THESE ARE A SMALL SAMPLING OF LOZOWICK’S WORK ON VIEW AT THE SMITHSONIAN WEBSITE.
Louis Lozowick
(1892 – 1973) was a Russian-American painter and printmaker. He is recognized as an Art Deco and Precisionist artist, and mainly produced streamline, urban-inspired monochromatic lithographs in a career that spanned 50 years.
Self Portrait 1930 Lithograph on Paper
LIGHTHOUSE 1938 COLOR LITHOGRAPH ON PAPER
Lozowick was born in the Kiev Oblast of Ukraine (then part of the Russian Empire) in 1892 to Abraham and Mary (Tafipolsky) Lozowick.HIs parenets moved to Kiev when he was young, and he attended Kiev Art School before he immigrated to the USA, where he continued his studies at the National Academy of Design (New York) and Ohio State University. In America, Lozowick became fluent in English, in addition to his native Ukrainian, Russian, and Yiddish.
UNDER THE BRIDGE 1930 LITHOGRAPH ON PAPER
From 1919 to 1924 Lozowick lived and traveled throughout Europe, spending most of his time in Paris, Berlin and Moscow. In the mid-1920s he started making his first lithographs. Tanks #1, 1929, lithograph Lower Manhattan, 1936, lithograph
By 1926, when he joined the editorial board of the left-wing journal, New Masses, he was well-versed in current artistic developments in Europe, such as Constructivism and de Stijl. These hard-edged, linear styles, evident in a lithograph called “New York (Brooklyn Bridge),” suggest the possibility of an efficient reframing of the world, as did the political theories espoused in New Masses.
A version of this lithograph was planned as a cover for New Masses that was never published. Lozowick was highly interested in the development of the Russian avant-garde and even published a monograph on Russian Constructivism entitled Modern Russian Art. In 1943 Lozowick moved to New Jersey where he continued to paint and make prints. The human condition remained a constant theme of his art, and an ongoing interest in nature appears more frequently in his later works.
BENCH AT CORNELL TECH 3 EARLY BIRD WINNERS VICKI FEINMEL BRENDA VAUGHN ALEXIS VILLEFANE
ALEXIS VILLEFANE IS THE WINNER
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff All materials in this publication are copyrighted (c)
DISCOVERED PAINTINGS AND PHOTOGRAPHS METROPOLITAN HOSPITAL SCHOOL OF NURSING 1904
MISS MARY HOGAN CLASS OF 1904 LIFELONG CAREER AT MET RETIRED 1932
PAINTINGS
These oil paintings were photographed years ago. They hung in a conference room at the Manhattan Metropolitan Hospital. Long neglected, they were in fragile shape and I am not sure if they are still existing.
Draper Hall, the residence for nurses and student nurses
This scene depicts the Sacred Heart Church which was adjacent to Metropolitan Hospital.
Holy Spirit Chapel opened in the late 1920’s for the patients and staff of the adjacent Metropolitan Hospital
Library inside Draper Hall
The road in front of Metropolitan Hospital
Originally the Homeopathic Hospital on Ward’s Island, the Hospital relocated to Blackwell’s Island in 1895 and was re-named Metropolitan Hospital. It again relocated to Manhattan in 1955 and is still a general hospital at 97th Street and First Avenue.
DRAPER HALL
Dining room at Draper Hall, named in honor of Mrs. William Kinnicut Draper.
Lounge inside Draper Hall
Student room set for afternoon tea
Students observing surgery
MARY HOGAN, R.N.
The Directory of the Alumnae Association. This is a valuable resource to the inquiries we receive. We know little of Miss Hogan from our records. She was treasurer of the Alumnae Association for year and went to conventions on nursing. We assume she did not marry. Maybe we will find out more.
Mary Hogan spent her career at Met. Photo above is of nurses from the hospital outside Staff Housing.
In 1932, Miss Hogan retired from the Met.
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Funding Provided by: Roosevelt Island Operating Corporation Public Purpose Funds Council Member Ben Kallos City Council Discretionary Funds thru DYCD Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff ALL PHOTOS COPYRIGHT RIHS. 2020 (C) PHOTOS IN THIS ISSUE (C) JUDITH BERDY RIHS
FROM THE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE OF THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE OF HEALTH
Mary Lasker and the Growth of the National Institutes of Health
In the twenty-five years after World War II, the United States built the largest medical research enterprise in the world, with the National Institutes of Health (NIH) as its centerpiece. Notwithstanding a dominant political creed that questioned the role of the state in society, the country went further than any other nation in erecting a centralized, government-financed institutional framework for biomedical research. Mary Lasker was a key part of this enterprise: she developed a compelling political rationale for federal sponsorship of medical research, built a powerful lobby that won large research appropriations, and pushed NIH into new scientific directions, at times in opposition to the scientific establishment. Until World War II, medical research in the United States was modest in scale.
It was conducted at universities, non-profit institutes, or private companies, with only a few federal grants-in-aid. Scientists opposed federal financing of research as government infringement on the freedom of science and a violation of the principle that not money, but the individual ability of the investigator counted most in achieving scientific progress. Poor health was considered by many Depression-era Americans to be a matter of fate, and access to health care not a right, but a privilege.
The war changed such attitudes. The draft highlighted the poor health of the American people: one-third of prospective recruits were rejected for medical reasons. Furthermore, the atomic bomb program dramatized that government research could yield scientific breakthroughs. Mary Lasker concluded from these wartime experiences that public health had to be improved and that medical research could ensure such improvement, but only after it was reorganized and given a large infusion of federal funds. “Without money, nothing gets done,” she asserted. Postwar prosperity, rising public expectations of good health and longevity, and a new faith in the potential of science provided economic and cultural impetus for Lasker’s efforts to reshape the medical research enterprise.
