Contagion of Liberty: Politics of Smallpox in the American Revolution
Inoculation, a shocking procedure introduced to America by an enslaved African, became the most sought-after medical procedure of the eighteenth century. The difficulty lay in providing it to all Americans and not just the fortunate few. Across the colonies, poor Americans rioted for equal access to medicine, while cities and towns shut down for quarantines. In Marblehead, Massachusetts, sailors burned down an expensive private hospital just weeks after the Boston Tea Party.
The Revolutionary War broke out during a smallpox epidemic, and in response, General George Washington ordered the inoculation of the Continental Army. But Washington did not have to convince fearful colonists to protect themselves against smallpox ― they were the ones demanding it.
In The Contagion of Liberty: The Politics of Smallpox in the American Revolution (Johns Hopkins Univ. Press, 2022) Andrew M. Wehrman describes a revolution within a revolution, where the violent insistence for freedom from disease ultimately helped American colonists achieve independence from Great Britain.
The Contagion of Liberty is a timely and fascinating account of the raucous public demand for smallpox inoculation during the American Revolution and the origin of vaccination in the United States.
This thought-provoking history offers a new dimension to our understanding of both the American Revolution and the origins of public health in the United States. The miraculous discovery of vaccination in the early 1800s posed new challenges that upended the revolutionaries’ dream of disease eradication, and Wehrman reveals that the quintessentially American rejection of universal health care systems has deeper roots than previously known.
During a time when some of the loudest voices in the United States are those clamoring against efforts to vaccinate, this richly documented book will appeal to anyone interested in the history of medicine and politics, or who has questioned government action (or lack thereof) during a pandemic.
Andrew Wehrman is a historian, writer, and associate professor of history at Central Michigan University. He received his Ph.D. from Northwestern University, and M.A.T. and B.A. from the University of Arkansas. He previously taught at Marietta College in Marietta, Ohio. His research and teaching focuses on Colonial and Revolutionary America and the history of medicine, disease, and public health. In addition to the book, The Contagion of Liberty, Wehrman has written articles for The Washington Post, The Boston Globe, and NBC News among others.
From Joseph Ellicott’s arrival in Buffalo and his radical radial street grid, through the role played by Frederick Law Olmsted and his unique parks and parkways, this book reveals the stories of those who created a neighborhood using Olmsted’s blueprint for gracious living. It also follows the devastating 50-year decline that boarded up mansions and emptied the rust belt city, reducing it to a shadow of its Gilded Age size and prominence.
Olmsted’s Elmwood looks at how the Elmwood District, now on the National Register of Historic Places, survived intact until the desire for walkable neighborhoods and its passionate residents sparked the renewal that is underway today. The authors suggest that Elmwood be considered a model for America’s cities, and look into the neighborhood’s future as it grapples with growth.
Buffalo native and historic preservation architect Clinton Brown, FAIA, founded Clinton Brown Company Architecture, Buffalo, which successfully nominated the Elmwood Historic District for the National Register of Historic Places.
Ramona Pando Whitaker is an ardent preservationist in her adopted hometown of Buffalo, New York, and a professional editor.
Book Purchases made through this Amazon link support the New York Almanack’s mission to report new publications relevant to New York State. Books noticed on the New York Almanack have been provided by their publishers.
Washington’s Revenge: The 1777
New Jersey
In late August 1776, a badly defeated Continental Army retreated from Long Island to Manhattan. By early November, George Washington’s inexperienced army withdrew further into New Jersey and, by the end of the year, into Pennsylvania. During this dark night of the American Revolution — “the times that try men’s souls” — Washington began developing the strategy that would win the war.
During his retreat across New Jersey, Washington reconceived the war: keep the army mobile, target isolated detachments of the British Army, rely on surprise and deception, form partisan units, and avoid large-scale battles. This new strategy first bore fruit in the crossing of the Delaware on Christmas night 1776 and the attack on the British at Trenton and Princeton.
From there, Washington took up winter quarters at Morristown, New Jersey, and moved into the mountains, an ideal position from which to check British movements toward Philadelphia or north up the Hudson. The British tried and failed several times to coax Washington into a decisive battle.
Stymied, the British were forced to attack Philadelphia by sea, and they would not be able to seize Philadelphia in time to support the British invasion of upstate New York which ended in defeat at Saratoga.
Arthur Lefkowitz is an independent historian whose previous books are The Long Retreat, the Calamitous Defense of New Jersey; The American Turtle Submarine, The Best Kept Secret of the American Revolution; George Washington’s Indispensable Men, The 32 Aides-de-Camp Who Helped Win American Independence; Benedict Arnold’s Army, The 1775 American Invasion of Canada During the Revolutionary War; Eyewitness Images from the American Revolution; Benedict Arnold in the Company of Heroes, The Lives of the Extraordinary Patriots Who Followed Arnold to Canada; and Colonel Hamilton and Colonel Burr, The Revolutionary War Lives of Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr. He lives in New Jersey.
The Revolutionary: Samuel
Adams
Thomas Jefferson asserted that if there was any leader of the American Revolution, “Samuel Adams was the man.” With high-minded ideals and bare-knuckle tactics, Adams led what could be called the greatest campaign of civil resistance in American history. Adams amplified the Boston Massacre and helped to mastermind the Boston Tea Party.
He employed every tool available to rally a town, a colony, and eventually a band of colonies behind him, creating the cause that created a country. For his efforts he became the most wanted man in America: When Paul Revere rode to Lexington in 1775, it was to warn Samuel Adams that he was about to be arrested for treason. Despite his celebrated status among America’s founding fathers as a revolutionary leader however, Samuel Adams’ life and achievements have been largely overshadowed in history books.
In The Revolutionary: Samuel Adams (Little, Brown and Co., 2022), Stacy Schiff examines Adams’ life, including his transformation from the listless, failing son of a wealthy family into the tireless, silver-tongued revolutionary who rallied the likes of John Hancock and John Adams behind him. Schiff returns Adams to his seat of glory, introducing us to the shrewd and eloquent man who supplied the moral backbone of the American Revolution.
Poor Richard’s Women: An
Intimate Portrait of Benjamin
Franklin
Everyone knows Benjamin Franklin — the thrifty inventor-statesman of the Revolutionary era — but not about his love life. The most prominent among them was Deborah Read Franklin, his common-law wife and partner for 44 years.
Long dismissed by historians, she was an independent, politically savvy woman and devoted wife who raised their children, managed his finances, and fought off angry mobs at gunpoint while he traipsed about England.
The new book Poor Richard’s Women: An Intimate Portrait of Benjamin Franklin (Beacon Press, 2022) by Nancy Rubin Stuart looks at the long-neglected voices of the women Ben Franklin loved and lost during his lifelong struggle between passion and prudence.
