North Moore and Harrison streets.
“It’s stripping us of what’s familiar,” said Diane Lapson, president of the Independence Plaza Tenants Association. “The tenants who speak to me about this, they’re all kind of in shock. Like how can it be that our stores are just vanishing, and what’s going in their place?”
Though he had more than two years left on his lease, Ureña said he knew the end was at hand when the owners would not grant him permission to carry out store renovations he had proposed. Then came what he said were attempts to evict him, with claims that he needed to fix parts of his store, like a fryer and exhaust unit, that he insisted didn’t need to be fixed and were up to code.
“Everything was legal but they were making that it was illegal,” Ureña said. “We couldn’t take the harassment, honestly.”
Eventually, the owner said, he agreed to accept a buyout of his remaining lease term.
“Claims made by the owner of Tribeca Deli are false and unwarranted,” a spokeswoman for Stellar Management said in a statement. “The owner opted for an early lease termination.”
Sadness and anger over the loss of the deli is compounded by the impending closing of Tribeca Pizzeria after 20 years. Steve, the owner (he asked that his last name not be used) said his rent would have jumped from $15,000 a month to more than $60,000, or $350 a square foot.
Like the pizzeria, the “majority” of the vacancies are the result of expired leases, according to Stellar Management, who did not respond to questions about the owners’ intentions for the vacant spaces and the kinds of businesses they believe can pay such rents.
On Jan. 28, the day the deli closed, regulars stopped by, some thinking they could still pick up a coffee or a fast sandwich.
Edith Hamilton, a 34-year Tribeca resident, peered through the window, watching the deli employees begin the job of packing up. Recognizing her, one of them opened the door.
“Today is your last day?” Hamilton asked in disbelief.
“Last day!” the worker said.
Others gathered around. One of them was 12-year-old Gus Duclos. “They can’t just do that!” the boy exclaimed.
“[It’s] a small deli that you can run into when you need something,” Hamilton said, turning to a reporter. “If you want to go for something quick, where are you gonna go? It was just a nice little neighborhood place. And I knew everybody. You’re going to lose all that.”
“We are family,” Ureña said. “The people who have been in this area for so many years, they feel so comfortable to come here. I make them a cup of coffee from my heart.”
“So now they feel lost,” he added. “Now everything’s changed.”