She found a close ally in Florence Mahoney, whose husband was an heir to the Cox newspaper chain, the country’s largest, and who shared Mary’s early interest in birth control and mental health. After her divorce in 1950, Mahoney moved to Washington, where she became unofficial hostess to the health lobby, bringing together legislators, policymakers, and scientists at her Georgetown home.
After first pushing for research institutes independent of the National Institute of Health (then still singular), Lasker and Mahoney shifted their position in 1946 in favor of expanding its research capabilities. With their lobbying support, the NIH budget grew 150-fold, to $460 million, between 1945 and 1961, and reached $1 billion by the late 1960s. Several new research institutes were established by 1950, including the National Heart Institute, the National Institute of Mental Health, and the National Institute of Neurological Diseases and Blindness, each with the ability to award research grants to investigators throughout the country and the world, their main function. The modern, plural National Institutes of Health was born.
Mahoney and Mike Gorman, a journalist hired by Lasker to head her lobbying organization in Washington, the National Mental Health Committee, helped Lasker form enduring political relationships with key members of Congress. Of particular importance to Lasker were two Democrats with jurisdiction over medical research policy from the late 1940s to the late 1960s: Representative John Fogarty of Rhode Island, chairman of the House subcommittee on health appropriations, and Senator Lister Hill of Alabama, chairman of the Senate committee on labor and public welfare and the appropriations subcommittee for health. Lasker supplied their committees with figures on death, disability, and loss of income (and thus of taxes) from disease.
In a choreographed ritual that was repeated at annual budget hearings for many years, Fogarty started out by castigating administration officials for “cutting back” the NIH budget request. He then called on expert witnesses, recruited by Lasker, to describe the true financial needs of medical research institutions. These “citizen” witnesses included heart surgeon Michael DeBakey, cancer researcher Sidney Farber, and psychiatrist Karl Menninger, all winners of Lasker awards. Witnesses of lesser renown were coached by Gorman to use plain language in displaying their expertise while showing passion for their subject. “Doctors aren’t used to selling anything,” Lasker stated flatly; they had to be taught that Congress expected them to ask for large increases in research funds each year, lest they be seen as timid in the face of scientific challenges.
After hearing these witnesses, Fogarty, assisted by Gorman and NIH director James Shannon, wrote a report calling for a substantial increase in NIH funds beyond the administration’s budget, an increase of as much as $155 million (for fiscal year 1962). Meanwhile, Lasker and Mahoney secured editorial endorsements of a funding increase in the Cox newspapers. Lister Hill then followed with a similar performance in the Senate, raising NIH appropriations still further.
Lasker’s clout in Congress grew because she had access to Presidents, especially Democrats, supplying them with a steady flow of memos and drafts of speeches. As an aide to President Lyndon Johnson stated, Lasker and her associates “set a new fashion for lobbyists. The moving and shaking done by such womenfolk affects everybody including the most obdurate politician.”
Lasker’s lobbying success drew criticism as well as praise. NIH scientists, although buoyed by the unprecedented resources and prestige they enjoyed in the postwar years, were wary of research funding by disease category through separate NIH institutes. They preferred allocations by scientific disciplines based on the process of peer review of research proposals initiated by investigators, not appropriations to individual NIH institutes for research on specific diseases selected by Congress, which some of them derisively called “disease-of-the-month-club” legislation. Other critics argued that Lasker’s lobbying on behalf of research for cancer and heart disease elevated efforts to extend life for the elderly over initiatives that would save more lives, such as preventive medicine, smoking cessation, and research on trauma and accidents. Advocates of Great Society and civil rights programs who sought to promote access to quality health care questioned whether citizens really benefited from medical research dollars. Such criticism notwithstanding, Lasker’s efforts to drive up funding for research on “dread diseases” that alarmed the public remained politically popular.
One of Lasker’s lobbying achievements was a statutory requirement that NIH establish advisory councils to oversee grant making and overall direction of research–councils that included laypeople as well as physicians and scientists. Beginning in 1950, Lasker served for twenty years, with only brief interruptions, on the National Heart Advisory Council and the National Cancer Advisory Council. Mahoney served equally long on several councils, as did Mary’s sister, Alice Fordyce. For most of these years they were the only women on their councils, which added to the challenge of facing the initial prejudice towards laypersons displayed by the medical professionals on the councils. But Lasker and Mahoney soon learned to use their position on the councils to push NIH to support new scientific fields, such as cancer chemotherapy and research on aging. John Fogarty died of a heart attack in January 1967; Lister Hill and James Shannon retired in 1968. The following year, without Fogarty and Hill’s skillful intercession on behalf of NIH, Congress reduced its budget by $20 million, then the largest cut in the agency’s history. “[T]he inexorable workings of tide and time have combined to diminish the [medical research] lobby’s political power,” wrote one of Lasker’s critics, Joseph D. Cooper, in the Medical Tribune. “Laskerism flourished because the right people were in place at the right time.”
In the absence of national health insurance, medical research was to be the main safeguard of the health of the American people. Yet Lasker’s faith in the power of science to stamp out disease surpassed the ability of researchers to develop new treatments. Nevertheless, predictions of the research lobby’s demise proved premature. Lasker’s political argument that support of biomedical research would in the long run pay large dividends in longevity and productivity for all Americans remained compelling even during the economic and political troubles of the 1970s, and gained new currency with the decoding of the human genome in the 1990s.
