Kapiʻolani (December 31, 1834 – June 24, 1899) was the queen of the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi as the consort of Mōʻī (king) Kalākaua, who reigned[3] from 1874 to 1891[4] until Mōʻī’s death when she became known as the Dowager Queen Kapiʻolani. Deeply interested in the health and welfare of Native Hawaiians, Kapiʻolani established the Kapiʻolani Home for Girls, for the education of the daughters of residents of the Kalaupapa Leprosy Settlement, and the Kapiʻolani Maternity Home, where Hawaiian mothers and newborns could receive care.
Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee celebration In April 1887, Kalākaua sent a delegation to attend the Golden Jubilee of Queen Victoria in London. It included Kapiʻolani, Princess Liliʻuokalani and Liliʻuokalani’s husband John Owen Dominis, as well as Court Chamberlain Colonel Curtis P. Iʻaukea acting as the king’s official envoy of the King and Colonel James Harbottle Boyd acting as aide-de-camp to the Queen.
The party landed in San Francisco and traveled across the United States visiting Washington, D.C., Boston and New York City, where they boarded a ship for the United Kingdom.
While in the American capital, they were received by President Grover Cleveland and his wife Frances.
In London, Kapiʻolani and Liliʻuokalani were granted an audience with Queen Victoria at Buckingham Palace. She greeted both Hawaiian royals with affection and recalled Kalākaua’s visit in 1881. They attended the special Jubilee service at Westminster Abbey and were seated with other foreign royal guests, and with members of the Royal Household.[58] Kapiʻolani wore a peacock feathered dress design by her Special Equerry James Washington Lonoikauoalii McGuire.
Shortly after the Jubilee celebrations, they learned of political unrest in Hawaii. Under the threat of death, Kalākaua was forced to sign the Bayonet Constitution which limited the power of the monarch and increased the influence of Euro-American interests in the government. The royal party canceled their tour of Europe and returned to Hawaii.
NOTES FROM THE ROYAL DIARY ON THE VISIT TO BLACKWELL’ S ISLAND
On Wednesday, May 18, 1887, Queen Kapi’olani visited Blackwell’s Island, today’s Roosevelt Island in New York’s East River. The queen’s suite consisted of Mr. Allen, Mr. Carter, Mr. Iaukea, Mr. Boyd, Mr. McGuire, and Mr. & Mrs. Beckley. Among those accompanying the royal party were Mayor Hewitt and his wife, and the Charities and Corrections Commissioner Brennan and his wife. The total number of people on the tour that day was twenty-four. Princess Lili’uokalani wasn’t feeling well so she did not go.
It was a nice and sunny morning when the party boarded the ferry at East 26th Street. What struck McGuire when they first arrived was the beauty of the place. It was covered with grass, there were lots of trees, the roads were made of gravel, and it was kept very clean. Mayor Hewitt served as the queen’s escort during the tour of the island. Queen Kapi’olani inspected the charity hospital, the nurses’ home, the penitentiary, the workhouses for petty criminals, and the lunatic asylum. She was also shown, from a distance, the almshouses for the poor and where the prisoners quarried the stone for the buildings on the island.
When they visited the Charity Hospital: “She inspected several wards and looked so kind and motherly and interested that some of the women patients were almost tempted to swap baby stories with her. The Queen talked Hawaiian mother talk to the babies, who understood all that she said. The next place visited was the Nurses’ New Home, and here the Queen, as in the hospital, inspected everything and was greatly interested” (Pacific Commercial Advertiser, June 23, 1887).
McGuire described the Penitentiary as having dark granite walls two feet thick, and the building stood six stories tall. And he said the prisoners had short hair and wore striped blue and white pants. When they were taken through the cell corridors the queen “inspected the dark cell with considerable curiosity” especially the “delirium tremens” cell for chronic abusers of alcohol. Then Warden Pillsbury said he would show her “the prison’s big snake” which turned out to be “a band of convicts, shuffling along in lock-step” (Pacific Commercial Advertiser, June 23, 1887).
McGuire described the workhouses as places “where the street walkers & petty thieves are kept.” They saw about 100 women in a room using sewing machines making shirts for the prisoners. This was the Women’s Workhouse. They also saw cells where the men were put at night. This was the Men’s Workhouse.
Last to be visited was the Lunatic Asylum where the Amusement Hall was “profusely decorated…with national colors” and a semi-circle of chairs for the royal party was set up with “a more imposing chair” in the center for the queen (Pacific Commercial Advertiser, June 23, 1887). The patients made up the audience, and some were also the performers. The entertainment started with “Reveil de Lion” on the piano, followed by a woman singing and accompanying herself on the piano. McGuire describes the play as “a short but comical piece” and mentions that one of the actors was “a young lady dressed like a young man,” and explains that one of the actors “only the day before she was so bad that she tried to commit suicide.” Yet when he saw her on stage he couldn’t believe “that she was insane for she acted her part very well” (pg. 19). After the final song, the mayor escorted the queen out to the waiting carriages. The queen was “very affable, bowing right and left to the patients” (Pacific Commercial Advertiser, June 23, 1887).
TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT THE QUEEN’S VISIT AND THE OTHER CITIES SHE VISITED GO TO:
MITCH HAMMER, M. FRANK, LISA STERZYK AND ANDY SPARBERG GOT IT!
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)
WIKIPEDIA COLLETTE HIGGINS, UNIVERSITY OF HAWAII
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Saving America’s Cities: Ed Logue, UDC and the Creation of Roosevelt Island
by Robin Lynn
In the early 1980s, I invited Ed Logue to my home on Roosevelt Island. I knew of his role as the former president and chief executive of the NY State Urban Development Corporation (UDC), the agency that Governor Rockefeller formed in 1968 to build subsidized low- and moderate- income housing throughout New York State. I wanted to meet the mastermind behind the audacious plan that created our “new-town-in-town,” allowing me to live in the middle of the East River, raising my three children among appealing open spaces, with an unlikely form of mass transit—the tram—connecting us to 59th Street.
