I learned this morning that Ethel passed away. Ethel Grodzins Romm was a child of the depression and a true American character.
I met her when she lived in Island House in the 1980’s. I knew she was unique when I met her at the tram station loaded down with bags of Entenmenn’s cakes. She was a construction project manager at a 5th Avenue mansion. She had figured out that the workers had to walk to Lexington Avenue for refreshments. She installed a coffee maker and daily schlepped goodies for workers.
Ethel was a character, sometimes funny, serious and never forgetful.
She left the Island to live in Boston with her brother’s family and help run a radon detection business. Her brother Lee was a MIT PhD who had worked in research and development.
Ethel had three sons. Daniel passed away a few years ago whose interests were literature and science fiction. David, a rehabilitation physician who retired from the VA and at one time did an internship at Goldwater. Joe is a well known author and speaker on science, climate change and the future.
Judith Berdy
One of my most vivid memories of Ethel is that of her tooting around Roosevelt Island on her Segue. I’m not even sure they were “street legal,” but nothing stopped Ethel. I loved – not only that she had the chutzpah to get up and learn to ride the thing- but that she was one of the first people to adopt the new technology. I’m sure Ethel was well into her 80s at the time.
Ethel was one of a kind. Nothing ever stopped her and I loved her for it. Of course, she would tell you that, too! She WAS the original “Rosie the Riveter” but really, Ethel was an original in everything she did.
Her memory is a profound blessing. Her life was an inspiration and I know she made a powerful impact in countless areas during her life, for which we have all been enriched.
Rabbi Leana Moritt
Be still. Listen. Listening is the singing and life is the song. Pray for peace. Speak up. Do justice.
Rabbi Leana Moritt (she/היא) Temple Beth-El of Jersey City 2419 Kennedy Blvd, Jersey City, NJ 07304 201.333.4229 www.betheljc.org
We just learned early this morning about the passing of Ethel Romm, on Tuesday, November 9th, of our good friend, long-time Roosevelt Islander, RIRA & RIJC member, and generous benefactor to many causes. Ethel was a genuine Woman of Valor, an accomplished author, journalist, mechanical engineer, architect and urban development expert, CEO, teacher, dedicated student of everything, and so much more. She was frequently the “first woman to be…” in many different fields. Loved History and made History on many occasions. Ethel loved her family & friends, her life here on Roosevelt Island & in NYC, and the world itself. Always out & about, her energy, curiosity and desire to learn and share her knowledge knew no bounds.
Nina Lublin
Memorial service for Ethel Romm Sunday
Subject: Remembering Ethel Romm’s extraordinary life memorial Zoom service
For those who don’t know, my mother, Ethel Romm, died 11/9 from end-stage Alzheimer’s disease
Dan Romm is inviting you to a scheduled Zoom memorial meeting.
Sunday 11/14, 1 to 3 PM
After the short service, you are invited to share one or two memories of Ethel Romm.
Meeting ID: 878 8139 3129 Passcode: 020567 One tap mobile +13126266799,,87881393129#,,,,020567# US (Chicago) +19292056099,,87881393129#,,,,020567# US (New York)
Dial by your location +1 312 626 6799 US (Chicago) +1 929 205 6099 US (New York) +1 301 715 8592 US (Washington DC) +1 346 248 7799 US (Houston) +1 669 900 6833 US (San Jose) +1 253 215 8782 US (Tacoma) Meeting ID: 878 8139 3129 Passcode: 020567 Find your local number: https://us02web.zoom.us/u/kdDYhFclT8
Ethel with Lynne Shinozaki a few years ago in Washington, D.C.
Andy Sparberg, Rob Mac Kay, Ed Litcher, Gloria Herman got it.
Among the oldest homes in New York City and New York State,
the Bowne House was built ca. 1661 by John Bowne, who emigrated from England to Boston in 1649 and settled in Flushing, Queens, when New York was under Dutch rule. His family prospered in America: the nine generations born and raised in the house produced businessmen, horticulturists, educators and politicians.
Over the course of 300 years, the family left its mark on American culture, participating in events of both regional and national significance -starting with John Bowne’s courageous defense of religious freedom in 1662, an act which inspired the principles later codified in the Bill of Rights -and continuing with subsequent generations’ abolitionist activities and participation in the Underground Railroad.
The Bowne House Historical Society was founded in 1945 by a group of local Flushing residents for the sole purpose of purchasing the house and opening it to the public as a museum in 1947. BOWNE HOUSE, FLUSHING, NY.
CORRECTION
Andy Spanberg
May I add that the description of yesterday’s photo as shown in this morning’s edition is not correct. It is not the Second Avenue Subway. It is a part of the old Second Avenue elevated line. As I wrote, it is the “Manhattan end of Queensboro Bridge, with an IRT elevated train from either Astoria or Corona turning south onto Second Avenue. This service ended in 1942 and the tracks and structure were removed soon afterward.”
Funding Provided by: Roosevelt Island Operating Corporation Public Purpose Funds Council Member Ben Kallos City Council Discretionary Funds thru DYCD Text by Judith Berdy
ROOSEVELT ISLAND JEWISH CONGREGATION
Edited by Deborah Dorff ALL PHOTOS COPYRIGHT RIHS. 2020 (C) PHOTOS IN THIS ISSUE (C) JUDITH BERDY RIHS
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FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 2021
THE 518th EDITION
NYC UNVEILS A NEW
MEMORIAL HONORING
AFRICAN AND NATIVE
AMERICAN BURIAL GROUND
6SQFT
BY DEVIN GANNON
Photo: NYC Parks/ Malcolm Pinckney
Hundreds of New Yorkers, mostly African and Native American residents, who were buried in Flushing at least 150 years ago were finally honored with a memorial this week. The city’s Parks Department and Queens officials on Tuesday cut the ribbon on a new commemorative plaza at the Olde Towne of Flushing Burial Ground. The site, located north of 46th Avenue between 164th and 165th Streets, was used as a public burial ground starting as early as 1840, with over 1,000 individuals buried there until 1898. A new memorial wall includes the name of the sacred site, a brief history, and 318 recorded names of those buried there, and the new plaza has a butterfly garden and surrounding benches.
http://Photo: NYC Parks/ Malcolm Pinckney
“The reconstructed Olde Towne of Flushing Burial Ground memorial is a fitting tribute to those buried here who deserve dignity and respect and a space for reflection of the past and the promise of the future,” Gabrielle Fialkoff, commissioner at NYC Parks, said.
