Cunard Line poster. “For safety and comfort take the old reliable Cunard Line. Established 1840. Sailing 4 times a week. For all European points. Between New York and Liverpool. P.H. Du Vernet, General Western Agent, North West Corner Clark and Randolph Streets, Chicago.”
Poster of the Royal Mail Steam Packet Company liner Alcantara at Rio de Janeiro, by Kenneth Shoesmith
New Zealand Shipping Company Ltd, New Zealand line. R.M.S. Rangitata in Gaillard Cut, 1930s, Screenprint, 980 x 1253 mm, Printed Ephemera Collection, Alexander Turnbull Library, Reference: Eph-H-SHIP-1930s-01
Some of the most striking posters on the international scene in the twentieth century were those showing ships; the large flat surfaces lent themselves well to poster treatment. This one uses a comparatively subtle colour palette. We think the date is likely to be the early 1930s, because of the style and because the R.M.S. Rangitata was launched in 1929.
The Red Star Line ship Belgenland, rigged as a schooner and dressed overall. She was launched in 1878, completed in 1879, renamed Venere in 1904 and scrapped in 1905.
NURSES ON PIER OUTSIDE CITY HOSPITAL ED LITCHER AND GLORIA HERMAN GOT IT RIGHT
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
Sources
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In 1882, Charles Lewis Tiffany decided to build an enormous new residence for himself and his family.
The early years of the mansion, almost alone in the wilds of the Upper East Side
This wouldn’t be unusual for a rich, prominent merchant in Gilded Age New York City. Tiffany was that Tiffany, the man who launched a stationary and fine goods shop in 1837 that soon grew to become the internationally famous jewelry store.What might have seemed odd was the location Tiffany chose for his family castle. Rather than gravitating toward Fifth Avenue just below Central Park, where other elite new money New Yorkers were building elegant homes, Tiffany planned his mansion on Madison Avenue and 72nd Street—a mostly empty stretch of Manhattan that had yet to fulfill its destiny as a wealthy residential enclave.
The Tiffany mansion between 1900-1910, with more neighbors on Madison AvenuePerhaps he had an affinity for Madison Avenue; Tiffany lived at 255 Madison near 38th Street at the time. Or it may have been an opportunity to “procure a large footprint of land on a wide cross street, ensuring not only extra light but also ample southern exposure,” wrote Alice Cooney Frelinghuysen in Louis Comfort Tiffany and Laurelton Hall.Tiffany hired McKim, Mead & White to design what would be one of the largest dwelling houses in New York, even by Gilded Age standards. Working closely with Stanford White in particular was Charles Tiffany’s son, Louis Comfort Tiffany. Louis had studied painting before becoming an innovative and acclaimed decorative artist-craftsman and starting Tiffany Studios, “renowned for pottery, jewelry, metalwork and, especially, stained glass,” wrote Christopher Gray in a 2006 New York Times piece.
Louis Comfort Tiffany, far left; Charles Tiffany is in the center holding Louis’ kids in 1888
The mansion, completed in 1885, was a 57-room showstopper that dwarfed its few neighbors. There was another unusual aspect to it: the gigantic house was actually three separate residences for separate Tiffany family members.
“The first, on the first and second floors, was frequently said to be for Charles, but he never occupied it,” wrote Gray. “The second apartment, taking up the third floor, was for Louis’s unmarried sister, Louise; the third, on the fourth and fifth floors, was for Louis himself.”
Louis’ first wife died before the mansion was finished, and the widower moved in with his four young children from their previous residence on 26th Street. (He would soon remarry and have four more kids.) Louise stayed with her parents at 255 Madison, according to Michael Henry Adams, writing in HuffPo.
To enter the house meant walking through a huge stone arch, which led to a central courtyard. “The structure was crowned by a great tile roof—substantial enough to have covered a suburban railroad station—and by a complex assemblage of turrets, balconies, chimney stacks, oriel windows and other elements in rough-faced bluestone and mottled yellow iron-spot brick,” noted Gray.
Of course, a mansion of this size and pedigree attracted the attention of architectural critics, who either loved it or hated it. Ladies’ Home Journal dubbed it “the most artistic house in New York City,” thanks in part to detail on the facade and ornament, wrote Frelinghuysen. A detractor called it “the most conspicuous dwelling house in the city,” she added.
Louis reserved the fifth floor for his studio, which was three to four stories high and situated amid the mansion’s gables, according to Gray. Accounts from visitors suggested that the studio was a showcase for Louis’ talent and creativity, as well as his collections of exotic objects and furnishings. It also served as a “sanctuary from the daily bustle,” wrote Frelinghuysen.
“A forest of ironwork, brasses and decorative glassware suspended from the ceiling made the atmosphere even more obscure and mysterious,” added Gray. “Near the center was a four-hearth fireplace, feeding into one sinuous chimney made of concrete. It rose from the floor like an Art Nouveau tree trunk.” Makes sense; Louis took his inspiration from nature
An 1886 sketch of the house, dwarfing the two men on the sidewalk
In 1905, after the elder Tiffany passed away, Louis built a country estate near Oyster Bay, Long Island called Laurelton Hall. As the decades went on, he began spending more time there, moving some of the furnishings and objects from his Madison Avenue to his estate house.
He died in the Madison Avenue mansion in 1933 at the age of 84; the house met the wrecking ball three years later. The spectacular mansion, designed as a family compound of sorts that most of the family never actually lived in, was replaced by a stately apartment building.
LOBSTER TRAPS ON PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND, CANADA BEFORE HURRICANE AND AFTER FIONA.
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
Sources EPHEMERAL NEW YORK
[First and second images: NYPL; third image: Wikipedia; fourth image: MCNY 93.1.1.18259; fifth image: Google Arts and Culture; sixth image: NYPL]
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Dear reader, I don’t usually write about myself. But this is really something. So, permit me, just this once.
