THIS IS AN UPDATE TO THE STORY WE PUBLISHED ON TUESDAY, OCTOBER 25TH.
8/4/11. Carroll St. Bridge Renovation. The Carroll Street bridge over the Gowanus canal is going to be closed starting Tues. Aug. 9. File photo by Tom Callan
The EPA started dredging “Black Mayonnaise” from the bottom of the canal in 2020. An attempt to stabilize the Carroll Street Bridge ended up damaging the span’s delicate supports, which are now in need of repair before the bridge can reopen.File photo by Kevin Duggan
The Carroll Street Bridge will likely remain closed long past the currently-projected March 31 cutoff as federal and city agencies work to assess and address structural issues on the span.
Christos Tsiamis, the project manager of the Environmental Protection Agency’s Superfund site, said at a Jan. 25 meeting of the Gowanus Community Advisory Group that testing and repairs could take a year or longer, depending on how much damage is discovered in the structural supports of the 133-year-old bridge.
After a few months of pile driving, though, engineers realized the work was damaging the structure, and the EPA decided to reassess their plans for supporting the structure and cleaning up the 10 feet of infamous “Black Mayonnaise” beneath the Carroll Street Bridge and the Union Street bridges, Tsiamis said at a September meeting of the CAG.
Rather than scooping the sludge from the floor of the canal, the agency is planning to inject cement into it to solidify and prevent it from spreading or leeching toxic waste into the canal, a process known as In-Situ Stabilization. The cement will also stabilize the bridge.
“One of the things we’ve learned is that the substructure of the bridge is in worse condition than anyone understood,” said Brian Carr, assistant regional counsel at the EPA, at the January meeting. “There were repairs that were going to be needed one way or the other, and driving the piles in and all, if the bridge had been in decent condition, would have provided future stability for the bridge.”
Because of the unforeseen delicacy of the Progressive Era bridge, the pile-driving sped up the need for serious repairs. Because of the damage the construction caused, the city’s Department of Transportation and contractors working with the “potentially responsible parties” who are helping to fund the cleanup had to determine if the bridge was safe to hold pedestrians and cars again.
A simulation they performed revealed that the Carroll Street Bridge was in no way ready to reopen to traffic.
“So, what has to be done right now is there has to be a real-life assessment of the loads that the bridge can support,” Tsiamis said. “That is being done by what is called a load test.”
Over two to three months, engineers will test incrementally heavier loads on the bridge to see how it reacts to the additional weight. It remains to be seen what the results of those months of experiments will be, but if the needed repairs are superficial, Tsiamis said, he would expect them to take about six months post-testing. If the foundational supports need serious upgrades, the work is likely to take at least a year.
So far, all of the issues with the bridge are part of the lower, structural parts of the bridge, not the upper superstructure, and are not interfering with the mechanism that opens and closes the deck — so the city’s Landmarks Preservation Committee is not heavily involved with testing or repairs.
The Carroll Street Bridge is one of the oldest retractable bridges in the US, and was landmarked in 1987. Recent years have not been kind to the centenarian, which took a beating during Superstorm Sandy and received funding from the Federal Emergency Management Agency for repairs in 2013.
Local photographer Miska Draskoczy took glass-plate photos of historic Gowanus infrastructure, including the Carroll Street Bridge. Neighbors and preservationists worry about the future of the bridge as the EPA and city agencies assess new damage and plan repairs. Miska Draskoczy
CAG member Bev Watkins asked if the upcoming construction boon would be taken into consideration as repairs are done on the bridge — with the recent passage of the Gowanus rezoning, dozens of new buildings are expected to rise in coming years, and she worried that the vibrations of nearby pile-driving could undo new repairs.
“When you construct your house, you’re not thinking what features your neighbor is going to put,” Tsiamis said. “If [developers] go to do construction on land, they will need to take into account what is in their vicinity.”
DOT and other agencies would have to continue to monitor the bridges, he continued. Additionally, Carr said, the pile driving only caused damage when it was happening directly at the site of the bridge — it had been fine to put piles in even up to the very edge of the foundations.
Marlene Donnelly, another member, raised the issue of developers planning their construction without taking the historic structure into account, doubting that the effects of future development would really be kept track of by the city.
But that, Carr said, is beyond what the EPA can control — he recommended concerned bridge buffs take it up at Community Board 6 or with their local city councilmember.
#BELL SYSTEM MANHOLE COVER LOCATED JUST SOUTH OF BLACKWELL HOUSE ON THE EAST SIDE OF MAIN STREET SUMIT KAUR AND ED LITCHER GOT IT RIGHT
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
After a 3 year hiatus due to Covide-19, the Coler Art Show has returned. The show opened today at Coler. The works will be on display at the RIVAA Gallery later this year.
It is an exciting event that the resident artists exhibit the works done under the guidance of the Therapeutic Recreation Department. The art program is supported by the Coler Auxiliary, Angelica Fund and other donors.
The poster announcing the event.
Enter thru an enchanted forest
Above works are by Ramon Montalvo, Ramon Medina and Jean Jacques Anthony
Digital Coloring Art by Charmaine Dautlette
This is a collage
Above art from residents in the Memory Care Unit
Audrey Gray leads a group of residents including Ramon Medina, Sesay Emanuel and Zara Draggant who are writing their own biographies, creative stories and photographing each other. These photos were taken by the participants in the Coler garden.
Robert Fernandez, Art Therapist leads groups doing crafts, sand art among the many projects he leads
Beading is a weekly group activity that encourages creativity and brings out artisitic talents lead by Robert, a wonderful artist and therapist.
Sand art brings out creativity while making an artpiece in a small bottle.
The Weaving project with Cornell Tech and other island groups was spearheaded by Coler art therapist Maria Bravo
Jay Molina has been building cites and and all kinds of miniature constructions.
Jacqueline Kwedy and Judith Berdy of the Coler Auxilary celebrated the artworks and Therapeutic Recreation staff. It is the Auxiliary goal to support projects to make life better and encourage participation by Coler residents. We work closedly with Adminstration lead by Stephen Cutullo, Executive Director, Monsy Martinez, Administrator &, Jovemay Santos, Director of Therapeutic Recreation.
Saluting the TR staff for all their hard work with the residents.
The canteen has been turned into a wonderful showplace.
Everyone was treated to a dessert and some refreshments
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
Sources
JUDITH BERDY JACQUELINE KWEDY
THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
“Any Person Driving over this Bridge Faster than a Walk will be Subject to a Penalty of Five Dollars for Each Offence,” reads the central sign on the Carroll Street Bridge in Gowanus, Brooklyn. It’s a sign connected to an antiquated law that dates back to the early 1800s. The Carroll Street Bridge itself dates to 1889. The wood plank deck bridge is one of the last wooden bridges left in New York City that allows cars over it, and it is the oldest of the three retractable bridges left in the United States. With such credentials, it was designated a New York City landmark in 1987. Belgian blocks line the roads that lead up to the bridge, and amidst the raw, industrial state of the Gowanus Canal, you can easily imagine the bridge in use during the 19th and early 20th centuries.
Retractable, or retractile bridges, open to allow water vessels to pass through, and the Carroll Street Bridge uses a mechanism that takes the whole span of the bridge and rolls it diagonally on wheels along steel rails using pulleys and wire cables. It was originally powered by steam, but was converted to electric in 1907-08. It may be inferred through historic documents that the use of a retractable bridge at this span was possibly due to the fact that an earlier design for the bridge would have required acquiring a piece of private property that the Common Council was having trouble purchasing at the time. The Landmarks Preservation Commission noted that retractable bridges are “employed to provide channel clearance in locations where other bridge types are impractical.”