To my surprise, Logue accepted my luncheon call. “Residents never invite you back,“ he said to my husband Larry, and I had. Now, Lizabeth Cohen has published Saving America’s Cities , Ed Logue and the Struggle to Renew Urban America in the Suburban Age (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2019). This fascinating book tracks Logue’s work, not just in developing Roosevelt Island in the 1970s (as head of UDC), but redeveloping New Haven in the 1950s, Boston in the 1960s, and the South Bronx from 1978–85. Cohen, the current Howard Mumford Jones Professor of American Studies in the History Department at Harvard University, brings Logue’s backers and foes to life, while focusing on his vision to revitalize post-war cities. She spends considerable time documenting the rise and demise of the UDC, which had transformed Welfare Island into Roosevelt Island.
Cohen’s meticulously researched and accessible volume, which won the Bancroft Prize for history in 2020, delves into the complex world of city planning through the lens, as she states in her introduction, of “who’s in charge, who should have a say, who benefits, and who pays the bill.” Logue, Cohen writes, was enormously proud of his work on Roosevelt Island. He aimed to create what he called a “socially engineered community,” which embodied his goals for successful post-war urban living: a mixed-income, mixed-race, handicapped accessible community, with buildings designed by progressive architects working to build housing for all and using innovative building technology.
Logue couldn’t come over to the island often enough while it was being built. Cohen quotes a New York Times reporter’s description of him as, at least once a week, “plunging in his bear-like way around the site—old corduroys, green Shetland sweater, shirttail hanging out and no hard- hat covering his stack of grey hair; slow-speaking, fast-thinking, an interesting mixture of charm and combativeness.” Cohen helped put Logue’s comments to me—those that I remember, lo, these many years later—into context. But I wanted more. And although I could not invite Lizabeth Cohen over to schmooze about her book, I could contact her for the Roosevelt Island Historical Society.
Robin: Thank you for letting me email questions to you. For those who don’t know Edward J. Logue, could you please introduce our island’s planner and tell us why he is important.
Professor Cohen: Ed Logue may not be a familiar name to most people today. But in his own time, he was well known as a leader in the effort to revitalize American cities which were under severe threat from the explosion of suburbs in the 1950s and 1960s. And it was not just residents who were fleeing. So too were business headquarters, manufacturing plants, and retail stores, which meant that many jobs and urban attractions were relocating to more decentralized metropolitan areas.
In New Haven, Boston, and New York, Logue took advantage of federal funding for what was then called “urban renewal.” Many of the efforts undertaken to save cities ultimately proved terribly damaging to their survival: for example, when working-class neighborhoods were torn down to make way for new highways or housing that would retain and attract middle-class residents. I have no interest in whitewashing the worst abuses of urban renewal. But I argue in the book that we are mistaken if we assume that urban renewal meant the same thing everywhere from its establishment in 1949 until the mid-1970s, when the federal government under President Nixon withdrew funding for housing and cities. Instead, I suggest, someone like Logue made mistakes, but he also learned on the job. And over time, he experimented with new, less damaging strategies for saving cities, which he deeply valued and felt were in grave trouble. The UDC’s three New Towns, of which Roosevelt Island was one, were a way of doing things better.
Not all urban renewers were like Logue, of course. I show how, for example, his goals were much more progressive than Robert Moses’s. Roosevelt Island was so precious to Logue because it embodied his hope that city neighborhoods could be made more diverse in income, race, age, and accessibility, with affordable housing and good schools available to all who were living side-by-side. To his mind, financial support from the federal government was key to achieving this rather utopian goal of a more socially and economically integrated America.
Robin: Every morning as he shaved, Logue would look out his window onto Welfare Island, and that was how, he said to me, he became curious about the place. (From Cohen’s research I learned that his apartment was at 1 East End Avenue). With all the affordable housing projects he had under construction across the state (eventually, 115), and the pressure he was under to quickly complete them, why was he so intent on building an entire new town? What lessons did Logue learn from his work redeveloping New Haven in the 1950s, and Boston in the 1960s that determined his approach to developing Roosevelt Island?
Cohen: The New Town strategy arose out of Logue’s growing recognition that demolition-style urban renewal was not the answer. His earliest efforts in New Haven had suffered from this clearance approach. He sought alternatives in Boston. But the real breakthrough came in New York State. As he told colleagues in 1970, “We cannot…put all the emphasis on rebuilding, tearing down and rehabilitating in the inner city.”
So, instead, he sought available land where new housing could be constructed. “I don’t have to condemn it. I don’t have to relocate families. I don’t have to demolish any buildings,” he explained. He also broke with the modernist orthodoxy of separating functions, and sought to combine living, working, schooling, shopping, and recreating in one planned community.
Robin: I remember that Logue said he hired many different architects to develop Roosevelt Island so that no one firm could dominate his project. Logue, you make clear, liked to be in control. What were Logue’s criteria for selecting architects? Why was he a champion of modern architecture? Why did he equate “social engineering” with the modern movement in architecture?
Cohen: Logue wanted as much as possible to ensure that his projects avoided the cookie-cutter look—an alienating experience-of public housing. That goal included seeking alternatives to high-rise “tower-in-the-park” buildings. The UDC’s Marcus Garvey Park Village project in Brooklyn, for example, innovated what was called “low-rise, high density housing,” achieving the same number of units by designing the structures differently.
Interestingly, just when the UDC was collapsing in 1975, it was in the midst of sponsoring an architectural competition for a new, more promising prototype for high-rise-style subsidized housing on Roosevelt Island. In selecting architects, Logue wanted to attract a mixture of up-and-coming and established architects. He hoped to encourage them to make housing design more of a priority. But he was also wary of letting architects do too much of their own thing and, in that way, was a demanding client. He said, “If you leave architects alone, they will make a statement.” So he established mechanisms like the UDC’s famous “live-ins,” where architects and staff alike had to stay over in projects nearing completion to learn what worked and what didn’t.
