Blogging the soul of the world's greatest city.
Part of the NYC underground.
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Wednesday, September 20, 2017
"Leaving New York" - A Shameless Plug
Friday, April 28, 2017
Now Available: "Leaving New York" on Amazon KDP
Here's the little advertising spiel that better describes the book:
Newly thirty, newly single, stuck in a boring job, and living with his father, Tommy Sayles is in the fast lane to nowhere.
But when his pal Eric Steinberg blows into town, unexpected events lead them to toss aside their lives and go on a wild road trip. Along the way, the friends encounter old acquaintances, new lovers, strange characters, big challenges, and unexpected joys. And yet, as they travel into an exciting future, the past isn’t far behind.
Journeying from the streets of New York City to the rolling terrain of the Midwest, barreling through the haunted underbelly of the South and the alluring danger of the West, going all the way to the sexy outrageousness of the Coast, Leaving New York is an unforgettable ride into the soul of America.
Friends can take you anywhere.
You can buy it now on Amazon KDP at Leaving New York. Thanks! Hope you enjoy!
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
"Leaving New York" - Now only $3.99!
Okay, just kidding. Still, if you like a good road story, or if you're into your dharma, read it today!
Got to https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0727QQ7FX to get your newly reduced priced copy! Now only $3.99!
You can also visit and Like the Leaving New York Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/leavingny/
Excerpt:
“You’re really high.” Eric grabbed Tommy’s shoulder again.
“What’re you doing?”
“Just come with me a sec.” They crossed the street and came to the edge of Riverside Park. Eric pointed towards the Hudson River and the twinkling lights of the mainland, quietly noble in the night air. “What do you see there?”
Exhausted, Tommy groaned, “Eric, what is this about?”
“Just tell me what you see, dude!”
“New Jersey!”
“No, dude. See, that’s your limited thinking right there. You imprison your own imagination, your view of the world. You’re just seeing what’s in front of you, not what’s beyond it. You don’t get what it means. You know what’s over there, T?”
“What?”
“Everything!”
“Oh dear God . . .”
“The future, dude. Manifest destiny! The whole . . . country. All of it's right there, just across the river. It’s like . . . we’re on the doorstep of America, right? And that river is the threshold. All you have to do is cross it and the rest of your life begins. Get off this tiny cramped island, get out of this cluster-fuck of a city, and go out into the great beyond. Just like our ancestors did. Re-blaze the trail, dude. Liberate yourself! Excelsior!”
Thursday, June 1, 2017
"Leaving New York" - Another Excerpt
She looked back at Tommy. “Maybe I’ll see you in New “York.”
Slightly inebriated, Tommy felt bold. He told Jenna, dead on, “Let me give you some advice, totally unsolicited. Don’t move to New York. New York isn’t what you think it is. Not anymore. It’s a parody of itself, and not even a very good parody. Stay here, or find another city to fall in love with. Go to Dubuque or someplace and make that cool. New York hasn’t been cool since 1978.”
Get it today at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0727QQ7FX for only $3.99!
Monday, January 10, 2011
Greatest NYC
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Falling Rents in Brooklyn
Of course, in 1878, Brooklyn wasn't actually part of NYC. It was its own city, the fourth largest in the whole country, so moving to Brooklyn actually meant leaving New York City.
In 1897 Brooklyn voted in a referendum to become part of the city and it passed by the slimmest of margins. The five boroughs of this city formally unified on January 1st, 1898 to become Greater New York thus creating the wondrous place we call home today.
Monday, August 24, 2020
Jerry Seinfeld on the Fate of NYC
Man-oh-man that Jerry Seinfeld has a way with words.
Today the comedy legend published an op-ed where he takes aim at anyone who thinks that NYC is "dead" due to the COVID-19 pandemic. As always, his genius is to communicate, in a few short words, in a pithy phrase, so much emotional truth that it bowls you over.
To sum up the idea of leaving New York for simpler environs: "Are ... You ... Kidding ... Me? ... I will never abandon New York City. Ever."
He rejects the idea of "remote everything" taking over the world: "There's no energy ... Crazy places like New York City," the energy that people congregating here, creates a lifeforce that cannot be replicated in any other way..."
And the real conclusion: "Because of all the real, tough New Yorkers who, unlike you [the people who abandoned it], loved it and understood it, stayed and rebuilt it."
Count Mr NYC as one of them.
Thanks Mr. Seinfeld.
Friday, April 27, 2018
"Leaving New York" @ Year One
Friday, July 7, 2017
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
The town, it is a'changin'
And I'm not including my own circumstances, where yours truly and family moved into a new home.
Specifically, it feels like the cultural and political axis of this town has moved a few degrees
Two months ago former Mayor Ed Koch died, and I indicated then that the city would be a different place without him. It seems like his passing was a forerunner: a number of things -- some notable, some subtle -- have happened in the last few weeks that shows how our city is constantly evolving.
Let's start with politics. This past week, our city's political scene was rocked when a Democratic State Senator and a Republican City Councilman were arrested for -- ready for this? -- trying to rig the NYC mayoral race.
