Through the ups and downs of nearly 100 years, Coney Island’s boardwalk has been the beachfront spot for untold millions to stroll, catch some sun, meet friends, munch hot dogs, or just look out at the water. And, like all big new projects in New York City, bringing the boardwalk to life hit snags and was kicked around as a political football while its cost went up and work moved more slowly than expected.
Boardwalk, Coney Island, general view looking east from Municipal Bath, July 7, 1922. Photographer: Edward E. Rutter. Borough President Brooklyn Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.
The first serious talk of building a public boardwalk came in the 1890s, when Coney Island was transitioning from a private playground for the rich – with giant fences preventing public access to the beach – to a place of fun, leisure and a little weirdness for all.
The Municipal Archives holds some 200 pictures of what was originally known as the Coney Island Boardwalk, including dozens of the construction in 1922 and 1923. Newspapers of the day, especially the old Brooklyn Daily Eagle, tell the story.
Boardwalk, Coney Island, general view, looking west from Martino’s Bath, July 7, 1922. Photographer: Edward E. Rutter. Borough President Brooklyn Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.
While the idea of a public boardwalk was debated for years, planning didn’t begin in earnest until August of 1912. The West End Improvement League, consisting of merchants and developers, launched a campaign to build the promenade, starting a local newspaper and mailing 12,000 postcards to politicians, business owners and influencers. Although there was strong public support locally, landowners along beachfront area fought the proposal bitterly and tried to find friendly lawmakers to stop it.
On October 24, 1912, the Eagle reported on the first legal salvo in the war to build a boardwalk: “State Sues to Win Back Coney Island Beach for the People,” the headline screamed. “Demands Removal of Obstructions Preventing Free Passage for Purposes of Bathing, Boating and Fishing.” The story reported that State Attorney General Thomas Carmody had filed suit against the owners of the Steeplechase Company and other landowners, claiming the beach belongs to the public and branding the fencing and barriers “a public nuisance.”
Boardwalk, Coney Island, general view showing pouring of a reinforced concrete girder, July 7, 1922. Photographer: Edward E. Rutter. Borough President Brooklyn Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.
A lawyer for the owners, claimed they had a legal right to the beachfront land and said, “…we certainly intend to fight the state’s claim to the finish.” The “finish” came rather quickly: A judge upheld the state’s claim in 1913 and the Court of Appeals affirmed it in 1916.
Political wrangling in the State Legislature delayed progress for several years, but on August 22, 1920, The Brooklyn Eagle optimistically reported: “Coney Island Boardwalk to be Completed by 1921.” Brooklyn Borough President Edward Riegelmann, an “energetic booster” of the plan had laid out details earlier that month.
Boardwalk, Coney Island, general view, looking west from Municipal Bath, August 4, 1922. Photographer: Edward E. Rutter. Borough President Brooklyn Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.
Riegelmann, who some dubbed the “Father of the Boardwalk,” said it would be 80 feet wide and two miles long running from Ocean Parkway to Sea Gate. He estimated the boardwalk would be built at a cost of $4 million (more than $50 million today). It would use 1.7 million cubic yards of sand, 110,000 tons of stone, and 7,700 cubic yards of reinforced concrete. Workers would build 16 rock jetties spaced 600 feet apart to protect the boardwalk from violent waves, while others drove 28-foot-long piles 19 feet deep into the sand. But the political wrangling continued even before the first shovel hit the ground. On Jan 6, 1921, the Eagle reported that the plan had hit “a $7 million snag,” the amount the owners claimed they would lose in property values – perhaps the first sign that the boardwalk would not be completed in 1921.
Boardwalk, Coney Island general view, looking east from Martino’s Bath, August 4, 1922. Photographer: Edward E. Rutter. Borough President Brooklyn Collection. NYC Municipal Archives
Five months later, a fight erupted over whether to use timber or concrete for boardwalk supports. Advocates for the use of concrete argued that wood would not be “permanent” and would have to be replaced or shored up from time-to-time. Wood supporters argued that concrete was much more expensive than creosoted timber and noted that wooden trestles under the LIRR’s Jamaica route were still in good condition after many years and that the first concrete-supported Santa Monica Pier had “gone to pieces” in just a few years. Concrete won the day.
Undeterred by the delays, a long story in the July 3, 1921 edition of the Brooklyn Eagle breathlessly – though erroneously – reported: “Coney Island is to Replace Atlantic City as Society’s Playground, is Prediction.” The story began: “If the prediction of the Coney Island Boardwalk enthusiasts should be verified in the not distant future, the sad waves will murmur ‘Good night’ to Atlantic City and gently rock that out-of-date seaside resort to sleep … Good-bye hot dog; Good-bye chamber of horrors; Good-bye museums of monstrosities …”
Boardwalk, Coney Island hauling floor beams to the top of the walk by tractor, August 4, 1922. Photographer: Edward E. Rutter. Borough President Brooklyn Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.