Mary Lasker was one of the great philanthropists in New York City. The cherry trees on Roosevelt Island were a small part of her efforts. This NY Times article from 1974 describes her efforts at beautifying the city.
By Enid Nemy • April 28, 1974
Mary Lasker: Still Determined To Beautify the City and Nation
Mary Lasker, a soft‐spoken philanthropist who thinks in grand terms, over the years has contributed hundreds of thousands of daffodils, azaleas, tulips, chrysanthemums, flowering shrubs and trees to the city. She has also watched a good portion of them wilt and disappear, through indifference, neglect and inadequate supervision.
She is she said, a “frustrated” citizen. Frustrated she may be, but the woman who has been called “Primavera in an asphalt desert” hasn’t given up the battle to beautify the city and the nation. It isn’t her only concern—her front‐line effort is reserved for medical research (“You have to be alive to enjoy flowers”) — but Mrs. Lasker’s reserves are formidable. “What I’ve done has really been an act of despair on my part,” she said, sitting in a tree‐framed, flowerfilled room of her East Side townhouse. “It’s not adequate or sufficient.” It never will be adequate or sufficient unless governments — city, state, and Federal — find a dynamic person to act as a catalyst and step in with “big” plans, she added, leafing through one of her many fat leatherbound albums illustrating plantings throughout the country.
Mrs. Lasker, the widow of the Chicago advertising magnate, Albert D. Lasker, and a top‐notch button‐holer and lobbyist for a dazzling number of causes, has put herself out of the running for that particular job. “Im too busy doing something about the matter of surviving,” she said. “… I’m yery good on what we don’t know in medicine… it’s not the will of God, it’s the dumbness of man, and the lack of enterprise and money that’s the problem.” A small part of the problem is being helped by the Albert and Mary. Lasker Foundation, which she and her husband established in 1942.
Half of Mr. Lasker’s residual estate, estimated in excess of $11‐million, was willed to the foundation after, his death of cancer in 1952. The foundation supports medical research, presents annual awards in basic research and clinical studies, and gives awards for outstanding medical reporting.
Mrs. Lasker’s priorities have remained constant since her marriage to her late husband in 1940 (an earlier marriage, to Paul Reinhardt, an art dealer, ended in 1934). During their courtship, Mr. Lasker asked her what she wanted to do most in life. “I want to push the idea of health insurance, and promote research in cancer, tuberculosis and other major diseases,” she said.
Friends are still apt to relate a story about the early days of the marriage when Mrs. Lasker was asked by her husband what would make her happy. “Just fill the house with fresh flowers every day,” she said, He did. A veteran of countless boards and committees‐ involved in medical, charitable and beautification work, Mrs. Lasker is on none of the committees for the country’s bicentennial. “I don’t want to be,” she said emphatically, but as Agatha Christie would put it, her “little gray cells” have been at work.
Mrs. Lasker, herself, probably wouldn’t admit to gray cells; she disapproves of depressing colors. Her 7½story house, facing the East River, is a landscape of impressionist paintings, crystal, silver, inscribed photographs, all of it set in a snowstorm of white, white and more white — walls, carpets, furniture. The cells, no matter the color, have come up with a practical idea for a national anniversary tribute. Practical, in Mrs. Lasker’s vocabulary, means permanent and beautiful “I’m not against learned tracts and giving parties… banquets, tableaux, charades and parades,” she said, looking at once doubtful but amenable to accepting another point of view,
“But I “Politicians don’t understand that people are lonely, depressed and deprived for lack of oxygen and pleasure in green leaves and flowers in big cities.” think we should do something to permanently improve our country.” The bright blue eyes shadowed a little, but nothing could dim the pink and white complexion, as she continued: “It’s hard to get through to politicians.” “Politicians,” she elaborated, “don’t understand that people are lonely, depressed and deprived for lack of oxygen and pleasure in green leaves and flowers in big cities.”
Some of her current suggestions include planting. the highway entrances to New York, including the Major Deegan Parkway, the West Side Highway and the Harlem River Drive, planting daffodils, azaleas and flowering cherries and pears in the parks, and planting trees “all over.” “It’s a simple thought to celebrate—and people feel so resentful by the coldness, the steeliness of cities.”
Mrs. Lasker’s simple thoughts are rarely inexpensive but, she suggested, taken in the context of city and industrial budgets, the cost would not be prohibitive. “It would take about $12‐million to plant all of Manhattan with trees . .. we’d need about 90,000 to 100,000,” she estimated. “That’s nothing for a city with a budget of $10‐ to $12‐billion … and maybe the corporations would give big gifts to see the city planted. It makes sense financially, it would help real estate values.” She hoped, too, that public‐spirited, wealthy individuals would contribute but, she said, with a voice of experience, she would not do the asking. “My husband always said don’t try to raise money from other people — get it from government — and give what you can yourself. If you get private funds, you are constantly in the position of exchanging money with friends — you know, ‘I supported your interest, now you support mine.’”
However, she added, hastily, there was no reason why individuals couldn’t plant ivy around trees, or telephone the Parks Commissioner with indications of interest, or offers of help, no matter how small. About six years ago, Mrs. Lasker gave Central Park 300,000 daffodils and planted 10,000 daffodils and 350 cherry trees along the West Side Highway. Some of the flowers were cut too quickly and many of the trees were left unpruned and untended. “The Wagner Administration was receptive to the plantings we did,” she reflected. “The Lindsay Administration was unwilling to continue… they thought I should not only give the flowers but help with the maintenance.”
