The Struggle to Save the Austin, Nichols and Co. Warehouse

Posted on May 15, 2012 by | Leave a comment

“This building is a piece of trash, and it should be knocked down.” – Simcha Felder, member of the New York City Council and chair of the council’s Subcommittee on Landmarks, Public Siting and Maritime Uses

“Preserving this site is important for the fabric of our community.” – Michael R. Bloomberg, Mayor of New York City

“I could not distinguish this warehouse from dozens of other warehouse and factory buildings on the waterfront. It just simply doesn’t deserve it. It’s a nondescript white box of a building.” – David Yassky, member of the New York City Council

“Of course it should be landmarked. It’s by Cass Gilbert, one of our great architects. You have people who absolutely know nothing making outrageous statements about the architectural value of the building.” – Ada Louise Huxtable, architecture critic

“You can’t tell me the reason we voted it down isn’t related to the interests of the developer. This sends a chilling message to the Landmarks Preservation Commission and preservation groups.” – Tony Avella, member of the New York City Council

The quotes above are a small sample of the range of feelings evoked by the Austin, Nichols & Co. building at 184 Kent Avenue in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. The warehouse was built from 1914-1915 for its namesake, the largest importing and manufacturing wholesale grocery business in the world. Critics of the time described the building, designed by renowned architect Cass Gilbert, as an outstanding example of Egyptian Revival architecture rarely found in New York City and the United States.

Wurts Bros. Austin Nichols Building, watercolor perspective rendering, dated 1913. ca. 1915. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.4399

Noted architects Le Corbusier and Walter Gropius identified this type of building as the stimulus for the development of European modernism.

Wurts Bros. North 3rd Street. Austin Nichols Co. 1915. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.4502

The warehouse utilized piers, railway tracks, freight elevators, conveyor belts, and pneumatic tubes for the production of foodstuffs under the Sunbeam Foods label.

Wurts Bros. Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Austin-Nichols and Co., control and motor to refrigerator plant. ca. 1916. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.4936

Wurts Bros. Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Austin-Nichols and Co., peanut butter machines. ca. 1916. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.4935

Wurts Bros. Austin-Nichols and Co., coffee roasting department. ca. 1916. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.4937

The building remained the headquarters for Austin, Nichols & Co. until the late 1950s. The building was acquired by 184 Kent Avenue Associates in 1986 and rented to residential and commercial tenants. In 2004, the building’s owners submitted a proposal to the Board of Standards and Appeals to construct a rooftop addition and transform the 72-unit building into 256 condos. This would have drastically altered the building’s appearance. The Landmarks Preservation Committee (LPC) subsequently held a public meeting and deliberated over possible landmark status for the warehouse, which would negate the owners’ plans for the building.

At the public meeting  held on July 26, 2005, 27 people, including representatives from the Cass Gilbert Society, McCarren Park Conservancy, Municipal Art Society, and New York Landmarks Conservancy, spoke in favor of the landmark designation. In addition, the LPC received over 500 postcards in support of the designation, mostly from Williamsburg residents. Architectural historians Andrew S. Dolkart, Sharon Irish, Sarah Bradford Landau, and Robert A. M. Stern also wrote letters to the LPC endorsing the landmark status. The LPC also heard statements in opposition to the designation, from representatives of the building’s owners and councilman David Yassky.

Two months later, the LPC designated the Austin, Nichols & Co. warehouse a landmark. But on November 29, 2005, the New York City Council took a rare step in reversing the LPC’s designation. Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg vetoed the council’s reversal, but the council voted to override the veto.

Cass Gilbert is perhaps best known for designing the Woolworth Building. When the building opened in 1913, it was the tallest skyscraper in the world. The LPC designated that building a landmark in 1983.

Wurts Bros. 233 Broadway. Woolworth Building, final view. ca. 1914. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.10817

In addition to the Woolworth Building, Gilbert designed other NYC landmarks. His first design in New York City was the Broadway Chambers Building in TriBeCa, built from 1899 to 1900. The LPC designated this office building a landmark in 1992.

Wurts Bros. Broadway and Chambers Street. Broadway Chambers Building. ca. 1915. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.4846

In 1899, 20 architectural firms competed to design the United States Custom House in Lower Manhattan, but Gilbert won the commission. It was completed in 1907 and designated a landmark in 1965.

Wurts Bros. Bowling Green. New York U.S. Custom House, general exterior from N.W. ca. 1905. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.746

The West Street Building was also completed in 1907, and designated a landmark in 1998.

Wurts Bros. West Street between Albany Street and Cedar Street. West Street Building, finished view. ca. 1905. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.741

The New York Life Insurance Company Building, just north of Madison Square, was built from 1926-1928 and designated a landmark in 2000.

