In the East Village, John Casey presides over an emporium of woodcuts and engravings that has outlasted an entire industry.
Underneath a yellow awning at 322 E 11th St, Casey operates the last remaining commercial rubber stamp business in New York City. When he first arrived in the city at age 16, he recalls there being 30 to 40 similar shops. Now, at 76 years old, he stands alone as the city’s final purveyor of the craft, still drawing customers through his door nearly five decades after he began.
Casey Rubber Stamps operates as a legacy business that survives by strictly adhering to the old-fashioned way of doing things. Inside the shop, heavy, vintage machinery is still used to press detailed red rubber sheets. Workers manually cut out the designs and mount them onto wooden blocks.
The store’s shelves are packed floor–to–ceiling with thousands of these wooden stamps, featuring aesthetics derived from antique woodcuts and engravings. The catalog includes diverse images ranging from anatomical drawings and geometric shapes to portraits, horses, sheep, and assorted curiosities.
While the shop operates much as it did when Casey started making stamps in the late 1970s, the space maintains a quirky, distinctly local character. A shop cat wanders among the work tables, and handwritten notices dot the walls. One prominently taped sign politely asks drug dealers to take their business elsewhere and refrain from using the store’s stamp images on their bags.
A Town of Misfits
Casey admits that a business like his probably should have disappeared 20 years ago.
He sometimes wonders how he has managed to survive and keep the doors open in an increasingly digital world. He attributes much of his staying power to the environment of the city itself. Calling New York a “town of misfits,” Casey says the city’s unique diversity and energy provided a place where he fit in better than he ever did in London or Ireland.
Even as he ages, joking that his head feels 18 while his body feels 102, Casey remains amazed that new generations, including young children, continue to discover and appreciate the tactile nature of his stamps.
The daily interactions and the physical work of running the shop provide him with a vital sense of purpose. He notes that the shop keeps him alive, providing a communal atmosphere he compares to a good Irish pub, simply with a bit less drinking.