Weaving detailed historical research with emotional intensity and personal testimony, Nancy Rubin Stuart traces Deborah’s life and those of Ben Franklin’s other romantic attachments through their personal correspondence.
The reader is introduced to Margaret Stevenson, the widowed landlady who managed Ben’s life in London; Catherine Ray, the 23-year-old New Englander with whom he traveled overnight and later exchanged passionate letters; Madame Brillon, the beautiful French musician who flirted shamelessly with him, and the witty Madame Helvetius, who befriended the philosophes of pre-Revolutionary France and brought Ben to his knees.
Set two centuries before the rise of feminism, Poor Richard’s Women depicts the feisty, often-forgotten women dear to Ben’s heart who, despite obstacles, achieved an independence rarely enjoyed by their peers in that era.
Nathaniel and Victoria Koplik are thrilled at the wonderful holiday windows designed by Melanie Colter (right) The windows are on view in Rivercross thru December 31st.
THURSDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY
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WEDNESDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY MEDICAL RESIDENTS IN FRONT OF CITY HOSPITAL BLACKWELL’S ISLAND, EARLY 1900’S
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
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American photographer Marion Post Wolcott (1910-1990).
Early lifeMarion Post was born in Montclair, New Jersey on June 7, 1910, to Marion (née Hoyt; known as “Nan”) and Walter Post, a physician.[1][2] She grew up in the family home in Bloomfield, the younger of two daughters in the Post family.[3] Her parents divorced when she was thirteen and she was sent to boarding school, spending time at home with her mother in Greenwich Village when not at school.[4] Here she met many artists and musicians and became interested in dance. She studied at The New School.Post trained as a teacher, and went to work in a small town in Massachusetts. Here she saw the reality of the Depression and the problems of the poor. When the school closed she went to Europe to study with her sister Helen. Helen was studying with Trude Fleischmann, a Viennese photographer. Marion Post showed Fleischmann some of her photographs and was told to stick to photography.
CareerWhile in Vienna she saw some of the Nazi attacks on the Jewish population and was horrified. Soon she and her sister had to return to America for safety. She went back to teaching but also continued her photography and became involved in the anti-fascist movement. At the New York Photo League she met Ralph Steiner and Paul Strand who encouraged her. When she found that the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin kept sending her to do “ladies’ stories”, Ralph Steiner took her portfolio to show Roy Stryker, head of the Farm Security Administration, and Paul Strand wrote a letter of recommendation. Stryker was impressed by her work and hired her immediately.Post’s photographs for the FSA often explore the political aspects of poverty and deprivation. They also often find humour in the situations she encountered.In 1941 she met Leon Oliver Wolcott, deputy director of war relations for the U. S. Department of Agriculture under Franklin Roosevelt. They married, and Marion Post Wolcott continued her assignments for the FSA, but resigned shortly thereafter in February 1942. Wolcott found it difficult to fit in her photography around raising a family and a great deal of traveling and living overseas.[5]In the 1970s, a renewed interest in Post Wolcott’s images among scholars rekindled her own interest in photography. In 1978, Wolcott mounted her first solo exhibition in California, and by the 1980s the Smithsonian and the Metropolitan Museum of Art began to collect her photographs. The first monograph on Marion Post Wolcott’s work was published in 1983.[6] Wolcott was an advocate for women’s rights; in 1986, Wolcott said: “Women have come a long way, but not far enough. . . . Speak with your images from your heart and soul” (Women in Photography Conference, Syracuse, N.Y.).[5]Post Wolcott’s work is archived at the Library of Congress and the Center for Creative Photography at the University of Arizona in Tucson, Arizona.[7]
DeathPost Wolcott died of lung cancer in Santa Barbara, California, on November 24, 1990.[1]
Hog killing Halifax County Marion Post Wolcott 1939.jpeg“Hog killing on Milton Puryeur place; He is a Negro owner of five acres of land; Rural Route No. 1, Box 59, Dennison, Halifax County, Virginia; This is six miles south [on Highway No. 501] of South Boston; He used to grow tobacco and cotton but now just a subsistence living; These hogs belong to a neighbor landowner; He burns old shoes and pieces of leather near the heads of the slaughtered hogs while they are hanging to keep the flies away.” Photograph by Marion Post Wolcott from the U.S. Farm Security Administration, courtesy of the New York Public Library Digital Collection
Dymaxion House – LOC 8c14948v.jpgHistoric photograph of the Diamaxion (Dymaxion) house, metal, adapted corn bin, built by Butler Brothers, Kansas City. Designed and promoted by R. Buckminister Fuller. Kansas City, Missouri, USA, from the Library of Congress. Wolcott, Marion Post, 1910-1990, photographer; created 1941 May for the U.S. Farm Security Administration / Office of War Information. This photograph is in the public domain because it was created by the United States Government.
No beer sold to indians.jpgBirney, Montana. August 1941.”People who came to Saturday night dance around the bar.”Bar has a sign that reads “POSITIVELY NO BEER SOLD TO INDIANS”
Tony Bacinos NOLA 1941 MPWolcott.jpg French Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana, 1941. “Old buildings in New Orleans, Louisiana”Shows Bourbon Street; Tony Bacino’s bar at right was at downtown river corner with Toulouse Street.
WEDNESDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY
TUESDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY
The Harriet Tubman Memorial, also known as Swing Low,[1] located in Manhattan in New York City, honors the life of abolitionistHarriet Tubman.[2] The intersection at which it stands was previously a barren traffic island, and is now known as “Harriet Tubman Triangle”.[1][3] As part of its redevelopment, the traffic island was landscaped with plants native to New York and to Tubman’s home state of Maryland, representing the land which she and her Underground Railroad passengers travelled across.[3]
The statue depicts Tubman striding forward despite roots pulling on the back of her skirt; these represent the roots of slavery. Her skirt is decorated with images representing the former slaves who Tubman assisted to escape. The base of the statue features illustrations representing moments from Tubman’s life, alternated with traditional quilting symbols.[1]
In 2004, the traffic island and the statue received a Public Design Commission Award for Excellence in Design.
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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“Obvious Delight” with Jefferson Market Courthouse
EPHEMERAL NEW YORK
As a prolific painter living on Washington Place and working out of a high-floor studio at West Fourth Street, John Sloan had a wonderful window into the heart of the Greenwich Village of the 1910s—its small shops, bohemian haunts, immigrant festivals, and all the life and activity of the elevated trains up and down Sixth Avenue.
