This photo, taken Tuesday, shows the damage Green-Wood Cemetery sustained after this weekend’s storm, said to have been “one of the worst in recent years,” according to Phil Abrahamson, spokesperson for the Parks Department. {read more} Brooklyn Daily Eagle

emergency brake from Casey Neistat on Vimeo.

Most subway riders haven’t a clue when it comes to a train’s emergency break. The confusion begins with the first line of instructions alongside the brake itself: “Emergency Instructions… Do Not Pull The Emergency Break….” Does that mean that the brake should never be pulled, in or out of an emergency? Or does it mean that only authorized personnel could pull the break in times of emergency and/or at other select times? People have a tendency to read and run, especially when they commute, and seldom read beyond the headlines of news and notices; the fine print containing the reservations and qualifications for life’s routine and non-routine demands is often ignored.

A 28-year-old filmmaker by the name of Casey Neistat considered the emergency-braking confusion and deemed it propitious material for a film. “There are few times in my life where I have lightning bolts of inspiration like that,” he declared. The short film, appropriately titled “emergency break,” is a five minute long “love story about New York City…A message to the M.T.A.”

Finally, considering the fact that pulling the emergency brake will bring 400 tons of train and human existence to a sudden and spine-tingling halt, it should be used with discretion. Transit officials explain (“simply” they claim) that the brake should only be pulled when there’s immediate danger to life or limb due to the train’s motion: someone caught between the doors, for instance, and being dragged to a fatal conclusion.

Hence, the immediacy of certain death determines when the brake should be engaged…otherwise it would be in constant use by all of us: riders on the city’s subterranean and elevated rails who laugh death to scorn amid our blissful confusion.

NY Times

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We’ve experienced (and still are experiencing) a turbulent weekend here in NYC. A nor’easter, of exceptional sound and fury signifying everything, ravished the NYC area with winds gusting at over 60 mph, toppling trees and power lines. Power was knocked out for 126,000 residents in the five boroughs while commuters were left stranded due to discontinued transit services.

Yesterday, during the worst of the storm, the Coast Guard suspended the Staten Island Ferry. Several train lines were also discontinued because of downed power lines, fallen trees or flooded subway tracks. Flights in and out of JFK and Newark airports were delayed for three or more hours

Neil Armstrong couldn’t attend a scheduled appearance, along with other veterans of space flight, at the Intrepid Sea-Air-Space Museum because his flight was canceled out of Boston. “It’s unbelievable to see all these kids here waiting to see the first guy to walk on the moon,” said Museum President Bill White. [The aviators and astronauts] are miserable,” he said.

And when you have a man like Armstrong, who was able to land on the moon but not in the Big Apple, you know it’s serious and there’s good reason for despair. We’re indeed soaked to the whiskers and soggy to the rafters.

NY Daily News

Manhattan’s carriage horse industry is being faced with two alternatives: substantial modifications or costly restrictions for an industry on the verge of complete obsolescence. The other day, members of Teamsters Union Local 553 and animal rights activists exchanged heated words and related contentiousness at a hearing before the City Council’s Consumer Affairs Committee. While one side argued for job protection the other argued for animal protection…neither side came away very happy.

Under discussion is whether or not carriage horses receive an annual five-week vacation while their drivers receive their first pay increase in 20 years. However, more rigorous activists are demanding that horse carriages be limited to Central Park; hence, not exposing horses to the dangers of vehicular traffic. The industry argues that this may be good for horses but bad for business by limiting the scenic qualities of the carriage ride.

Most of the council members at the hearing indicated that they supported an industry-backed bill that would require better working and living conditions for the horses and would increase the rate a horse carriage driver could charge to $50 for a half-hour ride, from $34.

The industry-backed bill, sponsored by Councilman James F. Gennaro of Queens and others, has the support of the Bloomberg administration, and a deputy health commissioner spoke in its favor on Friday.

Opposed to all of this is Councilwoman Melissa Mark-Viverito who is pushing a bill to phase out horse carriages entirely and replace them with antique automobiles by 2012. She insists that this move would make NYC a leader in “eco-tourism” and the motorized vehicles (or horseless carriages) could be operated by current carriage drivers…their hands on the wheel rather than the reins, in this day and age of horsepower.

NY Times

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Wearing futuristicly stylized attire, Fergie and her Black Eyed Peas took over Times Square in New York City last night (March 10, 2010) performing a surprise concert.  The music event was scheduled to promote the launch of Samsung’s new 3D TV’s which are available this week.  Starpulse.com reported that though the concert was lip synced and not publicized it still drew in throngs of people…… {read more} Examiner

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You could have knocked me over with a whisper when I learned that Midtown, Manhattan (of all places) was the quietest part of town…well, select parts of it at least. Whether this is based in fact or delirium, phenomenon or pure irony, is unknown to current science and logic. The bizarre fact is that complaints, if not noise, have decreased in Midtown as well as in Tribeca, the Financial District, Battery Park City and the Seaport sections.

The Brick Underground says that “these relatively quiet zones logged around 93 percent fewer residential noise complaints than the loudest area—Washington Heights/ Inwood—where 6,439 such grievances were filed last year.”

Harlem and the East Village ranked 2^nd and 3^rd respectively in noisiest areas with intrusive noise being a constant thorn in the side of residents there. For your added study, NYC’s noise codes are found here and the daily grind of noise emanating from non-residential sections here.

Nonetheless, I don’t believe that any area of this city is quieter; if anything, noise is as predominant as ever and maybe more so. What I do believe, however, is that New Yorkers have simply resigned themselves to the inevitable and stopped listening.

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The Brooklyn Public Library is going the way of high-tech fund-raising, similar to that used to fund Haitian earthquake victims. “Support Our Shelves” will accept tax-deductible donations of $10 via text messages at “books” 50555; the donation charged to the donor’s cellphone bill.

“It should make a difference on two fronts,” said Jason Carey, a library spokesman. “It’s a new way to get people involved who might not have gotten involved before. Plus, it allows us to keep communicating with people if they opt in.”

Whereas the Brooklyn Public Library is the nation’s fifth busiest, it’s also one of its most cash-strapped. “Support Our Shelves” raised $315,000 last year, used to purchase 27,617 books, DVDs and CDs; this year, with implementation of the text-messaging feature, the BPL is aiming for $500,000.

The Brooklyn Paper

NYC’s oldest living resident has witnessed much history that has come and gone and faded off into infinity…she is 111 years old. Her name is Jane Gilsenan and she was born on Amsterdam Avenue and 98^th Street in Manhattan on May 8, 1898; the very year that the City of New York emerged with the consolidation of its five boroughs.

The solemn, ill-fated William McKinley was then President of the United States, while no one had expected that the supercharged Theodore Roosevelt was destined to succeed him. A New Age in America was, in fact, quickly approaching and Gilsenan would see the 20^th century’s (and beyond) entire spectrum of hope and despair, dreams and nightmares, progress and destruction, unfold.

She was the second eldest of six siblings of an Irish-immigrant family; they lived in the two-bedroom Upper West Side apartment rented for $16 a month. While Jane’s father worked for Macy’s, her mother worked as a cook for the New York Herald Tribune (she once cooked a meal for Mark Twain).

Her memories date back to when she was 10.

“I remember learning to skate by holding the railing at St. Michael’s Church [in Manhattan] and skipping rope,” she said.

She’s similarly sharp with details on the following 10 decades. She can recall the belt-tightening during the Great Depression and her brothers serving in World War II.

