The Newtown Pentacle

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Frustration marks this posting, which focuses in on the Moore Newman monument at First Calvary Cemetery here in Queens, at the very heart of the Newtown Pentacle. Stylish even after a century has passed, the monument consists of a central obelisk with figurative statuary at its apex and a series of foot stones demarcating the borders of the family plot.

It was also here in 1876, long before its two principal occupants ended their New York stories in the early 20th century.

from The visitor’s guide to Calvary cemetery, with map and illustrations (1876), courtesy archive.org

This is a most substantial double monument, the shaft being divided by a deeply cut line, as is also the die. It presents with the inclosure a very neat and pleasing appearance, displaying much taste in its design andi construction. It stands about twenty-one feet in height, is of Egyptian order of architecture, and of the best Quincy granite.

On the shaft, inclosed in palm wreaths, are the monograms ” M.— N.”

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Obviously people of certain means and social standing- the tenement poor of New York City didn’t get 21 foot granite monuments- there seems to be little or no record of Mary A. Moore or Michael James Newman. Passing references to a Tammany functionary named Michael J. Newman offer hints that this might be the fellow buried here, but nothing definitive can be ascertained. Additionally, a Mary A. Moore, referred to as “a widow” have popped up here and there.

Unfortunately, these were very common Irish names in the 19th century.

from Wikipedia

Granite is classified according to the QAPF diagram for coarse grained plutonic rocks and is named according to the percentage of quartz, alkali feldspar (orthoclase, sanidine, or microcline) and plagioclase feldspar on the A-Q-P half of the diagram. True granite according to modern petrologic convention contains both plagioclase and alkali feldspars. When a granitoid is devoid or nearly devoid of plagioclase, the rock is referred to as alkali granite. When a granitoid contains less than 10% orthoclase, it is called tonalite; pyroxene and amphibole are common in tonalite. A granite containing both muscovite and biotite micas is called a binary or two-mica granite. Two-mica granites are typically high in potassium and low in plagioclase, and are usually S-type granites or A-type granites. The volcanic equivalent of plutonic granite is rhyolite. Granite has poor primary permeability but strong secondary permeability.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

The usage of Quincy Granite for construction of the stelae also indicate the social standing of the couple, as this particular mineral is the gold standard for permanence and has always been an expensive option as far as building materials goes. Quincy is a famous quarry town in Massachusetts, and the mining of Quincy Granite gave rise to one of the first industrial uses of rail in the United States.

from Wikipedia

The Granite Railway was one of the first railroads in the United States, built to carry granite from Quincy to a dock on the Neponset River in Milton. From there boats carried the heavy stone to Charlestown for construction of the Bunker Hill Monument. The Granite Railway is popularly termed the first commercial railroad in the United States, as it was the first chartered railway to evolve into a common carrier without an intervening closure. The last active quarry closed in 1963; in 1985, the Metropolitan District Commission purchased 22 acres, including Granite Railway Quarry, as the Quincy Quarries Reservation.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Enormous effort was undertaken to discover the identity of the Moore-Newman’s, who seem to have disappeared into history. The antecedents on the Moore side of the family are listed here, but it is doubtful that their remains lie in Calvary. A standard practice of Irish New Yorkers in the 19th century was to list long lost family members as an “In memoriam” on their own stone. Often the parents were buried at one of the churchyards or private cemeteries which Manhattan once hosted, like the 9th street Catholic Cemetery, at their own plots after Calvary was established in Blissville in 1848.

from wikipedia

Taphophilia is a passion for and enjoyment of cemeteries. The singular term is a taphophile.

Taphophilia involves epitaphs, gravestone rubbing, photography, art, and history of (famous) deaths. An example of an individual’s expression of taphophilia is the character Harold in the movie Harold and Maude (1971).

Taphophilia should not be confused with necrophilia, which is a sexual attraction to corpses.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

An understandable lack of documentation exists about the process by which, after the Rural Cemeteries Act was passed, the exhumation of thousands of internments and concurrent transportation of the remains to Calvary were accomplished. Understand that the somewhat tribal nature of New York City in the mid 19th century, marked by internecine warfare between religious denomination and nationalist creeds, made for a lack of record keeping. If the church offered a public record of its activities, the Protestant Anglophiles at newspapers like the NY Times would have pilloried them for one reason or another. Catholics were a favorite target of that culture, which still considered protestant England the apogee of civilization, and viewed the “Papists” as a fifth column to be feared and despised.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Oddly, given other societal norms which we 21st century New Yorkers would find odious- specifically the role and rights of females- it’s the voice of Mary A. Moore which persists through time. An obituary notice preserves her grief over the loss of her husband, whom she would shortly follow into the emerald devastations of Calvary Cemetery.

from ancestry.com

In ever present sorrow of my devoted husband, Michael James Newman, who passed away Sept. 17, 1903. “Not gone from memory, not gone from love.”

