Category Archives: Photo Archive

The Mysterious Little Egypt of Coney Island

Show at Coney Island with a man "levitating" a woman on stage.

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.

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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.

Crowd watching a barker at the "Streets of Cairo" show at Coney Island.

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

Woman gypsy/dancer posing outside at Coney Island.

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.

Woman gypsy/dancer seated in her side-show theatre at Coney Island.

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.

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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.

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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.


Streets Of Cairo aka Snake Charmer aka The Poor Little Country Maid from O.Є. on Vimeo.

The Photographer’s Mirror

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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.

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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, 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

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, 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.

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

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, Self Portrait Standing on Superstructure above train tracks, ca. 1917. Museum of the City of New York, 01.35.1.45.

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

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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. 

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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.

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

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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

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.

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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.

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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 Bros., Photographers shooting the train exhibition at the World’s Fair, 1939. Museum of the City of New York, X2010.7.1.14980.

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.

A Century of Grand Central Terminal

There’s no place like Grand Central. The sheer scale and elegance of the main concourse transforms the daily commute into a complex choreography as commuters and tourists negotiate through the hallways, overheard conversations turn into mysterious plots of other people’s dramas, and what can be mundane becomes a unique experience. Grand Central has seen a steady tide of humanity for the past 100 years,  becoming  a beloved  New York landmark.

The first Grand Station Station on 42nd Street was Grand Central Depot, a beautiful but almost immediately obsolete building that was shared by the Harlem,  New Haven, and Vanderbilt’s New York Central Railroads. Its glass topped train yard, seen below, was based on St. Pancras in London and was the largest train station in the States at the time. Yet each railroad had its individual waiting rooms and tracks making it “ill-arranged, dark and repelling”. (For more of this fantastically in-depth complaint of the old station in the New York Times, click here   and here.)

Unknown. Grand Central Terminal. ca. 1885. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.2776.

Unknown. Grand Central Terminal. ca. 1885. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.2776.

What was even worse than the interior was the jumble of tracks and belching of steam engines that rumbled down Fourth Avenue from Harlem. The streets from 42nd to 59th were intersected by train tracks which meant that merely crossing the street was so dangerous that for a while, Fourth Avenue was called “Death Avenue. (Read the fabulous 1913 article about the opening of the station.)  This was more or less fine when the surrounding areas were still relatively rural, but as the population of New York increased and respectable classes moved farther uptown, it made the area less than desirable.  Thankfully, a shift in technology came at just the right time. In 1900 trains were switching to electric power, which eliminated the unsightly steam, the omnipresent cinders, and noise.  By 1903  steam engines were banned in the city, and with new tunnels effectively hiding all hints of the railroads, Fourth (or Death) Avenue completed its transformation into Park Avenue.

Unknown. Grand Central Terminal. 1906. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.2820.

Unknown. Grand Central Terminal. 1906. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.2820.

In 1903,  as the plans for Penn Station were nearing completion, it was clear that a new Grand Central needed to be built if New York Central Railroad wanted to remain relevant.  So the heads of New York Central had a contest for the new station that reads almost like a Who’s Who of Gilded Age architecture – even McKim, Mead and White submitted a proposal: Stanford White’s fanciful  concept of a 60-story building topped by a tower of steam 300 feet tall and illuminated red at night.

McKim, Mead & White. Grand Central Terminal proposal. ca. 1903. museum of the City of New York. 90.44.1.486

McKim, Mead & White. Grand Central Terminal proposal. ca. 1903. museum of the City of New York. 90.44.1.486.

But it was St. Louis architectural firm Reed & Stern that eventually got the commission.  The New York firm of  Warren & Wetmore became consulting architects mostly due to Whitney Warren being the cousin of William Vanderbilt. However tumultuous the relationship between the architects may have been, the resulting building was a perfect marriage of their ideals. Reed & Stern were responsible for the effortless blending of engineering and design, but  it was Warren who elevated the building into art with Beaux-Arts details.

Unknown. Grand Central Terminal. ca. 1910. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.2818.

Unknown. Grand Central Terminal. ca. 1910. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.2818.

The construction of Grand Central was one of the biggest projects at that point in the history of Manhattan.  10 years passed; $65 million was spent; and  3.2 million cubic yards of earth and rock were removed. “The daily detritus, coupled with debris from the demolition of the old station, amounted to 1,000 cubic yards and filled nearly 300 railway dump cars…At peak periods, 10,000 workers were assigned to the site and work progressed around the clock.” (New York Times)  The scope of the project is astounding: Grand Central was built on 70 acres with 31.8 miles of tracks and 30 platforms totally eclipsing its nearest competitor, Penn Station, which was built on 23 acres and boasted 16 miles of tracks and 11 platforms.  Grand Central opened to the public on February 2, 1913 and New York has never been the same.