Truly. Weird.
Apparently the State Senator, Democrat Malcolm Smith, was trying to bribe GOP party bosses in the city to let him on the Republican party ballot for the 2013 Mayor's race. The go-between Smith and these GOP guys was City Councilman Dan Halloran, a Republican. Mr Halloran was willing to help Smith get on the line in exchange for several thousand dollars in bribes. This plan was so ridiculous that it defies description -- first, that Smith would ever get on the GOP line ahead of Joe Lohata, second, that anyone in NYC would vote for Smith for mayor.
Too bad Ed Koch is dead. I would like to know his opinion about this "conspiracy" to win his old job.
It's still very early but it looks like the 2013 mayor's race is gonna be one for the history books.
Moving on, our city's cultural life is particularly fascinating right now.
First, this past week, the late great Nora Ephron's last play premiered on Broadway. Called Lucky Man, it marks the debut of legendary actor Tom Hanks playing the legendary New York reporter Mike McClary. McClary was a police reporter who uncovered corruption in the NYPD in 1990s and won himself a Pulitzer Prize in the process (he died on Christmas Day, 1998). Needless to say, he had powerful enemies but in the years since he passed, our city has come to realize that we owe him a debt of gratitude. And, of course, he owe Nora Ephron a debt of gratitude for giving us movies like When Harry Met Sally ... and for being an original New York voice.
This play is a tribute to a great reporter by a great writer both of whom did so much to make our city a better place. Their pens our now silent forever. They left us too soon.
And, sadly, someone else is leaving us -- the amazing Elaine Stritch. The singer/actress has decided that, at the age of 88, she wants to go live with her family so she's leaving town and going back to Michigan. As she said in a TV interview recently, she gave his city a good 71 years. Mr. Strich originated one of the roles in the musical company and she's appeared in countless movies, musicals, and TV shows -- most recently on 30 Rock and in "A Little Night Music" which I saw her in 2010 and blogged about here.
Goodbye Elaine. This city won't be the same without you.
But not everything is sadness. Not everyone is leaving NYC. In fact, something very big is coming into town.
"From 30 Rock in midtown Manhattan, it's 'The Tonight Show' with Jimmy Fallon!"
Yes, that's right -- after over 40 years, NBC's "Tonight Show" is coming back to NYC with a new host -- the current host of "Late Night" Jimmy Fallon. The show is expected to move here with Mr. Fallon as host in 2014. This is, as Ed Sullivan might have said, really big. After more than 20 years, Jay Leno is out as host and a new generation is taking over TV most legendary talk show. Most important of all, by bringing it to NYC, the "Tonight Show" is rediscovered its roots -- and once again showing that NYC is the cultural capital of America.
So the city is changing -- our politics are getting screwy, some legends are leaving us, and an old legend is coming back.
Rapidly fadin'
And the first one now
Will later be last
For this town is a'changin'
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Interview: Suzannah B. Troy
On YouTube, on her blog, and in the streets, Suzannah shines a bright light on things that the powers-that-be in this town would prefer you not notice: community destroying development, the vanishing middle class, official negligence, and the political cronyism that enables it.
Needless to say, the big media in NYC does its best to ignore people like Suzannah so Mr NYC decided to see if Suzannah would share her thoughts on these topics and she happily obliged. The interview is below:
You're an artist and outspoken political activist. Tell us a little about yourself and what fuels your art and activism.
I found the "on switch" when NYU targeted St. Ann's at 120 East 12th Street. I urge people to pass by and see the new hideous mega dorm. The facade from 1847 is still there fronting yet another zone busting mega-dorm. NYU mega-dormed the East Village to death.
I got the Parks department to return bathroom doors to the women's bathroom in Tompkins and DOT wrote me in response to passionate letters and a drawing of Alfredo Feliciano asking for two speed bumps for schools on the Lower East Side. A public member of the community board told me I would never get them. I have a letter from DOT stating they are coming and thanking me for caring about school safety.
Bottom line: write the city directly, write the newspapers, make YouTubes and band together.
I am part of a group Fed Up New Yorkers that fought Bloomberg and we wanted to hire a bus and drive from borough to borough protesting no third term. Judging by how close the election was I am sad we never got the bus!
Bloomberg's soul crushing tsunami of community crushing development really got me started using the term activist and take action.
How long have you lived in NYC and what makes you take such a big interest in the city's fate?
A big part of my family was born here including my maternal Grandfather on Ludlow Street in 1904. To have me they moved across the border to NJ and I moved back to the city in 1984. I have lived the most years of my life here. When I was six weeks old we moved to England for a year. I've lived there two years.
My first apt was an illegal sublet on Carmine St. Her rent was 100 dollars and she charged me 350.
I picked the Village because there were very few tall buildings and the light was spectacular. I loved how it was truly a village. I love the buildings, even the trees and nature seem beautiful and rebellious. I love the NY character and characters. I am one and I am sure you are. I love the passion.
