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FROM THE ARCHIVES
SEPTEMBER 18-19, 2021
The 472nd Edition
Two mystery initials on a 125th Street building reveal a former department store
from Ephemeral New York
Sometimes the ghosts of New York City put clues about Gotham’s past right under your nose
That’s what happened on a recent walk down busy 125th Street, between Seventh and Lenox Avenues. On an empty building partially hidden behind scaffolding and a blue tarp are two letters, entwined like a logo: KC.
The initials can be seen from the sidewalk, and they pose the question: What’s KC?
Turns out these initials stand for Koch & Co., a once-heralded department store with its roots in the city’s Gilded Age, when mass consumerism was born and the idea of shopping for leisure took hold.
Henry C.F. Koch, an immigrant from Germany, founded his eponymous emporium with his father-in-law in 1860, according to Walter Grutchfield. Their first store opened at Carmine and Bleecker Streets, then made the jump the Sixth Avenue and 20th Street in 1875.
At the time, the Sixth Avenue location put Koch & Co. squarely in New York’s burgeoning Ladies Mile Shopping District, which roughly spanned Broadway to Sixth Avenue and 10th Street to 23rd Street.
Koch & Co.’s competition on Ladies Mile would have been B. Altman’s on Sixth and 19th Street, Hugh O’Neill & Co. on Sixth and 21st, and Macy’s at Sixth and 14th Street. These and other department stores sold everything from fashion to furniture to food to women who were free to browse and buy without being accompanied by male escort, as was the usual custom at the time.
In 1892, perhaps taking note of population shifts and the elevated railroads that opened uptown Manhattan to residential development, Koch relocated his store to a new building at 125th Street.
“At that time the street was residential in nature, and H. C. F. Koch & Co. were pioneers in leading the changes that converted 125th St. into a shopping street,” Grutchfield wrote.
Koch & Co. certainly got good press. In a New York Times article from 1893, a reporter wrote: “The great store of H.C.F. Koch Co. in One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street, between Lenox and Seventh Avenues, is, par excellence, the emporium of the far uptown district, and consequently the announcement of its Fall opening is attracting thousands of buyers and seekers after the styles of the season.”
Still, it may have been hard at first to lure shoppers so far uptown, as this ad in The New York Times (above) from 1893 hints. Koch himself had moved to Lenox Avenue, and in 1900 he died, passing the business to his sons.
The department store continued until 1930, when it was bought out and closed. The stately building remains, with those CK initials and the name “Koch and Co” carved in stone high above the cornice.
Ephemeralnewyork | September 16, 2021 at 1:20 am | Tags: 125th Street history, 125th Street Old Photos, Department Store 125th Street, Department Stores in NYC, Koch & Co Department Store, Ladies Mile New York City | Categories: Defunct department stores, Fashion and shopping, Upper Manhattan | URL: https://wp.me/pec9m-9bg
EMERGENCY EXIT FROM E TRAIN LINE SOUTH OF STRECKER LABORATORY ANDY SPARBERG AND STEPHEN BLANK GOT IT!
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EPHEMERAL NEW YORK
JUDITH BERDY
Edited by Deborah Dorff ALL PHOTOS COPYRIGHT RIHS. 2020 (C) PHOTOS IN THIS ISSUE (C) JUDITH BERDY RIHS
Born in Lausanne, Switzerland,[1] Steinlen studied at the University of Lausanne before taking a job as a designer trainee at a textile mill in Mulhouse in eastern France. In his early twenties he was still developing his skills as a painter when he and his wife Emilie were encouraged by the painter François Bocion to move to the artistic community in the Montmartre Quarter of Paris.[2] Once there, Steinlen was befriended by the painter Adolphe Willette who introduced him to the artistic crowd at Le Chat Noir that led to his commissions to do poster art for the cabaret owner/entertainer, Aristide Bruant and other commercial enterprises.
Café à Léon (1921)
In the early 1890s, Steinlen’s paintings of rural landscapes, flowers, and nudes were being shown at the Salon des Indépendants. His 1895 lithograph titled Les Chanteurs des Rues was the frontispiece to a work entitled Chansons de Montmartre published by Éditions Flammarion with sixteen original lithographs that illustrated the Belle Époque songs of Paul Delmet. Five of his posters were published in Les Maîtres de l’Affiche.
His permanent home, Montmartre and its environs, was a favorite subject throughout Steinlen’s life and he often painted scenes of some of the harsher aspects of life in the area. His daughter Colette was featured in much of his work.[3] In addition to paintings and drawings, he also did sculpture on a limited basis, most notably figures of cats that he had great affection for as seen in many of his paintings.[2] Steinlen included cats in many of his illustrations, and even published a book of his designs, “Dessins Sans Paroles Des Chats.”[4]
In “Compagnie Française des Chocolats et des Thès,” Steinlen includes his wife and daughter in the illustration.
Recumbent Cat
Steinlen became a regular contributor to Le Rire and Gil Blas magazines plus numerous other publications including L’Assiette au Beurre and Les Humouristes, a short-lived magazine he and a dozen other artists jointly founded in 1911.[5] Between 1883 and 1920, he produced hundreds of illustrations, a number of which were done under a pseudonym so as to avoid political problems because of their harsh criticisms of societal ills. His art influenced the work of other artists, including Pablo Picasso
Théophile Steinlen died in 1923 in Paris and was buried in the Cimetière Saint-Vincent in Montmartre. Today, his works can be found at many museums around the world including at the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia. and the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., United States. A stone monument by Pierre Vannier was created for Steinlen in 1936; it is located in Square Joël Le Tac in Paris.[7]
THE WELFARE ISLAND BRIDGE There was no Main Street when the bridge opened in 1957.
