Archive for the ‘Blissville’ Category
licensed guide
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Visiting with the Alsops, your humble narrator finds fancy in the notion that he is sitting in a place which is theoretically unique upon this earth.
A Protestant graveyard which dates back to the days of the Dutch colonial decadence, The Alsop plot is entirely enveloped by the coils of First Calvary Cemetery, which is a Catholic institution. Modern minds forgot the fires of the Reformation, wherein our modern world of the west was forged, but such mingling of creeds still draws ire and derision from the faithful.
While in Calvary, and when the light is right, one makes an effort to photograph these centuried stone markers.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Lost in my pursuits, sudden realization that I wasn’t alone washed over. One of the famed Groundling Burrowers appeared. The Lagomorphs are famed as messengers between the underworld and our own, and often have I consulted with this oracular population that exists within Laurel Hill. No question burned in my mind, as before, and I wondered what it had come to tell me.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Stoic, the beast gave no indication.
It fixed me with an unblinking glassy stare. A blossom of terror unfolded in me, becoming a yawning maelstrom of chaos- of the sort described by Poe himself- which threatened to consume my very mind and plunge me into that dark blessing which is the ignorance engendered by madness.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Monstrous silence crushed down upon me, and this thing which had grown haughty and mature in some subterranean pocket of the cemetery continued to glare. The hidden paths known only to its kind, leading to unguessable sorts of ghoulish destinations and nitre choked cathedrals of sorrow below ground, carry these Groundling Burrowers into contact with that which cannot possibly exist down there and broad is their experience.
The beast twitched its ear to the east, and then I drossly noticed what it wanted me to see.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A stone monument, buried except for a small patch of its face. Had the Burrowers purposefully excavated a section, hoping it would be noticed by Grounds Staff or idle passerby?
The creature bounded off, disappearing into a thicket of grass following the fence which cordons off the Alsop ground from the larger cemetery surrounding it.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The visible section of the exposed monument says Richard Alsop, aged 1 month.
The Alsops engaged in an annoying multigenerational habit- the naming all of their male children Richard or Thomas- which confuses me. According to the Alsop genealogy folks a Richard Alsop aged 1 month died and was buried here in an interval between seven year old Hannah and a four year old also named Richard- that would correspond to a period sometime between 1772 and 1777.
Thanks Mr. Rabbit, you Groundling Burrower you.
Also:
Remember that event in the fall which got cancelled due to Hurricane Sandy?
The “Up the Creek” Magic Lantern Show presented by the Obscura Society NYC is back on at Observatory.
Click here or the image below for more information and tickets.
tower flanked
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Having an afternoon off, and desiring to stretch ones legs, your humble narrator soon found himself in familiar locale- First Calvary Cemetery in Queens.
There are are four properties which comprise Calvary, the original occupies a hill called Laurel, and was founded in 1848 by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of New York. The combined properties host better than three million interments, making it the most densely populated cemetery on the planet. One often witnesses things there that most would describe as “odd”.
On this particular day, I noticed a trail of disturbed earth.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It seemed as if some enormous slug like “thing” had pulled itself along, tearing out the turf as it convulsed and contracted and slithered. My first instinct was that whatever it was, it probably secreted acid from its skin, which is why the grass was so thoroughly scrubbed away.
Great size was suggested not just by the size of its trail but by a several inches deep disturbance of the soil.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The thing would have had to been enormous, a giant even by the scale of earlier aeons. Always fragile when confronted with strong emotions and unexpected stimuli, my brain began to throb with panic. Would… could such a creature, exist here?
Then a synaptic leap was accomplished, and remembered was the proximity of the nearby Newtown Creek- and the reportedly mutagenic qualities of its subaqueous sediments found nearby the Phelps Dodge site.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Close to experiencing “one of my states” at this point, my thoughts raced… could the organocoppers and volatile organic compounds known to exist in nearby waters have given rise to some sort of amphibious mutation of enormous size and unknown intent? Does some sort of blasphemous thing, a perverted and debased evolution of innocent sea life, rip its bulk from the protective depths and wander around the cemetery at night?