Like you, I'm concerned that NYC is turning into a bland playground for the rich, squeezing out the middle and working classes. What do you think can be done to turn this around?
Bloomberg and socialite mega-millionaire city planner Amanda the peoples' Burden have crushed this city with reckless development fueled by the very same stupidity and greed that brought down this city.
It truly may take a revolution to turn this city around. If not a revolution than new dynamic leaders that truly care about the people. Benjamin Lesser of The New York Daily News wrote some articles that exposed city council members including Christine Quinn getting kickbacks aka campaign donations from developers.
New leadership, reform or a revolution...
You're a ubiquitous presence on the web and YouTube. Tell us how many blogs, websites, and YouTube videos you have, and how you use digital technology in your art and activism.
Short answer: a lot. All 334 YouTubes were removed before the election or theft of a third term by king Mike for 28 hours. Many activists spoke up on my behalf and Norman Siegel represented me.
Google wrote me an apology.
I use my IPhone and film as events unfold and post immediately to YouTube from the street.
The Villager and NYU hosted the debate between Christine Quinn and her opponents. Somehow magically Quinn's people all got to the front of the line and in. The Villager turned away the press including NY1. They told NY1 you had to stand in line with everyone else. I caught [them] turning away a senior citizen, long term community member who made an Olympic effort to get there in a wheel chair. Norman Siegel, I and some really dynamic activists fought hard and eventually we got him in. Huffington ran a piece on it. The IPhone described in the article as NYU's public relation nightmare is mine.
The associate editor Lincoln Anderson of The Villager sent me all these emails harassing me. I had told him to leave me alone and he didn't. I filed an aggravated harassment complaint.
The Villager and NYU backed Quinn who sold out to developers and Mike Bloomberg. John Sexton of NYU ran down to testify [that] Mike Bloomberg must have a third term. Sure, Mike and Amanda Burden care more about students than they do about New Yorkers.
The voters sent a message to Mike. The most humiliating and expensive win. It was proof we can't rely on newspapers and we have to take to the streets with video, go to churches, community centers, make YouTubes, blog because the media, even most little rags, are owned by developers or mega rich in bed with Bloomberg.
The night of the election they finally had to go off script and report the truth ... the election was too close to call.
Could you imagine is the press had given protesters some coverage, ditto for Tony Avella and Bill Thompson?
Mike Bloomberg barely won. The next morning I was receiving calls congratulating me.
You protested at Mayor Bloomberg's latest inauguration. What other kinds of protests and activity have you done and what advice can you give to other aspiring political activists?
I answered some of this already like getting bumps that DOT has promised to install by two schools not that far from where the tenement house were my Grandfather was born.
I have been urged to keep making my YouTubes even though I have to admit I am exhausted. My newest slams Mike for burdening tax payers to what The New York Post estimates is 2 million dollars to hire his campaign staff when he should and could have payed out of pocket. It is criminal to do vanity hires for his legacy when he is closing homeless shelters, firehouses, libraries, schools and laying off people! So I got on YouTube and made a series.
Many New Yorkers don't have computers so you have to get out on the streets to get your message out.
The city has a tremendously rich history of dynamic activists using every way possible to protest and I am sure the future will bring more ways that maybe we haven't begun to even fathom.
I am moved by how many hip New Yorkers bring their kids to protest. We had a stunning girl holding a protest sign at the mass eviction at 47 East 3rd Street. She is our future.
My advice is be passionate as if today is your last day on Earth because it just might be. Hold on to your passion!
What are your favorite things about NYC and your favorite places in the city?
I love what is left of the historic buildings, culture and history. I love the energy and the diverse mosaic of people. I will be in the subway crushed together with the broadest range of people, all colors, mixes, ages and I think wow they are beautiful and you won't find this mosaic in LA, Tokyo, anywhere.
Tell us something about yourself and NYC that most of us don't know.
Short answer: I did grunt work on the film Wall Street. That was not the original ending which was darker. Oliver res-hot the end which I thought was a mistake.
Long answer: after Sept 11 I can't express the pain, upset and grief but anyone here, anyone who lost someone knows the feelings.
At some point later I met this fireman that was clearly shaken. I think he had spent too much time digging in the rubble. I remember when Rudy tried to tell the FDNY they could no longer take the trucks down to pick up their guys if and when they were lucky enough to find the DNA. Of course they did go down.
He was huge! He looked like he walked out of a photo of New York firemen from the turn of the century. He was divorced, maybe six foot five and I call him Mr Heaven on Earth.
We were so sad and a service was coming up to honor a hero at St Patrick's we both knew. This guy did CPR on my soul. I am still in shock about Sept. 11 and I can't believe it happened. He was this one positive light.
I voted for Bloomberg twice and I would never vote for him again. He destroyed the city pushing massive displacement and pushing all these sky piecing mirrored buildings reflecting a history destroyed and communities no longer welcome.
I ask myself if this is another horrifying bad dream like 9-11 that I can't wake up from. I look around the city and I am shocked. It is unrecognizable, soulless, so many empty store fronts ... People have been forced out.