This was the original Welfare Island entrance and exit ramp. At that time, there was no Main Street. All traffic was one way on the peripheral roads. When you entered the island, you went north on the Manhattan side of the island toward Coler. If you wanted to go to Goldwater you had to make a turn on one of the cross island roads, go to the road on the Queens side of the island and travel south. In this photo you can also see the FDNY training site, which used to occupy the site on Welfare Island before it was moved to Randall’s Island. The large concrete globes in front of the Visitor’s Center came from the FDNY site.
#THANKS, ED LITCHER FOR THE ABOVE GLORIA HERMAN, NINA LUBLIN AND ALEXIS VILLAFANE GOT IT RIGHT!
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
WIKIPEDIA
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Under neon billboards only the bones of Cyrus Eidlitz’s Italian Renaissance Times Building survive. photo by TastyPoutine
Until the last years of the 19th century New York’s newspapers were centered on Park Row, knicknamed “Newspaper Row,” in lower Manhattan. James Gordon Bennett, Jr. made a gutsy decision in 1893 to abandon the newspaper district and following the northward expansion of commerce. He leased the triangular plot of land at the intersection of Broadway and 6th Avenue, between 35th and 36th Streets—an oddly shaped piece of land that would become Herald Square. A decade later The New York Times would follow, going even further uptown. At the turn of the century Longacre Square was somewhat overlooked. The center of Manhattan’s carriage building industry, it was named after Long Acre in London—that city’s carriage center. But the nearby Grand Central train station on 42nd Street and the proposed Pennsylvania Station on 34th spelled doom for the old buildings of Longacre Square. Already theaters had begun moving here from the 23rd Street entertainment district.
In 1898 the Lyceum Theatre sat at the corner of 42nd Street and Broadway — photo by Byron Company, Valentine’s Manual of New York (copyright expired)
By August 4, 1902, when The New York Times made its surprising announcement, modern hotels and theaters had already begun to dot the urban landscape. Like The Herald, the newspaper had acquired a triangular-shaped plot. It was bounded by Broadway, West 42nd Street, and Seventh Avenue and The Times said it “will at once begin the erection thereon of a large modern steel-construction building, primarily for its own use.” The announcement named Cyrus L. W. Eidlitz, son of influential architect Leopold Eidlitz, as the architect. Most of the plot of land was taken up by the once upscale Pabst Hotel. Otto Strach, one of its architects, put the cost of the building at $225,000 and its interior decorative work at $60,000. The New-York Tribune said of it “The Pabst Hotel prided itself upon its bar and its rathskeller. No money was spared to make both attractive.” But the handsome hotel would have to make way for the 20th century.
In 1902 demolition of the Pabst Hotel began. New-York Tribune, December 7, 1902 (copyright expired)
On June 27, 1903 The Times published the first rendering of its intended building. An article explained to readers that the bulk of the newspaper’s activity would be subterranean—the press and stereotyping rooms, for instance. The newspaper offices would be on the ground floor, the composing room would be high above on the 16th floor, and the 15th floor would house the newspaper’s business offices. The majority of the upper building would be leased. The Times was quick to point out that the “detachment of the site” made possible windows on all sides; a tremendous marketing asset and, in the days before air conditioning and a considerable plus for tenants.
Cyrus L. W. Eidlitz first released the above sketch in 1902. Architects’ and Builders’ Magazine, March 1905 (copyright expired)
Eidlitz designed what would be the second tallest building in Manhattan and drew his inspiration from Giotto’s campanile in Florence. While the Pabst Hotel had faced 42nd Street, looking southward to the city, Adolph Ochs, publisher of The New York Times and Eidlitz realized that the future was to the north. The Times Building would turn its back to 42nd Street and look uptown. Its 375-foot tall tower would diminish the neighboring buildings, and its elaborate decoration would astound. Eidlitz created a five-story base of pink Milford granite above which were 13 floors of sand-blasted, cream colored terra cotta, followed by the impressive tower. As the building rose in 1903, The Times kept readers abreast, reporting on details like the nearly 16 foot ceiling in the main hall and the marble wainscoting. “The doors are to be made of red oak. In every detail of finishing the contractors are to exercise the greatest care in their selections, and their contracts call for the best quality and most advanced designs in every device or appurtenance upon which will depend the comfort of those who occupy the building,” said the newspaper on October 25 that year.
The lobby was clad in heavily veined marble — Architects’ and Builders’ Magazine, March 1905 (copyright expired)
Cyrus L. W. Eidlitz, who worked on the project with his partner Andrew C. McKenzie, proudly stated “And it is well worth noting that not a single piece of the stone in that building has ever touched Manhattan Island.” Early in 1904, as the Times Building neared completion, August Belmont made the suggestion that Longacre Square be renamed Times Square. On April 5 the Board of Alderman met and approved the name change. “There was not a single dissenting voice to the proposition,” reported The Times the following day.
The Times Building included a subway entrance which reflected the elaborate terra cotta treatment of the rest of the facade. The sign for the station is spelled out in electric lights–a foreshadowing of the Times Square to come. Architects’ and Builders’ Magazine, March 1905 (copyright expired) The Italian Renaissance style skyscraper (erroneously termed “Gothic” by The Times) opened in September to critical acclaim. Brooklyn Life newspaper said “The new Times Building across the river offers abundant evidence that if we must have skyscrapers they need not necessarily be ugly.”