He also had a view of Jefferson Market Courthouse. Once the site of a fire tower and market that opened in 1832, the Victorian Gothic courthouse with its signature clock tower replaced the original structures at Sixth Avenue and 10th Street in 1877.Like contemporary New Yorkers, he seemed to be enchanted by the Courthouse, which functions today as a New York Public Library branch. He was so entranced by it, Sloan put it in several of his works, either as the main subject or off to the side.[“Jefferson Market, Sixth Avenue,” 1917]
[“Sixth Avenue El at Third Street,” 1928]”Sloan obviously delighted in the irregular rooftop patterns and the spires of several other structures beyond, contrasting the soaring tower and the gables of the courthouse with the swift rush of the Sixth Avenue elevated railroad below,” explained William H. Gerdts in his 1994 book, Impressionist New York.His interest wasn’t just in the building’s architectural value. Sloan, a keen observer of what he described as New York City’s “drab, shabby, happy, sad, and human life,” regularly visited the notorious night court there to witness the human drama that appeared before judges—men and women typically brought in for drunkenness, prostitution, and petty crime.
[“Jefferson Market Jail, Night,” 1911]”This is much more stirring to me in every way than the great majority of plays. Tragedy-comedy,” he said about the night court, per Gerdts’ book.”Sloan was obviously drawn to the building’s. picturesque mass as well as its physical and symbolic situation with Greenwich Village, and no other New York structure, not even the Flatiron Building, enjoyed such distinctive monumental rendering by him,” wrote Gerdts.“Snowstorm in the Village,” an etching from 1925, shows Jefferson Market Courthouse’s gables and turrets covered in snow and is worth a look here.[Top image: Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts; second image: Whitney Museum; third image: paintingstar.com]
VISIT OUR TABLE AT THE POP-UP SALE ON SATURDAY, DEC. 10TH, 546 MAIN STREET 9 A.M. TO 5 P.M.
CORNICE OF SMALLPOX HOSPITAL RUIN NOT MUCH HAS CHANGED FOR THE BETTER SINCE THIS PHOTO WAS TAKEN IN 2011 ARON EISENPREISS 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
OUR ANNUAL WINDOW DISPLAY IS NOW ON VIEW IN THE RIVERCROSS DISPLAY WINDOW.
CAN YOU GUESS HOW MANY OWLS ARE FEATURED IN THE DISPLAYS? THANKS TO MELANIE COLTER, GLORIA HERMAN AND JUDY BERDY FOR BRINGING THIS CHEERFUL HOLIDAY TRADITION BACK THIS YEAR.
CAN YOU IDENTIFY THE TYPES OF OWLS IN OUR WINDOW DISPLAY?
*THESE ARE REPRODUCTION “STUFFED” OWL TOYS FROM DOUGLAS CO. AND ARE REPRESENTATIONS OF ACTUAL OWLS.
ORIGINAL SITE SURVEY FOR R.I. TRAM, APPROXIMATELY 1972
IN MEMORY OF RUTH BERDY DEC. 5, 1917- MAY 23, 2012
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)
CREDITS MELANIE COLTER, GLORIA HERMAN, JUDITH BERDY – PHOTOS DOUGLAS COMPANY PLUSH TOYS
THIS PUBLICATION IS FUNDED BY:CITY COUNCIL REPRESENTATIVE JULE MENIN AND DISCRETIONARY FUNDING THRU DYCD
Lexicographer Eric Partridge was an intriguing figure. Born in New Zealand, he was educated in Queensland, Australia, served in the First World War and finished his studies at Balliol College, Oxford. He would spent the rest of his life in Britain, working as a researcher and lecturer. The Library of the British Museum (now: British Library) became his second home. Always seated at the same desk (K1), he produced numerous books on the English language.
A surprising aspect of this unassuming man’s career was his interest in slang and offbeat language (which apparently was rooted in his wartime experiences), culminating in 1937 with the publication of a Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English. From this rich offering of linguistic treasures, many words have been “dropped” over time or changed their original meaning.
We tend to assume today that because of social media new (slang) terms are transmitted around the world in record time. That may be true. Etymologists, however, have always been aware of the swift introduction, spread and passing of such words. One of those is “scorcher.” Once a hotly debated Anglo-American concept of the 1890s, the term quickly lost its relevance (its present meaning is entirely different) and was not included in Partridge’s Dictionary.
Reckless Riders
Nineteenth century social commentators were deeply concerned that the noxious conditions and pressures of city-life would lead to a decline in bodily and mental health. Social Darwinists fanned fears that a horde of degenerates was dragging down civilized society into biological decay. The “survival of the un-fittest” was a peril that had to be confronted. Sport, gymnastics and out-of-door activities provided one solution in the battle for regeneration.
Cycling was seen as an exertion that benefited the emerging dogma of exercise. It offered physical well-being and spiritual refreshment to unhealthy and fatigued (middle-class) city dwellers. Physicians stressed the bike’s curative powers. Pushing the pedals – they claimed – improves digestion; strengthens muscles and heart; reduces rheumatism, gout or hernia; lessens obesity; and calms the nerves.
The rage for cycling had its opponents too. In Britain, the “outrage” of uncontrolled bikers was widely discussed in the press. Critics hated the presence of such maniacs on public roads. One adversary sent a letter to The Times of London (1892), in which he described a group of scorchers descending a hill “like a horde of Apaches or Sioux Indians, conches shrieking and bells going; and woe betide the luckless man or aught else coming in their way.”
The emotionally loaded term spread fast. A scorcher was a cyclist who rode his/her bike aggressively at high speed in public spaces risking crashes with fellow riders, pedestrians or other users of the road. Since bicycles of the day either had either no or else poor brakes, accidents were reported frequently. A scorcher was a reckless two-wheeled speed merchant.
By November 1895 the word had crossed the Atlantic when an indignant reader of the New York Times submitted a letter of complaint to the editor about the hazard of cyclists racing each other on Manhattan’s streets, sidewalks and avenues. Hoodlums ‘scorching … with heads down’ were a menace to pedestrians.
The Upper West Side was particularly popular with competing cyclists. From Columbus Circle to Grant’s Tomb on Riverside Drive, the district’s broad avenues were packed with riders who turned the roads into makeshift velodromes. New York’s pedestrians demanded protection and stricter law enforcement. The presence of scorchers, not just young males but ‘wild’ women as well, had to be curtailed.
The bike was a symbol of the New Woman, an agent for change and a tool of emancipation. Riding a bike was a statement of self-reliance and independence. As traditional dress hampered free movement, outfits were adjusted and streamlined, infuriating traditionalists. Women on wheels wearing bloomers and skimpy garments were accused of outraging public decency. Calling a woman bicyclist a scorcher had profoundly negative and sexist connotations.
