The downtown edge

It's true: lower Manhattan has a different vibe, a different energy and edge, compared to midtown. I tasted it first-hand while spending a few days last week working, eating, sleeping and walking around Soho, Chinatown and Little Italy, by Tribeca.

Walking down Canal Street, which hasn't seemed to change at all over the years, I was asked more than once about my interest in buying a Rolex watch. I stopped to ask a cop if the distinct structure a few blocks south was the municipal building. Seemingly unsure, she said it was "down there a few blocks." As I walked across a courtyard full of cars at the Manhattan Detention Center, a man walked out of a building and into the waiting arms of a woman who seemed thrilled to see him.

Back on Canal Street, I walked past a seafood store with its front open to the sidewalk, from where all kinds of people, young, old, middle age; black, white, yellow; men, women, undetermined; seemed determined to find the best value among all kinds of sea fare, some of which looked more appetizing than others.

Continuing past groups of tourists and other out-of-towners, I made my way down Mulberry Street and into what remains of Little Italy, which certainly seems smaller than it was a generation or two ago. By Grand Street, a white-haired man in a white t-shirt lowered and dangled a pink shopping bag on a string from the second floor window of an old apartment building. He beckoned a lady below to "get it." After protesting loudly, she eventually took something from inside the bag and entered the building. Minutes later, the guy in the t-shirt was still by his window, now shut, seeming to stare at blank space between his apartment and the street below.

A woman in a white Mercedes-Benz SL 500 pulled into a parking spot that a friend on the sidewalk seemed to somehow save for her. Down the street, two ladies made their way toward Canal Street slowly, almost aimlessly, passing Italian restaurants and various stores. "Everything in the store is under $10; bags, scarves," a man on the sidewalk told them. They paused, and walked on. For some reason, I began to think of a book I read more than once as a child, And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street, written and illustrated by Dr. Seuss and Robert Carington - published in 1937, and still seeming to capture the neighborhood's fantasies.

Back on Canal Street, a young inter-racial couple walked leisurely, sharing some laughs. "You can't bite your nails," she said. "Why?" he asked. "Because I can't," she responded. Later that evening, on the sidewalk outside a Soho post office at Prince and Greene Streets, I spotted a tribute to Steve Jobs that can only be described as...very Soho, or downtown. The late Apple leader probably would've liked it. A middle-age guy who spends a lot of time in midtown photographed it and posted it on Twitter.

Elsewhere in Soho, the neighborhood's boutiques and other stores closed for the evening, smokers were hanging outside clubs. A hotel set up ropes outside its front doors in anticipation of a late night crowd trying to get into its bar. Two young professional ladies walked out, tapped furiously on their BlackBerrys, and jumped into a taxi for some dancing at another downtown spot.

If you look beyond technology, there's probably little that's changed in the vibe and energy of lower Manhattan during the past 100-200 years. According to historians, it's always had an edge, an edge that kept pushing the city's initial waves of elites north to midtown and beyond, to the orderliness of the grid designed by the Commissioners' Plan of 1811. Robert Moses threatened the neighborhood's edge with the Lower Manhattan Expressway over a century later, but the highway was never built, ensuring Soho and other neighborhoods below the grid were more than an area to drive quickly through. That was a good thing, because there are a lot of interesting things to stop and see in downtown.