Wurts Bros. Madison Avenue between 26th and 27th Street. New York Life Insurance Building, view looking S.E. from N.W. corner of 28th Street, with foundation of new building in foreground. 1961. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.10170

Not all of Gilbert’s buildings have fared so well, however. The Westchester Avenue railroad station, built in 1908 to serve the old New York, New Haven and Hartford Railroad Company, is on the New York Landmark Conservancy’s list of endangered buildings.

Wurts Bros. Westchester Avenue Station, N.Y., N.H. and H.R.R. ca. 1915. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.1842

And what of the Austin, Nichols & Co. building? Surprisingly, the council’s decision was not the last word on the fate of the warehouse. Shortly thereafter, the owners sold the property to 184 Kent Fee LLC, which then donated a historic preservation deed of easement to the Trust for Architectural Easements. In return for the donation, the new owners qualified for the Federal Historic Preservation Tax Incentive Program. The Austin, Nichols & Co. building continues to function as rental residences, but thanks to the donation, its height and shape will be preserved in perpetuity.

During the month of May, we’ll be posting more entries on historic preservation in the city. The Museum of the City of New York is competing for a $250,000 grant from Partners in Preservation, a joint program sponsored by American Express and the National Trust for Historic Preservation. The winner is determined by popular vote, and individuals may vote once a day through May 21st. Please help us by going to http://www.helpmcny.com/ and voting today.

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Penn Station and the Rise of Historic Preservation

Posted on May 8, 2012 by | 4 Comments

After reading Lauren Robinson’s fantastic blog post about the return of Mad Men, I found myself haunted by the destruction of the original Penn Station. And as I dug deeper, I discovered that this was a drama of almost mythic proportions; a classic tale of David and Goliath; big corporations against a rag-tag group of underdogs; and art versus profit.

But first, the backstory: the original Pennsylvania Station was designed by Charles F. McKim, of McKim, Mead & White fame, the preeminent East Coast architectural firm of the Gilded Age. McKim’s designs drew heavily on classical architecture like the Roman Baths of Caracalla and the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin that elevated the mere activity of entering and leaving the city into a  momentous occasion.

McKim, Mead & White. Pennsylvania Station. 1905. Museum of the City of New York. 90.44.1.593.

Penn Station was opened on September 8th, 1910, and its sheer scale immediately evoked a sense of awe. At the time it was completed, it was the largest building ever built (with the qualifier of “at one time”), and boasted the biggest waiting room in history. With 150-foot ceilings and natural light streaming through an iron and glass roof — how could one not think that they were somewhere magical?

George P. Hall and Son. Interior of Pennsylvania Station. 1911. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.5113.

Berenice Abbott (1898-1991). Pennsylvania Station. 1936. Museum of the City of New York. 43.131.1.216.

Wide World Photos, Inc. Crowds in Pennsylvania Station. ca. 1920. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.5088.

Yet only 50 years after it was opened, Penn Station was in trouble. The owners of the station, Pennsylvania Railroad, were broke. The station was falling into disrepair. Airplanes and automobiles had begun to eclipse rail travel. With all this, the nine-acre lot between 7th and 8th Avenues from 31st to 33rd Street was just far too valuable not to sell.  Even the architecture had gone out of style. The opulence and grandeur that were so popular in the Gilded Age were seen as an ungainly relic compared to the modern architecture of the 1960s.

At the same time, Madison Square Garden was outgrowing its location on 8th Avenue and 50th Street and its owners were eying possible building sites for a new, completely modernized sports arena. Suddenly there appeared an answer for both Pennsylvania Railroad’s financial problems and the continuation of Madison Square Garden. On July 25, 1961, the New York Times published the first mention of the relocation of Madison Square Garden to the site of Penn Station. What’s intriguing about this article is that the developers meant to keep the original station waiting room as part of the new facility. Two days later it became apparent that this was not going to happen, and on July 27, 1961 the front page of the New York Times ran the headline “’62 Start is Set for New Garden — Penn Station to Be Razed to Street Level in Project.” The planned $75 million complex included a hotel and a 34-story office building, along with a 25,000 seat arena and a smaller 4,000 seat arena, which the article described as “a huge, sagging pancake.” But, Irving Felt, the president of the company that owned Madison Square Garden, believed “that the gain from the new buildings and sports center would more than offset any aesthetic loss.”

This galvanized a group of five twenty-something architects calling themselves the Action Group for Better Architecture in New York, shortened to AGBANY, to organize a public protest against the demolition on August 21, 1962.  From 5 to 7 P.M, they picketed in front of Penn Station carrying signs reading “Shame” and “Don’t Amputate — Renovate.”  Reports vary that at least 150 people participated and soon organizations like the Municipal Arts Council joined the fight to save Penn Station. For the next year, the battle continued. Larger protests from city residents, however, didn’t come until it was too late.