The soaring building, second tallest in New York, dwarfed the surrounding structures — photograph George P. Hall & Son, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York
Three months later, on New Year’s Eve, marketing genius Adolph Ochs, set off fireworks from the top of the building. A crowd of about 200,000 people crammed into Times Square to watch. It was just the beginning of a New York tradition involving the Times Building and New Year’s Eve. At the time the problem of keeping one’s pocket watch accurately set was solved worldwide by the time ball. Tall poles which pierced large balls, usually made of copper, were erected on high buildings. Triggered by telegraph signals from an observatory—in New York they came from the U. S. Naval Observatory in Washington D.C.—the balls would drop precisely at noon. Businessmen with craned necks waited for that moment to reset their watched. In 1907 Ochs hatched another plan. He had the newspaper’s chief electrician, Walter F. Palmer, build a electrically-lit time ball that would drop from a flagpole atop the Times Building exactly at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Ochs could have had no inkling of what he had just begun. In 1912 people passing the Times Building miraculously were unscathed when a 150-pound coping stone fell from the 16th floor to the pavement below. “A dozen persons, most of them young girls on their way to lunch from the office buildings in the vicinity were endangered by the falling stone,” reported The Evening World on April 2. The newspaper (which preferred to ignore the renaming of the Square, now eight years old) related the panic of one near-victim. “One man was missed by not more than three feet. As the stone landed right behind him he pulled his hat down on his head and started up through Long Acre Square regardless of traffic. When last seen he was passing Forty-seventh street in the middle of Broadway and going strong.” Along with The New York Times, the building filled with offices like that of the Banking Department of the State of New York on the 6th Floor. In 1914 the department offered “building lots, houses and bungalows at prices which are conceded to be REAL BARGAINS.” Before its move to Hollywood, New York City was still the center of the motion picture industry, and the Advisory Board of Motion Picture Directors had its offices in the building. On July 24, 1918, with Europe embroiled in World War I, The Evening World reported that the Board “wants to produce some pictures which will help in all forms of war work.” James Vincent, Secretary of the Board, requested writers to send their plot ideas to him. “Mr. Vincent says he hopes the country’s best writers will help out along this line.” The ornate Times Building was the anchor of Times Square and visitors from the world over marveled at its noble triangular presence for decades. Inside thousands of employees would come and go; perhaps none of the non-writing personnel quite as remarkable as William White. White was a “husky mechanic who is helping to install new elevators,” according to The Times on September 7, 1947. A Bronx native he had held the job of elevator mechanic for about 12 years. But, as the newspaper said, “There’s no telling where a concert singer will turn up.” And this one turned up singing in a Times Building elevator shaft.
The Irish tenor had been discovered in 1944 on the “Major Bowes Amateur Hour.” Now on October 3, a month after The Times article, he was slated to give a concert in the Carnegie Recital Hall. In 1928 The Times installed its famous “zipper” headliner around the building. The innovative outdoor message board announced breaking news to the passersby with moving headlines. It was one more seed that blossomed into Times Square tradition. The New York Times moved into its new headquarters a block to the west in 1961. The building was purchased by Douglas Leigh and renamed the Allied Chemical Building. He was already famous for his iconic Times Square billboards like the smoking Camel cigarette sign. Leigh commissioned the architectural firm of Smith, Smith, Haines, Lundberg & Waehler to modernize the Edwardian structure. And modernize they did. The firm peeled off the ornate terra cotta and granite façade, replacing it with concrete panels interspersed with flat marble slabs. But the 60s Modern design would eventually be lost to view as well. In March 1995 Lehman Brothers purchased the property for $27.5 million. The financial services firm felt that the rent-producing potential of the building’s exterior outweighed that of the interior. A grid frame was installed over the entire structure to support advertising. Only the ground floor was kept as leasable space. One Times Square was sold in 1997 to the Jamestown Group for $117 million. Today the pie-shaped former Times Building is cocooned in neon advertising. The interior offices and hallways–where New York Times reporters scurried about and where motion picture executives read over war-time screen plays—are dark and deserted. There may be nothing left of Cyrus Eidlitz’s Italian Renaissance skyscraper; but One Times Square lives on in its electric message board and its New Year’s Eve ball drop—ideas of Adolph Ochs more than a century earlier.
ED LITCHER, ALIS VILLAFANE, GLORA HERMAN, NANCY BROWN ALL GOT I RIGHT.
P.S. THIS WEST SIDE OF THE NEW SOUTHPOINT PARK PROJECT IS MUCH MORE SUCCESSFUL AND WELL DONE THAN THE EAST 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 Deborah Dorff All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
DAYTONIAN IN MANHATTAN
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Among the many hundreds of steamboats plying the Hudson River when that waterway served as a primary method of moving people and freight, a few stand out as unusual. The most remarkable of these is perhaps the railroad transports, used to ferry railroad cars.
Also known as train ferries, or car ferries (not to be confused with auto ferries), they were fitted with railway tracks and doors at each end to allow for loading and unloading.
The first train ferries were established in the 1830s in Scotland over the Forth and Clyde Canal, and just a few years later in 1836 the Susquehanna began hauling railroad cars between Havre de Grace and Perryville, in Maryland. The first modern train ferries, with roll-on/roll-off capability for easy transfer of cars, were established in the U.S. in the 1850s. Coming into more widespread use after the Civil War, they were specialty steamers often used in conjunction commuter and long-distance passenger trains.
On the Hudson River, most rail-car ferries for freight were actually car floats, un-powered barges moved by tugboat on the river. There were nearly 20 companies operating car floats around the city of New York in the early 20th century. They operated more than 300 at their peak. The New York Central’s 69th Street Transfer Bridge at Gantry Plaza State Park is a relic of the car float era.
Self-powered train ferries were rarer. In 1876, the Maryland was established between Jersey City and Mott Haven (the Bronx). Two tracks were located on the main deck and onto these were brought drawing room, sleeping and ordinary passenger cars along with baggage, freight, express and mail cars.
