It is easy to forget, looking at such scenes and at the sooty, weathered buildings, that the Bowery was once an avenue where banks put up palatial headquarters, where Al Jolson and W. C. Fields regaled vaudeville crowds, where Allen Ginsberg howled his poems and Roy Lichtenstein popped art.
“The Bowery! The Bowery! They say such things and they do strange things,” went an 1891 song. But generic glass-and-steel towers, trendy hotels, art galleries and chains like Whole Foods have been chipping away at the street’s character, threatening to make some blocks resemble the sleeker stretches of Avenue of the Americas or Third Avenue in Midtown. A bare-bones room at the Grand Hotel at 143 Bowery — named for the cross-street, not its opulence — can still be had for $12 a night, but more typical is a room at the five-year-old Bowery Hotel, a pastiche of the Victorian and the bohemian where rooms can cost