Inside there were multiple rooms and bars and a small simple stage where various acts were performed. The proprietor himself took to the stage every week to recite some of his own poetry. Mark Twain wrote of his visit to Harry’s in 1867, describing the female dancers who “did spin around with such thoughtless vehemence that I was constrained to place my hat before my eyes.”
Harry posted a list of rules for his establishment on the wall including no profanity, no loud talking, and no drunkenness. Thanks largely to the owner’s low tolerance for any truly disruptive behavior, Harry’s was a cut above the worst of the dance halls where robbery and violence were rampant, but still on a lower rung than the more reputable theatres of Broadway further uptown. In his New York Times obituary, Harry Hill was described as “a queer combination of the lawless, reckless, rough, and honest man.”
In April 1862, New York passed the Concert Saloon Bill. The New York Times reported that this ambiguous bill would “purge our places of public amusement of most of their evils” and” to “make respectable and popular those that are properly conducted.” Essentially, the bill required all venues to obtain a license for any spoken or sung performances, though no licenses were granted to places that served alcohol or had waiter girls. Hefty fines were imposed on venues that skirted these rules, though many concert saloon proprietors took their chances, either ignoring the bill entirely or finding crafty ways around the new rule.
At Harry’s, the entertainment offering shifted to boxing matches. Some of the most well-known boxers got their start on Harry’s stage. Hill even put on a fight between two female boxers.
Due to financial struggles from his other business ventures, Harry was forced to close the dance hall in the 1880s. By the turn of the 20th century, most concert saloons had closed but their influence led to other forms of entertainment like burlesque and vaudeville.
PHOTO OF THE DAY NEW HOLIDAY MERCHANDISE
ARRIVING SOON AT THE RIHS VISITOR KIOSK STAY TUNED AFTER ELECTION DAY FOR DETAILS
CREDITS
EPHEMERAL NEW YORK JUDITH BERDY
We invite you to become a cherished member of our RIHS community. Simply visit our website, RIHS.us, and select the ‘Membership’ option. It’s super easy to join online via PayPal. Your support plays a pivotal role in keeping the RIHS thriving. We appreciate you!
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
The 1930s squatters colony that built its shacks beneath the luxury apartments of Riverside Drive
The Great Depression may have been a national financial catastrophe. But it hit New York City especially hard.
In 1932, three years after Wall Street crashed, one third of city workers were unemployed, and half of al factories had shut down production. An estimated 1.6 million residents relied on relief from shaky public funds and dwindling private charities.
Though Mayor Jimmy Walker’s administration launched an initiative to halt the eviction of poor families from their homes, according to New York Almanack, homeless encampments of mostly single men sprang up all over Gotham.
And between the luxury apartment residences high up on Riverside Drive and the Hudson River below was a shanty community of 87 homeless men known as “Camp Thomas Paine.”
Why Thomas Paine? In The American Crisis from 1776, Paine wrote, “These are the times that try men’s souls”—which must have resonated in Depression-era America.
The men who lived in Camp Thomas Paine weren’t from New York City. “The Camp was initially formed in 1932 by seventy-five World War I veterans in Washington D.C.,” stated the neighborhood website I Love the Upper West Side.
After being expelled from Washington, “the group settled on Manhattan’s Upper West Side from 72nd to 79th Streets along the Hudson River,” per the website. A Daily News article from 1933 described the enclave as “in the trash flats bordering the Hudson.” (Below, an aerial view)
Riverside Drive, officially opened in 1880, was no stranger to shacks and shanties. In the Drive’s earliest decades as a budding millionaire colony, a line of palatial mansions and elegant row houses overlooking Riverside Park and the Hudson River were occasionally interrupted by flimsy wood shanties left over from the Upper West Side’s more rural, less monied era.
By the 1930s, however, the shacks as well as many of the mansions were gone. In their place rose handsome apartment houses for well-off city residents who likely didn’t anticipate a homeless commune getting in the way of their park and river views.
The Camp, explained a sympathetic New York Times article from 1933, is located “where the tugboats go puffing lazily up and down in the damp November fogs. On the east, freight trains clank and jar together in the night, and beyond, on a superior eminence, the politely glacial facades of Riverside Drive look down, not always approvingly.”
But Riverside Drive residents—and New York City officials—didn’t evict Camp Thomas Paine, at least not at first. Perhaps because the veterans who built their shacks there made sure the community was orderly and structured, Mayor John P. O’Brien allowed them to stay.
The only stipulation was that no more shacks could be built, per the Daily News.
For the next few years, Riverside Drive embraced Camp Thomas Paine. The men living there occupied about 50 shacks, with the wood coming from auctioned Broadway theater sets. They ate meals at a mess hall, banned alcohol, kept a variety of pets, and accepted regular donations of food, fuel, bedding, and clothing.
“Camp Paine is not a port of missing men,” stated the Daily News. “Women come down looking for their husbands; fathers looking for sons, but no reunions have taken place. Nobody seems to be hiding there and the police never bother the men. It’s just a place where a man can call his soul his own.”
But Camp Thomas Paine’s days were numbered. In March 1934, a Daily News article reported that Robert Moses, at the time the city’s Parks Commissioner, sent eviction notices to the shacks. “They’re pre-empting public property that we are going to develop for public use,” the News quoted Moses.
“They are good neighbors,” Schwab, chairman of Bethlehem Steel, told the New York Times. “Some of the men came to our house to help in removing the snow last winter….When we had surplus produce from our Pennsylvania farm we were glad to share it with them. We will miss them.”
In May, the men torched their shacks. What didn’t burn was soon destroyed by Robert Moses in the name of West Side improvement, despite the Board of Aldermen ordering Moses to rescind the eviction. (Moses also put an end to the Columbia University Yacht Club at the foot of 86th Street.)
A handful of former Camp residents relocated to a farm colony in upstate New York, according to I Love the Upper West Side. The remaining men? Once the Camp was gone, they seem to have slipped anonymously into history—along with all the residents of the city’s Depression-era homeless encampments.
Curious about more stories of Riverside Drive? Join one of the year’s final walking tours led by Ephemeral New York and explore the Drive’s secrets, stories, and rich history. Space is available for the tour on Sunday, October 27, and the tour on Sunday, November 10. Click the links for more info!