The tribulations—and Mrs. Lasker still looks a little forlorn and peeved about them — didn’t pemanently damage her esprit. The 73‐year‐old woman who left Watertown, Wis., more than half a century ago for Radcliffe, Oxford and New York, can still remember the trees, flowers and fresh air of her hometown. Her own childhood, with a mother who loved and founded parks, enables her now to make excuses for less fortunate children. “They shouldn’t do that,” she will say as she comes across a photograph of youngsters walking over the daffodils in Central Park. “But it is lovely to walk in flowers.”
Mrs. Lasker said that she had already asked Mayor Beame to plant the city streets. “He said he didn’t have the money… he can’t do everything he’d like to do.” But she has contributed 20,000 tulips to Park Avenue this year, in honor of Mrs. Enid Haupt, a well‐known amateur horticulturist (who herself planted 150 cherry trees on Park Avenue and around various churches and hospitals). And she joined her stepchildren in giving hundreds of azaleas, 10,000 daffodils and 300 cherry trees to United Nations Park, in memory of her husband.
Despite her love of flowers, Mrs. Lasker admits that her own skill at gardening leaves something to be desired. “I’m a planner,” she said. Was she not also a power — one of the most powerful women in the country? “Powerful? I don’t know.” She thought for a moment. “No, if I were really powerful, I’d have gotten more done.”
CONFERENCE ROOM AT TATA INNOVATION CENTER, CORNELL TECH
EDITORIAL
I have see the the plaque about the cherry trees on the island many times. Looking into the NIH website, I discovered the history of Mary Lasker at the NIH. It is fascinating how individuals can work for the better good. There is a continuation of the story and this is the link for more reading: https://profiles.nlm.nih.gov/spotlight/tl/feature/bench
JUDITH BERDY
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
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Sunswick Creek is a buried stream located in Astoria and Long Island City, in the northwestern portion of Queens in New York City. It originated to the north of Queensboro Bridge and Queens Plaza in Long Island City, flowing north to the present-day site of the Socrates Sculpture Park in Astoria, and emptying into the East River. The creek was named for a term in the Algonquin language that likely means “Woman Chief” or “Sachem’s Wife.” The mouth of the creek was settled in the late 17th century by William Hallet, who built a milldam at the creek’s mouth to create a mill pond. Due to industrialization in Long Island City, the creek became heavily polluted and was covered-over starting in the late 19th century.
ABOVE 1840 MAP
When it comes to western Queens history, my leading source is Bob Singleton and the Greater Astoria Historical Society. From its collection, the earliest map showing Sunswick Creek dates to 1780. Beneath Hell Gate, the elevated knob of land is the Astoria peninsula and to its south is Sunswick Creek. This map is a true GIS treasure as it also displays other hidden waterways that I’ve written about including: Dutch Kills, Luyster Creek, Jackson’s Mill Pond, Flushing Creek, Horse Brook, Kissena Creek, and Newtown Creek. notice how the colonial period roads often ran atop watershed boundaries to avoid being flooded. The sources of streams flowing away from each other often originated from the same hilltops, for example Horse Brook and Maspeth Creek; Dutch Kills and Jackson’s Mill Creek. No wonder at the turn of the 20th century there were canal proposals to connect streams whose headwaters were so close to each other.
Looking at an 1840 map of where Sunswick Creek flowed into Hallets Cove, we see a mill pond dammed by Vernon Boulevard. The mill was constructed in 1679, and rebuilt in 1753 by Capt. Jacob Blackwell and Joseph Hallett. The former owned Roosevelt Island while the latter owned land on the Astoria side of the East River. In its early years, the milldam opened for small boats that carried goods from the farms of John Greenoak, John McDonnaugh and George Van Alst, which stood alongside the creek. Van Alst is not forgotten: his last name graced 21st Avenue until the 1930, still appears on a local playground and a subway station. His descendants lived in the area into the early 20th century.
The star on the above map corresponds to today’s corner of Broadway and 12th Street, which at the time was Grant Thorburn’s Nursery. Thorburn (1772–1863) had emigrated to America in 1794 as a nailmaker. As automation killed his job, he turned his shop into a grocery, and in 1834, a flower nursery. His busy mail-order enterprise won Thorburn the honor of doubling as the postmaster of a new Hallett’s Cove Post Office. Thorburn wrote a book about his life entitled “Reminiscences” that tells us of his gardens and life in the village.
COURSE
Prior to its burial, Sunswick Creek’s source was located close to 21st Street north of what is now the Queensboro Bridge and Queens Plaza, within the Long Island City subsection of Ravenswood. The creek passed north near the current site of the Queensbridge Houses and the Ravenswood Generating Station, roughly following the present path of 21st Street.[1]:96 A large city block, now the site of the Long Island City High School, marks the former above-ground course of the creek. Sunswick Creek drained into the East River near the present Socrates Sculpture Park in Astoria.
Etymology
The term “Sunswick” was a neighborhood name formerly applied to the surrounding portions of Ravenswood and Astoria. It is believed to have originated from a Native American language, possibly the Algonquin word “Sunkisq.”[2] The Greater Astoria Historical Society defines the term as “meaning perhaps ‘Woman Chief’ or ‘Sachem’s Wife.'”This name is shared by Sunswick 3535, a bar at the intersection of 35th Street and 35th Avenue.[1]:98 Additionally, the present-day 22nd Street was formerly named Sunswick Street.