Health warnings were issued to women who had fallen for the ‘wheeling’ mania. Cycling, it was suggested, came at a price. Young women risked losing their femininity by developing a “Bicycle Face” (flushed face with dark circles under bulging eyes). Medical magazines and popular press reports raised warnings about the danger of infertility. To hard-line moralists the bicycle seat spelled loose morals which, in the worst cases, would lead to prostitution.
The criticism of female bicyclists as rebellious and unrespectable diminished by the mid-1890s as more and more women took to the road. The trend is reflected in a number of songs that during the decade were inspired by lady scorchers in particular (ragtime was the perfect genre to reflect the biker’s rhythmic movement).
Scorcher Squad
On January 1st, 1895, Republican politician William Lafayette Strong was appointed New York City’s 90th Mayor. A reform-minded leader, he invited Theodore Roosevelt to take on the role of Police Commissioner with a brief to eliminate corruption amongst the ranks and make the police department a more professional unit. William Strong’s choice of candidate was well-considered. Roosevelt had served the previous six years on the Civil Service Commission fighting favoritism and nepotism in federal nominations.
For Roosevelt this appointment was an opportunity to impose his presence in the political arena. Cleaning up New York would strengthen his political clout. During his two-year spell as Police Commissioner, he set out to implement a series of structural reforms and innovations.
As President of the Board of Commissioners, he shook up the police force by enforcing regular inspections of firearms, appointing recruits based on their physical and mental suitability rather than political affiliation, closing corrupt stations and introducing a range of service awards and medals. He was also the first official to employ a female member of police staff.
During his tenure in New York, Roosevelt’s right-hand man was a former military man named Avery Delano Andrews. The latter was also a cycling enthusiast. Concerned about the long hours and heavy workload that officers had to face in an ever-expanding city, he suggested to put policemen on bicycles to quicken up response time and release the fatigue caused by lengthy foot patrols.
Roosevelt was initially skeptical about the idea, but in the end the Board relented and agreed to begin a trial period with a squad of four officers on bikes, all of them former champions or experienced cyclists. The officers wore uniforms with eye-catching yellow leggings, nautical caps and long (winter) coats. They were instructed to reel in and fine “scorchers,” chase down drunk drivers, guide traffic where needed and protect female cyclists (even if in bloomers) from insults and cat calls.
The squad was led by Brooklyn-born Charles Minthorn Murphy. A record-holding cyclist, he was the first person to race a mile in less than a minute. The feat took place between Farmingdale and Babylon on Long Island on June 30th, 1899. He finished the distance 57.8 seconds, a time he achieved by slip-streaming behind a railroad boxcar. Acknowledged as the world’s fastest man on wheels, he became known as Charles “Mile a Minute” Murphy.
The policing trial proved to be a resounding success. The squad was so effective that their numbers increased rapidly. In his 1913 Autobiography Theodore Roosevelt looked back with admiration to the achievements of his Bicycle Squad officers, praising them for their “extraordinary proficiency on the wheel” in the battle against scorchers and other law breakers.
King of Speed
As cycling became regulated and a start was made with the laying out of designated bike lanes (the six-mile long Ocean Parkway from Prospect Park, Brooklyn, to Coney Island was the first of such paths where scorchers would be stopped and fined for speeding), the Squad’s days were numbered. With the arrival of the automobile on the streets of New York, the passion for pace moved from bike to car. The career of one young immigrant encapsulates that change.
On May 20th, 1905, a car race took place at the old Hippodrome in Morris Park, Bronx, in which two renowned drivers named Barney Oldfield and Walter Christie took part. Their presence was overshadowed by a young man driving a ninety-horse powered Fiat who sped around the track at sixty-eight miles per hour, barely slowing down at the curves and taking unbelievable risks. His name was Louis Chevrolet.
Born in December 1878 in La Chaux-de-Fonds, a clock-making centre in the Swiss canton of Neuchâtel, his father’s skill as a watchmaker may have inspired his passion for mechanics and precision engineering. Hit by economic setbacks the large family moved to Beaune, a small town in the Burgundy region of France, when Louis was a child.
Times remained difficult for the family and Louis left school at eleven to take up a job at a local bicycle factory. The job sparked his interest in building and handling speed machines. In 1895, Chevrolet enrolled in the town’s bicycle racing association and success ensued almost immediately. For three years he showed a fierce competitive spirit, clinching numerous victories on the track, earning some much needed prize money to help his struggling family and, at the same time, celebrating a French public obsession with bike racing that Ernest Hemingway in A Moveable Feast would describe as the “driving purity of speed.”
When he was offered a job at the Darracq automobile company near Paris, he did not hesitate to grasp the opportunity. It was his first step towards a dazzling career. Louis moved to New York to work for the French De Dion-Bouton Motorette Company which, located in Brooklyn, began manufacturing cars under license in 1901. The venture was in operation for only one year, but Louis was soon given the opportunity to drive a racing car for Fiat in New York. Between 1905 and 1910, Chevrolet amassed a string of triumphs and records.
His “heroic” driving fame caught the attention of William Durant, the owner of the Buick Company and founder of General Motors in 1908. Louis opened up his first garage in Detroit in 1909 and a year later he partnered with Durant to design his first car. The rest is – as they say – history. The Chevy became an American icon. Chevrolet’s place among racing legends and car makers was secured in 1969 when he was elected to the Automotive Hall of Fame.
Addiction to time was a by-product of the technological explosion of the late nineteenth century. Our obsession with speed began on a bicycle and was intensified with the arrival of motor vehicles. Modernism moved on wheels. Chevrolet and other racing drivers exploited the might of the machine by clocking fast and faster times. Henry Ford’s assembly line increased the pace of production by cutting the completion span of a car from twelve hours to ninety-three minutes. The clock became society’s Supreme Leader.
QUEEN LATIFAH AND STARS OF THE EQUALIZER OUTSIDE COLER WHERE THEY ARE FILMING AN EPISODE OF THE SHOW. NINA LUBLIN 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
NEW YORK ALMANACK
JAAP HARSKAMP
THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
The MTA arts collection just got bigger! New public art installations by famous names such as Yayoi Kusama and Kiki Smith will adorn the soon-to-open Cultural Corridor in Grand Central Madison, the LIRR terminal below Grand Central Terminal. The highly anticipated opening of the corridor is set to take place this month, and the new art installations make it even that much more exciting.