Gilsenan never married (she claims that she “didn’t meet the right guy”) and remained a lifelong “working woman” well into her 80s as a legal secretary.  Her oldest sister lived to be 102, another died at 98, and her mother lived until she was 99.

Her age-defying genes may have been aided by a few habits. She has a soft spot for cream sherry and has swallowed a pharmacy’s worth of vitamins A and D over the course of her life. She also kept her mind sharp reading murder mysteries by authors Agatha Christie and Mary Higgins Clark.

Now living in a convent on Staten Island, Gilsenan was recently asked about her longevity. She replied, “I can’t say I regret it, but I wouldn’t want to do this again.”

NY Post

“Sailor Pondering”

Source: epc, Flickr

Nothing Like the Real Thing

This bike-guarding “pooch” didn’t pass a reality check outside the Clark Pet Shop, 57 Clark St., Brooklyn Heights, this past weekend. Brooklyn Daily Eagle

Most New Yorkers do not like to share anything: be it money, time, information…or, especially, their taxi ride. The Share-a-Cab program (still in its beta phase) was yet another good idea, in a long list of good ideas, which might have looked good on paper but couldn’t fly in the real world.

In this day and outrage of snarled traffic and twisted nerves, NYC’s Share-A-Cab allows up to four passengers, charged $4 each, to share a taxi ride (car pool) from designated stands along three set routes. Thus far, the fledgling project hasn’t fared very well:

“The stands, marked by small yellow signs, were without cabbies and passengers alike. According to the authorities, only six shared trips took place.”

The inevitable communication breakdown occurred: Some people didn’t know where the designated stands were and/or (I would presume) what particular routes the cabs were set to take.

Dalbir Singh did not know where to go on Wednesday when he arrived at the corner of East 72nd Street and Third Avenue, seeking one of the Taxi and Limousine Commission’s new share-a-cab stands.

A sign at 72nd Street and Third Avenue explains the share-a-cab idea.

“I asked the T.L.C. officer, ‘Where is the taxi stand here?’ ” Mr. Singh said later, crossing Central Park in a yellow cab. “He said, ‘I don’t know, I’m looking for it too.’ ”

While group taxi rides are popular in cities such as Washington, D.C., they’re a curiosity bordering on mystification in free-for-all New York. Many years ago, while making an urgent delivery for my insurance firm, I was desperately searching for a cab along a crowded and stormy Broadway. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper and I hailed a nearby cab, thinking it was available through the blur of rain. It wasn’t; but the very attractive passenger signaled me to join her, marking the first and only time I shared a cab ride. The passenger turned out to be Shari Belafonte, who was extremely pleasant to chat with as we rode along; but life is usually surprising and generally mystifying in this city.

NY Times

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Hey Jude Times Square Subway Station from 39forks on Vimeo.

Video: “Hey Jude” Subway Sing-a-long

Reader Scott caught this moment on tape at around 10:30 last night in the Times Square subway station—it’s sort of similar to the “Hey Jude” sing-a-long that went down during the Newark kissing bandit/security breach episode. Maybe the Beatles song is the official theme of delays?  Gothamist

Personally, I believe that it’s every person’s God-given right (indeed, their duty!) to go as absolutely nuts as they possible can. In fact, this may very well be what keeps everyone relatively sane.

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William Jay Gaynor served as Mayor of New York City from 1910 to 1913. He is among this city’s plethora of former mayors who are now mostly forgotten, even though a bust of the mayor sits in Cadman Plaza. In his day, his brief yet impressive term was notable for unprecedented reform; an initial set of measures to undermine Tammany Hall’s grip on city politics. Nevertheless, Gaynor’s mayoralty would have been entirely forgotten if not for one incident: an assassination attempt that he would die from three years later.

Despite being tied to Tammany Hall, Gaynor broke with the political machine upon his election as mayor in 1910. He shocked his Democratic colleagues by hiring qualified over Tammany-generated employees. While gaining many admirers among average New Yorkers, he naturally gained many enemies…not only among Tammany Hall bigwigs but also among workers who benefited from their patronage system. One of these workers was a man by the name of James J. Gallagher.

Shortly after his election, while Gaynor was vacationing on-board the SS Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse, Gallagher shot the mayor. The bullet ripped through the back of his neck; a photographer for the New York World caught the incident on film (above photo). “He took away my bread and meat. I had to do it. Really, James?”  shouted Gallagher as police led him away. Gaynor recovered from his injuries but the bullet remained lodged in his throat.

Gaynor’s near-death experience, together with his reformist actions and affable personality, allowed his popularity to skyrocket. Many of his supporters wanted to run him for president, nominating him as an Independent since (of course) his tenure with Tammany was finished. Unfortunately, on September 14, 1913, Gaynor boarded yet another ocean liner, the SS Baltic, for yet another vacation at sea. He was found dead in a deck chair six days later, having finally succumbed to his injuries. Gallagher, the mayor’s would-be assassin, died a few months earlier in an insane asylum.

Galapagos Arts Space Presents “‘Swingin’ At Jack’s’”

BROOKLYN — The year is 1947 and Jack’s gin joint is the hottest place in town. The saucy French maitre-d orders you to take your seat as the flirty cigarette girls try to sell you a jujubee along with your cigarette. {read more} Brooklyn Daily Eagle

The Federal Aviation Administration is investigating employees at the John F. Kennedy International Airport air-traffic control tower for apparently allowing at least two school-age children to transmit directions to pilots.

Some happy-go-lucky people consider this to be a rather “cute” or “harmless” bit of fun. It was, in fact, neither cute nor harmless and could have resulted in a horrific disaster. Whoever was responsible for this gross breach of airline safety should be immediately fired if not also charged with criminal actions. If anything, the guilty party and kid should be confined to spending a lengthy future playing Microsoft Flight Simulator together. There is no excuse for this and we should be grateful to survive the whims of these and other idiots.

Update: CHILD’S PLAY–TWICE–AT JFK! [in one week!]

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It’s always been suspected that many New Yorkers were somewhat odd. Now there may be justification for these suspicions: not only that many New Yorkers are somewhat odd…some may be from another planet. We may have reached our close encounters of the third kind in the form of our next door neighbor or merely in that of a passing glimmer in the sky.

UFO fever has taken hold of  the imagination beneath the skies of Brooklyn; residents here are on the lookout for extraterrestrials. Over the past few weeks, reports of strange activity in the night sky, and captured footage of mysterious lights and objects, are all over cyberspace.

The mysterious nocturnal light shows even caught the attention of Borough President Marty Markowitz, who in good humor, offered the red-carpet treatment to otherworldly visitors to our borough, and a Community Board 1 member, as reported in a weekly Brooklyn newspaper last week.

{read more} Brooklyn Daily Eagle

Even though the NYC Metro area has had its share of bizarre, nocturnal sightings over the past 50 years, there’s been a marked increase of such reports lately. While most of these could have been dismissed as hoaxes, or as aircraft or natural phenomena mistaken for UFOs, much of it was undoubtedly preternatural and inexplicable.

On the other hand, extraterrestrial visitations seem to go hand in hand with depressed or anxious times; the romantic notion that extraterrestrials are attempting to intervene for our salvation(?) may be just another form of desperate escapism. Nevertheless, I loved the film CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND; it had fascinating visuals and a superb score…I often escaped into it myself.