Hudson River steamboat historian A. Fred Saunders located a self-powered train ferry operated for a short time at Newburgh, also named Maryland. This boat was smaller than its earlier namesake, but operated in much the same way. A steel hulled side-wheeler built in Wilmington, Delaware, in 1890 for the New England Transfer Co. (part of the New York & New England Railroad), it was sold in 1913 and subsequently used as a dredge.
Another self-powered train ferry had an even shorter stint on the Hudson according to Saunders, whose extensively researched scrapbooks detailing Hudson River steamboats are available online. The Ferdinando Gorges was a steel side-wheeler built at the Bath Iron Works in Maine for the Maine Central Railroad in 1909 with three railroad tracks on the main deck. It ran across the Kennebec River between Bath and Woolwich, but was sold to New Jersey Steamboat Company in 1927, which operated the Peoples Line of night boats known as the Hudson River Night Line. There it was renamed Pioneer, one end was enclosed with doors, and Saunders reports it carried automobiles between New York and Albany (although Troy was also painted on its wheel box).
The Pioneer was sold in 1931 to the Peninsular Ferry Company and used as the first automobile ferry across the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay between Cape Charles and Little Creek. It was purchased by the American Barge Line in 1935, converted to diesel, and operated by them until at least 1943.
The only remaining train ferry on the Hudson is an un-powered car float operation in Upper New York Bay between Jersey City and Brooklyn. Since service ended across what is now the Walkway Over The Hudson at Poughkeepsie in 1974, it’s the only freight rail crossing of the Hudson River below Selkirk, a situation that creates what’s known as the Selkirk Hurdle.
(Another freight railroad bridge across the Hudson near Mechanicville is a testament to that community’s long standing position as a major rail hub, established when the Rensselaer and Saratoga Railroad laid a track there in 1835 that intersected with the Champlain Canal.)
Take a look at more photos of train car ferries and floats here.
THE WOODEN ESCALATOR AT MACY’S ED LITCHER, ALEXIS VILLAFANE AND HARA REISER GOT IT RIGHT
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
Illustrations, from above: the Pioneer; Loading trains on the ferry S.S. Chief Wawatam in Mackinaw, Michigan (used extensively by the New York Central); and two views of the Maryland (photos courtesy A. Fred Saunders scrapbook Catskill Public Library).
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Jackson Heights in the early 20th century was largely rural. Jackson Heights Beautification Group
Garden City Movement: Queens 2
What do Jackson Heights, Forest Hills, Sunnyside and Residence Park, New Rochelle all have in common? They (and a other communities) all reflected the Garden City Movement, a form of urban planning in which self-contained communities contain equal areas of residences, industry, and agriculture, surrounded by “greenbelts.” Ebenezer Howard, a Londoner, dreamed up the idea in 1898. In these Garden Cities, residents would live in harmony with nature and be free from urban stress. Jackson Heights in the early 20th century was largely rural. Jackson Heights Beautification Group
The Garden City Movement
To Howard, the Garden City movement was the solution to the problem of crowded cities that harmed the health and well-being of their citizens. The “Master-Key was to restore the people to the land—that beautiful land of ours, with its canopy of sky, the air that blows upon it, the sun that warms it, the rain and dew that moisten it… [and create] a portal through which, even when scarce ajar, will be seen to pour a flood of light on the problems of intemperance, of excessive toil, of restless anxiety, of grinding poverty….”
Howard’s highly detailed (and rather weirdly) planned Garden City would house 32,000 people on a site of 9,000 acres. The Garden City was not planned as a commuter community. It would be self-sufficient and when it reached full population, another Garden City would be developed nearby. Howard envisaged a cluster of several garden cities as satellites of a central city of 58,000 people, linked by road and rail. What is remarkable about the Garden City movement is that something so odd and utopian could become so successful and have a lasting impact. Earlier utopian experiments were dreamed up by fringe idealists and went belly-up quickly. The Garden City movement, while it too disappeared, still left a lasting legacy in urban planning. In Queens.
Howard’s diagram of autonomous Garden Cities surrounded by countryside, orbiting around a central city
Queens? Yes, Edward A. MacDougall, founder of the Queensboro Corporation (in August 1909), worked with Howard to create the first Garden City community in the United States. The Corporation would develop what was then Trains Meadow. MacDougall renamed the area Jackson Heights, after Jackson Avenue (now Northern Boulevard), the main east-west road at the time. Though the land was not especially known for its elevation, the addition of the term “Heights” echoed the prestige of the neighborhood of Brooklyn Heights and indicated that Jackson Heights was meant to be an exclusive neighborhood.
Jackson Heights in the 1920s, Jackson Heights Beautification Group
In contrast to traditional suburbs of single-family houses, the Queensboro Corporation built upscale apartment buildings distinguished by shared garden spaces. Laurel Court became the nation’s first Garden City apartment, completed in 1918. This was followed in 1919 by the construction of the Linden Court. The two sets of buildings each, separated by a gated garden, included parking spaces with single-story garages, the first Jackson Heights development to do so; a layout that provided light and ventilation to the apartments, as well as fostered a sense of belonging to a community. With abundant land available, all unused space was used for parks and gardens, or for recreational areas that included a golf course.
Linden Court 37-22 85th Street 32 Jackson Heights Queens NY – Linecity – NYC Apartment Rentals and Sales https://www.linecity.com/listing/2163116/Linden-Court-37-22-85th-Street-Jackson-Heights-Queens-NY-Sale
Target customers were middle class New Yorkers who could afford to live in the suburbs. High quality apartments had ornate exteriors and fireplaces, parquet floors, sun rooms and built-in bathtubs with showers.