17th through 19th centuries
In 1664, the land on the northern shore of the creek’s mouth was purchased by British settler William Hallet (or Hallett), who obtained the plot from two native chiefs named Shawestcont and Erramorhar.:84 This peninsula, which jutted out onto Hell Gate to the northwest, was acquired in portions and was later renamed Hallet’s Cove.[5]:84[6]:295 Hallet subsequently built a lime kiln on the creek. Sunswick Creek formed a navigable waterway with Dutch Kills, another stream to the south, making it easy for merchants to transport produce and goods along the creek. :19 A milldam was built at the mouth of the creek in 1679, creating a small mill pond :4 Joseph Hallett and Jacob Blackwell built a mill on the creek’s right bank, near its mouth, in 1753.[6]:296 By the 1860s and 1870s, Sunswick Creek was heavily polluted due to increasing industrialization, a lack of proper sewerage, and the high population density of Long Island City and Astoria.
The historian Vincent F. Seyfried wrote that disease around Sunswick Creek and Dutch Kills had become common by 1866, and that “The damming of the Sunswick Creek cut off the flushing-out of the meadow lands and the salt water that used to ebb and flow became stagnant and slimy and filled with mosquitoes.” After outbreaks of disease in 1871 and 1875, the marshes surrounding the creek were drained in 1879. In addition, Long Island City had started building a proper sewage system in the 1870s, which was still not complete by the time Long Island City became part of the City of Greater New York in 1898.:5 The creek was partially diverted into one of the sewage system’s brick tunnels at Broadway, which was completed around 1893.
After the consolidation of Queens into New York City, Sunswick Meadows, a lowland north of the present Queensboro Bridge, was infilled with the construction of the bridge in the 1900s and 1910s. This was accomplished partly by dumping dirt from the excavation of New York City Subway tunnels in Manhattan. In addition, street cleaners tossed dry rubbish into the lowland to raise the grade of nearby streets. In 1915, residents of Ravenswood sent a letter to the New York City Board of Health to complain about the tide gates along Sunswick Creek, which had been installed to alleviate an infestation of mosquitoes.
The residents claimed that the tide gates were actually keeping mosquitoes in the creek, since these gates resulted in stagnant water, and threatened to open the tide gates. In response, the Board of Health suggested filling up their land, which the Brooklyn Times-Union reported would require the infilling of 6 acres (2.4 ha) to a depth of 8 to 10 feet (2.4 to 3.0 m). The operation had a projected total cost of over $100,000 (equivalent to $2,527,303 in 2019), which was not affordable for most of the neighborhood’s residents. Early the next year, in April 1916, residents broke down the barriers with axes. Afterward, the New York City health commissioner told a local newspaper that the residents “prefer to live like hogs,” prompting outrage from local residents
Afterward, the Queens borough president, Maurice E. Connolly, announced a plan to install two tide gates on the creek. By the end of 1916, the New York City government proposed to close up Sunswick Creek, mandating that households living nearby divert their sewage elsewhere. A 1920 Brooklyn Daily Eagle article stated that the former path of the creek had been mostly developed with industrial buildings During excavations for a sewer line at Vernon Boulevard and Broadway in 1957, construction workers found remnants of the former grist mill on the creek’s mouth.
The creek now exists underground as part of a sewage tunnel, which was documented online by urban explorer Steven Duncan.[1]:97[19] According to one blogger, during heavy rains, the creek could be heard near the Sohmer and Company Piano Factory, across from Socrates Sculpture Park.[20] In 2011 and 2012, the Socrates Sculpture Park and Noguchi Museum commissioned a work from artist Mary Miss, entitled Ravenswood/CaLL, which consisted of several signs and mirrors along the course of the creek.
WEDNESDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY Seven of our neighbors recognized the walkway on the 17th and 19th floors of Rivercross
EDITORIAL
I have heard about the Sunswick Creek for ages and it is a complicated story of this meandering underground waterway from Queens Plaza to the Socrates Sculpture Park. Enjoy the story of how are predecessors used and abused the waterway. I was offered a tour of the tunnel leading from the creek, at one point and gracefully declined. What did I miss?
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society WIKIPEDIA (C) GREATER ASTORIA HISTORICAL SOCIETY (C) unless otherwise indicated
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Leather handstrap from original tram cabin and wheel from mechanical part of original tram
EDITORIAL
The 1950’s seem to be so glamorous in the year 2020.Looking back, it was a tough time for women and there was an abundance of new postwar innovations but still mom was home cooking and cleaning most days.
You will notice dad is nowhere to be seen. He was on the easy chair, reading the newspaper, feet up and dog asleep at his side.
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated PHOTOS COPYRIGHT GHILA KRATJZMAN (c) FUNDING PROVIDED BY ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE GRANTS CITY COUNCIL REPRESENTATIVE BEN KALLOS DISCRETIONARY FUNDING THRU DYCD
Think about your childhood where little girls and little boys played in separate areas of the school yard.
Girls had hopscotch, which has recently been revived on Roosevelt Island, along with jump rope and cat’s cradle
The ever present hula-hoop of 1957.
47 dangerous old playgrounds that our great-grandparents somehow from Click Americana (c)
How many can slide down at once?
Before composites, rubber padding and any kind of protection, the playground was a “free-for-all.”
Remember the slides, shiny metal and burning hot in the sunshine.