“They are good neighbors,” Schwab, chairman of Bethlehem Steel, told the New York Times. “Some of the men came to our house to help in removing the snow last winter….When we had surplus produce from our Pennsylvania farm we were glad to share it with them. We will miss them.”
In May, the men torched their shacks. What didn’t burn was soon destroyed by Robert Moses in the name of West Side improvement, despite the Board of Aldermen ordering Moses to rescind the eviction. (Moses also put an end to the Columbia University Yacht Club at the foot of 86th Street.)
A handful of former Camp residents relocated to a farm colony in upstate New York, according to I Love the Upper West Side. The remaining men? Once the Camp was gone, they seem to have slipped anonymously into history—along with all the residents of the city’s Depression-era homeless encampments.
PHOTO OF THE DAY KIOSK STAFF NIGHT OUT
GLORIA HERMAN, BARBARA SPIEGEL & ELLEN JACOBY WERE GUESTS AT THE TRIBA BENEFIT LAST EVENING! A FUN EVENING CELEBRATING OUR COMMUNITY
CREDITS
EPHEMERAL NEW YORK JUDITH BERDY
We invite you to become a cherished member of our RIHS community. Simply visit our website, RIHS.us, and select the ‘Membership’ option. It’s super easy to join online via PayPal. Your support plays a pivotal role in keeping the RIHS thriving. We appreciate you!
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
The final product of The Casino in Central Park was one of grandiosity. Its sweeping staircase, domed pavilion, grand ballroom, glass ceilings, multiple terraces, opal glass plates, and opulent chandeliers made for a scene straight from TheGreat Gatsby. But the short life of this building sadly serves as an example of a quick-change morphism, one created with good intentions swiftly turned misogynistic turned corrupt turned vengeful, all of which took place without a single table game or slot machine ever played there despite its name.
The Gothic Revival Stone structure was originally a Civil War era restaurant named Ladies’ Refreshment Salon. Conceived as part of Central Park’s superintendent Frederick Law Olmsted and architect Calvert Vaux’s Greensward Plan, it was located inside the park just off 5th Avenue near East 72nd Street and was one of the park’s three original restaurants. It was intended to be a place where “unaccompanied ladies could relax during their excursions around the park and enjoy refreshments at decent prices, free of any threat to their propriety.”
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the restaurant was soon patronized by men and quickly lost its purpose as both a women’s only haven and later as an eatery accessible to the general public. It was renamed The Casino to reflect the Italian translation of “little house” and not a gambling establishment. By 1882, the restaurant served mainly wealthy city residents and “became so popular with New Yorkers and tourists that it was expanded” two years later, Untapped Cities writes.
Bain News Service via Library of Congress
After a second renovation in 1921, Tammany Hall-like corruption crept in around 1928 when NYC Mayor Jimmie Walker evicted then lessee and theater producer Carl F. Zittel and awarded the lease of the city’s property to his friend and restauranteur Sidney Solomon. It is believed that Walker granted this favor to Solomon as thanks to the latter for introducing Walker to his tailor.
While Zittel fought in court to keep the restaurant accessible to the public, Mayor Walker turned The Casino into his home away from City Hall and even maintained an office there. With Zittel out of the picture and Solomon in charge, a board of governors that included only the city’s richest and most powerful was appointed for the city-owned restaurant.
NYC Parks Photo Archive
The board closed the restaurant for another renovation. Metropolitan Opera architect Joseph Urban was charged with the new design and 1919 World Series fixer Arnold Rothstein was allegedly a financier. The Casino, truly massive in size and splendor, reopened on June 4, 1929 with an exclusive handpicked, invite-only event for 500 of, again, the city’s richest and most powerful with names the likes of Vanderbilt, Lehman, Ziegfeld, Hearst, Nast, and Drexel. “Parties lasted well past midnight, and when the main restaurant closed at 3 a.m., chorus girls from the Ziegfeld Follies arrived with a police motorcycle escort to entertain select clients in private rooms upstairs, as dazzling light spilled from the windows and blazed upon the luxuriant exteriors of Fifth Avenue,” wrote the NY Times in 2012
NYC Parks Photo Archive
Zittel ultimately exhausted all his legal options and The Casino remained under the control of Walker. According to the Museum of the City of New York, “parties regularly lasted until 3 A.M., with Tammany hotshots mingling with Ziegfeld Follies’ showgirls. To get around the pesky Prohibition laws, patrons would leave their Rolls-Royces stocked with bootleg champagne parked outside. The maître d kept an eye on the drinks at the wealthiest tables and when they ran low, he would signal their chauffeur, standing near the doorway, to restock the alcohol from the stash in the car. It was the most exclusive playground for the most exclusive set.”
Walker was forced to resign in disgrace in September 1932 due to a corruption scandal. The city’s 99th mayor, Fiorello LaGuardia, took office in 1934 and teamed up with crony Robert Moses in an act regarded as one of political vengeance.
Moses marked The Casino for demolition, alleging that the restaurant’s decadent ways were out of touch in light of the 1929 Stock Market Crash years earlier. While Moses did have a point, his motive was purely based on a mutual dislike of Walker that he shared with LaGuardia.
Despite the restaurant’s assurances by Solomon that prices would be lowered to make the restaurant more accessible to all, Moses simply did not care. He was on the winning side of a number of legal battles where even the presiding judge noted that the court’s holdings in favor of Moses granted him “a very dangerous power.
NYC Parks Photo Archive
The Casino was torn down in 1935 and a playground named for New York Junior League founder Mary Harriman Rumsey was opened in 1937. “In 1986, Rumsey Playground became Rumsey Playfield, and [after moving from the Naumberg Bandshell] in 1990 the site of Summerstage, returning the site to the original musical intention of Olmsted and Vaux.”
Despite its intriguing history, The Casino is largely forgotten in the city’s folklore. Given that its initial purposes – to offer women a place of their own and later to be an uptown locale for the general public – were so grossly distorted by avarice, corruption, vindictiveness and doubled-dealing, some may argue that forgetting is not a bad thing, that the mistakes of the past have been corrected and its lessons learned. But others may be more cautious and recall a quote from the Roaring 20s of the Great Gatsby, the era where both the book’s characters and The Casino’s infamy reside. “Can’t repeat the past? Why of course you can!”
