Passing by a Christmas tree in Chelsea

By Timothy Gay

Dear Nouvelle Chelsea Dwellers in your lofts and condos: Let me tell you a story about Chelsea of yore, years after Clement Clark Moore and a long time before there was even one Starbucks.

Once upon a time, every December, an enchanted forest would magically appear along Eighth Avenue between 19th and 20th Streets, whose sidewalk would be transformed into a narrow pathway lined with evergreens and pines, in all sizes and shapes.

Large trees and small ones; wreathes and garlands; magnificent blue spruces and Charlie Brown specials, bright red holly and spray-painted pine cones, all lined up and in front of the A&P, covering the windows and the advertisements for ground chuck for 89 cents per pound.

A canopy of white lights would illuminate the trees and the cheery blondes with the rosy checks, all bustled up in their down coats, mukluks and faux fur hats. Young men in jackets way too light were joined by their fathers in Santa hats and real Yukon weather wear, not the stuff from the L.L.Bean catalog. These tribal families came to Chelsea at Yule time, selling their trees round the clock. They lived a camper with Quebec plates which, for reasons no one questioned, never received a parking ticket.

On the pathway, people had to stop to let each other by. But unlike any other time in New York, no one minded. People actually gave way, saying things like “After you,” or “No, please you go first” as they stepped sideways and nestled, even momentarily, in the fragrant branches.

And the aroma of the season! Even if you were in a hurry and walked around beside the parked cars on Eighth Avenue, you could still smell the trees.

The later in the season it got, the more reasonable the prices. And, depending on the individual, the couple or the family, special considerations were always made based on one’s current financial situation.

But that day disappeared with the A&P, Cajun Restaurant, the Spanish-Chinese restaurants and the Army-Navy Store on Eighth Avenue.

I drove around Chelsea the other night, just to see what tree sellers are still out there.

Where was the abominable inflatable 15-foot-tall smiling Santa that used to loom over 22nd and Ninth?

The Santa belongs Tom Gilmartin. He lives in Alaska and has sold trees on Ninth Avenue for a decade. Each year, Tom and his family make the transcontinental journey from Alaska to the Rite Aid at Ninth and 22nd.

But not this year. There’s a curbed-in bike lane along the east side of Ninth Avenue. So, the inflatable Santa and the trees are in front of the General Theological Seminary at 20th and Ninth. It’s two blocks downtown, but it might as well be a world away.

“Traffic-flow business is off 99 percent,” Tom said on Tuesday after braving the Nor’easter over the weekend. “The bike lane has all but killed our customers who pick up trees in cars.”

Tom, a good-looking burly man with a full bear-like beard, told me that drivers used to pull up, park and get a tree. “We had repeat customers, year after year.” Tom noted that with the bike lane, Ninth Avenue is narrower, and parking on the west side is all but gone. He said that even his local customers who don’t have cars seemed to have passed by.

“The city should give a break from sales tax for Ninth Avenue merchants,” Tom said,

Still, Tom offers the full array of trees for every budget and taste. “From $250 down to $15,” he told me, and “I also can make a bargain.” Tom said that sometimes a family comes by, and if the children seem to want the bigger tree than the parents can afford,”Well, they often walk away with the tree that makes the kids happy.”

Tom, originally from Cape May, N.J., is open all nights through Christmas Eve at midnight.

The bike lane may be good for corralling vehicle transportation, especially late at night with the party-goers, but it hadn’t occurred to me that it would affect the small businesses that have sprung up on Ninth Avenue in the past few years.

As we were talking, two food-delivery guys on bicycles went by—on the avenue, not in the bike lane.

Tom’s going to run for a State Senate seat in Alaska. “I’ve got the required 157 signatures to get on the ballot!” he said.

We had to end our conversation when two men walked by and started to look at the trees. “Customers!” Tom said as he smiled.

I wonder if we’ll see Tom again next year. I hope he doesn’t become another story I tell the youngsters in 2015 about the good ol’ days in Chelsea.