It looms. If you’ve ever taken the 7 train into Manhattan or stood on the East River promenade at sunset, you’ve seen it. That massive, curly-scripted neon relic. The Pepsi Cola sign Long Island City is more than just a billboard, though. Honestly, it’s a survivor. In a city that treats its skyline like a game of Tetris—constantly shifting, deleting, and replacing—this 120-foot-long hunk of steel and neon has somehow managed to outlast the very factory it was built to promote.
It’s weirdly beautiful.
Most people just snap a photo for Instagram and move on, but there’s a whole layer of grit and legal drama underneath those ruby-red lights. You’re looking at a piece of 1940s industrial muscle that refused to die even when the neighborhood around it went from "industrial wasteland" to "luxury high-rise central."
The Day the Bottles Stopped Moving
Back in 1936, the Pepsi-Cola company bought a massive plot of land in Long Island City. It wasn't fancy. It was all smoke, gears, and the smell of sugar. The sign we see today didn't actually arrive until 1940. It was perched right on top of the bottling plant. At the time, Long Island City was the pulsing heart of New York’s manufacturing scene. It wasn’t a place you went for a craft cocktail; it was where stuff got made.
Art Kraft Signs was the firm behind the build. They didn’t half-step it. We are talking about letters that stand 44 feet high. The "P" alone is roughly the size of a small suburban house. When it was first flicked on, it wasn't a nostalgic landmark. It was a loud, proud "look at us" to the commuters across the river in Manhattan. It was corporate dominance rendered in neon.
Then the world changed.
By the late 90s, the factory was a relic. In 1999, Pepsi finally shuttered the plant. Usually, that’s when the wrecking ball swings and the neon goes to a scrapyard or some eccentric billionaire’s basement. But Long Island City residents—and New York’s preservationists—threw a fit. They realized that without that red glow, the shoreline would just be another generic wall of glass.
Saving the Pepsi Cola Sign Long Island City from the Scrapyard
What followed was a decades-long game of "Keep Away."
Basically, the sign had to be moved. When the factory was demolished to make way for the Gantry Plaza State Park and those massive apartment complexes, the sign was carefully dismantled. It spent some time literally sitting on the ground, looking like a discarded toy.
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In 2009, it was re-installed a short distance from its original home, but this time, it was lowered. It sits on a permanent concrete base now, right at the water’s edge. It’s accessible. You can walk right up to it. You can see the bolts. You can see how the neon tubes are actually shaped. It feels more human down there, even if it lost its "towering" industrial status.
The real win came in 2016. After roughly 25 years of advocacy, the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission officially designated it a landmark. That’s a big deal. It means you can’t just decide to paint it blue or tear it down because it blocks the view from a $4,000-a-month studio apartment.
Why It Looks Different Than You Think
If you look closely at the Pepsi Cola sign Long Island City, you’ll notice the logo isn’t the one you see on a soda can today. It’s the "swirly" script. This is the 1940s-era branding. There’s a giant bottle next to the name, too. For years, that bottle was a 50-foot-tall representation of the Pepsi bottle design from that era.
Interestingly, when the sign was restored, they had to ensure the neon stayed true to the original 1940 color palette. It’s a specific shade of red. It isn't just "red." It’s a glow that reflects off the East River in a way that feels incredibly cinematic. Film buffs might recognize it from various movies—it’s the ultimate "Old New York" shorthand.
The Controversy You Probably Missed
Not everyone loves it. There’s a persistent argument about whether we should be "landmarking" corporate advertisements. Some critics argue that by protecting the Pepsi Cola sign Long Island City, the city is essentially giving a multi-billion dollar corporation free, permanent advertising on public land.
Think about it.
Usually, if you want a sign that big in New York, you pay millions in permits and taxes. Pepsi gets to keep theirs there forever because we’ve deemed it "art." It’s a valid point. Is it a historical monument, or is it just a very old commercial?
But talk to anyone who grew up in Queens. To them, the sign isn't about soda. It’s a compass. It’s a reminder of a time when New York was a city of creators and builders, not just bankers and tech bros. It represents the sweat of the 20th-century workforce. When you see that red glow, you know you’t home.