Robin: When I moved to the island in 1980, I was only vaguely familiar with UDC and Logue’s social goals. I was more taken with the physical presence of Roosevelt Island’s river walks, open spaces, plazas, green areas, playgrounds and communal rooms, which provided a space for joint activities to take place and a community to form.
What is the role of open space in “social engineering?” Is there anything you can add about Logue’s attitude regarding how open space advances social engineering?
Cohen: That’s an interesting question. Logue liked sports and relished playing tennis and football, for example. So creating recreational facilities mattered to him in planning a community like Roosevelt Island. But even more importantly, he saw the river walks, open spaces, playgrounds, community centers, and the like as a way to advance the social mixing he advocated. Given that the buildings themselves were specified as market-rate or subsidized, there would be little social mixing there. And the most expensive units benefited from the spectacular skyline of Manhattan, while the others looked at industrial Queens. Those walkways and the mini-schools, he hoped, would be scattered throughout the many buildings (that ambition got scaled back) would be the public spaces he expected would bring people together. They would allow everyone to share the best views and a common social experience.
Robin: One of the goals of UDC was to build quickly, to fast-track construction. One of Logue’s goals for UDC was to find ways to use innovative building technology to make that happen. Can you point out innovative technological means used in constructing the island’s buildings?
Cohen: From the start, the UDC was committed to promoting innovation in building methods to make housing construction more efficient and affordable. Pre-assembly of building materials off-site cut down on the unit cost of objects, which also translated into savings in on-site labor expense. An example was the pre-assembled and presumed technologically-advanced electrical wiring panels developed by NASA.
Sometimes these efforts went awry, such as when UDC was convinced by Con Edison to install electrical heating with bulk metering on Roosevelt Island at a big savings per unit, only to find itself footing a huge bill when the energy crisis hit in 1973–74. But Logue was proud of other technological innovations on the island, such as the free electric minibuses that transported residents, the vacuum sanitation system that whisked trash under the streets to a central refuse disposal site for compacting, and, of course, the tramway. It became a necessity once it was clear that the subway would not be finished on time. And it soon became the icon of Roosevelt Island.
Robin: To build quickly, UDC was also allowed to use such tools as eminent domain to acquire land and to overrule local zoning and building codes. I’m not a big fan. I realize that my duplex apartment in Rivercross has no egress from its bottom floor where we sleep. I’m not sure I would have moved into that apartment if I had been savvy enough to realize this at the time. Why was he given permission to override local laws and was this his undoing when he tried to build affordable housing in Westchester?
Cohen: Logue understood that zoning and antiquated building codes were often used, particularly in suburbs, to keep out affordable housing. (And they still are today.) He had battled the problem in New Haven and Boston, but there he had no jurisdiction over areas outside of the city limits. Moreover, he felt strongly that the economic and social needs of underserved urban populations were not only the responsibility of cities. An entire metropolitan area, where many workers who profited from cities lived, needed to be involved.
When Logue was offered the statewide position heading the UDC, he thought he would finally have the authority to promote metropolitan-level solutions to housing, schooling, transportation access, and the like. So he pushed for the power to override local zoning and building codes if necessary. But when Logue proposed what he called a “Fair Share Housing Plan” to build 100 units of affordable housing in nine Westchester towns, he was met with violent opposition—ultimately leading to the demise of his UDC. It was a dramatic story that I tell in great detail in the book.
Robin: The island was never built out as Logue had planned. In 1975, a little less than half of the 5,000 proposed units were complete when UDC went bankrupt and construction stopped. What happened?
Cohen: The UDC had plans to keep building up Roosevelt Island. As I mentioned above, it had even sponsored an architectural competition to develop a new prototype for subsidized housing in 1974–75. But everything stopped when the UDC disastrously defaulted on notes and loans and Logue and many of his team were forced to resign. There were multiple reasons for the UDC’s default on $104.5 million in maturing short-term notes and $30 million in bank loans in February 1975. This collapse took place, of course, at a time when New York State and New York City were close to bankruptcy, so the UDC’s troubles must be put in that context as well. In fact, it was a very complicated convergence of factors, all of which are explained in Chapter 8 of my book.
Robin: Nevertheless, the truth is that none of us would be living here if Logue hadn’t conceived a plan that this “island that nobody knows”— as Welfare Island was called in 1969—could be a desirable housing haven for all. Yet there’s no place here that bears Ed Logue’s name. He should be remembered; your book fills a void, but what about recognizing him on Roosevelt Island?
Let’s ask the Roosevelt Island Historical Society readers how we can commemorate Edward J. Logue. Please send suggestions to Judy Berdy, President, Roosevelt Island Historical Society, at rooseveltislandhistory@gmail.com.
Editor’s note: Dr. Cohen’s book, Saving America’s Cities , Ed Logue and the Struggle to Renew Urban America in the Suburban Age (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2019), is available on Amazon and barnesandnoble.com. You can hear Cohen speak on the topic on Tuesday, May 18 at 7:00 pm on Zoom. Watch for the registration link in your email as the date approaches.
In the early 1900s, not every child who visited Coney Island was having a blast on the rides and in the ocean.
That’s because Coney was home to the Sea Breeze Hospital, an institution for poor children (and some of their moms) who had contracted tuberculosis in the tenement neighborhoods of the city.
Sea Breeze Hospital, Coney Island (Library of Congress) Tuberculosis is rare in New York now, and usually curable. But 100 years ago it was more common and deadly—and thought to be cured or at least eased by fresh, salty sea air.