The Carroll Street Bridge is an example of a trapezoidal-shaped retractable bridge. It spans 107 feet long with a steel overhead stay frame in a latticework pattern that supports steel cables. The bridge also has two pedestrian walkways, also of wood, and the steel is painted in a bright blue.
Many notable names were involved in the construction of the Carroll Street Bridge. Robert van Buren, a descendant of U.S. President Martin van Buren and Chief Engineer of the Bureau of Construction, oversaw the project. A notable civil engineer, Charles O.H. Fritzche, developed the mechanical system. A subsidiary of the Cooper, Hewitt & Company, New Jersey Steel and Iron, manufactured the steel.
In the 1980s, the bridge was in such poor shape, it had to be closed to traffic but a rehabilitation took place just in time for its 100th anniversary. Today, the bridge is operated by the New York City Department of Transportation (NYC DOT). When someone needs a bridge to open in order to pass, they must contact the DOT and allow for two hours advanced notice.
The Carroll Street Bridge is one of five bridges on the Gowanus Canal that are movable. In addition to walking across the bridge, one of the best way to experience it is by kayaking with the Gowanus Dredgers (our tours with them will return this year, stay tuned!) From below, you can see the infrastructure of the historic bridge up close and personal.
The Carroll Street Bridge is one of 150+ entries in our book Secret Brooklyn. You can get an autographed copy from us!
THE RUINS OF THE ABANDONED RIVERSIDE HOSPITAL ON NORTH BROTHER ISLAND.
TO VIEW THIS AND OTHER EAST RIVER ISLAND, TAKE THE NYC FERRY SOUNDVIEW FERRY FOR A VIEW OF OUR ISLAND HISTORY.
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
Sources
UNTAPPED NEW YORK MICHELLE YOUNG
Michelle is the founder of Untapped New York. She is the author of Secret Brooklyn: An Unusual Guide,New York: Hidden Bars & Restaurants, and Broadway. She is a graduate of Harvard College in the History of Art and Architecture and holds a master’s degree in urban planning from Columbia University Graduate School of Architecture, Planning and Preservation, where she is an Adjunct Professor of Architecture. Official Website
THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
With pieces dating back to the early 20th century, the city’s public schools are home to almost 2,000 works encompassingrealistic murals depicting the city’s history, giant pieces on exterior walls, playground installations that teach children about sound, fanciful fences and wall installations with nooks and crannies for students to explore. Faith Ringgold, Keith Haring, Romare Bearden and Carrie Mae Weems are among the many prominent artists represented.
Adi TalwarArt Spiegelman’s 17 panel hand-painted stained glass installation titled, “It Was Today, Only Yesterday… (A Window of Time)” at the High School of Art and Design in Manhattan. The cartoony figure of an artist at work watches over the activity below. Inspiration, perspiration and craft nurture his brain, but a grizzled figure representing self doubt will not go away.
The colorful glass installation could grace a museum, performance venue or gallery. Instead it’s in a New York City public high school, looking out on the cafeteria at the High School for Art and Design in midtown Manhattan. Created by school alumnus and celebrated cartoonist Art Spiegelman, “It Was Today Only Yesterday…” features scenes of an artist at work, along with panels celebrating the school’s past, present and future graduates—and a dash of autobiography.
“It represents all our futures here. It gives us inspiration when we see it,” said senior Eva Bell.
Spiegelman’s 2012 installation is among hundreds of artworks in a little known collection: the School Construction Authority’s (SCA) Public Art for Public Schools (PAPS). With pieces dating back to the early 20th century, it includes almost 2,000 works in all five boroughs and encompasses realistic murals depicting the city’s history, giant pieces on exterior walls, playground installations that teach children about sound, fanciful fences and wall installations with nooks and crannies for students to explore. Faith Ringgold, Keith Haring, Romare Bearden and Carrie Mae Weems are among the many prominent artists represented.
Since 1982, under the Department of Cultural Affairs Percent for Art program, 1 percent of the budget for “eligible city-funded construction projects” in New York City, including new schools or school additions, has been set aside for public artworks. In 1989, the city established Public Arts for Public Schools within the School Construction Authority to commission and install the art outside school buildings and in lobbies, hallways and classrooms.
Having art “shows that schools are really important and important as community centers,” said Michele Cohen, the founding director of Public Arts for Public Schools. “It communicates that this is a special place and you [students] are important.”
“Children who may never have an opportunity to be in a museum or see a professional artwork, our aim is to provide that for them in their daily lives,” says Tania Duvergne, the current director. “It’s an educational opportunity that is different from books and exams. … It bridges divides.
The right art in the right place
Creating public art for any space presents a series of challenges, and the requirements for works intended to last for a century in a public school in a diverse and ever-changing city are particularly daunting. For one, it must be meaningful today—and remain that way for decades.
“You have to think about what this artwork is going to look like 30, 50 or 100 years from now in terms of its content and materials. We want each student to feel it belongs to them and they’re referenced in that artwork,” said Kendal Henry, assistant commissioner of public art at the Department of Cultural Affairs.
“A lot of the work is connected back to the community and to the site,” said Jennifer McGregor, the first director of Percent for Art. At the same time, it can’t be too specific because the art will be there for 100 years more or less—and in that time communities will change.
It should “fit into the architecture of the building so it looks like it belongs there, not posted on the wall,” said Cohen. And it has to be durable. “Any time you put art in public spaces you have to maintain it and schools are a challenging environment,” said Cohen. “You want to put things where they’re somewhat out of reach.”
Although students can walk right up to Spiegelman’s work and even look through it, it meets many of the other criteria.
The artist said he wanted to “offer something that would be fun but also the more you stay with it the more it unpacks.” After months, or even years at the school, a student could likely still find something new in the 17 panels. They can look through “eyes” in the installation to see their friends below, pick out depictions of famous alumni, such as Calvin Klein and Harry Fierstein, look for Spiegelman’s autobiographical reference or chuckle at the visions of the graduates of the future.
Above: works by Spiegelman and Abraham Joel Tobias at the High School for Art and Design in midtown Manhattan (Photos by Adi Talwar)
Spiegelman chose hand-painted etched glass, partly because he wanted students to be able to read the work as they would a comic: “Stained glass windows were comics before there was newsprint.” And he wanted it to go above the cafeteria because “it was the social nexus of the school” when he attended, “and I think still is.”
Overall, he said, the work shows “my experience at the school forwarded to now. They’re lucky to be there.” Even though many students do not know Spiegelman created the installation, they said they get his message. “It is very encouraging. It gives us inspiration when we see it,” senior Anneliese Wang said.
Spiegelman said as far as he can tell his installation “seems to be integrated into the heart of the school.”
That is one of the city’s criteria as well. Often—though not in the case of Art and Design—the artwork is “the first thing people see. The art becomes the face of the school,” Henry said.
There is no shortage of artists in New York. Working on art for a public school, McGregor, lets them try something new and may serve as an entree for doing other public art pieces. “One of the things that excited artists about being in a school building is that we’ve all been students,” she said.
The SCA maintains a registry of artists interested in doing school projects. At the very beginning of a school’s planning and construction, a committee selects 30 or 40 artists from that registry who might be a good fit with that particular school.