They were exclusive: A US HUD study of Jackson Heights says that the neighborhood “was envisioned as an exclusive suburb for a native, White, middle-class fleeing a city that was not only crowded, but increasingly culturally diverse. Initially advertised as a ‘restricted residential community,’ Jackson Heights’ early developers specifically barred both Jews and Blacks, by custom and restrictive covenants.”
Jackson Heights could be reached by streetcar and ferry from Manhattan, though this was a lengthy process. While the Queensboro Corporation was influenced by the Garden City Movement, it was still committed to increasing the number of residents many of whom would be commuters. With the arrival of the subway, the planners sought to blend Howard’s Garden City ideals with the needs of an urban neighborhood that was quickly becoming a commuter hub. Inevitably, the influence of the Garden City Movement decreased. In the 1920s, Jackson Heights grew rapidly. In 1923, only 3,800 residents lived there; by 1930, its population was 44,500.
For Edward MacDougall, it was an incredible success, but it wasn’t just the architecture that drew people to Queens. In 1919, the Corporation began pushing another innovation by converting nearly all its apartment buildings from rentals to co-ops. The corporation promised current tenants “the opportunity to buy their apartments for $500 down and mortgage payments of about $52 a month.” The Queensboro Corporation stayed on as the managing agent.
The further expansion of Jackson Heights was hit hard by the 1929 crash. During the 1930s, the golf course was leveled, and, in its place, only one new major building complex, Dunolly Gardens, was built. The opening of Dunolly Gardens was a sign that Jackson Heights was still a desirable neighborhood, but it also marked the beginning of the end of MacDougall’s vision of Jackson Heights.
The population was changing. Some new residents were gay, and, says the HUD report, “with little public notice, Jackson Heights developed into a gay haven—a remarkable contrast to the intolerance toward ethnic and racial minorities in the area.” In the 1940s, restrictive covenants that barred people by race or religion were struck down as illegal, and the Jewish population of Jackson Heights slowly began to rise. However, as the HUD report also points out, black residents had a hard time renting or buying in the area until the passage of the Fair Housing Act in 1968, and, indeed, the percentage of African Americans in the neighborhood’s population remains low.
Meanwhile, the wholesale rewriting of America’s immigration laws in 1965 meant that many South and Central American immigrants began to reach New York City in the late 1960s, along with South Asian and Chinese immigrants. By 1990, the demographics of the area had shifted such that no group was the majority, and while the sizes of each demographic continue to change, that remains true to this day.
This shift in Jackson Heights’ ethnic makeup stands as a rebuke to MacDougall’s original idea for a whites-only enclave. A century ago, a neighborhood with such massive diversity—halal butchers down the street from Indian restaurants that buy fresh produce from the same vendors as the nearby Peruvian diners—would have seemed like an unlikely place to foster a strong sense of community.
But, still, while Edward MacDougall may have envisioned a Garden City in his own image—white, Protestant, and middle class—he built a neighborhood that was able to transform into something more economically and culturally diverse without losing its innate sense of place.
Sunnyside Gardens, built from 1924-1928, was another community influenced by the English Garden City movement. Called by some America’s first successful experiment with garden-city design, it is now a National Register Historic District. Sunnyside Gardens is a 77-acre planned community led by a group including Clarence Stein, urban planner Louis Mumford (one of the Garden’s first residents) and then-schoolteacher and future first lady Eleanor Roosevelt to provide affordable working-class housing. Designed “for living not for selling”, the project sought to show civic leaders they could solve social problems and beautify the city, while making a small profit.
The novel design of the Gardens included large areas of open space. Construction costs were minimized, allowing those with limited means the opportunity to afford their own homes. Rows of one- to three-family private houses with co-op and rental apartment buildings were mixed together and arranged around common gardens, with stores and garages placed around the edges of the neighborhood. Just about every interior window in the Gardens offers a view of a landscaped commons.
Artists and writers were also attracted to Sunnyside Gardens. In its early years, it was sometimes referred to as the ‘Greenwich Village annex’. Residents included painter Raphael Soyer, singer Perry Como and actress Judy Holliday. Crooner Rudy Vallee, NYPD Blue actress Justine Miceli, “Rhoda’s mom” Nancy Walker, and tough-guy actor James Caan also lived in Sunnyside.
Much more to write about. (I love Station Square in Forest Hills.) But space and (your) time are limited.
The Al Weinstein Tree at the Tram Plaza NINA LUBLIN AND ED LITCHER GOT IT RIGHT.
FROM THOM HEYER
Dear Judy– I’m so sorry to hear about how 9/11 was “officially” commemorated on the Island, but glad to hear it was acknowledged in a heartfelt way later that day. Sept. 11, 2001 was a horrible day for any New Yorker who lived through or lost someone on that horrible day. Stephen & I have vivid memories of that day because we were still living in Chelsea’s Flower District at the time. Our friend Erika lost her husband John that day after only working at his new job for a week. He was “Person #3” registered as “missing” at the Armory that day as we went with her to register there with hundreds of other New Yorkers. Union Square quickly became the place of candles, shrines & pictures asking “Have you seen this person?” We tried to give blood that day at St. Vincent’s when it was still a hospital & not luxury apartments. We were turned away because they did not need blood donations–no one had been brought to the hospital because no one had survived….. John’s memorial was held at our apt. & packed with people shoulder-to-shoulder who didn’t know where to go with their grief…… On Sept. 11, 2002, there was an unofficial memorial at Union Square commemorating the one year anniversary of that horrible day. Everything had changed, including people’s hearts. Our country was at war. People seemed defensive & argumentative in the park that day. We had turned a corner in our psyche & not for the better that day. I’m sorry I didn’t know about the gatherings until after-the-fact on Saturday. Thank you for the photos & thank you & the others who were present that day to pay your respects….. All the best: Thom
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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TWO COMMEMORATIONS OF 9/11 ON THE ISLAND. IN THE MORNING, RIOC…..