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Modern Maintenance: It's Not Easy Being Red
Maintaining a vintage neon sign in a salt-water environment (thanks, East River) is a nightmare. The wind coming off the water hits those letters with incredible force. The salt corrodes the metal. The neon tubes are fragile.
- The sign uses roughly 1,200 feet of neon tubing.
- The letters are made of porcelain-enameled steel.
- A dedicated team has to periodically inspect the transformers.
- If one "flicker" happens, the whole aesthetic is ruined.
The fact that it’s still standing and fully lit is a testament to the Landmark Preservation Commission’s strict rules. They don't just let you "fix" it; you have to restore it.
Best Ways to Experience the Sign
If you’re heading out to see it, don’t just walk by.
Timing is everything. You want to arrive about 20 minutes before sunset. This is when the "Blue Hour" hits. The sky turns a deep indigo, the Manhattan skyline begins to twinkle, and then—snap—the Pepsi sign kicks on. The contrast of the red neon against the blue sky is the money shot.
The Secret View. Most people stand right in front of it in Gantry Plaza State Park. It's fine, but crowded. Instead, try taking the NYC Ferry (the Astoria or East River route). As the boat pulls away from the Hunters Point South dock, you get a perspective of the sign that makes it look like it’s floating on the water.
The Industrial Loop. Walk north from the sign toward Anable Basin. You’ll see the juxtaposition of the old LIC (rust, warehouses, gravel yards) and the new LIC (glass towers). It puts the sign’s survival into a much clearer context.
What Most People Get Wrong
A common myth is that the sign is exactly where it always was. Nope. As mentioned, it moved about 300 feet. Another misconception? That Pepsi still owns the land. They don't. The land is public parkland and private development area now. The sign exists in a sort of legal "easement," a tiny island of corporate history protected by law in the middle of a residential boom.
People also think it’s the only one left. While it’s the most famous, New York used to be covered in these. The "Duffy-Mott’s" sign, the "Silvercup" sign (which is still nearby!), and various others formed a "Neon Coast." The Pepsi sign is just the loudest survivor of that era.
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How to Get There
It’s surprisingly easy to reach, yet many tourists miss it because they stay in the Manhattan bubble.
- Take the 7 Train to Vernon Blvd - Jackson Av. It’s one stop from Grand Central.
- Walk west toward the water. You can’t miss it.
- If you’re coming from North Brooklyn, it’s a great 25-minute walk across the Pulaski Bridge.
Making the Most of Your Visit
Don’t just look at the sign and leave. Long Island City has pivoted hard into the arts.
- MoMA PS1 is a short walk away. It’s an old schoolhouse turned into a contemporary art museum. It feels as raw as the Pepsi sign used to.
- The Gantry Cranes. Just south of the sign are the huge black structures that used to lift rail cars off barges. They are the "skeleton" of the old waterfront.
- Lic Beer Project. If all that red branding makes you thirsty, hit up one of the local breweries. LIC is currently the craft beer capital of the five boroughs.
The Pepsi Cola sign Long Island City is a ghost that refused to leave. It’s a reminder that even in a city obsessed with the "next big thing," we still crave a connection to the things that were built to last. It’s a piece of the 1940s that still works, still glows, and still tells us exactly where we are.
Actionable Insights for Your Visit
To truly appreciate the site, skip the midday sun. The sign is designed for the dark.
Bring a tripod if you're a photographer, but keep it low-profile; the park rangers can be picky about professional gear without a permit. If you're on a date, the benches directly south of the sign offer the best view of the United Nations building directly across the water, framed by the "P" and the "E."
Finally, check the wind. The LIC waterfront can be 10 degrees colder than the city streets because of the river gust. Dress like you're going to be standing on a pier—because you are. Take in the hum of the neon. If you stand close enough on a quiet night, you can actually hear it "singing." That low-frequency buzz is the sound of New York history.
Go see it before the skyline changes again. While the sign is protected, the view around it isn't, and every year a new tower seems to sprout up, trying to crowd out the old red script. But for now, the king of the LIC waterfront still wears a Pepsi crown.