Internationally renowned artist Yayoi Kusama’s glass mosaic piece will bring a shock of color to the Madison Concourse level between 46th and 47th Streets. Titled A Message of Love, Directly from My Heart unto the Universe (2022), the vibrant work measures 120 feet wide by 7 feet tall, for a total coverage area of approximately 875 square feet. “This new, flowing composition, originating from her extensive body of My Eternal Soul paintings spills energy and joy out into the Grand Central Madison passageway. The mural is a journey itself, inspiring incredible moments as you walk along the grand mosaic artwork,” explained Sandra Bloodworth, Director, MTA Arts & Design.
Kiki Smith is another famous artist that will be featured in the new eastside corridor. Smith’s work will be spread throughout the corridor in various locations. The pieces are titled River Light, The Water’s Way, The Presence, The Spring, and The Sound (2022). Smith’s artwork brings a little bit of the outdoors into the underground terminal space. Like much of her work since the 1980s, these mosaics, which appear throughout two levels of the corridor, draw inspiration from a number of sources “spanning scientific anatomical renderings from the eighteenth century to the abject imagery of relics, memento mori, folklore, mythology, Byzantine iconography, and medieval altarpieces.”
THURSDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY COTY PERFUME SHOPE LATER THE HENRI BENDEL STORE NOW VACANT NOTICE THE LALIQUE UPPER FLOOR WINDOWS
FROM JAY JACOBSON: Looks like the famous Fifth Avenue headquarters of Henri Bendel. Was the address 714 Fifth Avenue? Andy Sparberg also got it right!
Is there a location to be shared with your pizza story? Some things are really worth sharing!! RAILYARD PIZZA, 51-02 Northern Blvd. Sunnyside, NY WEBSITE: ttps://www.therailyardpizza.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 Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
UNTAPPED NEW YORK
THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
THE HIDDEN SILVER CARTIER PLANE AT ROCKEFELLER CENTER
UNTAPPED NEW YORK
Cartier is well known for its watches and fine jewelry, but the French luxury goods company has used precious metals to make more than just accessories. Sitting in the lobby of 610 Fifth Avenue at Rockefeller Center is one of those other objects, a shiny sterling silver Cartier plane model. The miniature aircraft was fabricated by Cartier silversmiths in Paris and gifted to Rockefeller Center by the French government in 1933
The silver Cartier plane is a to-scale reproduction of Le Point d’Interrogation, or “Question Mark” in English. Le Point d’Interrogation was a Breguet Br. 19 TF Super Bidon (super tank) made by a French aeronautics company. It was specifically designed for long-distance journeys. The plane had two wings – the top of which was larger and spanned just over 60 feet – a single engine, and two fuel tanks. It was painted a bright red and adorned with a large white question mark. In September 1930, French aviators Dieudonné Costes and Maurice Bellonte made history by flying the plane on the first nonstop, transatlantic flight from Paris to New York City.
Costes and Bellonte’s flight took a total of 37 hours, 18 minutes, and 30 seconds to complete. They took off from Aéroport de Paris – Le Bourget and landed in Curtiss Field in Valley Stream, New York. Their route was a reverse of that taken by Charles Lindbergh in 1927 on his record-setting flight. Lindbergh departed from Roosevelt Field in New York and landed in Paris. When Le Point d’Interrogation landed in New York, Lindbgerh was among the 25,000 onlookers and bearers of congratulations.There are a few reasons why the airplane was referred as “Question Mark” (it was also called Le Rouge, or “the red one” for it’s bright paint job). It likely stems from the secrecy which surrounded the plane. Secrets of Rockefeller Center tour guide and Untapped New Yorker’s Chief Experience Officer Justin Rivers says one of plane’s sponsors was anonymous. The mystery donor turned out to be Francois Coty of the Coty fragrance company. This theory brings the story of the plane full circle back to Rockefeller Center, since Francois Coty’s perfume emporium was located at 714 Fifth Avenue (former site of Henri Bendel), just a few blocks from Rockefeller Center, while Cartier‘s flagship is just across the street.
Memorial Flight, the company that restored the original plane from 1997 to 2002, says “Question Mark” was a nickname that mechanics working on the plane used due to the covert conditions they had to work under. Another reason put forth for the name is that the innovative, and therefore yet untested, technology put into the plane could have had…questionable results.
A plaque next to the silver Cartier plane model in the Rockefeller Center lobby notes that it is “scientifically correct in every detail.” Though much smaller than the real “Question Mark,” this sculptural form is not that tiny. It measures 28 1/2 inches in overall length, stretches 48 inches from wing-tip to wing-tip, and reaches 10 1/2 inches in height. It is clearly adorned with the signature question mark of Le Point d’Interrogation and, if you look closely, you can see it is also engraved with all of the insignia and destinations that were painted onto the real plane.
The plaque also states that the model was a gift “for La Maison Francaise,” the building at 610 Fifth Avenue where it still sits today. La Maison Francaise is part of Rockefeller Center’s International Complex which is comprised of the British Empire Building and an International Building, along with the French one. It was a hub for French companies, though over time other various tenants moved in.
Cartier’s ties to aviation go beyond this one foray into model airplane building. It was a pilot who inspired one of Cartier’s signature pieces, the Santos de Cartier men’s wristwatch. This simple square watch was designed by Louis Cartier in 1904 for aviator Alberto Santos-Dumont, and is considered one of the earliest modern wristwatches and first pilot’s watch. Men usually carried pocket watches at the time, but fumbling around in a pocket and digging out a watch on a chain was not very conducive to flying planes. The Santos De Cartier watch is defined by its clean square face and exposed screws.
The original Le Point d’Interrogation is now on display in the Musée de l’Air and de l’Espace. The aircraft was gifted to the museum in 1938. The Cartier version of the plane can be seen in the black and grey lobby of 610 Rockefeller Center. See the plane and uncover more secrets of Rockefeller Center (including secret gardens, a room covered in gold, and more!) on Untapped New York’s walking tour of the iconic Art Deco site!
MAISON FRANCAIS, 610 FIFTH AVENUE
THURSDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY SEND YOUR RESPONSE TO: ROOSEVELTISLANDHISTORY@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 Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
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UNTAPPED NEW YORK
THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
A TRIBUTE TO THE WOMEN OF IRAN AT THE FDR FOUR FREEDOMS STATE PARK
THE 846th EDITION
HILLARY CLINTON SALUTES IRAN’S WOMEN ON THE ISLAND
Former US Secretary Of State And NY Senator Hillary Clinton Visited Roosevelt Island FDR Four Freedoms Park Today To Support Opening Of Eyes On Iran, Woman Life Freedom Art Exhibit
A NEW LIFE FOR A FORMER TROLLEY BARN.
After shopping at Dollar Tree on Northern Blvd., I was in need of lunch.. With three loaded shopping bags I headed for the closest place for lunch. It was THE RAIL YARD pizzeria, just across the parking lot.