On October 28, 1963 at 9 A.M., as a light rain fell and picketers wearing black armbands watched silently, electric jackhammers began to destroy Penn Station. For the next three years, Penn Station was slowly demolished.  The destruction was brutal and total; the station’s monumental ornamentation – 16-ton decorative eagles and the 84 Doric columns that made up the Seventh Avenue facade – were dumped unceremoniously into the marshlands of Secaucus, New Jersey.

Aaron Rose. The demolition of Pennsylvania Station, 1964-1965. Museum of the City of New York. 01.30.82

Aaron Rose. The demolition of Pennsylvania Station, 1964-1965. Museum of the City of New York. 01.30.2

Aaron Rose. The demolition of Pennsylvania Station, 1964-1965. Museum of the City of New York. 01.30.79.

Aaron Rose. The demolition of Pennsylvania Station, 1964-1965. Museum of the City of New York. 01.30.95.

Aaron Rose. The demolition of Pennsylvania Station, 1964-1965. Museum of the City of New York. 01.30.117.

As a direct result, on April 15, 1965, Mayor Robert Wagner signed the Landmark Law, which created the Landmarks Preservation Commission. For the first time there was an agency with government power to designate and even save historical buildings and neighborhoods. The legal ramification didn’t end there though. A year later, after growing countrywide preservation efforts, the National Historic Preservation Act was enacted, ensuring that other cities wouldn’t also have to lose a landmark to realize the importance of its preservation.

Below are some of the strikingly emotional reactions to the destruction of Penn Station from the New York Times:

“Farewell to Penn Station” on October 30, 1963 “Until the first blow fell, no one was convinced that Penn Station really would be demolished, or that New York would permit this monumental act of vandalism against one of the largest and finest landmarks of its age of Roman elegance. Any city gets what it admires, will pay for, and, ultimately, deserves. Even when we had Penn Station, we couldn’t afford to keep it clean. We want and deserve tin-can architecture in a tinhorn culture. And we will probably be judged not by the monuments we build but by those we have destroyed”

Ada Louise Huxtable wrote the following on July 16, 1966:  “Pennsylvania Station succumbed to progress this week at the age of 56, after a lingering decline.  The building’s one remaining facade was shorn of eagles and ornament yesterday, preparatory to leveling the last wall.  It went not with a bang, or a whimper, but to the rustle of real estate stock shares.  The passing of Penn Station is more than the end of a landmark.  It makes the priority of real estate values over preservation conclusively clear.  It confirms the demise of an age of opulent elegance, of conspicuous, magnificent spaces, rich and enduring materials, the monumental civic gesture, and extravagant expenditure for esthetic ends.”

Vincent Scully, Jr., as quoted in the New York Times on February 12, 2012 about the differences in the Penn Station:  “One entered the city like a god; one scuttles in now like a rat.”

For a detailed  study of the demolition of Penn Station,  check out The Fall and Rise of Pennsylvania Station. Changing Attitudes Toward Historic Preservation in New York City by Eric J. Plosky, found here.

During the month of May, we’ll be posting more entries on historic preservation in the city. The Museum of the City of New York is competing for a $250,000 grant from Partners in Preservation, a joint program sponsored by American Express and the National Trust for Historic Preservation. The winner is determined by popular vote, and individuals may vote once a day through May 21st. Please help us by going to http://www.helpmcny.com/ and voting today.

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Mott Haven Historic District

Posted on May 1, 2012 by | 2 Comments

The neighborhood of Mott Haven is located in the South Bronx, and is situated on a portion of land historically referred to as Morrisania, named after the powerful Morris family who held possession of it for centuries.    Richard and Lewis Morris, merchants from Barbados, purchased the land from Jonas Bronck in 1670.  Alexander Avenue, which extends through the heart of the Mott Haven Historic District, is reputed to have been named after Alexander Bathgate, the overseer of the Morris manor.

J. L. Mott Ironworks, 1897. in the Bills Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 97.199.1

In 1828, Jordan L. Mott, an inventor and industrialist, purchased land from the Morris family to establish a foundry for his ironworks on the Harlem River at 134th Street.   By the 1840s he’d purchased a second tract of land with the idea of building the village of Mott Haven.  By 1850, Mott had drawn up plans for the lower part of the Mott Haven Canal, which, once completed, allowed canal boats to travel as far north as 138th Street.

Map of Mott Haven Canal Docks and other Property of W. E. Rider and T. H. Conkling, ca. 1880, In the Map Collection. Museum of the City of New York, 29.100.3142A.

