Lower Manhattan’s Monument to a Ship That Never Arrived in New York to Shine Once Again
The Titanic Memorial Lighthouse, at the corner of Pearl and Fulton Streets since 1976, has been restored by the South Street Seaport Museum.
After a year of stabilization and refurbishment, the restoration of the Titanic Memorial Lighthouse by the South Street Seaport Museum is nearing completion.
Museum president Captain Jonathan Boulware reported to Community Board 1 members that programmers were finalizing the project and configuring the Memorial’s time ball, a long-dormant horological aid. A large metal globe that once descended a pole precisely at the stroke of noon each day (triggered by a telegraphic signal from the U.S. Naval Observatory in Washington, D.C.), the time ball of the Titanic Memorial Lighthouse enabled sailors aboard ships offshore to calibrate their marine chronometers, needed for celestial navigation and the determination of longitude at sea. (This device was the origin of the now-renowned Times Square ball drop on New York’s Eve.) “That maritime tradition will now happen again every day at noon,” Mr. Boulware said.
Above: The Titanic Memorial Lighthouse was originally located atop the now-demolished Seamen’s Church Institute at the corner of South Street and Coenties Slip, on the site of what is now Vietnam Veterans Plaza. Below: The “time ball” at the top of the lighthouse descended a pole precisely at the stroke of noon each day, triggered by a telegraphic signal from the U.S. Naval Observatory in Washington, D.C.
This local memorial to the 1912 sinking of the RMS Titanic has been hiding in plain sight at the corner at the corner of Pearl and Fulton Streets for five decades. Originally perched atop the Seamen’s Church Institute (a philanthropic organization that provides social services to mariners) at the corner of South Street and Coenties Slip, it was dedicated on April 15, 1913, the one-year anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. Designed by the architectural firm Warren and Wetmore (who created Grand Central Terminal), the Titanic Memorial Lighthouse featured a trio of 2500-candle power mercury lamps, the emerald beams from which could be seen ten miles out at sea.
“There is a new set of lights in there, which are green,” Captain Boulware noted. “When the lighthouse was erected on the Seamen’s Church building on Lower South Street in 1913, it had three green lanterns, which were deliberately intended to avoid confusion with an actual lighthouse.”
The South Street Seaport Museum saved the Titanic Memorial Lighthouse a half century ago, by arranging to accept the structure as a donation when the Seamen’s Church Institute building was demolished in the mid-1970s. The Titanic Memorial was initially moved to Pier 16 and then in 1976, after a partial restoration, the lighthouse was moved to its current location atop a lighthouse-like base at Titanic Memorial Park where it welcomes visitors to the South Street Seaport Historic District.
“We also had a treatment for the plinth, the base, which is not part of the artifact itself,” Captain Boulware added, “but inhabits one of this object’s multiple roles, that of wayfinding, the entry point to the Seaport, making it really clear where you are. We’re already finding that people say, ‘meet by the lighthouse.’”
“The Titanic Memorial Lighthouse will again shine in Lower Manhattan as a beacon of history and hope in honor of those lost in the Titanic disaster,” he said, suggesting the lighthouse as a new locale for “a downtown New Year’s Eve celebration for New Yorkers.”
Matthew Fenton
CREDITS
THE BROADSHEET
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.
During the Covid pandemic in 2020 the Department of Records & Information Services assigned several Municipal Archives staff to assignments that could be completed remotely. The projects included transcribing collection inventories, lists, finding guides and other descriptive materials into searchable databases and spreadsheets.
Pen-maker John Foley to Mayor Abram Hewitt, 1887. Early Mayors records, NYC Municipal Archives.
Recently, archivist Cynthia Brenwall resumed transcribing descriptions of documents in the Early Mayors’ collection. This series comprises correspondence and documents from New York City mayoral administrations from 1826 through 1897 and totals 157.5 cubic feet. The collection had been assembled by Rebecca Rankin during her 32-year tenure as the Director of the Municipal Library between 1920 and 1952. This was a core collection in the Municipal Archives when it opened in 1952, and remains one of the most important series documenting nineteenth-century government and policies.