The Jungle Jim
The seesaw, another favorite. just hold on real tight
You spin me right round (1925) On the Medart Ocean Wave (“With an Undulating and Wavelike Motion”) you could sit facing in or out — or stand — on this spinner from the mid-’20s. It just depended on whether you wanted to throw up on bystanders, or the other people on the ride with you.
The description says this comes from a school for the blind
Knee boo boos were an everyday occurrence.
TUESDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY
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MONDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY
CORNERSTONE ON FORMER GOLDWATER STEAM PLANT. STARETT VAN YLECK ARCHITECTS 1936
Go out and play was the instructions kids of the 50’s received from mom. I remember some of the playground equipment illustrated here. I think I mastered cat’s cradle and Hopscotch
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff FUNDING PROVIDED BY: ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION THRU PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDING
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Walgreens began in 1901, with a small food front store on the corner of Bowen and Cottage Grove Avenues in Chicago, owned by Galesburg native Charles R. Walgreen. By 1913, Walgreens had grown to four stores on Chicago’s South Side. It opened its fifth in 1915 and four more in 1916. By 1919, there were 20 stores in the chain. As a result of alcohol prohibition, the 1920s were a successful time for Walgreens. Although alcohol was illegal, prescription whiskey was available and sold by Walgreens.
In 1922 the company introduced a malted milkshake, which led to its establishing ice cream manufacturing plants. The next year, Walgreen began opening stores away from residential areas. In the mid 1920s, there were 44 stores with annual sales of $1,200,000 combined. Walgreens had also expanded by then into Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. By 1930 it had 397 stores with annual sales of US$4,000,000.
This expansion partly was attributed to selling prescribed alcohol, mainly whiskey, which Walgreen often stocked under the counter, as accounted in Daniel Okrent’s Last Call: The Rise and Fall of Prohibition. The stock market crash in October 1929 and the subsequent Great Depression did not greatly affect the company. By 1934, Walgreens was operating in 30 states with 601 stores. After Charles Walgreen Sr. died in 1939, his son Charles R. Walgreen Jr. took over the chain until his retirement. The Charles R. Walgreen (Walgreen Jr.) years were relatively prosperous, but lacked the massive expansion seen in the early part of the century. Charles “Cork” R. Walgreen III took over after Walgreen Jr.’s retirement in the early 1950s and modernized the company by switching to barcode scanning. The Walgreen family was not involved in senior management of the company for a short time following Walgreen III’s retirement.
More Discreet than Duane Reade signage
REXALL
In 1903, Louis K. Liggett persuaded 40 independent drug stores to invest $4,000 in a retailers’ cooperative called United Drug Stores, which sold products under the Rexall name. After World War I, the cooperative established a franchise arrangement whereby independently owned retail outlets adopted the Rexall trade name and sold Rexall products. The company was based in Boston.
Rexall Train Postcard photo of the Rexall Train
The Rexall Train of March to November 1936 toured the United States and Canada to promote Rexall drug store products, and to provide the equivalent of a national convention for local Rexall druggists without the cost of travel. Free tickets for locals to see displays of Rexall products were available at local Rexall drug stores. The 29,000 mile tour visited 47 of the 48 contiguous states (omitting Nevada) and parts of Canada. The blue-and-white train of 12 air-conditioned Pullman cars with displays in 4 cars, convention facilities in 4 cars and a dining car was hauled by a streamlined 4-8-2 Mohawk locomotive, No. 2783 from the New York Central Railroad. It was the million-dollar brainchild of Louis Liggett, who travelled in the rear observation car. Justin Whitlock Dart, formerly of the Walgreens drugstore chain, took control of Boston-based United Drug Company in 1943. The chain operated under the Liggett, Owl, Sonta, and Rexall brands, which Dart rebranded under the Rexall name. Rexall gained national exposure through its sponsorship of two famous classic American radio programs of the 1940s and 1950s: Amos and Andy and The Phil Harris-Alice Faye Show. Both shows were often opened by an advertisement from an actor (Griff Barnett) portraying “your Rexall family druggist”, and included the catch phrase “Good health to all from Rexall.” They also sponsored the Jimmy Durante Show and references are made by the character Mr. Peavey in some of The Great Gildersleeve radio shows. Rexall also sponsored Richard Diamond, Private Detective starring Dick Powell from April 1950 until Camel replaced Rexall as the sponsor after the December 6, 1950, broadcast.
C.O. Bigelow Apothecaries
Bigelow is on Sixth Avenue
THE HISTORY OF C.O. BIGELOW OUR APOTHECARY, OUR LEGACY Nestled in the tiny neighborhood of Greenwich Village in New York City, C.O. Bigelow is the oldest apothecary in America. For nearly two centuries we have served some of the country’s most predominant personalities and have remained true to our traditions, transporting customers back to a time and place of personalized attention, customized formulas and healing therapeutic natural preparations.
Caswell-Massey
Caswell-Massey, founded in 1752, is the first fragrance and personal care product company in America. Originally, Caswell Massey started as an apothecary shop in Newport, Rhode Island, by a Scottish-born doctor named William Hunter. The main product categories include fine-fragrance, soap, bath & body products, men’s shaving products and toiletries, other assorted apothecary-style personal care accessories. Its products are preferred favorites of notable historical figures such as: JFK, George Washington, Cole Porter, Alla Nazimova, John Denver, and The Rolling Stones. The company is regarded as the fourth-oldest continuously operating company in America and the oldest American consumer brand in operation. The current motto of is “America’s Original”.