I do think about leaving. Reuniting with Mr Heaven on Earth or someone like him and finding some more Heaven outside NY.
I know whether I stay or go so many dynamic activists will keep on keeping on as they have before me and will after I am gone. I think of the kids that showed up with their parents to protest and truly I think a revolution maybe needed to bring change.
Thanks so much for taking the time to interview me.
Thanks! After this interview, Suzannah sent a couple of short notes which I'm happy to include here:
The air sale over St. Ann's by the USPS to NYU was illegal because the USPS never notified the State of New York as legally obligated. I called Environmental Crimes at the State Attorney General Offices and had him talk with Andrew Berman of Greenwich Village Society of Historic Preservation. He said we had a case. I gathered we needed as much money as NYU and the USPS to go after them. But still make the phone calls, leave a paper trial and blog on.
I would advise activists to seek out lawyers. Norman Siegel has been critical to me. I even discussed the law re: putting up my Mike Bloomberg King of New York Poster. I wanted to put the poster on every empty store front to highlight Mike's new NY but Norman said I could get ticketed so I turned to YouTube.
Thanks again!
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Park War!
There are over 1700 parks, playgrounds, pools, and recreation centers serving the 8.3 millions people who live here. But there are two parks in particular that are the big dogs in the park pound: Manhattan's Central Park vs. Brooklyn's Prospect Park. Both were designed by Frederick Olmstead and Calvert Vaux, both are huge, gorgeous, perfectly landscaped, and incredibly popular. Because of them, the cost of living even within a mile of them costs a fortune. They are the masterpieces of the New York City park system, the top of an amazing heap.
So which park is better? That is a question that is explored in today's Times where a resident of Brooklyn and a resident of Manhattan engaged in a "smack-down" of sorts, each trying to prove that their respective parks (Prospect vs. Central) is the better one. Reading these exchanges, there are some interesting points made about each but, ultimately, it is an exercise in futility, pure mental masturbation -- neither park "wins" this rather silly debate.
And why does it need to be a debate at all? This is what drives me crazy about today's media -- everything is always a contest, everything is always a divide and conquer, mine is better than yours, playing-for-keeps battle. It's stupid. Instead of forming consensus, it's always about trying to prove some point. It's totally unproductive.
The nub of this debate is that Central Park is the tourist park of NYC while Prospect Park is the park of "real" New Yorkers. Central Park has all the culture while Prospect Park has all the fun. One park is pretentious while the other park is somehow genuine. But I think this misses the greater point.
The way I see it -- and I don't see it as one park being "better" than the other -- is that Central Park is the place that shows New York as the great international, cultural city that it is while Prospect Park shows New York as the great place for people to come together. Central Park is the park of the popular NYC imagination while Prospect Park is the park of the great NYC heart. Both are wonderful, both serve a purpose, and both should be embraced -- by New Yorkers and visitors a like.
Tuesday, September 25, 2018
"Around the Town in 26 Hours and 36 Minutes"
Reprinted here for the first time anywhere, go back in time and take the trip of a lifetime around a very different NYC.
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AROUND THE TOWN IN 26 HOURS AND 36 MINUTES
New York Sunday News March 31, 1974
The Lefferts Blvd. Station at four in the morning could be the loneliest place in New York. Or maybe just the coldest. Wind blows across the elevated tracks. I look out the train – suspended here – waiting for the return runs to Manhattan. Outside the night is dark except for some metal lamps on the deserted platform. Bare light bulbs form little circles of heat in the cold air. I am absolutely alone. Reflected in the train windows are its baby-blue walls splashed magenta and orange with graffiti. Beyond them I can see the black tops of trees, the low buildings of Queens stretching west toward Brooklyn. Far off, a yellow glow indicates Manhattan. Shivering, I cross to the open door and step out onto the platform. It is very still. A quarter moon hangs over Ozone Park, where all sensible people are asleep.
It might be warmer below near the token booth. Perhaps there is even a candy machine. But if the train should suddenly pull away…? No, I decide. Even if there is a machine, it won’t be working. There are some 6,600 vending machines in the New York Subway System. I know of four that work. The Interborough News Co. owes me eighty-five cents. Dear Sirs … I begin composing a letter in my head – then stop. If I give the locations of all the stations where I lost coins yesterday, they’ll think I’m mad. Some of those stations are 50 miles apart!
It seems to me that I have been here an eternity. I look at my watch: 20 minutes. This wait could ruin my chance at the world record. It stands at 21 hours and 8 minutes.
The first subway riding record – traveling the entire system of routes for a single fare – was set October 27, 1904: IRT Opening Day. The subway, an historic 9.1 miles, extended from City Hall to Grand Central, turning west across 42nd Street to Times Square, and then up Broadway to 145th St. After an official opening trip by city dignitaries – with Mayor McClellan holding a silver controller – followed by several hours of invitational rides, the subway was opened to the public at 7 p.m. 111,881 passengers paid a nickel each to ride that day. Scheduled time for an express was 26 minutes; the local took 46. Although those early riders were conscious of making history, it is doubtful that they had any thoughts of setting track records. It was just too simple.