“PAPS is on board at the very, very beginning,” Duvergne said. The architect, engineer and artists all must work together to ensure, for example, that the art is appropriate to the size and shape for the space and that no structural elements, even electrical outlets, will get in the way. The process can take five years from start to finish.
Eventually the committee—with representatives from SCA, the Department of Cultural Affairs and the Department of Education, as well as two people from the art world, including one of whom has gone through this process before—selects three or four artists, who are then invited to submit a proposal.
The school community “has a huge role in our process and what the feel of the school needs to be and how that’s interpreted through the art,” said Henry. “The school is super involved and we accommodate them as much as we can without sacrificing the integrity of the art.”
Any project selected, Duvergne said, “needs to be inclusive of all communities.”
“It should make every child feel that they’re a part of it, now and in 50, 100 years,” she added.
The process seems to have avoided controversy—for the most part. In the 1960s, students at what was then Evander Childs High School in The Bronx objected to the depiction of Black people in James Michael Newell’s 1938 murals “The Evolution of Western Civilization” and some of the mural was vandalized. The work was allowed to remain in the campus library but is now accompanied by a student mural in the hallway, and material that puts Newell’s work in context.
There can be other glitches. A second installation at Art and Design High School—a stainless steel sculpture by Lawrence Weiner embedded in the floor—is often covered with mats, students said. The piece gets slick in the rain and the school worries about people slipping.
One artwork, many perspectives
Unlike a gallery or museum people may visit once or twice, students are in their school several hours every day for as many as nine years. In preparing their proposals, artists must consider that, Henry said, and create work that “can be experienced at many different levels, literally and figuratively.
Above: Penelope Umbrico’s “Cabinet 1526-2013” at PS/IS 48 on Staten Island (Photos by Adi Talwar)
Even after nine years at the PS/IS 48 on Staten Island, few children will have absorbed all of Penelope Umbrico’s “Cabinet 1526-2013.” Spanning a long hallway, the work includes 6,000 images of plants, animals and astronomical bodies created between 1526 and the early 20th century, held together by a metal lattice that Umbrico said, “acts like a window box for each image.”
“I wanted to give them a visual encyclopedia of the natural world before the web,” she said.
Because the installation is almost the full height of the hall with pictures at every level, children will see it differently from year to year as their own eye-level changes. “As you grow up, you will be experiencing new imagery just by the fact that you’re growing,” said Henry.
The sheer volume of the images plays a key role too. “I wanted it to be a more interactive piece with the students, something they could not only look at but actually use,” Umbrico said. “If I was them there would be my favorite image and I would look at it every time I walked by.”
For at least some that seems to be the case. Students bounce up against “Cabinet,” with some looking at it, some pointing out details to their friends and some ignoring it.
Four glass boxes next to “Cabinet” pay homage to the dioramas at the American Museum of Natural History. Umbrico worked with kindergarteners in the school’s first class to create scenes in those boxes using toy animals and other knick knacks. In one, lions cavort on a rock while a big china bunny looks on.
“When they came out and put their pieces in, it was like Christmas,” Duvergne said.
This month those kindergartners are graduating from PS/IS 48, but their dioramas will live on.
“Cabinet” is not the only artwork that invites student involvement. Under the Sites for Students program, some commissions include a workshop run by the artist with students. And other artworks provide other ways for students to interact: Mnemonics by Kristin Jones and Andrew Ginzel at Stuyvesant High School includes 400 glass blocks scattered throughout the building. When it was installed, 88 of those boxes remained empty, waiting to be filled by future classes, so every year until 2088 the graduating class will leave its mark in a glass box.
Such projects are far removed from early art in New York City public schools. The first professional art on school walls, Cohen said, were seals, many of them quite elaborate, created for the individual school. Then in 1905 the Board of Education commissioned two murals by Charles Turner entitled “The Opening of the Erie Canal,” for a new high school on Manhattan’s West Side named for DeWitt Clinton, whose signature achievement was the building of the canal. (When Clinton moved to the Bronx in 1929, the murals did too.) Murals followed at other schools, notably Washington Irving High School near Union Square.
The New Deal’s Works Progress Administration and Works Projects Administration in the 1930s and ’40s offered a major boost to school construction in the city—and to art in schools. Murals still dominated but, Cohen writes in her 2009 book Public Art and Public Schools, the works addressed broader themes. In a move that resonates today, they tried to capture the diversity of the city, Cohen said, with Seymour Fogel “giving equal weight to the musical traditions of Europe and Africa” in his murals at Abraham Lincoln High School in Coney Island.
Art continued to be part of public schools in the 1950s as the city launched an ambitious construction plan. In a break with the past, many—such as Hans Hofman’s 64-foot mosaic mural outside the High School of Graphic Communication Arts on Manhattan’s West Side—were strikingly abstract, much to the dismay of some.
The social movements of the 1960s were reflected in perhaps the city’s most ambitious art in schools project: The construction of Boys and Girls High School in Bedford-Stuyvesant in the 1970s. Up until then, only one Black artist—Charles Alston—had received a commission for a public school mural in New York City.
With a design calling for work by nine African-American artists, Boys and Girls marked a new era. One of the artists, Brooklynite Ernest Crichlow, was the consultant and lead artist. He created a 25-panel mural in acrylics on masonite outside the school. Other works included Ed Wilson’s “Middle Passage,” a series of bronze relief on curved concrete panels depicting the horrors of the voyages that brought enslaved people to the United States.
Above: Works on display at Boys and Girls High School in Brooklyn. From left to right: Eldzier Cortor’s “Dance, Music, Art”; An untitled mural by Ernest Crichlow; Acrylic panels by Vincent Smith; Ed Wilson’s “Middle Passage” (Photos courtesy of the NYC School Construction Authority)
Despite such projects, the push for public art was scatter-shot until the establishment of Percent for Art, with strong support from Mayor Ed Koch, in 1982. The Board of Education, initially somewhat slow to come on board, became more involved, particularly after the creation of Donna Dennis’ “Dreaming of Far Away Places: The Ships Come to Washington Market” outside PS 234 in Tribeca in 1988. “It was really revolutionary because they were turning over the design of the fence to an artist and you can’t have a school without a fence,” McGregor said.
This is the sixth city administration since the installation of that fence. Duvergne and Henry both said the program will go on. The new administration “will continue to stress that artwork needs to be inclusive of all communities,” Duvergne said. “We have to find ways to make people feel included.”
On a June morning, workers pushed trollies with boxes of ceramic tile into what will be the lobby at PS 320, a nearly completed building a block from the Sheridan Expressway in the West Farms section of The Bronx. Inside, as tile setter Mariusz Czartoryjski positioned about 1,200 pigmented tiles, a mural took shape on two adjoining walls.
An orangey river slices through the lower left corner. One section depicts a boat bobbing on water. Nearby, one sees a chest with an Islamic geometric design and a staircase. The work, “The Bronx Through Time” by Natalia Nakazawa, combines a cityscape incorporating designs from textiles with depictions of the nearby Bronx River. Plain white tiles sprinkled around will be replaced by mosaics of monarch butterflies made with glass pieces that will look “like little gems that pop out,” Duvergne said. The butterflies were selected, she added, partly because “they move from country to country.”
For Duvergne, one real test of the project is how children react to it. “What is success for me is to see a child come into a school for the first time.” The child is feeling stressed and apprehensive but then she sees the art, Devergne said, and declares, “This is it. I want to go here.”