Would this explain the perennial existence of muddy streaks observed on the corner of Laurel Hill Blvd. and Review Avenue?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My delicate constitution, carefully balanced and maintained by a staff of doctors and medical professionals, demands that one remain reticent. This is when one of the curative tablets one has been commanded to always have at the ready was consumed, causing my heart to cease its racing action.
So steadied- an examination of my preposition, that an enormous slug like mutation born in a 20 foot thick layer of industrial waste and sewer sediment- the so called Black Mayonnaise- lining the bed of the Newtown Creek, might seem a bit far fetched.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
To be fair, there is evidence that Phelps Dodge supplied refined materials for the Manhattan Project- specifically Tellerium- which would introduce radioactivity into the story. I can tell you categorically that in all the meetings I’ve attended concerning the Newtown Creek, and in all the scientific literature I’ve read about the place- not once have I heard or read about radioactivity (in the water).
There is no truth to the rumors common in Maspeth regarding a huge snapping turtle that rose from Newtown Creek and terrorized the community for an entire summer in the early 1950’s either, I am told.
Oddly enough, every time I meet somebody who works in government, the first thing they’ll say to me is: “There is no truth to the rumors common in Maspeth regarding a huge snapping turtle found there in the summer of 1954.”
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This track way is clearly not that of a snapping turtle, I would mention.
There would be distinct foot prints, as well as a defined pattern shaped by the tail.
It would be ridiculous to even suggest that this was the track left behind by an enormous snapping turtle of the sort rumored to have caused the death of several dogs and one mule in Maspeth during 1954, a situation which afflicted the community from the early spring and which only ended after a singular night, in August, which set the tongues of area wags wagging. The sudden appearance and deployment of several Army units accompanied by hundreds of Plain Clothes Police to the industrial quarters nearby the Haberman siding, which was explained away as a raid on illicit liquor racketeers who were operating in the area, is rumored to have put an end to the so called “Monster in Maspeth.”
None of which actually happened, I am repeatedly told.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Following the gouged trail, it suddenly became apparent that an apparently orthodox and certainly more ordinary explanation for the disturbed earth at Calvary Cemetery was at hand.
It appeared that vehicle tracks were visible at the upland section of it, and no doubt they were either cleverly trying to disguise the risible horror of some wandering slug like mutation risen from Newtown Creek to wander the graveyard in the dead of night, or that the gouged turf of the track was instead some part of their grounds keeping function.
It is up to you, lords and ladies, to decide which theorem is likely true.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
You never know what you’re going to see at Calvary Cemetery, amongst the emerald devastations.
Also:
Remember that event in the fall which got cancelled due to Hurricane Sandy?
The “Up the Creek” Magic Lantern Show presented by the Obscura Society NYC is back on at Observatory.
Click here or the image below for more information and tickets.
closer point
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Witness, if you dare, the estimable Anthony L. Miller workboat conducting the employees and contractors of the Federal Environmental Protection Agency across the languid waters of the Newtown Creek. The workboat designation is apt, as this small vessel maintained and operated by the always busy Millers Launch company on Staten Island is purpose driven.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Workboat is a fairly broad class of commercial vessel designation. Omnivorous, these boats will sometimes be utilized to ferry a relief crew or supplies to a waiting vessel. Other times, it will be engaged as a platform from which to conduct and facilitate the designs of a contract charter. Too small for anything but rudimentary towing, these workboats can be seen all over the harbor.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Technically, Anthony L. Miller is a 32 foot “Utility Boom Boat” possessed of a 420 HP engine. It is equipped with a tow bit, is water jet-propelled, has shallow water capabilities, has a davit with electric winch, and an enclosed heated cabin. It has a top speed of 25 knots, and an aluminum hull. A hearty Maritime Sunday shout out is sent to its cast and crew.
perils exhorted
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It has been discussed so often here that it is depressing to actually bring it up again, but your humble narrator absolutely detests this time of the year. Miserable vulnerabilities to cold wreak havoc upon an already weakened constitution, and the diminished availability of light emanating from the burning thermonuclear eye of god itself during these months cause me nothing but misery and consternation. In short, I hate the winter, and it sort of figures that the world will cease to be on precisely the date when the winter solstice occurs and the days begin to grow longer.