One feature of the correspondence noted by Ms. Brenwall during her work in 2020 and again more recently, is the elaborate commercially produced stationery and letterheads used by businesses and governments. This week For the Record takes a closer look at these wonderful works of art that defined an era of letter writing.
Real-Estate Union letterhead form 1893. Early Mayors records, NYC Municipal Archives.
An example of the original documents that were transcribed by NYC Municipal Archives staff in 2020. Entry 146 is the reference to the Real-Estate Union letterhead shown above.
Pastor Nathan Hubbell to Mayor Gilroy, 1893. Early Mayors records, NYC Municipal Archives.
Johnson & Johnson Company, 1893. Early Mayors records, NYC Municipal Archives.
Twine, rope, cord and hammock makers the Travers Brother Company highlighted the products that they produced in this elaborate letterhead. 1892. Early Mayors records, NYC Municipal Archives.
Sherriff John J. Gorman to Mayor Grant in 1893. Early Mayors records, NYC Municipal Archives.
Leo Schlesinger & Company was located on Crosby Street and manufactured tin toys, among other items. 1893. Early Mayors records, NYC Municipal Archives.
The 1893 letterhead for the Tiffany Glass & Decorating Company the graphic logo of the original glass company. Early Mayors records, NYC Municipal Archives.
Technically, the term letterhead did not appear until 1890. Before then, it was simply called “letter paper.” The rich illustrations depicted on the stationery corresponds with industrialization in America. By the 1860s, the images became more detailed and creative. It was a period when Americans could see their growing nation reflected in the artwork on their bills and correspondence.
The primary role of these illustrations was publicity. The images show busy factories, bustling street corners, and bold bank buildings. Government agency and department correspondence visually conveys the nature of their responsibilities.
While the content of the letters in the Early Mayors’ collection might be standard government business, the stationery offers a delight for the eye and creates a window into the business and government culture of a time gone by. For more examples, readers are also invited to review two For the Record articles published in 2020: The Transcription Project, Early Mayors’ Collection and Early Mayors Collection Part 2
The Grand Union Hotel was located across the street from the Grand Central Depot. 1888. Early Mayors records, NYC Municipal Archives.
William McCoy to Mayor Thomas Gilroy shows off the work of both the engraver and designer of this letterhead. Early Mayors records, NYC Municipal Archives.
This detailed letterhead features an image of a beehive to promote the business of a grocery and tea dealing company. Letter from the office of Callahan and Kemp sent to Mayor Hugh Grant, 1889. Early Mayors records, NYC Municipal Archives.
Eureka Fire Hose Company logo on a letter dated 1893. Early Mayors records, NYC Municipal Archives.
STOP BY THE RIHS VISITOR CENTER FOR GREAT GIFTS
GET YOUR RIHS EXCLUSIVE TRAM 50 TEE SHIRT IN ADULT SIZES AT THE RIHS KIOSK $20-
CREDITS
New York Municipal Archives
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.
EDEN, The House of Art, invites you to discover Dorit Levinstein’s Park Avenue Exhibition, a vibrant open-air presentation set along one of Manhattan’s most iconic avenues.
On view from May 2026 to May 2027, the exhibition spans Park Avenue from 34th to 39th Streets, introducing nine monumental sculptures that bring movement, color, and rhythm into the urban landscape.
Through her signature visual language, Levinstein transforms the city into a living gallery, creating moments of joy, energy, and artistic discovery in the heart of New York.
On view May 2026 – May 2027 Park Avenue, NYC 34th–39th Streets
GLANCE FROM YOUR CAR AT THESE CREATURES
STOP BY THE RIHS VISITOR CENTER FOR GREAT GIFTS
GET YOUR RIHS EXCLUSIVE TRAM 50 TEE SHIRT IN ADULT SIZES AT THE RIHS KIOSK $20-
CREDITS
EDEN 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.
THE INFLATABLE TRAM TRIED TO TAKE OFF DURING HE CEREMONY AND JOIN THE CABINS MID AIR.