Boardwalk construction finally began in 1922, with wooden planks in a chevron pattern atop the concrete and steel bearings. The first section, from Ocean Parkway to West 5th Street, opened to the public in October 1922. The second section, from West 5th Street to West 17th Street, opened with pomp and a ribbon-cutting on Christmas Eve of 1922 attended by Borough President Reigelmann and thousands of celebrants.
Boardwalk, Coney Island, Borough President Riegelmann opening the Boardwalk between West 5th and West, December 24, 1922. Photographer: Edward E. Rutter. Borough President Brooklyn Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.
The city held a formal opening of the entire boardwalk – which was re-named the Riegelmann Boardwalk – in May 1923. Some mildly amusing controversy continued: In June 1923, the Eagle reported that 25 people plead guilty and were fined $25 each for violating a public ordinance by strolling along “only in their bathing suits.” And that August, there were complaints that mothers were bringing their children to benches on the boardwalk to eat, leaving food scraps and refuse on the boardwalk – and that amorous couples were “spooning” on the benches.
Boardwalk, Coney Island, looking northeast from Boardwalk, near West 12th Street, showing present character of buildings, September 6, 1922. Photographer: Edward E. Rutter. Borough President Brooklyn Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.
The boardwalk would be repaired many times over the years and, in 1938, under City Parks Commissioner Robert Moses, parts of it were expanded, straightened, and relocated 300 feet inland. He tried to expand it again into Manhattan Beach, but that plan was defeated.
The city declared the Riegelmann Boardwalk a landmark in 2018.
I received a call this afternoon from a NYPD Detective that the Goldwater lamps had been recovered. Apparently the scrap dealer who acquired them from the perpretrator who sold them to an antique collector/dealer who immediately recognized their value and history.
They are now secured with the dealer and insurance, a permanent home and use for them will have to be determined. This will probably take a long while.
I am thrilled that all of this came together and there will be future, though not what had ever been thought.
The condition they are in is shocking and we must imagine what can be done with them to bring them back to a useful purpose.
Thanks to NYPD, Coler Hospital Police, the un-named scrapyard dealer and Evan Blum for recovering the lamps.
Judith Berdy
FROM 1939 TO 2013 THIS WAS THE VIEW OF ONE OF THE LAMPS
AFTER RECOVERY All the glass lenses were broken out of the lamps Demolition Depot and Irreplaceable Artifacts
This base is intact Demolition Depot and Irreplaceable Artifacts
The lamps were just thrown in a truck, junk to some, artifacts to us. Demolition Depot and Irreplaceable Artifacts
The dealer who has the lamps tells me that they can be restored.. Part of the finial is visible on the floor. Demolition Depot and Irreplaceable Artifacts
The base plate from one lamp.
Demolition Depot and Irreplaceable Artifacts
THE GOLDWATER LAMPS
FROM 1939 TO 2013 SIX BRONZE LAMPS GRACED THE ENTRANCE TO GOLDWATER.
THE FULLY FUNCTIONED UNTIL THE DAY THEY WERE DISCONNECTED,
ON A GRACEFUL PLYMTH THE LAMPS WERE IMPRESSIVE
TYPICAL OF PUBLIC ARCHITECTURE, GOLDWATER WAS THE BENEFIT OF WPA ARCHITECTURE AND DESIGN
THE MOVE NORTH
AFTER THE CLOSING OF GOLDWATER THE SIX LAMPS WERE STORED IN THE BACK YARD OF COLER. FROM WHEN I STARTED WORKING AS A VOLUNTEER AT COLER, I TRIED TO HAVE ADMINISTRATION, CLEAN UP AREA, FIND A NEW HOME AND PROTECT THE LAMPS. ONE LAMP WAS ALREADY BROKEN AND THE OTHERS JUST SAT IN SEMI-OPEN VIEW.
ON DECEMBER 26TH, FOUR WERE HAULED OFF. A TRUCK ARRIVED AND IN 20 MINUTES THE LAMPS WERE GONE. A POLICE REPORT HAS BEEN FILED, BUT SURELY THESE VALUABLE LAMPS WERE AT A SCRAP DEALER THE NEXT DAY. ONE LAMP AND ONE BROKEN ONE REMAIN.
MAYBE WE WILL RESCUE THE BROKEN LAMP AND PLACE IT NEXT TO OUR OTHER ARTIFACTS BY THE KIOSK.
This is probably one of the most heartbreaking episodes in my years on the island. To see valuable historic artifacts being stolen, destroyed, ignored by so many is tragic.
What of our history be gone next? What landmark will be ignored? What building or site will not be maintained? Look around and see how our treasures are being ignored (start at the Chapel bell). Maybe 2024 will wake up RIOC and others to our fragile history.
Judith Berdy
Life Jacket Theatre Company | THE GORGEOUS
NOTHINGS
MON.FEBRUARY 12 AT 7PM
Venue: The Theater at New York Live Arts
LAST YEAR I ATTENDED A READING OF THIS DRAMA ABOUT THE GAY PRISONERS WHO WERE INCARCERATED AT THE PENITENTIARY ON WELFARE ISLAND. THIS PRODUCTION IS BASED ON TRUE STORIES, FIRST HAND ACCOUNTS, ARCHIVAL RESEARCH AND TELLS STORIES OF THOSE WHO WERE ON OUR ISLAND IN THE 1930’S.
WEDNESDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY
VIEW OF THE WORKHOUSE, LOCATED WHERE 2-4 RIVER ROAD NOW STANDS
CREDITS
ROOSEVELT ISLAND HISTORICAL SOCIETY ARCHIVES Demolition Depot and Irreplaceable Artifacts EVAN BLUM JUDITH BERDY
MAYA LEVANON-PHOTOS TIK TOK & INSTAGRAM
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
For the Record readers may have observed articles are frequently illustrated with images copied from Valentine’s Manuals. Published annually between 1841 and 1870 (except 1867), and formally titled, Manuals of the Corporation of the City of New York, these volumes are a familiar source for information about municipal government, and particularly, graphic depictions of “old New York.”
Less well known is the related volume titled A General Index to The Manuals of the Corporation of the City of New York 1841-1870. First published in 1900 and 1906, and reprinted in 1981, the Index not only lists (and indexes) all of the plates, maps, plans, and facsimile letters and documents, and their locations, in the Manuals, but also includes an introduction with biographical information about the Manual compiler, David T. Valentine. The Municipal Library holds both the Index and copies of the Manuals.
Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1864, NYC Municipal Library.
Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1859, NYC Municipal Library.
David Thomas Valentine, “our city’s chronicler,” as he was described in the Index introduction, was born in Eastchester (present-day North Bronx/Westchester County) on September 15, 1801. He became the Marine Court clerk in 1826. In 1830, the Common Council appointed him as Deputy Clerk. In 1845, he became Chief Clerk of the Council.
Broad Way from the Bowling Green, 1828, Lithograph, Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1854, NYC Municipal Library
What immediately stands out in reading the introduction and biographical information about Valentine, is his role in preserving the city’s historical records. The Index quotes from a letter Valentine wrote in 1867 concerning the original Dutch records of the City: “They were not very attentively cared for, having been without readers for probably a century and more. No attempt had been made to translate them; and of the history of New Amsterdam . . . was not supposed to lie hidden in these dusty, unbound and forbidding volumes.”
Fulton Ferry, New York, 1853, Lithograph, Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1864, NYC Municipal Library.
The impetus for publication of the Manuals is stated in the preface of the first (1841/42) volume: “It having been thought expedient to enlarge the substance of the City Hall Directory, as heretofore annually published, by the introduction of additional matter interesting and useful to members of the Corporation and others connected with them, the contents and form of this volume have been selected as most useful and convenient for reference.”
Thanks to Valentine, described as “a man of antiquarian tastes and imbued with civic love and pride,” and “who possessed the patience and perseverance to dig and delve among these dingy records of the past” the Manuals are much, much more than simple directories.
Nursery Establishment, Randall’s Island, Lithograph, Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1849, NYC Municipal Library.
The first two volumes, 1841-42, and 1842-43, contain predictable information, e.g. the names of all officials, standing committees of the Board of Aldermen and Assistant Aldermen, the Board of Supervisors, Board of Health, courts, etc. There is also helpful information about ferry schedules, hackney coach rates, the value of real and personal property in the city, and other data.
Central Park, The Terrace, Lithograph, Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1864, NYC Municipal Library.
Beginning with the third volume, 1844-45, however, Valentine began inserting historical data, extracts from old newspapers, transcripts of early records, as well as lithographed illustrations. In the preface to the 1845/46 Manual, Valentine wrote“…in the selection of materials the Compiler flatters himself that he has bestowed unusual care, and has diligently explored the civic records and annals of our Municipal Government from the earliest period, he fully believes that he has rescued many facts and interesting documents from oblivion, to which they were hastening down the stream of time.”
Brooks Clothing Store, Catharine St., NY, 1845, Lithograph, Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1864, NYC Municipal Library.
As described in the Index, Valentine “appears to have unearthed nearly every painting, print, drawing and map of important that bears any relation to our city, from the earliest settlement of the Island of Manhattan” and inserted good quality lithographed copies in the Manuals.
View of the Quarantine Grounds and Buildings, Staten Island, May 1858, Lithograph, Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1859, NYC Municipal Library.
The preface to the Manual of 1856 further explains Valentine’s intention to “present an epitome of our early history.” Valentine wrote that “the present rapid progress of the City which promises soon to obliterate all the natural landmarks of the island,” led him to support the “preservation of views of such localities as now present noticeable features in the natural formation of the island, of old dwellings, farmhouses, country-seats, etc. as well as of the more prominent buildings, private and public, which denote the present fashions of architecture.”
Map of the City of New York, Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1852, NYC Municipal Library.
The 1866 volume was the last prepared by Valentine; no manual was issued in 1867. Valentine’s successor to the clerkship, Joseph Shannon, prepared the volumes for 1868 and 1869. The last volume, 1870, was produced by Shannon’s successor John Hardy.
Old Jail, City Hall Park, Lithograph, Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1849, NYC Municipal Library.