Unknown. Grand Central Terminal construction. ca. 1905. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.2804

Unknown. Grand Central Terminal construction. ca. 1905. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.2804.

Dr. Percy Fridenberg. Construction of Grand Central Terminal. ca. 1911. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.5467.

Dr. Percy Fridenberg. Construction of Grand Central Terminal. ca. 1911. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.5467.

The New York Times reported that in its first day 150,000 people visited Grand Central and were immediately in awe. Some of the more incredible features that have since fallen the wayside, such as women-only shoe polishing rooms safe from men catching a glimpse of ankle, and of course a separate hair parlor just in case the commute made her curls limp. What is really amazing is that for a mere 25 cents a woman could hire a private dressing room complete with a maid to make sure she would be ready for any social function. Men were not left out of these kinds of perks. They had private barber shops which offered shaves by a team of barbers who could speak up to 30 languages. A man could also rent a valet to make sure he was flawlessly fashionable.  And if tragedy were to strike either sex, the station doctor would be there within moments to treat them. It was the epitome of luxury.

Unknown. Grand Central Station. ca. 1918. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.2827.

Unknown. Grand Central Station. ca. 1918. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.2827.

Unknown. Interior, Grand Central. ca. 1918. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.2798.

Unknown. Interior, Grand Central. ca. 1918. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.2798.

Irving Underhill (d. 1960). Grand Central Depot, 42nd St. 1914. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.28.297.

Irving Underhill (d. 1960). Grand Central Depot, 42nd St. 1914. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.28.297.

For the next 50 years Grand Central was the epicenter of New York. Everyone passed through the terminal.  However, the decline of train travel affected Grand Central as much as it did the less fortunate Penn Station. During World War II the once grand skylights were painted over. By the 1950s, decades of nicotine tar coated the once blue constellation-adorned ceiling, and the east balcony had been covered with a giant Kodak advertisement. During the 1970s and 1980s it became the center of  one of largest homeless populations in New York.

John Harry Lufbery. Kodachrome Ad, Grand Central Station, #2. 1947. Museum of the City of New York. 2004.18.5

John Harry Lufbery. Kodachrome Ad, Grand Central Station, #2. 1947. Museum of the City of New York. 2004.18.5.

Save Grand Central. ca. 1968. Museum of the City of New York. 97.102.29

Save Grand Central. ca. 1968. Museum of the City of New York. 97.102.29.

In 1963, Pennsylvania Station was demolished (read our previous blog about its destruction here)  and by 1975  it looked like Grand Central would be next on the chopping block. But thanks to the recently created Landmark Preservation Board and supporters like Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, it was spared from becoming an office building.

Starting in 1993, Grand Central underwent a badly needed restoration and has now returned to its previous glory. Sunlight is again streaming in, the constellations twinkle on the ceiling, and the mere act of traveling is once again elegant.

Wurts Bros. (New York, N.Y.) Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.1695.

Wurts Bros. (New York, N.Y.) Interior of Grand Central. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.16795.

 

Click here for more images of Grand Central from the Museum’s collection.

Winter in the City

In case you missed it, winter descended on New York City last week. Freezing temperatures (the coldest in two years), snow, and wind made many New Yorkers remember why they love the summer.  To observe the late arrival of winter, and the snow that’s falling as this is being written, here are some of our favorite winter images.

There is something undeniably magical about New York in the winter. The fall of snow on skyscrapers muffles the usual street noises until you can almost believe you’re walking in an earlier time. Blankets of snow transform the hard geometries of familiar sights like Herald Square and the Flatiron Building with the soft brush-like strokes of impressionist art.

Byron Company (New York, N.Y.) Broadway North from 34th Street. 1899. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.17918

Byron Company (New York, N.Y.). Broadway North from 34th Street. 1899. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.17918.

Jessie Tarbox Beals. Flatiron Building. ca. 1905. Museum of the City of New York. 91.53.38.

Jessie Tarbox Beals. Flatiron Building. ca. 1905. Museum of the City of New York. 91.53.38.

Central Park has been the place to enjoy winter in Manhattan since it opened in 1857. Generations of New Yorkers have skated, sledded, had snowball fight,s and simply enjoyed nature in its 843 acres. (If you want to see an amazing 1898 short film by Edison depicting the splendor of Central Park in the winter, especially sleighing, go here.)

Currier & Ives. Central Park in Winter. ca. 1885. Museum of the City of New York. 57.100.5.2

Currier & Ives. Central Park in Winter. ca. 1885. Museum of the City of New York. 57.100.5.2.