Kiehl’s
Founded in 1851 by John Kiehl, Kiehl’s began as a homeopathic pharmacy located in New York City‘s East Village: 3rd Avenue and 13th Street. In 1921 Irving Morse, a former apprentice and Russian Jewish émigré who had studied pharmacology at Columbia University, purchased the store. Morse was involved in developing many of Kiehl’s products that are still popular today; including Blue Astringent Herbal Lotion and Creme de Corps. Irving’s son, Aaron Morse, who also studied pharmacology at Columbia University and was a former World War II pilot, took over the store in the 1960s.
The younger Morse was credited for propelling Kiehl’s from obscurity in the 1950s to international recognition in the 1980s as an upscale natural cosmetics shop. Aaron transitioned the store from traditional pharmaceuticals towards skin care lines. After Aaron‘s death in 1995, his desk and some of his vintage motorcycles were prominently showcased in the store.
From 1988 to 2000, Jami Morse Heidegger, Aaron’s daughter, operated Kiehl’s. Maintaining Kiehl’s as a single store, but selling their products through high end retail stores, Morse Heidegger increased Kiehl’s revenue to $40 million. Morse Heidegger achieved this growth by being “a clever marketer”, relying on word of mouth and extensive free samples – and gifts – to market Kiehl’s products, rather than traditional advertising.
SODA FOUNTAINS AT THE DRUG STORE
Being a skinny kid, I remember going to the soda fountain in the local drug store for a malted milk. The malted was great and spinning around on the tall stool was even more fun. Watching the staff make the malted with milk from a mysterious pump, malt from a dispenser and the all Hamilton Beach green mixer. The mixer seemed to take so much time to finish. Then 3 glasses of the luscious beverage!!!
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff All materials in this publication are copyrighted (c)
MORE INFORMATION ON EACH PHARMACY ARE AVAILABLE ON-LINE THRU WIKIPEDIA (C)
MATERIAL COPYRIGHT WIKIPEDIA, GOOGLE IMAGES, RIHS ARCHIVES AND MAY NOT BE REPRODUCED WITHOUT PERMISSION (C)
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THIS IS THE 102nd ISSUE OF FROM THE ARCHIVES JULY 11-12, 2020 WEEKEND EDITION
PARADISO
ON
GOVERNOR’S ISLAND, 2013
PHOTOGRAPHS BY
CHARLES GIRAUDET
CHARACTERS
The PARADISO SERIES
During the summer of 2013, visitors to Governor’s Island in New York city were able to experience the FETE PARADISO, a collection of French amusement rides from the 1880s to the 1950s, a period during which much of the vocabulary of fair design was invented.
The PARADISO SERIES documents the FETE’s dismantling when the myriad parts of the carousels with their population of toy cars, ballerinas, horses, dragons, lions and cartoon characters were moved back to crates and containers to await their next outing.
For four weeks, Charles followed the process as the temporary structures folded themselves back into compact, anonymous containers. Circular structures returned to square boxes, and the objects took on different identities in the gentle chaos that followed their liberation from mandatory gyration.
Charles is interested in how objects and spaces are vehicles for memories, real and imagined. The PARADISO SERIES takes us through an intimate visit to the place where memory and dreams meet.
Thanks to our friend and photographer extraordinaire Charles Giraudet for taking us to the carnival, fair or gathering with wonderful Limonaire Organ music.
You can listen to some of the music linked on YOUTUBE. Just having this joyous music will cheer your day. Imagine being on the fair grounds and enjoying summertime.
Funding Provided by: Roosevelt Island Operating Corporation Public Purpose Funds Council Member Ben Kallos City Council Discretionary Funds thru DYCD Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff ALL PHOTOS COPYRIGHT RIHS. 2020 (C) ALL PHOTOS COPYRIGHT CHARLES GIRAUDET 2013 (C) ALL PHOTOS IN THIS ISSUE (C) JUDITH BERDY RIHS
Before the age of social media, posters were a primary form of visual communication meant to catch the public’s eye even if just for a fleeting moment. Like today’s tweets, posters have limited amount of room for text and must effectively convey a concise message to an audience that does not have the time or attention span to read while on the go. And like tweets, posters have the added benefit of allowing for a dominant image to help convey a message in visual form.
TUBERCULOSIS
Tuberculosis, an infectious disease affecting the lungs, and described in a 2018 article in The Lancet as, “the number one cause of death from infectious disease globally,” saw a wide-variety of posters distributed with imagery meant to elicit an emotional or fearful response from the viewer, therefore leaving a lasting impression that would lead to good health hygiene. Illustration of a human hand choking a snake. Venom drips from the snake’s open mouth. Il Faut Vaincre la Tuberculose Comme le Plus Malfaisant des Reptiles, poster, 1918 National Library of Medicine #101439371 Primary image is a photograph of a baby. On either side of image is a Cross of Lorraine Protect Them From Tuberculosis, poster, 1930 National Library of Medicine #101453758 The French poster here created in 1918 by the American Tuberculosis Preservation Commission in France features a menacing illustration of a human hand choking a cobra, while venom drips from the snake’s open mouth. The poster warns that tuberculosis must be battled as the most harmful of reptiles. The poster, “Protect Them from Tuberculosis,” created in the United States in 1930 prominently features a baby, creating an emotional appeal to the viewer to protect a vulnerable population from the deadly disease.