David Valentine retired as Clerk in January 1868. He died in Manhattan on February 25, 1869. The Index introduction notes that in 1851 the Common Council appropriated five hundred dollars to purchase a portrait of Mr. Valentine “in recognition of his long and faithful services.” It was painted by C. W. Jarvis, “an artist of some ability,” according to the Index.
David T. Valentine, Portrait, Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1859, NYC Municipal Library.
When the City began publishing the Official Directory of the City of New York (a.k.a. the Green Book), in 1918, the introduction stated “The need of a comprehensive directory of City Departments has long been recognized, but it has remained for the present administration to issue the first edition.” Further research might explain the more than forty-year interruption. However, basic information about New York City municipal government did appear in privately-published directories of City residents (Longworth’s Trow’s, etc.) through the 1930s and subsequently in telephone directories.
Long recognized for their historical and graphic value, Valentine’s Manuals of the Corporation of the City of New York “are indeed a mine of wealth to every one interested in the history of this great city.”
Among the rock-star personas of the Roaring Twenties were a number of aviators who captured the public’s imagination. Some were as popular and beloved as movie stars and famous athletes, and America followed their every move.
It was a time of “firsts” in the world of aviation, led by names like Charles Lindbergh, Richard Byrd, and Wiley Post. Among their number was an unusually humble man, Floyd Bennett. He may have been the best of the lot.
A Northern New York native and legendary pilot, Bennett has been claimed at times by three different villages as their own.
He was born in October 1890 at the southern end of Lake George in Caldwell (which today is Lake George village). Most of his youth was spent living on the farm of his aunt and uncle in nearby Warrensburg.
He also worked for three years in Ticonderoga, at the northern end of Lake George, where he made many friends. Throughout his life, Floyd maintained ties to all three villages.
In the early 1900s, cars and gasoline-powered engines represented the latest technology. Floyd’s strong interest led him to automobile school, after which he toiled as a mechanic in Ticonderoga for three years. When the United States entered the First World War, Bennett, then 27, enlisted in the U.S. Navy.
While becoming an aviation mechanic, Floyd discovered his aptitude for the pilot’s seat. He attended flight school in Pensacola, Florida, where one of his classmates was Richard E. Byrd, future legendary explorer. For several years, Bennett refined his flying skills, and in 1925, he was selected for duty in Greenland under then Lieutenant Byrd.
Fraught with danger and the unknown, the mission sought to learn more about the vast unexplored area of the Arctic Circle. Bennett’s knowledge and hard work were critical to the success of the mission, and, as Byrd would later confirm, the pair almost certainly would have died but for Bennett’s bravery in a moment of crisis.
While flying over extremely rough territory, the plane’s oil gauge suddenly climbed. Had the pressure risen unchecked, an explosion was almost certain. Byrd looked at Bennett, seeking a course of action, and both then turned their attention to the terrain below.
Within seconds, reality set in — there was no possibility of landing. With that, Bennett climbed out onto the plane’s wing in frigid conditions and loosened the oil cap, relieving the pressure. He suffered frostbite in the process, but left no doubt in Byrd’s mind that, in selecting Bennett, he had made the right choice.
The two men became fast friends, and when the intrepid Byrd planned a historic flight to the North Pole, Bennett was asked to serve as both pilot and mechanic on the Josephine Ford. (Edsel Ford provided financial backing for the effort, and the plane was named after his daughter.)
In 1926, Byrd and Bennett attained legendary status by completing the mission despite bad luck and perilous conditions. The flight rocketed them to superstardom.
Lauded as national heroes, they were suddenly in great demand, beginning with a ticker-tape parade in New York City. Byrd enjoyed the limelight, but also heaped praise on the unassuming Bennett, assuring all that the attempt would never have been made without his trusted partner.
When Bennett visited Lake George, more than two thousand supporters gathered in the tiny village to welcome him. As part of the ceremony, letters of praise from Governor Al Smith and President Calvin Coolidge were read to the crowd.
Both men were awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, the highest award for any member of the armed services, and rarely bestowed for non-military accomplishments.
They were also honored with gold medals from the National Geographic Society. Despite all the attention and lavish praise, Bennett remained unchanged, to the surprise of no one.
Return to Home
The next challenge for the team of Bennett and Byrd was the first transatlantic flight from New York to Paris, a trip they prepared for eagerly. But in a training crash, both men were hurt.
Bennett’s injuries were serious, and before the pair could recover and continue the pursuit of their goal, Charles Lindbergh accomplished the historic feat. Once healed, the duo completed the flight to Europe six weeks later.
Seeking new horizons to conquer, aviation’s most famous team planned an expedition to the South Pole. Tremendous preparation was required, including testing of innovative equipment.
On March 13, 1928, a curious crowd gathered on the shores of Lake Champlain near Ticonderoga. Airplanes were still a novelty then, and two craft were seen circling overhead. Finally, one of them put down on the slushy, ice-covered lake surface, skiing to a halt.