Which is why Coney Island made the perfect place to build the hospital, equipped with its own school and partly funded by John D. Rockefeller. A New York Times article from 1905 reports:
“Yesterday afternoon at Sea Breeze the boys were playing at building terrible forts of sand, while their sisters sat in the sunshine to rock their ragged dolls to sleep. They were so healthy looking that no one would have dreamed they even had tuberculosis.”
THE ABANDONED TUBERCULOSIS HOSPITAL IN ROCKAWAY, QUEENS
FROM UNTAPPED NEW YORK
Looming over the beach in Rockaway, Queens adjacent to Jacob Riis Park is the abandoned Neponsit Beach Hospital also known as the Neponsit Children’s Hospital. The hospital once served as a tuberculosis sanatorium and operated from 1915 to 1955, and the main building was designed by the notable architectural firm McKim, Mead and White. Neponsit Beach Hospital mostly operated on children, but by World War II, the hospital began to treat military veterans until the hospital’s closure. The hospital was later converted into a Home for the Aged, a city-run nursing home that closed in 1998.
Around the start of the 1900s, the journalist Jacob Riis advocated for the creation of a children’s tuberculosis hospital in the Rockaways to take pressure off of the more prominent tuberculosis treatment centers in the city. Riis, a leader of the muckraking movement, chronicled the horrifying condition of New York’s tenements in his book How the Other Half Lives. After publishing his findings, Riis worked with the Association for Improving the Condition of the Poor and New York City Mayor George B. McClellan, Jr. to create a hospital on the beach away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
“Riis soon became an influential spokesperson to lobby for the establishment of many of the city’s parks and playgrounds, providing a haven from the stagnant air and cramped lifestyle so commonly found within the city limits,” writes Opacity. The park and hospital began development starting in 1907, but efforts were suspended until 1909 due to the disastrous Panic of 1907, when the New York Stock Exchange fell nearly 50% from the previous year’s peak. Before being transferred to the city, the hospital was built by the Association for Improving the Condition of the Poor with support by the Neponsit Realty Company and private sources.
In order to raise the $250,000 needed for the hospital’s construction, the Association distributed pictures of “Smiling Joe,” a boy suffering from spinal tuberculosis at the nearby Sea Breeze Hospital in Coney Island. The boy appeared in Association letters, newspapers, and magazines, and Theodore Roosevelt and John D. Rockefeller paid visits to “Smiling Joe.” After seeing the boy, Rockefeller contributed $125,000 to the project.
“Joe, although he suffered with spinal trouble and had to lie strapped to an iron frame, had a most cheerful smile. The doctor took his picture and sent it broadcast throughout the country, with an account of the work. Money came in with every mail, from East and West, North and South,” wrote the New York Times.
The newly opened hospital replaced Sea Breeze Hospital, as almost fifty children were transferred to Neponsit Hospital followed by children from other city hospitals, tenements, and orphanages. The main building was designed by McKim, Mead & White in a “U” shape with a capacity of 122 patients. Facing the beach were porches and open-aired balconies facing the beach so that patients could momentarily escape their painful reality.
“They become sun worshipers these little ones, who have come a long way from dreary, harassed homes that could not provide them with the proper nutrition and care; from the deadening institutionalized atmosphere of orphan asylums, from charity wards and from crowded fire escape ‘sun parlors’ perched over harrow, foul streets. In their two-wheel carts and chairs, or on crutches, or just dragging one foot after the other, slowly but without fuss, they come to the big open piazzas fronting on the beach or down to the sand for sun baths,” describes a 1930 article from the Brooklyn Eagle.
For the next two decades, the hospital treated hundreds of young tuberculosis patients, giving them opportunities to bathe in the ocean and travel outside with supervision. In 1929, city hospitals commissioner Dr. William Schroeder, Jr. announced an expansion for the hospital that would double the hospital’s capacity. The hospital soon became a project of the New Deal agency WPA, or Works Progress Administration, which employed millions of job-seekers to carry out public works projects. The Board of Estimate appropriated $300,000 for the building’s expansion, and a power plant and a nurses’ residences were soon after completed in 1939 and 1941 respectively. Two sets of murals for the hospital were commissioned by the WPA in 1938, included a set of 11 circus-inspired murals by Louis Schanker and 23 panels depicting children playing games by Helen West Heller. The WPA also created gardens around the hospital and added a sea wall.
Louis Schanker at the presentation of his W.P.A. mural at the Neponsit Beach Children’s Hospital in Queens in 1939. Andrew Herman
For the next three decades, the nursing home cared for elderly patients, mostly with Alzheimer’s. Efforts to move HIV/AIDS patients to wings of the Neponsit Home for the Aged in the 1980s failed due to high risk of disease transmission.
Yet in 1998, the renamed Neponsit Health Care Center abruptly emptied the center of 282 elderly patients in the middle of the night. As a result of a Labor Day storm, the building suffered major damage to the point that city officials thought the building would collapse. As a result of this sudden move, two patients died. A report by the federal government concluded that the evacuation was unnecessary and that health officials not only endangered patients’ lives but also lied to them about a speedy return to Neponsit.
THE ROOSEVELT ISLAND CONNECTION
Under the direction of Mayor Giuliani ,busloads of Neponsit residents were delivered to many City Hospitals, unannounced with all their possessions in black garbage bags. Thirty souls appeared at Goldwater Hospital and it was later made their home. This disgusting act by Giuliani administration was fought and the dislocated Neposit residents won a lawsuit against the City of New York.
