The Newtown Pentacle

Altissima quaeque flumina minimo sono labi

Archive for the ‘kosciuszko bridge’ Category

curiously dissociated

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– photo by Mitch Waxman

One presumes that it is merely part of the human condition to remember the bad rather than the good. War and the concurrent homefront is reminisced upon fondly, whereas peaceful spans are oft forgotten. Economic downturn, sickness and loss, even the Black Death are considered romantic. Pity abounds for the reputation of a place like Blissville, once a thriving bucolic community, which is remembered today as one of the darkest sections of the fabled Newtown Creek.

from wikipedia

Blissville is a neighborhood within Long Island City, in the New York City borough of Queens. It is bordered by Calvary Cemetery to the east; the Long Island Expressway to the north; Newtown Creek to the south; and Dutch Kills, a tributary of Newtown Creek, to the west. Blissville was named after Neziah Bliss, who owned most of the land in the 1830s and 1840s.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Named for Neziah Bliss who -with Eliaphet Nott- founded the community in the early 19th century, Blissville was once what we would call “affordable housing” for the laborers of Newtown Creek. Sure, there were Europeans here since the 1600’s- in Maspeth and Hunters Point and in Brooklyn- but it wasn’t until the period right around the Civil War that things really kicked into gear around here.

from 1921’s Brooklyn Daily Eagle Almanac, Volume 36 – courtesy google books

NEWTOWN CREEK. Although less than four miles from its source, among the oil refineries of Blissville and Greenpoint, L. I., to ita mouth at the East River, Newtown Creek ia known as one of the “world’s busiest waterways.” The Mississippi River, from New Orleans to St. Paul, ia 1,” miles In length and flows through a great industrial and agricultural district. Recent figures show that 5,220,000 tons of cargo are carried annually on the upper and lower reaches of the longest river In the world, while the annual average of tonnage carried on the little four-mile Newtown Creek was 5,620,000.

Note: the bolded character in the quotation above resolves to something like 1,000 miles. the Mississippi has been significantly altered over the years.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

A chance encounter with a local historian of some note resulted in a critique of recent statements made by your humble narrator on this subject, (asserting that industry arrived here in force during the 1870’s) and he reminded me that there were industrial concerns operating in the area far earlier than even the arrival of Neziah Bliss. Tidal Grist mills, Lumber Yards, and the like were in these parts before the American Revolution, I will concede, and it is true that General Chemical, and M. Kalbfleish &Sons, and Peter Coopers Glue Factory were all well established along the Creek by 1840- all of which were early examples of the so called “Second Industrial Revolution” kicking into gear- it all depends on what you mean by “industry”.

from 1876’s Our dumb animals, Volumes 9-14 – courtesy google books

…an account of a visit of Mr. Bergh to certain stables attached to the distillery of Gaff, Fleischman & Co., at a place singularly named Blissville, on Long Island. Within the enclosure he found three immense stables, containing about nine hundred cows There was not a single door or window open, and the tainted atmosphere arrested the progress of all present Many cows were lying down, but the insufficient space necessitated their partly resting on one another. Dr. Raymond, Sanitary Superintendent of Brooklyn, says: “These animals never leave the stables, until, giving no more milk, and being- ‘ fattened,’ they are driven to the slaughter-house, contributing during life to the propagation of disease through their milk, robbing the inlant of its sole chance of life; and, alter death, furnishing diseased meat to nil consumers.”

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Master, apprentice, journeyman, mechanic- all of these terms had far different meaning in the past than they do today. So did the term “industrial”. Before the rail came through, and by rail I mean the Long Island Railroad- operations around the Creek were necessarily small. An employer of a hundred working men in 1800 would have been a tycoon, and the “factory” would have been no larger than a modern day primary school, and even then only the largest and most successful companies would have been so comfortably ensconced. After the rail came, something like Phelps Dodge or the Standard Oil works became possible- vast complexes of multi story structures, connected by rail tracks with bulkheaded docks, and chimneys belching smoke six to seven stories above the ground.

from 1879’s The Analyst, Volume 4 – courtesy google books

Sir,—In the month of February I made an official inspection of some cow stables, at a place called Blissville, on Long Island, which were connected with a distillery. Thinking that my investigations at that time might prove of some interest to yourself and other Public Analysts, I tako the liberty of writing you upon the subject.