Out came local hero Floyd Bennett, quickly engulfed by a crowd of friends and well-wishers. While in Staten Island preparing for the South Pole flight, he needed to test new skis for landing capabilities in the snow. What better place to do it than among friends?
After performing several test landings on Lake Champlain, Bennett stayed overnight in Ticonderoga. Whether at the Elks Club, a restaurant, or a local hotel, he and his companions were invariably treated like royalty. Bennett repeatedly expressed his thanks and appreciation for such a warm welcome.
A month later, while making further preparations for the next adventure, Floyd Bennett became ill with what was believed to be a cold. When word arrived that help was urgently needed on a rescue mission, the response was predictable.
Ignoring his own health, Bennett immediately went to the assistance of a German and Irish team that had crossed the Atlantic Ocean but crashed their craft, the Bremen, on Greenly Island north of Newfoundland, Canada.
During the mission, Floyd developed a high fever but still tried to continue the rescue effort. His condition worsened, requiring hospitalization in Quebec City, where doctors found he was gravely ill with pneumonia.
Richard Byrd and Floyd’s wife, Cora, who was also ill, flew north to be with him. Despite the best efforts of physicians, Bennett, just 38 years old, succumbed on April 25, 1928, barely a month after his uplifting visit to Ticonderoga.
Though Bennett died, the rescue mission he had begun proved successful. Across Canada, Germany, Ireland, and the United States, headlines mourned the loss of a hero who had given his life while trying to save others. Explorers, adventurers, and aviators praised Bennett as a man of grace, intelligence, bravery, and unfailing integrity.
Floyd Bennett was already considered a hero long before the rescue attempt. The selflessness he displayed further enhanced his image, and as the nation mourned, his greatness was honored with a heavily attended military funeral in Washington, followed by burial in Arlington National Cemetery. Among the pile of wreaths on his grave was one from President and Mrs. Coolidge.
After the loss of his partner and friend, Richard Byrd’s craft for the ultimately successful flight to the South Pole was a tri-motor Ford renamed the Floyd Bennett. Both the man and the plane of the same name are an important part of American aviation history.
It was eventually calculated that the earlier flight to the North Pole may not have reached its destination, but the news did nothing to diminish Byrd and Bennett’s achievements.
They received many honors for their spectacular adventures. On June 26, 1930, a dedication ceremony was held in Brooklyn for New York City’s first-ever municipal airport, Floyd Bennett Field. It was regarded at the time as America’s finest airfield.
Many historic flights originated or ended at Floyd Bennett Field, including trips by such notables as Howard Hughes, Jimmy Doolittle, Wiley Post, Douglas “Wrongway” Corrigan, and Amelia Earhart.
It was also the busiest airfield in the United States during World War Two, vital to the Allied victory.
Floyd Bennett Field is now protected by the National Park Service as part of the Gateway National Recreation Area.
The beloved Bennett has been honored several times since. In the 1940s, a Navy Destroyer, the USS Bennett, was named in honor of his legacy as a flight pioneer.
In the village of Warrensburg, New York, a memorial bandstand was erected in his honor and 16 miles southeast of Warrensburg, just north of Glens Falls, is Warren County’s Floyd Bennett Memorial Airport.
In a speech made after the North Pole flight, Richard Byrd said, “I would rather have had Floyd Bennett with me than any man I know of.”
Illustrations, from above: The Byrd Arctic Expedition Fokker F.VII-3m at Spitzbergen, Svalbard, May 9, 1927 (Ohio State University Archives); Secretary of the Navy Curtis Dwight Wilbur, Commander Richard Evelyn Byrd, Jr, President Calvin Coolidge, Warrant Officer Floyd Bennett (right, receiving award) and Admiral Edward Walter Eberle when Coolidge awarded the Medal of Honor to Byrd and Bennett on March 5, 1927; and Floyd Bennett Field, New York City’s first municipal airport.
NEW YORK ALMANACK LAWRENCE P. GOOLEY
JUDITH BERDY
MAYA LEVANON-PHOTOS TIK TOK & INSTAGRAM
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
Dedicated in 1906, this fountain serves as a reminder of those who died aboard the excursion steamer General Slocum on June 15, 1904. Prior to September 11, 2001, the burning of the General Slocum had the highest death toll of any disaster in New York City history. The incident claimed an irreplaceable part of the Lower East Side community once known as Little Germany and remains the worst inland-waters, peacetime tragedy in the nation’s history.
Ed Litcher
CREDITS
ROOSEVELT ISLAND HISTORICAL SOCIETY ARCHIVES JUDITH BERDY
MAYA LEVANON-PHOTOS TIK TOK & INSTAGRAM
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
IN THE EVER-CHANGING CITY OF New York, old buildings are constantly torn down to make room for newer projects. But thankfully, not all the beautiful features of these lost buildings are gone for good.
Some of the luckier statues, sculptures, and ornamental features wound up at the Steinberg Sculpture Garden at the Brooklyn Museum. Collected and curated by the great New York historian and former photography curator Barbara Head Millstein, all of these gorgeously carved works of art were salvaged from demolished buildings.