“This project is the result of the tireless efforts of the community. We are grateful to the Council Member and Borough President’s offices for their support, and to the Olde Towne of Flushing Burial Ground Conservancy for their unfaltering dedication to preserving this site’s legacy.
” Starting in the middle of the 1800s, the town of Flushing suffered from cholera and smallpox epidemics. The town, afraid those who died from these diseases would contaminate church burial grounds, purchased land from the Bowne family to create a separate burial. According to the Parks Department, following the discovery of a link between contaminated water and cholera and improvement of hygiene, the frequency of epidemics diminished and the burial ground fell into disuse.
According to the Olde Towne of Flushing Burial Ground Conservancy, the plots were “indiscriminately arranged, often unmarked, and as shallow as six inches below the surface.”
At the end of the 1800s, the burial ground was used by the African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church, which had run out of burial space at their property. Starting in 1880, the site was used as a final resting place for African Americans and Native Americans. The last burial there was in 1898, the year the City of New York was incorporated.
After Parks acquired the property, Parks Commissioner Robert Moses in 1936 built a playground on the site as part of a Works Progress Administration project, with a comfort station and wading pool added later. During construction, WPA workers found evidence of the burial ground, including pennies in the eyes of the dead, an ancient burial tradition seen also in burials excavated from the African Burial Ground in Lower Manhattan.
A Long Island Press article from 1936 detailed the WPA workers selling the coins for profit and described the men finding “bones galore” from the lot.
Photo: NYC Parks/ Malcolm Pinckney
When Parks started a renovation of the site in the 1990s, community activist Mandingo Tshaka called for the city to research its history. The city conducted an archaeological study in 1996, which discovered the site served as the final resting place for between 500 and 1,000 New Yorkers. Death records for the town of Flushing dated 1881 until 1898 show that during this period, 62 percent of the buried were African American or Native American, 34 percent were unidentified, and more than half were children under the age of five.
The site, formerly called “Pauper Burial Ground,” “Colored Cemetery of Flushing,” and “Martin’s Field,” was renamed in 2009, “The Olde Towne of Flushing Burial Ground.”
In 2018, plans were finally unveiled for the commemorative plaza and reconstructed pedestrian paths at the burial ground. Now open, the $1.76 million project involved the construction of a memorial wall made of an etched barre gray granite top. There is a butterfly garden at the center of the new plaza, which is surrounded by benches, flowering ornamental trees, and cardinal directions written in a local Native American language.
“At long last, this monument vividly restores the important history of this site, a burial ground unjustly desecrated and paved over by the city of New York decades ago in callous disregard for this final resting place of so many African and Native American residents in this community,” State Sen. John Liu said. “History must be memorialized so terrible mistakes will not be forgotten and repeated.”
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);
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Staff Sgt. Ruth Hanks, Sentinel, 4th Battalion, 3d U.S. Infantry Regiment (The Old Guard) places a rose at each of the four crypts of the Unknowns during her last walk ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Arlington National Cemetery, Va., Sept. 3, 2017. Staff Sgt. Hanks is the 4th female Sentinel to guard the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and has been guarding the tomb since September 2015. (U.S. Army Photos by Pvt. Lane Hiser)
On Veterans Day 1921, President Warren G. Harding presided over an interment ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery for an unknown soldier who died during World War I. Since then, three more soldiers have been added to the Tomb of the Unknowns (also known as the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier) memorial—and one has been disinterred. Below, a few things you might not know about the historic site and the rituals that surround it.
THERE WERE FOUR UNKNOWN SOLDIER CANDIDATES FOR THE WORLD WAR I CRYPT. To ensure a truly random selection, four unknown soldiers were exhumed from four different WWI American cemeteries in France. U.S. Army Sgt. Edward F. Younger, who was wounded in combat and received the Distinguished Service Medal, was chosen to select a soldier for burial at the Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington. After the four identical caskets were lined up for his inspection, Younger chose the third casket from the left by placing a spray of white roses on it. The chosen soldier was transported to the U.S. on the USS Olympia, while the other three were reburied at Meuse Argonne American Cemetery in France.
SIMILARLY, TWO UNKNOWN SOLDIERS WERE SELECTED AS POTENTIAL REPRESENTATIVES OF WORLD WAR II. One had served in the European Theater and the other served in the Pacific Theater. The Navy’s only active-duty Medal of Honor recipient, Hospitalman 1st Class William R. Charette, chose one of the identical caskets to go on to Arlington. The other was given a burial at sea.
THERE WERE FOUR POTENTIAL REPRESENTATIVES OF THE KOREAN WAR FOR THE TOMB OF THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER. The soldiers were disinterred from the National Cemetery of the Pacific in Hawaii. This time, Army Master Sgt. Ned Lyle was the one to choose the casket. Along with the unknown soldier from WWII, the unknown Korean War soldier lay in the Capitol Rotunda from May 28 to May 30, 1958.
THE VIETNAM WAR’S UNKNOWN SOLDIER WAS SELECTED ON MAY 17, 1984. Medal of Honor recipient U.S. Marine Corps Sgt. Maj. Allan Jay Kellogg, Jr., selected the Vietnam War representative during a ceremony at Pearl Harbor.
THE VIETNAM VETERAN WASN’T AN UNKNOWN SOLDIER FOR LONG. Thanks to advances in mitochondrial DNA testing, scientists were able to identify the remains of the Vietnam War soldier. On May 14, 1998, the remains were exhumed and tested, revealing the “unknown” soldier to be Air Force 1st Lt. Michael Joseph Blassie. He had been shot down near An Loc, Vietnam, in 1972. After his identification, Blassie’s family had him moved to Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery in St. Louis. Instead of adding another unknown soldier to the Vietnam War crypt, the crypt cover has been replaced with one bearing the inscription, “Honoring and Keeping Faith with America’s Missing Servicemen, 1958-1975.”
THE TOMB OF THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER’S MARBLE SCULPTORS ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR MANY OTHER U.S. MONUMENTS. The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was designed by architect Lorimer Rich and sculptor Thomas Hudson Jones, but the actual carving was done by the Piccirilli Brothers. Even if you don’t know them, you know their work: The brothers carved the 19-foot statue of Abraham Lincoln for the Lincoln Memorial, the lions outside the New York Public Library, the Maine Monument in Central Park, the DuPont Circle Fountain in Washington, D.C., and much more.
THE TOMB OF THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER HAS BEEN GUARDED 24/7 SINCE 1937. Tomb Guards come from the 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment, “The Old Guard.” Serving the U.S. since 1784, the Old Guard is the oldest active infantry unit in the military. They keep watch over the memorial every minute of every day, including when the cemetery is closed and in inclement weather.