From Facebook:
October 28, 1999 – With the sudden closing, there were rumors that Giuliani wanted to sell the land to a political ally and friend, to turn the facility into an oceanfront hotel. The plan was tripped up because the deed to the land requires it to be used as a health care facility or a park. With the residents removed and the hotel plans thwarted, the City made plans to clear the property and turn it into park land. A Legal Aid attorney, however, got a court-ordered injunction in October 1999 which prevented the city from tearing down the buildings. (Source: http://www.rockawave.com/news/2014-03-07/Front_Page/Neponsit_Money_Pit.html) Justice David Goldstein ruled in favor of the New York City Council’s motion for summary judgement and declared that: (1) HHC’s surrender of the use and occupancy of the facility required the approval of the Council; (2) the Council has the right to determine the use of the facility (hospital, park or other public purpose); and (3) the Council has the right to contest the demolition of the facility by an unsafe building hearing. (Sources: http://rockawave.our-hometown.com/news/2000-09-16/Front_Page/Neponsit_Home0916.html?print=1; Text of judgement online: https://www.nycourts.gov/library/queens/decisions/council.htm)
Due to deed restrictions that allow only a hospital or public park, little redevelopment of the site has occurred. The Neponsit Adult Day Health Care relocated to nearby Rockaway Park in 2004, but the facility still remains abandoned despite numerous efforts to develop luxury homes on the property to the dismay of local residents. A security guard booth remains in operation, even in coronavirus times along the entrance on Rockaway Beach Boulevard.
FINAL OPPORTUNITY TO REGISTER FOR TUESDAY’S PROGRAM
CENTRAL SYNAGOGUE NINA LUBLIN, JAY JACOBSON, LAURA HUSSEY, ARLENE BESSENOFF, VERN HARWOOD & 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 Deborah Dorff All image are copyrighted (c)
UNTAPPED NEW YORK
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NURSES IN TRADITIONAL WHITE PREPARED TO RENEW THEIR FLORENE NIGHTINGALE PLEDGE
THE TENT WAS DECORATED FOR A FUN BREAK FROM DAILY DUTIES
ROBERT HUGHES, EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR CHEERS COLER’S NURSING STAFF
NATASHA ELIE-ASSOCIATE EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR PRESENTS A BOUQUET TO YVES ROSE PASCAL-DIRECTOR OF NURSING
NURSES BROUGHT BACK THE TRADITIONAL CAP FOR THE OCCASION.
THE TRADITION OF PINNING THE CORSAGE ON A NURSE CONTINUED. JOVEMAY SANTOS, DIRECTOR OF THERAPEUTIC RECREATION PHOTOGRAPHS THE EVENT!!!
WATCHING THE CEREMONIES AS THE FOOD TRUCKS AWAITED WITH LUNCH.
THE WAIT FOR LUNCH WAS WORTH IT!
THURSDAY SCAVENGER HUNT
WINNING TEAM CELEBRATES WITH GOODIES THAT THEY DISCOVERED.
ANOTHER TEAM IN THE LOBBY
ON A BEAUTIFUL DAY, A BREAK IN THE SUNSHINE WAS APPRECIATED
EDITORIAL
This week has been special for the nurses and staffs of our nursing homes. After a year of struggle, the sun came out and the joy of celebrating with your co-workers was welcome.
Wednesday, the nursing profession was celebrated with a ceremony and lunch from two food trucks.
Thursday, a scavenger hunt was held with goodies hidden around the front of the campus. After that it was time for ice cream for all 600 staff!
The Coler residents also had special lunches this week along with their own out-door activities at Coler.
Thanks to all who have supported Coler, its residents and staff this past year and we are looking forward to a great summer!!
QUEENSBORO BRIDGE UNDER CONSTRUCTION VIEW FROM QUEENS JAY JACOBSON, ED LITCHER & NINA LUBLIN GOT IT!
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
JUDITH BERDY JOVEMAY SANTOS
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I noticed this little building with a large identity. Lucky that my pal Mitch Waxman has investigated and found the interesting history of this business. From the NEWTOWN PENTICLE
It’s funny how you can walk by things just about every day and not take notice of them. Case in point are the stubby streets which intersect with Jackson Avenue when turning west out of Queensboro Bridge Plaza. A couple of them have been mentioned in recent weeks- Dutch Kills and Queens Streets come to mind, but the ones closer to Queens Blvd. haven’t.
What drew me down Orchard Street wasn’t affected by the inquisitive NYPD patrol car which slowly followed this odd looking fellow in a dirty black raincoat who was taking photographs of warehouses, for I was following the amazing pattern of reflected light emanating from the blue glass of the newly constructed Gotham Center. The cops were intensely curious as to my purpose, but not so much that they rolled down a window or got out of the car. Lucky day, thought I, to have a personal bodyguard watching my back while I captured a few shots of the Rosenwasser Bros. facade.
Confession that I had indeed noticed the signage of this facade before must be offered, but for some reason, a conviction that the company had something to do with water tanks had always possessed me. Couldn’t be further from that, it turns out, as the Rosenwassers were magnates in the rag trade.
They started out, like many Jewish garment tycoons, in the shirtwaist business in lower Manhattan. Running what 21st century eyes would process as a sweatshop, they accumulated enough money to set up a large industrial combine in Queens shortly after the opening of the bridge in 1909, and won several military as well as civilian contracts.
By 1913, they were an established and well known Queensican company run by its President- Morris Rosenwasser.
They manufactured baseball cleats sold under Babe Ruth branding in peacetime, and manufactured military footwear and gas masks during war. Also, they supplied the Boy Scouts, and manufactured all sorts of specialty shoes. The large building with the red awning just to the east of the offices isn’t their facility, instead, that was a Steinway Piano plant.
It is presumed that the large parking lot which currently enjoys tenancy on the corner of Jackson between Orchard and Queens Streets was the location of the factory they maintained, which at its height in 1918, employed some 2,500 people.
The Rosenwasser factory, during the first World War, was in possession of several valuable contracts with the Federal Government. The mill turned out an average of 6,000 pairs of shoes a day, 15,000 pairs of leggings, and an undetermined number of canvas gas masks, rucksacks, and other commodities for the war department.