While this Currier and Ives print has sleighing in the forefront, New Yorkers have found ways many ways to enjoy the snow throughout the boroughs.

The ever popular sledding in Central Park:

Unknown. Sleigh riding in Central Park. 1897. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.1313.

Skating with friends:

Wurts Bros. (New York, N.Y.). Brooklyn Friends Seminary – ice skating. 1940. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.12630.

And proving that New Yorkers are nothing, if not intrepid:

Unknown. Bicycle in the snow, C. W. Hadley at the handlebars. 1898. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.13336

Unknown. Bicycle in the snow, C. W. Hadley at the handlebars. 1898. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.13336.

In all the five boroughs, during winter, you can feel like you’re in the depths of nature and not in one of the largest cities in the world.

Irving Underhill (d. 1960). Central Park Snow Scene. 1923.Muiseum of the City of New York. X2010.28.362

Irving Underhill (d. 1960). Central Park Snow Scene. 1923.Museum of the City of New York. X2010.28.362.

George Miller, Jr. When Winter Comes - Riverdale - N.Y. City. ca. 1930. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.12.152

George Miller, Jr. When Winter Comes – Riverdale – N.Y. City. ca. 1930. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.12.152.

Enjoy the rest of the of winter, whatever it might bring!

Click here to view more images of winter and New Yorkers having fun in the snow from the Museum’s collection.

The Great Crystal Palace Fire of 1858

The New York Crystal Palace was a cast-iron and steel structure completed in 1853  on the site of current day Bryant Park, located between 42nd and 40th streets to the north and south, the Croton Distributing Reservoir (current location of the Stephen A. Schwarzman  Building of the New York Public Library) to the east, and Sixth Avenue to the west.  The structure, designed by architects Georg J. B. Carstensen and Charles Gildermeister in the shape of a Greek cross, featured a dome at its center and was reputed to be fireproof.

Print issued by John Bachmann. Birds Eye View of the New York Crystal Palace and Environs. John Bachmann, 1853. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.2387

Program for the Inauguration of the Crystal Palace, 1853, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.3357.

The Crystal Palace was built to house what is often thought of as the first United States world’s fair — known as the “Exhibition of Industry of All Nations” –  which opened to the public  on July 14, 1853.  The building and the exhibition were inspired by similar events held in London in 1851 and Dublin in 1852, featuring agricultural products and industrial innovations.  Elisha Otis first obtained widespread attention for his new invention, the elevator, at the fair in 1854.   The fair also celebrated the fine arts, showcasing a collection of sculpture and paintings.   While the fair included exhibitors from around the world, those from the United States were most numerous.

Initially, the fair was very popular and no visit to New York could be complete without a visit to the Crystal Palace.  Attendees purchased souvenirs that included canes, clothing, ash trays, medals, spoons, thimbles, and objects such as the plaque pictured below.

Souvenir plaque of the Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations, New York, 1853-1854, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 43.118.14.

However, by the latter part of its first year, the Crystal Palace exposition began to suffer from declining attendance.   Theodore Sedgwick, the first president of the Crystal Palace Association, resigned and was replaced with the grand entertainer Phineas T. Barnum.  When the exhibition finally closed on November 1, 1854, despite the change in leadership and paid attendance exceeding 0ne million, the sponsors of the fair were left with $300,000 in debt.  When the Crystal Palace reopened, it was leased as a space for special events and continued to host the Fair of the American Institute, previously held at Niblo’s Garden, for the next few years.

Judge’s ticket during the 29th Annual Fair of the American Institute at the Crystal Palace, 1857, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 36.409.58.

Attendance to events at the Crystal Palace continued to dwindle and by 1856, according to The New York Times, it was considered a “piece of dead property.”  Perhaps the low attendance was considered a blessing when, on October 5, 1858, the Crystal Palace caught fire while hosting the American Institute Fair.  A letter in the Museum’s collection from Franklin Harvey Biglow to his sister Elizabeth Biglow describes being present at the Crystal Palace on the day of the fire, and how the entire structure collapsed in “not more than ten minutes from the time the alarm was given.”   Biglow was likely an exhibitor at the 30th Annual American Institute Fair, as suggested in his statement in the letter: “Very little of the immense value in goods & merchandise was saved.  My cases and contents went with the rest, my actual loss will not vary much from $900 dollars”–the equivalent of $23,050 in 2012.  Click here to view the full letter.  The total losses from the fire were estimated at approximately $500,000 (the equivalent of $12,802,150 today ), including the value of the building, exhibits, and statuary still installed from the time of the “Exhibition of Industry of All Nations.”  Nearly 2,000 people were inside when the fire broke out, but no one was injured.  The Museum also holds a chunk of glass salvaged from the burnt structure (accession number 36.407) in the collection.