BECOMING A TOMB GUARD IS INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT. Members of the Old Guard must apply for the position. If chosen, the applicant goes through an intense training period, in which they must pass tests on weapons, ceremonial steps, cadence, military bearing, uniform preparation, and orders. Although military members are known for their neat uniforms, it’s said that the Tomb Guards have the highest standards of them all. A knowledge test quizzes applicants on their memorization—including punctuation—of 35 pages on the history of the tomb. Once they’re selected, guards “walk the mat” in front of the tomb for anywhere from 30 minutes to two hours, depending on the time of year and time of day. They work in 24-hour shifts, however, and when they aren’t walking the mat, they’re in the living quarters beneath it. This gives the sentinels time to complete training and prepare their uniforms, which can take up to eight hours. Tomb Guards serve for an average of 18 months.
THE HONOR OF GUARDING THE TOMB OF THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER IS ALSO INCREDIBLY RARE. The Tomb Guard badge is the least awarded badge in the Army, and the second least awarded badge in the overall military. (The first is the astronaut badge.) Tomb Guards are held to the highest standards of behavior, and can have their badge taken away for any action on or off duty that could bring disrespect to the tomb. And that’s for the entire lifetime of the Tomb Guard, even well after his or her guarding duty is over. For the record, it seems that Tomb Guards are rarely female—only six women have held the post.
THE STEPS PERFORMED IN FRONT OF THE TOMB OF THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER HAVE SPECIFIC MEANING. Everything the guards do is a series of 21, which alludes to the 21-gun salute. According to TombGuard.org:
“The Sentinel does not execute an about face, rather they stop on the 21st step, then turn and face the Tomb for 21 seconds. They then turn to face back down the mat, change the weapon to the outside shoulder, mentally count off 21 seconds, then step off for another 21 step walk down the mat. They face the Tomb at each end of the 21 step walk for 21 seconds. The Sentinel then repeats this over and over until the Guard Change ceremony begins.”
GUARDS DO NOT WEAR THEIR RANK WHILE ON DUTY AT THE TOMB OF THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER. Every other service member wears insignia on their uniforms that denote their rank—but not the Tomb Guards. Since the identities and ranks of the soldiers within in the tomb are not known, the guards don’t wear their insignia to avoid potentially outranking the soldiers they’re watching over.
M. FRANK, GLORIA HERMAN, LAURA HUSSEY, ARLENE BESSENOFF GOT IT RIGHT………………..ERIE LACKAWANA TERMINAL IN JERSEY CITY
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Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Deborah Dorff All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
MENTAL FLOSS
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80-foot-tall sculpture and new public plaza unveiled on Jersey City’s waterfront
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Photo Credit: SJ Martinez Photography
A massive sculptural portrait was unveiled on the Jersey City waterfront this week, along with a new public plaza. Created by Barcelona-based artist Jaume Plensa, Water’s Soul is a monumental 80-foot-tall sculpture depicting a young person in contemplation. The new permanent artwork sits on the Hudson River in Newport, the master-planned, mixed-use community developed by the LeFrak Organization and Simon Property Group.
“I believe in the spirit of water too, and its great capacity for connection and transformation. Water is the great public space — it does not belong to anyone and at the same time belongs to all of us.”
The sculpture is Plensa’s tallest work and second major installation in the New York area, preceded by “Voices” at 30 Hudson Yards in 2018.
Along with the new sculpture, a new walkway designed by MNLA was unveiled. The landscaped path connects to Newport’s Hudson River Waterfront Walkway, as well as a new “art plaza.” The newly opened plaza and pier walkway is part of a broader plan from the developer for park space on the waterfront, including a dog run and an overlook with a deck and tree pits, as Jersey Digs reported.
“This is transformative,” Jersey City Mayor Steven Fulop said of the sculpture. “It adds to the arts community here in Jersey City and further enhances Jersey City as an arts destination.”
Jersey City’s art scene is flourishing, thanks to the city’s longstanding public mural program, the Mana Contemporary art center, and in 2024, the first North American outpost of the Parisian museum, The Centre Pompidou.
Water’s Soul is located at 1 Park Lane South next to Newport Green and in front of LeFrk’s Ellipse rental tower. During the winter season, the sculpture will be open for public viewing from dawn to dusk.
SUNY Albany built under Governor Nelson Rockefeller.
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated:
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MONDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 2021
The 514th Edition
GREGORIO PRESTPINO
ARTIST
1930’s to 1970’s
Gregorio Prestopino/001 Dominus Vobiscum 1936 oil on canvas 27×40.jpg
Gregorio Prestopino (1907 – 1984) “I knew at twelve that I was going to be an artist and that there was no other way I could conceive of having a life.”Known during the 1930’s and 1940’s as a social realist*, Gregorio Prestopino, or “Presto” as he was called by friends, spent the last several decades of his career creating a joyous, enchanted world of sunlit landscapes populated by vibrantly colored nymphs. Though these paintings were related to his previous work in their adherence to a painterly style with strong graphic underpinnings, to many observers they were such a radical departure that they appeared to have been produced by an entirely different, and much younger, artist. Prestopino’s friends Rosellen Brown and Marvin Hoffman wrote, “looking at the dark and angry early paintings, it feels as though Presto has lived his life backward, from disillusionment to joy.”Born on New York’s Lower East Side in 1907, Prestopino showed early promise and, at the age of fourteen, was awarded a scholarship to the National Academy of Design. It was there that he fell under the influence of the Ashcan painters. As a young man, he set up his first studio in Harlem and, for the next thirty years, concentrated on depicting the grit of city life – docks, laborers, vendors, Lower East Side streets and, in the 1950’s, Harlem life.Prestopino received much acclaim during the 1940’s, and was, along with Ben Shahn and Philip Evergood, on the best known of the social realist painters. He won a major award in 1946 from the prestigious Pepsi-Cola competition for this painting, Morning Conference. In 1954, on becoming the Director of the McDowell Colony, Prestopino began spending five months each year in Peterborough, New Hampshire.By the early 1960’s, Russell Lynes observed: “[in Prestopino’s work] the sound of the city… gave way to the sounds of the country, the relentless of bricks and pavement and steel to the happy disorder of dappled things.” Prestopino continued painting the sylvan world until his death in 1984.Prestopino’s influence as a teacher, mostly at the New School for Social Research in New York, has been attested to by such former students as Red Grooms. Prestopino was Painter in Residence at the American Academy in Rome during 1968-69. His work has been widely exhibited and can be found in many major public collections, including the Whitney Museum of American Art, the Museum of Modern Art in New York the Art Institute of Chicago, the Smithsonian Museum and the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington, D.C., which owns over twenty-five of his works.