A so called “open shop,” the Rosenwassers were prime movers in a case (Rosenwasser Bros. Inc. v. Pepper et al, NYS Supreme Court October 1918) which defined the rights and limitations of organized labor during wartime for a generation.
It seems that the United Shoe Workers of America, a Boston based trade union, sent an organizer to the Rosenwasser factory to create a new local. Aggressive tactics and a general unwillingness to compromise brought production to a halt, threatening the company with default and failure to deliver on its Federal contracts. After wrangling with the organizer and his masters in New England, Morris Rosenwasser decided to sue.
The resulting case declared that whereas labor has the right to organize and negotiate for better conditions of employment, the essential nature of war production trumped their rights to “go out”, and binding Federal arbitration would be labors only recourse.
It should be mentioned, Lords and Ladies, what the name of that labor organizer from New England was…
Sources list no first name for him, only a surname… which was Gilman. from 1919’s THE MISCELLANEOUS REPORTS OASES DECIDED IN THE COURTS OF RECORD OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK OTHER THAN THE Court of Appeals and the Appellate Division 01 the Supreme Court, courtesy google books
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
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FROM THE SMITHSONIAN AMERICAN ART MUSEUM AND EPHEMERAL NEW YORK
Leonard Pytlak, Uptown, ca. 1939, color lithograph, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Transfer from D.C. Public Library, 1967.72.217
The curious el train in the nocturnal 1930s city
April 5, 2021 From Ephemeral New York
When this lithograph was made by Leonard Pytlak in 1935, Manhattan’s elevated train lines were still screeching and lurching up and down the city’s major avenues.
Already made obsolete by subways and buses and soon to be dismantled, the el trains were noisy pieces of machinery that operated high above sidewalks yet helped transform late 19th century Gotham from a horse-powered town to a mighty metropolis of steel tracks.
But if the trains were emblems of the modern machine age, why is the lone figure crossing the nighttime street below the tracks so much larger than the train itself? And why is the street no wider than an alley? My guess is that Pytlak might be trying to humanize the el train, giving us a Modernist scene of out of proportion shapes with the soft light of Post-Impressionism. There’s also the influence of Ashcan social realism here: a Belgian block city street lined with a hotel and tenements.
Born in 1910, Pytlak was a lithographer who studied at the Art Students League and worked for the New York City WPA Graphics Program from 1934 to 1941, according to the Illinois State Museum. The museum has this strangely alluring lithograph, titled “Uptown,” in its collection.
Tags: Art Students League, Elevated Trains 1930s, Elevated Trains NYC Paintings, Leonard Pytlak, Leonard Pytlak Uptown, New York City 1930s Paintings
Leonard Pytlak, Side Track, n.d., color lithograph, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Transfer from D.C. Public Library, 1967.72.216
Leonard Pytlak, Fall Day, n.d., color lithograph, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Transfer from D.C. Public Library, 1967.72.318
Leonard Pytlak, New for Old, ca. 1939-1940, color lithograph, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Transfer from D.C. Public Library, 1967.72.21
Leonard Pytlak, Dock Wallopers, ca. 1939-1940, color woodcut on paper, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of Audrey McMahon, 1968.98.19
Leonard Pytlak, Back Alley, ca. 1935-1943, lithograph on paper, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of Jean Nichols, 1974.38.57
SOUTHPOINT PARK EAST SIDE LOOKING TOWARD THE SOON TO BE DEDICATED HOPE MEMORIAL (STATUES ARE IN GREEN BOX)
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)
SMITHSONIAN AMERICAN ART MUSEUM EPHEMERAL NEW YORK
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When the original McKim, Mead and White designed Penn Station was demolished in 1963, not all of it was lost. There are many remnants from the 1910 building within the station itself and there is an entire building from the original complex still standing on 31st Street. This structure is what Untapped New York’s Chief Experience Officer Justin Rivers calls Penn Station’s largest remnant, and you can see it from the outside on his Remnants of Penn Station Walking Tour. The granite building at 242 West 31st Street, facing the south side of Madison Square Garden, once served as Penn Station’s coal-fueled power plant. This structure provided a variety of vital services to the station over the years. The photos below, shared to a Penn Station Facebook group, provide a glimpse inside the now-defunct power plant which has been largely abandoned for decades.
Courtesy of the Library of Congress
Much of Penn Station’s infrastructure was once controlled from inside the service plant. According to the New York Times, machines at the 31st Street building generated electricity to power the station, provide heat, light, elevator hydraulics, and refrigeration for the station, and even incinerate garbage. The electricity used to power the trains was generated by a different power plant on the east bank of the East River at Hunter’s Point according to New York’s Pennsylvania Stations by Hilary Ballon. By 1989, the power plant on 31st Street was almost completely obsolete.
The photos in the gallery at the bottom of this article were taken in 1998 and in 2018. They reveal various corridors and rooms throughout the building filled with filing cabinets, electronics, and a giant control board showing Penn Station’s tracks and connecting subway lines. Many parts of the building are unsafe to visit due to asbestos and other containments that have resulted from years of decay.
The Penn Station power plant was constructed before the station itself. Penn Station opened in 1910 but the service building was complete by 1908. Designed by Charles McKim and William Symmes Richardson, the building features a granite facade quarried from Stony Creek Quarry in Connecticut according to Christopher Gray. A row of Doric pilasters give it a classical style, though much more subdued than the neighboring station. Two smokestacks once rose from the top of the building, but those no longer exist.
The fate of the Service Building is unknown at this time. Though it was spared during Penn Station’s demolition, it is not a New York City Landmark. As of 2003, the New York Times reported the building was still used for “storage and backup systems.” In Governor Cuomo’s proposed Empire Station Complex plan, the power plant, along with other buildings on the block bounded by 7th and 8th Avenues and 31st and 30th Streets would be demolished to make way for a new terminal building and eight additional train tracks. The plan also endangers the historic Capuchin Monastery of the Church of St. John which sits on the block. The opening of Moynihan Train Hall and renovations to Penn Station have brought many changes to the transit hub already. Future plans will determine if the power plant survives or joins the original Penn Station on New York City’s list of lost structures.