Mott was viewed with a certain amount of resentment, as his ironworks and canal were the forerunners of a wave of unwelcome industrialization through what had previously been pastoral countryside.   If you look along the canal in the map above, you’ll see the Mott Ironworks located where the canal meets the Harlem River, and several other industrial buildings as you move up the canal.  The neighborhood that forms the Mott Haven Historic District is a residential pocket in the greater industrial neighborhood of Mott Haven, contributing to it’s uniqueness.

Arthur Rothstein (1915-1985) and Frank Bauman, for LOOK Magazine. Changing New York: A building and a church being demolished, 1957. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.7552-57.175

The Mott Haven Historic District is roughly situated along Alexander Avenue, bounded by East 137th Street to the south, and East 141st Street to the north.  This stretch has been known throughout its history both as “The Irish Fifth Avenue” and “Politician’s Row.” The Mott Haven Historical District was the first area in the Bronx to receive the designation from the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission, in 1969, shortly following the first historic district designation in 1965 of Brooklyn Heights.   Following the construction of major highways in the South Bronx in the 1950s, primarily the Cross-Bronx Expressway, the displacement of vast swathes of residents led to poverty and decay in the South Bronx.  Images such at the one above, picturing demolition along the Harlem River at the Park Avenue Bridge (just southwest of the Mott Haven Historic District), became commonplace by the 1960s.

Wurts Brothers. East 137th Street and Alexander Avenue. St. Jerome's Roman Catholic Church, interior, ca. 1905. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.10472.

Scenes such as the one  captured by Rothstein and Bauman illustrate the timeliness of the historic district designation for Mott Haven.  Among some of the architectural landmarks in the Mott Haven Historic District is St. Jerome’s Roman Catholic Church, at the corner of Alexander Avenue and 138th Street, pictured to the right.   The district also boasts several examples of historic residential architecture from the early 1860s – 1920s, with interiors custom designed for their owners, and important civic structures, including: the Tercera Iglesia Bautista (Third Baptist Church) and its parsonage; the Mott Haven Branch of the Public Library, which was the first public library in the Bronx, and constructed with funds from Andrew Carnegie’s grant; and the 40th Precinct Police Station.  While the historical designation of Mott Haven was a step in the right direction for preserving the unique architectural landscape of the South Bronx, no other neighborhoods received the designation until Longwood did, in 1980.

Susan Lorkid Katz. SKIPPED, 1977. Museum of the City of New York. 84.203.101

In the decade in between,  decay continued to spread through the borough, and numerous building fires sprung up on a daily basis, leading to the coining of the phrase, “The Bronx is burning,” attributed to Howard Cosell as he commented on a fire in the neighborhood surrounding the stadium during a New York Yankees game.  The events of the 1970s brought national attention to the South Bronx, including the notice of President Jimmy Carter, and by the early 1980s parts of the borough were beginning to experience an urban renewal.  In addition to Longwood, three other neighborhoods received the historic designation in the 1980s, and four in the 1990s.

Click here to view more images of Mott Haven from the collection, including structures which no longer exist, such as the 138th Street Grand Central Railroad Station and the 3rd Avenue “L”.

During the month of May, we’ll be posting more entries on historic preservation in the city. The Museum of the City of New York is competing for a $250,000 grant from Partners in Preservation, a joint program sponsored by American Express and the National Trust for Historic Preservation. The winner is determined by popular vote, and individuals may vote once a day through May 21st. Please help us by going to http://www.helpmcny.com/ and voting today.

 

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Riding the Subway with Stanley Kubrick

Posted on April 24, 2012 by | 32 Comments

As most New Yorkers know, the subway system is the lifeline of New York City.   In 1946 Stanley Kubrick set out as a staff photographer for LOOK Magazine to capture the story of New York City’s subway commuters.

Kubrick was not the first photographer to depict the New York City subway.  In 1938 Walker Evans shot many amazing portraits of unknowing riders with a camera hidden in his coat. This may have influenced Kubrick’s work. This Kubrick  image is a very “shot from the hip,” Walker Evans-style portrait.

Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Passengers in a subway car. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.26C

As you can see below, with the exception of iPods and smart phones, activities on the train haven’t changed much in the last 66 years, including shoving one’s newspaper in everyone else’s faces.

Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Passengers reading in a subway car. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.30D

Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Passengers in a subway car. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.55E

Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Passengers in a subway car. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.52B

Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Woman knitting on a subway. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.11107.16

Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. People on escalators in a subway station. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.61C

Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Woman waiting on a subway platform. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.81B

Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Women in a subway car. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.11E

Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Men sleeping in a subway car. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.73C

Although it is now claimed that chivalry is dead, it was definitely waning in 1946.

Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Passengers in a subway car. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.56E

BUT romance still thrived on some trains.

Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Couple playing footsies on a subway. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.90E

Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Man carrying flowers on a crowded subway. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.37C

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Lincoln’s last play; or, the continuing fascination with “Our American Cousin”

Posted on April 17, 2012 by | Leave a comment

A distant cousin stands to inherit a large British estate on the brink of financial ruin. Sound familiar?  The main storyline from the phenomenally popular British series “Downton Abbey” shares its roots with the 19th century play, Our American Cousin, in which an American travels to England to survey his British cousins and his inheritance.  This past Sunday marked the 100-year anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic, the event that jump starts intrigues at Downton; and Saturday was the 147th anniversary of the most famous performance of Our American Cousin:  the night of President Abraham Lincoln’s assassination, April 14, 1865.

"Our American Cousin", August 11, 1860. Broadway Production Files, Museum of the City of New York. F2012.41.18

Written by English playwright Tom Taylor, Our American Cousin premiered in New York in the fall of 1858.  It starred Joseph Jefferson as the rough and rustic American Asa Trenchard who arrives at the British Trenchard estate as the last named heir.  Servants gossip, villains emerge from the shadows, and true love conquers in the end. A comedy with a melodramatic structure, much of the show’s humor was originally intended to spring from Asa’s crude and uncouth manners as an American in England. However, the ad-libs of Jefferson’s friend, E. A. Sothern as the foppish and silly Lord Dundreary, soon eclipsed the American cousin.

With expansive sideburns and dandified attire, Sothern transformed Lord Dundreary’s role from a bit part into a top billing character.  Sothern became almost synonymous with the role and was able to perform it in several sequels and spin-offs.  “Dundrearies” entered the popular lexicon as a term to describe the facial hair Sothern chose for the character.  Not a hundred years after throwing off British rule, it is perhaps no surprise that the idiotic sayings of a ridiculous Englishman were thought humorous by American audiences.

Sheet music cover for "The Laura Keene Schottish", 1856. Theater Collection, Museum of the City of New York. 40.160.1064

Neither Jefferson nor Sothern performed for Lincoln the night of April 14th, but Laura Keene, who played the show’s original heroine, Florence Trenchard,  was on the stage.

In fact, it was Keene’s company that premiered the show in New York at the theater she managed on Broadway.  A single mother with two young daughters, Keene came to the United States from England in 1852 with an invitation to perform with James William Wallack’s New York based stock company. By 1857 she had formed her own company, leased theaters in Baltimore, San Francisco and New York,  and built  her own theater at 622 Broadway.   One of her theater’s biggest hits was Our American Cousin.  Below is an a page from the Laura Keene’s Theatre’s ledger for a performance of the play two years after its debut.

Account book for Laura Keene's Theatre, p. 186, August 11, 1860. Theater Collection, Museum of the City of New York. 39.500.153

Notes in the upper left corner provide information on the weather the night of the performance.  It was threatening rain on the evening of August 11, 1860, but that didn’t stop the audiences.

Our American Cousin wasn’t just the last play President Lincoln saw.  It  was one of the great commercial successes of its day.  It made a star our of E. A. Sothern and cemented the reputation of Laura Keene, America’s first successful theatrical businesswoman.   And 150 years later, the plot line still is still capable of capturing the imagination of a wide audience.  The images and information I was able to fit into this short blog post really are, if you’ll permit the allusion, just the tip of the iceberg.

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Saving the Titanic Memorial Lighthouse

Posted on April 10, 2012 by | 3 Comments

April 16, 1912 was supposed to have been a joyous day for Seamen’s Church Institute.  That evening, they were scheduled to celebrate laying the cornerstone of their new building at 25 South Street.  Earlier that day, however, news arrived of the sinking of Titanic, and excitement over the new building was overshadowed by a nation mourning the loss of over 1,500 people.  The group in attendance at the ceremony made a plan to build a lighthouse on top of the building to commemorate the heroism displayed by many in the tragedy, as well as remember those who lost their lives.

New York Herald, 1912. Surviving Crew Receives Clothing, 1912. Courtesy of The Seamen's Church Institute Archives.

Building this lighthouse turned into a nationwide effort as people banded together in solidarity after the tragedy; it seemed that everyone donated to the cause.  Wealthy socialites like Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt wrote checks and schoolchildren donated pennies and nickels .  One year to the day after the sinking, the lighthouse was dedicated in front of a crowd of over 300.

Invitation to the Dedication of the TitanicMemorial Lighthouse, 1913. Courtesy of Seamen's Church Institute Archives.

Dedication of the Titanic Memorial Lighthouse, 1913. Courtesy of Seamen's Church Institute Archives.

Although it served as a memorial, the lighthouse had a practical use as well.  Designed by Warren & Wetmore (the architects of Grand Central Station), its signature green light (the only lighthouse in the country to use that color) could be seen by vessels 10 miles out in the Narrows, helping guide ships into port.  A time ball was dropped every day at 12 noon, which ships in the harbor, as well as local residents and workers in Lower Manhattan, could use to set their watches.