Gregorio Prestopino/002 Days Work 1940 oil on canvas 44×36.jpg
Gregorio Prestopino/005 Bread and the City 1945 oil on canvas 29×36.jpg
Gregorio Prestopino/007 Two Men Two Bridges 1947 oil on canvas 26×32.jpg
Gregorio Prestopino/008 Men and Images 1948 oil on canvas 26×34.jpg
Gregorio Prestopino/010 Spring Garden, Coal Country 1950 oil on canvas 41×34.jpg
Gregorio Prestopino/027 Green Nude with Bluejay 1972 oil on canvas 54×48.jpg
Gregorio Prestopino/028 Brown Brook 1980 oil on canvas 46×50.jpg
Gregorio Prestopino/027 Green Nude with Bluejay 1972 oil on canvas 54×48.jpg
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff FUNDING PROVIDED BY ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE GRANTS CITY COUNCIL REPRESENTATIVE BEN KALLOS DISCRETIONARY FUNDING THRU DYCD
When hostilities in 1939 created a combat situation between allied European nations and Germany, initiating the Second World War, the United States was officially neutral. However, the construction of ships began in America, to aid Great Britain and her allies.
When the events of 1941 pulled the U.S. into the conflict, the Navy and the Wartime Shipping Administration had a very serious need for vessels to transport war materials. This task was the duty of the country’s Merchant Marine, and all possible craft were requisitioned, including those on the Great Lakes and inland waterways.
Sailors at sea, since ancient times, have crafted all types of tales. The ferocity of a dark windswept night and the splendor of the sun descending into an endless horizon have wrought fantastic tales, which have survived for generations before the mast. One such yarn, which morphed into a fabled saga amongst seamen, was that of the Lorelei.
This sea spirit was the mythic form of a young woman who, finding herself the victim of an unfaithful fisherman, cast herself into the Rhine River in Germany. She emerged as an eternal specter, still alluringly beautiful, yet seeking to wrought vengeance on all those who took to boats. The methods of the Lorelei were that of a licentious and dissolute profligate, which certainly aided in the retelling of the tale amongst sailors.
Several years before the Second World War, George and Ira Gershwin, the wizards of Tin Pan Alley, produced a Broadway show titled, Pardon My English, based upon the legend of the Lorelei. This show was not the greatest success for the Brothers Gershwin, but its Lorelei lyrics made a lasting impression on many.
In late 1932 the New York Times opined “several of the tunes may be crooned in the privacy of one’s bathroom without the assistance of a symphony orchestra.” The New York Sun review of Pardon My English termed the show a “biological comedy.” In upstate New York, the Knickerbocker Press wrote, “it is also occasionally dirty in its lines and suggestion.” Indeed Ira Gershwin’s lyrics about the Lorelei may have precipitated that interpretation:
Back in the days of knights in armor There once lived a lovely charmer Swimming in the Rhine Her figure was divine She had a yen for all the sailors Fishermen and gobs and whalers She had a most immoral eye They called her Lorelei She created quite a stir And I want to be like her I want to be like that gal on the river Who sang her song to the ships passing by She had the goods and how she could deliver The Lorelei She used to love in a strange kind of fashion With lots of hey-ho-de-ho-hi-de-hi And I can guarantee I’m full of passion Like the Lorelei I’m treacherous, yeah-yeah Oh, I just can’t hold myself in check I’m lecherous, yeah-yeah I want to bite my initials on a sailor’s neck Each affair has a kick and a wallop For what they crave, I can always supply I want to be just like that other trollop The Lorelei
Much like the popular song “Lili Marlene,” the legend of The Lorelei was known to many mariners during World War II, no matter what flag their vessels flew.
Industrialist Henry Ford built a manufacturing empire, based near Detroit, Michigan. Ford also built plants on the eastern seaboard, which he networked together with four specially built motorships which were constructed to maximize the dimensions of the New York State Barge Canal, which linked the Great Lakes to the Atlantic.
The Ford vessels were named for the east coast plants, Chester (Pennsylvania), Edgewater (New Jersey), Norfolk (Virginia) and Green Island in New York’s Hudson River. All these vessels were transferred to the Merchant Marine when Uncle Sam went to war, and used in coastal transport.
The United States Merchant Marine, or civilian sailors serving aboard Federal vessels, has existed since the Revolutionary War. One such merchant seaman was Curzon Scott, originally from Deposit, New York and the son of Cornelius E. Scott, a prominent attorney there.
During the First World War Curzon Scott served as a Merchant Marine officer. He was aboard a vessel which was sunk, or in sailor slang, “bumped.” Following that conflict, he found a position with the New York State Department of Public Works, and was assigned to the Binghamton office.
In 1920, as a reserve officer, Scott passed the government examination held by the United States shipping board in New York and received a license as chief mate on steam vessels of any tonnage. His wife, the former Mabel Owen, a native of Wellsburg in Chemung County, was a nurse at the Binghamton State Hospital.
In April of 1941, eight months before the attack on Pearl Harbor, Curzon Scott received a commission and re-entered the Merchant Marine. He was aboard the merchant vessel Pine Ridge, and “bumped” a second time when they ran aground near Nova Scotia, victims of saboteurs who had shifted channel buoys. The ship and everyone aboard eventually reached port safely.
Curzon Scott was next assigned as Chief Mate on the former Ford vessel Green Island, under the command of Master Josef Anderson. On May 6th, 1942, Scott was taking his turn at the helm of the Green Island while transiting the Caribbean about 80 miles southwest of Grand Cayman Island on a clear day.
Suddenly, the Green Island was struck about six feet below the waterline, between the fourth and fifth cargo hatch, by a torpedo fired from the Nazi submarine U-125. The resulting explosion nearly broke the out-of-place canal boat in half, but no one aboard was injured. The pilot in command, Curzon Scott issued the order to abandon ship, and the full complement of 22 men evacuated to the two life boats.
Upon his return to Upstate New York, Scott detailed his experience staring down the surfaced sub’s gun barrel to the Binghamton Press thus, “After the lifeboats were launched, and before the submarine commander had time to ask for his information, I asked: “Have you got the third verse of the Lorelei aboard?”