Photographer unknown. Crystal Palace Interior, ca. 1855. Photo Archives. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.5044.

Click here to view more images of the Crystal Palace from the Museum’s collection.

Brooklyn’s Boweries

A few months ago I attended the Wyckoff House’s country fair, held on the grounds of New York City’s oldest surviving building. The house is an anachronism among the car lots and fast food restaurants dotting the intersection of East 58th Street and Clarendon Road in the East Flatbush-Flatlands neighborhood of Brooklyn.

Simon Benepe. New York (N.Y.). Dept. of Parks and Recreation. Wyckoff House. 1988. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.7902

Built around 1652, the Wyckoff House was originally a Dutch West India Company bowerie, or farm. Pieter Claesen Wyckoff, a Dutch immigrant and indentured servant, acquired the farm in 1652 after his term of servitude expired. Succeeding descendants of Pieter Wyckoff continued to live in the house and farm the land until 1901. Miraculously, the structure survived the rapid development of Brooklyn in the 20th century, and was the first landmark in the five boroughs designated by the Landmarks Preservation Commission upon its establishment in 1965.

Josephine Barry. Wyckoff House, oldest bldg. in the 5 boroughs. 1948. Museum of the City of New York. 75.43.13

Of course, Brooklyn was once home to many Dutch farms, whose landowners took advantage of the fertile land and surrounding marshes and basins. Vestiges of this heritage remain, in one form or another.

The Van Pelt Manor house was built around 1686, at what is now the intersection of 18th Avenue and 82nd Street in Bensonhurst’s Milestone Park.

Van Pelt manor house. 1911. Museum of the City of New York Photo Archives. X2010.11.7899

Well at the Van Pelt house. 1903. Museum of the City of New York Photo Archives. X2010.11.7900

The Van Pelt family lived in the house until 1910, when Townsend Cortelyou Van Pelt deeded the estate to the city’s Parks & Recreation department on the “express condition that the said premises be used and maintained as a site for exhibiting and preserving thereon a certain old Dutch milestone.” The milestone in question is the oldest extant in the city, in the possession of the Brooklyn Historical Society. A replica can be found inside the park. The house, unfortunately, burned down in 1952.

Josephine Barry. Van Pelt Manor House, Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. ca. 1950. Museum of the City of New York. 75.43.15

The Vechte-Cortelyou house stood on what is now 4th Avenue between 3rd and 4th Streets in Park Slope. Built by Nicholas Vechte in 1699, the farmhouse was well situated near the Gowanus Creek, facilitating the harvest of oysters and the transport of goods down the waterway to Lower Manhattan.

Brooklyn Daily Eagle. The Vechte-Cortelyou House at Gowanus in 1699. ca. 1915. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.34.1889

The house also played an important role during the American Revolution. During the Battle of Brooklyn in 1776, British troops took over the house and used it as an artillery position against patriots running for their lives across the Gowanus Creek. After the war, the house was sold to the Cortelyou family. The original structure is no longer standing, but in the 1930s  a replica was built in an adjacent space, using some original stones. It is now called the Old Stone House.

Elijah C. Middleton. Cortelyou House, a Relic of 1776. ca. 1800. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.3546

The Lefferts house was built around 1783 by Pieter Lefferts, a fourth-generation Dutch American and lieutenant in the Continental Army during the Revolutionary War. Here it is below, in its original location at 563 Flatbush Avenue in the Prospect Lefferts Gardens section of Flatbush, Brooklyn.

Lefferts homestead. ca. 1900. Museum of the City of New York Photo Archives. X2010.11.7679

In 1917, the estate of John Lefferts, Pieter’s son, offered the house to the City of New York, on the condition that the house be moved to Prospect Park. The move took place in 1918, and the house remains in the park today.

Lefferts homestead. ca. 1935. Museum of the City of New York Photo Archives. X2010.11.7841

Click on this link to view more images of Brooklyn’s boweries. These images are all available in various sizes as museum quality archival prints. If you see something you want to hang on your wall, email us at reproductions@mcny.org

The Beecher-Tilton Affair

What do women’s rights, religion, and sex all have in common?  The Beecher – Tilton Affair.

Photographer unknown.Henry Ward Beecher, ca. 1860. Museum of the City of New York. 33.153.1

Henry Ward Beecher was the first minister of the Plymouth Church, in Brooklyn, appointed in 1847.   Raised as one of thirteen children (including half-siblings) in a strict Presbyterian household in Litchfield, Connecticut, Beecher was somewhat reticent and bashful as a child,  but grew to be a charismatic  preacher.  Beecher was popular amongst his congregation, and according to some sources, especially so with young, attractive women.   Rather than preaching the harsh judgment of God, as his father had, Beecher spoke of the loving presence of God.  Beecher was known for taking stands against slavery and anti-Semitism; and championing women’s suffrage, temperance, and education.