In September, when students walk into PS 320 for the first time, Nakazawa’s work will be put to that test.
Above: “The Bronx Through Time” a tile mosaic by Natalia Nakazawa being installed at the new PS 320 in The Bronx. (Photos by Adi Talwar)
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
Contemporary New Yorkers don’t often hear the term “needle trades” anymore. But in the vernacular of the early 20th century, it referred to any work related to the creation of clothing—like sewing, pattern making, cloth cutting, and dressmaking.
Much of this work in the decades before World War II was done by immigrants and first generation New Yorkers in Manhattan’s Garment District, the stretch of showrooms, wholesale shops, and factories inside the towering new loft buildings built between Broadway and Ninth Avenue and 34th to 42nd Streets.
Before moving to this chunk of Midtown, the needle trades were centered in sweatshops on the Lower East Side and Greenwich Village, and the work was also done piecemeal at home with little regulation or protection. A somewhat regulated Garment District was considered an improvement in progressive Gotham.
To train and supply prewar New York’s army of garment manufacturers, the city—with the help of the WPA—built an Art Deco-style vocational high school called Central High School of Needle Trades (top photo). Opened in 1940 on West 24th Street between 7th and 8th Avenues, it was developed in conjunction with garment industry reps.
“This building has sixty-five shops and special rooms, ten regular classrooms and six laboratories in which will be taught all branches of tailoring, costume design, millinery design, dressmaking, shoe manufacturing, fur processing and allied subjects,” the New York Times wrote when the school opened, per The Living New Deal.
Since 1956, the school has been known as the High School of Fashion Industries. With the decline of manufacturing in what’s still called the Garment District, there’s much more of a focus on the business of fashion, per the school website.
Even so, students continue to attend class in the original Art Deco Needle Trades building. Outside the entrance are four proud mosaics illustrating different aspects of the needle trades—from sewing to measuring to threading a needle.
The work may seem primitive amid our digital age, but the mosaics are a reminder of all that used to be made in New York primarily by human hands.
A Reform Party political cartoon which was part of the 1871 Samuel J. Tilden campaign against Tammany Hall and William Magear“Boss” Tweed that ultimately led to Tweed’s 1874 conviction and imprisonment for corruption, in the Blackwell Island Prison. Initially he was sentenced to a term of 12 year but his sentence was subsequently reduced and he was freed after one year. After his release, he was immediately re-arrested for and convicted of embezzlement. During this second incarceration at the Ludlow Jail—while on a supervised visit to the home of a family member—Tweed escaped. He fled to Cuba and then sailed to Spain, where authorities arrested him as he disembarked and returned him to New York City. Tweed spent his final years in Ludlow jail where he died of Severe Pneumonia in 1878. Tweed is buried in Brooklyn’s Green Wood Cemetery. Ed Litcher
Andy Sparberg got it too!
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Deborah Dorff All image are copyrighted (c)
n 1926, Eleanor Roosevelt convened with three of her closest friends, Caroline O’Day, Marion Dickerman, and Nancy Cook, to discuss the probability of a bold new venture. The four women, all active in New York’s Democratic Party, agreed to open a workshop that specialized in the production of Colonial Revival furniture.
Their business would be conducted on the Roosevelts’ Val-Kill property in Hyde Park, Dutchess County, NY and appropriately named “Val-Kill Industries.” Two years prior, Franklin D. Roosevelt built a quaint Dutch Colonial cottage on the property for Eleanor, Marion, and Nancy. This came to be called the “Stone Cottage,” and a more industrial building was constructed for the workshop.
Although Nancy had a passion for producing furniture, it was Eleanor Roosevelt who noted the decline in the American Arts and Crafts movement and wanted Val-Kill Industries to reignite an interest in America’s architectural traditions. However, she and her husband had a more critical reason for starting a local workshop: to put unemployed farmers back to work.
After the end of the First World War American farmers found themselves struggling to survive due to surpluses and depreciating prices. As debts rose and foreclosures became rampant, the nation entered an agricultural depression that persisted throughout the 1920s. With agriculture being so vital to Dutchess County’s economy, both Roosevelts watched in alarm as farmers relocated to cities and abandoned their land. Discussing the reasoning behind Val-Kill Industries, Eleanor wrote, “If it were possible to build up in a rural community a small industry which would employ and teach a trade to the men and younger boys…I felt that it would keep many of the more ambitious members in the district.”
Italian craftsman Frank Landolfa was hired in the winter of 1926 to construct the initial pieces. Val-Kill Industries’ first customer was none other than Franklin DD. Roosevelt, who was in the process of furnishing his cottage in Warm Springs, Georgia. His mother, Sara, furnished the James Roosevelt Memorial Library in Hyde Park with furniture from the shop. Henry Morgenthau, Jr., a Hudson Valley neighbor who would serve as Secretary of the Treasury in the Roosevelt Administration, also placed a substantial order.
In the summer of 1927, the first exhibition took place at the Roosevelts’ New York townhouse. Frank Landolfa produced butterfly drop-leaf tables, mirrors, a replica of a masterful walnut table on display in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and elegant Cromwellian-style chairs. The debut generated more sales than originally estimated, resulting in the hiring of additional craftsmen to meet the demand, most notably a Norwegian immigrant named Otto Berge. Even with additional hands, the workers remained overwhelmed. During that first year, Eleanor remembered how hard it was “to instill into the minds of the workmen that what was expected of them was craftsmanship, not speed.”
One of the reasons behind Val-Kill Industries producing more simple, traditional furniture was to keep costs as low as possible. Had they created ornate pieces in the Queen Anne style, expenses would have risen dramatically. One craftsman was responsible for producing one piece of furniture, and that included selecting the wood, cutting it, and assembling the item. All the lumber was brought in from Ichabod T. Williams & Sons in New York City.
Nancy Cook oversaw the employees’ production, even requesting that they detail in their time-sheets how long it took to complete one piece. She developed a precise system for the finishing process that entailed at least fifteen steps, ending with the imprint of the Val-Kill Industries stamp. For furniture made especially for the Roosevelts’ friends and family, a stamp of Eleanor Roosevelt’s signature was placed. Many of the local boys hired were placed in the finishing room.
With the nation in grips of the Great Depression, the shop prepared for a decline, but 1930 turned out to be a peak year. As interest in the American Colonial Revival Movement grew, Val-Kill Industries expanded its factory and hired additional cabinetmakers and workmen. Eleanor was always a steadfast customer, and when the Roosevelts moved into the White House in 1933, several furniture pieces sent from New York to Washington, D.C. were made at Val-Kill Industries. As first lady, Eleanor took advantage of the numerous ways presented to her to market the shop, even writing articles for publications like House & Garden Magazine.
Slowly, the Depression took its toll and sales declined. There had been discussion about opening a forge, but the plan was delayed because of the economy. Finally, in 1934, Arnold Berge, Otto’s brother, was recruited to run the new Val-Kill Forge. In the spring of 1935, another exhibition was held at the Roosevelts’ New York City residence, this time displaying their first pieces of pewter. The Val-Kill Forge went on to produce items such as mugs, bowls, pitchers, candlesticks, plates, and lamps.
Yet by the end of that same year, it was apparent that Val-Kill Industries was sinking. As the number of orders dwindled, workers were let go. After eight years as the head craftsman, Frank Landolfa left the workshop for a more secure job. Otto Berge agreed to stay until all remaining orders were complete. Val-Kill Industries reached its final days in 1938. Eleanor transformed the workshop into her own private cottage, and it remained her main home until she died in 1962. Eventually, Marion Dickerman and Nancy Cook vacated the Stone Cottage, and the Roosevelts’ youngest child, John, moved in with his family.
