Brooklyn’s sprawling, historic Green-Wood Cemetery has fast become one of my favorite places in the city. This cemetery-as-park serves as the last resting place for many of the city’s most famous figures, as well as a few of its most infamous. On a recent walking tour of the cemetery, I visited some of the most notorious scalawags and tragic figures.
Cave Hill in Louisville is, like Brooklyn’s Green-Wood, one of the finest, most beautiful public parks in the world. It also happens to be a sprawling cemetery, designed in the era of “garden cemeteries,” full of opulent and/or spooky monuments and historic figures. Chartered in 1848 (just ten years after Green-Wood), Cave Hill has become a popular destination for strollers and history buffs. It is the last resting place of local and international figures like Colonel Sanders, Julian “Pappy” Van Winkle, cult film director William Girdler, the Frito-Lay magician, and a vast assortment of local generals, mayors, captains of industry, and luminaries. I set myself loose on the grounds armed with a Lomo LCA and Holga to wander aimlessly and capture some of my favorite spots in a cemetery so huge that there are still, all these decades later, unknown corners.
If you brave the tourist-chocked nightmare that is the Penn Station/Madison Square Garden area of Manhattan and manage to push your way through the throngs of dazed people waiting for the budget Bolt Bus lined up along 33rd Street, and look for the small sign next to the larger signs for psychics and porno videos, you will find 421 7th Ave — Fantasma Magic. Through the nondescript office building lobby, on the 3rd floor, you will find a phantasmagorically decorated hallway lined with posters and reflective wallpaper that leads you to Fantasma’s small but absorbing Houdini Museum of New York. Inside, clerks and local magicians hang out with visitors at the counter, showing off and sometimes even exposing the secret behind sleight of hand magic tricks. Lining the walls is a small wealth of Houdini memorabilia. More is stored in a couple glass display cases. And the far wall showcases, among other things, some of the props from Houdini’s greatest escapes and even includes an animatronic Houdini that will escape from a straight jacket for you.
Owing to its proximity, my interest in poking about in history, and the ease of getting to it by mass transit means, Washington DC has become my most common short holiday from New York. As I am not one who finds visiting well-trodden tourist destinations to be distasteful or unfulfilling, I have logged more than my fair share of time at the city’s sundry monuments and museums. I have gazed upon The Bill of Rights, the Korean War memorial, that painting of George Washington we put on our money, and the Wright Brothers flyer. But while I consider destinations like The Smithsonian to be among this country’s great national treasures, I am also a fan of slightly less respectable educational endeavors and spectacles.
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.
Green-Wood Cemetery is one of New York’s most storied historic spots, a garden cemetery that was conceived not just as a resting place for many of New York’s most famous and infamous citizens, but also as a park and spot to simply promenade in your weekend finery. Located in Brooklyn and on the site of the Revolutionary War’s Battle of Brooklyn, the cemetery is a beautiful, sprawling oasis filled with greenery, flowers, monuments, and of course, some of the city’s most famous dead — as well as some local parrots.
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.
I am a huge fan of George RR Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire. Well, I am a huge fan of the first three books, tolerate the fourth, and consider the fifth one of the worst books I’ve ever read — but I am still qualifying myself as a huge fan since I am looking forward to the rest of the series regardless of my displeasure with A Dance with Dragons. But I am also cheap and slow, so I have yet to watch any but the first episode of HBO’s adaptation, A Game of Thrones. I keep meaning to, but then I just end up watching another season of Starz’ Spartacus instead. But when HBO and local villain Time-Warner Cable announced an exhibit of props from the show as part of the push for the new season, I was interested enough to go. Unfortunately, so was most of the rest of New York.
In February of 2005, the bleak winter landscape of New York’s Central Park was splashed with color when Bulgarian artist Christo Yavacheff and French artist Jeanne-Claude erected hundreds of gates with bright orange curtains along twenty-three miles of Central Park pathways. Construction of the art piece took 5,390 tons of steel, 315,491 feet of vinyl tubing, and 99,155 square meters. The gates were assembled in Long Island and trucked to the park, where they had to be erected without being bolted or dug into the park.