Illustration from Harper’s Weekly. “Get Thee Behind Me, (Mrs.) Satan!” Thomas Nast (1840-1902), 1872. Museum of the City of New York. 99.124.22.

Despite Beecher’s belief in certain equal rights for women, such as the right to vote, Beecher was not in favor of complete equality for women.  He spoke out against Victoria Clafin Woodhull’s concept of “free-love,” or in other words, the right of women to marry, divorce, and bear children without the interference of the government, same as a man.  Woodhull and her sister Tennessee were both advocates of women’s rights, and an excerpt from One Moral Standard for All: Extracts from the lives of Victoria Clafin Woodhull and Tennessee Clafin, states “if a male debauchee is allowed to circulate in respectable society and marry women with unsoiled robes, then the female debauchee should be allowed the same privileges and be treated in the same manner.  This is justice – not mercy, not charity!” (Museum of the City of New York.  F2011.16.7).

Woodhull accused Beecher of hypocrisy, claiming that he himself practiced the very sort of free-love principles he denounced to his congregation, and was in fact involved in an affair with a married woman, Elizabeth Tilton.   Elizabeth Tilton and her husband Theodore were both members of the Plymouth Church Congregation.   According to Richard Wightman Fox, author of Trials of Intimacy: Love and Loss in the Beecher-Tilton Scandal, Theodore Tilton was once one of Beecher’s most committed devotees.  The two had a deep personal relationship, as well as a professional relationship through their work on the editorial content of the national religious journal Independent.   Beecher even presided over the Tiltons’ marriage.

(left) Photographer unknown. Theodore Tilton, ca. 1870. Museum of the City of New York. F2012.58.1235. (right) Pendleton Photographers. Elizabeth Titlon, ca. 1870. Museum of the City of New York. F2012.58.1236.

 The Beecher-Tilton Affair was alleged to have taken place during the 1860s,  when, due to conflict in the relationship and Theodore’s extended absences related to his work, Elizabeth sought the companionship of Beecher.   In 1870, Elizabeth confessed to her husband that she had engaged in an adulterous relationship with Beecher.  The confession was soon well-known among certain influential members of Plymouth Church, and eventually reached the ears of Woodhull, who then made the confession public.  Beecher and Theodore badgered Elizabeth to retract her confession, then retract the retraction, respectively.  By 1873, Theodore Tilton was no longer editor of the Independent, and in fact the journal came down hard against Tilton and in support of Beecher.  Tilton was also excommunicated from the Plymouth Church congregation.

Despite much published evidence of the affair, Plymouth Church exonerated Beecher, leading Theodore Tilton to bring suit against him in 1874 for “criminal intimacy” with his wife.

Admission card to “Tilton vs. Beecher,” 1875, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 32.287.6.

The trial was opened in January of 1875, and captivated the nation.  The significance of the trial was not lost on Beecher, as evidenced in the letter below, which states “But this poor note may have an extrinsic interest as being written at the climax of this remarkable trial.”

Letter from Henry Ward Beecher to Mrs. Southwick, June 24, 1875, in the Letters Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.3373.

At the close of the trial in July of 1975, the jury deliberated for six days, but could not reach a verdict.   Following the trial, Plymouth Church exonerated Beecher once again.  Theodore Tilton moved to Paris following the trial, where he lived out the remainder of his life.  Elizabeth Tilton remained a member of the Plymouth congregation until she, yet again, re-confessed to having an affair with Beecher in 1878.  At that point, she was also excommunicated from Plymouth Church.  Beecher remained a popular figure, though he never received quite the level of adulation he was accustomed to before the trial.

The Broadway-Lafayette Transfer and the Evolution of the City’s Subway

By the time you read this, there will have been a major improvement in the subways of New York City. If you don’t  ride the B, D, F, or M subway lines daily you might not be aware of an amazing addition to the Broadway-Lafayette subway station that’s opening today. For the first time since the station opened it will now be possible to transfer from the B, D, F, or M train to the uptown 6 at Bleecker Street without having to leave the station and pay for another ride on your Metrocard.

While transferring to the downtown 6 was a breeze, transferring uptown meant going above ground, where one could often find commuters wandering aimlessly in the triangle between Bleecker, Lafayette, and Houston, desperately looking for the entrance to the uptown 6.  According to the New York Times, the Broadway-Lafayette station is the sole example of a one-way transfer, making it unique amongst the 468 stations in MTA’s system. For examples of other transfer oddities and issues in the NYC subway system go  here.