Located in the former site of a Pizza Hut, this locally owned neighborhood pizzeria had a neighborhood feel. Jimmy, the owner was schmoozing with the patrons and the Coca Cola salesman when I arrived. He seemed to know every person who entered and it was fun to be in a real neighborhood joint.
We discussed trolley cars and the RIHS trolley car kiosk along with local Sunnyside history. Jimmy has been a lifelong resident and we had a fun time while I had a slice and Diet Coke.
Jimmy told me that he acquired the spot in 2020 and it took a year to restore the brickwork and other elements from the original use as a trolley barn. Only the tower of the barn remains but the decor of old photos and real bricks and beams bring back the old days of trolley cars traversing Northern Blvd.
Time to return to the island after a fun trip to historic Queens.
Judy and Jimmy at a photo composite mural of Northern Blvd. in the 1910’s
Trolleys were not Jay Gatsby’s speed as he raced his yellow roadster along Northern Blvd. past a cathedral-like structure with imposing twin spires. The Cathedral-like structure was the Woodside carbarn.
The Woodside carbarn, located at the southwest corner of Newtown Avenue and Northern Blvd, was built by the New York & Queens County Railway at a cost of $150,000. The New York & Queens County, about to acquire Steinway Lines Railway in 1896, was in need of carbarn facilities with enough space to house trolleys of both New York & Queens County and Steinway Lines. The Woodside carbarn was the largest carbarn in Queens.
When the New York & Queens County and Steinway Lines Railway (reorganized as the New York & Queens Railway), went bankrupt in 1922, and lost control of the Steinway Lines, the Woodside carbarn continued to house Trolleys of both New York & Queens and Steinway Lines. An oddity of that arrangement was that the Calvary Cemetery Line, (now MTA Q67 bus), not directly connected to other New York & Queens routes, thus needed permission from its Former subsidiary, Steinway Lines, to use its tracks for carbarn moves.
The Woodside carbarn fire
On June 24, 1930, a disastrous fire occurred at the Woodside carbarn (below). The blaze broke out during the night and caused tremendous damage. One Steinway Lines revenue car #629, plus one workcar, were destroyed.
The New York & Queens suffered far more damage: 24 of the older wooden ‘300’ series cars, and 10 of the modern Birney Safety Cars were destroyed along with some others. The whole east end of the carbarn had been gutted out and beyond repair (below, left). The blackened wall was torn down and what was once an enclosed space was made into an open space. The fire crippled New York & Queens lines as only 25 cars were left to maintain service. In its dire need, New York & Queens rented cars from the Jamaica Central Railway and the Department of Plant structures. By a stroke of good luck, 2 newly bought cars from the defunct Auburn & Syracuse Railway lying in the yard waiting for painting, escaped unscathed. The New York & Queens pressed these cars into service the very next morning with their old colors and numbers unchanged. Without these cars the New York & Queens could not have maintained service.
Looked at from the perspective of years the carbarn fire was not a complete disaster. Thirty-eight of the burnt-out cars were old and worn and due for replacement anyway. The fire hastened the process and helped the riding public get newer and faster equipment. The New York & Queens sustained barely any financial losses, for the insurance on the burnt cars came to $104,483, a big sum that came in handy for buying equipment and roadbed materials.
From Carbarn to Shopping Center
With the coming of the automobile and the development of a practical motor coach by the thirties, the days of trolley operators in Queens as well as elsewhere were numbered. Jamaica Central Railway in central Queens converted to Jamaica Buses in 1933. On October 3, 1937, old #332 made the final run on the Calvary Line, then was taken to the Woodside carbarn, where it was soaked in gasoline and set on fire to the sound of Taps. Thus old #332, as well as New York & Queens Railway trolley service went out in a blaze of glory.
Orange-and-cream Queens-Nassau Transit buses (a New York & Queens subsidiary) replaced the trolleys. The year 1939 marked the end of trolleys being housed in the Woodside carbarn when Steinway Lines replaced its trolleys with orange-and-cream Steinway Omnibus buses. The former Woodside carbarn soldiered on as a bus garage for Queens-Nassau Transit until 1957, when it moved its bus facilities to College Point and became Queens Transit. At the same time Steinway Omnibus became Steinway Transit and also moved to College Point.
Today, the site of the former Woodside carbarn is occupied by the Tower Square shopping center. The front facade of the former carbarn with its imposing twin spires has been preserved as the front entrance to the shopping center. Sadly, the Maspeth Depot didn’t enjoy a similar fate, being obliterated by the LIE in 1952.
WEDNESDAY PHOTOS OF THE DAY FROM TRASH TO CLASS
THE FIRST RED TRASH CAN TO BE REHABILITATED AND RESTORED HAS BEEN RETURNED TO MAIN STREET. THESE TRASH CANS ARE MADE OF STRONG STEEL AND WERE REPAIRED AND POWDER COATED SO THEY CAN SERVE MANY MORE YEARS ON MAIN STREET. THE CANS WERE PURCHASED DURING THE ADMINISTRATION OF HERBERT BERMAN, PRESIDENT OF R.I.O.C, (2003-2007). AT ABOUT 18 YEARS OF AGE, THEY HAVE MANY MORE PRODUCTIVE YEARS AHEAD.
TUESDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY
Jon Batiste, former bandleader for Stephen Colbert, playing at yesterday’s event at 4 Freedoms Park w Hillary Clinton … Thanks, Nina Lublin
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
JUNIPER VALLEY CIVIC ASSOCIATION JUDITH BERDY
THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
Little more than a century ago, deep in America’s rural South, a community-based movement ignited by two unexpected collaborators quietly grew to become so transformative, its influence shaped the educational and economic future of an entire generation of African American families.
Between 1917 and 1932, nearly 5,000 rural schoolhouses, modest one-, two-, and three-teacher buildings known as Rosenwald Schools, came to exclusively serve more than 700,000 black children over four decades. It was through the shared ideals and a partnership between Booker T. Washington, an educator, intellectual and prominent African American thought leader, and Julius Rosenwald, a German-Jewish immigrant who accumulated his wealth as head of the behemoth retailer, Sears, Roebuck & Company, that Rosenwald Schools would come to comprise more than one in five Black schools operating throughout the South by 1928.
Only about 500 of these structures survive today, according to the National Trust for Historic Preservation. Some schools serve as community centers, others have restoration projects underway with the support of grants from National Trust for Historic Preservation while others are without champions and in advance stages of disrepair. Eroding alongside their dwindling numbers is their legacy of forming an American education revolution.