CUTTING THE 50TH BIRTHDAY CAKE WITH B.J. JONES.
THE MEETING OF THE TWO POLIVYS: LANCE POLIVY NEW RIOC COUNSEL & VERY DISTANT RELATIVE, (MAYBE) AND RIOC BOARD MEMBER HOWARD POLIVY
GET YOUR RIHS EXCLUSIVE TRAM 50 TEE SHIRT IN ADULT SIZES AT THE RIHS KIOSK $20-
CREDITS
SHARON CARSON
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.
CELEBRATE THE TRAM’S 50TH BIRTHDAY THURSDAY, MAY 28TH TRAM PLAZA 3 P.M. ALL ARE WELCOME!!
The Midcentury Street Photographer
who
Documented New Yorkers
in all their raw,
Unfiltered Humanity
Lisette Model, born into an upper-class Jewish-Catholic family in Vienna in 1901, didn’t set out to be a photographer.
Ephemeral New York
Tuesday, May 26, 2026
Issue # 1686
As a young woman she moved to Paris and studied music with Modernist composer Arnold Schoenberg.
Through Schoenberg, she was introduced to the emerging style of German Expressionism, in which painters used aggressive brushstrokes and exaggerated forms to highlight the psychological turmoil of modern life.
After abandoning a music career, Model thought she would become a darkroom technician—then realized taking photos was more to her liking. She borrowed a 35 millimeter camera from her sister and set out to document men and women lounging on the beach in Nice.
“The nascent photographer lifted the camera to her eye and captured them in a series of images that draw out the awkwardness of their well-fed, well-dressed bodies and the fascination of faces modeled by age, which appear almost grotesque, but also striking, even sculptural,” states Artsy.
After marrying Russian-born painter Evsa Model in 1937 and immigrating with him to New York one year later amid growing antisemitism in Europe, she committed herself to a career as a visual artist.
Model published photos in magazines like PM and Harper’s Bazaar, and she became part of the city’s postwar photography community. The couple’s first Gotham home was in the Master Apartments on Riverside Drive.
Drawing on the influence of German Expressionism, she pioneered a different kind of street photography, relying on tilted angles and close-ups to expose the raw, unposed, and unbeautiful sides of her subjects and reflect their inner emotions rather than the city outside.
One of Model’s earliest photos, taken in the 1940s for Harper’s Bazaar, brought her to Coney Island (second photo). “There she found a corpulent woman in a black bathing suit and with a beaming expression that radiated confidence and joyfulness,” states Artsy.
“Model captured this woman—who would become immortalized in her photographs as the Coney Island bather—standing in a high crouch and lying on her side with her head propped up on one arm.”
Jazz clubs and the Lower East Side became popular haunts for Model. There she found her subjects in unguarded moments, displaying their imperfect humanity against an unsentimental (and often close-cropped) stage or streetscape.
Unsparing portraits weren’t her only focus. Model seemed to be captivated by street life of New York City, its vitality and mystery. She produced a series of photos that reveal the city’s many layers in shadows and glass reflections.
“Then, as now, the storefront served as mirror and stage, showcasing a performative play of products and pedestrians,” wrote MOMA under a 1939 photo exhibited in the museum: “Reflections, Fifth Avenue, New York.” (fourth photo)
Unsparing portraits weren’t her only focus. Model seemed to be captivated by street life of New York City, its vitality and mystery. She produced a series of photos that reveal the city’s many layers in shadows and glass reflections.
“Then, as now, the storefront served as mirror and stage, showcasing a performative play of products and pedestrians,” wrote MOMA under a 1939 photo exhibited in the museum: “Reflections, Fifth Avenue, New York.” (fourth photo)
Model continued teaching and taking photos through the 1970s. In 1982, she died of heart failure. Intensely private, she seemed to give few formal interviews or publicly share thoughts about her craft.
She apparently did leave one simple piece of advice: “Never take a picture of anything you are not passionately interested in” is a quote often attributed to her.