Over the Covid era, I have become a puzzle – jig-saw puzzle – enthusiast. I like them 1000 pieces and difficult to hard. I have a large dining table, and since I only take up a small portion at one end, the other can be devoted to weeks long puzzle struggles. I’ve done some lovely paintings but I like magazine covers, too. The old Sunset mag has some wonderful images and I’ve enjoyed several Norman Rockwell covers from the Saturday Evening Post. At the moment, I’m battling a Steinberg cover from the New Yorker.
I was recently gobsmacked to learn that the Bard Graduate Center now sells a puzzle in its bookstore – not my picture, but the image of a gift we gave to Bard which has become a major feature in their Study Collection program. How about that!
The Bard Graduate Center is a research institute in New York City with MA and PhD programs. It’s devoted to the study of decorative arts, design history, and material culture through research, advanced degrees, exhibitions, publications, and events. The Study Collection lives in the Graduate Center and is what might have been called in earlier times a Wunderkammern, or cabinet of wonders. It’s a grand collection of things – many media, many eras, many places. The Collection website states, “The purpose of the Study Collection is to support pedagogy by providing hands-on, close-up examination of objects as part of a classroom experience. Holdings include artifacts of glass, metal, ceramic, wood, plastic, textiles, and paper.”
Several years ago, we donated 80 pieces of pottery, glass, and wood collected or simply picked up around the world because they were interesting or just simply beautiful. At a recent Bard program for high school students, I was enormously pleased to hear one young woman describe and analyze a carving I had carried home from Nigeria. She and her colleagues were clear, clever and articulate far beyond what I would ever thought such young people could do.
We met the Bard folks when we learned of a program run at the Grad Center dealing with mended works of art. Researchers pore over these pieces like forensic pathologists reconstructing a crime. What is it, how was it broken, how was it mended and other questions are on the table.
Years before, we purchased a large English serving platter. We knew it was Staffordshire, early 19th century, with a large transfer image. It was a magnificent piece, well beyond our price range. Except that it had been broken and very, very carefully mended. The price was now in our range, so, of course, we purchased it.
The damage could scarcely be seen from the top. The two halves had been carefully fitted together and held by 15 metal stables. Tiny holes were bored, perhaps with a diamond drill, and the staples, heated red hot, were placed in the holes. When the staples cooled, the two pieces were drawn together securely. In addition to the break, there’s more damage on the bottom, yet not a chip on the surface.
We assumed it had been brought here in colonial times, almost surely a valuable addition to a home, and that it had been broken here (but perhaps in transit?). More fascinating was the effort and time expended to mend it. Who mended it? There must have been expert hands at doing this. We wondered why the owner felt it was so important to be worth mending. And then, how had it been preserved for so many years.
We learned more about it. Markings showed that it was made by Rogers and Son in perhaps in the 1840s. Rogers and Son was a pottery manufacturer located in Burslem, a town in Staffordshire, one of a several manufacturers in this area – producing what is now known as Staffordshire ware. The pattern, an Egyptian scene of a rider on a camel and architectural elements, was named “Camel” and colored in bold cobalt blue and white.
England had made fine porcelain – Bow, Chelsea, among other manufacturers – but that was much too expensive for England’s new middle classes. These people had money enough for some indulgence, but it had to fit their purses – and Staffordshire pottery looked very much like the real thing, although it was earthenware or stoneware and much less dear. As demand for this new product grew, technological advances responded, and new forms of decoration (transfer printing, for example and new colors, as well as a raft of new shapes and designs) emerged. (Some of these potters very successfully imitated Chinese export ware.) Soon, Staffordshire ware became standard in the kitchens of all but the wealthiest British families.
Some of the Staffordshire companies grew much larger and their names are legendary today – Spode, Davenport, Moorcroft, Mintons, Doulton and, of course, Wedgewood. And we can see a profound transformation in marketing and advertising as the industry became one of England’s largest and helped move England into the industrial revolution.
John and George Rogers are listed in a 1784 directory as manufacturers of “china glazed, blue painted wares and cream coloured” at Burslem. They were probably operating from the potworks their father Francis had owned and which he left to John, the elder son, in his will. George Rogers died in April 1815 and John in December 1816. John had a son, Spencer Rogers, who inherited the business and continued to trade as ‘John Rogers & Son’. Spencer Rogers continued in business until 1842, in which year he was adjudicated bankrupt. (see http://www.americanhistoricalstaffordshire.com/history/john-rogers)
Roger and Son carried on trade with the United States. The Boston merchant Horace Collamore gave the factory three orders; the first, for twenty-five crates on 23rd May, 1814; the second, for three crates and five hogsheads on 4th December 1815; and the third, for twenty five crates, on 4th May 1816. The first order included ten crates of printed tea and table ware. The named patterns were Stag, Zebra, Elephant, Oriental and, of course, Camel. So, we know this platters of this design found their way to the United States through at least one Yankee merchant. And perhaps, an American merchant imported it, and sold it to a customer, in whose charge in was broken – and mended.
Years later, into our hands and then, to Bard Graduate Center’s Study Collection where it has become one of the most viewed and studied objects. And finally, the subject of a 300-piece jigsaw puzzle commemorating their exhibition entitled Conserving Active Matter. Check out the bottom note.
I know, this was a slightly odd addition to my RIHS series. I’ve donated paintings and plates to several museums, and that is always a kick. But how many people have had their own puzzle, at least when they are still around?
FLOOR PLAN IN EASTWOOD FOR ONE BEDROOM APARTMENT, 1975, RENT IN 1977- $321.