Public Safety Officers in formation by the 9/11 Memorial Tree
The plaque honors our residents and those who worked here who perished on September 11th.
Rossana Ceruzzi, President of RIRA with Shelton Haynes, President of RIOC
Kevin Brown, Director PSD and Michael Shinozaki, RIOC Board Member.
Chief Brown speaking 9/11 floral wreath commemorating event
Since our friends at RIOC are not ones for motivating events, this was the sad truth at 8:30 a.m. on Saturday morning. A group of about 16 Public Safety officers, 3 members of the RIOC Communications team, one RIOC Board Member, RIOC president and RIRA president gathered at the 9/11 Memorial tree.
RIOC has poorly publicized the event and told people to stay away.
Aside from a speech from Kevin Brown there were no speeches, no personal memories, no one invited to speak.
A white floral wreath was placed by the memorial.
The sad event was over in less than 30 minutes with an audience of about 30 persons. Hundreds were just feet away at the farmers market, but there was no indication that this event was taking place.
Rossana Ceruzzi, RIRA President did her best to put this event together with the stubborn and not-communicative RIOC Communications team. She was not invited to make comments.
On RIOC team member was in front of every speaker, busily recording “milestone” event for their next newsletter.
September 11th is such a special time to those who lived and worked here 20 years ago. All from RIOC are newbies who only work here and do not relate to our community.
IN THE EVENING NEIGHBORS GATHERED
Matthew Katz and Sherrie Helstein led an informal gathering of neighbors in the evening. Most of us had lived on the island in 2001 and had vivid memories.
Our stories were personal and heartwarming, some brought tears, theirs told of good deeds and actions taken by the community the days after September 11th.
It was the kind of gathering that a community knows well. We speak as veterans of the day, how we found out about the planes crashing into the WTC, how we got home, walking over the bridges, who we met that days, and relationships that changed that day.
For an hour we were In the embrace of our friends and island family.
Andrea Jackson brought a photo montage of those who perished on that day. relocation’s were too raw to discuss at that time.
Joyce Short told of being in the subway just feet from the Cortland Street Station.
Though small, it was gratifying to be with our neighbors.
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 Deborah Dorff All image are copyrighted (c)
RIHS ARCHIVES AND JUDITH BERDY
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SPECIAL COMMEMORATIVE 20th ANNIVERSARY WEEKEND EDITION
SEPTEMBER 11-12, 2021 The 465th Edition
VIEWS OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTER
PHOTOS BY JUDITH BERDY
THESE ARE PHOTOS THAT I TOOK OVER THE YEARS OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTER. SOME WERE TAKEN FROM BOATS SAILING PAST THE TOWERS ONE WAS TAKEN FROM ELLIS ISLAND
FROM ELLIS ISLAND
VIEW FROM SOUTHPOINT PARK
FROM A SHIP SAILING OUT OF NEW YORK HARBOR
EDITORIAL
After 20 years we all remember exactly where we were at 9 a.m. on September 11th, 2001. Where were you?
On the following Saturday after the tragedy, a few of us put up a table by the Chapel and neighbors came over to write remembrances. I remembered returning to the candy store to get more oaktag a number of times. We put the posters in the island stores. I do not remember what happened to the posters. I do remember those we lost from the island from the city and the posters with photos all over our city.
Today we mourn over 2,977 souls in our city a number so mind boggling that we lost in one morning.
In the last year a plague of Covid has surpassed those numbers and we cannot comprehend those numbers.
Judith Berdy
Funding Provided by: Roosevelt Island Operating Corporation Public Purpose Funds Council Member Ben Kallos City Council Discretionary Funds thru DYCD Text by Judith Berdy
CREDITS
JUDITH BERDY Edited by Deborah Dorff ALL PHOTOS COPYRIGHT RIHS. 2020 (C) PHOTOS IN THIS ISSUE (C) JUDITH BERDY RIHS
Raphael Soyer, Annunciation, 1980, oil on linen, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of the Sara Roby Foundation, 1986.6.98
Raphael Soyer once said, “If art is to survive it must describe and express people, their lives and times. It must communicate.” Throughout his life, Soyer explored the inner individual. Annunciation is a quiet painting of two young women caught in a moment of introspection. The biblical title, which refers to the moment when an angel tells the Virgin Mary that she will bear the Messiah, is a clue to an implied meaning about regeneration and the mystery of life.
Painter and printmaker, a twin brother of artist Moses Soyer. His sympathetic and melancholic paintings expressed the aspirations and disappointments of ordinary people. He frequently painted himself and other artists, Homage to Thomas Eakins (1964–65) being one such work.
Joan Stahl American Artists in Photographic Portraits from the Peter A. Juley & Son Collection (Washington, D.C. and Mineola, New York: National Museum of American Art and Dover Publications, Inc., 1995)
Raphael Soyer was a painter, draughtsman, and printmaker who believed that “if art is to survive, it must describe and express people, their lives and times. It must communicate.” From an early age Soyer and his brothers Moses and Isaac were encouraged to draw by their father, a teacher of Hebrew literature and history. Forced to leave Russia in 1912, they immigrated to the United States and settled in Brooklyn. In the mid 1920s, having studied at Cooper Union, the National Academy of Design, and the Art Students League, Soyer painted scenes of life on New York’s east side. His portrayals of derelicts, working people, and the unemployed around Union Square during the Depression reveal more of a poignant vision of the human condition than the art of social protest popular with many of his contemporaries. Throughout his life Soyer painted people—his friends, himself, studio models—with an unerring eye for intimacy and mood.
