West 39th Street

When I was 24, I leased a walk-up studio loft on West 39th Street. To me “Studio 39” lacked creativity, but I didn’t want a salon named after me, so a name linked to the neighborhood made sense.  

A studio on 39th Street. Studio 39 was a no-brainer. In a building in KC’s oldest district that was built when “Old” Westport was new was where Studio 39 began.  

When I moved the salon off 39th street in 2010, White Lights Bookstore took the space. 

They’ve been on 39th since I was in high school, so that made me happy because despite neighborhood changes, the work I did inside the loft is still there.  

Visiting White Lights feels like going home. Walking up the stairs I see my reflection in the mirror collage I painted hung in the stairway 21 years ago.  

Age has taught me that caring for places we occupy is important, because we’re simply stewards for the occupants after us. 

Many buildings on West 39th Street have been remodeled beyond recognition or leveled for redevelopment. For now, thankfully1801 stays the same. 

1801 West 39th Street

1801 sits in the center of the business district on 39th Street. Local businesses here are eclectic, and West 39th is a unique historical gem. In the 1800’s, a mercantile store and a livery were on the street level, with living quarters above.  The largest upstairs space was where I opened Studio 39. 

Across our hall was office space above D’bronx deli. It had been empty since the 80’s. The upstairs spaces have original architectural features like transom windows above doors to create a breeze. The stairs are now enclosed, so 172 years ago the stairway was open.  

My dad was a builder. When I opened the salon, he was in Wisconsin on a big job, so I did the work solo. 

Later he helped me with projects using his grandad’s wood tools because modern tools do not work well on hand built features. 

West 39th Street Neighbors

Veco’s Italian Restaurant was below the studio when we moved in and were closing after many years.  

Blue Koi took the space a few weeks later. In the summer of 2001, four businesses (including me) occupied the massive 1801 building, and it felt like a maze navigating it.  

Some of our pipes and fuse boxes were in other parts of the building, so it was grandfathered on city building codes.  

My plumber and I were replacing shampoo bowls before opening. I turned off our water valve (I thought) and a rusted valve broke. Water shot across the room. 

After racing around trying to find the valve, I gave up and ran downstairs to warn Blue Koi’s owner Scott.  

He was trying to cover his computer system from the waterfall pouring down and I was horrified. It took a year for me to realize our water main water was connected to his. 

Unless we tore out walls in half the building, there it would stay.  

Now I find all main shut offs first before doing work.  

Great Scott

KCPL told me 1801 is on the oldest section of the city. Building brownouts were common.  

Salons can be electricity vacuums which did not help. Before we opened, I often stayed late after contractors left to get things ready.  

One night a fuse blew, but I couldn’t find it on my fuse panel.  

I realize youth creates unnatural boldness. Not thinking twice about the dangers of roaming around in the dark, massive old building alone at 11 pm, I grabbed my flashlight and went through the vacant space of what would become Blue Koi Restaurant.  

The Uninvited Guest

The door to the basement was stuck. I slid through a 10 inch opening and slowly walked down, then realizing if anything happened, no one would find me.  

That basement had a heavy vibe, and the hair on my arm stood up. 

 I shook it off. Found the fuse box and turned around and saw an eerie outline of a cowboy figure that vanished when my eyes turned to it.  

I raced back up 2 flights of stairs gathered up my stuff and left, and the next day did an energy clearing prayer to avoid whatever I saw again.

The Basement

After Scott moved in and built the Blue Koi Restaurant, I showed him the box. I told him of my trips to his basement in hopes he’d do any future fuse flipping for me. 

He graciously flipped that fuse for 8 years. 

 I told him one day about the cowboy and he threw his head back and gave a deep laugh. 

“We do food prep there so he must have left! “He was so kind I nicknamed him Great Scott.  

Of all the memories from 39th street- 2 businesses will always stand out. 

One became a local brand, and the other became part of KC’s past, but both were there long before the rest of us. 

 D’Bronx on 39th Street

In 2001 D’Bronx deli was still owned by the original owners. Comfort food and good company were just downstairs.  

It took my first trip to New York to realize what a NYC deli was, and that D’Bronx was the real deal. 

It was owned by a couple named Bob and Janet. Her parents were New Yorkers who owned a deli in the 50’s & 60’s in the Bronx, hence the name. 

Despite being in their 70’s, the owners parents were there every morning at 5 am baking bread.   

 I never knew their real names. Like myself, D’Bronx staff was mostly in their early 20’s, so everyone called them Bubbie & Zayd, grandma & grandpa in Yiddish. 

Upstairs the irresistible aroma would beckon, but my first few visits were a bit intimidating.   

Orders were yelled out when ready, and it was loud, so you needed to pay attention. 

Paying close attention is a struggle for me in a stimulating environment. 

And in the early 2000’s D’Bronx was very busy at lunch. 