ED LITCHER, NINA LUBLIN, GLORIA HERMAN GOT IT RIGHT
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Deborah Dorff All image are copyrighted (c)
STEPHEN BLANK
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CITY COUNCIL REPRESENTATIVE JULE MENIN DISCRETIONARY FUNDING THRU DYCD
When it was founded in 1917 by local Jewish shop owners on West 47th Street in Hell’s Kitchen, the congregation was known as Ezrath Israel.
Actors who frequented the Theater District and Times Square were decided not welcome. In the early 20th century, they were looked down upon for their supposed loose morals and the sometimes shady venues where they plied their trade.
But in the mid-1920s, a new synagogue for this small congregation had been constructed—a beige brick building that stood out thanks to its majestic stained glass center window. A new rabbi also took the helm, and he “realized that he could increase the membership by welcoming actors from nearby Broadway,” wrote Joseph Berger in the New York Times in 2011. That rabbi, Bernard Birstein, reversed the previous no-performer policy, according to David Dunlop’s 2014 book, From Abyssinian to Zion: A Guide to Manhattan’s Houses of Worship.
Drawing from all the theaters, cabarets, and nightclubs in this hopping part of Jazz Age Manhattan, the congregation attracted showbiz hopefuls as well as the already famous. Performers like Sophie Tucker, Milton Berle, and Jack Benny came to services, and Ezrath Israel became known as the Actors’ Temple.
“Some members and congregants, many of whom were born into poor, hardworking immigrant families, included Al Jolson, Edward G. Robinson, Jack Benny, Milton Berle, Henny Youngman, Eddie Cantor, Burt Lahr, George Jessel, and countless other lesser-known actors, comedians, singers, playwrights, composers, musicians, writers, dancers and theatrical agents, along with sports figures like Sandy Koufax, Barney Ross, and Jake Pitler,” states the temple’s website.
By the time of his death in 1959, Rabbi Birstein had boosted membership to 1,000, according to a 2002 New York Daily News article. But the number of congregants began to dwindle steadily through the decade—a trend experienced by other small synagogues in Manhattan’s unglamorous business districts, like the Garment District Synagogue and the Millinery Center Synagogue.
Today, the Actors’ Temple is still holding fundraisers and offers services for the high holidays. I’m not sure if any A-listers belong to the congregation, but members “take great pride in carrying on our Jewish show business tradition by being a place of acceptance, spirituality, creativity, and love,” per the website.
was once the centerpiece of a great public market beneath the Queensboro Bridge Market in the early twentieth century, but it was long hidden from view until restored under the aegis of MAS’s Adopt-A-Monument program. The perilous life of this handsome civic amenity is a saga that stretches nearly nine decades.
The Queensboro Bridge, built in 1908 by the architect Henry Hornbostal and engineer Gustuv Lindenthal, spans the East River, linking Manhattan with farmlands in Queens. By 1916 one of the city’s most prosperous plein-air farmer’s markets developed alongside the bridge. As a result of its success, and as part of a campaign to get pushcarts off the street, the main section underneath the bridge, with its soaring Catalan vaulted tile ceiling pioneered by the émigré Spanish architect, Rafael Gustavino, was glazed, converting it to a year-round market facility.
Judy Schneider got it right
Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Deborah Dorff All image are copyrighted (c)
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
SOURCES
[Third image: geni.com] Tags: Actors Temple Hell’s Kitchen, Actors Temple New York City, Actors Temple West 47th Street, Small Synagogues of Manhattan, Synagogues of New York City Posted in Hell’s Kitchen, Houses of worship, Music, art, theater |
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CITY COUNCIL REPRESENTATIVE JULIE MENIN DISCRETIONARY FUNDING THRU DYCD
American Impressionist Edward Henry Potthast is best known for sunny beach scenes, filled with sparkling surf and high-keyed details such as balloons, hats and umbrellas. He was born to a family of artisans in Cincinnati, Ohio, on June 10, 1857. At age twelve he became a charter student at Cincinnati’s new McMicken School of Design. He studied at McMicken, off and on, for over a decade. From 1879 to 1881, his teacher was Thomas Satterwhite Noble. Noble, a portrait and figure painter, employed a dark palette and a rich, painterly technique derived from his instruction under French artist Thomas Couture.
Potthast made his first trip to Europe in 1881. After a visit to Antwerp, where he studied with Polydore Beaufaux and Charles Verlat, Potthast proceeded to Munich perhaps on a visit that had been prearranged with Noble, who was also in Munich in the early 1880s. Munich and its Royal Academy strongly had long been a destination for Cincinnati artists. Potthast and Noble had been preceded by fellow Cincinnatians John Henry Twachtman, Robert Blum, Joseph De Camp, and Frank Duveneck, who alternately taught in Munich and Cincinnati. At the Royal Academy, Potthast studied with the American-born instructor Carl Marr (von Marr, after 1909), who was known for his adroit handling of light and shadow in realistically rendered works. Potthast completed his European tour with a visit to Paris, where he studied for about a month and a half at the Academie Julian.
Returning to Cincinnati in 1885, Potthast resumed his studies with Noble, while earning his living as a lithographer. At this time, his painting style was much influenced by the Munich School, which was, in turn, influenced by the Dutch painting tradition. Potthast’s paintings, which included both interiors and landscapes, displayed sound draftsmanship and dark tones applied with solid unbroken strokes. At the end of 1886, he again departed for Paris, where he studied with Fernand Cormon and, possibly, with Jules-Joseph Lefebvre. In 1889 he met American Robert Vonnoh and Irishman Roderic O’ Conor, landscape painters who were working at Grcz. The cool-toned, Impressionist paintings with scumbled surfaces these painters and others at the Grcz colony were making had a profound impact on Potthast’s palette. His conversion to Impressionism was immediate and irrevocable. When he returned to Cincinnati, he carried back light-filled canvases, paintings such as Sunshine, 1889 (Cincinnati Art Museum), a painting of a girl in an outdoor setting, which had been exhibited in the Paris Salon of 1889. When the exhibition entitled “Light Pictures” opened in 1894 at the Cincinnati Art Museum, Potthast was the only American artist included in the show.