Samuel H. Gottscho (1875-1971). New York City Views. Detail of the Titanic Memorial on Seamen’s Church Institute, 1932. Museum of the City of New York, 88.1.1.2369.

In 1967, Seamen’s Church Institute moved to new headquarters at 15 State Street and their original building, along with the lighthouse, was set to be demolished.  A group of concerned preservationists led by Frederick Fried, Friends of South Street Seaport, and the South Street Seaport Museum, banded together to persuade the demolition company to donate the lighthouse to the Museum.  It now anchors a small park at the intersection of Fulton St. and Water St., at the entrance of the Historic Seaport District.  Not only does it serve as a reminder of Titanic’s tragic story, it also documents the role of an important institution in the port’s history, provides a visible welcome to the Seaport, and reminds us of the need to preserve landmarks and artifacts.

Titanic Memorial Lighthouse where it stands today; unbeknownst to this woman, she's sitting under history!

Plaque on the Titanic Memorial Lighthouse.

For more information about Seamen’s Church Institute and their work helping the surviving crew from Titanic, check out the SCI Archive’s digital exhibition.

If you’d like to learn more about Titanic or to see the lighthouse in person, visit the South Street Seaport Museum, where today, April 10, 2012, the one hundredth anniversary of RMS Titanic’s launch on her maiden – and only – voyage, the Museum opens Titanic at 100: Myth and Memory, an exhibition that examines both the disaster and a century’s worth of fascination with the ship’s dramatic story.

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The Abolitionist Riots of 1834

Posted on April 3, 2012 by | 8 Comments

Not too long ago, I was looking through our map collection with Andrea Renner, one of the Museum’s Andrew W. Mellon Post-Doctoral Curatorial Fellows, who assisted curator Hilary Ballon on the The Greatest Grid: The Master Plan of Manhattan, 1811-2011, on view at the Museum through July 15.  We came across the map below. I’d seen it before, but been puzzled by the what it was meant to depict.

Map of Intersection of Spring Street and Varick Street, ca.1850, in the J. Clarence Davies Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.2984.

The map shows the intersection of Spring and Varick Streets. A barricade of sorts has been erected at the west side of the intersection, running across Spring Street, and two figures are fighting in the middle with what appear to be swords.

Map of

Inset, Map of Intersection of Spring Street and Varick Street, ca.1850, in the J. Clarence Davies Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.2984.

On closer inspection, it becomes apparent the barricade is made of carts, and in addition to the two figures fighting in the center of the streets, the intersection is completely surrounded by armed figures.  Andrea viewed hundreds of maps throughout New York City’s repositories during the several months leading up to The Grid, and was equally perplexed by this map.  Not too long after she’d completed her research for the exhibition, she sent me an excerpt from a book she’d found online, describing a “riot” in 1834, in which a mob attacked the homes and property of known abolitionists. The 27th Regiment was called in to disperse the mob, which had assembled in large numbers in the vicinity of Reverend Ludlow’s Church on Spring Street, between Varick and MacDougal, where they had amassed a barricade of carts, barrels, and ladders.  If you refer to the inset below, you’ll see the only structure identified on the whole map is an unnamed “Church,” which sits in the upper left quadrant on the image.  (We think the tiny black dots are meant to represent individual rioters.)   Andrea had identified our mystifying map.

Inset, Map of Intersection of Spring Street and Varick Street, ca.1850, in the J. Clarence Davies Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.2984.

I consulted the ever helpful Gotham: A History of New York City to 1898, by Edwin G. Burrows and Mike Wallace, to learn more about this event.   In July of 1834, several riots broke out, primarily incited by those -  such as James Watson Webb, editor of the Courier and Enquirer;  and William Leete Stone, secretary of the New York Colonization Society and editor of the Commerical Advertiser – opposed to the abolitionist activities of Arthur and Lewis Tappan, brothers involved with the founding of the American Anti-Slavery Association.

In the days leading up to July 11th, the events of which are depicted in the map above, anti-abolitionist activities erupted throughout the city.  On July 7th, anti-abolitionists descended on the Chatham Street Chapel, where a celebration in honor of the seventh anniversary of the emancipation of New York’s Slaves was planned.  Three separate riots broke out on July 9th:  The Chatham Street Chapel was once again a target; Lewis Tappan’s Rose Street Home was demolished; and four thousand people stormed the Bowery Theater, where a benefit was underway for George Farren, the playhouse’s British stage manager, a man known for his anti-Yankee sentiments. Over the next two days Arthur Tappan’s Pearl Street Store was pelted with stones; rioters stormed the Laight Street Church, where the Reverend, Dr. Cox had preached in favor of church integration; and later a group broke into Cox’s home on Charlton Street.  Numerous other episodes of violence occurred, culminating in the swearing in by Mayor Lawrence of 1,000 volunteer constables, the deployment of the New York First Division, and all-night patrols by Calvary Squadrons. By Tuesday, July 15th, the riots had been suppressed.