After Val-Kill Industries officially closed, Otto Berge obtained the equipment and the right to use the name. His brother, Arnold, ran the Val-Kill Forge in his home until the United States entered World War II. Eleanor continued to be a devoted customer, often ordering pewter pieces from Arnold to gift to her friends. In her “My Day” column dated July 3, 1940, she wrote of Otto making her an oak lectern “for me to send to an Indian church out West.”
Today, a Georgia-based company owns the Val-Kill Industries trademark and still produces furniture of the same style. Visitors touring the Roosevelt homes in Hyde Park and Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Little White House in Georgia can see pieces manufactured at Val-Kill Industries on display.
Although Val-Kill Industries was not a great commercial success, its influence should not be overlooked. During a period when New York farmers were struggling to provide for their families, Val-Kill Industries offered them an opportunity to apply their skills and generate income.
Several New Deal initiatives, especially the Works Progress Administration (WPA), enacted programs that focused on the revival of the American Arts and Crafts movement. At the same time, these programs boosted the morale of a nation in despair, just as Val-Kill Industries did on a local level.
Franklin D. Roosevelt famously said, “It is common sense to take a method and try it: If it fails, admit it frankly and try another. But above all, try something.” Val-Kill Industries was a testament to the Roosevelts’ core belief that the only way to improve the adverse economic situation was through action.
EAST WNG OF NATIONAL GALLERY, WASHINGTON, DC SUMIT KAUR, GLORIA HERMAN, ED LITCHER, HARA REISER, AND NINA LUBLIN GOT IT RIGHT
Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Deborah Dorff All image are copyrighted (c)
SOURCES
Walter Barrett, The Old Merchants of New York City, Second Series 1883
NEW YORK ALMANACK
GRANTS
CITY COUNCIL REPRESENTATIVE JULIE MENIN DISCRETIONARY FUNDING THRU DYCD, ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS
“Sirshasana” (1998) by Donald Lipski at Grand Central Terminal. Photo: Rob Wilson
About the artist
In “Sirshasana,” a sculptural chandelier in the shape of a golden-rooted olive tree suspended above the street-level entrance to the Grand Central Market, Donald Lipski drew upon Hindu and Greek lore. “To the ancient Greeks the olive tree symbolized freedom and purity,” he explains. “And the name Sirshasana refers to a yoga headstand posture — the inverted tree….” With branches that span 25 feet and 5,000 brilliant crystal pendants, the tree dominates the area, bringing the feel of an outdoor market. The space was designed so that morning sun bathes the tree and floods the market with light. The form has writhing, enticing, and unexpected elements, with the base of the tree finished in gold and crystals dangling in place of olives, in addition to alluding to the decorative chandeliers in Grand Central, the tree is a comment on the allure of the exotic and tempting wares sold in the marketplace.
“Hudson River Explorers” (2012) by Holly Sears at Tarrytown. Photo: Michael Hnatov
About the project
Inspired by this great river’s majesty and informed by the region’s rich history of discovery, exploration, and travel, Holly Sears’s “Hudson River Explorers” features 11 laminated glass panels fabricated by Tom Patti Design.
With allusions to the romanticism of the Hudson River School of painting, Sears’s exquisitely rendered views of six above-water and five underwater riverscapes are populated by groups of creatures. The scenes are fantastic, magically real, yet firmly grounded in naturalism. From east to west, the panels in each overpass create the experience of one day, from dawn to dusk, with light, color, and subject. The masterfully painted plants and animals in this watery, dreamy realm include an unexpected combination of native and exotic species: a bobcat and house cat, polar bears and black bears, white-tailed deer, ducks, shad, seahorse and sturgeon, hawks and owls, herons and swallows, elephants, and horses. Sears places a particular emphasis on those animals that are threatened or endangered, enjoining us to consider and protect the natural world that surrounds us.
The trip down the length of the corridor is one of discovery, and an analogy to the explorers’ experience depicted in the scenes. The viewer will witness the passage of time through the transition of light and color in the sky and river, and the astonishing variety of plants and animals that inhabit each scene offers intrigue and imaginative contemplation.
“Untitled with Sky” (2010) by Liliana Porter and Ana Tiscornia at MNR Scarborough Station. Photo: Rob Wilson
About the Project
“Untitled with Sky” explores the boundaries between illusion – six faceted glass windows and twelve sculptural seats clad in mosaic that depict a beautiful sky as it changes from morning to evening – and “truth,” – the actual sky as it appears on either side of the art glass. Created in swirling, curved shapes in a variety of blues, purples, and rose, the work brings color and brightness to the platform where commuters wait for their morning train. The sculptural seats echo the contours and color of the windows and provide an amenity for Metro-North customer
“North, South and Home” (2009) by Joseph Cavalieri at MNR Philipse Manor Station. Photo: Veronica Sharon
About the Project
Joseph Cavalieri’s “North, South and Home” creates a colorful glow in the overpass of Metro-North Railroad’s Philipse Manor Station on the Hudson Line.
The artwork, with a decorative border reminiscent of Dutch tile design (with an abstract train running over the symbolic hills of Westchester along the bottom) features tree branches and stylized geraniums reaching across six faceted-glass panels to represent travel and a connected community. At the base of the tree trunk is an outlined shape of nearby Philipsburg Manor, built in 1693 by Frederick Philipse.
Running through the branches is a haiku that reads: “A gentle Hudson – Whistle begins my journey – North and south and home.”
Cavalieri creatively combined blue branches with a gradient orange-yellow background to create colorful contrasts that project a beautiful glow that will be visible from a distance and at night.
“Floating Auriculas” (2007) by Nancy Blum at NYCT MNR Dobbs Ferry Station. Photo: MTA Arts & Design
About the ProjectInspired by an heirloom plant that it is difficult to cultivate, “Floating Auriculas” by artist Nancy Blum provides a bold splash of color along the retaining wall at the Dobbs Ferry Station, enhancing the station¡¦s natural beauty with a palette of colors derived from the red brick of the old station building. The work uses the repeating quality of the flowers to provide viewers with an energetic imprint they can hold in their imagination as they travel. Fabricated by Miotto Mosaics in glass and marble tiles, the mural consists of seven flower heads, each about eight feet in diameter.
“A Field of Wild Flowers” (1997) by Roberto Juarez at Grand Central Terminal. Photo: Rob Wilson
About the project
Roberto Juarez creates a place of refreshment and repose with his lush garden landscape, designed to appear as though it were seen through the windows of a slow-moving train. The work, located at the waiting area in the Station Master’s Office, is one of the more fragile pieces in the system, executed in a multi-media collage that he describes as “consisting of layers of gesso, under-painting, urethane, and varnish. I also utilize natural materials — rice paper and a dusting of peat moss — to give my work added texture, strength, and beauty.”
“A Field of Wild Flowers” was created to be compatible with the architecture of Grand Central Terminal, and it repeats some of its historic interior details such as the representation of fruit, acorns, and garlands. It also provides a contemporary work of art that stands on its own, bringing a touch of serenity to the surrounding whirl of activity.