Tables were packed with people sharing pizza, the delivery guy running deliveries to his truck.  

No heads were down tapping on phones. People stood shoulder to shoulder listening for orders because deli veterans knew not listening earned you a stern look from Bubbie.  

And nobody wanted that.  

Bubbie

Small, mighty, and always behind the counter like she was expecting you.  

Her queen like nod acknowledging my arrival had become pivotal to the start of my day.  

Morning was the best. She’d point out treats just pulled from the oven. 

With UnBubbie like patience, she would wait until I chose. 

Her Medicine

 Always observant, she saw when I was tired or had a cold. Then she chose, because her matzo ball soup was both lunch and a cure.  

She’d shoo me to a booth and hand me a bowl, “here, Jewish penicillin, and today you will sit down and eat.”  

I wondered how she knew I stood up usually when I ate. Those days I’d grab an issue of the Pitch and sit to read and eat.  

 Reading a paper and working sick are 2 things my staff can’t imagine. 

Her famous soup is still on the menu, and occasionally I’ll get a bowl.  

But nothing compares to a matzo ball cooked by Bubbie in the morning, then plopped in a bowl from her own hand.  

Like many things, you never know when it’s the last time you’ll experience something you will miss later. Her serving me lunch is one of those things.  

Johnsons Hardware

Johnson’s hardware was still across the street when I moved in, and I needed a ladder. 

I went in and introduced myself to the gentleman inside. Tall and in his 70’s with pencils in his shirt pocket. His name was George, and he reminded me of my grandpa. Without thinking, I said that.  

Laughing he said “I’ll take it as a compliment, now tell me what you need today.”  

“A ladder and a Phillips screwdriver”, he said “Oh good, you know your tools, that will help with your shop!”  

My “toolbox” was my old hot pink and purple makeup Caboodle from 7th grade. 

His confidence in me was reassuring.   

“Let me get you the size of ladder you need, do you know?” I did know, I had measured floor to ceiling because I did not want unnecessary trips up the steep stairs. When I told him 10 feet, he said “smart girl”.  

In my effort to avoid more physical activity, I’d won his praise. Something about his acknowledgement meant more than the usual “congratulations” when you start a business. I felt like a clueless kid, but he made me feel wise.  

George

After wrestling a 10-foot ladder to the front, he leaned it upright. Giving it a pat he said “this is a good one, solid wood and made in America”.  

 I felt patriotic just looking at it. “Great I’ll take it, and I’ll probably be back 3 more times this week”.  

Another laugh. I thought “why is he laughing when I’m just being truthful”, but he helped me carry it across the street and up the stairs. Pausing on the stairs landing, he dabbed his brow with a hanky, “my knees aren’t what they used to be kiddo”. 

He had a hanky.  After that- George was forever endeared to me.  

“Well, the steep pitch of the stairs, and how often I’ve run up them- cranky knees may be in my future too.” Big George laughed again and though I had 5 million things to do, when he admired my work- I took my time showing him the things I had done and planned to do. “You have a builder brain kiddo.”  

To this day, it is one of the best compliments from a stranger I’ve received.  

My Ladder

I called him Big G, and he was irreplaceable in the first year.  Things got busy and I settled in. One day I went in the hardware store to say hi.  A kid was in his spot behind the counter. I said “Is George here?” 

He gave me a blank look, he had no idea who George was, and I went cold. How long had it been? I counted backwards. 10 months.  

“How long have you worked here? I asked the guy. “Six months” he replied, and I asked him to tell the owner I was looking for George. Ownership had changed hands right before he was hired he informed me.  

George was pushing 80 when I moved in, and I didn’t know his last name. Social media had not been created yet. So I asked some of the other business owners, but nobody knew any details. A month later, the hardware store closed and I didn’t know how to find him. Looking back, it feels like George was one of those people God places in your life subtly who is not family, or a close friend, but a reminding presence you’re ok, and maybe even on the right path. He made me feel capable in a way those close to me didn’t, because they knew me. 

And it dawned on me, he would never know that. I would never get to say thank you, and goodbye. 💔  

Off 39th

After Prospero’s Book Store moved in to that space, I learned the hardware store had been there since the turn of the century. In 2010 I moved the salon off 39th Street. 

I did a final walk through, and the mover was waiting, and I opened the furnace room door. There was the ladder where it sat for 9 years where it had fit perfectly.  

Mentally debating whether it belonged to 1801 or me, the mover said “Is there anything else?”  

“Yeah, I almost forgot my ladder.”  

We carried it downstairs, and on the landing, my knee got cranky and started to ache.  for the 1st time ever. 

I paused, the mover gave me a look. I said “sorry my knee hurts” He said “after a decade of these stairs, I can imagine.” 

I told the movers I’d meet the them at the new space, and I ran back up for one last look at 1801, and I said goodbye to the building, that time, and Big G.