Photographer and author Andrew Feiler’s new book, A Better Life for Their Children, takes readers on a journey to 53 of these remaining Rosenwald schools. He pairs his own images of the schools as they look today with narratives from former students, teachers, and community members whose lives were molded by the program. A collection of photographs and stories from the book are also set to be featured in an exhibition at the National Center for Civil and Human Rights in Atlanta, later this spring.
When Feiler, 59, first learned of Rosenwald Schools in 2015, it was a revelation that launched a nearly four-year journey over 25,000 miles throughout the southeast where he visited 105 schools.
“I’m a fifth-generation Jewish Georgian and a progressive activist my entire life. The story’s pillars: Jewish, southern, progressive activists, are the pillars of my life. How could I have never heard of it?” says Feiler, who saw an opportunity for a new project, to document the schools with his camera.
That the schools’ history is not more widely known is in large part due to the program’s benefactor. Rosenwald was a humble philanthropist who avoided publicity surrounding his efforts; very few of the schools built under the program bear his name. His beliefs about the philanthropic distribution of wealth in one’s own lifetime contributed to the anonymity, as his estate dictated that all funds supporting the schools were to be distributed within 25 years of his death. Many of the former students Feiler met with were unaware of the scope of the program, or that other Rosenwald Schools existed outside of their county, until restoration efforts gained national attention.
As Feiler outlines in the book, Rosenwald and Washington were introduced by mutual friends, and Washington lobbied Rosenwald to join the board of directors at Tuskegee Institute, the Alabama university for African Americans he co-founded. They began a lengthy correspondence about how they might collaborate further and soon focused on schools for black children.
Julius Rosenwald Fund schoolhouse construction map Fisk University Archives
Washington knew education was key to black Americans rising from generations of oppression. His memoir, Up From Slavery, inspired many, including Julius Rosenwald, who was impressed with Washington’s zeal for education as it aligned so closely with his own beliefs.
In the Jim Crow South, institutionalized segregation pushed rural black students into poor public schools. Municipal education expenditures were a small fraction of monies spent on educating similarly situated white children. In North Carolina alone, the state only spent $2.30 per black student was spent in 1915 compared to nearly $7.40 per white student and nearly $30 per student nationally, according to research by Tom Hanchett, a Rosenwald Schools scholar and community historian.
“Washington saw group effort as key to real change in America,” says Hanchett. “Education is one way to harness powerful group effort. If everyone can read and write, they can work together in a way they could not previously. The schools themselves were ways to bring not just children together but entire communities that were geographically dispersed.”
Interior of the Tankersley School in Montgomery County, Alabama, active 1923-1967 Andrew Feiler
Bay Springs School in Forrest County, Mississippi, active 1925-1958 Andrew Feiler
Rosenwald felt, too, that rural America held great promise. “Rosenwald had to think broadly about who Sears’ customers were,” says Hanchett, “The advent of rural free delivery by the U.S. Postal Service had dramatically increased Sears’ base from in-store shopping to catalog-based procurement. Having rural customers made Rosenwald more aware of the disenfranchisement for blacks, especially in education.”
Out of this collaboration came the thousands of schoolhouses across the South, which lived up to Washington’s aspirations of community togetherness for a generation. In 1954, when the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Brown v. Board of Education that race-based segregation in schools was unconstitutional, Rosenwald schools began to consolidate with white schools over time and most of the structures were lost.
A central legacy of the Rosenwald School program is its contribution to educating leaders and foot soldiers of the civil rights movement. Feiler’s research crossed paths of several Rosenwald alumnus including Medgar Evers, Maya Angelou, members of the Little Rock Nine and Congressman John Lewis, whose portrait Feiler captured before Lewis’s death last year.
Feiler’s initial photoshoots began with exterior images, yet the schoolhouses themselves only revealed part of the story. “By far the most emotionally rewarding part of my experience was meeting people who attended, taught, and are devoting their lives to saving these schools,” says Feiler.
One of the most compelling anecdotes Feiler shares is from an encounter on his very first school visit to Bartow County, Georgia. There, he met Marian Coleman, 74, who attended grades 1 -3 at the Noble Hill School from 1951 to 1955, when the school closed. Reborn in 1989 as the Noble Hill-Wheeler Memorial Center, the former schoolhouse serves as a black cultural museum and features historical aspects of black culture in Bartow County. For 21 years, Coleman served as the center’s curator, a position now held by her niece, Valarie Coleman, 44.
Coleman’s great-grandfather, Webster Wheeler, led the effort to have Noble Hill built in 1923 with Rosenwald funds. Having left Georgia for Detroit as part of the Great Migration that saw a post-WWI exodus of black farmers from the rural agricultural South move to northern cities for higher paying industrial jobs, he worked for years as a carpenter for the Ford Motor Company. Wheeler returned home upon learning of the Rosenwald grant from family correspondence. Feiler’s photograph captures the two Colemans inside the center, holding a photograph of Wheeler that he had sent to family back home marking his arrival in a new land of promise.
Noble Hill School in Bartow County, Georgia, active 1923-1955 Andrew Feiler
Coleman recalls that even in the 1950s, the school had no electricity or interior bathroom, though nearby schools for white children had modern facilities. “I was aware other [white] schools had different standards,” says Coleman, who went on to become an elementary school teacher herself. “Many times, our parents weren’t able to buy materials we needed. We had books from the white schools after they were finished with them.”
A sense of community made the greatest impression upon Coleman as a child. “My parents would always plan special things for us,” says Coleman, “There were fundraising dinners for the development of the school and folks made quilts that were raffled off. We knew they were interested in us having a better education.”
To Feiler, the connection between Rep. Lewis and the Rosenwald schools made sense; he had lived in the congressman’s district for many years. “Lewis embodied the conscience of American optimism,” he says. “Education was always a high priority to his legislative agenda.”
Siloam School in Mecklenburg County, North Carolina, 1920s-1947 Andrew Feiler
Feiler asked Lewis to bring readers into his Rosenwald School classroom, Dunn’s Chapel School in Pike County, Alabama, to share how his education there shaped his life. “I loved school, loved everything about it, no matter how good or bad I was at it,” Lewis writes in the book’s foreword. “Our school had a small library, and biographies were my favorite, stories that opened my eyes to the world beyond Pike County.”Siloam School, a one-teacher classroom in Mecklenburg County, North Carolina, built around 1920, is captured by Feiler in evident disrepair, its pine siding decaying and foundation melting into a soft earthen slope. Sixty black children were registered here in 1924, according to the Charlotte Museum of History, which has undertaken an ambitious project to restore the schoolhouse as an interpretive education and community center. “Preserving Siloam School will provide context to this difficult history and a place to interpret it,” says Adria Focht, the museum’s president and CEO. “Once restored, the school will return as a community space and place for conversation, dialogue, and progress to help build a stronger, more equitable and just future.”Like all Rosenwald Schools, Siloam’s architectural plan followed a highly prescribed manner and was developed at Tuskegee Institute as part of the Rosenwald Schools program. Detailed school plans dictated everything from the schools’ physical orientation—north- or south-facing to allow for all-day sunshine through large windows—to the color of the walls—cream or eggshell—to encourage calm and learning.