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Wandering around Calvary Cemetery is often a revelatory experience, and while perambulating through the hallows of Section 9 the other day, the shock of sudden recognition nearly laid me low. While scanning the monolith studded landscape for certain things which cannot be mentioned, the name of one of history’s most famous New Yorkers suddenly appeared before me.

Steve Brodie… The man who jumped from the Brooklyn Bridge and lived to talk about it.

Steve Brodie, photo courtesy Wikipedia

also from wikipedia

Steve Brodie (December 25, 1861 – January 31, 1901) was an American from New York City who claimed to have jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge and survived on July 23, 1886. The resulting publicity from the supposed jump, whose veracity was disputed, gave Brodie publicity, a thriving saloon and a career as an actor.

Brodie’s fame persisted long past his death, with Brodie portrayed in films and with the slang terms “taking a Brodie” and “Brodie” entering the language for “taking a chance” and “suicidal leap.”

- photo by Mitch Waxman

There weren’t just three major newspapers in 1886, there were hundreds, and the proto “media” ate up Steve Brodie’s story, turning him into a celebrity. From all accounts, Brodie found every advantage offered by fame- opening a swank saloon on the Bowery and starring in a popular play about his exploits.

He would always be known as the “bridge jumper”.

from nytimes.com

A tall, slim man, who looked very much like an overgrown street boy, stood talking to a young woman at the New-York end of the Brooklyn bridge a little after 2 o’clock yesterday afternoon. He bade her good-bye and kissed her.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

The scourge of the 19th century was “consumption”, or as we call it “tuberculosis”, and Brodie took ill. Like other “lungers”, it was thought that the dry air of the southwest would aid him in fighting the affliction and he packed off for San Antonio in Texas.

That’s where he died.

from nytimes.com

The body was taken to Calvary Cemetery for burial. A crowd of 500 or 600 men, women, and children, attracted by curiosity remained in the streets during the services at the house, and many of them followed the funeral cortege to Ninety Second Street Ferry on its way to the cemetery.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

It is a real shame that someone has decided to pry the probable white bronze marker from the monument, which would have occurred in the empty oval space directly above the names and dates which remain. Such is the case though, and there are many instances of such theft not just at Calvary but at all the cemeteries which comprise the cemetery belt of western Queens.

It’s pretty low to steal from the dead, in one humble narrators opinion.

An interesting analysis of whether or not Mr. Brodie actually made his jump was published by “The Day” in 1986. Click here for the article by Larry McShane.

Steve Brodie, photo courtesy Wikipedia

ALSO, this Friday:

My own attempt at presenting a cogent narrative and historical journey “up the creek” is up coming as well-

Your humble narrator will be narrating humbly on Friday, February 24th at 7:30 P.M. for the“Ridgewood Democratic Club, 60-70 Putnam Avenue, Ridgewood, NY 11385” as the “Newtown Creek Magic Lantern Show” is presented to their esteemed group. The club hosts a public meeting, with guests and neighbors welcome, and say that refreshments will be served.

The “Magic Lantern Show” is actually a slideshow, packed with informative text and graphics, wherein we approach and explore the entire Newtown Creek. Every tributary, bridge, and significant spot are examined and illustrated with photography. This virtual tour will be augmented by personal observation and recollection by yours truly, with a question and answer period following.

For those of you who might have seen it last year, the presentation has been streamlined, augmented with new views, and updated with some of the emerging stories about Newtown Creek which have been exclusively reported on at this- your Newtown Pentacle.

For more information, please contact me here.

What: Newtown Creek Magic Lantern Show

When: Friday, February 24th at 7:30 P.M.