Standing among the sculptures is like looking at fragments of the city’s architectural past. More than 40 pieces, including urns, keystones, columns, and sculptures, fill the garden. Most of them were created during the late 1800s and early 1900s by anonymous stonemasons.
The pieces demonstrate a variety of styles, motifs, and materials including marble, brownstone, cast-iron, and terracotta. Some of the pieces were from buildings designed by famed architects like Louis Sullivan; McKim, Mead & White; Irwin S. Chanin; and Gutzon Borglum.
A particular highlight is a sculpture that once stood near one of the clocks outside the original Penn Station. The intricately carved work, which depicts the hooded figure of Night clutching poppies, was rescued from a landfill in New Jersey. You can also find majestic Pegasus statues that once guarded the entrance to a Coney Island fire station, an early 20th-century miniature replica of the Statue of Liberty, and stoic Atlas-inspired statues that previously stood outside a wealthy paper manufacturer’s home. Look down, and you’ll also notice moss-covered figures scattered about the ground.
Know Before You Go
The Sculpture Garden is located within the Brooklyn Museum and is free with museum admission. Closed Monday and Tuesday.
At the apex of the triangle defining the north end of Times Square, the massive statue of Father Francis Patrick Duffy (1871-1932) by Charles Keck (1875-1951) has stood sentinel since it was unveiled May 2, 1937.
The eight-foot high statue depicts Fr. Francis P. Duffy (1871-1932), the most highly decorated cleric in the history of the United States Army, standing on a pedestal, with a massive Celtic cross at his back. In fact, this triangular section of Times Square is more properly known as Father Duffy Square.
The Canadian-born priest served as a military chaplain during the Spanish American War, and later as pastor of Our Savior parish in the Bronx when he was called up to serve as chaplain of the 69th Infantry Regiment of the New York National Guard in 1914.
The “Fighting 69th,” which was made up of mostly Irish Americans, was called to duty in 1917 during World War I. Sent to the front in France, over the course of 180 days in combat, 900 of its men were killed. Their story was immortalized in the 1940 movie The Fighting 69th, starring James Cagney and Pat O’Brien as the chaplain.
Fr. Duffy is remembered for his bravery on the battlefield, administering last rites, tending to the wounded, and caring for the dead. Going far beyond the duties of a chaplain, Fr. Duffy served as a leader to his men, boosting their morale as they prepared to enter battle, and comforting the wounded. General Douglas MacArthur later said that Fr. Duffy was briefly considered for the post of regimental commander.
Ed Litcher Joyce Gold also got it right
PHOTO CREDIT: WIKIPEDIA
CREDITS
ATLAS OBSCURA BROOKLYN MUSEUM
JUDITH BERDY
MAYA LEVANON-PHOTOS TIK TOK & INSTAGRAM
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
OF THE 50 FOOT FEMALE STATUE THAT ONCE TOWERED OVER TIMES SQUARE
EPHEMERAL NEW YORK
ISSUE# 1157
The mystery of the 50-foot plaster female statue that once towered over Times Square
It was September 1909 when New Yorkers in Times Square began noticing the colossal white figure, shrouded in scaffolding between 45th and 46th Street across from Cafe Madrid and the Hotel Astor.
By October, the white figure gained a female face and form. A statue was emerging in the city’s bustling new entertainment district—where glittery theaters, late-night lobster palaces, and enormous illuminated billboards had edged out the carriage-making trade that once called the former Longacre Square home.
A new monument wasn’t necessarily unwelcome; the city was filling up with them on Fifth Avenue, Riverside Drive, and public parks like Union Square. The problem, however, was that no one knew who the Times Square statue would honor or what it was supposed to mean.
“Shopkeepers on both sides of the square, restauranteurs and hotel men, theatrical men, and box office and ticket sellers questioned each other and everyone they met, but no one knew why or what the strange figure was to represent,” reported the New York Times on October 5.
The Times did a little digging, and an explanation appeared. The 50-foot plaster statue was the work of a young Italian-born sculptor, Leo Lentelli. It was commissioned by a recently formed civic group called the Association for New York.
The group’s purpose was to “challenge indiscriminate abuse and criticism of New York City,” according to the president, William Harmon Black.
What kind of criticism, specifically? That the city had poor credit and the “aspersions constantly cast upon the integrity and honesty of the municipal authorities,” said Black, who was also the president of the city’s Board of Aldermen (and would go on to hold numerous offices and appointments).
Erecting a statue in the middle of Times Square simply as “an artistic, silent exhortation to civic pride and confidence,” wrote the Times, raised many eyebrows. So when “Purity,” as the statue was named, had its official unveiling on October 8, newspapers had fun covering it
“The new plaster Virtue got a real glimpse of Broadway, the Tenderloin, and the Rialto last night, when for the first time they knocked off the wooden shackles which bound her plastic form at the upper end of Times Square, threw half a dozen spotlights on her, and otherwise held her up to the public gaze,” the newspaper wrote, calling the statue by a different name.
“If she blushed she did not show it, and if those who saw her appreciated her kalsomined presence, it was only noticeable in their amused smiles.”