LIGHTHOUSE PARK FLOODED AFTER HURRICANE SANDY 10 YEARS AGO NEXT WEEK
NINA LUBLIN, HARA REISER, ED LITCHER, AND GLORIA HERMAN ALL GOT IT RIGHT
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
TRANSIT ART AND DESIGN METRO NORTH RAILROAD MTA
THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
Looking to experience the culinary side of Manhattan’s history? Look no further than these classic restaurants cherished by local New Yorkers, all of which were founded before the turn of the 20th century. From the first fine dining restaurant to a famous Jewish deli, these spots offer delicious menus served with a journey into the past. So take a tour of the dishes that made the city’s food scene internationally known, and treat yourself to the delectable dishes of Manhattan’s oldest restaurants:
Fraunces Tavern, dating back to 1762, is widely considered to be the oldest restaurant in the city. There is some debate as to the actual age of the building itself. While the brick house in the Financial District that would become home to the restaurant dates back to sometime between 1719 and 1722, it has been rebuilt and renovated countless times, causing many to wonder whether it can claim to be as old and authentic as it does.
Nonetheless, what is known is that before Samuel Fraunces opened it for tavern service as the “Sign of Queen Charlotte,” it was used as a dance school and trading firm. Even General John Lamb sending a cannonball through the tavern’s wall during a scuffle with the British in 1775 did not deter the popular establishment’s business. The year after, the British captured the restaurant and forced the staff to feed their soldiers. When they were finally driven out on November 25th of 1783, General George Clinton held an honorary banquet there for George Washington, whose tooth is now on display in the upstairs museum. Today, its incredible story is documented in the museum that stands just above the restaurant. Next to the numerous landmarks of American history that occurred inside, the fact that the restaurant also serves a great brunch and specializes in fine beer and whiskey is just a bonus.
Tucked away on the far west side of Soho, this cozy beer and burger joint remained nameless until the ’70s, when the owners covered the round parts of the “B” in a lighted “Bar” sign outside, and the catchy name appeared. The building housing the Ear Inn dates back to 1770 when it was constructed in honor of James Brown, an African soldier who resisted the British by George Washington’s side and supposedly makes an appearance in the famous painting of Washington crossing the Delaware River. From there, the Inn made good money servicing sailors a refreshing drink while stopping on their way down the Hudson River (which was only a mere five feet from the building originally). Timber found in its attic sparked rumors that this bar was built using leftover lumber from the Great Fire of 1776.
Food and restaurant service began in the early 20th century. During Prohibition, the bar was converted into a speakeasy and reopened publicly upon the passage of the 21st amendment. With nautical-themed decor and blooming flowerpots hanging outside, the Ear Inn remains a popular spot to grab a drink or a bite to eat. They have also adopted a “farm to table” policy, so even bar snacks are prepared with fresh, healthy ingredients.
Delmonico’s claims to be the first fine dining restaurant in the country. It was opened by the Delmonico brothers in 1837 and gained a reputation as an elite establishment offering private dining rooms and the largest wine cellar in the city to those who could afford it. Delmonico’s credits Charles Ranhofer, its executive chef during the Civil War era, with creating such American classics as baked Alaska, lobster Newburg, chicken a la Keene, and eggs benedict. This last claim has incurred some controversy regarding who was responsible for the birth of the classic brunch dish. The idea, originally meant to cure a hangover, is attributed to both Ranhofer and the Waldorf Astoria chef Oscar Tschirky.
The Delmonico steak, originally meaning whatever the cut of the evening was in the restaurant, is now typically a boneless rib-eye, cut thick and served without brushing, a purist mentality. It is known as a “black and red” steak, or charred on the outside but medium rare on the inside, a difficult combo for chefs to pull off.
While Pete’s may not be the absolutely oldest restaurant on this list, it is, for good reason, the oldest continually operating restaurant in New York. The atmosphere is nostalgia at its core, with black and white snapshots of the tavern through the years lining the walls. Besides serving delicious “saloon style” eats, its claim to fame is that O. Henry was once a regular.
Pete’s was a favorite spot of the short story writer between 1903 and 1907 when he lived nearby, and one table on the dining floor is still marked as the place where he wrote his masterpiece of misbegotten generosity The Gift of the Magi. Perhaps hoping to tap into O. Henry’s energy, Ludwig Bemelmans also wrote the well-loved children’s book Madelinewhile sitting in Pete’s. If you’re not inspired by the literary history, you will be by the classic dishes and lengthy cocktail list.
Old Homestead is not only one of New York’s oldest, but also the longest continuously operating steakhouse in the United States. Like many other current steakhouses in New York, this one was born in 1868, around the same time as the concept of a “chophouse” gained popularity, It was originally known as the Tidewater Trading Post, because the Hudson River of the time ran next to it, straight through the center of what is now Chelsea. The restaurant was purchased by Harry Sherry, who got his start working in the back as a dishwasher, and has been run by the same Sherry family for over 70 years.
Besides its impressive legacy, the Old Homestead’s other claim to fame is that it’s responsible for the first importation of Wagyu, or Kobe beef to the U.S. in the 1990s. Kobe, a region of Japan native to the unique Wagyu cows, produces some of the most high-priced and delicious steaks in the world, widely revered by food critics as the absolute best. To put it in perspective, a Wagyu burger from the Old Homestead will cost you $47. If you’re looking for the highest of the high quality and you don’t mind a little splurge, the Old Homestead has had your back for over 150 years.
In 1868, Patrick Henry Carley opened the Landmark Tavern, an Irish waterfront saloon along the shores of the Hudson River. Carley and his wife designed their new saloon to serve as a home for their children on the second and third floors. However, during Prohibition, they were forced to turn the third floor into a speakeasy. The bar was a regular hangout for a Hell’s Kitchen gang called the Westies. The tavern is also supposedly haunted — the ghosts of George Raft, a Confederate soldier, and an Irish immigrant girl have been seen over the years.
The Landmark Tavern still retains its classic old New York charm. Located on 11th Avenue and West 46th Street in Hell’s Kitchen, the tavern still serves up classics like shepherds pie, bangers and mash, and corned beef and cabbage, but has more recently introduced items like duck confit, lobster ravioli, and Asian vegetable spring rolls.
As spelled out clearly on its website, the Whitehorse Tavern claims the title of the second oldest pub in New York, at 139 years old. It got its start in the mid-19th century, catering to Irish communities in the Village. But it didn’t gain a real name for itself until the 1930s, when the Whitehorse was swept up in the counter-culture movement, and became a hub of leftist politics, writer’s circles, and cutting-edge music. Over the years, its lineup of regulars has included musicians Bob Dylan and Mary Travers of Peter, Paul, and Mary.
As the favorite of writers like Jack Kerouac, James Baldwin, Norman Mailer, William Styron, Allen Ginsburg, and more, the Whitehorse, then known as “the Horse,” has a special place in the Village’s literary tradition. Graffiti in the bathroom reading “GO HOME JACK” is testimony to the many times Jack Kerouac was kicked out for drunken behavior. A portrait also hangs over the favorite seat of Dylan Thomas, who may have spent his last hours at the bar in 1953. The iconic culture paper, The Village Voice, also traces its roots back to conversations at the bar of the Whitehorse. In 1969, it was awarded a historic landmark designation, which has saved it from alteration several times. Today, its virtue still lies in adherence to its history, with a nostalgically-styled bar and mementos of the old days lining the walls.
Some restaurants may be older than this homey burger bar, but few have as impressive a lineup of famous diners as P.J. Clarke’s. Its website quotes Nat King Cole, who called its burger “the Cadillac of burgers,” and says that “Buddy Holly proposed to his wife here five hours after they met.”
