Author Archives: Lissa Rivera

Byron and Company. Show at Coney Island with a man “levitating” a woman on stage, ca. 1908. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.3425.

“There’s a place in France where the naked ladies dance…”

Although many know this tune (there are surely hundreds of regional interpretations), few know of its origin and its importance to the New York City midway and sideshows of the early nineteenth century.  Best known as “The Streets of Cairo,” it is oftentimes connected to visions of Arabia and Egypt, to snake charmers, belly dancers, and other mysterious notions of Near East mysticism. Although not quite “a place in France,” there were certain locations in New York where the fabled song came to life. “The Streets of Cairo” sideshow was constructed on Surf Avenue, Coney Island, after the success of the Algerian Village at the World’s Columbian Exhibition in Chicago in 1893. Sol Bloom, the entertainment director of the Columbian exposition, claimed to have composed the melody as the theme for the “Algerian” performances. (The song can actually be traced back much further to the 1700s Arabic song “Kradoutja”). Because Bloom did not copyright the song, New York vaudevillian entertainers quickly purloined the tune.

Byron and Company. Crowd wandering through the “Streets of Cairo” show with camels at Coney Island, ca 1896. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.3398.

The Victorian taste for Oriental exoticism was insatiable. It was a time of ardent ethnographic interest; the richly illustrated National Geographic Magazine launched in 1888 and commercial photographs of the region were sold for home entertainment in the form of stereographs and ready-made travel albums. The awe-inspiring sight of the ancient, enigmatic pyramids and startlingly divergent culture was both frightening and alluring. During a time when overseas tourism was reserved for the elite, “The Streets of Cairo” transformed the sands of Coney Island Beach into that of an Arabic desert for the middle and working classes. It is likely that the Atlantic Ocean beyond its walls was a welcomed mirage on sweltering summer days.

Byron and Company. Crowd watching a barker at the “Streets of Cairo” show at Coney Island, ca 1896. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.3393.

The above photograph depicts the carnival “barker.”  Perhaps he is shouting this enticing pitch:

“This way for the Streets of Cairo! One hundred and fifty Oriental beauties! The warmest spectacle on earth! Pre-sen-ting Little Egypt! See her prance, see her wriggle! See her dance the Hootchy Kootchy! Anywhere else but in the ocean breezes of Coney Island she would be consumed by her own fire! Don’t rush! Don’t crowd! Plenty of seats for all!…When she dances, every fiber and every tissue in her entire anatomy shakes like a jar of jelly from your grandmother’s Thanksgiving dinner. Now, gentlemen, I don’t say that she’s hot. But I do say that she is as hot as a red hot stove on the fourth day of July in the hottest county in the state.”
–Good Old Coney Island, Edo McCullough

Byron and Company. Woman gypsy/dancer posing outside at Coney Island, ca 1896. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.3388.

“Little Egypt” became an adopted stage name for the main dancers of the “Streets of Cairo” exhibit, the most famous of whom were Farida Mazar Spyropoulos, Ashea Wabe, and Fatima Djemille. The “hootchy cootchy” they performed was a caricature of traditional Middle Eastern dance that was more like an early form of burlesque. Although under an ethnographic guise, this risqué performance was perceived as quite provocative at the time.  This oriental cliché quickly became a fad (up to 20 “cootchy shows” would be performed at one time) and “Little Egypt” attained celebrity status. Ashea Wabe made front page news when she was busted for dancing at socialite Herbert Seeley’s Fifth Avenue Bachelor Party in 1896; the scandal came to an unfortunate end in 1906 when she was found dead by asphyxiation, leaving behind a $200,000 fortune.

Byron and Company. Woman gypsy/dancer seated in her side-show theatre at Coney Island, ca 1896. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.3386.

This photograph depicts a “Little Egypt” dancer smoking a Hookah in her harem. One can imagine the scent of tobacco and incense in the densely packed theatre. Even at Coney Island, the attire of the audience would have been conservative, with suit jackets and long dresses scarcely baring an ankle or wrist. In stark contrast, the dancer’s gauzy silks and potentially exposed midriff must have been startling.

Byron and Company. A woman in a carnival or side-show with three large pythons, ca 1895. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.14254.