CREDITS
Ephemeral New York
[Top photo, “Little Man, Lower East Side,” National Gallery of Art; second photo, “Coney Island,” MOMA; third photo: “Lower East Side,” Sotheby’s; fourth photo: “Reflections, Fifth Avenue, New York,” National Gallery of Art; fifth photo, “Lower East Side,” MOMA; sixth photo: “Window Reflections,” MOMA; seventh photo: “Sammy’s, New York,” Whitney Museum of Art]
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.
CELEBRATE THE TRAM’S 50TH BIRTHDAY THURSDAY, MAY 28TH TRAM PLAZA 3 P.M. ALL ARE WELCOME!!
PROPOSALS FOR CONSIDERATION OF A
ROOSEVELT ISLAND MUSEUM
OF
TECHNOLOGY, ART & SCIENCE
FRIENDS OF ROOSEVELT ISLANDS STEAM PLANT
SEPTEMBER 17, 2013
While looking thru the RIHS files last week, I came upon a memo from RIOC memo entititled “Request for Expressions of Interest to attract reuse or redevelopment of the Steam Plant. The only response was that of the one attached from FRISP.
Anyone interested is welcome to see the entire file.
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ROOSEVELT ISLAND HISTORICAL SOCIETY ARCHIVES 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.
Arnold Rothstein was of the most famous of America’s 20th century criminal masterminds, and for more than 20 years, the New York City native spent his summers in Saratoga Springs, gambling on the horses by day – and just plain gambling by night.
He first started coming to Saratoga on a regular basis in 1904, when he was 22 years old, and he largely gave up on Saratoga after 1925 – by then, he was able to make so much money bootlegging liquor that he no longer spent much time gambling at the Saratoga Race Course.
In his gambling, he never minded doing things to tweak the odds in his favor – and his most audacious tweak, the fixing of the 1919 Chicago White Sox-Cincinnati Reds World Series, was at least discussed at his famous and exclusive private club in Saratoga, The Brook.
Rothstein was variously known as “The Brain” or “The Big Bankroll” – he was said to have never made a mistake with numbers. He was always thinking a step ahead and was a ready source of cash, though always with repayment at high interest.
It was that reputation that led to his involvement in the White Sox’s 1919 Chicago World Series scandal, which would have the team forever after known as the “Black Sox,” though none of the involved players was ever convicted of a crime, and neither were any of the gamblers.
Rothstein denied involvement, though there’s no question that his name was being thrown around by nearly everyone.
The one person the scandal couldn’t have happened without, though, was Charlie Comiskey, the owner of the White Sox, and builder of the legendary Comiskey Park, demolished in 1991.
The White Sox, with Shoeless Joe Jackson (1887-1951) as one of their leading hitters, were one of the great teams of all time, but Comiskey was known as a cheapskate who paid his players poorly, taking advantage of the “reserve clause,” a major league baseball policy that bound a player forever to the team that first signed him, unless he was traded.
During the 1919 season, when star pitcher Eddie Cicotte (1884-1969) reached 29 wins, Comiskey ordered the manager to bench him, to avoid having to pay a $10,000 bonus promised if he won 30 games.
Not surprisingly, many of the players hated him. With Cicotte among their leaders, they begin thinking about whether they could make a lot more money from gamblers by agreeing to lose the World Series to the Reds, even though the White Sox were the much better team.
The gamblers would be able to get a big payoff by betting on the long-shot Reds, secretly knowing that the Reds were going to win.
The White Sox were well-secured in first place in August, when the rich, the sports gamblers, and the mob were mixing in Saratoga Springs, even though the World Series was many weeks away.
At Rothstein’s club, The Brook, there would later be testimony that a Chicago gambler and wire service operator, Mont Tennes, was talking about having inside information that the World Series was going to be fixed.
Tennes told wealthy restaurateur and recreational gambler Charles Weeghman, who until recently had owned the Chicago Cubs, that he had heard the rumors from Rothstein himself, and from other gamblers including Nat Evans and Abe Attell.
Weeks later, it would be Attell – a former lightweight boxer turned professional gambler – who made actual contact with the White Sox players.