Where: Ridgewood Democratic Club, 60-70 Putnam Avenue, Ridgewood, NY 11385

- photo by Mitch Waxman

It lives on the corner of Van Dam and Review, and clearly remembers when the self storage place across the street was a pickle factory. Like all long time residents of Queens, it can barely recognize the place these days, but carries on and sallies forth on the daily round. It’s not old enough to remember the Greenpoint Avenue Bridge burning down, twice. Neither does it remember Gleason’s trolleys nor the vast funeral cortèges that emptied the Five Points as they proceeded to Calvary. Memory is not a strong point for its kind, for as a watchman, the sole function it must serve is to raise the alarum.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Whilst marching past the sky flung and quite cyclopean walls of First Calvary Cemetery, which form the border between life and death along Review Avenue here in Queens, your humble narrator found himself stricken with certain longings for times past. Not the usual longings, borne of long nocturnal studies into the occluded and dim history of the fabled Newtown Creek and environs, but instead a desire to return to that moment in time when it was all new to me- just a few years ago. Far have my solitary marches across the concrete desolations of the Newtown Pentacle taken me from that original path.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

When that hellish green flame of revelation was first lit, before I found out about Conrad Wessel and Cord Meyer and had no idea who Michael Degnon or Dagger John might be, the wonderland of Newtown Creek was merely another industrial area which had fallen on hard times and the sort of place which I always found myself wandering through. As a kid, it was south Brooklyn and the maritime era leave behinds which adorn Jamaica Bay. These days I’m conducting tours of the area for academic and political crowds, and speaking extemporaneously on the historic ramifications of it. Fear has risen in me that I’m losing my focus.

I almost walked past this glob of risible decay without photographing it, for instance.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Recent inundation, which has been typical for the storm addled year of 2011, has saturated the low lying alluvial plain around the Creek and betrayed its past as wetlands. Accordingly, anything lying on an open patch of dirt immediately becomes soaked. I couldn’t tell you what this glutinous mass with a vaguely fibrous texture once was, but I am oh so glad I was still capable to notice it. The thing about the Newtown Pentacle, a term coined to describe the pentangular geographic distribution of the early European colonies in western Queens and Northern Brooklyn, is that the devil is always in the details.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Microscopy upon any subject often obscures the larger themes surrounding it, in essence when you follow Alice down the rabbit hole, you forget that the shire still lies without. The pile of discarded newspapers in the shot above, which are curiously and analogously arranged in the shape of a fallen man, obscured a bag of pots and pans. Repulsively filthy, one of the cooking pans was filled with human excrement.

Curiously, the pans were in the approximate location that a pelvis might be found on a human.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

It has been painful to stand in public, as to be seen by so many diminishes me. Duty, however, demands that I tell the story of this place, no matter the personal cost.

This Sunday, the public tours of Newtown Creek will be departing from Pier 17 at South Street Seaport. The afternoon session is already sold out, but a few tickets are still available for the morning one. Heavily discounted (and I would point out that I have zero financial interest in the tours) at $10, due to a grant from NYCEF fund of the Hudson River Foundation, these will most likely be the last chance for the general public to see the Newtown Creek by boat until the spring.

And your humble narrator is anxious to get back out on the streets and find more mystery globs of risible decay, altars of unknown and foreign gods, and the graves of both Battle Ax Gleason and “he who must not be named”…

- photo by Mitch Waxman

The final product of my “Grand Walk” which was found on my camera card, which was populated by these puzzling images of centuried statuary lost amongst First Calvary’s emerald devastations.

The figure is life sized, according and conforming to the proportions and stature of the malnourished 19th century. In our modern era of gigantic milk, beef, and grain fed humans, when 6 feet of height is not an uncommon attainment for Italians, Irish, and Chinese alike (all 3 notoriously short statured groups according to historical anecdote), she seems to be a young girl- but this delicate figure conforms to statistical adult height records of 19th century immigrant New York.

We often forget, when discussing fashionable dining trends (locavore or vegan, organic or farm raised- bleh) that the primary goal of our forebears wasn’t ultimately financial acquisition, but was instead a guarantee of basic nutrition.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Pithy commentary about the fallacies of a modern world, corporatized and commercialized, notwithstanding- attention is called to the plastic baubles which the monument has been adorned with. Such commemorate decoration is commonly observed at area cemeteries, although the rules and bylaws of these institutions publish severe limitations on acceptable grave ornamentation. Unless taste and or propriety are offended, the management seems to allow these minor decorative touches to subsist for a time, after which the activities of groundskeeping and upkeep sweep the place clean.

Behind a fence or near a seldom used entranceway at any of these urban polyandrions, once can easily locate a dumpster containing a polyglot of rotting flowers in cheap vases, joss paper idols, and a cacophony of sentimental or religious trinkets which lie glittering amidst the debris.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

The trinket itself is pedestrian, a childish and injection molded representation of grapes on the vine. What sets me to wonder, and more than wonder, is that undeniable resemblance to the color of the purple bloom worn by the apostate Hibernian and his bizarre companions whose threatening aspect hurled me into a panicked state and meandering escape route through the ancient sections of New York City.