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[Letter]:

My father and I have been doing research over the past few months on an old  Brooklyn fire badge that was recovered by a relic hunter near Port Hudson,  Louisiana, and this research has led me to you. I acquired this badge and was able  to identify the owner via a badge register that can be found in the  Brooklyn Historical Society. His name was Duncan Richmond. Duncan was a  fireman in Brooklyn when he enlisted in the 11th New York (Ellsworth’s Zouaves); was captured during the battle of Bull Run and sent to prison at  Charleston, South Carolina, and was released in 1862. Less than a month later he  re-enlisted and organized a company of Brooklyn firemen (Franklin Engine 3)  to serve with the 159th NY Infantry; he eventually rose to the rank of  Captain. Duncan was killed in action during the battle of Cedar Creek in 1864….

{read more} Green-Wood Discovery

Of the estimated 300 Federal houses in NYC, the Merchant House is the most genuine and best-preserved. Built by Robert Brewster in 1832, the red-brick and white-marble row house is situated at 29 East Fourth Street in Manhattan; the Tredwell family lived there for nearly 100 years. In 1936, after extensive repair and renovation, the building was turned into a museum. Time has stood still on the Merchant House; it looks virtually the same as it did in 1832.

“The distinction of the Merchant’s House and it is a powerful one is that it is the real thing. One simply walks through the beautiful doorway into another time and place in New York.” [NY Times]

Nevertheless, what’s a historical site without a ghost or two roaming about to give it some spirit? Indeed, in addition to being most genuine and best preserved, the Merchant House is also reputed to be one of NYC’s most haunted of houses. At least nine former residents are said to have died there; and, whether or not they died unfortunate deaths (obligatory for a ghostly afterlife), the deceased made it their business to make their eternal presence known. In addition to this, many long ago people who had died elsewhere, but had strong ties to New York’s social scene, made special (or, at least, cameo) appearances at the Merchant House to delight visitors who are currently still alive.

Staff members often feel an energy going up the staircase from the second to third floor. Staying late after work in 2006, Merchant’s House education coordinator Eva Ulz said she heard “footsteps in the third-floor hallway.” Assuming someone had returned, she recounted, “I listened a little closer and realized they were footsteps very light and fast, as if being made by a child in bare feet. When I went into the hallway, they stopped.”

The Merchant House’s most lively specter is Gertrude Tredwell, Seabury’s spinster daughter, who, in 1933, died at the age of 93 in the front bedroom. She’s often been seen wandering through various parts of the house, particularly in the kitchen; according to some witnesses, an elegant, petite figure that exudes a sort of “protective presence.” During a 2005 concert in honor of President Lincoln, Gertrude “appeared to certain members of the audience.” Perhaps an appropriate time for Tredwell to materialize: The concert was dedicated to songs made popular in the aftermath of Lincoln’s assassination.

For decades, the Merchant House’s most noteworthy specter was that of Aaron Burr. Particularly famous for proving that duels aren’t cool when he ended the life of Alexander Hamilton in 1804, Burr spent the remaining 32 years of his life in scandalous infamy. Sadly for Aaron Burr fans, experts have recently discovered that Burr had never haunted the place at all. But the good news for them is that his beloved daughter Theodosia (lost at sea in 1812) has probably taken time out from her busy schedule to haunt there by “playing with the earrings of patrons.”

Indeed, if you enjoy American history (as I do) or the paranormal, the Merchant House is the place for you. Few NYC landmarks offer as impressive a taste of the pre-Civil War period as this house; even fewer have the alleged potential for really allowing the past to come alive again.

(Note: Eva Ulz contacted me to say that the Tredwell name is spelled without an a; and that Joseph Brewster, not Samuel Seabury, built the Merchant House in 1832…Seabury Tredwell purchased the building in 1835. I’ve made these corrections.

Eva also states:  “No ghosts other than members of the Tredwell family have ever been associated with the Merchant’s House, nor is there any reason to think that any member of the Tredwell family died in a violent way.”)

The Villager

Merchant House Museum website

see also: Hauntings At the Conference House

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The snow has come and gone…we’re now looking forward to Spring.

Photo: ColorMeKatie

Thank you, Anthony Wiener. It’s about time that a MAN rose up and slammed it to these stonewalling thugs…corporate lackeys that they are.

Over the past couple days, an amazing tale unfolded on the tweet-waves of Twitter and on the cyber-waves of cyberspace. From deep within the currently under-demolition ruins of hot dog pioneer Charles Feltman’s famed restaurant, one of his hot dogs had allegedly been discovered. The ancient dog was determined to have been approximately 140-years-old (WAY over the expiration date of any hot dog known to man, woman, or beast) and in a tantalizing state of nostalgic if not culinary preservation. Alas, it was a hoax…I, along with many other idiots, admit to being fooled by this one.

“The recent discovery by an amateur archaeologist… was a publicity stunt in the grand tradition of Coney Island ballyhoo,” said Tricia Vita, spokeswoman for the history project. “I was surprised in the beginning at how many people believed it was true.

But after reading all the buzz about it on Twitter and the Internet, I’m not really that surprised because people want to believe these types of things are true.”  The Gothamist

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Snow comes down over the Brooklyn Bridge, as blizzard hits New York City.

Predictions for today’s storm were so dire that officials canceled school and grounded flights hours before the first flakes even fell, sending the city into emergency mode as the behemoth blizzard inched closer to Gotham.

“This will probably shut down East Coast cities for the next couple of days,” meteorologist Jim Rouiller said Tuesday. “This is definitely going to be one for the record books.” {Read more} NY Daily News

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Ten Gracie Square is one of Manhattan’s Good Buildings: a benchmark of the ultra grandest in grand elegance for those maintaining crème de la crème existences. There are only 42 such residences in the borough (most of them being on Fifth and Park Avenues), where the very richest, if not always the very famous, play house.

However, now that the city’ waterfront property and various nostalgia is a la mode, Ten Gracie Square is a cut above its rivals for three reasons: it overlooks the East River, Madame Chiang Kai-shek had lived there (er…okay) and, perhaps most importantly,it was also the home of Lois Lane.

Long before actresses such as Margot Kidder and Terri Hatcher played the love interest to that “Man of Steel” from the Planet Krypton, an actress by the name of Joan Alexander originated the role of Lois Lane on radio. She played Lois in over 1,600 The Adventures of Superman episodes during the 1940s and early 1950s. Even though some argue that she wasn’t the first actress cast, she began early in the series (1940) and Lois Lane became Alexander’s signature role.

Whereas her on the airwaves life with Superman may have been dynamic, Alexander’s off the airwaves life was equally dynamic when she married her second husband Arthur Stanton in 1954. Stanton was chairman of World-Wide Volkswagen, based in Orangeburg, New York, which helped introduce the Volkswagen Beetle to the USA. The couple lived a “Gatsby-esque existence” at their home in East Hampton, NY and their apartment in Manhattan: Ten Gracie Square.

The five-bedroom apartment, which was listed by Corcoran’s Patricia Cliff, who declined to comment via her assistant, is “a grand 11-room, semi-duplex home, which abounds in architectural detail.” The upper level of the apartment features two master bedrooms both with “bathrooms en suite” and one with a wood-burning fireplace. “Most rooms have sweeping views of the East River and/or Carl Schurz Park,” according to the listing, as well as an “abundance of prewar detail” amid the interior, including a 12-foot entrance gallery.

Alexander passed away on May 21, 2009 at the age of 92 (Stanton died in 1987). Her apartment at Ten Gracie Square was put on sale with a $7.995 million asking price; it closed short of the asking and is now owned by Clark Murphy of Russell Reynolds Associates.