The players – eight to ten of them – wanted $10,000 each to throw the series. The fix was going to cost $100,000. Only one person in the underworld, Rothstein, had that kind of money, so it made sense that Attell turned to him.
One of the enduring questions is whether Attell turned to Rothstein for the money, or Rothstein was the fix’s mastermind who sent Attell to Chicago.
In any event, the players saw almost none of the promised payoffs. Cicotte was given $1,000 after the Cubs lost the first game, but few if any of the other promised payoffs came through.
Rumors about the series being fixed started almost immediately, and Rothstein was at the center of the rumors. In the end, the Reds won the World Series in eight games (the World Series was a nine-game series at that time.)
After the series was over Monte Tennes saw Weeghman in a Chicago barbershop, and reminded him of the conversation they’d had earlier in Saratoga Springs.
Weeghman remembered; he would later testify that he just didn’t believe it was possible to fix the World Series.
Eventually, in 1920, there would be a Chicago grand jury investigation. Weeghman testified to what he heard in Saratoga; by then, three players, including Cicotte and Jackson, had made police confessions.
On the advice of his New York City lawyer, Rothstein went before the grand jury, and denied any knowledge of the fix. In the end, eight players were indicted, as were Attell and several other gamblers.
Rothstein wasn’t indicted. By the time the case went to trial, the player confessions and much of the other grand jury testimony had somehow disappeared from the district attorney’s files. The remaining evidence was unpersuasive, and everyone was acquitted.
If the series was fixed, no one was ever held legally responsible.
The Brook, out Church Street, near the corner with West, was the finest and best-known clubs in Saratoga Springs during its brief life. Rothstein knew that the gambling odds always favored the house, and believed running a house that appealed to richest visitors would be best for his business.
The food at The Brook was excellent, but there were no prices listed on the menu; his clientele was meant to be the sort who didn’t need to worry about such things.
Rothstein almost certainly was doing his best to manipulate horse races, including the 1921 Travers, which was won by a Rothstein-owned horse, Sporting Blood.
Arnold Rothstein was murdered in New York City in 1928 at age 46, but his Saratoga legacy lasted decades longer.
Editorial Notes on Upstate New York Crime Syndicates
Arnold Rothstein, Lanksy and his compatriot Bugsy Siegel (1906-1947) took part in pragmatic alliances with the dominate Italian crime syndicates operating in upstate New York.
In 1936, Luciano was convicted for his prostitution racket by the District Attorney Thomas E. Dewey and sentenced to 30-50 years in prison. Thanks to a deal made by Lansky, he was released after providing naval intelligence during the Second World War, and deported to Italy. His body was returned to the United States for burial.
Arnold Rothstein was also a mentor to Frank Costello (1891-1973), boss of Luciano’s crime syndicate . Costello spent several years in prison before retiring in 1957, following an assassination attempt ordered by Vito Genovese (1897-1969).
Rothstein is believed to have been killed over a poker debt in a game he thought was fixed, or possibly by Dutch Schultz in retaliation for the killing of his friend and associate Joey Noe by another Rothstein protege, Jack “Legs” Diamond (1897-1931).
Diamond was murdered in 1931 (probably by Schutlz’s orders) in Albany, NY on the evening of his acquittal in Troy, NY on kidnapping charges.
Dutch Schultz was killed at the Palace Chop House in Newark, New Jersey four years later, in 1935, after disobeying an order not to put a hit on Thomas Dewey.
JOIN US ON THURSDAY, MAY 28TH AT 3 P.M. TO CELEBRATE THE TRAM’S 50TH BIRTHDAY PARTY
The invitation with the date stamped in, just in case.
The Program for the Opening Ceremony
A Boarding Pass for Opening Day
I has watched Welfare Island for many years since I was a student working at the Goldwater Hospital in 1967. When I heard the Tram was opening, I walked over from my home at 65th Street on the evening of March 17th, 1967 and took my first ride that day.
ROOSEVELT ISLAND HISTORICAL SOCIETY ARCHIVES 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.