The pub got its start in 1884 serving beer to Irish immigrants and became even more popular during Prohibition when it illegally brewed and imported gin and scotch. From then on, P.J.’s wormed its way into the hearts of multiple stars, like Frank Sinatra, Jackie O, Peter O’Toole, Elizabeth Taylor, and Johnny Mercer. (The bar is almost certainly the inspiration for the boozy ballad “One for My Baby,” which Mercer wrote on the back of a napkin in the restaurant.) Author Charles Jackson also penned The Lost Weekend while dining here, and the motion picture on which it was based was filmed on a Hollywood set modeled after P.J. Clarke’s. It was also a filming location for Mad Men and Annie Hall. When the property was finally sold by the Lavezzos in 1967, a 99-year leaseback was included. So, go try the burger loved around Hollywood, lest you regret it come 2066 when the lease expires
The walls of Keen’s Steakhouse are covered in old playbills and theater memorabilia. That’s because when this high-end steakhouse and oyster establishment opened in 1885 under the managerial leadership of its namesake, Albert Keen, it was mainly used by actors and performers from next door Garrick Theatre as a place to freshen up between acts. The actors starring in Abraham Lincoln’s last show were once among them, hence a wall of Lincoln memorabilia that includes the final show’s playbill on one wall of the restaurant.
The other unusual decor that will catch diners’ eyes are the long clay pipes that completely cover the ceiling of every room of the restaurant. During the turn of the century, Keen’s became a Pipe Club, or an inn in which travelers could check their pipes. Members could stop by Keen’s for a smoke, and then have their personal pipes kept behind the desk. Each pipe now hanging on the wall represents a member, including Teddy Roosevelt, Buffalo Bill, Babe Ruth, and Albert Einstein. Broken pipes signify a deceased member, as the stem of a pipe was broken when its designated owner passed away. Nowadays, Keen’s provides a gilded, old-world dining experience. Their mutton chops are especially renowned, and were praised by James Beard as putting “everyday chops momentarily in the pale.” Come for the flavor, stay to pick out the well-known names on the pipes that line the wall.
FROM: LAURA HUSSEY Artist Ilya Bolotowsky and his assistant painting a WPA mural at the Hall of Medical Sciences 1939 World’s Fair.
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
Sources
UNTAPPED NEW YORK
FROM THE ARCHIVES IS FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM NY CITY COUNCIL MEMEBR JULIE MENIN AND RIOC PUBLIC PURPOSES FUNDS.
A postcard reveals a portion of the Italian Garden and the breathtaking views.
Twenty-three year old Charles V. Paterno earned his medical degree from Cornell University in 1899. He would not use it for long. The son of real estate dealer John Paterno, he was born in Castelmezzano, Italy and immigrated with his family in the 1880s. Charles and his brother Joseph took over the real estate business when their father died. Although he would never practice medicine again, Charles retained the title Doctor for the rest of his professional life. At the turn of the century the Upper West Side was developing quickly and the Paterno brothers were leaders in erecting modern apartment houses for urban pioneering families. Their Paterno Construction Company gained a reputation for producing luxurious, architecturally conservative apartment buildings. Within a few years the brothers had amassed large personal fortunes. In 1905 Dr. Paterno purchased seven and a half acres in the Inwood section of Manhattan with breathtaking views of the Hudson River and the New Jersey Palisades on the opposite bank. He commissioned architect John C. Watson to design his new home—one that would be quite unlike any of the other turn-of-the-century mansions that were rising along Riverside Drive and upper Fifth Avenue. Taking advantage of the scenic setting 125 feet above the Hudson, Paterno envisioned a romantic Rhineland-like castle. According to The Sun years later, “It is said that he saw a place in the country of his forefathers that made a deep impression on him. It was in surroundings similar to the Fort Washington section. When he decided to build himself a home on the Drive he remembered this castle and had his home built accordingly.”
Castle Paterno perched above the Hudson like a romantic Rhineland relic.
And he got what he paid for. Costing $500,000, about $10 million by today’s standards, the four-story castle was ready for occupancy in 1909 (although still not completed). While Paterno could have gotten away with durable (and perhaps more expected) granite for his castle, he chose white marble. The mansion sat at approximately 185th Street on what was then called Boulevard Lafayette (an extension of Riverside Drive) and Northern Boulevard (later to be renamed Cabrini Boulevard). Building Age called it “a residence of unique construction.” The castle was accessed through an underground passage that ran under the front of the building. Fifteen steps lead from the Boulevard to a terrace with a fountain. Stairs on either side led to another landing where the tunnel opened into the side of the hill.
The New York Times depicted the unique entrance on June 7, 1908 (copyright expired)
Guests may have felt some trepidation as they followed the underground passage 75 feet, slowly ascending, to the basement of the mansion—rather like feudal knights stealing into a fortress.
The New York Times June 7, 1908 (copyright expired)
The New York Times described the first room in which the visitor would emerge within the subbasement of the house. “One finds a room probably without a counterpart in any New York home. This is not a dungeon into which may be thrown those who incur the displeasure of the owner, nor is it a secret compartment for the safekeeping of the family jewels.” It was a “mushroom vault” which Building Age explained was “for propagating the succulent fungi.” The Times said that here with “just the right conditions of temperature and moisture, [Dr. Paterno] can have mushrooms sprouting every day in time for dinner.” Here, too, was the wine cellar. The basement proper held the Turkish bath with dressing room, two hot rooms of different temperatures, massage rooms and a swimming pool fed by pumps from the Hudson River below. There were also a grill room and “lounging room” at this level. Finally, at 80 feet above the street level, was the main reception hall, 20 feet square. Opening off the hall were the parlor, library, music room and Paterno’s den. Although the architecture was inarguably medieval, the interior decoration was eclectic. Each room of the house reflected a different period or style. The parlor was furnished in Louis XV style; the dining room was “Colonial;” and the library was outfitted in an Asian motif. Drawing on Andrew Carnegie’s practice of being awakened by organ music, Paterno had a clever and unique antique clock installed in the entrance hall that automatically operated the $7000 organ on the second floor gallery at certain times of the day. The large clock also operated the set of chimes in the castle tower, announcing the hour and half hour. The bedrooms were located on the second floor; the master bedroom measuring 18 by 20 feet. A nursery and sewing room were also on this level. While the house was still under construction, Building Age noticed that “an unusual feature in connection with the sleeping rooms will be that none of them will be reached directly from the hall, but through a vestibule.” The entertainment areas were located on the third floor. Here were the immense banquet hall and ballroom covering about 50 square feet with ceilings 20 feet high. Balconies sprouted off the ballroom, affording guests nighttime views of the Hudson that, perhaps, made the climb to this level worthwhile. The large billiard room was also situated on the third floor. The roof over about one-half of the building was dedicated to a garden. “But it will be no ordinary roof garden,” promised Building Age. The outdoor space included an aviary, solarium and large conservatory where Mrs. Paterno’s friends enjoyed polite conversation over tea while taking in the view. A foot and a half of soil covered the roof to accommodate a natural garden. Below, an extensive Italian garden was laid out with colonnades, pergolas and fountains. Below it a service tunnel ran directly from Northern Boulevard to the kitchen and servants’ quarters, eliminating the possibility of deliverymen running into family members. By 1913 Paterno Castle was still not completed. On February 16 The Sun noted that “Along the Drive under the house there is a pile of marble that is waiting to be put in place.” But the newspaper was impressed by the remarkable mansion nonetheless. “A castle of medieval times could not offer a more formidable appearance. “ Paterno Castle took full advantage of the location in its outside spaces. “Along the 139 feet on [Northern Avenue] is a railing ten feet high of marble and iron. It is a massive affair and harmonizes with the architecture of the castle.” The house, said the article, “is built as far out on the cliff as it was possible to build it. This gives a lawn of nearly 200 feet between it and the iron and marble railing along Northern Avenue. Over the roadway at the entrance to the house is a marble porch with battlement on top, as in the feudal castle of old.”