Puzzled Times Square visitors had their own thoughts about Purity. “‘Is she a suffragette?’ inquired a newcomer, according to one newspaper. ‘She’s got a look in her eye that means business.’”
While newspaper writers and savvy New Yorkers mocked the statue, its real purpose came to light: Tammany Hall, the corrupt Democratic political machine that dominated Gotham’s politics through the 19th and early 20th centuries, built it specifically for this election season. (Tammany’s corruption and influence is illustrated in the below cartoon from Puck in 1899.)
Purity “was commissioned by the notorious political gang of Tammany Hall, who figured it to be the best way to announce their ‘pure and noble’ intentions to the public after an opponent accused them of crooked practices,” states a 2016 article by New York Nimby.
Knowing for sure that Tammany Hall was behind the statue didn’t stop the mocking. One civic group announced it was putting up its own statue as a rival.
“The Committee of One Hundred announced yesterday that a plaster creation would be unveiled to-morrow in its exhibit on 16th Street as an answer to the ‘Miss Purity’ statue erected in Times Square,” wrote the Times on October 20. The statue “would represent Miss Purity prostrate, with the Tammany Tiger clutching at her throat.”
Purity was supposed to remain in place until December. But its plaster began deteriorating in the rain and wind not long after the unveiling. Once Election Day was over—and it proved to not be favorable to Tammany Hall—the statue was slated to meet the wrecking ball.
“Tammany’s defeat—for she was a Tammany daughter—must have made her sorrowful, and maybe she didn’t care whether she lived her full span out or not, concluded The Timeson November 20.
Workmen took sledgehammers to Purity’s face and arms. A crowd formed to watch, and bill stickers began plastering her pedestal with advertisements, as they had a few days before the pedestal would be carried away. “Back to the dust pile for her, election being over,” the Times headline read.
The spot where Purity stood for all of two months became the site of a very different statue in 1937—that of Father Francis P. Duffy, chaplain for the city’s “Fighting 69th” infantry regiment. This end of Times Square has since been known as Father Duffy Square, with Purity long forgotten and Tammany Hall also in history’s dustbi
[Top image: New-York Historical Society/Robert L. Bracklow Photograph Collection; second photo: Bain Collection/Library of Congress; third image: New York Times 1909; fourth image: New-York Historical Society/Robert L. Bracklow Photograph Collection; fifth image: Puck, 1899; sixth image: The Sun 1909; seventh image: New-York Historical Society/Robert L. Bracklow Photograph Collection]
MAYA LEVANON-PHOTOS TIK TOK & INSTAGRAM
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
FROM 1939 TO 2013 SIX BRONZE LAMPS GRACED THE ENTRANCE TO GOLDWATER.
THE FULLY FUNCTIONED UNTIL THE DAY THEY WERE DISCONNECTED,
ON A GRACEFUL PLYMTH THE LAMPS WERE IMPRESSIVE
TYPICAL OF PUBLIC ARCHITECTURE, GOLDWATER WAS THE BENEFIT OF WPA ARCHITECTURE AND DESIGN
THE MOVE NORTH
AFTER THE CLOSING OF GOLDWATER THE SIX LAMPS WERE STORED IN THE BACK YARD OF COLER. FROM WHEN I STARTED WORKING AS A VOLUNTEER AT COLER, I TRIED TO HAVE ADMINISTRATION, CLEAN UP AREA, FIND A NEW HOME AND PROTECT THE LAMPS. ONE LAMP WAS ALREADY BROKEN AND THE OTHERS JUST SAT IN SEMI-OPEN VIEW.
ON DECEMBER 26TH, FOUR WERE HAULED OFF. A TRUCK ARRIVED AND IN 20 MINUTES THE LAMPS WERE GONE. A POLICE REPORT HAS BEEN FILED, BUT SURELY THESE VALUABLE LAMPS WERE AT A SCRAP DEALER THE NEXT DAY. ONE LAMP AND ONE BROKEN ONE REMAIN.
MAYBE WE WILL RESCUE THE BROKEN LAMP AND PLACE IT NEXT TO OUR OTHER ARTIFACTS BY THE KIOSK.
ON DECEMBER 29TH, THE TRUCK RETURNED AND WITHIN 5 MINUTES THE LAST STANDING LAMP WAS GONE. (THE DAMAGED ONE IS NOW SECURED)
THIS IS THE TRUCK, WITH NO MARKINGS AND NO LICENSE PLATES ARRIVING AND DEPARTING THE SITE.
UPDATE
This is probably one of the most heartbreaking episodes in my years on the island. To see valuable historic artifacts being stolen, destroyed, ignored by so many is tragic.
What of our history be gone next? What landmark will be ignored? What building or site will not be maintained? Look around and see how our treasures are being ignored (start at the Chapel bell). Maybe 2024 will wake up RIOC and others to our fragile history.