Even though he enjoyed modest success in his hometown, Potthast made the decision to leave Cincinnati in 1895 and establish himself in New York City. While he went about setting up a painting studio, he fulfilled illustration commissions for the publications Scribner’s, Century, and Harper’s. He exhibited watercolors and oil paintings in exhibitions at the Art Institute of Chicago beginning in 1896, and at the National Academy of Design from 1897. He won the academy’s Thomas B. Clarke prize for best figure painting in 1899, the same year was he was elected an associate of the academy. Potthast was made a full academician in 1906.
After his move to New York, Potthast made scenes of people enjoying leisurely holidays at the beach and rocky harbor views his specialty. He spent summer months in any one of a number of seaside art colonies, including Gloucester, Rockport and Cape Cod in Massachusetts, and Ogunquit and Monhegan Island, Maine. Such was his love of the beach that, when he resided in New York, he would journey out on fair days to Coney Island or Far Rockaway with his easel, paintbox, and a few panels.
Potthast never married. He was an extremely private person, though he was close to his nephew and namesake, Edward Henry Potthast II (1880-1941), who also was an artist. Potthast died alone in his New York studio on March 9, 1927.
The paintings of Edward Henry Potthast are represented in public collections across the United States, including the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston; Brooklyn Museum of Art, New York; Butler Institute of American Art, Youngstown, Ohio; Art Institute of Chicago; Cincinnati Art Museum; Georgia Museum of Art, Athens; Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; and Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, Philadelphia.
Edward Potthast spent many days at the beach painting scenes of children and their families. Through his artwork, he captured the peacefulness of the children. Although he never had children and was a somewhat private person, he clearly enjoyed their company.
Potthast is one of the top beach scene painters by any American artist today which accounts for the rather steep prices of his artwork. A Potthast beach scene can be a great investment for the future. (From Hollis Taggart Galleries)
SEEDING AN OYSTER BED NEWAR THE BATTERY IN THE EAST RIVER ED LITCHER AND HARA REISER GOT IT RIGHT!
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
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Queen Elizabeth II visits New York City, July 6, 2010. Mayor Bloomberg Photo Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.
The late Queen Elizabeth II traveled to New York City three times during her 70-year reign as the British monarch. The first visit took place on October 21, 1957. Her majesty had expressed a lifelong desire to see the famous Manhattan skyline from New York harbor. Her wish was granted as she traveled by ferry from Staten Island across the bay to the Battery for the start of a ticker-tape parade that brought her to City Hall and a welcome from Mayor Robert Wagner.
Ticker tape parade Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and His Royal Highness the Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, October 21, 1957. NYC Municipal Archives Collection.
Queen Elizabeth’s 24-hours in New York City was the culmination of a six-day visit to the United States. The details of her journey are well-documented in Mayor Wagner’s subject files. The records include a ten-page “Program for the Visit of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and His Royal Highness the Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, to the United States of America, October 16–21, 1957.” The program lists the fifteen members of the royal party as well as a minute-by-minute schedule, beginning with their 1:30 p.m. arrival at Williamsburg, Virginia on October 16. Other stops included the College of William and Mary, and three days of sightseeing and ceremonial luncheons and dinners in Washington D.C.
The program indicated that on the evening of October 20, the Queen and her party would depart from Union Station in Washington arriving at Stapleton, Staten Island the next morning at 10:10 a.m. to begin their day of festivities in New York City. A luncheon at the Waldorf Astoria hosted by Mayor Wagner followed the ticker-tape parade. Their itinerary included a stop at the United Nations and the Empire State Building and ended at 11:45 p.m. when the motorcade proceeded to Idlewild International Airport for a 12:45 a.m. departure by Royal Aircraft for London.
Waldorf Astoria program for a luncheon in honor of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. Mayor Wagner Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.
The folder in the Mayor Wagner collection also includes items such as a helpful memo issued by the Department of State, Office of the Chief of Protocol. The document specifies that “The Queen and Prince Philip prefer short, simple meals.” For beverages, “The Queen likes Rhine wine, sherry, and Canada Dry ginger ale. Prince Philip may ask for Scotch Whisky and Soda Water or Gin and Tonic Water.”
Queen Elizabeth II visited New York City again on July 9,1976, as part of a six-day tour of the United States marking the Bicentennial of America’s Declaration of Independence from Britain. Although Mayor Abraham Beame proclaimed her an honorary New Yorker, there is not documentary evidence of her visit in the processed records of his administration. However, the mayoral scrapbook series does provide a source of information. Beginning in 1904 clerks in the mayor’s offices clipped articles from local newspapers that referred to the mayor, or municipal events in general, and pasted them into scrapbooks. The practice continued through the administration of Mayor Edward I. Koch. Although many newspapers have been digitized in recent years, the scrapbooks contain clippings from all the daily newspapers. The scrapbooks also provide useful context for events and personalities that is not always apparent in on-line searching.
Not every New Yorker was happy with the Queen’s 1957 visit. The Queens chapter of the Ancient Order of Hibernians sent Mayor Wagner a letter protesting “the use of taxpayer’s money to entertain a British Queen.” Mayor Wagner Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.
