This past weekend offered a rare respite from our recent rainy weather. And speaking of rare, we got the rare opportunity to visit one of the jewels of off-limits subway lore: the abandoned City Hall station in Lower Manhattan. The station was the first station on New York’s brand new subway line. As such, it was designed to be particularly showy. Designed by Rafael Guastavino, the station opened on October 27, 1904 as the southern terminus of the IRT (Interborough Rapid Transit). It boasted Guastavino tile, skylights, stained glass, and brass chandeliers. Unfortunately some years later, transit passengers began to favor the much larger, nearby Brooklyn Bridge station. Because the City Hall station was built as a loop, it could not be easily expanded to compensate for larger crowds or extended to serve Brooklyn. And the curved track left a precarious gap between the train and the platform. Use of the station declined, until it was finally closed on December 31, 1945.
On Memorial Day Weekend 2013, we had the chance to go on one of the many neighborhood walking tours conducted by the NYC Tenement Museum. It was a cold and sporadically rainy day, but that didn’t stop every tour that day from selling out — something I gather is the case pretty much every weekend, so if you want to go on one, book ahead. We chose The Lower East Side: Then and Now, which focused on the ways in which the architecture and ethnic make-up of the neighborhood has changed over the years. It was a fantastic walk despite the weather, and well worth the price of admission.
It was a gorgeous day today, so it seemed a good opportunity to take the camera out on my lunch break and snap a few shots of the gargoyles hanging out around my office at Astor Place in Manhattan. So I wandered up and down Lafayette and Broadway between Great Jones and the south end of Union Square to see what I could find.
February 21’s Good Spirits represents the second Edible magazine event I’ve had the chance to attend, the fourth time they’e done this particular event, and for my money they put on one of the best and best-organized food and drink events in the city. This year’s event was held at 82 Mercer, and only twice in my preparation did I pause and stupidly ask myself what their address was. It’s a nice space with two cavernous rooms which, for this event, were lined with tables staffed by some of New York’s most interesting food, spirits, and cocktail makers. It’s almost overwhelming the amount of food and drink available for the sampling, but Edible organizes their events in such a way that, even with a large crowd and a lot of vendors, it’s easy to both gauge what you want and actually get to it. A lot of food and drink events are circus disasters, oversold, jammed too full of attendees, and impossible to move around during. Not so here. I know talking about crowd control and logistics isn’t terribly exciting, but when you’ve been to enough events that don’t have these things down, you suddenly realize how important it is and how much more enjoyable it makes an event.
Despite living in New York for some fifteen years now, and despite the iconic nature of this particular attraction, I had never been on — nor indeed even seen — the Roosevelt Island Tram. Somehow, despite countless trips up and down the FDR Drive and occasional trips back and forth across the Queensboro Bridge, I never once caught a glimpse of that bright red skytram being tugged across the East River on suspended cables. It could possibly be because I was, you know, driving, and if you’ve ever been in that particular part of town you know that it does not usually work out very well to distract oneself from the road. Eventually though, and probably after staying up late watching Nighthawks yet again, it was determined that enough was enough. High time to get suspended high above the river en route to a river island about which I know very little and which is visited rarely by anyone who does not live there.
New York’s subway stations are adorned with many an odd historical curio, image, mural, or hidden wonder. One of the first ones I ever noticed and thought to wonder about was the beavers diligently gnawing away at branches throughout the Astor Place 6 train station. These furry little devils probably represent the point at which I decided not just to live, work, and play in New York, but also to poke around in its history — the stranger and more obscure, the better — and eventually become one of those weird old guys who wanders around with a pair of binoculars, offering tourism tips and trivia to random passersby who probably just want to get their picture taken with one of those ratty-looking Times Square Elmos. Anyway, despite being a relatively small (and these days, frequently shut down for weekend construction) station, Astor Place packs a lot of people in every day thanks to its East Village location. It also manages to pack a substantial amount of oddball history onto its modest platform, history that includes the richest man in America, an abandoned passage, a deadly riot, and yes — beavers.
As we mentioned in the article about the secret train platform beneath Grand Central Terminal, the venerable New York City landmark turned one hundred this month. The anniversary is being marked by a number of events, sales, displays, and tours that unfortunately were already sold out by the time I learned about them. Still, not one to be deterred, a crew of us dropped in for the birthday celebration and sought out our own Grand Central sights and curiosities. I’ve poked through the station numerous times yet still managed to find some things I’d never seen before.
Happy 100, Grand Central. The clock above the information booth has an opal face and is worth somewhere around $10-15 million, though rumor has it that the one on display is a replica. There is also a tiny cylindrical tube inside the booth. It contains a stairwell that leads to an employees’ only area below the floor of the plaza.