Finally, I haven’t the slightest idea why I found this important enough to write about…in spite of my desperation for a topic. Nevertheless, I suppose attention must be paid at the merest mention of superhero-related affairs in all its various terrestrial and extraterrestrial  spheres.

New York Observer

One Front Street is offering homemade fruit-infused vodka shots, burger sliders, and other specials for $1 every Wednesday through Sunday in the month of March, according to a story by The Brooklyn Paper.

Dumbo, NYC

A retrospective on the New York City of the 1970s/ 1980s, when the town cast a “gloriously gritty” ambiance, is always good for a bittersweet sort of nostalgia. But we were younger then and hungover from the Sixties; it all seemed like an all-encompassing Theatre of the Absurd.

Take a look at the Gothamist’s photo gallery which offers a selection of these deeply drab if thought-provoking images of yesteryear. Just give your copy of the Rolling Stones “Shattered” a spin and groove to the sights:

Love and hope and sex and dreams
Are still surviving on the street
Look at me, I’m in tatters.

You’d probably be somewhat surprised (or, perhaps, somewhat delighted) to learn that in 1824 half of Manhattan Island was on the verge of falling into the sea. This rather disappointing and dismal news was heralded by a man called Lozier, something of a savant factotum, first circulated among the city’s merchants and eventually the general public.

Due to the disproportionate weight of buildings at the Battery (Lower Manhattan, its southern end), that portion of the island was in danger of breaking off and falling into New York Harbor. Needless to say, people were quite distressed and looked to Lozier for salvation.

Lozier devised a plan of sawing the island off at the area around City Hall, the northernmost edge of Lower Manhattan, and sailing it out to sea. Once out at sea, this portion would be rotated 180 degrees and refitted to Manhattan; the weight thus redistributed would stabilize the island and allow everyone to live happily ever after. Months were spent on gathering the necessary workforce and logistical support for this massive and unprecedented task and on the big day when all was finally assembled and finally ready…Lozier had virtually disappeared.

Yes, this was indeed a hoax; one of the biggest in American history. But what set this hoax apart from others is that it had the added charm of being a hoax within a hoax. Lozier never existed and this incident never occurred outside of the realm of the imagination and urban legend. The hoax, or combination story/ hoax, may have first appeared in Thomas F. De Voe’s “The Market Book” published in 1862. It was then retold in Herbert Asbury’s “All Around the Town” (1934) and in the Reader’s Digest book “Scoundrels and Scalawags” (1968).

As R.J. Brown (Editor-in-Chief of History Buff.Com) states: “Despite the truth coming out, many journalism history books continued to retell the story as being true well into the 1950’s. Despite being lower educated, people living in New York in the early 1800’s WERE NOT that gullible!”  “The Day They Almost Sawed Off America” (An excellent read!)

This audio is a rare recording of Giacomo Puccini’s voice; it’s perhaps the only one ever to have existed. Recorded on February 21, 1907, while Puccini was visiting New York City to supervise production of three of his operas at the MET, it’s titled La voce di Puccini (“Voice of Puccini”) and was recorded by the Columbia Phonograph Company on a single side 78rpm (matrix number 1420-1).  Friends and colleagues requested him to make the recording so that the voice behind the immortal music should be heard by generations to come.

Translation of Puccini’s statement:

“My heartfelt thanks, dear Mr. Viafora , for all your kind words. I am really deeply grateful to the great public of New York for the very enthusiastic welcome they have given my operas. I accept your wishes for a safe journey, and conclude by cheering: America Forever!”

Notes:

Gianni Viafora was an Italian painter who immigrated to New York City. His wife, Gina Ciaparelli, was a soprano who appeared with the Metropolitan Opera between 1907 and 1910 in seven performances as Mimi“ in Puccini’s La Boheme.

Puccini took “America Forever” from the Act I duet between the characters Pinkerton and Sharpless in his MADAME BUTTERFLY (1904); unable to speak English, those were among the few English words the great maestro knew.

On the afternoon of August 10, 1884, a relatively minor earthquake hit New York City. Estimated to have been 4.9 to 5.5 in magnitude, with its epicenter off the coast of Coney Island or Far Rockaway, the quake lasted for about 10 seconds but caused little damage. Nonetheless, it was felt as far south as Baltimore and north as Maine; an area of over 70,000 square miles.

Newspapers of the day report:

“The telegraph manager at Coney Island promptly asked for particulars of the ‘explosion,’ supposing that some oil refinery, powder mill or dynamite factory had blown up. A few minutes later, however, the fact became known there that the whole island had been thoroughly shaken by the vibrations. As a rule people remained in front of their houses for many minutes, apparently trying to get at some solution of the fears and watching the faces and manner of others.  Women and children as they regained some degree of confidence returned to their houses.  Men assembled in groups in the streets discussing the occurrence which had so startled them.  The faces of men and women, however, wore a troubled expression and bespoke a dread that perhaps the danger was not yet over.  The effect of the jar was much more perceptible in houses of light structure, in many instances it being reported that a clearly defined movement was felt, and the dishes in pantries were shaken from the shelves.  In Central Park the shock was more severe, it is said, than in the surrounding region.  There were large crowds in the mall, who were at once thrown into a state of violent excitement by the shaking and strong rumbling in the ground, which was distinctly heard.  The animals in the menagerie were evidently frightened by the shock, and many of them were seen to tremble as if in fear, while they remained perfectly still for some time after it occurred.”  General Disasters (transcription)

(more articles here)

This wasn’t the first earthquake to hit this region where seismic disturbances result in a modicum of damage, a moment of alarm, and a quick dismissal. On December 18, 1737 an earthquake of similar magnitude hit the city, toppling chimneys and cracking windows; and throughout the next two centuries, down to the present day, various other small magnitude earthquakes have struck in and around the metropolitan area.  However, the 1884 quake is, to date, considered to be the largest and best documented in New York City’s recorded history. As never before, scientists began exploring the geology of this region: its insidious fault lines and deceptive seismography. NYC Seismicity

While the like of California is certainly no stranger to earthquakes and the culminating “Big One” has loomed large in their future for decades, our own corner of the world isn’t immune from a similar fate.

Much of Manhattan sits on a deep layer of soft, post-Ice Age sediment over extremely hard rock, a juxtaposition of geological extremes that bodes ominously. A 6.0 quake could shake the city’s buildings with nearly the intensity of the 6.8 quake in Kobe. Inexplicably, the city dragged its feet about adding earthquake-mitigating requirements to its building codes until the mid-1990s. The generally well-designed towers in the Manhattan’s skyline most likely would survive a 6.0, but the unreinforced masonry townhouses where most residents live might not fare so well. A 1989 study estimated that a quake would cause more than 130 simultaneous blazes, which could put the fire department under severe strain  TLC

In short, a major earthquake would be quite a shitty experience for NYC. Nevertheless, as with all impending natural disasters, the Big One could strike now or 10,000 years from now.  Personally, I won’t be packing my bags for a hasty departure anytime soon. When I think of the various disasters that I’ve lived through here, what’s so terrible about a devastating earthquake or two.

(For some highly technical stuff on NYC earthquake forecasts, go here)

An enterprising soul by the name of John (Cha Cha) Ciarcia is, dare I say it, “making you an offer you can’t refuse”: A bus tour of this city’s most famous and beloved gangland sites. Starting next month, The New York City Mob Tour will guide you through the best in former Mafioso stomping grounds, watering holes and killing fields. Replete with newsreels and film clips describing the various points of interest, you and your own gang could marvel at what was really hot in New York in those fun-filled, captivating days of old.