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Love in the Time of Weegee

Posted on March 27, 2012 by | 3 Comments

As we continue to inventory and image the Museum’s holdings from the LOOK Magazine archives , we’ve discovered troves of images taken by famous photographers on assignment for the magazine.  Weegee is one of them.

The Museum has a handful of non-LOOK photographs depicting subjects that Weegee is mainly known for: sensational images of crime scenes.  The image below shows the bloodied corpse of Carlo Tresca, a socialist-turned-anarchist and the editor of an anti-Fascist newspaper.   Although Tresca managed to avoid multiple assassination attempts, his life came to an end while crossing Fifth Avenue and 13th Street.  A black Ford containing a squat gunman pulled up beside him and fired, shooting Tresca in the head.

Arthur (Weegee) Fellig (1899-1968). Man shining light on body of Carlo Tresca, New York.1943. Museum of the City of New York. 84.195.1

Weegee also captured police officers aiding an inebriated man.

Arthur (Weegee) Fellig (1899-1968). The Cocktail Hour. 1950. Museum of the City of New York. 84.195.4

Arthur (Weegee) Fellig (1899-1968). Policeman with wrapping paper-covered body of Lewis Sandano, New York. 1940. Museum of the City of New York. 84.195.10

The grim scene above shows the prone body of Lewis Sandano, shot and killed by policemen as he fled with a stolen overcoat.

Weegee shows a softer side in a 1948 series of photographs for LOOK showing soldiers returning from World War II and reuniting with their loved ones.

Arthur (Weegee) Fellig (1899-1968). Penn Station, 1948. Museum of the City of New York. X2012.4.10720.1

Arthur (Weegee) Fellig (1899-1968). Penn Station, 1948. Museum of the City of New York. X2012.4.10720.14

Arthur (Weegee) Fellig (1899-1968). Penn Station, 1948. Museum of the City of New York. X2012.4.10720.16

Arthur (Weegee) Fellig (1899-1968). Penn Station, 1948. Museum of the City of New York. X2012.4.10720.13

Arthur (Weegee) Fellig (1899-1968). Penn Station, 1948. Museum of the City of New York. X2012.4.10720.24

His Penn Station images are hopeful and sentimental, and the viewer’s desire to look at them is compelled by something other than the grit of humanity.  In either case, however, Weegee’s photos portray an immense love for the city and care for his subjects whether deceased or living.

“Weegee: Murder Is My Business” is on view through September 2, 2012 at the International Center of Photography. All Weegee photographs used with permission from ICP.

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It’s Toasted: Mad Men and New York City

Posted on March 20, 2012 by | 2 Comments

The digital team is eagerly awaiting the return of Mad Men to television on Sunday, March 25, after a 17-month hiatus. In anticipation of this, we have  pulled together an assortment of Mad Men-related images to share with you.

While imaging the Anthony F. Dumas theater drawings, our photographer Mia Moffett noticed the Lucky Strike advertisement bearing the famous “It’s Toasted” slogan on the theater’s signboard. In Mad Men’s pilot episode, Don Draper of Sterling Cooper successfully saves the firm’s Lucky Strike account by envisioning a new campaign for the beleaguered tobacco company: “Everyone else’s tobacco is poisonous, but Lucky Strike’s is toasted.”

Anthony F. Dumas. Rialto Theatre. Museum of the City of New York. 75.200.52

Near the end of the first season, Sterling Cooper employees have an all-night, booze-fueled party to watch the presidential election of 1960 live on television. Here is a photo of John F. Kennedy with Jackie on October 19, 1960, less than a month away from his election to the office of President.

Burton Berinsky. John F. Kennedy and Jacqueline Kennedy in a ticker-tape parade. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.10964

Angelo Lomeo. After Nixon Lost Election, 1960. Museum of the City of New York. 97.99.3

In season 3, representatives of Madison Square Garden hire Sterling Cooper for a public relations campaign, hoping to diminish negative publicity surrounding the proposed demolition of Pennsylvania Station. The station was designed by renowned Beaux-Arts architecture firm McKim, Mead & White. The New York Times glowingly reported on the opening of Penn Station in an article from August 29, 1910: “This Seventh Avenue facade was conceived especially to symbolize in most imposing fashion a monumental gateway. It may be compared, with due allowance for its more massive proportions, to the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin, through which passes so much of the traffic of that city.”