Virginia M. Mecklenburg Modern American Realism: The Sara Roby Foundation Collection (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press for the National Museum of American Art, 1987)
Raphael Soyer, (Memories, portfolio) The Pier, 1969, color lithograph, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Museum purchase, 1969.74.6
Raphael Soyer, (Memories, portfolio) Unemployed, 1969, color lithograph, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Museum purchase, 1969.74.9
Raphael Soyer, Railroad Waiting Room, n.d., lithograph, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of Frank McClure, 1970.85
Raphael Soyer, Rosemary in Thought, 1975, oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Bequest of Henry Ward Ranger through the National Academy of Design, 1999.77
Raphael Soyer, (Memories, portfolio) Dancing Lesson, 1969, color lithograph, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Museum purchase, 1969.74.7
Raphael Soyer, (Memories, portfolio) Still Life, 1969, color lithograph, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Museum purchase, 1969.74.12
MOSES SOYER
Moses Soyer, Woman in Pink Blouse, n.d., oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of Emil J. Arnold, 1967.56.5
Moses Soyer, Children at Play and Sport I, ca. 1938, oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Transfer from the General Services Administration, 1974.89.2
Moses Soyer, Seamstress, ca. 1940, screenprint on paper, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Museum purchase, 1980.17.6
ISAAC SOYER
Isaac Soyer, The Letter, n.d., lithograph, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Transfer from D.C. Public Library, 1967.72.241
Isaac Soyer, Scrubwomen, n.d., lithograph, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Transfer from D.C. Public Library, 1967.72.242
Isaac Soyer, The Waitress, ca. 1934-1939, pencil on paper, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Transfer from the Evander Childs High School, Bronx, New York through the General Services Administration, 1975.83.111
Soyer captures a waitress cleaning the table of a man dining alone. Around them customers bustle and converse and dishes clank, but the artist isolates the two figures from their surroundings. They are engrossed in private thoughts despite their physical proximity.The Waitress“The artist discovers beauty and meaning in whatever environment he is cast by chance,” Soyer wrote in 1947. For him, the place was New York City, where he drew scenes of everyday life. In
Graphic Masters II: Highlights from the Smithsonian American Art Museum, 2009
RIOC DELIVERED THE T. BURNS STONES TODAY TO THE RIHS VISITOR CENTER. STAY TUNED FOR DETAILS OF OUR DEDICATION OF THESE STONES.
THURSDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY
THE BODINE CASTLE
43-16 VERNON BLVD
ED LITCHER AND CLARA BELLA GOT IT RICHT!
No, it’s not the Adams Family home. This was the famous granite castle built by John Bodine (1818-1887), a wealthy wholesale grocer. It was built in 1853, only 200 feet from the East River. Bodine ran for mayor of Long Island City — unsuccessfully — in 1876, but was made one of the first trustees of the Long Island City Savings Bank. After the death of his wife in 1879 he lost interest in the home and rented it to Harold Larsen of the Long Island Paint Works.
After Bodine’s death his son sold it to Young and Metzer’s paper bag company in 1893. Early in the 20th century it was bought by William Youngs and Brothers, who turned the property into a lumberyard and mill, using the house for offices. William Youngs (1892-1978) had a successful lumber operation as LIC was growing into an industrial city. Youngs never lived in LIC. By the 1950s when the building boom ended he merged with another lumberyard and the firm became stronger as the Youngs-Esdorn Lumber Co. By 1962, an expanding Con Edison made him an offer he could not refuse. In 1966 the Landmarks Preservation Commission, which usually doesn’t save anything outside Manhattan, sided with Con Edison that the castle was not valuable for landmark status. It was quietly demolished on May 11, 1966 without media attention or protests. Today the site is part of a high-tension switching station.
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)
SMITHSONIAN AMERICAN ART MUSEUM
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Queensbridge Park, named for the nearby Queensboro Bridge, is a 20.34-acre (8.23 ha) city park along the East River in Long Island City, Queens, New York City. The park is a primary place of recreation for residents of Queensbridge Houses and has a riverfront promenade, baseball diamonds, running paths, lawns and areas for picnicking.
History The New York City government acquired the land on which Queensbridge Park lies in 1939, the same year the Queensbridge Houses across Vernon Boulevard opened. While New York City Housing Authority had jurisdiction over the land, it was operated by the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation.[1]
From the 1950s to 1970s, the park was known as “River Park”, a reference to the East River that runs next to it.
During construction for the 63rd Street Tunnel which completed in 1989, a 60 by 90 feet (18 by 27 m) combined ventilation structure and emergency exit was constructed in the park.[2]
In 2014, a large seawall was constructed against the East River to protect against erosion. The project also created a 6-ft wide promenade which was named for longtime park advocate Elizabeth McQueen.[1]
The west side of Vernon Blvd. before the park was built.
The circular design is still in use inside the park,
The park continued from Vernon Blvd to 21 Street, with tennis courts and a tree lined promenade.
The New York Architectural Terra Company building along the river just south of the Queensboro Bridge.
The recreation center, recently demolished and replaced.
An aerial view of the housing and park.
Welfare Island in the background showing the Steam Plant , Goldwater Hospital and Elevator Storehouse Building. The Queensboro Bridge had flagpoles on the towers, which were later removed.
The newly completed park.
These four ballfields are still in use and lit up nightly.