AVAC TRASH COMPACTING SYSTEM ON ROOSEVELT ISLAND GLORIA HERMAN GOT IT!
OM JAY JACOBSON, A LOYAL READER
Thanks for reminding us to celebrate the first anniversary of RIHS ! A very lively source of information about many topics that I hadn’t realized were of interest to me.
Sources
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)
UNTAPPED NYC
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IS NOW A NURSING HOME ON STATEN ISLAND. SEAVIEW HAS A LONG HISTORY AS A FARM COLONY, HOSPITAL AND HISTORIC SITE
Sometime I think our island has had a vast history. The Staten Island Farm Colony and Seaview Hospital, also municipal institutions have a great place in medical and research history. Long forgotten and abandoned many parts of this campus have been left to history, Today, Seaview is a long term care home and rehabilitation facility. Parts of the campus have new housing for seniors, while this vast campus in the middle of Staten Island is a treasury of the forgotten.
The New York City Farm Colony was a poorhouse on the New York City borough of Staten Island, one of the city’s five boroughs. It was located across Brielle Avenue from Seaview Hospital, on the edge of the Staten Island Greenbelt.
Part of the town of Castleton from the 1680s onward, the land was taken over by the government of Richmond County in 1829 and the Richmond County Poor Farm was established thereon. When Staten Island became a borough of New York City in 1898, the city assumed responsibility for the property and redesignated it the New York City Farm Colony, although it was sometimes also referred to as the Staten Island Farm Colony. In 1915, its administration was merged with that of Seaview Hospital, which had been set up with the expressed purpose of treating tuberculosis (it is now a city-run nursing home, under the new name of Sea View Farms).[1]
Jurisdiction over the site was transferred in 1924 to the city’s Homes for Dependents agency, which lifted the requirement that all residents of the colony had to work — with most of the work involving the cultivation of many varieties of fruits and vegetables, and at various times even grains such as wheat and corn; these crops fed not only the colony’s residents but met the needs of other city institutions as well.[1]
The abandoned tuberculosis hospital that is styled architecturally similar to Triboro in Queens and Riverside on North Brother Island. All were built in the 1930’s.
On a remote hilltop in Staten Island, New York City is preparing for battle in the fight against one of the nation’s most deadly diseases…again.
A hundred years ago at the height of the tuberculosis epidemic, New York City’s planners and public health establishment mobilized to develop what the New York Times called “…the largest and finest hospital ever built” for tuberculosis. Operating in the absence of any known cure for the disease, the Sea View Tuberculosis Hospital’s medical facilities were, in a real sense, speculative and aspirational. Tuberculosis (TB) had topped the list of causes of death in New York City for decades, and the call to action was urgent.
Sea View Patient Pavilion with Balconies, NYC Dept. of Records.
For the next 40 years, research and medical treatment were conducted alongside the general care of tuberculosis patients at Sea View. Fresh air, sunshine, and a nutritious diet – all known at the time to have therapeutic effects on TB patients – were woven into the hospital’s design and provided patients with relief and, on occasion, recovery.
Indeed, until a cure was discovered, Sea View’s most therapeutic agents may well have been its location, site planning, and design. Archival photos of onsite vegetable gardens, hiking trails, patient pavilions with balconies, and social gathering spaces all read like an early manual for what planners today call “Active Design” and presaged the 21st-century distillation of core Healthy Community goals: physical activity, fresh local food, access to nature, and sociability. Then, in the early 1950s, doctors at Sea View began clinical trials of hydrazides. That drug famously led to the widespread cure of the disease, and is now part of Sea View’s public health legacy.
Architects of the Seaview Hospital Complex: Renwick, Aspinwall & Owen and that firm’s successor-Renwick, Aspinwall & Tucker, Raymond F. Almirall and Charles B. Meyer.
Many structures on the Seaview campus are abandoned and you can catch a glimpse of the Delft tile ceramic tiles on the exterior.
THOSE WHO TENDED TO THE PATIENTS AT SEAVIEW
Black Angels Nurses at Sea View Hospital Honored in New Mural
from Untapped New York
Just in time for Black History Month, a new mural has just been unveiled at Staten Island’s Sea View Hospital. “The Spirit of Sea View” by Yana Dimitrova, depicts the hospital’s deep history dedicated to serving the most vulnerable populations of New York, including the role of the Black Angels. The project was completed under New York City Health + Hospitals Community Murals Project in partnership with the Laurie M. Tisch Illumination Fund and is located in the E. Robitzek Building at Sea View. It consists of four panels, each highlighting significant individuals and events of Sea View’s past. In the mural, you’ll see a reference to the Delft terra cotta panels that were salvaged from the abandoned tuberculosis buildings in the hospital.
The first panel highlights Sea View’s beginnings as a part of the New York City Farm Colony. Founded in 1829 as the Richmond County Poor Farm, it welcomed the poor, mentally ill, criminals, and other outcasts of the time. In exchange for a place to stay, people were given work on the farm and in various shops that specialized in skills such as carpentry, print, and tailoring. Seaview Hospital was built as a tuberculosis sanatorium right by the Staten Island farm colony, and the two later merged in 1915, forming Seaview Farms. Combining the farm colony and the hospital enabled both institutions to maximize each others’ resources and services.
Panel ones depicts individuals involved in manual labor such as farming and construction. Photo by Michael Paras.
Called Black Angels by their parents, around 300 of African American nurses came to Seaview from across the country between 1928 to 1960 to help patients fight tuberculosis. Although many white nurses left Seaview during the height of the pandemic, Black nurses fearlessly and heroically served patients at the risk of their own lives. Their story will also be the subject of a forthcoming book from Oprah Books by Mara Smilios, The Black Angels: The Untold Story of the Nurses Who Helped Cure Tuberculosis.