At the time of my visit to the above stables there were between 700 and 800 cows in them, crowded into narrow stalls, to which they were fastened by a rope not more than three feet in length, which barely permitted them to lie down, but kept their mouths continually at a trough into which flowed the “swill” from the adjacent distillery in a steaming and fermenting condition.

Most of the animals were emaciated and feverish, and were affected with cough, diarrhoea, and polyuria. Some appeared to have recently arrived, and were in good condition. The temperature of several of the animals was noted, and ranged from 102° to 109°. The stable floors were kept all the time wet and slippery with excrementitious matters, and I did not see how it was possible for the cows to be milked and prevent the surrounding filth from splashing into the milk.

These poor creatures, crowded together within low sheds, with insufficient food, imperfect or no moans of ventilation, no exercise, no pure water to drink, and breathing an atmosphere poisoned by the exhalations from their wretched bodies, their excretions, and the steaming and fermented food, are expected, under these conditions, to secrete milk fit for human consumption.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

The vast populations of the five great cities around the Creek- Williamsburg, Greenpoint, Maspeth, Hunters Point, and New York- were made possible by the vast industrial mills which arrived in the middle and latter half of the 19th century. Those self same mills are what ended up staining the reputation of Blissville in the historic record. Any attempt to describe its homes, schools, and churches is overshadowed by the tales of pneumatic cattle, wormy pigs, bad air, and mountains of rotting offal. Pity poor Blissville, a place whose name brings a wry and ironic smile to the face of modern visitors. It was once a beautiful place to live.

from 1884’s Annual report of the State Board of Health of New York – courtesy google books

The stench nuisance next in the series along the main trunk of the Long Island railroad consists of and is located at and near the old distillery and yeast factory recently known as Gaff & Fleischmann’s, and now controlled by an ownership and superintendent mentioned in the inspector’s list. It has long been an insufferable nuisance because of the “swill-like odor of the mash,” and still more, because of the fact that the cattle stables on the right alongside the railroad track are reeking with semi-liquid filth (see page 12 of report marked C).

The next in the series is Preston’s bone-boiling, bone-burning and fertilizer establishment where the “web scrap,” horse-flesh, entrails and other putrescent matters from numerous fat rendering factories are stored in great quantities, and where bones and refuse flesh and waste “clippings” from the markets and elsewhere are boiled in kettles that are not kept suitably covered, which necessarily pollute the atmosphere to a considerable extent beyond the premises, which are located close along the south side of the Long Island railroad track. The business of calcining the bones obtained in the business just mentioned, and from other sources, is carried on at Preston’s factory, and is a source of very offensive stenches which extend along the line of the railroad for half a mile or more. This factory being a branch of the fertilizer factory owned by the same persons and situated near Keyport, N. J., much of the storage as well as mixing of materials for the latter establishment is carried on at this place in Blissville, and at times is the source of exceptional offensiveness.

Next is the place of John Kehoe, situated near Preston’s and the distillery above described. He boils fat in open kettles.

Reid’s fertilizer factory is next in order as we proceed eastward upon the north bank of Newtown creek. Superphosphate fertilizer is made by the use of sulphuric acid upon scrap and the phosphate rock of South Carolina.

Though the offensive odor does not extend a great distance, and probably is offensive to only railway passengers and along the line of the railway, the business is too offensive to be long permitted to remain close by the side of a great highway like that of the Long Island railroad.
Next in the series is the bone boiling establishment of Fred. Hoffner, who works with open kettles, giving off excessively offensive stenches.