TO REALLY APPRECIATE THESE PHOTOS, FOLLOW THESE STEPS:
GO TO NYC.GOV/RECORDS GO TO QUICK LINKS GO TO COLLECTIONS GO TO DIGITAL COLLECTIONS IN THE SEARCH BOX ENTER “QUEENSBRIDGE PARK”
I have overlooked Queensbridge Park for 16 years. It is never boring. The seasons come and go, I watched the seawall erode in Hurricane Sandy and being rebuilt in2014. There are many occasions there from rock concerts to parties along the water’ edge,. Yesterday a Synagogue set-up a tent and held Rosh Hashanah services there. The park is virtually empty during the week and the ball fields are full every evening. It is a green oasis between the Queensbridge House and the high rises just east.
These two engraved stones were found on the east shore in Southpoint Park. They have been saved by the contractors working on the park. The stones will soon be in a place of honor outside the RIHS Visitor Center kiosk. Who T Burns, was we do not know, but will honor him (or her) at the RIHS.
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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Born to a wealthy family in New Jersey in 1864, he was educated in Europe and then Cornell University. After persuading his father to let him enroll in the Art Students League and pursue painting, he returned to live at his family’s Manhattan brownstone at 118 East 57th Street.
His early work earned notoriety and was selected for exhibition at the National Academy of Design in the 1880s.
“Eilshemius’s early artistic style was rooted in lessons he gleaned from his studies abroad, specifically the landscape aesthetics of the Barbizon School and French impressionism,” states the National Gallery of Art.
In the 1890s and 1900s he traveled the world, published books of poetry and a novel, and continued to paint. But what one critic called his “outsized” ego led Eilshemius, by all accounts a loner and eccentric, to reject the contemporary art scene.
“By 1911, disconcerted by the lack of attention his paintings attracted, he had renounced his formal training and transitioned to an entirely self-conscious and seemingly self-taught style.”
That self-taught style was dreamy, romantic, and visionary. Influenced by reclusive 19th century painter Albert Pinkham Ryder, it was described as having a “sinister magic.”
Autumn Evening, Park Avenue,” 1915 “The paintings of this time became increasingly less conventional and punctuated by an element of fantasy, depicting voluptuous nudes and moonlit landscapes,” states the Michael Rosenfeld Gallery. “With whimsical flourish, Eilshemius also painted sinuous frames onto these pictures, thereby adding both dimensionality and flatness to his lyrical and romantic scenes.”
Though he isn’t known as a New York City streetscapes painter, Eilshemius seems to have occasionally painted the city around him—creating muted, mystical scenes of Gotham’s shabbier neighborhoods in twilight and moonlight.
As Eilshamius turned away from the art world, he became more of an oddball, a “bearded, querulous, erratic man whose gaunt figure was a stock one in the galleries that never hung his work,” according to his obituary in the New York Times.
Now he was living in the dusty family brownstone with just his brother, Henry. When he wasn’t haranguing gallery owners to buy his work, he was handing out pamphlets touting himself as an artistic genius, or writing thousands of letters to city newspapers. (The Sun printed some of them under amusing headlines, states his obituary.)
As the 20th century went on, however, Eilshemius was rediscovered by the art world. In the 1920s and 1930s he had numerous exhibits, and his talent was recognized by the critics of the era.
“At this time, his success both confounded and fueled his perceived peculiarities and erratic behavior and, injured in an automobile accident in 1932, Eilshemius became increasingly reclusive,” according to the Michael Rosenfeld Gallery.
“New York Street at Dusk,” undated When Henry died in 1940, Eilshemius was left ailing and impoverished in the family’s “gloomy, gaslit” brownstone. In 1941 he came down with pneumonia, but he protested going to the hospital, so doctors put him in Bellevue’s psych ward.
He died in December of that year, in debt but with the recognition he always wanted.
“A feisty rebel and a tireless iconoclast, he never painted to satisfy the fashions of his day, but only to please his own strange and sometimes nightmarish vision,” wrote David L. Shirey in the New York Times in 1978, in a piece on an exhibit of Eilshemius’ work. “It was a vision characterized by extraordinary personal insight and imagination.”
Autumn light and solitude on Park Avenue September 26, 2013 I’m not sure what part of Park Avenue painter Louis Michel Eilshemius depicts here. But I don’t think it matters.
He’s captured the orangey glow and foreboding solitude that can be seen and felt all over city streets at dusk in the fall.
ALEXIS VILLAFANE, ARLENE BESSENOFF, GLORIA HERMAN & LAURA HUSSEY GOT IT!!!
FROM GUY LUDWIG:
The Queensboro Corporation has a special footnote in the world of broadcasting. In 1922, Queenboro paid for the very first “commercial” in radio history. This was a fifteen minute talk about the advantages – and, of course, the healthful joys – living “in the country” might bring. Queensboro was not permitted to say they were in the real estate business, nor that they had homes to sell or rent. Rather the copy spoke of tranquil gardens, healthful leisure and the kind of life-quality possible only outside of “cramped” Manhattan. The radio station, New York’s WEAF, later became WNBC and is now WFAN. In 1922, it was owned by A T & T and eventually became part of the first radio network in America, operated by the National Broadcasting Company. Many other commercials followed – as we all know – but for several years, the odd – and very strict – policy of never mentioning one’s product directly was adhered to by WEAF. It was “non-commercial” in a manner not unlike PBS thirty years ago – no direct selling. That said, dozens of “sponsors” lined up immediately after Queensboro’s debut – including Eveready Batteries (“A flashlight is essential in every home”), Atwater-Kent Radios (“Never before could one hear Opera at the turn of a dial”) and Delco Sparkplugs (“A well-tuned automobile is a SAFER
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
EPHEMERAL NEW YORK
The Staten Island Museum is supported in part by public funds provided through the NYC Department of Cultural Affairs and by the New York State Council on the Arts.
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