INFLUENZA
Tuberculosis, an infectious disease affecting the lungs, and described in a 2018 article in The Lancet as, “the number one cause of death from infectious disease globally,” saw a wide-variety of posters distributed with imagery meant to elicit an emotional or fearful response from the viewer, therefore leaving a lasting impression that would lead to good health hygiene. Illustration of a human hand choking a snake. Venom drips from the snake’s open mouth. Il Faut Vaincre la Tuberculose Comme le Plus Malfaisant des Reptiles, poster, 1918 National Library of Medicine #101439371 Primary image is a photograph of a baby. On either side of image is a Cross of Lorraine Protect Them From Tuberculosis, poster, 1930 National Library of Medicine #101453758 The French poster here created in 1918 by the American Tuberculosis Preservation Commission in France features a menacing illustration of a human hand choking a cobra, while venom drips from the snake’s open mouth. The poster warns that tuberculosis must be battled as the most harmful of reptiles. The poster, “Protect Them from Tuberculosis,” created in the United States in 1930 prominently features a baby, creating an emotional appeal to the viewer to protect a vulnerable population from the deadly disease.
AIDS
In 1981 the first known cases of AIDS were reported in the United States. The disease swiftly circled the globe, leaving in its wake a profound sense of fear and negative social stigma among those who were diagnosed with AIDS. A lack of knowledge about the disease coupled with the fact that there was no cure, lead to myths and misinformation being spread, which served to propagate public panic and bigotry amidst a rapidly increasing number of AIDS-related deaths. No one knew what caused the disease, how to prevent it, or if they were immune. Illustration of a syringe. The top of the plunger is a skull and crossbones. Title to right of illustration. Don’t Share Needles, Don’t Get Stuck with AIDS, poster, 1988. National Library of Medicine #101438836 Two men are embracing each other. One is holding an unopened condom between his fingers. Men of the 90’s. Top, Bottom, Both. Do the Safe Thing, poster, ca. 1990. National Library of Medicine #101452097 Targeted posters for the gay community and IV drug users, two of the highest risk populations, became prevalent in the 1980s as more was discovered about how the disease was spread. Posters educated individuals on how to protect themselves without stifling or discriminating against their lifestyles. The first poster, “Don’t Share Needles,” does not preach to drug users to stop using needles, but rather instructs not to share them. The skull and crossbones at the top of the syringe suggests dire consequences if risky behavior continues. The poster, “Men of the 90’s,” promotes the use of condoms while visually celebrating the gay lifestyle. Crayon-like drawing of a child standing amid flowers. The child’s arms are stretched out as if asking for a hug I Have AIDS, Please Hug Me, poster, 1987 National Library of Medicine #101451779 Posters were also aimed at the general public to debunk myths about how the disease was spread. A common myth in the early days of the AIDS crisis was that the disease could be spread by touching or being in the same room as an AIDS patient. The poster, “I Have AIDS, Please Hug Me,” seeks to discredit this notion by showing a child’s self-portrait drawn in crayon stating “I have AIDS.” The child’s arms are outstretched asking for a hug, and unequivocally adding, “I can’t make you sick.”
POLIO
WHOOPING COUGH RECENTLY RETURNING
West African Ebola Between 2014 and 2016 West African Ebola claimed the lives of over 11,000 people in 10 countries, in what became the largest Ebola virus epidemic in history. A series of public health posters were created during the outbreak meant to dispel rumors about how the disease was spread. The posters below were created as part of a campaign to show support for health-workers and Doctors Without Borders who risked their lives to treat patients of the deadly disease.
FRIDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY SEND YOUR ENTRY TO
THURSDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY
1940’S PHOTO OF GOLDWATER HOSPITAL TERRACE WITH THE BARBER GIVING A HAIRCUT AND VISITORS ENJOYING THE OUT-OF-DOOR AREA ADJACENT TO THE WARDS. The winner is JAY JACOBSON, ALEXIS VILLEFANE, BONNIE WALDMAN
EDITORIAL
This edition is part of a longer publication of CIRCULATING NOW by Ginny Roth. Ginny A. Roth is the Curator of Prints & Photographs in the History of Medicine Division at the National Library of Medicine.
We have a phenomenal resource for medical information and history; THE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE of the National Institute of Health. Located in Bethesda, Maryland the NLM has an amazing collection of medical, historical and reference material that can be used by the public. Last year I visited the NLM and met with staff and historians, Jeffrey S. Reznick, Ph.D. Chief of the History of Medicine Division and Stephen Greenberg, MSLS, PhD Librarian and archivist.
CIRCULATING NOW is an online publication that features articles on medical and scientific history The website is: https://www.nlm.nih.gov/hmd/index.html
JUDITH BERDY
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
FUNDING PROVIDED BY ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE GRANTS CITY COUNCIL REPRESENTATIVE BEN KALLOS DISCRETIONARY FUNDING THRU DYCD
100 issues, 100 people, more-or-less how do we see our community? Some of those who have lived here for years or just months. Some are thriving and living active social lives, some are retires, some are not here anymore. Some are fondly remembered Some were joiners, coming to every event. Some worked here and left or many just vanished with no explanation, (many whisked off by the RIOC Drone). Some have served the community, serving as an officer or cook-doing for friends and neighbors. Some are artists and visionaries while others make us think of past and future. Some were critters, 4 legged loyal friends Some are our future, adventures in learning, giving and sharing. All are Roosevelt Island
Judith Berdy
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society RON CRAWFORD (C) unless otherwise indicated
FUNDING PROVIDED BY ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPORE GRANTS CITY COUNCIL REPRESENTATIVE BEN KALLOS DISCRETIONARY FUNDING THRU DYCD