PHOTO OF THE DAY
The canine fashion show is on view at Canine Styles on Lexington Avenue next to the subway station and bus stop. These are the classiest trick or treaters on the Upper East Side!!
CREDITS
East Side Feed E.L. DANVERS JUDITH BERDY
We invite you to become a cherished member of our RIHS community. Simply visit our website, RIHS.us, and select the ‘Membership’ option. It’s super easy to join online via PayPal. Your support plays a pivotal role in keeping the RIHS thriving. We appreciate you!
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
Over the last month the MTA has spruced up our subway station with: New Lights. Cleaned and polished windows Replace broken tiles Scrubbed all areas of the station Repaired leaks and broke pipes on platforms Cleaned escalators New benches on platform and all sorts of improvements.
The exterior roof was painted after looking at years of raw steel The wall is clean and free of years of grime.
MTA marks 100th station ‘Re-New-Vation’ at Roosevelt Island The revamp program, launched in 2022, focuses on using planned weekend outages to make upgrades like painting, tile replacements, and improved lighting. Edric Robinson
The Roosevelt Island subway station received a fresh revamp as part of the MTA’s “Re-New-Vation” program, marking the 100th station to get upgrades aimed at improving safety and cleanliness for New York commuters. “When riders come back from the weekend, the station looks clean, fresh, and it smells fresh,” said Demetrius Crichlow, Interim NYC Transit president, during a celebration at the station. The revamp program, launched in 2022, focuses on using planned weekend outages to make upgrades like painting, tile replacements and improved lighting. “Our crews have replaced over 106,000 square feet of tiles, just for perspective, that’s like tiling the entire Empire State Building. We’ve also painted 4.8 million square feet of station surfaces,” said Crichlow. In addition to these improvements, the MTA has added new decals for ADA accessibility and upgraded lighting, which Crichlow says is crucial for commuters’ sense of safety. “When customers come in and see lighting that’s brighter, they feel safer,” he noted. Roosevelt Island residents, like commuter Maggie, have noticed the changes but feel there is more work to be done. “Watching them clean the glass, polish it, and close the station—everything is great, but they always forget spots,” she said. “The gunk is out from downstairs and behind the seats, so that’s good, and the urine smell is gone.” MTA officials say they are listening to commuter feedback. “Month after month, year after year, cleanliness is the top priority,” said Shanifah Rieara, senior advisor for communication at NYC Transit. “We just want our customers to know we hear you, and we want you to continue to give feedback.” The MTA say it’s launched its fall customer account survey to gather input from riders across the network. The survey is available online through Oct. 31 and can be accessed here. One of our Island commentators demeaned the efforts by the MTA. I commend the agency for cleaning our station and making it shine like it did in 1989 when it opened.
I am thrilled the work improves our commute and am glad to enter an “odor free” station.
PHOTO OF THE DAY
Gloria Herman has a slew of sloths that need new homes. Stop by the kiosk and “adopt” one or more for your home.
CREDITS
MTA CHANNEL 12 BRONX JUDITH BERDY
We invite you to become a cherished member of our RIHS community. Simply visit our website, RIHS.us, and select the ‘Membership’ option. It’s super easy to join online via PayPal. Your support plays a pivotal role in keeping the RIHS thriving. We appreciate you!
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
Auctioneer Phillip A. Smyth refused to sell the rowhouse at No. 170 East 77th Street at his foreclosure auction on January 18, 1896. He considered the highest bid, $7,450, too low. Before long a better offer was presented by developers Hall & Hall, who purchased the house next door as well.
Thomas and William W. Hall were well known in real estate circles for erecting high-end speculative homes, many of them near Central Park. They had something much different in mind for these properties. The wealthy families who moved into mansions like those the Hall brothers were erecting needed nearby carriage houses. And so Hall & Hall commissioned architect Alexander Welch, of Welch, Smith & Provot to design two handsome private stables on the lots.
Completed in 1898, the two two-story buildings were architecturally harmonious; yet each flexed its own personality. The overall-plan was identical. The ground floor included a large arched carriage bay flanked by a window and entrance on the ground floor. The second stories were treated identically–two sets of paired openings separated by a blind recessed panel. Welch clad No. 75 in red brick, No. 77 in gray iron spot brick.
Millionaires’ carriage houses were often lavish affairs, reflecting their wealth and social status. Welch, therefore, embellished No. 77 with oeil de boeuf, or ox-eye, windows within molded frames decorated with palm fronds and cartouches. Brick panels were deftly inlaid into the limestone within the carriage bay arch.
The ground floor interiors were finished in oak. There were six horse stalls toward the back and a “wash deck.” The second floor, accessed by a staircase and elevator, held the hayloft and two coachmen’s quarters (which faced the front, helping to avoid the odors of the manure pit to the rear).
On December 6, 1899 The Sun reported that “W. W. and T. M. Hall [have sold] the new private stables” at No. 77 East 77th Street. The buyer was George Theodore Bliss, who lived in an imposing mansion at No. 860 Fifth Avenue, between 67th and 68th Street.
The 48-year old was the son of George Bliss, an original partner in the banking house of Morgan, Bliss & Co. George T. Bliss* remained a member of the firm when it was reorganized as the Morgan Trust Company. He had inherited a substantial fortune from his father, augmented by his own major stock holdings in mining and banking firms. Bliss and his wife, the former Jeanette Atwater Dwight, had one daughter, Susan Dwight Bliss. ***
Moving into the 77th Street carriage house with the Bliss horses and vehicles were the family’s 30-year-old British-born coachman, John Radford, his wife and her three children by a former marriage. The other quarters were occupied by Edward Foley, a groom. The 26-year-old was born in Ireland.
In 1901, less than two years after purchasing the carriage house, Bliss experienced a perfect storm of medical problems. Already weakened by an attack of influenza, he was struck with appendicitis. He underwent an operation, but was unable to recover from the procedure. He died on March 24, 1901.
Jeanette retained possession of the carriage house. Interestingly, later that year John Radford was looking for a new job. His position wanted advertisement in the New-York Tribune read:
Coachman–By young married Englishman; thoroughly understands care of fine horses and carriages; willing to be generally useful; country preferred; good references.