The U-125 was commanded by Kapitanleutnant Ulrich Folkers, who had been awarded the Iron Cross, and had sunk four vessels previously. Scott continued with his retelling of his encounter with the Nazi Commander, “I told him that I’d been bumped three times and that I was supposed to add a new verse of the Lorelei every time — that, furthermore every member of my crew could sing two verses verbatim.”
Scott signaled his name and rank, and appealed once more “to send me the third verse” of the Lorelei if it were aboard. This elicited a response from the submarine commander who answered “No” to having the requested third verse. Scott was pleased to relate Commander Folkers’ next action, “he stood on the bridge and saluted me and motioned that we were to shove off. The ship sank in a short time.”
Curzon Scott concluded with his feeling “that he believed the crew of the Green Island was saved by his humor.” Certainly it helped that Commander Folkers was apparently familiar with the legend of the Lorelei.
The survivors of the Green Island, and their two lifeboats were picked up on May 7 by the British merchant steamer Fort Qu ‘ Appelle, which was sailing on its maiden voyage. The ship had recently been built in Vancouver, British Columbia, and launched in March, having transited the Panama Canal on its way to the United Kingdom by way of Halifax, Nova Scotia. The Fort Qu ‘ Appelle landed the Green Island merchant sailors at Kingston, Jamaica on May 9, 1942, where they were repatriated.
Curzon Elliott Scott did not survive the war. He had long been under care for a heart ailment, and succumbed to a heart attack in Binghamton. The April 19th, 1943 Binghamton Press wrote that the, “43-year-old merchant- mariner and native of Deposit whose ability to grin and sense of humor probably saved the lives of 22 crewmen of a 3,000-ton motorship last May when it was torpedoed by a German submarine in the Caribbean Sea.”
Ulrich Folkers also did not survive the war, perishing with all aboard the U-125 when it was sunk by the Royal Navy in the North Atlantic, ironically a year to the day after the sinking of the Green Island, on May 6th, 1943.
The new British merchant vessel Fort Qu ‘ Appelle, never made it to Halifax, being sunk in the busy shipping lanes approximately 250 miles south and east of the Port of New York by another Nazi U-Boat (U-135). An unfortunate outcome resulted for many involved in a single wartime incident in the warm Caribbean, lending more credence to the lethal legend of the Lorelei.
Photos, from above: the launching Ford Motor Company ship “Green Island” at Great Lakes Engineering Works, Ecorse, Michigan, 1937; the Green Island arriving at New York City dock, August 4th, 1937; Curzon Scott (Binghamton Press); and Kapitanleutnant Ulrich Folkers (courtesy Uboat.net).
LAURA HUSSEY AND ED LITCHER BOTH GOT IT RIGHT! This photo of Floating Woman by Gaston LaChaise 1927 at the Museum in Canberra, Australia in the sculpture garden. One of nine casts created of this sculpture is now installed at Hunters Point South Park in Long Island City for a year.
Funding Provided by: Roosevelt Island Operating Corporation Public Purpose Funds Council Member Ben Kallos City Council Discretionary Funds thru DYCD Text by Judith Berdy
NEW YORK ALMANACK
Edited by Deborah Dorff ALL PHOTOS COPYRIGHT RIHS. 2020 (C) PHOTOS IN THIS ISSUE (C) JUDITH BERDY RIHS
WE ARE HAPPY TO REPORT THAT THE GIRL PUZZLE IS NEARLY COMPLETE, WITH THE ART PIECES ERECTED, THE SITE CLEANED AND THE GRASS HAS BEEN SEEDED. THOUGH STILL BEHIND A FENCE THE WORKS ARE CLEARLY VISIBLE.
ONE THING LACKING IS ANY WORD ON THE PROJECT FROM RIOC. OUR FOUR MEMBER “COMMUNICATIONS TEAM” MEMBERS SEEM TO BE MISSING IN ACTION.
LET’S HOPE THAT WE SOON SEE SOME WORD FROM OUR OWN STAFF.
WE KNOW THAT OUR FRIENDS AT PROMETHEUS, WHO DESIGNED, BUILT, SUPERVISED HAVE HAD NUMEROUS REQUESTS ABOUT THE GIRL PUZZLE. THE BEST PUBLICITY IS THE CURIOUS PUBLIC ASKING ABOUT THE PROJECT.
ONE OUTSTANDING MEMBER OF THE RIOC STAFF IS PROJECT MANAGER PRINCE SHAH WHO HAS GONE ABOVE AND BEYOND TO SEE THIS PROJECT THRU. HE IS TIRELESSLY MULTI-TASKING WHILE OTHERS ARE OUT OF SIGHT.
JUDITH BERDY
NEXT TO EACH HEAD IS A MINIATURE MODEL AND A DESCRIPTION IN BRAILLE WITH A QR CODE TO HEAR THE HISTORY.
THE ORBS REFLECT THE WOMEN AND THEIR IMAGES REFLECT
THE RIHS VISITOR CENTER KIOSK, AN EXAMPLE OF CAST IRON ARCHITECTURE Andy Sparberg, Thom Heyer and Gloria Herman 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)
THE LILY
WASHINGTON POST
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New York is a city defined by its neighborhoods, and in Manhattan, there is one district that stands out for its heritage of unique architecture. In downtown Manhattan lies the SoHo district, whose name is an amalgam describing the area “SOuth of HOuston.” The moniker was first coined by city Planner Chester Raskin in a 1963 city planning report.
Photo by Marc Gordon
The neighborhood has had many incarnations since its early beginnings in the 17th century as New York’s first free Black settlement, granted to former slaves by the Dutch West India company. By the 1660s, the land was acquired by Nicholas Bayard, the nephew of Peter Stuyvesant, Director General of Dutch New York. The area maintained its rural character until the mid-18th century, but as the city’s population grew and development inched northward, the local marshes and streams were drained and hills 2343 leveled for development. Once Broadway was paved, it ushered in the construction of Federal and Greek Revival-style row houses and developed into a middle-class enclave.
Canal Street circa the 1700s. Image in the public domain via Wikimedia Commons user SteinsplitterBot.
By the mid-19th century, the area became the heart of Manhattan’s burgeoning shopping, hotel, and entertainment district. This growth led to the development of more substantial buildings. Retail establishments such as Tiffany & Co. and Lord & Taylor got their starts in SoHo. Theaters, music halls, and bars sprang up along Broadway, with less respectable establishments located along the side streets. Brothels, primarily located on Greene and Mercer Streets, formed the city’s first red-light district. With the decline of the neighborhood’s residential character, many middle-class residents chose to relocate uptown. By the end of the Civil War, factories, mills, and warehouses started moving into the area, driving the need for larger industrial structures to accommodate machinery and storage needs.
