Going a Little Bear on the Upper West Side

 By Yvonne Vávra

We’re a bear. Here, in the temperate region between 59th and 110th Streets, dwells a remarkable urban species: the Upper West Side Bear. By day, it’s rarely seen—off on long hunts, until it returns to its den at dusk to be with its cubs. It feels deeply, speaks sparingly, and thrives on calm habits and strong family bonds.

At least that’s what I learned from a laminated field report taped to a lamppost at 72nd Street. The sign seems to be part of a project called “The Grid Zoo,” which imagines every New York neighborhood as a distinct habitat with its own native species and behaviors. While we’re the bear, you’ll find flamingos in the West Village and crows in the East Village, while SoHo is home to peacocks and the Lower East Side to rats. Looks like we got off pretty good.

There’s not much information or social media action around the project, but whatever it is—or was, or will be—the bear kept ambling around in my head.

We’re so the bear. If you squint, it makes sense. The fur: brownstones. The claws: co-op boards. The growl: the sound an Upper West Sider makes whenever a new bike lane appears. Okay, that’s a lot of squinting—but bear with me.

A bear is a contradictory creature—powerful yet gentle, fierce yet sleepy, wild yet wise. It doesn’t stomp around brandishing its strength for fun, but give Mama Bear a reason, and she’ll defend what she loves with everything she’s got. Which is a lot.

Bears live wisely by the rhythm of the seasons, slowing down when they need to. They’re survivors—no matter how harsh the winter or how scarce the food, they’re ready, having quite literally stocked up on themselves to snooze right through it.

Are you as ready as I am to make an almost unbearably earnest attempt to locate the Upper West Side’s inner bear?

After all, this neighborhood has mastered the art of survival in a city that’s always racing to leave its past behind. Surrounded by constant change, we’re still ordering from menus laminated in the ’90s. The Upper West Side isn’t afraid to step out of the sprint now and then—to tend its trails, check the paw prints, and make sure all routes still lead home. We don’t exactly hibernate, but we understand the value of resting and conserving a little energy, a little history, a little identity.

By keeping a few things the way they’ve always been, we protect a sense of belonging to the den. Upper West Siders have a special bond with their territory. Even if you’ve just moved here, the neighborhood works its past into you, and if it has to be through an old deli door, so be it. Every smoked sturgeon at Barney Greengrass comes with a side of local lore; every chopped herring salad offers a complimentary trip back in time. Pick any decade from the last ninety-plus years—it doesn’t matter when—Barney has always looked the same, and nobody would have it any other way.

Because of this strong bond, the Upper West Bear is ready, willing, and able to defend its territory and values. It does so not with claws, but with care: by cherishing its rituals, keeping small businesses alive, and showing the neighborhood love. Everyone does their part, tending their corners: bagels here, coffee there, a corner for chatting there and there. It’s a collective strength, used in the wisest way possible—to keep home alive.

Sure, sometimes we can get a little carried away worrying about being swept up in the city’s churn. But that’s just the bear’s way of getting ready for tough times. Of all New York species, this one up here seems especially wary of extinction. Community board meetings and comment sections will roar if you threaten the den with plans for new bus lanes, high-rises, delivery hubs, and whatnot. Change isn’t this bear’s favorite guest, but we could generously see it as part of the charm. For all its stubbornness, the Upper West Side Bear knows what it means to love a place enough to guard it. The grumble? That’s just how it says it cares.

Whoever posted that sign on 72nd Street might have been onto something. But bear or not, we—the rushing, scrolling, striving—could stand to learn a little from our small patch of island: to resist the frenzy, hold on, and not run ourselves right out of who we are. The city will keep roaring—and don’t we love her all the more for it?—but we don’t have to chime in all the time. The weather’s turning anyway; it’s the perfect season to go a little bear. Naps encouraged.

Yvonne Vávra is a magazine writer and author of the German book 111 Gründe New York zu lieben (111 Reasons to Love New York). Born a Berliner but an aspiring Upper West Sider since the 1990s (thanks, Nora Ephron), she came to New York in 2010 and seven years later made her Upper West Side dreams come true. She’s been obsessively walking the neighborhood ever since.

Subscribe to West Side Rag’s FREE email newsletter here. And you can Support the Rag here.