Archive for September 2010
2010 Great North River Tugboat Race
– photos by Mitch Waxman
Sunday the 5th of September saw the Hudson River boiling with Tugboats, and your humble narrator was onboard the stout Launch 5 (a former NYPD patrol boat- aka the Patrolman Walburger- whose sturdy crew generously hosted me) shooting photos. Check out the flickr slideshow above (which can also be accessed here) and the race results below.
The Race results as released by the Working Harbor Committee:
18th Annual Great North River Tugboat Race & Competition – 5 September 2010 Working Harbor Committee
SHIP, Company – TIME- HP – CLASS – FINISH IN CLASS
- Maurania III – McAllister Towing – 5:09 – 4,000- A 1
- Cornell – Lehigh Maritime – 5:15 – 1,800 – A 2 (tie)
- Meagan Ann – Donjon Marine – 5:15 – 2,000 – A 2 (tie)
- Cheyenne – Donjon Marine – 5:25 – 1,800 – A 3
- Atlantic Salver – Donjon Marine – 5:55 – 7,200 – A 4
- Catherine Miller – Miller’s Launch – 6:23 – 1,200 – B 1
- Susan Miller – Miller’s Launch – 6:36 – 1,500 – B 2
- Sea Wolf – Sea Wolf Marine – 6:49 – 1,400 – B 3
- Mary H – Bren Transportation – 6:52 – 900 – B 4
- Vulcan – Derrick Marine – 6:56 – 500 – C 1
- W. O. Decker – Seaport Museum – 7:31 – 285 – C 2
- The Bronx – Robert & Lucy Apuzzo – 7:40 – 220 – C 3
- Shawn Miller – Miller’s Launch – 8:29 – 600 – C 4
- Lt. Michael Murphy – Scott Koen – 8:39 – 180 – C 5
Line Throw-
- Cheyenne 15 seconds
- Maurania III 16 seconds
- Susan Miller 18 seconds
Best Looking Tug- Mary H
Best Vintage Tug- Vulcan (1958)
Little Toot- The Bronx
Best Dressed- Meagan Ann (Pirates)
Best Tattoo- Meagan Ann (Multiple nautical tattoos)
Best Mascot- Maurania III (Chihuahua Maddie McAllister, wearing McAllister hat and
carried by small children)
Team Spirit (tie)- Miller’s Launch (3), Donjon Marine (3)
One of the big K-Sea boats arrived too late to compete.
Winners – Spinach Eating Contest
- Adult: Manny Rebelo (of tug Cornell)
- Child: Roland McAllister
Project Firebox 12
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Following Forgotten-NY’s Kevin Walsh around Bushwick one day, this very old firebox was observed.
It exhibited a couple of unique features, which even the great explorer and expert of these urban climes found puzzling. We shot photos, and moved on in search of certain locations rumored to have survived in the area unscathed by modernity, remnants of the German Brewers which once typified the population of this ancient section of Brooklyn.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Several days later, the normally steady and wholesome measure of Mr. Walsh’s correspondence took on a feverish tone when he reported that the network of antiquarians and recluse scholars with which he maintains communication had delivered to him a detailed description of the enigmatic firebox, with it’s embossed “H.P. TEL” on the crown and dated base.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It seems that when the fire system, pipe and pump wise, was first laid down in the early 20th century, technological infancy limited the number of streets that could be served by high pressure lines. Reserved for high rises, factories, and high density tenement blocks- the high pressure water common today was only available in certain areas. However, should the need arise, a fire chief carried a key that would access one of these “H.P. TEL” fireboxes which would send a command back to the firehouse to throw open the valves that would pressurize the lines flowing through its district.
The TEL stands for telegraph, apparently, and the whole scheme ceased to be necessary sometime in the 1950’s.
uncanny light
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Disillusioned, desolate, and diseased– the endless byways of the Newtown Pentacle beckon- calling out to me- the barren, the confused, the discarded.
Always, it seems, an Outsider must keep to the shadows. This is best.
Paranoid, absent minded, and an unreliable physical coward– the feckless quisling who serves as your humble narrator once more offers devotions and attention to a great pattern etched beneath the cement, marching across its sunlit reality like some obsequious pilgrim. Certain realities have been made abundantly clear over the vernal months, confirming specific fears and betraying closely held beliefs. A stalking horse walks my lands.
While lost in the above soliloquy one afternoon, I was walking from Astoria to South Street Seaport‘s Pier 17, when I found this scene in Long Island City.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Another crew of workmen were observed standing in a similar pit on the other side of the street- 23rd street, if you’re curious. My assumption was that they were feeding this copper tubing from one side of the street to the other, for some purpose of which I cannot hazard a guess. Perhaps the acolytes of that which does not think, or breathe, yet hungers; that thing which is rumored to exist in the crown of the nearby Citibank Megalith– desired to have a constant connection to the Court Square diner’s coffee station.
Who can guess, all there is… that might be down there?
The Newtown Pentacle 