Yes, there’s the saying that change is inevitable. But it gets thrown around to dismiss the way that change can, and does, affect you and what you love. What you’ve nurtured. All so you get used to losing things. But you’re not supposed to. I had these thoughts on a slightly warmer winter afternoon, when I rolled up to the Jamaica Coliseum Mall, which we all know as just “The Coliseum”.

 

I was inspired to head over there after a series of videos from Mr. Fingaz, an award-winning producer and engineer who’s woked with many esteemed artists like Jay-Z and the late DMX. He’s also a native of Southeast Queens, like me. I got acquainted with him through his Instagram page, and some of his videos brought me back to the days of growing up in the area, and the changes that have taken place. His most recent video, grabbed my attention. In a bittersweet way. He learned that The Coliseum, a cornerstone of my foundational memories as a child and teenager, will be closing for good on January 31. While I hadn’t been over there in months, to hear that it was going to be permanently closed for good jarred something loose within me. 

 

I made it a point to head over there the following afternoon. As I waited at the corner of Merrick Boulevard and Jamaica Avenue, I took a look around at the storefronts. Some had closed up shop for good, while a few others had items at discount prices on the sidewalk in front. The old Cookies department store was still there. But once I approached the Central Branch for the Queens Public Library, the mood felt different. 

 

The entire 165th Street Bus Terminal building had been demolished, as well as the building which once held the studio where Hip-Hop legend Jam Master Jay was murdered 23 years ago. This stretch was a major part of my childhood; the bus that took me from my neighborhood used to end at that terminal. My grandparents on my mom’s side used to live two blocks over, on 164th Street along with my aunt and uncle. 

 

I started reminiscing about those days, thinking about them and my late mother and how I would go to the library to drop off and get books. I felt a tear or two tug at the corners of my eyes as I approched the corner where the 165th Street Mall began, and saw the facade of The Coliseum. It looked faded,understated as the doorway held slats of plywood.I walked over to the side, and made my way in. A bunch of stores were shuttered, and a few stalls lay empty, frozen in time with old concert flyers stuck to their walls. You used to walk inside and be regaled with music from all corners, and have to make your way through the crowds. Those days seemed to be like trailing incense smoke as I looked around.

 

Two younger dudes were posted up by one store’s corner, lost in conversation but alert enough to give me the quick once-over. One was rolling up trees nonchalantly. I moved past them to see if the same merchant who always had the butter leather coats and boots was still there. (He was.)

 

The lower level where all the gold and jewelry merchants still buzzed, nowhere near the heyday of the 80s and 90s whenit was THE spot in Queens to get your pieces. Biz Markie, LL Cool J, Kool G. Rap, and many other Hip-Hop legends made their way through this section. I remember being on the scene when the Wu-Tang Clan filmed their iconic “Ice Cream” video in the mall. (I’ll write more about that at another time.)

 

The Coliseum was a place where you’d get your fresh kicks, and perhaps get some good deals on household linens and bedding. I remember Mom having a particular vendor she’d visit there, comparing and contrasting prices to whatever would be in the old Alexander’s department store a block over.  Mom would tell me about how The Coliseum used to be a Macy’s. She remembered shopping there, and at one point there would be jazz musicians who’d gather outside that entrance on 165th Street to play music for those who wanted to take a break. 

 

In fact, the history of the building has been examined in a highly thorough article in The Brooklyn Rail, written by former Artform Editor-In-Chief Joseph Masheck. It reveals how this particular Macy’s would have design elements that makes it in his words, “an overlooked work of architectural art” during its operation from 1947 to its closure in 1977. Ironically, two weeks before I would be born, according to The New York Times.

 

The Coliseum as I and many of my generation knew it, would be born in 1983.Those elements are still present, from the rounded corner of the northeastern corner entrance, to the oval-shaped entryway to the lower level which Masheck writes pre-dated by a decade the construction of famed similarly built staircase at the T.W.A. terminal at JFK Airport.The Coliseum had been up for sale since last July; a listing price back in 2015 was $45 million for the nearly 250,000 square foot property, according to reporting by the New York YIMBY website. The listing mentions the “high foot traffic” as an enticement, which is true. But the issue that persists is the looming spectre of gentrification. 

 

Numerous stores have closed on the Ave, and the height of the COVID-19 pandemic didn’t help one bit. Like a lot of New York City, you find yourself missing the places that used to be there. Mr. Lee’s. Gertz Mall. Hot Waxx. Jamaica Savings Bank. Even the movie theater that took over the parking lot at Parsons and Archer is now permanently closed. The Coliseum closing could be a death knell for the rest of the stores in the 165th Street Mall, a place that used to be the place you wanted to be. 

 

The Macy’s in downtown Brooklyn which recently closed is reportedly being nominated for historical preservation. I would call for the same for The Coliseum. It’s a vital part of Southeast Queens, one that should be preserved for posterity.

 

After all, memories like that in buildings that could still serve a purpose shouldn’t be held hostage by landlords.