Archives of the Rooservelt Island Historical Society
Issue #1680
The invitation with the date stamped in, just in case.
The Program for the Opening Ceremony
A Boarding Pass for Opening Day
I has watched Welfare Island for many years since I was a student working at the Goldwater Hospital in 1967. When I heard the Tram was opening, I walked over from my home at 65th Street on the evening of March 17th, 1967 and took my first ride that day.
TRAM AT BUS STOP MARCH, 2010
TRAM AT MOTORGATE STORAGEFOR 16 YEARS
Finally, maybe a use?
CREDITS
ROOSEVELT ISLAND HISTORICAL SOCIETY ARCHIVES 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.
A 1913 or so postcard showing the Manhattan end of the Manhattan Bridge, looking east towards Brooklyn:
If that looks a bit more Parisian than you remember Chinatown as being, you’re not wrong. This is a fantasy in part, and some pleasantly-misguided design optimism in part. The colonnade is real, designed by Carrère and Hastings (the architects of the New York Public Library) and still there. Here’s an early photo of it, from the center of the bridge approach off Canal Street:
It’s a bit much.
If you look at the postcard, you can see that vehicular traffic got the grand arch in the center of the colonnade, while the streetcars wend behind the columns to the outer portion of the bridge deck. The bridge opened in 1909, streetcars started crossing it in 1912, and the BMT subway began crossing in 1913. The trains depicted on the right side, beyond the cube trees, are not accurate in their location or elevation: the subway dives underground as soon as it’s off the bridge.
The growth of vehicular traffic, and the eventual removal of streetcars form the bridge, meant that there were now cars on both faces of the colonnade, swerving around it as it interrupts the straight line from Canal Street to the bridge. The calm scene shown here did not last. Meanwhile the big open square that was created during the bridge construction by demolishing everything in the area bounded by Bayard Street, Canal Street, Forsythe Street, and the Bowery remained bereft of cube trees. 1916:
As far as I can tell from the 1924 aerial survey, there were some turn-around or storage tracks for the streetcars and not much else:
In 1975, Confucius Plaza, a complex including a high-rise apartment house, a public school, and shopping, opened in the south half of the square, and the rest was given over to traffic improvements:
It’s worth remembering that the bridge was constructed at the height of the City Beautiful movement in the US, and it was not completely insane to think that maybe a piece of Manhattan could be made to look like Paris. It didn’t work at the bridge plaza, and nearly all of the movement’s plans in NYC fell apart, but it’s hard to argue that wasteland and some storage tracks were better than a French garden landscape would have been.
ISLAND IN BLOOM
CREDITS
OLD STRUCTURES ENGINEERING 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.
Standing on the platform waiting for your train, did you ever think, “What do the NYC subway colors mean?” Is there a reason the colored bands of subway tiles that run along the platform wall are yellow at 23rd Street but green at 14th Street and red at Penn Station? These colored tiles are the remnants of a coded system from the Independent Subway, one of the three original subway systems that competed in the early days of New York City’s subterranean transit system. Today, we associate the colors of the subway – blue, red, orange, yellow, green, purple, grey, and brown – with their respective routes, but before the 1970s when a unified color coordination system was adopted, things were a little more complicated. New York Transit Museum curator Jodi Shapiro helps us break it down for you!
The Interborough Rapid Transit Company (IRT) was the first subway system to open in New York City in 1904. The first stop was the now-abandoned City Hall Station. The Brooklyn-Manhattan Transit Cooperation came along in 1923 after acquiring the Brooklyn Rapid Transit Company (BRT). The Independent Subway, the first city-owned system, opened in 1932. Each of these systems operated independently of each other until 1940 when the city took over operations of all lines. Before the systems were merged, each had their own wayfinding and identification systems.