Jeanette constructed a new mansion in 1907 at No. 9 East 68th Street. In the meantime, she seems to have had trouble retaining stable employees. On June 25, 1907 an advertisement read:
Coachman: married, aged 34; thoroughly competent in every respect, first class city references; city or country. Address Coachman, 77 East 77th st.
That coachman’s replacement, named Webster, did not last long. He too was looking for a new position in March 1909.
But his removal was most likely due to the replacement of horses and carriages with automobiles. The following year’s census showed Charles Cavanagh, “auto mechanic,” living upstairs with his family of five. There was no longer need for a second employee in the building, so the former groom’s quarters were now being leased. That year it was occupied by Mary Kennedy, a “typewriter” at Vogue Magazine. (The term “typewriter” at the time meant “secretary” or “typist.”)
Phillips Phoenix sold his similar two-story stable directly across the street at No. 78 in April 1913. Developer A. L. Mordecai & Son had been accumulating surrounding property and on March 1 the Real Estate Record & Guide explained “The stable threatened to be an obstacle to the re-improvement of the rest of the plot.”
Phoenix moved his vehicles across the street to No. 77. His home was at No. 3 East 66th Street and he maintained a summer home in Tuxedo, New York. Wealthy and a touch flamboyant, the attorney and his wife, the former Lillian G. Lewis, were well-known in society. His business interests sometimes ran far afield of those of his neighbors. He had, for instance, built the Madison Square Theatre at a time with polite society may have attended the theater, but avoided involvement in its operations.
The son of J. Phillips and Mary Whitney Phoenix, he had graduated from Harvard Law School in 1854. An avid sportsman in his younger years, he now focused more on automobiles and was a member of the Automobile Club of America. His more traditional memberships included those in the Union, Knickerbocker, Metropolitan, Union League, Turf and Field, and New York Yacht Clubs, as well as the St. Nicholas Society.
In addition to Tuxedo, Phillips and Lillie (as she was familiarly known) routinely spent time in the warm months at the Aspinwall Hotel in Lenox, Massachusetts. Lillie, like many socialites, did not allow her husband’s business to interfere with her own leisure. She regularly appeared in society columns as she arrived alone at the Aspinwall and other fashionable resorts like the Briarcliff Lodge.
The 87-year-old millionaire died in his 66th Street mansion on April 11, 1921. Oddly enough, Lillie did not follow the expected mourning protocol, which would have restricted her appearances within society for a year. Three months later, on July 17, 1921 the New-York Tribune reported that “Mrs. Phillips Phoenix…was a late arrival at the Aspinwall.”
Phoenix left an estate of nearly $2.6 million. The accounting listed the value of No. 77 East 77th Street at $65,000–about $890,000 today.
Two years later the building was converted to a garage on the first floor and a “dwelling” on the second. It was home to Emma A. Hamilton, widow of William H. Hamilton, by 1926.
In 1969 the building was converted to a private residence, home to Jules Goldstein and his wife, the former Jeanette Rosenberg. A lawyer, Goldstein was a graduate of City College and New York University Law School. His career, however, was wide-flung. He was also executive secretary of the Trouser Institute of America, a member of the Management Labor Textile Advisory Committee of the Federal Trade Commission, and executive secretary of the National Outerwear and Sportswear Association.
Jules Goldstein died at University Hospital in December 1971 at the age of 80. The house became home to Delbert W. Coleman, former CEO of jukebox firm J. P. Seeburg Corporation, and his wife.
The house was the center of an embarrassing snafu in 1976. On January 26, the Colemans sent out about 100 formal invitations for a fund-raiser for Senator Frank Church to be held on February 10. But after poking around into Coleman’s background, Church’s campaign staff “suddenly discovered that it had scheduled another fund-raising affair the same evening,” reported Dan Dorfman in New York Magazine.
It seems that after Coleman sold his interests in Seeburg, he used the money to buy control of Parvin-Dorhmann Company, an operator of Las Vegas casinos and hotels. Within a year Coleman had made a paper profit of over $34.5 million; a meteoric rise in value which prompted an SEC investigation and a charge of stock manipulation.
The Colemans were followed in No. 77 by Edward S. Finkelstein, chairman of R. H. Macy & Company. Living here by 1988, he was widely credited with resuscitating the once-dowdy department store, restoring the ground floor to its original splendor–including the handsome polished wood cars of the Edwardian elevators. It was Finkelstein who re-instituted the Macy’s Fourth of July fireworks as a part of the national celebrations.
When the house was sold for $2.58 million in December 1993, it was described as having three bedrooms, five baths, a “library overlooking dining area,” and “double-height living room.” There were also two fireplaces and a roof deck.
In 2005 plans were filed for a “vertical enlargement of one family dwelling.” That barely described the project. Radio entrepreneur Adam Lindemann would not only expand his home upward, but down. His architect, London-based David Adjaye, would do a gut renovation that added three floors atop the original two, and two more below ground.
***GEORGE BLISS WAS THE PERSON WHO PAID FOR THE CONSTRUCTION OF CHAPEL OF THE GOOD SHEPHERD
The renovations took years to be completed. On May 22, 2011 New York magazine’s Justin Davidson wrote “With the flamboyant orneriness that limitless wealth allows, the art collector Adam Lindemann and his wife, Amalia Dayan, have staged an act of architectural dissidence on the Upper East Side. Lurking behind the limestone scrolls and wrought-iron gate of the carriage house at 77 East 77th Street is an eccentric concrete chateau.”
photographs from “David Adjaye: A House for an Art Collector” via New York magazine May 22, 2011
Strikingly, the massive re-do is not noticeable from the street. Davidson described it saying that Adjaye had confounded “the Upper East Side’s aversion to novelty by combativeness and stealth.”
We invite you to become a cherished member of our RIHS community. Simply visit our website, RIHS.us, and select the ‘Membership’ option. It’s super easy to join online via PayPal. Your support plays a pivotal role in keeping the RIHS thriving. We appreciate you!
CREDITS
DAYTONIAN IN NEW YORK
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
Remembering Diana Brill, a cherished islander and our friend, who unfortunately passed away last week in Los Angeles.