Even though there are several Mafia walking-tour guides, Ciarcia offers the first mobile tour on this subject. “Everybody loves the mob,” he said, a restaurateur, radio host and actor (he had a bit part in “The Sopranos“). “We’d like to give them a taste of history in the mob.”

For instance:

That Starbucks over there? Used to be the scene of one of the city’s most notorious mob hits.

This trendy Nolita shoe shop? It was once John Gotti’s hangout, the Ravenite Social Club, where many a bloody murder was planned.

The Starbucks at W. 55th St. and Seventh Ave., for example, was once the famous hotel barbershop where mob boss Albert (The Executioner) Anastasia was getting a trim in 1957 when two assassins riddled him with bullets.

Ciarcia plans to charge $50 per person for the two-hour magical mystery tour which leaves from his Mulberry Street café,  Bocca al Lupo (my translation: break a leg) driving through Little Italy to Midtown and back. I too plan to be on-board and will be wearing shades.

NY Daily News

Who could have guessed that Darth Vader, the famed Conqueror of the Universe, simply minding his own business, would ever come to this: down-and-out in impoverishment’s all-devouring black hole. Cash-strapped to build a “Deth [sic] Star” that he could call “home,” a veteran of many glorious slaughters,  now homeless, now jobless… and, horror of horror, now empire-less. That such a gentleman isn’t even employable on Wall Street is a shock that the Universe will never absorb. Cancel your long-term plans and subscriptions…the End Is Near!

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An Irish pub in Brooklyn is blending the spiritual with the convivial and drafts of beer with drifts of religion. Since the New Testament reveals that Jesus imbibed the grape and that Paul also tooted the vine, it should be your religious prerogative to become high-spirited as well…according to “Theology on Tap.”

Beginning this month, Father Anthony Andreassi of the Brooklyn Oratory will preside over an assemblage at Ceol on Smith Street.  Even though the pub is better known for “cacophony than Catholicism,” Father Andreassi expects that most of those assembled will remain vertically inspired rather than horizontally ossified after the brews and words are passed around.

Indeed, Father Andreassi went so far as to take a precaution, either to guarantee a wider or more conscious audience: “Four years ago, Andreassi had a session in Park Slope that drew about four dozen people. This year, he said, he made sure to schedule the event after football season, and within Lent.”

“Holy Mutha Church! What Everyone Needs to Know” will kick off the first of three sessions of Theology on Tap” on February 22. This will be followed by “Shaken not Stirred: Religion and Politics” on March 8 and “Catholics and Healhcare, WTF?!—What’s the Focus?” on March 22.

Why didn’t such diversons exist long ago when I was a  practicing Catholic?

Those interested in becoming deliriously enlightened should contact Theology on Tap at (347) 643-9911. (Remember: Don’t Drink and Drive!!!–No matter how blessed you feel.)

The Brooklyn Paper

The famous and oftentimes ridiculed lingua franca of this city, the NooYawk accent, is rapidly becoming a thing of the past. In common usage throughout the last century, from the sidewalks of the Bowery to the screenplays of Hollywood films set here, this was New York City’s distinctive sound: an R-less manner of speech, similar to that of  South Londoners, forming what language experts describe as the “R-less Corridor.”

Last week, the NY Post ran an interesting article on the evolution of the New York accent. Why words like doctor and sofa in the King’s English so faithlessly and freely become “doctah” and “sofer” in the Big Apple is a long story. Believe it or not, many years of unconscious time and careless effort went into this New World cockneyism.

But, most language experts agree that the designation is quickly becoming irrelevant. “New Yorkers are more and more ‘R’-ful, and the amount of R-dropping is decreasing,” says Michael Newman, associate professor of linguistics at Queens College. Gothamist

An influx of people from other states and other lands may be the reason for the death of NYC’s regional accent; this is also occurring in other metropolitan areas across America. Linguists believe that because many of these recent arrivals possess new or non-distinct accents the older, native accent is overwhelmed, gradually declines, and ultimately merges with the more novel forms of accentuation. Mass media, especially television, has also contributed in diluting or reconstituting accentual patterns.  Another factor may be that parents are simply encouraging kids to drop their customary speech and adopt more universal forms of expression to be able to succeed among an increasingly diverse mainstream culture.

In any event, that familiar and timeworn Noo Yawk kinda of lingo is indeed fading from the streets and alleyways of the city (the last time I heard it was while watching a Bowery Boys film). The Archie Bunker Sound has come and gone, replaced by a more worldly articulations; the “Meatheads” and other types of cultivated personas now reign supreme in the city’s evolution.

As for myself, I’m something of a snob…proudly and unabashedly anti-social. Far from sharing in this locale’s dialect, for decades I was absorbed in doing a rather feeble but spirited Orson Welles impersonation. Since I never listen to what I’m saying (nor ever read what I write…but you’ve guessed that), I’ve convinced myself that I sound like that captivating and multi-talented host of the Mercury Theatre and beyond. If I hadn’t deluded myself into believing that, I’d might discover that I sound like Joe Pesci.

An ice sculpture of a heart was brought to life in Times Square on Friday, just in time for Valentine’s Day weekend.

Designed by architect brothers Robert and Granger Moorhead, the blocks of ice are calibrated to absorb and magnify the lights of the illuminated chaos of Times Square.

The architects say on their Web site that the work is expected to slowly melt away in a celebration of the “temporary nature” of the installation.

Ice sculptors Takeo and Shintaro Okamoto helped construct the heart from masonry-scaled blocks of ice.  1010Wins

A photo gallery of the work here.

When he died in 1943, Eugene de Salignac was entirely forgotten. He was born in Boston in 1861, a descendant of French nobility, and, after a failed marriage, started working for the City of New York as the official photographer for the Department of Bridges; a position he would hold from 1906 to 1934. In that time, he witnessed the rise of modern New York City and recorded it on film for the ages. At the time of his death, de Salignac left behind more than 100 volumes of prints, corresponding logbooks and plate-glass negatives; the bulk of which were either stored in municipal storerooms or used arbitrarily for various documentaries. However, de Salignac himself remained largely forgotten and remained largely uncredited for his work…for his recently acclaimed art.

De Salignac’s pictures have been reproduced in books, newspapers, posters and films, including Ken Burns‘ Brooklyn Bridge; though largely uncredited, his work helped shape New York’s image. “He was a great chronicler of the city, in the tradition of Jacob Riis, Lewis Hine, Stieglitz and Berenice Abbott,” says Mellins. “The fact that he was a city employee may have made it less likely that people would think of his work in an artistic context, but these images indicate that he really takes his place in the pantheon of great photographers of New York.”

Then in 1999, Michael Lorenzini, the senior photographer for the New York City Municipal Archives, was browsing through spools of microfilm when he noticed a shared, “distinct and sophisticated aesthetic” in many of the archival images which were also numbered.  ”It just kind of hit me: this is one guy; this is a great photographer,” Lorenzini says.  He searched through storeroom after storeroom, record after record, for anything that would identify the photographer behind the pictures. After mounting days and months comprised of grueling hours, Lorenzini finally discovered the municipal worker/photographer/artist he was looking for: De Salignac…for a century, one of the most forgotten of chroniclers.

De Salignac’s time as a city worker coincided with New York’s transformation from a horse-and-buggy town into a modern-day metropolis, and his photographs of towering bridges, soaring buildings, trains, buses and boats chart the progress. “In this remarkable repository of his work, we really see the city becoming itself,” says Thomas Mellins, curator of special exhibitions at the Museum of the City of New York. “During this period, New York became a paradigm for 20th-century urbanism, and that has to do with monumentality, transportation systems, working out glitches, skyscrapers, with technology—all of the things that emerge in these photos.”