The IRT used numbers to identify their lines, many of which have stayed the same to this day. The design of the stations by architects Heins and Lafarge under the direction of chief engineer William Barclay Parsons incorporated elaborate ornamentation including intricate terra-cotta mosaics. These mosaics, notes New York City Transit Museum curator Jodi Shapiro, may have been a piece of wayfinding in the IRT system. The unique mosaics at each stop related to the history or landmarks of the ground above. For example, at the Wall Street station, the mosaics depict the old wall erected at the northern border of Dutch New Amsterdam, at Columbus Circle, you see mosaics of ships Christopher Columbus sailed on. The BMT also used numbers to identify their routes, even going into double digits. Just as in the IRT Stations, the BMT stations boasts fanciful ornamentation.
The IND system identified its routes with letters and assigned colors to its stations to distinguish between local and express stops. The colors are signified in a band of tiles that run along the platform wall and provide the background for the station name. At every express stop, the color changes, rotating between five primary color families of red, yellow, green, blue and purple. These color shifts would signify to passengers where they could switch from an express to a local train. At express stations, the color is darker and the band of tiles is wider than at local stops. At local stops, the color is lighter.
There is no definitive answer as to why IND architect Squire J. Vickers chose the color-coordinated system he employed. New York Transit Museum curator Jodi Shapiro says it is one of the most common questions she gets asked. One popular theory is that the colors helped non-English speaking riders, or people who couldn’t read at all, navigate the system. “There isn’t anything that we were able to find that says definitively ‘This is the reason why we are doing that,” notes Shapiro, “It does make sense, and that’s part of the reason for the iconography used in the IRT stations and BMT stations.” Though there is no known document where Vickers explains himself yet, “It might be out there,” says Shapiro, “There may be some diaries of his that we don’t have where he runs down that logic. I hope we find it one day.”
Here’s how Vicker’s system worked. Let’s say you are in Queens riding west from Northern Boulevard which is purple. The next stop is 65th Street, another local stop, so it is also purple. Next, Jackson Heights-Roosevelt Ave., an express station. Here, a new color comes in, dark blue. The next five stations are all local, so they are a lighter shade of blue. At the next express stop, Forest Hills-71 Ave., the color changes green and all subsequent local stops are light green until the express stop at Union Turnpike-Kew Gardens. At Union Turnpike, the station colors change to yellow. You can see the assignment of station colors in the chart below, and compare them to the Pantone colors used in today’s station which can be found on the MTA website.
Squire Vickers’ subway color chart. Image courtesy of New York Transit Museum.
The IND stations have a minimalist aesthetic compared to the ornate IRT and BMT stations. Vickers had worked with architects Heins and Lafarge on IRT and BMT stations. The city-owned IND opened during the Great Depression, meaning the expensive ornamentation found in the stations of the former two systems just simply couldn’t be afforded. “City Hall was meant to be a showpiece,” notes Shapiro, but by the time of the IND, the system needed to be more utilitarian and cost-effective. The whole aesthetic was pared-down. The font used in IND stations is a machine-age san serif in heavy capitals, as opposed to the variety of fanciful fonts found in IRT and BMT stations.
There is no expensive terra-cotta, but instead visually clean tiles, that are also easy to physically clean. With artificial light, the minimal design helped make the stations appear bigger and brighter. “Maybe that played into the color choices also,” says Shapiro, Vickers likely chose “colors that would be discernible in artificial light and also not look dingy and have some kind of cheerful effect. There are yellows, greens, and blues, there are some reds. Yellow, green and blue are very natural colors: yellow like sunlight, green like grass, blue like water. I don’t think that’s an accident.” Another theory concerning color choice, maybe those colors are just what was available in large quantities from the manufacturer.
After the three subway systems merged in 1940, new stations were no longer designed according to the IND color system. It took decades for all of the color, letter, and number wayfinding systems to get organized into one cohesive network. “There was a huge amount of information being imparted to riders via signage and not only that, now you have to figure out how to manage all of these different routes,” Shapiro says of riding the subway after the merge. Perhaps most confusing were the route identification numbers and letters. You could get on a subway labeled 4, but depending on if it was an IRT or BMT 4, you’d either end up in the Bronx or Coney Island. Some riders relied on their knowledge of a hold-over from the elevated railroad systems, marker lights on the front of the subway car. Depending on the combination of white, red, yellow, or green lights, you could decipher where the train was headed.