A former choreographer, Diana beautifully transitioned her career into massage therapy and even brought her unique touch to our RIHS Visitor Center. She loved interacting with visitors. Each year she worked as an Inspector at our poll site checking in voters.
Diana was a beacon of positivity, her lively personality and ever-present cheerfulness were infectious. Even amidst health challenges, she remained optimistic, always looking forward to embracing her Californian lifestyle.
We carry her spirit with us, remembering her warmth and resilience.
Fascinating Art, Memory & Community Panel Discussion About the Value of the FDR Four Freedoms Park and Girl Puzzle Memorials hosted by Gallery RIVAA.
Video host Chris Vail and panelists Gina Pollara, Susan Rosenthal and Amanda Matthews.
Cantor Sarah Meyerson of the Roosevelt Island Jewish Congregation celebrated the festival of Sukkot on Wednesday evening in the succah.
The RIJC succah is located on the Senior Terrace down the hill from the 540 passageway. The festival is celebrated for 8 days. The succah is open daily for meals and prayers.
PHOTO OF THE DAY
CREDITS
JUDITH BERDY
ROOSEVELTISLANDER
We invite you to become a cherished member of our RIHS community. Simply visit our website, RIHS.us, and select the ‘Membership’ option. It’s super easy to join online via PayPal. Your support plays a pivotal role in keeping the RIHS thriving. We appreciate you!
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
The RIHS VIsitor Center Kiosk opened in 2007. In 2010 the kiosk was restored and a formal garden was planted. For years the landscaping company that worked for RIOC kept our garden looking great, at RIHS expense. In the last few years we have struggled to find a landscaping company that would maintain our small garden. Unfortunately, after bad and expensive results we were very frustrated.
One day a few months ago I met Michael Stewart. an island resident, on the Q102 bus. We chatted and I invited him to visit the kiosk.
It turns out Michael is a natural gardener and knows landscaping.
Our path along the street is now clear and weed free.
Cutting back and shaping the Maiden Grass has made a vast difference in the approach to the kiosk.
Michael Stewart has been nurturing our rose bushes all summer. Our garden has no water supply so we depend only on Mother Nature.
Our historic Queensboro Bridge Lamp post base has been revealed from overgrown plants.
The back of the kiosk is steep and hard to reach. Michael is conquering it bush by bush. The back will have a clearing for many new daffodils next spring.
Our ground around our Kwasan cherry tree is going to have many daffodils and tulips in the spring. Michael is our early morning ambassador guiding visitors, answering questions and enjoying the atmosphere before rush hour. Stop by on your way to the tram for a chat!!
CREDITS
JUDITH BERDY
We invite you to become a cherished member of our RIHS community. Simply visit our website, RIHS.us, and select the ‘Membership’ option. It’s super easy to join online via PayPal. Your support plays a pivotal role in keeping the RIHS thriving. We appreciate you!
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 15TH, 6:30 PM. GALLERY RIVAA WALK THRU THE EXHIBIT WITH HISTORICAL SOCIETY’S JUDITH BERDY AND PHOTOGRAPHER CHRIS VAIL
Chris Vail is a documentary and news photographer.
Some of the work displayed on this site is part fo a project on regional Mexican music. It started as a photo essay for the LA Times on music in the Mexican state of Veracruz. The research for that assignment opened up a rich world of traditional music where the different genres of Mexican son vary by geographic location and historical influences.
Chris currently lives on Roosevelt Island in New York City.
Transit & Transfer: The Avant-Garde in Montmartre & Manhattan
The term “New World” originated from the late fifteenth century and referred to the recently discovered Americas which astonished Europeans who had previously thought of the world as consisting of Europe, Asia and Africa (the “Old World”).
The earliest accounts of Spanish explorations in Central and South America were written in a series of letters and reports by Peter Martyr d’Anghiera (1457 – 1526), an Italian-born historian and chaplain to the Court of Ferdinand II, King of Aragon, during the Age of Exploration.
In 1530 he penned De orbenovo (On the New World) which describes the first contacts of Europeans and Americans. From the very beginning to the present day “old” versus “new” were not simply descriptive terms, but in many ways value statements – the Old World being superior to the New World or vice versa.
The ‘A’ Word
In 1896, American physician John Harvey Girdner (1856-1933) published an essay in The North American Review entitled “The Plague of City Noises” in which he analyzed the effect thereof on the mental balance of Manhattan’s inhabitants.
Five years later he published a book on Newyorkitis. Defined as a condition by which mind, soul and body have departed from the “normal,” breeding moral and physical degeneration amongst city dwellers.
European socio-cultural observers feared that a similar epidemic might take hold of the Old Continent. Americanization became an obsession; the “A-word” made critics shiver. There was an undertone of cultural superiority in this anxiety.
An increasing sense of European crisis found expression in an ambiguous attitude towards the emerging might of the United States. Europe suffered from an “America problem” which, in turn, had a depressing effect on its own sense of identity.
Did the United States offer an escape route to exhausted continentals? Was there viable life for the offshoot as the old vine shriveled? Would the grapes of achievement be pressed in California rather than in European vineyards?
Many felt that Europe’s pride and identity were damaged and degraded. Compared to young and energetic America, the Old World appeared stale and stagnant – a museum at best, not an active and forward-looking entity.
By the same token, America suffered from its European heritage. The conflict between inherited forms and living experience has been a persistent element, consciously or unconsciously, in the work of every creative artist who has dealt with the American environment.
It figures strongly in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s writing. He sensed the necessity for new artistic forms suited to the realities of a rapidly developing democratic and industrial social system.
Transit
As Europe became more accessible to American artists after the Civil War, many young painters wished to experience the art and culture of the Old World.
The first wave of American artists in Europe consisted of painters who came to see and study the Old Masters. They undertook traditional training sessions at the great art centers and academies. They were inquisitive and introvert. The experience to them was overwhelming.
As a result, much of their early work mimics the styles of the Old World. Childe Hassam (1859 – 1935) introduced Impressionism to the United States, Marsden Hartley (1877 – 1943) was influenced by Paul Cézanne, Pablo Picasso and the Cubists, while Theodore Robinson (1852 – 1896) was in tune with Pierre-Auguste Renoir.
