Fortunate
Gem Spa, the narrow twenty-four-hour newsstand on St. Mark’s Place, has served as a nerve center for generations of beats, hippies (undeterred by a sign reading, “No Combing of Hair—By Order of Health Dept”), rockers, and punks. The other day, Lily Tomlin, who is seventy-six, stopped by in the hope of getting an egg cream. Encountering a long line of customers waiting to buy magazines and lottery tickets, her personal assistant, Paul (burly, doting), shuffled her out.