For many years, cast iron had been used in bridge construction, building beams and columns, and decorative elements. Developed in New York, the timely innovation was to use cast iron not only for the structure but also for the façade. The primary advantage of cast iron was its ability to span longer distances than masonry, thus allowing for larger window openings to bring in more natural light. It also afforded more open floor space, important for arranging equipment and unfettered storage space.
The earliest example of a complete cast-iron building façade erected in New York City was introduced by James Bogardus, recognized as a pioneer of cast-iron architecture. The Edgar Laing Stores (1849) in the Washington Market District was the first self-supporting, multi-story structure with iron walls and served as the prototype for all cast-iron buildings that followed. It was designated a landmark in 1970 by the Landmarks Preservation Commission. When urban renewal all but cleared the district, the building was carefully dismantled and stored for subsequent reconstruction; however, the pieces were stolen — presumably to be sold for scrap metal.
Edgar Laing Store, Washington & Murray Streets (James Bogardus 1849). Photo via the Library of Congress.
Casting building façades was cheaper than the typical masonry construction of the day. The castings were fabricated in local foundries, usually located near the East or Hudson Rivers where shipments of coal and iron could be received. Some were located only a few blocks from SoHo, which sped up delivery and construction. Many foundries offered stock building designs that could be selected from catalogs, streamlining the design process. The process of making cast iron started with wood patterns, which were pressed into sand molds to form a negative of the casting. Molten iron would then be poured into the mold filling all the voids. When cooled, the sand mold was broken, and the casting emerged to be finished by removing any overcasting and smoothing and priming it before shipping it to a site.
Some of the local cast iron foundries included Aetna Iron Works, James L. Jackson Iron Works., Badger’s Architectural Iron Works, Long Island Iron Works, S.E. Ferdon Iron Works, and Cornell Iron Works (still in business), to name but a few.
FOUNDRY PLAQUES
While many clients opted to choose designs right out of a catalog, many prolific architects of the time (Henry Fernbach, Ernest Flagg, Griffith Thomas, John B. Snook, John Kellum, and Richard Morris Hunt) designed cast-iron buildings for their clients.
Castings could be customized with elaborate designs, and elements could be replicated uniformly as many times as needed. Cast iron could be produced much faster than cutting and carving stone, and it imitated the look of masonry façades once painted. New castings could easily be fabricated from existing patterns to replace damaged pieces. If needed, a façade could be disassembled and reassembled at a different location. Elements were lighter than their masonry counterparts, which made them easier to ship and handle. Cast iron façades were designed with an eclectic mix of primarily neo-Grec, Italianate, Renaissance Revival, and French Second Empire features, popular styles at the time.
Cast-iron buildings were the forerunner of the skyscraper, presaging innovations such as curtain wall construction, standardized prefabricated building elements, and repeating bays. Another innovation that was introduced in a cast-iron building was the world’s first public passenger elevator, installed by Elisha Otis at the E.W Haughwout Department Store in SoHo.
Despite all this, the era of cast-iron architecture was relatively short-lived. Although the buildings were touted as incombustible, floor joists and girders, usually wood and unprotected, were susceptible to fire. With the decline of urban manufacturing after World War II, many industrial businesses started moving out and the neighborhood deteriorated into an industrial slum. After a devastating fire on Wooster Street in 1958 that claimed the lives of six firefighters, the FDNY commissioner, Edward Cavanagh, called the neighborhood “Hells Hundred Acres.”
By the ’60s, the fate of the neighborhood was in jeopardy. Robert Moses proposed ramming a federally funded highway project, the Lower Manhattan Expressway (LOMAX) through the heart of SoHo.
Luckily there was vocal opposition from a coalition of community groups headed by the activists Jane Jacobs and Margot Gayle. The project was ultimately defeated in 1969. Due to the efforts of preservation groups like the Friends of Cast Iron Architecture (founded by Margo Gayle), a large portion of SoHo was designated as a historic district by the Landmarks Preservation Commission in 1973 and as a national historic landmark in 1978. While there are cast-iron buildings scattered throughout lower Manhattan, SoHo has the largest collection of full and partial cast-iron buildings in the world, with about 250 existing examples.
Pioneering artists in the 1960s seeking studio space realized the open floor plates, high ceilings, and large windows of these buildings were ideal as live-work studios and started occupying the abandoned industrial lofts even though they were zoned for commercial and manufacturing uses. Since occupancy was technically illegal, the artist community banded together to form the Artists Tenants Association to petition the city to allow live-work occupancy in non-residential zoned areas. The city agreed as long as tenants could prove they were an “artist in residence.” Galleries soon followed the artists and SoHo was transformed into the city’s premier art district. Since it’s heyday in the 1990s and 2000s, many of the district’s galleries have been displaced by high-end boutiques and restaurants. In addition, the onset of gentrification has turned artist’s studios into million-dollar residential lofts.
While the next chapter in the life of SoHo is yet to be written, the heritage of New York’s cast-iron district will remain a unique example of a stylistic and technological moment in time for fans of architectural design to appreciate and enjoy for generations to come.
VICKI FEINMEL, GLORIA HERMAN, NANCY BROWN ALL RECOGNIZED THE BENCHES OUTSIDE THE SUBWAY STATION.
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Deborah Dorff All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
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Edward Henry Potthast was born on June 10, 1857 in Cincinnati, Ohio to Henry Ignatz Potthast and Bernadine Scheiffers.[2] Starting in 1870 he studied art at the McMicken School in Cincinnati and in 1873 he started working at the Strobridge Lithography Company.[3] From June 10, 1879 to March 9, 1881,[citation needed] Potthast studied under Thomas Satterwhite Noble, a retired Confederate Army captain who had studied with Thomas Couture in Paris.[4] Potthast later studied at the Royal Academy in Munich with the American-born instructor Carl Marr. After returning to Cincinnati in 1885 he resumed his studies with Noble. In 1886, he departed for Paris, where he studied with Fernand Cormon. In 1895 he relocated to New York City and remained there until his death in 1927.[citation needed]
Until the age of thirty-nine Potthast earned a living as a lithographer. The purchase of one of his paintings by the Cincinnati Museum of Art may have encouraged him to abandon lithography for a career as a fine artist.[5] His paintings retained the subdued colors and strong contrasts of the Munich school until he adopted the Impressionist palette late in his career.[citation needed]
After his arrival in New York Potthast worked as a magazine illustrator, and exhibited regularly at the National Academy of Design, the Society of American Artists and the Salmagundi Club, winning numerous prizes. By 1908 he was installed in a studio in the Gainsborough Building. Thereafter he painted sun-saturated images of Central Park, New England landscapes, and the Long Island beach scenes for which he is best remembered.[6]
His work is included in many major museums in the United States,[7] including the Orlando Museum of Art,[5] the Brooklyn Museum,[8] the Cape Ann Museum,[9] the Delaware Art Museum,[10] the University of Michigan Museum of Art,[11] the Phoenix Art Museum,[12] the Nasher Museum of Art,[13] and the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts.[14]
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from the collection of the New York Public Library
Dr. James Knight arrived in New York City from Baltimore in 1842 at the age of 32, and became associated with the famed Dr. Valentine Mott. The New York Times later said, “While thus engaged he conceived the idea of establishing a hospital for the relief of the offspring of the poor, who by reason of deformity and malformation were rendered helpless.” The need was severe, as the New-York Tribune later recalled. “The majority of the [crippled] children died. The rest were thrown out on the world to become beggars, and to trade on their deformities.”