Amongst the numerous painters who experimented with the different movements they had encountered in Paris or elsewhere in Europe emerged an awareness of cultural identity, a desire among artists to create their own history, a tradition that would match or rival European achievements.
Throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries American artists were in the process of discovering themselves and searching for a collective identity. As a consequence, historians have tended to view the development of American art in terms of a “transit of civilization” or simply as an extension of European culture.
Increasingly, the “never-ending” comparisons became both an injustice and an irritation to working artists. Abstract Expressionism is widely regarded as America’s first great stride away from the overbearing influence of the European tradition.
The movement was precipitated by Manhattan’s Milton Avery (1885 – 1965) and had inspired many of its proponents (Mark Rothko, Adolph Gottlieb and others). It angered the pioneering painter that critics lazily referred to him as “America’s Matisse.”
Although Continental trends can be traced in American art, there is nevertheless a quality in the sum of creative output that is distinct from the European tradition. The idea that one is but a maimed offshoot of the other proved untenable.
Années folles
Once the Great War was behind them, Parisians rebounded in a carnival of hedonism known as the “années folles” (crazy years). There was a new aspect to this particular orgy of pleasure: the influx of American writers, artists and musicians who escaped prohibition and puritanical small-mindedness back home. They were drawn to the French capital for its creative vitality and freedom of expression.
The second wave of arrivals in Paris consisted mostly of writers with a completely different mind-set from that of their predecessors. They were self-exiles from the New World who had left a homeland they considered artistically, intellectually and sexually oppressive.
These aspiring authors were drawn to the city for its cultural dynamism, its urge for experimentation, and for its creative space to the individual to find his or her voice.
Moving to Paris in numbers, some of these young men had plenty of cash in their pockets, taking advantage of the strong exchange rate after the collapse of the French currency. Others arrived with the sole ambition of making it as an artist. They were loud, abrasive and most of the time intoxicated. Paris was a party.
Having assumed the traditional role of the Parisian hostess (salonnière), these powerful women acted as curators of young talent having divided the territories of art between them. They were trophy hunters.
Sylvia Beach (1887 – 1962, born Nancy Woodbridge Beach) was the daughter of a Presbyterian minister. In 1901 the family moved to Paris when her father was made minister at the American Church.
The family returned six years later and settled in Princeton. By 1916 she was back in Paris as a student of literature and a lesbian woman seeking independence. Two years later she met her lifelong partner, the writer and bookseller Adrienne Monnier (1892 – 1955).
In 1919 Sylvia Beach opened Shakespeare & Co, a bookshop and lending library specializing in Anglo-American literature. The premise soon became a meeting place for modernist authors and artists.
She was a loyal friend to many struggling writers, including James Joyce. In 1922, he trusted her to produce the first printing of Ulysses where publishers in London and New York City, fearful of prosecution, had refused to touch the novel.
Harlem-on-the-Seine
There was another group of gifted Americans keen to leave the country. In the course of the 1900s Harlem had established itself as a center of African-American culture.
By the early 1920s Black music and theatre were well established. This was a talented but restless generation of artists that felt the urge to escape segregation. By the mid-1920s, many cultural torchbearers had left Harlem for Paris.
One of the first to leave was Louis Mitchell (1885 – 1957), a drummer with a fine tenor voice who had settled in Manhattan in 1912 to create his own band.
His performances at the Café des Beaux-Arts on 40th Street and 6th Avenue were admired by young Irving Berlin. Having spent some time in London, Mitchell settled in Paris. His music took Montmartre by storm.
He encouraged other African-American musicians to come and share in the city’s passion for jazz.
Living in Paris was cheap, club life roaring and alcohol flowing. Most importantly: there were no racial Jim Crow laws. Black Americans arrived in droves, especially after the Volstead Act had gone into effect in January 1920.
There were Black writers too who made the journey to Paris, including Langston Hughes (1901 – 1967), one of a group of young African-American authors whose stories and poems dealt with racial themes and taboos that challenged the conventions of a white-oriented literary culture.
Harlem moved to Paris. The impact these newcomers made on local culture was immense. As the artistic climate became increasingly experimental, modernist artists courted Black personalities such as Henry Crowder (1890–1955) and Langston Hughes for their sense of style and vitality. From a cultural point of view their presence provided a boost to French and European art and entertainment.
Transfer
During the twenty-one years from 1919 to 1940 the number of English-speaking authors who lived as expatriates in Paris included some of the most important literary figures of the time.
Henry Valentine Miller (1891 – 1980) was one of the young “nomads” who arrived in the French capital with a “fuck it all” mentality. Born in 1891 at 450 East 85th Street, Manhattan, into a family of Lutheran German immigrants, he had spent the first nine years of his life at 662 Driggs Avenue, Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
A restless and rebellious young man who hated and rejected most of what his parents America stood for, he – like many other talented youngsters of his generation – was desperate to run off.
Leaving behind a tempestuous marriage and carrying with him a novel in progress under the title Crazy Cock (the manuscript was rediscovered in 1988 by his biographer Mary Dearborn and published three years later), he settled in Paris in 1930 where – having met her in 1932 – he was supported by his Franco-American lover and fellow writer Anaïs Nin.
To Henry Miller and other young Americans Paris functioned as bar, bedroom and brothel. He intensely enjoyed the city’s relaxed attitude towards erotic entertainment that was symbolized by the emergence of Josephine Baker.
The Afro-American dancer had created a sensation in October 1925 after her debut in the Revue Nègre at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées where, dressed in pearls and feathers, she performed her “Danse Sauvage” to a rapturous audience.
Paris acquired the reputation of a hothouse of naughtiness. Miller caught the atmosphere in his writing.
Jack Kahane was born in Manchester in 1887, the son of Rumanian Jewish immigrants. In 1929, he established the Obelisk Press and moved to Paris in order to escape British censorship.
He published pornography to make a living and, at the same time, sponsor the publication of fiction that was considered too risky by other houses, including D. H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover. In 1934 he took a gamble to accept Miller’s “unpublishable” novel Tropic of Cancer. The book carried the explicit warning that it must “not be taken into Great Britain or USA.”