A precedent to “The Streets of Cairo,” female snake charmers added a touch of Eastern mysticism to the classic side show lineup. The snake charming tradition dates back to Ancient Egypt and is still practiced today at the Coney Island Circus Sideshow.

Byron and Company. Arabian Acrobats demonstrating acrobatic feats on the roof of Hammerstein’s Victoria Theatre, ca 1908. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.15700.

For those who chose not to make the expedition down to Coney Island for their Oriental fix, the uniquely landscaped roof of Hammerstein’s Victoria (42nd Street at 7th Avenue) served as an alternative. Hammerstein produced a vaudeville adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s Salomé that emphasized  the notorious “Dance of the Seven Veils” and ran an astonishing 22 weeks. The above photograph depicts the incredible feats of strength performed by Arabic acrobats, it is possible that a similar display was presented as an opening act.

Byron and Company. The operatic adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s “Salome” with music by Richard Strauss, presented at the Metropolitan Opera House on January 22, 1907. Museum of the City of New York. 41.420.688.

 In 1907 the Near East dance fad attempted to cross over from sideshow to center stage when the Metropolitan Opera presented Richard Strauss’s interpretation of Oscar Wilde’s Salomé. It was the most elaborate and expensive production to date, costing nearly $20,000. The famous belly dance and kissing finalé was considered a disgrace and the show closed after the opening night, and would not be performed at the Met again for twenty-seven years.  The  New York Times  headline bluntly states the reaction of the upper class: “How the Audience Took It: Many Disgusted by the Dance and the Kissing of the Head.”

Byron and Company. Beggar among the crowd on Surf Avenue, Coney Island, ca 1896. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.3431.

As the first wave of British and French colonialism came to an end,  the tawdry cultural stereotypes of the Middle East lost popularity in the sideshow  circuit.  Although the Hootchy Cootchy show faded from view as if an apparition, American culture remains deeply entranced by the melody. The next time you hear the infamous tune, peer through the “hole in the wall” to old New York and, if possible, allow yourself to be seduced by Little Egypt.

William Davis Hassler, Two Self Portraits of With and Without Hat, ca. 1917. Museum of the City of New York, 01.35.1.109 and 01.35.1.109

Like a patient waiting for a miracle cure, New York City embraced the arrival of photography as the perfect elixir. It was the missing ingredient for the modern city, a tool that could record the rapidly expanding metropolis, a technology that was immediate enough to keep up with the ‘now’. The Photographer quickly became a permanent fixture within the cityscape. Entrepreneurial practitioners promptly inhabited studios and streets as brave explorers of the uncharted territories of recorded vision.

A Professional Photographer, May 26, 1923. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.13406

Robert L. Bracklow, Photographer Taking a Portrait Outside of a Tintypes Booth in the Snow, 1880. Museum of the City of New York, 93.91.271.

Robert L. Bracklow, Photography Instruction School and Lab. Ca. 1900. Museum of the City of New York, 93.91.179.

The photographer was the illustrator of society, the scientist, the investigator, the surveyor, the celebrity maker, the genealogist, and the chronicler of memory.  Demand for images opened up the floodgates to practitioners and this competition fueled ingenuity. Occupational self-portraits proclaim a new profession independent from tradition. Images of photographers taken by photographers illustrate a developing self-awareness, an inventiveness and an introspection at once calculating and as casual as the experience of noticing one’s reflection in a shop window.

The Byron Company portrait (below) taken from the roof of Marceau’s photography studio exudes industrial optimism. There is a sense that these men have found the magic looking glass, a portal to the Mythic City, the tool that connected them  to the stars of the theater, to the godlike architects, to the highest society dinners, to political parades, and then down the damp gas-lit streets to the immigrant laundresses, the street peddlers, and opium den dealings.  Studios such as Byron offered their hand to every imaginable commission; it is unknown if they foresaw the historical value that their images would hold in the future.  There are over 23,000 Byron Co. prints digitized on the Museum of the City of New York’s Collection Portal.

Byron Company, Uncle Joe Byron, Pirie MacDonald, Colonel Marceau, Pop Core, Ben Falk-New York, 1920. Museum of the City of New York, 93.1.4.16.