De Salignac finally gained the attention and respect he deserved. In 2007, he was honored at the Museum of the City of New York with a special exhibition dedicated to his life and work. New York Rises: Photographs by Eugene de Salignac, is a companion book to the exhibition published by Aperture with essays be Lorenzini and photography scholar Kevin Moore.

Smithsonian Magazine

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Sarah Palin–savior to some, imbecile to most, phenomenal curiosity to everyone—may have reason to reconsider her plans for a grandiose future. Current polls reveal that her ratings are declining at a greater rate than ever before; a one- night stand appeal that’s losing its lustre.

A considerable 55% of Americans view her in a generally unfavorable light while a whopping 71% think that she’s unqualified to be president.

This groundswell of negative ratings expresses new highs of disapproval towards the much ballyhooed and outrageous “Sarah Barracuda.” Her meretricious return to the spotlight has apparently diminished rather than heightened Palin’s peculiar fame and glory.

Unsurprisingly, Palin’s more popular in her own fragmented party than anywhere else. But even though 69% of Republicans have a favorable opinion of their star attraction, only 37% view her as strongly favorable…52% think she’s unqualified to be president.

Indeed, only 18% of Americans have a strongly favorable opinion of Palin while 38% regard her as strongly unfavorable. Among the swing-voting independents: 36% regard her favorably, 53% unfavorably, and only 29% believe she’s qualified for the presidency.

Now these are the kind of notes I’d like to see this utter nincompoop jot down on her palm to better read her future; that’s the sort of hand jive that all sane Americans hope for and will greatly appreciate.

The Washington Post

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Schoolchildren who had the day off along with Brooklynites of every age took to Prospect Park to enjoy the snowy weather on Wednesday.

Very picturesque…until the inevitable slush and ice and resulting misfortune set in. NYC received about 12-inches of snow and, even as I write, the storm is tapering off and moving on.

In our warm and secluded brownstone across from Prospect Park, my wife and I brewed many arousing flagons of steaming coffee, cleverly laced with brandy, and watched while taking shelter from the storm; a blend of Bach and Oscar Peterson playing through the still atmosphere.  Indeed, it’s always nice to enjoy the awesome whims of Nature from a safe distance, theorizing and rhapsodizing on its caprices, and not exposed to its less charming realities. Then again, I’ll have to go out eventually and slip and slide away with the best of them.

Brooklyn Daily Eagle

In an effort to reimburse victims of the Prince of Thieves, the government has finally sold one of Bernie Madoff’s erstwhile properties here in New York City. His Manhattan penthouse (photo gallery), originally listed at a spine-tingling $9.9 million clams, then reduced to an equally hair-raising $8.9 million bucks, has ultimately sold for an undisclosed sum to an anonymous buyer.

The lucky owner will get 4,000 square feet of high-altitude living space in this duplex apartment on the 11^th and 12^th floors of 133 East 64^th Street.  Three bedrooms comprise the lower floor while a living room, kitchen and wraparound terrace proudly lolly-gag above.

The apartment is one of three Madoff properties the government seized and is selling to help reimburse victims of Mr. Madoff’s $65 billion Ponzi scheme. Anne Corey and Serena Boardman of Sotheby’s International Realty have the listing. The Madoff beach home in Montauk, N.Y., sold in the fall for $9.41 million, nearly 6% above its asking price. The buyer was real-estate mogul Steven Roth of Vornado Realty Trust.

The Wall Street Journal

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Featuring the incomparable Harold Lloyd…teaming up with Babe Ruth.

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An unfamiliar coyote has been spotted in Manhattan by an unidentified man walking his more urbanized dog. At around 6:45pm last night, he saw the prairie wolf (quite a long way from the nearest prairie) at the entrance to Central Park on 7^th Avenue and Central Park South. According to the man, the coyote approached from the east, positioning himself on an overhanging boulder, and took a canine-to-canine interest in the man’s dog; hence, a stare-down began twixt dog and coyote that lasted for five-minutes.

Someone called 311, the city’s hotline, but one and all could have died of old age while awaiting a response. In any event, the coyote cut-out of the staring and cut-off into the wilderness of the park. The Central Park Conservancy and Parks Department were also contacted by several parties and updates are forthcoming…eventually.

NYC’s first visiting coyote, Hal (pictured above), arrived in 2006. He began his tour in Central Park and eventually wound up in Harlem before being captured. Unfortunately, Hal soon died from an unhealthy mix of stressful captivity and of the rat poisoned he had ingested while roaming the town; he’s gone to his eternal rest in that Big Prairie in the Sky. Hopefully, our newly-arrived and currently touring coyote’s visit will end on a happier note.

Luckily for myself, I just live in this city and never visit…I only blog about it.

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The hot dog, crude delicacy of unknown origin that is, is one of New York City’s most essential novelties; in fact, it reflects this city’s essential ambiguity more than any other food item. Served in a bun, typically crowned with mustard and sauerkraut, the dog is a connoisseur’s delight for the common man and woman; a hearty supplement to their pedestrian itineraries or defined budgets.

While its origins are unknown, where the hot dog achieved eternal fame and glory is more than well-known: Coney Island. A German immigrant by the name of Charles Feltman ran a meat-pie wagon along the boardwalk in the 1860s. His cart was equipped with a heating unit (an innovation at the time) which allowed him to sell hot sausages wrapped in a roll to beachgoers and to boardwalk strollers.

Feltman’s sausage wagon business prospered and he eventually opened a restaurant on West 10^th Street that extended from the beach to Surf Avenue. A confluence of seven grills cooked thousands of newly dubbed hot dogs selling at 10 cents apiece. One of Feltman’s cooks, Nathan Handwerker, stared ambitiously long and calculatingly hard at the sizzling dogs and saw his future in an instant. In 1916, Handwerker opened his own restaurant strategically outside the newly constructed Stillwell Avenue subway line and sold hot dogs at 5 cents apiece. He attracted loads of customers from the ever-growing crowds to Coney Island and a new legend was born: Nathan’s Famous Frankfurters.

In time, Coney Island became a synonym for hot dog. It has been estimated that more than 100 million hot dogs were sold each summer at Coney Island during the amusement park’s heyday. Even now, the Nathan’s concession on Coney Island sells a little more than a million hot dogs a year.

Despite inroads made by the falafel sandwich, the shish kebab and the gyro, hot dogs still rule at a hefty percentage of the 4,000 carts licensed by the Department of Health.

In 1939, Coney Island honored its most famous symbol by organizing National Hot Dog Day. “It is difficult to measure the contribution the hot dog has made to the fame and popularity of this great resort,” one official said. “Why, Coney Island is even shaped like a frankfurter!” Catching the spirit of the occasion, Milton Berle stepped onto the podium and announced, “Let our slogan be ‘E Pluribus Hot Dog.’ ”

Here’s the sort of talk that puts this Brooklyn kid in the mood for a delectable, origin unknown be damned, hot dog!!! It’s one of those humble tidbits of life which makes life worth living…cholesterol count be damned as well.

William Grimes “A Man, a Plan, a Hot Dog: Birth of a Nathan’s”

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Brooklyn while not always unwavering in its sanctity is impressively rich in its churches. In addition to being called the “City of Trees” and “City of Homes,” it’s also been called the “City of Churches;” lately, it’s more inclusively referred to as the Borough of Homes and Churches.” Most of these churches are Roman Catholic, built in the spiritual image of mostly first- and second-generation Italian-Americans, and have always maintained a prominent position among the faithful; indeed, parishioners would often identify themselves more with their respective parishes than with their respective neighborhoods.