The novel set a new standard for graphic sexual language and imagery that shook Anglo-American censorship to the core. It remained banned for a generation, by which time it had become part of post-war cultural folklore.
Miller re-interpreted the artist’s role in society. He presented himself as one of the “Renegade Apaches” organizing raids not from the borders of Mexico, but from the Parisian frontiers of a seedy underworld – a rebel in pursuit of a raw urban aesthetic, finding a distinctly American voice in the process.
Expatriate activity had been at its most intense during the 1920s. It taught Paris that the Old World was losing its “superior” status as the realization dawned that American science and technology were progressing rapidly.
The rejection of Yankee materialism in comparison to Europe’s refined civilization was outdated by the 1930s. Another prospect emerged instead, one that projected America as a potential storehouse of the Old World’s imperiled culture – the United States, in the words of Tom Paine, as an “asylum” for persecuted Europeans.
The party faltered on Back Tuesday when on October 29, 1929, stock prices collapsed on Wall Street, ushering in a period of Great Depression in both the United States and Europe.
Most (not all) American writers, artists and entertainers living in Paris left during the 1930s as it became increasingly clear that war was inevitable.
The majority of them settled in Manhattan bringing with them a wealth of ideas and experiences. They revitalized America’s post-war cultural landscape and facilitated the transfer of the avant-garde from Montmartre to Manhattan.
CREDITS
NEW YORK ALMANACK
Illustrations, from above: Mabel Dwight “Boulevard des Italiens,” 1927; The illustrated title page of the first edition of De orbe novo (1530); Nelson Beach Greene’s “Newyorkitis,” 1914; La Closerie des Lilas, Le Café de la Société Artistique et Littéraire Française et Etrangère, 171, Boulevard de Montparnasse, Paris, 1909; Louis Mitchell’s band setting Paris alight; Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin; and Paul Colin’s “Josephine Baker,” 1925 (Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery).
JUDITH BERDY
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
Congregation Shearith Israel, located since 1897 on West 70th Street and Central Park West, traces its origins to the arrival of persecuted Jews from Recife, Brazil, to the Dutch colony of New Amsterdam in 1654. This was arguably the first arrival and settlement of Jews as a religious community in the United States. New York’s history as a port and colonial imperial hub makes the history of New York the study of diasporas. Shearith Israel links the history of New York to Sephardi diasporas and Atlantic history
In the northeast of Brazil, Recife was home to the oldest Jewish community in the Americas, dating back to 1534. Many Portuguese Jews were forced Christian converts, known then as New Christians or conversos, after King Manuel’s 1496 edict left them with the choice of conversion or expulsion. After the colonization of Brazil, some of these conversos found refuge in Recife, where they could practice Judaism in secret. Other conversos used their commercial networks to settle in Amsterdam, becoming brokers in the transatlantic sugar trade. Later, in 1630, the Dutch conquest of Recife brought new Jewish settlers and religious toleration to the crypto-Jews. However, in 1654 the Portuguese reconquest of Recife from the Dutch brought a new wave of forced migrations. Two hundred Jewish families returned to Amsterdam, others sought refuge in the Caribbean, and a few left for New Amsterdam.
Jewish Settlement in New York
In September of 1654, twenty-three Jewish refugees from Recife arrived in New York. Upon arrival, this group of Jews from Recife was not welcomed by the colony’s director-general, Peter Stuyvesant. It became apparent that the Dutch Brazilian enclaves’ religious toleration did not apply to the New Netherlands. Unlike their North American counterparts, Sephardic Jews represented an important asset for the plantation economy for the Dutch in Brazil. Despite Stuyvesant’s objections, this group of newly arrived Jews appealed directly to the West Indian Company. In 1655 the Company granted Jews the right to stay, recognizing their loyalty and investment in the company as shareholders. Additionally, the company also granted Jews the right to trade in the Hudson and Delaware valleys.
Since the days of New Amsterdam, Jews in New York worshipped in private spaces. This changed in April 1730 with the consecration of the first synagogue. In gathering funds for the synagogue’s construction, the role of the transatlantic networks was again evident. Overseas donations, which came from places as far as London or Curaçao, made up a large part of the construction funds. Although this first synagogue was consecrated as Sephardic, throughout the eighteenth century, the majority of worshippers were already Ashkenazi.
Shearith Israel became the synagogue for all New York Jews, although events such as the American Revolution divided the community between loyalists and revolutionaries. Despite any divisions, the American context offered a unique opportunity for Sephardic and Ashkenazi Jews to interact in shared spaces, a remarkable difference from the European experience, in which both groups had their own synagogues, cemeteries, and preferred languages. However, this unity only lasted for so long. As early as 1728, Ashkenazi Jews were already the majority Jewish community in New York. By 1825, due to geographical dispersion and tensions over rituals, they separated from Shearith Israel and established their own congregation, B’nai Jeshurun.
Assimilation and Neoclassical Architecture
The Jewish assimilation experience in the United States contrasted with the European one. Unlike Europe, the colonial context and the United States’ settlement by waves of immigrants offered Jews the possibility of assimilation into a land of cultural diversity. In more homogenous societies, Jews often found themselves easily singled out as outsiders, but the United States’ religious heterogeneity meant that Jews were a group among many. This particular assimilation process is evident in the adoption of neoclassicism as the preferred architectural style for Reform Jewish congregations in the United States. While in Europe, religious minorities occupied marginalized spaces, where places of worship often evoked orientalist architecture, in the United States, the ethos of assimilation seemed to promote an architecture that could blend in.
Architect of the current Shearith Israel synagogue, Arnold W. Brunner (1857-1925), was a strong proponent of classicism. Brunner theorized classicism as an architecture linking Jews both to Antiquity or the time before Jewish dispersion and western modernity. However, the preference for neoclassical architecture was not unique to Brunner. Shearith Israel’s previous synagogue on Crosby street also borrowed from Greek and Roman architecture by incorporating elements seen in the Temple of Athena Nike and the Temple of Fortuna Virilis.
In late nineteenth New York City, the adoption of neoclassical architecture also served as an attempt to differentiate Reform Jews from other groups such as immigrant Orthodox Jews at a time of public concern over immigration and poverty. Additionally, the Columbian Exposition of 1893 contributed to the popularization of classicism as the solution to urban social decay. The expositions’ main theme, the White City, reinforced the contrast between neoclassical planned urbanity with polluted, crowded, and crime-ridden cities.