MTA New York City Subway Map via http://www.mta.info.

In this map, you can see the small hump between Spring and Bleecker, indicating that the subway tracks did not connect. The exact reason for this is unknown, but there were many contributing factors including the fact that the Broadway-Lafayette and Bleecker Street stations were under control of the competing Interborough Rapid Transit Company (IRT) and the Independent Subway (IND). The city consolidated the IRT, IND, and the Brooklyn-Manhattan Transit (BMT) subway companies  in 1940 and constructed the downtown transfer shortly thereafter in 1947. The uptown transfer was further delayed because the platforms for the 6 train did not face each other. (The New York Times has a lovely graphic of the construction here.)  The project to ameliorate this problem began in 2005; after seven years and  a lot of money the humps and oddities have been smoothed over to make a more streamlined system…at least at this station. For the approximately 11,000 people who transfer here daily, it’s a long time coming.

In celebration of the opening we  put together a collection of images that show the construction and evolution of the  New York City subways.

The groundbreaking ceremony near the Broadway-Lafayette station:

First actual work at Bleecker and Greene Streets. ca. 1900. Museum of the City of New York.

Workers in the tunnels:

Engineers in tunnel during construction of present IRT at City Hall Station. ca. 1900. Museum of the City of New York. 46.245.2.

Mayor George B. McClellan taking the first ceremonial trip (the New York Times gives a very detailed account here):

Edward Levick. Mayor McClellan on first subway trip. 1904. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.13549.

The first PATH trains to New Jersey opened in 1908:

Byron Company (New York, N.Y.). Subway, Hudson Tubes. ca. 1908. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.14608.

The underground construction process has remained haunting  and intriguing through the years:

Pierre P. Pullis | G. W. Pullis. Subway tunnel construction at Lexington Avenue and 97th Street. 1913. Museum of the City of New York. 2000.52.51.

Byron Company (New York, N.Y.). Subways, Fourteenth Street Cut for Subway, #1. 1921. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.17085.

A worker doing above-ground work on the B, D, F, and M line. Even though the clothes, equipment and backdrop have radically changed from the earlier images of the first subway workers , the work remains much the same:

Andrew Herman. Federal Arts Project. 6th Avenue Subway Construction, 26th Street. ca. 1937. Museum of the City of New York. 43.131.13.14.

From the elegance of the very first, and now abandoned, City Hall station to the comfort of the El station and finally to the utilitarian designs of the present Canal Street station the evolution of subways stations is a topic in and of itself:

Ed Spiro. Change booth area, City Hall Station. 1972. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.13576.

Arnold Eagle. Interior of an unidentified station of the Third Avenue El. 1948. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.9042.

Subway station. ca. 1980. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.13587.

We’re intrigued to see what happens next to our subways.

Child between two subway cars. ca. 1965. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.14313.

Click on this links to view more images of subway scenes and tunnels from the Museum’s collections. These images are all available in various sizes as museum quality archival prints. If you see something you want to hang on your wall, email us at reproductions@mcny.org

The Curse of the Roeblings? The Construction of the Brooklyn Bridge

Samuel H. (Samuel Herman) Gottscho (1875-1971). Lower New York from foot of Manhattan Bridge. ca. 1930. museum of the City of New York. 88.1.5.12.

The Brooklyn Bridge is one of the most iconic symbols of New York. Try imagining the skyline without the looming Gothic towers. Now try to imagine no bridges over the East River to connect the separate cities of Brooklyn and Manhattan and having to rely on overcrowded, unreliable, and generally unsafe ferries. This was the reality of 1850s New York.  Yet the Brooklyn Bridge almost didn’t happen. Amid rumors of curses on the designer’s family, corruption, and death came amazing technological innovations and people doing incredible things.

The idea of putting a bridge across the East River wasn’t a new idea even in 1850. Plans were discussed, made, and scrapped regularly with strident opposition on basically every element, including the very big question of whether it was even possible to traverse the East River.  And, if it was, then at 1,600 feet across, it’d be the longest span of bridge in the world at that time.

To say that German immigrant John A. Roebling was born to meet this challenge would be a gross overstatement and cliche, but in this case it seems to work. He had created new forms of steel cables that aided his designs of technically brilliant bridges in Cincinnati and Niagara Falls.  In 1867, his plans for the “East River and Brooklyn Bridge” (its previous official name) were accepted by the Tammany Hall-controlled New York Bridge Company and he was named Chief Engineer.

John M. August Will (1834-1910). Sketch of View of Bridge from Sand St. Brooklyn. 1873. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.1986.