By the 1950s, riders had had enough. The transit authority was inundated with complaints about the confusing signage and jumbled routes. It didn’t help that there were also no official subway maps. Until the first official subway map produced by the transit authority came out in 1958, maps were produced by private companies who could skew the information to their own advantage, such as a hotel making its location most prominent.
The first step to clarify and declutter subway information was the release of the Official New York Subway Map and Guide in 1958. This map assigned one color – black, red, and green – to each of the former systems, the IND, IRT, and BMT. The routes were superimposed onto a simplified map of the five boroughs. While this was a good first step, it only clarified the system on paper. In the stations themselves, people were still scrambling to find their way.
The Chrystie Street Connection, which opened in two phases in 1967 and 1968, rerouted eleven existing lines and threw the system into further chaos. Shapiro told Untapped New York that at least one operator took his car on the wrong track! In 1967, the New York City Transit Authority hired Unimark to finally overhaul the subway’s wayfinding. Unimark is an international design firm that at the time was headed by Massimo Vignelli and Bob Noorda. The company did its own research about graphical communication and studied other transit systems. They were also likely to influenced by the work of George Solomon, Stanley Goldstein, and Raleigh D’Adamo, three men who created maps, books, and studies suggesting ways to fix the subway. The Unimark system would need to be applied to not only the subway, but also New York City buses, the LIRR, and eventually the Metro-North.
Image via The Standards Manual/Pentagram
Vignelli and Noorda produced in 1970 what Shapiro refers to as “the Bible,”the Graphic Standards Manual. The manual is an exhaustive volume that instructs how every sign everywhere in the subway, bus, and train systems should look: inside a subway car, outside a subway car, inside a bus, outside a bus, hanging in a station, and on and on. The san serif font Vignelli and Noorda chose for signage provided “the easiest legibility from any angle whether the passenger is standing walking or riding.” They chose a rainbow of 22 different colors to assign to each subway line and gave the routes new names. While this was a major improvement, the system was still complicated and required a certain level of subway literacy to navigate. Vignelli and Noorda employed double letter names, such as the EE and GG, and colors were sometimes shared by different routes.
In 1979, instead of having a different color assigned to each separate route, colors were reassigned based on “trunk routes.” The trunk route is the portion of subway tracks that go through Manhattan. All trains that share a trunk route are the same color. For example, Lexington Ave’s 4,5,6 routes are all green, and Broadway’s N, Q, R, W routes are all yellow, regardless of their terminal destinations. G doesn’t go through Manhattan at all, and the 7 and L don’t share any trunk routes, they have their own colors. This is the color system we use today! However, it wasn’t until 1985 that all double letter routes were renamed.
Vignelli’s 1972 subway map, Map from the Metropolitan Transit Authority
While the colors are set now, the subway map is still evolving. New proposed designs were put on display in August 2020 in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. The simplified design was based on the beloved Vignelli map of the 1970s. In April 2025, a new map, or more ccurately a new diagram, was officially adopted. We spoke with map maker John Tauranac, who lead the design of the 1979 subway map, about his reaction to the new design.
Today, the mix of all three original subway lines along with changing architectural trends, new technology and works of art created for MTA’s Arts for Transit Program, make every subway station unique. “New York’s subway stations don’t look like subway stations anywhere else in the world, says Shapiro, “There is still some of the older stuff in there and its part of the charm of our system. If our system had been built all in one shot, by one group of people, it wouldn’t look as beautiful as it does. I think our system is beautiful, even though it is very idiosyncratic. There are so many cool things to look at.”
WHAT IS GOING ON HERE???
Protective wood is falling apart under the RI Bridge…DOT, time to wake up and see the damage
Sky high placement of Bus Stop signs. Are we an island of giants? Whose idea was it to place signs 10 feet in the air?
Two broken door windows at our deteriorating Post Office. The post office is in terrible conditon and neglected by the agency. Don’t blame the staff but complain upwards to negligent management.
CREDITS
UNTAPPED NEW YORK 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.