Construction of Pennsylvania Station. Museum of the City of New York Photo Archive.X2010.11.5087

Irving Underhill. Penn R. R. Depot, 7th Avenue & 33rd St. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.28.720

Berenice Abbott. Federal Art Project. Pennsylvania Station. Museum of the City of New York. 43.131.2.100

In 1961, owners of Madison Square Garden announced that the entertainment arena would be moving from its  location on Eighth Avenue between 49th and 50th Streets to the site of Penn Station.  The relocation would require the demolition of the Penn Station structure, billed by Garden officials as necessary for modernization and progress. But the decision to demolish Penn Station was a controversial one. A New York Times article from October 29, 1963 bemoaned the change: “A building that sometimes made a ceremony out of a journey, the station reached the end of the line, architecturally, at 9 A.M. Electric jackhammers tore at the granite slabs of the side of the terminal near the 33rd Street entrance, crushing the hopes of a band of architects who had rallied to save what the Municipal Art Society called ‘one of the great monuments of classical America.’”  Partly in response to Penn Station’s demolition, NYC’s Landmarks Preservation Commission was established in 1965.

Aaron Rose. The demolition of Pennsylvania Station, 1964-1965. Museum of the City of New York. 01.30.43

Aaron Rose. The demolition of Pennsylvania Station, 1964-1965. Museum of the City of New York. 01.30.78

Aaron Rose. The demolition of Pennsylvania Station, 1964-1965. Museum of the City of New York. 01.30.33

The specter of the Vietnam War appears in season 4, with a character preparing to be shipped off to Vietnam.

Line in an Army reception station. Museum of the City of New York Photo Archive. X2010.11.13987

Benedict J. Fernandez. Burning of Draftcards. 1963. Museum of the City of New York. 99.150.17

As these photos illustrate, attitudes about the war were divergent and often politically divisive. Below is Martin Luther King, Jr., marching with pediatrician Dr. Spock and labor activist Monsignor Rice in the Spring Mobilization for Peace in 1967.

Benedict J. Fernandez. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Dr. Benjamin Spock and Monsignor Rice. Museum of the City of New York. 99.150.9

Benedict J. Fernandez. Pro-Vietnam War Demonstration, New York, 1970. Museum of the City of New York. 99.150.15

We look forward to seeing more of New York City’s history replayed in season 5 of Mad Men.

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Posted in Digital Project, Photo Archive, Photography Collection, Theater Collection

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South Street Seaport’s Library and Archive

Posted on March 13, 2012 by | 2 Comments

Greetings from the South Street Seaport Museum’s library and archive!  In October of last year the Museum of the City of New York assumed the operation of the South Street Seaport Museum.  Organizing and cataloging items in the Seaport Museum’s library and archive is one of many projects undertaken in the new administration.  I left my position on the digital team and moved downtown where I’m now working with Carol, the project archivist at the Seaport Museum. She and I are hard at work tackling various projects.

So far, we’ve begun work cataloging and re-housing the photography collection, which contains thousands of negatives, slides, and prints of ships at port, docked at the South Street Seaport, and at sail in New York Harbor, as well as more general marine topics.

Sailing ship, ca. 1900. South Street Seaport Museum. Photography Collection.

Fisherman, ca. 1915. South Street Seaport Museum. Joe Cantalupo Fishing Schooner Collection.

Carol created and arranged the Passenger Liner collection, one of the larger collections in the archives. Programs, photographs, passenger lists, schedules, and promotional brochures are among the many items found in this collection.

Luggage Tags, ca. 1955. South Street Seaport Museum. Passenger Liner Collection.

Matchbooks, ca. 1930-1950. South Street Seaport Museum. Passenger Liner Collection.

We’ve also started to inventory and survey a very large collection of ship plans.  There are over 30,000 drawings and while we’ve just begun to see what’s here, we’ve already found great objects, including an almost complete set of plans for J. P. Morgan’s yacht, Corsair.  In the center of the plan you can see a white square, which is an alteration to the design made a day after the original was drafted, perhaps to conform to Morgan’s taste.

Position of Fire Place for the Yacht Corsair (detail), 1920. South Street Seaport Museum. W & A Fletcher Collection.

Part of this process includes cleaning.  Some plans date as far back as the 1870′s,  and occasionally they are in need of basic treatment to remove dirt.  Soiled objects are cleaned with an archival paper cleaner, which is rubbed against the object’s surface, much like one would use an eraser (visible in the first image).  Below is a particularly dramatic illustration of a drawing “before and after.”

Beam Strap for Engine No. 92, 1879. South Street Seaport Museum. W & A Fletcher Collection.

Beam Strap for Engine No. 92, 1879. South Street Seaport Museum. W & A Fletcher Collection.

Beam Strap for Engine No. 92, 1879. South Street Seaport Museum. W & A Fletcher Collection.

Stay tuned for more updates and stories of our finds in the South Street Seaport Museum’s archives!

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