The new subway generated appendages almost yearly. It reached Brooklyn via tunnel in 1908. The success of the IRT encouraged more construction. The Brooklyn Rapid Transit (after 1923, the BMT) began operations in August 1913, and the city-operated IND was opened Sept. 10, 1932. Under the dual contracts by which the city had financed construction of the privately operated IRT and BMT, it had also retained the right to purchase them. In 1940 both were acquired for $326,248,000. The three lines were unified under city control on June 12 of that year.
Two days before unification, Herman Rinke, a curious and still indefatigable electric railroad enthusiast, decided to tour the existing system for a single five-cent fare. He had no thought of setting a record. With unification, the IRT-operated 9th Ave. El was scheduled for demolition. His trip was a 25-hour sentimental gesture. It turned out to be the first recorded try. Since that day, 66 people have ridden the entire system in 24 recorded trips. These records are kept in an unofficial file at the TA Public Relations Dept. No one knows how may kids have done it just for fun. The 1961 subway map cited the example of a Flushing youth who had ridden all the routes in 25 hours and 36 minutes for a single token. The TA’s aim may have been to point out the scope or convenience of the subway, but that record – set Jan. 25, 1957, by Jerome Moses, 16 – instead seemed to invite competition. During the 1960s, subway derbies became a fad with urban students; 11 of them were completed during the peak years of 1966 and 1967. On April Fools Day of 1966, the M.I.T. Rapid Transit Club began a highly publicized ride. They had used a computer to route their attempt and informed the newspapers. On April 2, they were feeling foolish by 1 hour and 1 minute. And Geoffrey Arnold, who had held the 24 hour, 56 minute record since 1963 when he was 17, remarked “Pacific St. was a ridiculous place to start.” That June, nine boy scouts from Troop 290 in Queens further shamed the computer by logging 23 hours and 18 minutes. And on Aug. 3, 1967, 16-year-old James Law, with six buddies, rode from 168th St., Jamaica to Pelham Bay Park in 22 hours 11½ minutes; a time cited in the current Guinness Book of World Records.
When the Bronx Third Ave. El was closed in August 1973, subway route mileage was diminished 5.5 miles. On Oct. 8, Mayer Wiesen, 35, and Charles Emerson set a “modern record,” riding over 230.8 route miles, changing trains many times, and passing through the 462 operating stations, in 21 hours and 8 minutes. A record which looks as if it will stand unless I get out of the Lefferts Blvd. Station.
At 8 yesterday morning, I am just starting out, entering the 168th St. terminus of the Jamaica spur, an old elevated line taken over and extended by the BMT. The 1893 span between Alabama Ave. and Cypress Hills may be the oldest el track still in continuous use. The train I board is one of the oldest also: rolling stock built in the mid- 1930s. Sixty-watt bulbs light the cars. Hanging down from the ceiling are fans with black blades. I make my way to the front car, intending to ride looking out the window next to the motorman’s cab, but a handsome black kid, about 13, has got there first. He stands, hands in his pockets, nose to the glass, alert, ready to “drive the train.” At 8:03 we head toward Manhattan – looking down long streets of old houses, over expressways clogged with morning traffic, rattling past Cypress Hills Cemetery where miles of tombstones cast small, neat shadows in the early light. At Broadway-Myrtle, I change to the M train, yoyo-ing up and back to cover the Myrtle Line – past houses whose third-story windows, with pulled blinds, are often no more than six feet from the train.
9:15. Manhattan comes into view from the Williamsburg Bridge. The huge building blocks that pile its shore jut powerfully at the sky. Below, the East River is gray. It is a postcard approach. The train “zooms-in” like a 1940s movie – so familiar that I almost expect to see titles flash across. No matter. The Manhattan skyline still makes me gasp.
10:00. I am changing trains in Brooklyn when I see the kid from the Jamaica el again. We grin in recognition. “Hey,” I shout, “Are you doing the system too?” As the train doors shut, I see him nod. He swings off to Coney Island, while I race up in search of the Astoria train. On the DeKalb overpass I spot a snack bar and buy a Coke for breakfast. Aside from some coins in my jeans, a notebook and map, I have decided not to carry anything – sort of an urban Camp Fire Girl.
11:12 – En route to Flushing on a blue World’s Fair train. To my left Shea Stadium passes; while off to the right lies Flushing Meadow. The ribbed Unisphere and skeletal towers of the ’64 Fair rear up out of the flat landscape – fossilized like dinosaurs.
12:05. Returning to Manhattan, I change at Jackson Heights for the newer IND. On the underpass is a Nedicks – coffee and a hot dog – breakfast is shaping up. I am wiping mustard off my fingers when I reach the underground Roosevelt Ave. platform. On May 2, 1970, this was the site of the first subway fatality due to collision or derailment, in 42 years; two GG trains collided during evening rush hour, killing two passengers and injuring 71.