Judith Berdy
JUDITH BERDY, GLORIA HERMAN AND ELLEN JACOBY SPENT THIS AFTERNOON SECURING OUR ARTIFACTS SO THEY WILL NOT VANISH FROM OUR ARCHIVES. WE HAVE ALWAYS KEPT OUR TREASURES SECURE AND MANY ARE THE ONLY RESOURCES THAT REMAIN OF MANY ASPECTS OF ISLAND HISTORY.
WEDNESDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY
Oklahoma, the 46th state, entered the Union on November 16, 1907. As such, this 46–star flag was the official flag of the United States from July 4, 1908, until July 4, 1912. The silk printed flag has a dark blue canton with 46 white printed stars. The stars are configured in an 8/7/8/8/7/8 row pattern.
CREDITS
JUDITH BERDY
MAYA LEVANON-PHOTOS TIK TOK & INSTAGRAM
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
Life Jacket Theatre Company | THE GORGEOUS NOTHINGS
MON.FEBRUARY 12 AT 7PM
Venue: The Theater at New York Live Arts
LAST YEAR I ATTENDED A READING OF THIS DRAMA ABOUT THE GAY PRISONERS WHO WERE INCARCERATED AT THE PENITENTIARY ON WELFARE ISLAND. THIS PRODUCTION IS BASED ON TRUE STORIES, FIRST HAND ACCOUNTS, ARCHIVAL RESEARCH AND TELLS STORIES OF THOSE WHO WERE ON OUR ISLAND IN THE 1930’S.
AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE
BROCADE PANELS THAT WERE ON DISPLAY IN RIVERCROSS DISPLAY WINDOW.
One artist has taken on the challenge of recreating near 700 bulldozed, demolished, burned down, and otherwise “lost” buildings of the 19th and 20th-centuries. Montreal based illustrator Raymond Biesinger has tasked himself with researching and drawing the disappeared buildings of Canada and the USA’s 50 largest cities and boroughs before 2022. His simple yet detailed and precise drawings bring back to life buildings that were lost to time, and he’s already covered most of New York City.
So far, Bieseinger is 92 weeks, 356 drawings, and 22 prints in to the challenge. Biesinger tells Untapped New York, “My style of illustration has always been very rectangular and geometric, and over the years architectural projects have just ‘found me.’” While working on a series of Canadian historic and architectural prints from 2012-2015, which included dozens of buildings, he found himself most drawn to the ones that no longer existed. “It seemed like a good idea to explore those ‘lost’ buildings, and after drawing my way through Canada’s, it seemed like a good idea to explore the United States,” he says.
Image Courtesy of Raymond Biesinger
Biesinger has already drawn his way through most of New York City’s long gone structures. He compiles his geometric drawings into eye-catching posters with a collage of the lost buildings from a particular city or borough in the US or Canada. Manhattan, the Bronx, Brooklyn and Queens are all available. As for Staten Island, Biesinger says it’s more difficult to conduct the research for buildings in a smaller borough from abroad, but, “Maybe there’s a Staten Island historian-illustrator duo who would be up for the challenge!”
Image Courtesy of Raymond Biesinger
In Biesinger’s posters of New York City’s lost buildings, you will find a wide variety of structures from train stations and factories to theaters and hotels, even fast food restaurants. In Manhattan, buildings featured include the famous original Penn Station which was demolished in 1963, the Singer Building which held the title of tallest building in the world in 1908, the Twin Towers, and a previous iteration of Madison Square Garden. In Queens, New Yorkers will remember the original Shea Stadium, the demolished PanAm Worldport and a Wendy’s that served as a film location for the Eddie Murphy film Coming to America in the 1980s. The illustrated lost buildings of Brooklyn include the former home of the Brooklyn Dodgers, Ebbet’s Field and Luna Park at Coney Island. In the Bronx, Biesinger’s poster brings back to life the Loew’s National Theater, the Whitlock Mansion, and original Yankee Stadium.
Image Courtesy of Raymond Biesinger
raymond@fifteen.ca tel. 1-514-264-2382 2679 rue Wellington, Montreal QC, Canada, H3K 1X8
About I’m a Montréal-based illustrator, artist, and best-selling author very into editorial and commercial work, and while the portfolio part of this website may include only a trim two dozen projects, I’ve been part of more than 1000 assignments on five continents since 2002. That might sound impressive (and make commissioning me to make new work sound expensive), but I work on a sliding scale and respond to every inquiry. Other interests: minimalism, maximalism, world and local history, equality, diversity, economics, music, science fiction, historic buildings, pictorial maps, Canadiana, wall art, preserving a 145-year-old home, etc. I’m also a proud member of Illustration Québec, which is a non-profit organization whose mission is to bring together and support illustrators.
You can think of much of my work as a collage that doesn’t look like a collage—pieces made from real-world lines, shapes, and textures scanned into a computer that’s used as an infinitely-forgiving Xerox machine, glue, and scissors. These “collaged” components lose their recognizability in the process, but through repetitive use bring flaws, eccentricities, and geometries that form a unique visual vocabulary.
AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE
BROCADE PANELS NOW ON DISPLAY IN RIVERCROSS DISPLAY WINDOW.