Mayan Apocalypse Countdown: just 10 days left until the 13th b’ak’tun ends, initiating the Mayan Apocalypse on December 21st. Tick, tock.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Wandering about in the wastelands surrounding the Newtown Creek and its tributaries normally bring me a sort of solace, but of late, not so much. It is painful to know so much about a subject that you actually have no one to chat with about it. More and more, I think about my friend Bernie Ente, and his loss grows ever more profound. He is dearly missed.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The good news is that the excess time I am cursed with is being put to some use. A schedule of 2013 tours and events is being hammered out and negotiated as you read this, and there are quite a few interesting things on the horizon. There will be two completely new Newtown Creek walking tours, as well as an updated “Magic Lantern” lecture and slideshow. Additionally, discussions about new opportunities out on the harbor are starting as well. Just have to make it through to the spring in one piece…
Tales of Calvary 13- The Callahan monument
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It’s the fifth of December, a date which the pagans once called Faunalia. In 1945, Flight 19 disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle, and we only have to wait 16 more days for the Mayan Apocalypse to occur.
Why not spend the day in Section 6?
Cornelius Callahan and his family are represented by an enigmatic monument at Calvary Cemetery, here in western Queens, which is remarkable not just for sheer size but for workmanship and design as well. Callahan was chairman of the building committee for the Catholic Archdiocese, and was credited with being instrumental to the building of the orphan asylums in Kingsbridge by Archbishop Farley himself. He died on June 8, 1911.
You can read his obituary at the nytimes, click through and scroll down to the bottom left of the page.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It should be mentioned that this monument is the sculptural capstone of a family crypt. In addition to Cornelius, his wife(s), sister, daughter and apparently a pet named Emma are buried beneath this block of carved stone. Daughter Katie M. Callahan was meant to inherit the paternal fortune, provided she bear offspring, but unfortunately she left this mortal coil before her father. The story of the execution of the will has survived the passage of 101 years.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The will Cornelius left behind stipulated that his properties be sold off and the proceeds divided amongst several individuals but the primary beneficiary was the Archdiocese itself. Records of a lawsuit persist in the historic record which state that the Church and other heirs would have preferred the deed to the midtown Manhattan properties rather than the cash, but a judge ruled in favor of Cornelius’s estate and Mr. Callahan’s stated wishes. Even 101 years ago, retaining Manhattan Real Estate was seen as a better investment than selling it, I guess.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A good amount of looking around revealed little else about the Callahans, although they were obviously people of high station and attainment. Cornelius, as stated above, was the chair of the Building Committee for the Archdiocese of New York during a historical period when it was at its nadir- politically and financially speaking. This was an era of church building, parochial campus expansion, and an age when the Irish (in particular) ruled over the City. Mr. Callahan would have overseen a small army of construction workers, suppliers, and itinerant laborers in his professional capacity.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
You never know who you might run across at Calvary Cemetery. The Original Gangster, a King of Ireland, the Abbot, or even the Newsboy Governor. This is where Tammany Hall lies, dreaming but not dead, alongside those huddled masses who legendarily yearned to breathe free. Wandering its emerald devastations, one can barely hope to comprehend the transmogrification accomplished by those interred here. They found a city of two and three story wooden buildings, and within a generation or two, altered it into the heroic shape of modern day New York City.
Have a happy Faunalia, lords and ladies, and embrace your loved ones, for the Mayan Apocalypse draws nigh.
The Newtown Pentacle 