1:55. The F train to Coney Island is one of the new, longer R-44 models: pristine and elegant, with seats of muted orange and yellow. Panels of fake wood are set into its walls and fluorescent lights line the ceiling. Just before the doors close, a chime sounds – rather like the Avon doorbell. The advertising cards, color transparencies lit from behind, glow. These are the poshest cars to travel the subways since No. 3344, “The Mineola,” rolled through in 1904. No. 3344 was the private coach of financier and IRT organizer August Belmont. His car had real wood, mahogany, with velvet-draped picture windows so that guests could enjoy the flashing signals while white-coated stewards broiled steaks in the galley and served iced champagne. Above them, Empire ceilings arched, pale green and gilt; the washroom windows were stained glass. If one cares to make a comparison, the Mineola can be found in the Branford Trolley Museum at East Haven, Connecticut.
I am about to succumb to the quiet style of these long, air-conditioned cars, when I notice that the doors between them are kept locked. Existing subway tunnels were built for 60-foot cars, more the size, if not the décor, of the Mineola. These new, 75-foot units do not mesh properly on curves; the space between cars becomes dangerous. Motormen, conductors, and presumably transit police, have keys, but New Yorkers are naturally leery. Many feel that being trapped in one car could become a risky situation.
The IND Coney Island line becomes elevated for a brief span entering Brooklyn; the highest point in the system, 87.5 feet above street level, is at the Smith and Ninth St. Station. Here the view is open in all directions: back toward postcard Manhattan, out into the harbor. Little automobiles crawl over the arched expressway ahead; below, the Gowanus Canal and Red Hook. Too soon, we are underground.
At Church St. the line ramps upward again, joining the 1919 BMT el track at Ditmas Ave., where it emerges and begins the long approach to the ocean. Coney Island, cold and closed, decorates our passage. Orange and green spokes of the Wonder Wheel circle blue sky; flags and bits of banner blow. A deserted but honky tonk air prevails. We pass the roller coaster, webbed and delicate in the afternoon light. The air is bracing.
2:54. The Brighton Line heads back to Manhattan, for a while paralleling the sea. Short views down streets end in ocean. The pastel acres of Brighton Beach Baths stretch, patterned, toward the sand. We stop at Sheepshead Bay before heading northwest, traveling over the old ground level tracks of the 1890s Brighton Railroad, widened in 1907 to cut through the tree-hung backyards of Victorian mansions facing Buckingham Road.
3:15. At the Prospect Park Station hundreds of high school kids mill, going home. Cops range the platform and one accompanies us onto the Franklin Shuttle. The kids are wonderfully natty; boys and girls stride aboard wearing platform shoes that defy balance, pants with big bells, hats, lots of jewelry, elaborate hair-dos. While I am aware that teenagers in groups are responsible for a fair amount of subway crime, I cannot imagine this stylish group doing anything to muss their clothes. Subway history is full of accounts of rampage and vandalism. Two days after the 1904 opening, eight youths armed with buckshot blowers boarded the new subway at 145th St. and proceeded to shoot out the electric lights while doing gymnastic stunts on the straps. Two were arrested at 96th St., the rest escaped. But this was not the first subway crime. That occurred opening night. During the crowded ride north from Brooklyn Bridge Station, someone lifted the $500 diamond stickpin that had been holding down the tie of Harry Barret of W. 46th St. When he reached Grand Central, his necktie was flapping.
3:50. The return shuttle is almost empty. As it approaches Prospect Park again, we pass near Empire Blvd. In November of 1918 it was still called Malbone St. The name was changed after the Brighton Beach Special, jammed with evening rush hour passengers, failed to make a curve at the tunnel there. Five wooden cars, taken over from the old Brooklyn Union Railroad, were dashed to bits, and passengers thrown rapidly along the tunnel walls, literally had their faces rubbed away. Ninety-seven lost their lives, 150 were injured, and for days the accident drove World War I right off the front pages, When motorman Edward A. Luciano gave himself up, he was found to have had only two hours of instruction before being given the controller at Park Row in Manhattan. Earlier that morning – before motormen walked out in a dispute over unionization – Luciano had been a yard switchman. His promotion was sudden – this was his first run. He was acquitted, and the union made its point.
5:02. I am picking up a few stray miles under Rockefeller Center when evening rush hour begins. While I know the total 3.8 million daily subway riders cannot all be taking the D train tonight – it feels as if they are. Jammed shoulder to shoulder, passengers have nowhere to look but up. Above our heads, “Miss Subways” stares out of her poster, giving us a strained smile, “hoping to do some modeling.” Since 1941, when the contest began, over 200 New York working girls have become “Miss Subways.” In the early years, a new face showed up every month. Currently, two winners, out of six finalists, are chosen every eight months by passenger vote. Miss Subways receives a $40.00 charm bracelet dangling silver tokens, and her picture decorates the 6,700 subway cards for a three-month period. I ride standing all the way to 205th St., Bronx. Sheer endurance does not win a girl the title.
6:10. At 168th St. and Broadway, I change trains again, and descend into the IRT on a hot automated elevator to ride the Seventh Ave. local to Van Cortlandt Park. The ride is through the deepest section of track in the whole system: 180 feet below street level at the 191st St. and St. Nicholas Ave. station.