Mayor Beame’s staff clipped several articles documenting the Queen’s day in New York City. According to the New York Times, it began with her arrival at the Battery aboard a “sleek 44-foot motorboat—from the royal yacht Britannia.” The Daily News reported that Queen Elizabeth accepted a welcoming bouquet from Mayor Beame’s granddaughter, Julie, at Battery Park. From there she went to Federal Hall and then “strolled, with Beame and Mrs. Beame, the 100 yards up Wall Street to Trinity Church.” Their itinerary included a luncheon at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, and a stop at the Morris-Jumel mansion in Harlem. Several articles detail her 30-minute visit at Bloomingdale’s department store: “A Bloomin’ Good Day for Queen Elizabeth,” proclaimed the Daily News. The Times reported that the excursion had been suggested by the department store executives, “… as a very American experience,” and agreed to by the Queen. The article went on to note that “…the Queen seemed slightly bewildered—and perhaps that was because what she was doing was not exactly part of her everyday routine. In Britain, the Queen seldom goes shopping—the merchandise comes to her.”Queen Elizabeth’s third and final visit to New York City took place on July 6, 2010. The Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg photograph collection includes several images of Queen Elizabeth during her visit. Bloomberg administration records have not yet been completely processed and it is not known if there is other documentation of the one-day visit. But newspaper accounts tell the story. According to the New York Times, the Queen and Prince Philip arrived by private plane from Canada. Her majesty made a short address to the United Nations. Next her motorcade traveled down to ground zero where “…she solemnly laid a wreath in remembrance of the lost lives. Then, along with her husband, she greeted some of the families of the victims and first responders.” Her final foray was to nearby Hanover Square to officially open the British Garden, a triangular park that opened in 2008 as a memorial to the 67 British citizens who died on September 11.
Thank you letter from Buckingham Palace, October 24, 1957. Mayor Wagner Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.
THOM HEYER, ALEXIS VILLAFANE, ED LITCHER, NINA LUBLIN ALL GOT IT RIGHT
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
Sources
N.Y.C. MUNICIPAL ARCHIVES KENNETH R.COBB
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I spent the day in Boston last week and had a wonderful visit to the Central Library at Copley Square. It was worth the visit with the Mc Kim building being a treasure trove of masterpiece art.
The Bacchante and Infant Faun sculpture in the central courtyard at Boston Public Library
Two lions grace the central staircase (cousins of Patience and Fortitude?) Sculpted by Louis St Gaudens, the stone is not finished and if you rub the tails, good luck will follow.
Boston Public Library 1st Public library
The room has a commemorative plaque
The Guastavino Room is now used for special events
The ceiling looks so familiar.
Books are still on the upper level shelves
Murals by John Singer Sargent grace the upper level.
Just in case you were curious, the Mc Kim building is connected to the modern Boyleston Street annex. A great modern structure where you can have you mandatory Cappuccino,.
WINDOW WASHERS AT BLOOMBERG CENTER, CORNELL TECH 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
Sources
JUDITH BERDY WIKIMEDIA COMMONS BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY
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FROM ANDY SPARBERG: Underground trolley terminal at Manhattan end of Queensboro Bridge, for cars that crossed the bridge and made a stop at the Upside Down Building for access to Welfare Island, now Roosevelt Island.
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
Sources
WIKIMEDIA COMMONS
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On the morning of December 31, 1909, Saratoga Springs philanthropist and financier Spencer Trask was just waking up after a night in a railroad sleeping car at the rear of the Montreal Express. The night before this southbound train had picked up Trask in Saratoga as it made its way toward New York City.At 8:03 am, only moments after the express train had stopped unexpectedly on the mainline near Croton, Westchester County, New York, a train transporting bales of raw silk crashed into its rear, killing Trask, the porter in his sleeping car, and injuring several other of the passengers. While the direct cause of this deadly wreck pointed to a failure of signal equipment and railroad personnel, events leading up to the tragedy had been put into motion six thousand miles to the west seventeen days earlier.Silk was a commodity whose value in North America had increased dramatically in the years following the Civil War. In 1909, the year of Spencer Trask’s death, our country consumed half of the world’s production of raw silk, about twenty-four million pounds, with an estimated value of eighty million dollars.After silk was harvested in Japan, it was packaged into three-foot bales weighing just under two hundred pounds. The bales were sealed, wrapped in heavy paper, and then marked for shipment throughout the world. In the middle of December of 1909 at the Japanese port of Yokohama, a fast steamship of the Canadian Pacific Railroad’s Empress Line was loaded with the bales of raw silk that twelve days later would be on the silk train that ended Trask’s life.The destination of this vessel was Vancouver, British Columbia, where within minutes of docking bales of raw silk were streaming down a conveyor belt and into the hands of an army of stevedores whose sole duty was to quickly fill the waiting railroad freight cars. In less than two hours, over one million dollars of silk bales were in place and the journey across Canada began.Special silk trains transported this valuable cargo from Pacific Ocean ports to the National Silk Exchange in New York City. The train’s freight cars were specially made for moving this valuable product with both safety and speed. Built on passenger car suspension and wheels, they were shorter than the standard freight car to allow them to take curves at higher speeds. They were also lined on the inside with varnished wood and airtight as the value of the raw silk diminished if it was allowed to absorb moisture.From Vancouver, the train headed east to Prescott, in Ontario, Canada where the cars were taken across the St. Lawrence River to Ogdensburg on the Canadian Pacific Railroad ferry Charles Lyon. From here, the freight cars were attached to a New York Central engine and started south through upstate New York. Five days after coming off the boat from Japan, these valuable bales of raw silk were expected to arrive in New York City.Speed was of the essence in these trips for several reasons, some practical and others clearly financial. The most important of these was the high cost of insurance and bonding that the railroad took out on each shipment which amounted to thousands of dollars a day, often calculated by the hour. There also was the practical matter of the safety of the train and the silk it carried. The railroad looked at each trip as traveling through what they called “a zone of danger” as it passed from point A to point B, with the solution being to travel as quickly as possible. For the silk train, it meant often moving at speeds more than eighty miles an hour with only periodic stops for water and to change out the hard-working steam engines and crews.To expedite these trains, they were put through as a Special, a designation that required all other trains to move aside. These trains were on no schedule, they left Vancouver whenever a ship arrived and then moved as quickly across the continent as conditions allowed. The August 19, 1911, edition of the Plattsburgh Press gave this account of one of these runs:“A million-dollar silk train of eight cars was rushed to Prescott Thursday night after a record-breaking run of four days from Vancouver and no time was lost in getting the cargo ferried across to Ogdensburg where a fresh engine was waiting to rush the valuable cargo down to New York in eighteen hours.”On January 3, 1910, just days after the accident, the Ogdensburg Journal ran a story that suggested that the Canadian Pacific silk train that caused Spencer Trak’s death was in a race to New York with the Union Pacific Railway. It was said that the winner would be given preference in future shipments of raw silk. Harper’s Weekly Magazine in a story that they published on December 4, 1909, reported that winning these contests was “the one important thing to these otherwise unemotional railroad men,” and that they would do everything possible to cut even a few minutes off the time it took to move these trains along their route.No changes concerning the racing of silk trains were ever made after this tragic accident, and the only reported penalty to the railroad was a sixty-thousand-dollar lawsuit that his widow donated to Saratoga charities. By the 1930s the silk trains had been discontinued, due to the dramatic drop in the value of raw silk, and the development of manmade fibers.