A very comprehensive and very majestic example of a Brooklyn church is Regina Pacis (“Queen of Peace”) located at the corner of 12^th Avenue and 65^th Street in Borough Park. The church is an architectural masterpiece reflective of Italian Renaissance design…a European shrine rather than a neighborhood church.

While World War II was raging overseas, parishioners of the small and rather creaky St. Rosalia’s Church pledged that if the war came to an end they would erect “a lasting memorial to the ideal of peace.” Work began on one of Brooklyn’s greatest churches in 1948 with a price tag of $1,000,000 (by the time of completion, it rose to $2,000,000) and Regina Pacis Votive Shrine was dedicated in 1951.

It was a two-story building with 1,500 seats on the main floor and 1,200 more in the basement chapel.  It was the second Catholic church in the country to have air conditioning (at a cost of $70,000).  The 150-foot steeple was topped with four spotlights that illuminated an engraved bronze cross announcing “Pax”, or peace.  Two thousand tons of Italian marble were used in the building; sixteen stained glass windows told the story of the Virgin Mother, and fifteen Italian mosaics represented the Stations of the Cross.

To preserve the artwork, reducing soot and dirt, the church was among the first to use electric candles; the originals are still in place today.

As a testament to the communal involvement of parishioners, Regina Pacis’ construction was financed, to a large degree, by contributions. Even though they were poor Italian immigrants, parish members donated whatever they had to build the church: wedding and engagement rings, other kinds of jewelry, small and large sums of money…whatever they had to give, they gave.

Some of the jewels collected were converted into the crowns that topped the heads of the Virgin Mother and Child. In 1952, less than a year after Regina Pacis’ dedication, the crowns (with an estimated worth of $100,000) were stolen. The crime not only shocked the parish but became a national story. While some people started collections, others wrote editorials in newspapers condemning the criminal(s); the children of St. Rosalia, the parish school, prayed each morning for their return. Eight days later the church pastor, Father Cioffi, received a mysterious package…inside were the crowns almost perfectly intact. The pastor burst upon the next morning’s mass and announced the good news to a jubilant congregation. “Parishioners were overwhelmed:  some applauded, some prayed, some cried, and three fainted.”

Nonetheless, police were still searching for the thieves without any success. The theft rather than the return of the crowns was hot on many people’s minds and their anger was still unabated. Indeed, the Brooklyn Eagle downplayed the recovery of the crowns; its headline read: “Shrine Gem Thieves Hunted.” The police had only one suspect by the name of Ralph Emminio, a 38-year-old jewel thief. Strangely coinciding with the return of the crowns was the discovery of Emmino’s body on a street in Bath Beach (Brooklyn); he had been shot to death.

Many suspected that Emmino had either taken more than his fair share in a group crown heist or had been punished for stealing from a church — an off-limits zone for mob business.  Other leads developed from there: one man reported seeing Emmino’s car in the parking lot the night of the crime, and another claimed that two mysterious men asked him to deliver “a package” to Regina Pacis the day before the crowns appeared in the mail.  The Eagle reported that Catholic churches in Brooklyn refused to give Emmino, a suspect in the public’s eyes, a Catholic burial.  But no actual evidence was ever found beyond the package itself.  The case remains unsolved.

I grew up in Bensonhurst, which borders Regina Pacis’ parish in Borough Park; my parish being the less awe-inspiring Our Lady of Guadalupe, which borders it spiritually. Among the residents of that modestly intriguing neighborhood, traditional knowledge usually took hold where fact would end; that the Mafia had strong ties to Regina Pacis (as it did to Saint Rosalia, the church’s launch pad) was an accepted issue borne of traditional knowledge.

The Mafia never leaves one of its hits lying on a public street to be easily found; instead, it drives them to a New Jersey swamp to be found months or years later…except when it wants to make a statement.  Emmino’s body had been found on a Brooklyn street (photo/blog) on Bay 41^st Street between Bath and Benson Avenues in Bath Beach), shot twice through the chest and once through the head (“execution style”); he was clearly left on display. That the police had already suspected him for stealing the crowns, that his murder coincided with their return, tainted the magnificent holiness of Regina Pacis with an aura of criminality. The “Queen of Peace” may have had her crowns safely returned but they were forever tarnished by rumor and conjecture.

Brooklynology

A splendid Regina Pacis photo gallery can be found here at Bald Punk

SUMMARY Section of Coney Island amusement area with Scoota Boats entrance (sign above: “Motor boats”) and several pedestrians in foreground and Virginia Reel and Wonder Wheel in background.

Flickr: Brooklyn Public Library Collection

It’s often very easy to ignore many displays of racial and religious intolerance, casually writing these off as the works of a few misguided minds giving form and expression to their exuberant perversity. As long as no physical harm is inflicted, no considerable damage to property done, most acts of bigotry are quickly dismissed and soon forgotten.

Nonetheless, insidious evil is currently on the rise throughout the USA and oftentimes emerging in the most unlikeliest of places. This kind of evil, if dismissed, will simply have more time to grow; if forgotten, will soon remind everyone of its presence with overwhelmingly fatal consequences.

In my very own comfortably wondrous community of Park Slope, Brooklyn, antisemitism has once again reared its misbegotten head. The Brooklyn Paper is reporting that slips of paper reading “Kill Jews” were strewn along a major avenue here, Sixth Avenue from Fourth to Ninth Streets; the same demonic “paper chase” occurred last Halloween in this neighborhood.

Residents picked dozens of these ominous slips off the street and turned them over to the police. Karen Guilbert went one step further and played “amateur detective” in piecing the slips together in an effort to determine the source of this hatred; she performed the same task last Halloween. “All that emerged was that the slips had been cut from a document from a taxi driving school. Yet there were no addresses or phone numbers on the strips that offered any further clues.”

Most unsettling, this is not the first time the craven Anti-Semitic litterer has struck.

In addition to Guilbert’s Halloween discovery, last September, the same notes turned up in Bay Ridge, Boerum Hill and Clinton Hill.

To top it off, vandals struck two synagogues in Brooklyn Heights in 2007 and left the same message on car windshields.

In closing, a cautionary message  for Jews and, like myself, non-Jews alike:

“History has shown that wherever anti-Semitism has gone unchecked, the persecution of others has been present or not far behind. Defeating anti-Semitism must be a cause of great importance not only for Jews, but for all people who value humanity and justice….” U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum

—U.S. Department of State, Contemporary Global Anti-Semitism Report, March 13, 2008

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Staten Island Chuck, that prognosticating ground hog of dubious fame and earthbound fortune, will be at it again. This Groundhog Day (Feb. 2), Chuck, like all true-blue if less notable (insofar as smug New Yorkers are concerned) groundhogs in America and Canada, will reemerge from his earthy hole for his annual moment of fame.

All eyes will be on the clever marmot this Tuesday, anxiously awaiting to observe whether or not Chuck sees his shadow in the sunlight (signifying six more weeks of winter) or not (signifying an earlier spring). Of course, Chuck’s calculations could be thrown out of whack due to stormy or overcast conditions; alas, by the pricking of my desktop weather station, cloudy wickedness will be coming in to darken that ceremonious day.

Regardless of rain or shine, snow or sleet, our indomitable Mayor Bloomberg will be in attendance. He’ll again play straight man to Chuck’s erratic and whimsical talents…hopefully not have his furry partner take a bite out of him, as he did last year (video).