Dr. Knight (who developed his own methods to treat physical deformities) organized the Society for the Relief of the Ruptured and Crippled in 1863, with backing from R. M. Hartley, Robert B. Minturn and Joseph B. Collins. Knight was appointed its resident surgeon. But there was a problem. “It was not rich enough to purchase a site and build,” explained The New York Times, so Knight “offered the use of the upper story of his own private dwelling.” The make-do space could accommodate 28 beds, and received its first patient, a four-year-old boy, on May 1, 1863.
Twenty-eight beds would not be sufficient for long. The New York Times reported that the hospital had treated 2,000 patients in 1868. Its Board of Managers, therefore, acquired the plot of land on the northwest corner of 42nd Street and Lexington Avenue as the site for a proper facility. In January 1869 architect E. T. Polland filed plans for a four-story and basement hospital “to accommodate 200 children.” The cost of construction was placed at $150,000. As it turned out, it soared to $250,000, more than $4.8 million today.
Designed in the Ruskinian Gothic style, the building was faced in brick and trimmed in “brown and Ohio stone.” The two colors of stone provided the alternating hues of the arches, obligatory in the style. Two massive turrets formed the corners of the 115-foot wide front, and a lacy iron balcony girded the fourth floor. Within a circular cartouche above the main entrance was a carved angel assisting a crippled woman on crutches. Below it was inscribed, “Then shall the lame man leap as an hart.”
The basement held the general dining room; the first floor contained the offices of the physicians, the matron, and the nurses. The boys’ dormitory engulfed the second floor, and the third held the girls’ dormitory. The entire fourth floor was used as a playground, classrooms, and gymnasium. It was not all fun and games there, however. In the gymnasium the children received physical therapy and treatments–often experimental.
A stretching exercise was part of this group’s physical therapy in 1902. New-York Tribune, November 2, 1902 (copyright expired)
The patients were also given schooling, The New York Times explaining that they “received in the hospital such an education as, under happier circumstances, they would get in the public schools.” There was a special focus on making them self-sufficient despite their disabilities. (As The New York Times reminded readers on April 3, 1869, “These children, except for charity, would be burdens upon the public, left to drag out their lives in hopeless suffering.”)
A “social reception” was held for supporters in “their magnificent new hospital,” as worded by The New York Times, on November 10, 1870. The article noted that since its organization the facility had treated 11,000 children.
The site which the Society chose was, perhaps, in danger from the beginning. Cornelius Vanderbilt was amassing land just to the west for his massive Grand Central Depot. The Sun described the block on December 14, 1869, saying, “The western portion of the east half is covered by the Croton Market, and the corner of Lexington avenue by an elegant new building for the hospital for the relief of the ruptured and crippled. It is understood that the Commodore designs a raid on these institutions in order to secure possession of the entire block for the purposes of his railroads.” It was a “design” the Vanderbilts would not give up.
An annex to the hospital, erected a few years later behind the main building, held employee bathrooms, sleeping rooms for servants, and storerooms.
Dr. Knight remained at the helm, with the title of Surveyor-in-Chief, despite a few rocky periods. In August 1887 he was forced to defend the nurses and teachers when complaints of what today would be termed child abuse reached the newspapers. An investigation, he said, did uncover one teacher who boxed the ears of a student, but “no patient was injured.” The teacher was fired. He was also accused of firing any physicians on staff who did not agree with his procedures or who wanted to try their own treatments. Knight died on October 24, 1887.
from the collection of the New York Public Library
Around 6:30 on the evening of January 29, 1888 a little girl was passing the room of resident surgeon Dr. Eli E. Joselyn when she smelled smoke. She ran to him and the small fire on top of his bureau was quickly squelched. The New York Times reported, “no damage except the destruction of the bureau cover and a pair of suspenders was done.”
The article continued, “After the fire was extinguished the doctor went to dinner. Ten minutes later fire was discovered in the bathroom at the bottom of the stairway running through the annex.” That fire was discovered by two girl patients who informed a nurse. “By this time,” said the article, “the fire had assumed threatening proportions.”
The 163 children were quickly and systematically evacuated. The New York Times reported that “calamity was averted by the courage and coolness of the doctors and nurses in charge of the little cripples and the ready help given by the police, firemen, and many citizens.” The children who were mobile were lead out, while those who could not walk “were aroused quietly, wrapped in their blankets, and carried down stairs.” Most of the children were taken in by the Vanderbilt Hotel, while homeowners “threw open their doors and were proud to have the privilege of sheltering and caring for the little unfortunates.” One patient, 18-year-old Alice Ramsey, had only one arm, but she “made good use of her remaining arm in carrying several children across the street to the hotel.”
The fire had broken out in the annex, occupied solely by the servants. Tragically, while the children were all safely evacuated, the head cook, Mary Donnelly, was asleep in her bed and died of smoke inhalation.
Investigators were at a loss to explain the origin of the blaze. A newspaper noted, “It started in a part of the building in which fire is not kept, and it is difficult to see how gas could have started the blaze.” Fire investigators dismissed the earlier fire in Dr. Josselyn’s room as “not worth mention as a coincidence.” As things turned out, however, it was anything but a coincidence.
The following day Dr. W. Travers Gibb noticed that someone had been in his room, which was uncomfortably hot. He discovered that a box of matches had been placed on the floor register, the heat turned fully up, and a reclining chair moved over the heater. The would-be arsonist intended for the matches to ignite. The same thing occurred the next day in another room. Once again the matches were found before they could ignite.