I’ve been queried via private email about this person by several people. Unfortunately, as mentioned in the last posting, I can only remember bits and pieces- but the flower in his lapel matched the color of these plastic beads exactly- of that I can be sure.

What does it mean? I cannot tell you, as it would be madness to attempt the connection of dots between a seemingly random series of events.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Did your humble narrator, stricken by terror induced delirium, randomly stumble along deeply buried trolley tracks past storefront mystics on Delancey Street and over the Williamsburg Bridge into the heart of 19th century Williamsburg?

It was in the piecing together of these seemingly random shots, in their proper order, that the various historical tidbits began to present themselves, and the journey across the Newtown Creek and through Maspeth led into places which I had never suspected- such as the story of Case’s Crew (the apostate Friends shunned by most, but welcomed here).

Local historical authorities reacted in a bizarre and hostile manner when queried about this group of apostate Friends, I would add. The impression of this exchange puzzled me, but for some, knowledge is meant to be suppressed and zealously hidden away in a vault rather than disseminated freely.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Often, as I pack up my ridiculous “field kit” and leave the house for one of my “walks” about the vast human hive, I will joke that “I feel like Queens wants me to see something today, probably “that way”- as I gesture in some random direction to Our Lady of the Pentacle or my little dog Zuzu.

Our lady smiles and says “bless”, while Zuzu usually turns around to see what I’m pointing at.

I’ve learned it’s just best to listen to Queens, as it suffers beneath the load it bears for the rest of the City, and simply attempt to understand its terrible story. If some decide to stand in my way, or otherwise obstruct me, they will know what it means to burn away into ignominy and learn the meaning of the words inexorable, irresistible, and merciless.

The story, it’s parable, and the answers to the future offered by this ancient place are too important.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

This “Grand Walk” ended at Greenpoint Avenue, apparently, or at least that’s when the pictures stopped.

The final shot was of the Long Island Expressway from First Calvary, an elevated roadway which hurtles as high as 106 feet above Borden Avenue and that liquid malignity which fills the banks of Dutch Kills. Borden Avenue, of course, is a counterpart to Grand Street in Brooklyn- another ferry to trolley road corridor which has been forgotten and obliterated by modernity.

Ultimately, all roads do indeed seem to lead to Calvary, here in the Newtown Pentacle.

from Documents of the Senate of the State of New York, Volume 5, 18dd, courtesy google books

The road is a double track line laid in the center of Borden avenue, from Vernon to Bradley avenues, and thence a single track along Bradley avenue to Green Point avenue and entrance to Calvary cemetery.

At Vernon avenue a junction is made, and tracks used of the Steinway and Hunter’s Point railroad, along Borden avenue to the Thirty-fourth street ferry slips fronting on East river. A piece of track is laid from Borden avenue along Front street to Third street, a portion of which is used for storing cars, and there is a short side track at the cemetery terminal.

The total length of road now owned and operated from Vernon to Green Point avenues is about one and two-fifths miles, and the portion of the Steinway railroad operated jointly is about one-fifth of a mile, making a total length of road owned, leased and operated by the Long Island City and Calvary Cemetery Railroad Company one and three fifths miles.

Borden avenue is paved with block stone as far south as the drawbridge over the Dutch Kills canal; the remainder of the track is laid upon and along the center of an ordinary earth roadway.

The superstructure is laid with fiat iron street rails where the street is paved, and also along Bradley avenue a distance of onefifth mile.

The general construction of the superstructure is not as permanent in character and condition of maintenance as generally found on surface roads. Ties are widely spaced, and flat rail not thoroughly secured to longitudinal timbers, and the line and surface imperfect. South of the draw-bridge, upon the earth road-bed, the track is laid with light T rails, secured at ends with fish plate, many of which are omitted, causing the ends to form an uneven vertical joint.

From the crossing of the Long Island railroad to Bradley avenue, Borden avenue is a roadway raised up about eight feet above the low flat lands bordering the Dutch Kill and Newton creek, and the portion of the avenue south of the canal is being raised each year, requiring a corresponding raise of superstructure, which may account in part for the imperfect condition of that portion of the tracks; no serious inconvenience can bo experienced, however, as the cars have good, easy springs, and they ride the rail fairly well; yet a thoroughly Constructed, lined and surfaced superstructure would add to the comfort of passengers, and insure greater speed at less outlay of power.

At Calvary cemetery no separate waiting-room is provided, those in hotels being used. At the northerly terminal the covered way and waiting-rooms of the ferry are conveniently near, and afford protection in inclement weather.