Panel three continues the narrative of Seaview’s integral role in the tuberculosis pandemic. In it, Dr. Edward H. Robitzek, who discovered a cure for tuberculosis, has provided the mediation to a patient who is celebrating her recovery. Before, the only recommendations doctors could recommend for tuberculosis patients were ample sunlight, fresh air, and a good diet. However, Dr. Robitzek’s discovery of the effectiveness of the drug isoniazid led to drastic recoveries in patients who were likely to die from the disease. Alongside the Black Angels, Dr. Robitzek is portrayed as another commendable hero of Seaview’s history
The final panel reflects the present. Although for many years Sea View’s buildings were abandoned and forgotten, they have been revived and transformed into a rehabilitation center, nursing home, and a volunteer fire company as a part of The New York City Economic Development Corp’s efforts to create a Wellness Community. In the mural, the patient is the portrait of Miss Marquita, an actual patient of Sea View, in the greenhouse of the hospital. The four panels reflect the rich history of a hospital that has created opportunities for the poor, served tuberculosis patients with the help of Black Angels, and helped instigate a cure for tuberculosis patients.
The Wrigley Building in Chicago T.W. Visee, Andy Sparberg got it!
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 NEW YORK HEALTH + HOSPITALS UNTAPPED NEW YORK NYC MUNICIPAL ARCHIVES
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Carroll Beckwith, Bassin de Neptune, Versailles, 1913, oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Transfer from Cooper-Hewitt Museum of Decorative Arts and Design, Smithsonian Institution, 1974.69.18
James Carroll Beckwith painted this scene of the Neptune Fountain during one of several trips he made to Versailles. There was a movement at the time to restore the grandeur of the French palace, which may have inspired Beckwith to paint scenes of the gardens there. (Franchi and Weber, Intimate Revelations: The Art of Carroll Beckwith (1852−1917), 1999) In this painting, Beckwith captured the splendor of Versailles at the height of midsummer in the watery reflection of the trees and green knolls, and the yellow light that dances on the surface of the classical statues.
“[I] am now thinking of Versailles and wondering if I cannot paint something there in the park that would be interesting.” Carroll Beckwith, 1911, quoted in Franchi and Weber, Intimate Revelations: The Art of Carroll Beckwith (1852−1917), 1999
H. Lyman Saÿen, In the Luxembourg Gardens, 1910-1912, oil on wood, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of H. Lyman Sayen to his Nation, 1968.19.9
John Hultberg, Sculptor’s Garden, 1968, oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. David K. Anderson, Martha Jackson Memorial Collection, 1980.137.46
John Hultberg’s paintings of imaginary environments often show strange groups of art objects and old artifacts. In Sculptor’s Garden, he included paintings, easels, and other tools to suggest artists working out-of-doors. But there are no people in the image and the works on the easels appear unfinished, as if whoever was working here had to leave suddenly; the threatening clouds and desolate landscape in the distance emphasize this sense of abandonment. Hultberg wanted to infuse his landscapes with uncertainty and ambiguity, and once wrote that “I rejoice that I find in painting a way to create my own earth.” (Jacks, John Hultberg: Painter of the In-Between, 1985)
Carroll Beckwith, In the Gardens of the Villa Palmieri, 1910, oil on wood, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Transfer from Cooper-Hewitt Museum of Decorative Arts and Design, Smithsonian Institution, 1974.69.14
Carroll Beckwith traveled to Rome in 1910 and also visited Florence, where he painted this scene. The Villa Palmieri is a garden outside of Florence that was built in the 1870s for an English earl. In the foreground of this painting is a large stone well with an iron frame and a copper bucket hanging from a pulley; in the background are two gateposts topped with classical urns. Painting and sculpture from the past inspired Beckwith, who disliked the modern trends in art. (Franchi and Weber, Intimate Revelations: The Art of Carroll Beckwith (1852−1917), 1999)
Jozef Pielage, Garden, 1969, oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of Jozef Pielage and Betty Huse Pielage, 1978.150
James McNeill Whistler, Valparaiso Harbor, 1866, oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of John Gellatly, 1929.6.159
H. Lyman Saÿen, Garden, ca. 1915, oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of H. Lyman Sayen to his nation, 1967.6.10
Childe Hassam, In the Garden (Celia Thaxter in Her Garden), 1892, oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of John Gellatly, 1929.6.52
Alice Pike Barney, Little Gardener, 1927, pastel on fiberboard, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of Laura Dreyfus Barney and Natalie Clifford Barney in memory of their mother, Alice Pike Barney, 1966.111.9
Morton Kaish, The Garden, Glenveagh, 1978, oil and acrylic? on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of Mrs. Eloise Spaeth, 1983.98
Sarah P. Wells, Woman in a Garden, 19th century, brush and colored ink and pen and colored ink on paper, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of Herbert Waide Hemphill, Jr. and museum purchase made possible by Ralph Cross Johnson, 1986.65.219
Margaret Jordan Patterson, Garden Flowers, ca. 1920, color woodcut on paper, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of Luke Gwilliam, 1979.67.1
Edna Boies Hopkins, Garden Flowers, ca. 1915, color woodcut on paper, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Museum purchase, 1980.77
As mentioned in yesterday’s story on Roosevelt, this is the only house of worship in Roosevelt, NJ Congregation Anshei
Letter to the Editor
Hi Judy– Thanks for the wonderful virtual tour last night with Beth Goffe. Stephen & I thoroughly enjoyed her dishy stories & great sense of humor! I sent her an email this morning thanking her….. All the best– Thom
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff All image are copyrighted (c)
SMITHSONIAN AMERICAN ART MUSEUM (c)
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