But, on June 28, 1869, as John A. Roebling was measuring possible locations for the towers of the bridge near the Fulton Ferry, a boat hit his foot and crushed his toes. Within a month, he died of tetanus.  His son and partner, 32 year-old Washington Roebling, overcame his grief and took over his father’s position as the Chief Engineer, determined to finish what they had started. This would not be the last tragedy or death that would befall the Roebling family, or the construction of the bridge.

Under Washington Roebling’s supervision the construction began in earnest on January 2, 1870. The first step was building caissons, which are watertight structures with a series of airlocks to provide dry underwater space for workers to dig the foundation into solid rock.  Roebling and his men worked in conditions described by Master Mechanic E.F. Farrington: ” The temperature in the caissons was about 80 [degrees], and the workmen, with half-naked bodies, seen in dim, uncertain light brought vividly to life Dante’s ‘Inferno’.”  But beyond bringing to life poetic masterpieces, there were far more real problems to contend with – fires and explosions plagued the caissons as did the deadly “caisson disease” now known as “the bends” or more technically, decompression sickness.  During the construction of the bridge, over one hundred men contracted and were killed or severely debilitated by caisson disease, including Washington Roebling.

S. A. (Silas A.) Holmes (1819 or 20-1886). New York Caisson nearly down. 1872. Museum of the City of New York. 57.15.4.

In early 1872,  after working 12 straight hours in the caisson, Roebling rose to the surface from the compressed air too quickly and according to some reports, promptly passed out. This began his lifelong battle with the disease that would cause him pain, partial paralysis, temporary loss of his voice and sight, and all sorts of other terrible symptoms that led him to be an invalid for rest of the construction of the bridge and most of his life, forcing him to become bedridden, threatening his position as Chief Engineer.

However, all was not lost.  Using a telescope from the bedroom window of his house on 106 Columbia Street in Brooklyn, Washington would give notes and directions to his wife Emily to take to the engineers on the bridge. Emily had taught herself the math and science to help her husband throughout the project, and now she was using her knowledge to oversee construction while also speaking to distributors, politicians, and all levels of workers, making so many important decisions that it was not long before some begin to think of her as the de facto Chief Engineer, going so far as to believe she was the true intelligence behind the bridge’s design and completion. Indeed, even the New York Times gave her credit right after the bridge opened (and keep in mind, this was at the height of the Gilded Age, when it was still debated if women could even actually learn).

But another 11 years passed as the bridge inched  slowly toward completion. There was fraud with sub par material, political and public outcry about the bridge being constantly delayed, and constant newspaper columns complaining about it going over budget. (For an 1878 article titled “Are We Wasting Money?”  that suggests that destroying the towers of the bridge would really be, in fact, the best way to proceed, click here.).  Adding to the drama was a last minute move by Mayor Seth Low to dismiss Washington Roebling from his position as Chief Engineer, due to his inability to personally oversee the construction. The motion came to down to narrow vote, 10-7, keeping Roebling as Chief Engineer.  The construction continued, under supervision of Roebling and his wife.

Unknown. Brooklyn Bridge under Construction. 1875. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.8424.

C.W. Pach. 1878. Showing Foot Bridge [of East River Bridge] and Anchor Bars (in part). Museum of the City of the New York. 57.15.16.

Unknown. Brooklyn Bridge under construction. ca. 1880. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.8384

S. A. (Silas A.) Holmes (1819 or 20-1886). New York and Brooklyn Bridge. ca. 1883. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.14280.

J. A. LeRoy. Construction of the Brooklyn Bridge. ca. 1880. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.8439.

Unknown. 1881. Men walking on cables during the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.8463.

Unknown. Construction of the Brooklyn Bridge. ca. 1880. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.8412

16 years after the first plans were drawn, 15 million dollars ($340,000,000 in today’s money) spent, and 27 lives lost, the Brooklyn Bridge finally and officially opened on May 24th, 1883. On the first day alone, over 50,000 people crossed the bridge on foot. Emily Roebling was the first person to cross the bridge in a carriage, carrying a rooster, symbolizing victory,  in her lap. Washington Roebling reportedly never set foot on the bridge he created.

View more images of the Brooklyn Bridge from the Museum’s collections by clicking here. These images are all available in various sizes as museum quality archival prints. If you see something you want to hang on your wall, email us at reproductions@mcny.org.

Bird’s-Eye View of the Great New York and Brooklyn Bridge and Grand Display of Fireworks on the Opening Night. 1883. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.1752.

Walt Whitman’s New York

Walt Whitman, one of America’s most celebrated writers, was born into a working-class Long Island family on May 31, 1819. Four years later, the family moved to Brooklyn. Whitman cherished his memory of Revolutionary War hero General Lafayette visiting New York in August 1824. According to Whitman, Lafayette picked him out of the crowd, lifted him up, and carried him.