The Life and Legacies of Spencer Trask
BY JIM RICHMOND | SPONSORED BY THE SARATOGA COUNTY HISTORY ROUNDTABLE | HISTORY
Spencer Trask at his Yaddo Estate. Photo provided by The Saratoga County History Roundtable.
Spencer Trask awoke on the morning of December 31, 1909 in the last compartment of the last sleeper car on the Montreal Express as it neared New York City on the D&H Railroad line. Getting dressed, his thoughts may have turned to the three passions that dominated his life of 65 years. He did not know then that it would the final day of his eventful life.
Trask was born in 1844 in Brooklyn, the son of Alanson Trask and Sarah Marquand Trask. His early years were immersed in his first passion, to become a successful businessman like his father. Alanson Trask was a New Englander of Puritan stock, descended from a family that arrived in Massachusetts in 1628. Two centuries later, Alanson became the first of the family to move away, settling in New York City. The Trasks were a prominent family of some means, but Alanson took their fortunes to a new level. Investing in a shoe manufacturing business during the Civil War, he became an overnight multi-millionaire by today’s standards, selling shoes and other goods to the Union Army.
Son Spencer entered Princeton in 1862, and upon graduating 4 years later entered the investment banking field. Focusing first on providing venture capital funds to the idea men of the post-Civil War era, he had an uncanny ability to pick winners, most famously backing unknown inventers, such as Thomas Edison. Later he and his firm, Spencer Trask & Co., took on the challenge of rescuing struggling businesses. About to go under, he was among the financiers that saved the New York Times from bankruptcy, becoming President of the newspaper from 1897 to 1906.
By that time, his fortune made, he could indulge his other passions. In 1874 he had married Kate Nichols, daughter of another elite New York family, whose own passions centered around the cultural and literary world. That partnership was to bear fruit in later years. The Yaddo Corporation, first conceived by the Trasks in 1900, opens its doors to members of the artistic community after his death. Authors, painters, sculptors and musicians availed themselves of that restful retreat located in the woodlands near the Saratoga racecourse.
For Spencer and Kate Trask, the decade of the 1880’s was filled with both joy and sorrow. In 1880 their first child, Alanson, named after his grandfather, died at the age of five at their Brooklyn home. Distraught, they made a life changing decision to seek a peaceful place in the country to help them deal with their loss. They were already familiar with the resort town of Saratoga Springs, having visited there during the summer social season. Spencer’s father had retired there and taken up residence in an estate he named ”Ooweekin,” Home of Rest, in the native Iroquois language. In 1881 they leased the former Barhydt estate for the summer. Kate was so enchanted they purchased the 155-acre property for $16,500 the next year. Father and son now owned adjacent retirement estates. Ooweekin was on Nelson Avenue, (later the estate and horse training facility owned by John Hay Whitney), and the soon-to-be named Yaddo on Union Avenue, connected by a road now enveloped by private property south of the NYRA backstretch.
Tragedy struck again in 1888 when daughter Christina and son Spencer, Jr. died of diphtheria they had contracted from their mother Kate, who survived. One year later their fourth child, Katrina died three days after birth. Saddened, but still resilient, they plunged themselves into expanding their estate. When their renovated Queen Anne style home was destroyed by fire in 1891, they immediately set to work to construct the large Gothic style mansion, still the centerpiece of Yaddo today.
During this time, Spencer indulged his third passion – using his resources and influence to address what he saw as the dark side of the Gilded Age. In a town whose life blood was gambling, he railed against it, spending $50,000 and creating his own newspaper, the Saratoga Union to promote his views. When several companies were formed in the 1890’s to extract carbonic gas from the springs – thereby threatening the springs and their park-like surroundings – he swung into action. Trask worked with Governor Hughes to secure passage of the Anti-Pumping Act of 1908, followed by the establishment of the State Reservation in 1909, which was given the authority to purchase the land that was to become the Saratoga Spa State Park.
Trask was appointed to head the three-member commission and it was on Reservation business that he traveled to New York on the last day of 1909. While dressing in his compartment, the train was halted by a signal. A freight train following behind failed to stop and plowed into the passenger train, crushing the last car, and ending the life of this man of many virtues. His legacy lives on in his adopted hometown. Katrina commissioned family friend Daniel Chester French to sculpt the Spirit of Life in Congress Park in his honor, and Yaddo continues to welcome artists to its peaceful grounds.