Simon Steinfel’s rendering establishment, which is on Furman’s island in Newtown creek (and within the limits of Newtown), gives off very offensive emanations for a long distance in the course of the railway route. Great quantities of decomposing animal matters were found upon the premises in barrels and otherwise packed in readiness for rendering.

constantly consulting

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– photo by Mitch Waxman

Gilman, Gilman, Gilman.

Idiotic, your humble narrator cannot break loose of the compulsion which drives me toward destruction, which will be the result of locating a certain grave amongst Calvary Cemetery’s emerald devastations. Weak of will and enslaved by fevered thoughts, once more do my feet fall upon a carpet of grass fed by a morbid nutrition, stumbling across and into the city of the dead. On the subject at hand, which is the attempt to locate a tiny needle in a gigantic hay stack- a needle not even certain to still exist in this age- let’s recap:

As mentioned in the post “Searching for Gilman“:

“Somewhere in the viridian depths of Calvary Cemetery lies an unremarked merchant from Massachusetts, who died in an accident along the delirious Newtown Creek in 1931. No obituary I can find discusses him, and Gilman slid unnoticed into the hallowed loam of Calvary’s charitable sections. His anonymity came to an end when, according to neighborhood sources and contemporary diarists, a relict 3 masted schooner arrived at the Penny Bridge docks and ordered an eccentric monument be erected on Gilman’s resting place. The captain of that black ship, a leathery bastard named Marsh, collected Gilman’s belongings and sailed via Newtown Creek to the East River, turning North toward Hell Gate- ultimately disappearing into the mists of Long Island Sound heading for New England.”

from epa.gov

The first survey of Newtown Creek was completed by Dutch explorers in 1613-1614, and the Dutch acquired the area from the local Mespatches tribe shortly thereafter. Initially, the Newtown Creek area was used primarily for agriculture, but following the Revolutionary War, it became industrialized with glue and tin factories, rope works, tanneries, and the Sampson Oil Cloth Factory operating along Newtown Creek and its tributaries. There was a shift to shipbuilding in the Pre-Civil War Period. Following the Civil War, textile manufacturing and oil refining replaced shipbuilding along Newtown Creek and its tributaries.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

It has been established, circumstantially, that the accident which claimed Gilman was definitively in Blissville, and happened westward of Penny Bridge but east of the Greenpoint Avenue crossing. Additionally, disturbing intonations that the packs of feral dogs which were contemporaneously described as endemic to the area avoided the cadaver, but that the local rodent population did not find itself constrained from feasting.

from the posting “A World Yet Inchoate“:

“Enigma, my search for the elusive final resting place of the Massachusetts based dealer in far eastern art has taken me to distant and forgotten sections of the City of Greater New York. I have consulted with asiatic mystics in Manhattan’s Chinatown, visited a heretical Kabbalist in Brooklyn, and have drawn the ire of certain extant allies of the dead man whose influence and reach extend into the federal government and modernity itself who wish me to remain silent on the subject.”

from 1892’s History of the Catholic Church in the United States, By John Gilmary Shea – courtesy google books

The burial place for the Catholic dead of the great city now required, apparently, a vast extent of ground. The little plot around St. Peter’s Church had been the first, but a nook in Trinity Church yard held, and still holds, some Catholic dead. Then the ground around St. Patrick’s Cathedral was used, and in time a cemetery was purchased on Eleventh Street. These had all proved insufficient. Bishop Hughes looked beyond the limits of the city for a spot not likely to be reached for many years by the rapid growth of population, yet comparatively easy of access. Thirty acres of the Alsop farm, on Newtown Creek, Long Island, were purchased, and the ground was solemnly blessed by Rt. Rev. Bishop Hughes, as Calvary Cemetery, July 27, 1848, and in a few days the first interment took place. The cemetery has been enlarged by subsequent purchases, till it now contains more than a hundred acres.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Problematic in locating even a general area to search within, for the obsequious and gauche monument which the eponymous Capt. Marsh installed within the cemetery in remembrance of the fallen Gilman would have been in one of the so called “poor sections” of the polyandrion. Imagine, the sheer volume of dead bodies shipped out from Manhattan in that era, reported at the time as nearly one hundred on an average day (and far higher in times of fever, plague, and riot). These poor, or charity, sections saw hundreds of interments per week. Could it be possible that the monument to Gilman actually adorned his own grave, or that it might somehow still exist within the walls of Calvary?