Architect of the current Shearith Israel synagogue, Arnold W. Brunner (1857-1925), was a strong proponent of classicism. Brunner theorized classicism as an architecture linking Jews both to Antiquity or the time before Jewish dispersion and western modernity. However, the preference for neoclassical architecture was not unique to Brunner. Shearith Israel’s previous synagogue on Crosby street also borrowed from Greek and Roman architecture by incorporating elements seen in the Temple of Athena Nike and the Temple of Fortuna Virilis.
In late nineteenth New York City, the adoption of neoclassical architecture also served as an attempt to differentiate Reform Jews from other groups such as immigrant Orthodox Jews at a time of public concern over immigration and poverty. Additionally, the Columbian Exposition of 1893 contributed to the popularization of classicism as the solution to urban social decay. The expositions’ main theme, the White City, reinforced the contrast between neoclassical planned urbanity with polluted, crowded, and crime-ridden cities.
Another interested aspect of Shearith Israel is its cemetery, which has been moved four times! The congregation’s website places the oldest of its cemeteries at Chatham Square on what is now St. James Street. The first internment dates to 1683. In 1823, the 11th Street cemetery became the Synagogue’s next cemetery location, after a city ordinance banned burials below Canal Street. Among those buried at the 11th Street, location are Revolutionary war veteran, Ephraim Hart, and the noted painter, Joshua A. Canter. Throughout the 19th-century, parts of the cemetery were moved and the burial grounds were made smaller. In 1830, the street grid forced the cemetery to relocate to 21st Street, just west of Sixth Avenue. When New York City prohibited burial in Manhattan below 86th Street in 1851, the Synagogue’s cemetery finally moved to Queens. You can see traces of all three former locations in Manhattan to this day.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 15TH, 6:30 PM. GALLERY RIVAA WALK THRU THE EXHIBIT WITH HISTORICAL SOCIETY’S JUDITH BERDY AND PHOTOGRAPHER CHRIS VAIL
Chris Vail is a documentary and news photographer.
Some of the work displayed on this site is part fo a project on regional Mexican music. It started as a photo essay for the LA Times on music in the Mexican state of Veracruz. The research for that assignment opened up a rich world of traditional music where the different genres of Mexican son vary by geographic location and historical influences.
Chris currently lives on Roosevelt Island in New York City.
Julio Yarce is currently a Library and Information Studies student at CUNY Queens College. In his spare time, he likes to read and write about New York’s history and its global links to European and other diasporas. He holds graduate degrees in European and Mediterranean history from the University of Miami and French Studies from New York UniversityJUDITH BERDY
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
Eastern wild turkeys (Meleagris gallopavo) are native to New York State and are believed to have been in North America before humans inhabited the continent, though their history within New York is checkered.
Wild turkeys occupied New York State when it was first colonized by Europeans. However, they lost much of their habitat when local forests were cleared by settlers for timber and to create farmland. Between habitat loss and unregulated hunting, most of the wild turkeys in New York were exterminated by the mid-1840s.
It wasn’t until around 1948 that they began to return, crossing into Western New York from Northern Pennsylvania. With the help of a 1959 program instituted by the State Conservation Department that involved reintroducing turkeys to areas throughout New York, numbers of wild turkeys began to grow again in the state.
This past August, community scientists from around the state reported nearly 1,800 observations of hen turkeys and poults to the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation (DEC). Productivity (e.g., the number of poults per hen) this past summer was the highest DEC has documented since 2013 and the 3rd highest since the survey began in 2005.
However, turkey populations in New York State peaked in the late 1990s and early 2000s and over the past decade, turkey productivity has consistently been below average, leading to lower populations.
The larger number of turkeys this year was likely the result of a dry and warm nesting season. The late June rains don’t appear to have negatively impacted turkey (and other ground nesting birds).
Wild turkeys generally live in woods, mountain forests, and wooded swamps, preferring areas with a mixture of woodland and open clearings. They can fly, but typically get around by walking or running. They usually roost at night in tall trees to avoid predators, but create their nesting sites on the ground in small depressions lined with grasses and leaves.
The turkey breeding season begins in early April and continues through early June. During this time, the toms perform courtship displays. They will strut, fluff their feathers, drag their wings, and gobble to attract the attention of hens. A single tom will mate with many hens.
After mating, the hen goes off by herself to nest. Over a period of two weeks, the hen lays 10 to 12 cream-colored eggs which hatch after 28 days of incubation, usually in late May or early June. The hen will then move her young, called “poults,” into grassy areas where they can feed on the abundant supply of insects.
Young poults are preyed upon by domestic dogs, coyotes, raccoons, skunks, and great-horned owls, among other predators. Most poults can fly about two to three weeks after they are born. While unable to fly, they are particularly vulnerable to predators. Around 60%-70% of poults die during their first four weeks after hatching.
Once they are able to fly, they will roost in trees at night to avoid predators. Turkeys generally have a lifespan of three to four years in the wild.
Eastern wild turkeys change their diets based on the season. In spring and summer, they feed on a wide variety of plants and insects. In the fall, they eat acorns, corn, oats, and other seasonal plants and nuts. When winter comes they depend on any plants, seeds, nuts, and fruits left over from the fall. They are very adaptable, and are able to live up to two weeks without food.
Photo: A group of turkeys on Staten Island (photo by Katrina Toal / NYC Parks)
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 15TH, 6:30 PM. GALLERY RIVAA WALK THRU THE EXHIBIT WITH HISTORICAL SOCIETY’S JUDITH BERDY AND PHOTOGRAPHER CHRIS VAIL
Chris Vail is a documentary and news photographer.
Some of the work displayed on this site is part fo a project on regional Mexican music. It started as a photo essay for the LA Times on music in the Mexican state of Veracruz. The research for that assignment opened up a rich world of traditional music where the different genres of Mexican son vary by geographic location and historical influences.
Chris currently lives on Roosevelt Island in New York City.
CREDITS
NEW YORK ALMANACK
JUDITH BERDY
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