Jim Richmond is a local independent historian, and the author of two books, “War on the Middleline” and “Milton, New York, A New Town in a New Nation” with co-author Kim McCartney. He is currently researching the early history of today’s Saratoga Spa State Park. Jim is also a founding member of the Saratoga County History Roundtable and can be reached at SaratogaCoHistoryRoundtable@gmail.com
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)
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Last Sunday, when our ship, the Norwegian Joy was docked in Halifax, Nova Scotia, I visited Government House to sign the Memorial Book to Queen Elizabeth. Being in Canada there were few signs of the monarch’s passing except all flags at half staff.
For the first decade of its existence, New Amsterdam was a rough place. Located on the tip of Manhattan Island, it was a haven for pirates and smugglers. Many of the earliest rules and regulations were an attempt to control the unruly citizens of a backwater outpost, but officials proved unable to lay down the law. Intemperate drinking was one of the problems.
In 1640 permission was granted by Willem Kieft, Director of the New Netherland Colony, for liquor to be distilled on Staten Island – in contemporary Dutch: Staaten Eylandt – where what is believed to have been the first commercial distillery in North America was built (today Staten Island is home to the Booze History Museum).
Settlers from the Low Countries distilled a New World version of their native jenever, a grain-based gin with local botanicals like hops and juniper berries. New Amsterdam developed a rich tavern culture – a home away from home. In the same year 1640, Amsterdam city officials first mentioned the name of Pieter Jacobszoon Bols as a distiller on the Rozengracht.
Flemish Legacy
Jenever was first mentioned in Flanders around 1270 by Jacob van Maerlant in Der naturen bloeme (The flower of nature). The tale that Franciscus Sylvius mixed the drink at Leiden University in 1650 as a cure for stomach disorders is a (persistent) myth.
Originally, people used stale beer or waste products from the wine trade to produce their own brandy (in addition to imports from France). By the end of the sixteenth century, home-made distilled brandy (koren brandewijn: burned malt wine), based on distilling a fermented grain wash of barley, rye and malt, was widely imbibed in the Low Countries. The spread of the drink was encouraged by an active intervention policy of the government.
One of the vital herbs added to make the spirit more palatable was the juniper berry (Juniperus communis or “jenever bes”) which gave the spirit its name. At the time, the juniper was a common shrub in the Low Countries and there was a strong belief in its medicinal properties (a cure for pneumonia; burned juniper berries were used to disinfect plague-infected rooms). People soon found out that this “aqua vitae” had not only health-restoring, but also euphoria-inducing qualities. Schnapps is a similar clear distilled spirit that was produced in German-speaking countries.
During the sixteenth century, the relatively tolerant rule of the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V led to the economic and cultural expansion of the Southern Netherlands. Under the dictatorial reign of his son Philip II of Spain who set out to be the “saviour” of Catholic Europe, the Low Countries fell apart. Reports in 1567 that the Duke of Alva’s army was marching towards Antwerp caused an exodus of non-Catholic merchants, artists, printers, publishers, and intellectuals. Brewers too took their skills elsewhere. As most refugees settled in Amsterdam, Haarlem, Leiden, and other northern cities, the process shifted the balance of power. Building on Flemish expertise, the Dutch created a commercial and artistic empire that was unrivaled in Europe.
In 1601, the Archdukes Albrecht and Isabella implemented a ban on distilling in the Spanish Netherlands (which would stay in force for 112 years). The brewers and distillers who had remained were forced to leave their premises. Others had moved away long before, including members of the Antwerp Protestant Bulsius family. Having shortened their name to Bols, they settled in Amsterdam where they founded a distillery outside the city walls in 1575.
By 1640 Pieter Jacobszoon Bols was officially documented as operating a distillery in Amsterdam. He started the production of jenever in 1664. Bols is considered the world’s oldest distilled brand.
Madam Geneva
When Elizabeth I sent troops to assist the Dutch in the war against Spain, English soldiers were stunned by the bravery of local fighters. It was assumed that “Dutch courage” was fired by a potent spirit. English soldiers soon joined the jenever habit. Having anglicized the Dutch word to “genever,” they later transformed it to Geneva (the drink was referred to as “Madam Geneva”).
From Philip Massinger’s play The Duke of Milan (c. 1621/3) we learn that the phrase “in Geneva print” was slang for being drunk. For many, the “un-English” word genever seemed to refer to the Geneva Bible and, by association, to the small roman typeface that was used in the mass produced pocket-bible that Protestant soldiers carried with them. Geneva was eventually shortened to the mono-syllabic word gin.
In August 1689 William III of Orange (“King Billy”) banned all trade between England and France. At the time, French brandy and wines were popular in England and the ban sparked a huge increase in smuggling. Low levels of duty on liquor distilled from malted corn and ciders established by statute in 1690 were introduced in an attempt to encourage native alternatives to French wines. William also promoted the distilling of Dutch jenever as a substitute. Labeled as “Hollands,” it was sold in stoneware bottles.
The Southern Netherlands lifted its distilling ban in 1713. Jenever production began again, re-starting the competition with their ever-expanding counterparts in the north. Britain remained a major export destination. In most English cities, gin was cheap and available on every street corner. Dutch jenever brought about London’s gin addiction.
In 1736, Parliament unsuccessfully tried to stem the flow of gin (and lethal surrogates thereof). The Gin Act caused riots in the streets, but the concern about alcohol abuse remained. The drinking of “Geneva” had become excessive in parts of the population, blamed for destroying the health of many people, and rendering tens of thousands unfit for work.
