On an upper level of the Pier 17 pavilion in Lower Manhattan, a shop called Seaport Dollars marketed a stack of “freedom dollars” featuring the face of Gov. Jan Brewer of Arizona. They clustered next to a bobblehead doll of President Obama and the apparently severed head of a bald mannequin. Detached arms, legs and naked torsos were splayed across the floor.

“Give me a price,” the store’s proprietor said, noticing a visitor’s interest in the half-bodies.

It was an inglorious end for the pavilion, South Street Seaport’s 28-year-old hub, whose introduction inspired protests from community groups asking for more open space, but also hope that a strong retail presence would drive visitors to the historic seaport area.

There were bustling times, cresting perhaps in the early 1990s, as Wall Street workers came for the seaside lunches and returned for liquid dinners on Friday nights, when the pier moonlighted as a sprawling singles bar.

But the area eventually devolved into what critics feared it would always be: a suburban-style shopping center unworthy of its real estate, pairing a privileged view of the Brooklyn Bridge with $10 massages and Arthur Treacher’s Fish and Chips.