Anthony Imbert del. Samuel Maverick sc. Landing of Gen. Lafayette, at Castle Garden, New York, 16th August 1824. 1824. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.1744

After Whitman’s formal education ended when he was 11, he worked at a Brooklyn law firm and later at various newspapers. These positions afforded Whitman the opportunity for self-education and encouraged his interest in politics. Whitman openly supported the Free-Soil Party, formed in 1848 to oppose the extension of slavery into the Western territories. This would eventually cost him his job at the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, as his convictions clashed with those of Issac Van Anden, the newspaper’s publisher.

N. Currier. Grand Democratic Free Soil Banner. 1848. Museum of the City of New York. 56.300.1060

In 1855, Whitman published the first edition of Leaves of Grass, paying for the publication out of his own pocket, designing the cover, and even setting some of the type himself in his friend’s print shop on Cranberry and Fulton Streets in Brooklyn. Many biographers and critics cite July 4, 1855 as the publication date, but The Walt Whitman Archive notes that advertisements for Leaves of Grass began appearing in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle in late June.

Josephine Barry. Birthplace of “Leaves of Grass” Cranberry & Fulton Sts, Bklyn. 1949. Museum of the City of New York. 75.43.94

Whitman’s 1856 poem “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” drew heavily upon his childhood experience crossing the East River. Originally published as “Sun-Down Poem” in the second edition of Leaves of Grass, the poem explored the daily commute of a New York ferry passenger. Whitman would later remark in his autobiographical 1882 publication Specimen Days that “I have always had a passion for ferries; to me they afford inimitable, streaming, never-failing, living poems.”

Brooklyn Daily Eagle. Ferry House Foot of Fulton Street, Brooklyn, in 1850. ca. 1906. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.34.1935

Arthur Hosking. Fulton Ferry. Pier No. 17. Fulton Ferry where Walt Whitman used to come and go on the East River. Banker’s Trust tower in the distance. 1920. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.18.194

Complementing his passion for ferries, Whitman had an affection for transportation workers. He visited those who were injured on the job at New York Hospital on Broadway between Worth and Duane Streets. After the outbreak of the Civil War, Whitman also visited wounded soldiers at the hospital and wrote about them in a series of articles called “City Photographs”, published in the New York Leader in 1862.

John Robert Murray del. William Satchwell Leney sct. View of the New York Hospital. ca. 1820. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.1902

Whitman, already in his forties at the outset of the Civil War, watched as New Yorkers marched off to the battlefields. “First O Songs for a Prelude” recounts his observation of the city during war:

(O superb! O Manhattan, my own, my peerless!                                                                   O strongest you in the hour of danger, in crisis! O truer than steel!!)                    How you sprang – how you threw off the costumes of peace with             indifferent hand,                                                                                                                            How your soft opera-music changed, and the drum and fife were                        heard in their stead,                                                                                                                     How you led to the war, (that shall serve for our prelude, songs                                  of soldiers,)                                                                                                                                      How Manhattan drum-taps led.

The Seventh Regiment assembled below Cooper Union, on their departure to the Civil War. 1861. Museum of the City of New York Photo Archive. X2010.11.13988

Whitman held an ardent admiration for Abraham Lincoln. He even said that “After my dear, dear mother, I guess Lincoln gets almost nearer me than anybody else.” When news of Lincoln’s assassination reached Whitman, he began working on an elegy, “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d”, published in Sequel to Drum-Taps in the fall of 1865.

Currier & Ives. Abraham Lincoln. ca. 1865. Museum of the City of New York. 56.300.979

Beginning in 1879 and continuing until 1890, Whitman offered lectures commemorating Lincoln’s assassination. In spite of his failing health he traveled from his home in New Jersey to Massachusetts, New York, Maryland, and Pennsylvania to deliver the “Death of Lincoln” lecture. On April 14, 1887, Whitman spoke at Madison Square Theatre. Among those in attendance, noted by the New York Times  in an article published the following day, were Andrew Carnegie, Augustus St. Gaudens,  Frances Hodgson Burnett, James Russell Lowell, and John Burroughs. Afterward, Whitman held a reception for his friends at the Westminster Hotel. The evening netted $600 for Whitman, roughly the equivalent of $14,000 today.

Westminster Hotel, New York. ca. 1895. Museum of the City of New York Photo Archive. X2010.11.2240

It was also his last visit to the city. Walt Whitman died on March 26, 1892 at the age of 72 in his house on 328 Mickle Street in Camden, New Jersey.

George C. Cox. Walt Whitman. ca. 1890. Museum of the City of New York. 57.182.10