Gin was the rage of the poor parts of London. At its height there were over 7,000 licensed retailers in a city of 600,000 people, plus thousands more street vendors peddling a spirit far rougher than today’s gin. The availability of so much alcohol proved devastating. William Hogarth’s engraving Gin Lane (1751) is an image of chaos by presenting a mother so drunk that her baby falls from her arms.
Rye Whiskey on Staten Island
To early Dutch pioneers in America brewing figured high on a list of priorities. Around 1633, there appears to have been a brewery amongst the first colonial buildings in New Amsterdam. It was inevitable that Dutch and Flemish distilling skills were put to use from the start.
When Willem Kieft permitted distilling on Staten Island, producers made use of an abundance of rye which they distilled with juniper berries and hops, creating a potent liquor. The making of rye whiskey subsequently became popular in areas of Dutch and Germanic settlement, including the “Pennsylvania Dutch.” Beam, Overholt, and Shenk were all early distillers from the Pennsylvania area who descended from Germanic settlers.
Samuel McHarry’s The Practical Distiller was first published in 1809 and describes the methods for making whiskey from the 1600s onward. The book contains a significant recipe on “How to Make Resemblance of Holland Gin Out of a Rye Whiskey.” Native American Indians acquired a taste for the “Dutch rye” spirit which caused a whiskey war between local inhabitants and incomers. The clash led to destruction of the “Oude Dorp” (Old Town) settlement near what is now South Beach on Staten Island.
The Dutch had a reputation for booziness. The verb itself was derived from the Middle Dutch “busen,” meaning to drink heavily (used in 1590 by Edmund Spenser in his description of “Gluttony” in The Faerie Queene). When in 1647 Peter Stuyvesant was appointed Director-General of New Netherland, he made it his mission to restore law and order by fighting drunkenness. In his first Edict issued in May 1647, he condemned intoxication and prohibited the Sunday sale of alcohol in the colony. Stuyvesant may have been a pioneer of Prohibition, but he was unable to reverse a drinking culture.
New York kept distilling alive, albeit on a modest scale. In the early nineteenth century Hezekiah Pierrepont, a major land developer in Brooklyn, acquired a distillery at the foot of Joralemon Street in Brooklyn Heights and began producing Anchor Gin which, for a while, was distributed widely. By 1819, however, Pierrepont had abandoned the business. Other distilleries included a company headed by William Johnson at 16th Street and 9th Avenue, Manhattan, but punishing taxation made the profitable running of a distillery in New York difficult.
Dutch-speaking Martin Van Buren served as the ninth Governor of New York before, in 1837, becoming the eighth President of the United States. A hard drinker, he was known by the nickname “Blue Whiskey Van.” His favorite tipple, however, was “Schiedam” which he consumed in large quantities. He was not the only one.
At a time of mass migration from the Netherlands and Germany to the United States, demand for “home” spirits rose sharply. An enterprising wine merchant came up with a brand that would entice both immigrant markets.
Schiedam Schnapps in Beaver Street
Grain is jenever’s main ingredient. As a North Sea port located at the mouth of the river Maas, the city of Schiedam profited economically by the handling and processing of grain that was transported from the harvested fields of northern and central Europe.
Schiedam rapidly developed as a distilling hub. Windmills were built close to the port and distilleries (captured in an 1897 lithograph by Joseph Pennell). Botanicals for flavoring were supplied by the Amsterdam-based Dutch East India Company. By exporting jenever worldwide, the city’s name became synonymous with the product.
In 1774, Jewish merchant Benjamin Wolfe moved from Germany to London. Two years later he settled in Richmond, Virginia, served under George Washington, and fought against the British in the War of 1812. Around 1824, his son Joel moved to New York where he established himself as a wine and spirit importer in Beaver Street, Manhattan. His younger brother Udolpho joined him there.
In 1839, the brothers commissioned the Schiedam distillers Blankenheym & Nolet to work on their behalf (the latter had been established in New York since 1691). In 1848, the firm advertised a new brand. Labelled Aromatic Schiedam Schnapps, it was medically endorsed by “chemists and physicians.” Schiedam was promoted as a curative to combat gout, rheumatism, obstruction of the bladder and poor blood circulation.
Wolfe’s Aromatic Schnapps was a phenomenal success. By the 1870s, at least one million bottles were sold around the world. Schiedam was the liquor centre of the world. In 1858, a roasting house was built in the city’s harbor area. Named “New York,” the structure reflected the special (liquid) relationship between the two cities.
When by the 1890s the malt wine industry came under increasing pressure from the competition of jenever produced more cheaply from molasses spirit (made from waste originating from the sugar beet industry), the traditional distillers united in a Brandersbond (Malt Distillers’ Association). The aim of this alliance was to preserve and protect the original distillers’ craft.
Until the late nineteenth century, most American bartenders mixed their cocktails with jenever. During the First World War, Belgian producers were hit when German invaders confiscated the copper stills and used the metal to produce ammunition. Prohibition was a further blow to the producers as the export of jenever to the United States dwindled.
As the Netherlands remained neutral during the World War I, its international trade suffered but the distilling industry survived. World War II changed all that. The Nazi occupation of the Netherlands completely halted production. Post-war competition with more fashionable English gin brands started a “spirit war” in which jenever lost its international appeal. The hangover was severe. It led to the demise of many distilleries in the Low Countries.
NORWEGIAN JOY The design of the artwork is called “Phoenix” and it was visioned by renowned Chinese artist Tan Ping. Featured on the ship hull is an iconic mythical bird which is believed to reign supreme over all birds of the world and is used a lot throughout Chinese culture.
A Little Explanation This ship was built for the Chinese and Asian market in 2017. Due to complications with the Chinese market the ship was renovated and now sails to the US, Canada and other islands. The wonderful hull artwork fascinated me all week and no one could tell me about it on the ship. This joyful piece is the only memory of the shop’s Chinese beginning.
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)
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
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