7:00. Moving under Harlem on the No. 3, a rather splashy train with big graffiti – mustard yellow and pink predominate. Despite $10 million spent to remove graffiti and 1,562 arrests in 1972, the TA is losing the “spray can war.” I read off the names: Supreme King 219, Snake II, Lopez 138, and amuse myself trying to think up my own subway logo – in case graffiti should become legal. Outside the stations pass, dingy, written all over. Two Black Muslims move in and out of the strap-hangers selling Mohammed Speaks. On this line, I am a “token white” – the pun lifts my spirits.
8:02. TA police range the E. 180th St., Bronx platform where the No. 2 pauses. One boards, walkie-talkie mumbling at his waist. He will be riding until 4 a.m. Since May of 1965, a uniformed transit patrolman has been assigned to every train during these hours.
10:30. I stand in the first car, face pressed against the glass, speeding through a dark, underground world, the lighted coach behind me forgotten, as the black tunnel comes on. Tracks in perspective lines rush, disappearing under my feet, crossing, converging ahead. Signal lights change: yellow – “proceed with reduced speed,” green over yellow – “on diverging track.” Express lines mount, as local tracks sink in the dark. In the distance, tiny orange lights flicker above the tracks, then disappear where track-men carrying lanterns dive into the sidings. Now the square, metal-pillared cut rounds into a tube; we approach the old, 1908, Battery-Joralemon tunnel. Green lights signal us through. I make myself useful peering intently at the dark curved walls, checking for leaks.
1:12. The Wilson Ave. station on the Canarsie line is a narrow, double-decked curiosity: one track occupies each level – the eastbound track emerges, briefly elevated, traveling above the underground westbound span. We pass the deserted platform in half light. It faces – a single track away – the Cemetery of the Evergreens. No one in his right mind would get off at Wilson Ave. at 1:12 in the morning. No one did.
2:30. The A train heads out over the waters of Jamaica Bay, leaving behind the huge glow of JFK that arc-lights the eastern sky. I have made the Rockaway Round Robin on schedule and can relax. Only between the hours of midnight and 6 a.m. is it possible to cover the entire Rockaway peninsula on a single train. This 19th century summer beach resort was linked to the L.I.R.R. until 1956, when service was transferred to the IND. The train moves further out across the vast, dark bay. Only feet below on either side, water laps the narrow trestle. Far out, a crescent of lights veers gently inward on the long railroad stem. Beyond that brilliant curve, the ocean pounds. For miles around the night is black and cold, the water deep. A strange place for a New York subway train.
4:00. And farewell to Lefferts Blvd.
5:30. Waits are long now. The work trains move slowly underground through nearly empty stations, picking up trash and cleaning out tunnels. The New York bars have closed, and some standees on the Hoyt St. platform bear witness to this fact. A heavy black woman joins me; she walks as if her feet hurt, and I suspect she has just got off work. The trains always take a while at this hour, she tells me. We stand together on the platform, unacknowledged sisters, re-enforcing each other. In 1907, the Hudson Tubes were still running Women Only Cars with guards aboard to insure protection. I guess we have come a long way.
At 6:26 the sun rises over Greenwood Cemetery where I am passing, for the second time, over an elderly bit of track known as the Culver Shuttle; 1.1 miles still bear tribute to Andrew Culver, who built a steam railroad to Coney Island that passed over this site in the 1880s.
7:00 – Coney Island for the second time in two days! Crossing the Stillwell Terminal overpass, I go by the employees cafeteria and smell breakfast. On the Sea Beach Line, morning rush hour is just beginning. This is the third rush hour I have ridden through without leaving the subway. The poignancy of that situation might be enough to make one who has dined off Zagnut bars, peanuts, and Lucy Ellen orange slices for two days, get a cramp. I try not to think of hot coffee.
8:10. Changing trains at Union Square I am especially careful, warned by history. The first subway passenger accident occurred here Opening Day, 1904. A Miss Sadie Lawson, 26, of Jersey City, who had been riding north and south for several hours, fell getting off the southbound train and broke her hip. I grab a metal strap and hang on tightly all the way to 42nd St.
8:25. Times Square. The 42nd St. shuttle contains 2,700 feet of original 1904 IRT track, now isolated. In 1928, the second worst accident in New York subway history happened just south of here on the Seventh Ave. line. A defective switch broke as the ninth car of a 10-car theater rush-hour train was passing over it. The rear wheels switched to a diverging track and the ninth car, running suddenly at right angles to the others, was sheared in two by the steel pillars between tracks. This mechanical “crack the whip” killed 18 passengers and injured 100.
9:30. The Lexington Ave. Express emerges into bright sunlight just before the old Yankee Stadium. Once, under a glaring blue sky, its lacy wood trim gleamed white like decorative icing – a great hollow cake with a short right field. Now, under the ungentle touch of the renovators, the place is growing unrecognizable. At the Woodlawn terminus, the leaves have lost their Fall colors, but on the golf course below, lucky men tee off across rolling fairways. It is a splendid day for riding elevated trains.