The Fire Marshall was notified and he was interviewing staff one-by-one on February 2 when yet another fire broke out. A maid entered the drawing room to find it filled with smoke. The Fire Marshal and doctors rushed to the scene, to find the pantry off the dining room “blazing fiercely.” Again the children were evacuated. The fire was quickly put out, but was “attended with great excitement and almost a panic among the children and nurses,” said The New York Times.
At the time May Wilson had been a patient in the hospital for three years. Affectionately called Mamie, the 11-year-old suffered from a “wry neck,” a condition known today as torticollis, a twisted or tilted neck. Because of that she wore “an iron frame” which forced her head into a straight position. Mamie was well-liked by the other children and the staff. She was highly intelligent and because she was totally ambulatory, was allowed to move freely throughout the building. She was often entrusted to go outside the hospital on errands for the staff and routinely answered the doorbell.
Now, as hospital employees talked to one another, suspicion began to focus on Mamie. One chambermaid remembered her coming out of the dining room and shutting the door behind her just minutes before the fire was discovered. The matron said that Mamie had “hurried” into her room, asking if she did not have an errand for her to attend to outside. And another servant recalled that Mamie had just come out of the ladies’ bathroom prior to the first fire.
Fire Marshall Sheldon called for her. Initially the girl denied any involvement, but finally broke down and gave a tearful confession. On February 4 the New Jersey newspaper The Patterson Morning Call reported, “Little May Wilson, the 11-year-old child who confessed to having on several occasions set fire to the Hospital for the Ruptured and Crippled, was arraigned in the Yorkville police court and turned over to the care of the Children’s society. Richard Wilson, the father of the young culprit, is entirely at a loss to account for the child’s conduct.”
Mamie’s plight was dire. Legally, because a death had occurred because of her actions, she could face execution. She first appeared before a judge on the day of her arrest, too traumatized to answered with anything more than “yes” or “no.” A trial before a coroner’s jury was held on February 8. The girl was not forced to take the stand in her own defense “on account of the highly-excited state she had been in every since the occurrence,” according to the Children’s Aid Society physician. Despite Mamie’s written confession, she was exonerated for a lack of evidence–an apparent act of compassion by the coroner and the jury. She was remanded to the custody of the Children’s Aid Society.
Activities taking place on the fourth floor in 1875. from the collection of the New York Public Library
On January 27, 1902 excavation work was underway for the subway trench below Park Avenue at 41st Street. At noon workmen attempted to dry rain-dampened dynamite by igniting loose powder. The imprudent idea resulted in half a ton of dynamite exploding. Eight people were killed immediately, four others died later, and several hundred were injured by flying glass and rocks. The impact was felt more than a block away at the hospital. The New-York Tribune reported that “beyond a small panic among the two hundred children inmates of the institution, there were no fatalities…Many of the windows on the Forty-second-st. side of the hospital were smashed, and the patients in these rooms had to be removed to other parts of the building.” Sixteen injured civilians were brought to the hospital, keeping the four house surgeons and nurses busy for more than two hours. On December 23, 1910 the New-York Tribune reported, “Even this afternoon the jingle of sleigh-bells will send the color to the cheeks of children at the New York Society for the Relief of the Ruptured and Crippled…Children will act in a play called ‘Santa Claus’s Visit.” It would be the last Christmas party in the building. A month earlier, on November 26, the Record & Guide had reported that the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad Company had finally acquired the property it had eyed for nearly half a century. “It is announced that a portion of the block will be improved with a high-class hotel building,” said the article. The Hotel Commodore–named for Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt–would be part of the new Grand Central Terminal complex designed by Warren & Wetmore. Demolition on the hospital began on June 1, 1911, while construction was underway for a new facility down the street at 321 East 42nd Street. The Commodore Hotel still stands, albeit completely unrecognizable after being gutted and refaced in the 1980’s for the Hyatt chain.
HOSPITAL FOR SPECIAL SURGERY is the continuation of the work that began in 1863
The grandest speculative row houses to date in New York City, these houses were built for the mercantile elite, miles away from their places of work. Unlike the typical row house, this group is not brick, it is not a box with a door, and it doesn’t have an exterior stoop or dormer windows. Instead, it is a New York version of Regent’s Park in London, with columns built by Sing Sing prisoners.
Colonnade Row is among the greatest architectural treasures of the Village. Built on Lafayette St. in 1832, its official name is LaGrange Terrace, after Lafayette’s country estate in France, though this ensemble row is really a monument to fur trader and real-estate baron, John Jacob Astor.
The landmarked Colonnade Row on today’s Lafayette Street was built in 1833 by architect Seth Geer and originally consisted of nine houses, of which only four remain today. When first built the houses were occupied by social bright lights of the era such as the Astors and Vanderbilts.As Lafayette Street grew, ironically Colonnade Row shrunk!
Living in a landmark building like Colonnade Row may sound romantic — after all, the residences, built in 1833, once housed Cornelius Vanderbilt, Washington Irving, and William Makepeace Thackeray. But that imposing Neoclassical façade hid an elegant mess. When architects Clarissa Richardson and Heidar Sadeki, of UT, were called to renovate this duplex, they found floors that canted right like the deck of a ship, French doors that were crumbling to dust. Even the marble fireplace was falling apart. UT held on to the mantelpiece as a totem of the building’s grand past, but stripped the rest to its bones, creating a smooth, streamlined space. They kept the bedroom small and gave the bathroom — fitted with two oversize lilac tubs — a glass wall, to integrate it into the living space (yes, the glass turns opaque). The other design challenge was accommodating the owners’ two diminutive and obsessively loved dogs.
Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff FUNDING PROVIDED BY ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE GRANTS CITY COUNCIL REPRESENTATIVE BEN KALLOS DISCRETIONARY FUNDING THRU DYCD
When hostilities in 1939 created a combat situation between allied European nations and Germany, initiating the 
Industrialist Henry Ford built a manufacturing empire, based near Detroit, Michigan. Ford also built plants on the eastern seaboard, which he networked together with four specially built motorships which were constructed to maximize the dimensions of the New York State Barge Canal, which linked the Great Lakes to the Atlantic.
The United States Merchant Marine, or civilian sailors serving aboard Federal vessels, has existed since the Revolutionary War. One such merchant seaman was Curzon Scott, originally from Deposit, New York and the son of Cornelius E. Scott, a prominent attorney there.
Upon his return to Upstate New York, Scott detailed his experience staring down the surfaced sub’s gun barrel to the Binghamton Press thus, “After the lifeboats were launched, and before the submarine commander had time to ask for his information, I asked: “Have you got the third verse of the Lorelei aboard?”
