The Mayor of West 4th Street

By Edward Roche

What makes a neighborhood a neighborhood? People seeing each other. What makes a community? Supporting each other. The pure treat of living in the West Village? All the unique, special places right at our fingertips: Murray’s Cheese, Magnolia Bakery, John’s Pizza, global cuisine, and our bodegas, of course. A healthy community supports small businesses and entrepreneurs, especially brick-and-mortar in NYC, where bureaucracy and sky-high real estate put their survival on the “edge of the empire,” a far cry from stability.

Since my arrival to the West Village in 2021, I have felt the vibrational reality of historical moments from decades past we’ve all heard, moments that are seemingly lost forever, yet still echo here.

One thing that sucks the life force out of this energetic sweet spot is the line of humongous Amazon box trucks parked for most of the day, occupying space on the side streets and sidewalks; utilizing, while not contributing to, our precious neighborhood. Yes, it’s public space. No, the law is not broken. But seeing this operation reminds me of an ant colony, except the queen doesn’t live here. He’s either on a yacht in Saint-Tropez or with his wife on Page Six.

We saw this trend with Starbucks years ago. It was the cool place to get coffee for many, until agricultural wages and bean quality came to light and mom-and-pop cafes came back in vogue. Why shouldn’t this cycle translate to other brick-and-mortar spots?

I get it. Convenience and price points make Amazon tempting, especially for what you genuinely can’t find locally. For the simple staples, though, walking to your bodega or grocery store lets us connect to our food source in a human way. The disconnectivity generated by technology, sold to us as personal efficiency, makes an easy excuse to outsource our errands. But biologically we’re social pack creatures, hardwired for close connection. Phones feed laziness and isolation. Amazon, this headless remote entity, underprices local spots, erodes what they offer, and funnels money outward. We don’t have to buy everything locally, but choosing little bits and pieces (toiletries, eggs, a sandwich) strengthens the neighborhood fabric. I’m as guilty as anyone of the occasional last-minute order, but I notice what gets lost when we default to the app.

Sam’s Deli at 275 West 4th Street is a family-owned establishment since the 1980s that has outlasted waves of change. It’s not the cheapest (real estate pressures make survival tough) but that’s exactly why I choose certain items here: to support a neighborhood anchor and pop in for the human connection. Within a month of my arrival, Sam’s already had a spare key to my apartment.

Ali, the smile-beaming mayor of West 4th Street, has been behind the counter since 2007. He knows everyone’s stories and treats the deli like an extension of the living room. Here are my favorite parts of our conversation:

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Where are you from originally?
I’m from Jerusalem, Palestine. I came to the United States in 2003, in August. I moved here seeking a better life.

You’ve been behind that counter longer than a lot of us have lived in the Village. What’s the biggest change you’ve seen?
The neighborhood changed big time. Normal people, let’s call them normal people, were driven away, and more influencers and CEOs of internet companies moved in. They turned huge buildings into townhomes. They created noise. A lot of them are nice people, but they destroyed the neighborhood in some ways.

If someone new moves to the West Village, what’s one piece of advice you’d give them?
To be very friendly and talk to everyone. Consider themselves as family with the rest of the Village.

What’s one thing about this corner of the West Village that still makes you smile every day?
It’s a good question; I never thought of it. But ever since I started working here, I didn’t leave it because the Village itself makes me want to come to it. It’s grabbing me into it. The community, the people… We know each other, we know our lives, our stories. We’re into each other’s lives. I think that’s unique, specific to this neighborhood.

What do you think we as a community can do to preserve what we have?
We should have more meetings, once every three months, with someone representing each block, just to stay close, stay together, keep up with the news. That will make the community stronger. The meetings will lead to block parties, events… We’ve talked about blocking off one block in the summer, everyone bringing something for dinner or lunch. It’s a really good idea.

Sam’s doesn’t always have what I need or what I’m willing to pay, but the smiles, spare keys, and real relationships are what make the West Village feel like home. They echo its bohemian, Beatnik history of the 1960s and 1970s, when artists, writers, and free spirits gathered in coffeehouses because the neighborhood invited it.

Yes, many creators have been priced out. But many of us still live hand-to-mouth here, and that hunger can be liberating. It keeps you in the vortex, the same gravitational pull Ali described when he said the Village “grabs” him. In a way, the West Village has long been that kind of vortex for so many who have arrived seeking something more: a place where serendipitous collisions happen, friendships spark on the sidewalk, and dreams still feel possible.

We don’t have to fight every modern convenience. But by choosing to step out, support spots like Sam’s, smile at the counter, and even organize those block meetings, we keep the life force flowing right here, where it belongs. That’s how this neighborhood stays magnetic. That’s how it stays ours.