The fence, called by The Sun “a railing…of marble and iron,” mirrored the crenelated towers.
Three years later the house was officially completed. The New York Tribune, on November 5, 1916, jibed “This might be the poet’s ‘castled crag of Drachenfels’ frowning o’er the wide and winding Rhine’ were it not the Hudson River bluffs at 185th Street, with the 35-room residence of Dr. Charles V. Paterno playing the part of the castle.”
A shady pergola wrapped along the edge of the cliff — NYPL Collection
The castle was superbly designed for entertaining and the Paternos took full advantage. On the afternoon of April 12, 1917 they hosted a reception for the Reverend Billy Sunday along with cooperative ministers and executive committee members of the Y.W.C.A. and Y.M.C.A. For years society page reports would tell of tea being served in the solarium and programs of organ music being enjoyed. The Paterno family was just finishing dinner on the evening of July 24, 1919 when a ruckus occurred. Anna Bailey, also known as Anna Creegan, was found climbing over the garden wall. When arrested, she had under her blouse Mrs. Paterno’s silver sugar bowl and two silver platters. Dr. Paterno told police that how the woman got into the house was a mystery. Despite the silver items being found on her person, the woman denied having taken them. The Evening World remarked on the defendant’s appearance at court. “Miss Baily, or Mrs. Creegan, was the object of considerable attention in the court room. Although she is a trifle shy of forty, her hair is bobbed. She wore a purple skirt, a blue waist and a red tie and carried a buff-colored sweater.” The newspaper apparently felt her sense of style was as offensive as her theft. Partly due to his own development, land along the Hudson at the far northern end of Manhattan increased in value. In 1935 Fort Tryon Park, a gift to the city from John D. Rockefeller, Jr., was completed and in 1938 The Cloisters Museum was opened. Dr. Charles Paterno smelled money. He told The New York Times in August, 1938, that “the many improvements in that part of the city…had led to a strong residential movement in that area with a definite demand for the finer type of garden type apartments.” And there was no more advantageous spot for “the finer type of garden type apartments” than the site of his castle. Charles Paterno announced plans “to demolish his fortress-like residence
A section of the cast iron fencing lays on its side as workmen begin demolition in 1938 — NYPL Collection
Paterno commissioned George Fred Pelham, Jr. to design the $6 million project to be called “Castle Village.” By the end of 1938 Paterno Castle was gone. But today relics of the medieval-style fortress remain. The white marble garage and servants’ quarters were converted to housing, and marble entrance columns remain as do sections of the Italian Gardens. The guesthouse, sitting at the northernmost edge of the former estate, survived. It sits precariously above the Hudson and retains a small garden. Remnants of what was undeniably one of the most picturesque and romantic structures in Manhattan still exist; but the bulk of Dr. Charles Paterno’s remarkable estate was a victim of his own financial interests.
THIS IS FROM ED LITCHER: Pan American’s first Clipper flight from the Marine Air Terminal at Laguardia Airport in New York City departed on March 31, 1940. The photo shows the terminal with a Boeing Model B-314 ‘Yankee Clipper’ at its dock. This terminal is the oldest active airport terminal from the first generation of passenger air travel? The Art Deco terminal is a New York City Landmark and thus safe from destruction, unlike other more ill-fated terminals at JFK Airport.
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
Sources
DAYTONIAN IN MANHATTAN WIKIMEDIA COMMONS
FROM THE ARCHIVES IS FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM NYCITY COUNCIL MEMEBR JULIE MENIN AND RIOC PUBLIC PURPOSES FUNDS.
The Gilded Age ushered in opulent mansions, ostentatious balls, and very conspicuous consumption. But this era synonymous with wealth also brought us the breadline—where impoverished New Yorkers stood in the shadows night after night, waiting their turn to obtain a free meal.
“Fleischmann’s Bread Line,” by Everett Shinn, about 1900
Breadlines (many of which distributed more than bread) proliferated by the turn of the century at Gotham’s missions and benevolent societies created to serve the poor. But the first breadline, where the term originates, started at a fashionable bakery on Broadway and 10th Street in 1876.
Louis Fleischmann, a prosperous Austrian immigrant, owned the Vienna Model Bakery next door to Grace Church on the edge of the Ladies Mile shopping district. One December night, Fleischmann saw a group of men huddled in front of a steam grate beside the store. He brought the men—or “hungry tramps,” as one newspaper described them—some unsold bread left in the bakery. They accepted it eagerly.
Fleischmann’s Vienna Model Bakery during the daytime, 1898
More men showed up the next night, forming a quiet line at the back door. Touched by their plight, Fleischmann decided that anyone who queued up by midnight would be given half a loaf of leftover bread, no questions asked. For the next four decades, Fleischmann distributed bread (as well as hot coffee) to sometimes hundreds of men per night on his “breadline,” as it became known.
City newspapers covered Fleischmann’s breadline heavily, some with sympathy and others with a hint of disdain. “Here are men whose lives are not running well—400 small worlds gone to shipwreck,” reported the New York Press in 1902. The New-York Tribune wrote in 1904, “The picturesque and pitiful line of men in the early hours of every morning has become one of the features of the city’s life.”
At the head of Fleischmann’s breadline, 1904, photographer unknown
While New Yorkers debated whether the breadline helped the hungry or instead contributed to “pauperism” and encouraged men to accept handouts, painters, illustrators, and photographers were drawn to Fleischmann’s, where they captured scenes of charity and misery.
Whether painted by social realists such as Everett Shinn and George Luks or shot by news photographers like George Bain, these images depict anonymous men in black hats and coats awaiting their half a loaf and cup of coffee. The humanity of the often faceless men is the focus; the argument as to whether such handouts were helpful or hurtful doesn’t factor in.
George Bain’s view of a snowy night on the breadline in 1908
The one curious breadline painting comes from George Luks. Like Everett Shinn, Luks was a member of the Ashcan School, and his work typically reflected a gritty early 20th century city.
In 1900, Luks painted children on a bakery breadline, even though there’s no documentation that young people ever came to Fleischmann’s or any other nighttime breadline. The kids in Luks’ painting have baskets to fill with stale bread, which they may be bringing home to hungry family members.
“Breadline,” by George Luks, 1900
Or perhaps putting kids on his breadline was Luks’ way of drawing attention to the thousands of homeless children who lived on the streets or in lodging houses, working in legitimate jobs or joining criminal gangs. Access to a breadline could have kept these “street arabs,” as they were dubbed, from going to bed hungry.
PLANS FOR ART EXHIBIT IN MOTORGATE ATRIUM.THAT TOOK PLACE IN LATE 1980’S
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
Sources EPHEMERAL NEW YORK
[Top image: Wikipedia; second image: MCNY 93.1.1.18243; third image: National Gallery of Art; fourth image: Alamy; fifth image: George Bain Collection/LOC]
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