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Hipsters, that urbane set of groovy renegades, may be facing a sudden and untimely extinction. The New York Press questions if the cool and aloof look of hipsters may be out and a new look may be in…that of “helpsters.”

The peculiar neologism, helpsters, defines an up-and-coming, trendsetting breed combining the cool of hipsters with a social consciousness . Whereas hipsters are “disaffected aesthetes with nihilistic tendencies” these helpsters are “motivated and committed Samaritans.” NYP

Similar to their hipster counterparts, they’re by-products of gentrification; but, rather than luxuriate in gentrification’s epicurean delights they seek to undo its rampant disparities. Helpsters are critical of the social displacement and communal inequality caused by gentrification. They want to end the callous redevelopment of neighborhoods, systematically redesigned locales marketed for the prosperous, and make them more socially equitable.

So they’ve taken to organizing concerts by bands like They Might Be Giants to raise money for a community center in Williamsburg, launched “guerilla gardening” campaigns to create new greenspaces, held bicycle demonstrations and protests, and pushed to establish Brooklyn’s own currency. Helpsters even helped New York Cares have a 30 percent increase in volunteers last year, 60 percent of whom were between the ages of 18 and 34.  Gothamist

The helpster organization surveyed their fledgling group and found that one in five were motivated when President Obama was inaugurated and that economic insecurity and rising unemployment was the leading factor in motivating them to  focus on more selfless, community-oriented goals. Nevertheless, if the recession is waning and Obamamania is declining, we may be soon questioning whether or not helpsters may be facing a sudden and untimely extinction as well.

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Subway riders on NYC’s IRT No. 6 train were entertained with quite a unique and original spectacle the other day. In a venue where originality in strange and unusual presentations is difficult to arrange (the competition is so intense), some feverishly ambitious individuals still strive for the best. Take this chicken-loving gentleman and his feathery friend, for instance. {read more} The Canadian Press

When the American photographer Berenice Abbott returned to New York in 1929 after nearly a decade in France, she found a city transformed by modern life. After the Works Progress Administration was established a few years later, she was hired to document the city, producing a large number of often dramatically composed images reflecting its changing features. In this image, Abbott photographed the Trinity and U.S. Realty Buildings (1904?07) on Broadway and Thames Street in the southern part of Manhattan. Older buildings and warehouses sit in the shadow of twentieth-century office towers. Abbott’s steep perspective emphasizes the contrasts in scale and the break between old and new.

Collection: Brooklyn Museum

An article in the Brooklyn Eagle of January 26, 1901 reported that police officials believed that “professional mendicancy” was responsible for an upsurge of beggars in New York City. In sync with the xenophobic mood of the time, city officials blamed the “wholesale immigration of professional mendicants [italics mine] from Europe” for a new, assertively exhibitionistic form of beggary.

“They are moved to this belief both by the nationality of the beggars and by the changed character of the begging habits.” Whereas native beggars were usually “content” to look shabby and miserable when soliciting handouts, the professional beggar would attempt to elicit pity by “prominently displaying their afflictions.”

While the article goes on to state that some people doubted police reports of this so-called professional mendicancy, it also claims that an “investigation proves it to be true and unexaggerated.” The investigation supposedly revealed that many prospective immigrants learned from their relatives already situated in America that all they’d have to do was to poignantly dramatize an actual or simulated affliction (blindness, paralysis, etc.) to play on the heartstrings of “those stupid Americans” and profit by it.

Professional mendicancy has actually become such a profitable occupation in Brooklyn and New York that these swindlers and loafers make more money than honest hardworking men. There is hardly a professional beggar in Brooklyn or Manhattan who is not considerably better off than 75 percent of the people who give alms. Nearly all of them have comfortable sums put away in banks…

While many of these “success” stories are probably true, I would suspect that even more of them are mostly exaggerated or entirely bogus; again, assumptions largely influenced by the prejudices of the early 20^th century. Untold numbers of immigrants, possessing the most noble dreams and upright motives in coming to the USA, were, despite their more laborious efforts, reduced to begging…for survival, certainly not for profit.

Brooklyn Daily Eagle (excerpt)

read full article here

We’re always hearing about manhole explosions, but have you ever seen one? One captivated duo caught an exploding one on 29th Street, noting: “Firefighters closed down the street and moved a car parked within 20 feet of manhole cover.” Gothamist

Just another day in the city…with a modest bang: business as usual and hardly anyone pausing to take a look.

Alongside its varying and tortuous infrastructure, New York City is laden with diverse reminders of its past. Historical relics and curiosities are constantly being unearthed from aging streets or within crumbling walls by construction workers renovating a city so indurate to unceasing renovation. Over the rapidly evolving passage of time, the new was often replaced by the still newer before the formerly new had a respectful chance to grow old. However, while most history is delightful and handled with kid gloves, some history is treated like a dreadfully burdensome skeleton in the closet…the trolley car, for instance.

The trolley car, NYC’s once clangorously bustling mode of transportation, was a victim of this city’s rapid pace of evolution. Trolley car service in this town ran from the late 19^th century to the middle of the 20^th century and almost from the start was faced with extinction. Rival corporate and government interests in elevated trains, then bus transport and, with increased private car ownership, in highway projects managed to have the city’s trolley rails either dismantled or literally buried in the course of their incursive progress. Indeed, even though some trolley service continued into the 1950s, their enforced obsolescence was so intense that during that same decade The Trolley Museum of New York was founded to preserve their memory.

Today, while cities like Boston and Philadelphia still have trolleys, NYC not only rid itself of them but in certain areas of the city it’s also apparently loathe to be reminded that they ever existed here. Last year at Fulton Ferry Landing (one of the city’s most famous and historic transportation hubs) while workers were doing reconstructive work on a sewer/ water main conduit, they uncovered trolley track rails dating to the 1920s beneath the asphalt on Old Fulton Street. This area lies at the entrance to the newly-developed Brooklyn Bridge Park and adjacent to that most elitist of NYC neighborhoods, DUMBO. After consulting with archeologists and city landmark officials, the workers removed and trashed the tracks.

Their reasoning:

[Elisabeth] De Bourbon [a Landmarks spokesperson] added that while DUMBO is noted for its tracks, Fulton Ferry Landing’s distinguishing characteristic was the ferry landing, not the old-school mode of transportation that rumbled away from it through DUMBO and points beyond.

Then again, there are those who not only oppose De Bourbon and her ilk’s smug assertion of the tracks’ historic insignificance but also maintain a belief in their current viability as well:

“When these people say the tracks are all finished and garbage, they don’t know what they are talking about,” said Bob Diamond, a Brooklyn legend ever since he discovered a long-abandoned trolley tunnel under Atlantic Avenue almost 30 years ago.

“The tracks must still have at least 25 years of use in them,” he said. The asphalt is a pretty good preservative. The ones on Old Fulton Street being removed could be used to restore trolley service in Downtown Brooklyn.

Indeed, a restoration of trolley car service in the DUMBO/ Fulton Street area is what many preservationists desire. Not only would it be a “classic symbol” of the borough itself but a “convenient and stylish attraction that would deliver visitors from downtown to the hard-to get-to Park” as well.

Nevertheless, what may be attractive and practical to the many is rarely as attractive because less lucrative to the few. I’d venture a guess that these landmarks officials realize which side their bread is buttered on when they evaluate history and determine the infrastructural look and feel of our city.

Brooklyn Paper

More on Bob Diamond, along with marvelous trolley-related images, can be found here.

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