The guidelines were devised under the stewardship of architect Robert Robinson Taylor, who before becoming a professor at Tuskegee was the first black student enrolled at Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the nation’s first accredited black architect. (Taylor’s great-granddaughter, Valerie Jarrett, a former senior advisor to President Barack Obama, sat for a portrait posing with a sheet of commemorative U.S. postage stamps honoring her ancestor.) The story of education as a central focus of civil and human rights is an important framework for helping people understand their role in the culture, in society, and their and political and economic rights,” says Calinda N. Lee of the National Center for Civil and Human Rights. “Education is fundamental to being able to advocate for individual rights and work in solidarity with other people. This story is part of what is so compelling about [Feiler’s] work.”
Perhaps no building showcases that dynamic more than Sumner County, Tennessee’s Cairo School, built in 1922. Frank Brinkley, 79, attended Cairo School grades 1-8 from 1947 to 1958, where his father, Hutch, served as the sole teacher and principal for 23 years. “I always loved math,” he says. “When I was in 7th and 8th grade, my father let me teach and help the 1st graders with their arithmetic and math lessons.”
He continued being a teacher on through adulthood, instructing high schoolers and adults in science and mathematics. “At that time, about the only position blacks could hold in education was teaching school,” says Brinkley. “Father encouraged all his children and wanted it known that if you went to Cairo School, you were good students academically. He took a great deal of pride in knowing all six of his children graduated from college.”Feiler’s portrait of Frank and his younger brother, Charles Brinkley Sr., embodies the dignity, pride and honor these men feel about the school serving as a vehicle to shape their family’s lives. All of Hutch’s 10 grandchildren would also continue on to college.“I still have chills when I go back to the school,” says Brinkley. “I feel how far we have come, yet we still have a long way to go. While we are standing the shoulders of giants, our heads are still below the water.”
Classroom in Shiloh School, Anderson County, South Carolina Andrew Feiler
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
Michael J. Solender |Michael J. Solender lives and writes in Charlotte, N.C. Website: michaeljwrites.com
SMITHSONIAN MAGAZINE
THIS PUBLICATION FUNDED BY DISCRETIONARY FUNDS FROM CITY COUNCIL MEMBER JULIE MENIN & ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE FUNDS.
Photo by Justin Lui, Courtesy of the New York Transit Museum
R-33, R-33WF and R-36 cars from the Musem’s vintage fleet have been selected to make up this year’s Train of Many Colors. All of the cars featured were manufactured in the 1960s. The “Tartar Red” and “Gunn Red” redbirds, Kale Green “Green Machines”, blue-and-silver “Platinum Mist” and striking two-tone robin’s egg blue and cream “Bluebird” paint schemes give the train its festive name and a festive look. The diversity of the cars exemplifies how the subway changed throughout different eras of its history.
Today, it is easy to find a soft pretzel out on the streets and many subway stops have food vendors at the station — like the Turnstyle Underground Market at Columbus Circle — but the most convenient way to grab this classic snack, and not miss your train, would be to have a pretzel vendor right on the subway platform. In the 1960s, commuters at the Union Square station were able to do just that. In recent years, the city has been cracking down on subway food vendors, and in 2017, the MTA Chief even suggested banning food on the subway.
Vintage subway car at the New York Transit Museum with fabric “straphangers”. Courtesy of New York Transit Museum.
The term straphangers may be confusing to modern-day riders, after all, there are no straps on the subway. However, the first standing subway car riders held onto canvas straps to stabilize themselves. Over time, the canvas straps were replaced by metal “grab holds” and eventually replaced entirely by plain metal bars.
No solution keeps the spread of germs away, but individual straps at least eliminate the awkwardness of accidentally touching a stranger’s hand or having to fight for a spot on a pole to hold onto. Those who want to relive the strap-hanging experience can check out the entire level of vintage subway trains at the New York Transit Museum, ride on a nostalgia train, or purchase metal subway grab holds from the Transit Museum store.
Classic white subway tile is having a moment in interior design, but our focus is on the colorful mosaics that adorn the walls of New York City subway platforms. During the construction of the subway system, many architects and artists were commissioned to design ceramic flourishes for signage. The original intent of the decorative signs was to announce the name of the stop and to help non-English speakers, who couldn’t read the words on signs, orient themselves based on the artwork. Most original Arts and Crafts/Beaux Arts-style ceramic designs were created by Heins & LaFarge and Squire Vickers.
While many newer subway stations, like the World Trade Center Transportation Hub and the Second Ave subway, have a streamlined and modern aesthetic, we are happy that the tradition of showcasing art in the subway is being upheld, and that new stations continue to feature artwork that incorporates the mosaic technique.
No subway station can rival the grandeur of the City Hall Station, even in its decommissioned state. It features architectural wonders, such as tiled arches, brass chandeliers, and skylights. However, due to its curved platform, which was not able to accommodate newer, longer cars, the station was ultimately closed in 1945. Today, new subway stations and transit hub renovations showcase exciting new sleek, and modern designs, but we’re nostalgic for the Gilded-Age extravagance of City Hall Station.
PROMOTING ETIQUETTE
MAN SPREADING HAS ALWAYS BEEN A PROBLEM……HEAR THAT GUYS???
DOOR BLOCKERS HAVE ALWAYS BEEN WITH US, TODAY WITH A CELL PHONE AND NOT A NEWSPAPER!
SOME COMPLAINTS REMAIN THE SAME THROUGHOUT THE YEARS!
A VIEW OF THE BLACKWELL’S ISLAND PENITENTIARY FROM QUEENS WITH THE WATER TANK OF THE TERRA COTTA WORKS ON VERNON BLVD IN FOREGROUND.
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)
The silver Cartier plane is a to-scale reproduction of Le Point d’Interrogation, or “Question Mark” in English. Le Point d’Interrogation was a Breguet Br. 19 TF Super Bidon (super tank) made by a French aeronautics company. It was specifically designed for long-distance journeys. The plane had two wings – the top of which was larger and spanned just over 60 feet – a single engine, and two fuel tanks. It was painted a bright red and adorned with a large white question mark. In September 1930, French aviators Dieudonné Costes and Maurice Bellonte made history by flying the plane on the first nonstop, transatlantic flight from Paris to New York City.
