Weather: Bright but wicked cold, with wind chills around 12 this morning and a high of 31. Cold all weekend. Chance of snow tomorrow night.
Alternate-side parking: in effect till Jan. 21.
A lot has changed since Mr. Brown took office.
The governor of New York is still named Cuomo. But instead of Mario, it is now his son, Andrew.
Bill de Blasio still shows up to work at City Hall. In 1991, he worked for Mayor David Dinkins. Today, Mr. de Blasio is the mayor.
Here is more about what Queens and New York were like when Mr. Brown first took office.
Landmarks like the Alexander’s department store in Rego Park, Niederstein’s Restaurant in Middle Village and the original Louis Armstrong Stadium in Flushing Meadows Corona Park, were operational. Today, they are all gone.
And Long Island City — which will soon house a headquarters for Amazon — was home to factories, including the Swingline staple factory, the Ronzoni pasta factory and the Scalamandré silk mill, according to the Queens Historical Society. They are gone, too.
Bigger and more diverse
There were 361 in Queens in 1991. Last year, there were 63, according to Mr. Brown’s office.
Archbishop Molloy High School (my alma mater!) was an all-boys Catholic High School. Today, it is coed.
De Blasio’s big speech, Albany’s big reforms
Highlights from Bill de Blasio’s State of the City speech, which he delivered Thursday (with teleprompters!):
There’s “plenty of money in this city. It’s just in the wrong hands,” the mayor said. He also promised to seize buildings owned by scofflaw landlords, a plan that will almost certainly meet legislative and legal hurdles.
The mayor also spoke of adding ferry service from Staten Island and Coney Island to Manhattan.
State lawmakers began their new session vowing to improve New York’s byzantine voting process.
Proposed changes include early voting, preregistration of 16- and 17-year-olds, and holding state and federal primaries on the same day.
Best of The Times
Output, beloved and remembered: Customers recall a Brooklyn club that combined a come-as-you-are attitude with world-class sounds.
You’ve come a long way: A graffiti artists travels to Russia, for work.
Why buy the Chrysler Building? It embodies a “Mad Man”-era work ethos, and must compete in a market where WeWork is the largest office tenant in New York.
Silent taps: Among the unlikelier casualties of the government shutdown are craft breweries.
Curtains: Upright Citizens Brigade will close its East Village location, keeping a venue in Hell’s Kitchen and two in Los Angeles.
What we’re reading
Representative Tom Suozzi got on the Ways and Means Committee. The Long Island Democrat edged out the freshman Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. [The Hill]
State Senator Andrea Stewart-Cousins is the first woman to lead a chamber of the New York Legislature. The 2019 session began this week.
Last chance to see Charles White
For the last 40 years, the opening credits of “Saturday Night Live” have featured a montage of New York City life.
One clip this season shows a man and woman kissing. (You can see it here). Who are they? How did they end up there?
The woman’s name is Keren Lerner, and she is a web developer for New York magazine.
She and her boyfriend were on a date in SoHo, and they kissed.
A “young woman with a clipboard and a sheepish smile stepped out of a parked van and approached us,” Ms. Lerner wrote on Vulture.
The woman identified herself as a production assistant for “Saturday Night Live” and said her crew happened to witness the kiss and “thought it was pretty cute, so we zoomed and got some good footage.” Would they sign release forms? Ms. Lerner and her boyfriend happily obliged.
It’s Friday! Kiss the one you love, like nobody’s watching (even though somebody probably is).
Metropolitan Diary: Born in ’53
I was standing in a scraggly line of Upper West Siders at the MetroCard Van on Broadway between 85th and 86th Streets. We had our IDs in hand, ready to prove that we were, or were about to be, senior citizens and entitled to coveted half-price MetroCards.
Some of us had gone gray; others had too but were doing what they could not to let it show. A few people were leaning on canes; others, dressed in workout gear, were stretching and talking on cellphones.
It was a cranky group at first, until we realized we had all been born within a month of one another in 1953.
When it was my turn at the window, the man behind the counter held up a camera to take a picture to go with my card.
“If that crowd doesn’t move, they’ll all be in your shot,” he said. “It’s your choice.”
I turned to urge the people behind me to move. But then I thought of us all being babies at the same time.
We all were 7 when four African-American students sat at a Woolworth’s lunch counter in Greensboro, N.C., in February 1960. We all were 10 when we sat in front of the television as our parents cried after President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in November 1963. We all were nearing 16 when the first man walked on the moon in July 1969.
“It’s O.K. if they’re in the picture,” I said. “We’re old friends.”
— Patty Dann