10:39. Pelham Bay Park. I have made the trip – on 67 different trains – in only 26 hours and 36 minutes. 26 hours and 36 minutes! The thought that I may be the first woman to complete the ride does not console me at all. But the sun is shining. And I have my logo: Ms. Subways 114.
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You can read this essay and other great ones just like it in How the Camp Fire Girls Won World War II by Rebecca Morris.
Also, read more 1970s subways coverage from the Village Voice here.
Monday, December 12, 2022
Trotsky in Da' Bronx
A few years ago I wrote a short blog post about some of the more memorable headlines that have appeared in the NYC newspapers over the decades (most recently, in reference to the Good Morning America anchor adultery scandal, it was "Good Moaning America").
Anyway, in late 1917, a headline appeared in a local paper called Bronx Home News that had to make its readers do a double-take: "Bronx Man Leads Russian Revolution."
The man in question was Leon Trotsky who, after Vladimir Lenin, became the second most powerful person in the newly formed Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, the world's first Bolshevik i.e. Communist nation. Wrecked by its disastrous participation in the First World War, the centuries-old Russian Empire crumbled into chaos. After numerous political convulsions, the world's largest nation, once ruled by the sacred autocratic Tsars, turned into a supposed "workers paradise", a hypothetical communist utopia.
It was not to be, obviously, but in late 1917 no one knew that -- all that Russians knew was that a failed and discredited monarchy had been destroyed, and a new socialist experiment had come along. Trotsky was one of its primary leaders, its main apostles, and for the next decade he would exercise awesome power -- until, he too, met his ruin at the hands of Joseph Stalin.
A professional revolutionary, Trotsky lived a nomadic, stateless existence. A wanted man in Russia, he was exiled to Siberia twice, and spent most of his time bouncing around Europe (Switzerland, the UK, France, and Spain) before arriving in NYC in January 1917. His first impression of the city was:
"Here I was in New York, city of prose and fantasy, of capitalist automatism, its streets a triumph of cubism, its moral philosophy that of the dollar. New York impressed me tremendously because, more than any other city in the world, it is the fullest expression of our modern age.”
Taking up residence on either 164 street or 172 street in the Bronx (it's not certain exactly where he resided), Trotsky lived in the city for only ten weeks, leaving in late March 1917. However, he made the most of his brief American sojourn, doing research and writing at the New York Public Library, engaging in anti-war debates at Cooper Union, going to food protests in St. Mark's Place and City Hall, and engaging in socialist agitation. It's important to remember that, prior to the Russian Revolution and the Cold War, there was a strong socialist movement in this city and country before the FBI and the government shut it down. Trotsky's goal was to organize socialist activity in America -- but then, in March 1917, revolution broke out in Russia. Trotsky left, sailing away from NYC and into history.
Perhaps, during his brief time in NYC, Trotsky should have realized that communism would fail. Even though he lived in a small and modest apartment, he was shocked to discover that it had things like electricity, heat, a phone, and even a garbage shoot. He could see, even then, that America was the future.
Back in Russia, Trotsky participated in the October 1917 Bolshevik seizure of power. Almost immediately a civil war broke out between the Reds (the Bolshevik forces) and the Whites ("monarchists, conservatives, and Tsarist generals", as the sneering Ian Holm character says in the 1971 movie Nicholas & Alexandra, "all our enemies). Trotsky led the Red forces to victory as War Commissar in 1922. This victory cemented the Soviet Union's existence. Trotsky was at the height of his power.
But in 1924, Lenin, the USSR's first leader and Trotsky's patron, died. A vicious power battle between Trotsky and Stalin ensued. Trotsky lost and was out of power by 1925 -- and by 1929 he was out of the Soviet Union, exiled from the nation he had helped found, resuming a stateless, rootless life. He eventually landed in Mexico City, living in a guarded house, until he was killed by a Stalinist agent who buried an ice pick in his head in 1941.
If Trotsky has survived, if he and not Stalin had become Lenin's successor, the history of the Soviet Union and the world would have been much different. Perhaps it would have become a humane socialist nation. Instead, with Stalin, the USSR became a cult of personality, it became a terror state of gulags and death, it did not become a worker's paradise, it became hell. Trotsky was an idealist but Stalin was a brutal tactician -- and that's why history played out the way it did.
At least Trotsky got to spend some time in NYC -- most of his fellow revolutionaries never did.
Apropos of my comment about the 1971 movie Nicholas & Alexandra, I highly recommend it -- it's an old-fashioned costume epic about the last Tsar and his wife, the kind of big movie they don't make anymore. It also has an amazing cast including a very young Brian Cox who plays Trotsky. If you're a fan of his hit show Succession where he plays an old, super wealthy media titan, it's cool to watch him in this movie, nearly 50 years earlier, playing a young idealistic Bolshevik revolutionary. There aren't any scenes in NYC, sadly, but it's still worth watching.