Byron Company, Side view of Byron Co. photographers posing together for a photograph on the roof of Marceau’s Studio, 1920. Museum of the City of New York, 93.1.4.18.

Photography had weight: the weight of the glass plates, the tripod, and the view camera with all of its girth. Commercial photographers continued to use view cameras throughout the 20th century, because of the unparalleled detail of a large format negative (imaging formats 4×5 inches or larger). When the dark cloth is over one’s head, it becomes an extension of the body, merging man and machine, the tripod adding three extra legs.

Byron Company. Photographer at the Tiffany-Cameron Wedding, Staten Island. 1895. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.18331.

By the 1900s photographers sought out every angle; there was no height too dangerous to defeat the temptation of a perfect view. William Davis Hassler’s self portrait (below), shows Hassler confidently balancing on the steel bars of a two-story high cable car crossbeam. The following image is a view taken by Hassler atop the Manhattan Bridge from a similarly precarious point of view (remember: these are 11×14 inch glass negatives!). The image of his home studio shows eight heavy carrying cases for cameras and equipment.

William Davis Hassler, Standing on Superstructure above Train Tracks, ca. 1917. Museum of the City of New York, 01.35.1.45.

William Davis Hassler, Manhattan Bridge, ca. 1917. Museum of the City of New York, 01.35.1.81.

William David Hassler, Home Studio, 1919. Museum of the City of New York, 01.35.1.13.

John Albok captures himself in a mirror. To the left is a work suit that is professional and unassuming, a uniform fitting for a man who blends like a fly on the wall of brick and mortar avenues (Albok was also a tailor). His photographs hang askew on the studio walls; casual images of a young girl and the skyline at sunset can be made out. His gaze is looking slightly up toward the reflection of his room as if there is a deep sense of affinity with his work and devotion to his City. The studio, with its heavy hot lights and cables, is an appendage of his vision. 

John Albok, Self Portrait in Store with Camera, 1976. Museum of the City of New York, 82.68.35.

These later images of Arthur Rothstein (taken in 1957) and Andreas Feininger (taken in 1975) recall the Byron and Co. self-portrait. The safety-mirror ball creates a lens-like distortion similar the shape of the human eye.

Arthur Rothstein, Arthur Rothstein Photographing Buildings, 1957. Museum of the City of New York, X2011.4.7552-57.75.

Andreas Feininger, Reflection, 6th Ave, 1975, Museum of the City of New York, 90.40.35.

Wurts Bros. Broadway and Exchange Place. Norman Wurts making photos from 4th-story ledge on Exchange Court Building, 1937. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.8427.

Arthur Rothstein and Frank Bauman, Man taking pictures of Dilapidated Buildings while Standing on an Excavator, 1957, Museum of the City of New York, X2011.4.7552-57.120B.

Above, a photographer climbs the bulldozer in the desperate last attempt to record a structure before demolition in Arthur Rothstein’s expose for LOOK magazine, titled Changing New York.

Bob Hansen, Everyone is Taking Pictures, Woman and Man Looking at a Camera, 1946. Museum of the City of New York, X2011.4.10301.224.

After the invention of flexible roll film and smaller format cameras, the amateur photographer became a ubiquitous figure in the City. By the 1940s, the camera-laden hobbyist and the tourist became a common New York caricature. Sightseers perplexed by the vertigo of skyscrapers stopped dead still in pedestrian traffic to get a trophy image of the Empire State or Chrysler Buildings. The image above, from a tongue-in-cheek LOOK story, Everyone is Taking Pictures, depicts a professional photographer’s impression of these new image-takers.

Wurts Brothers, Photographers Shooting the Train exhibition at the World’s Fair, 1939. Museum of the City of New York, X2010.7.1.14980.

The profession would undergo many changes over the coming decades as the immediacy of photography and the increase of human intimacy with the camera would assimilate the photographic impulse in society. Throughout the 20th century, the role of the photographer expanded from the scientist-inventor to artist and social worker and then that of the citizen reporter. Over the years cameras would shrink in size, enabling mobility and making them increasingly personal objects, decreasing the specialized role of professional photographers and making the photograph a more intimate reflection of human lives. Now everyone has become a recorder of city life and the bold objective photographic visions from the past are presently the multiple subjective viewpoints of a ubiquitous technology.