from the posting “marble glories

“Of course, this is a Roman Catholic cemetery, which suggests that the multitudes who lie here were sealed off- magickly- by the sacrament of “Extreme Unction” from suffering such macabre experiences as walking about the earth seeking living victims in some post mortem half life. The heritage of the Catholics extends back through time to the Dagon devotees of Syria and the tomb worshipping Etruscans, and the Romans spent enough time in Egypt and North Africa to have picked up and incorporated many of the Magicks they found into the syncretic system of beliefs and rites known as and inherited by modernity as Catholicism. The mysteries of the church are many, and varied, and more has been forgotten or lost over the centuries than any single lifetime can recover.”

from 1890’s HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES, By JACOB A. RIIS –courtesy google books

Life in the tenements in July and August spells death to an army of little ones whom the doctor’s skill is powerless to save. When the white badge of mourning flutters from every second door, sleepless mothers walk the streets in the gray of the early dawn, trying to stir a cooling breeze to fan the brow of the sick baby. There is no sadder sight than this patient devotion striving against fearfully hopeless odds. Fifty “summer doctors,” especially trained to this work, are then sent into the tenements by the Board of Health, with free advice and medicine for the poor. Devoted women follow in their track with care and nursing for the sick. Fresh-air excursions run daily out of New York on land and water; but despite all efforts the grave-diggers in Calvary work over-time, and little coffins are stacked mountain – high on the deck of the Charity Commissioners’ boat when it makes its semi-weekly trips to the city cemetery.

habitual secretiveness

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– photo by Mitch Waxman

DUKBO, on the Brooklyn side of that parable laden river of urban neglect called the Newtown Creek, is an industrial zone which most New Yorkers wouldn’t want to acknowledge ownership of. The particular stretch which is focused on today is not long for this world, as the replacement of the Kosciuszko Bridge will obliterate these streets from the map when construction begins in 2014.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Owing to the impermanence of this area, and the certain doom it will enjoy, your humble narrator has been making it a point to divert my path into its shadowed corridors and record what might exist here. As mentioned to many, one of the goals of this- your Newtown Pentacle- is to leave behind some sort of record of what the Creeklands were before the massive changes wrought by Superfund, the Kosciuszko Bridge replacement, and all the other mega projects planned for the area begin.

It is, in my opinion, important to have the realities of this place reported on by a source not affiliated with commercial or governmental interests, and to allow some future researcher to witness the inheritances of the past as they were at the start of this century. The paucity of documentation about Newtown Creek at the start of the 20th century are a major impediment to studying its history.

That’s my “elevator speech”, by the way.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Of course, the specific focus of today’s posting has little to do with history, rather it’s the utter immolation suffered by this vehicle (refer to a Newtown Pentacle post of January 4, 2012 titled “Old School 2” for context). It seems that DUKBO continues to be a great place to ditch an unwanted vehicle, and the complete destruction of this automobile speaks to a considerable interval between ignition and the intervention of the NYFD.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

That’s an assumption, by the way, based on the absolute destruction of the vehicle interior. The absence of doors, engine hood, and other usual amenities found on modern cars (not present lying in some heap on the sidewalk) suggests that the vehicle was probably stripped, abandoned, and torched- but that is another assumption. Both of these are wide interpretations born of having grown up in South Brooklyn during the 1980’s, a time when an epidemic of car thefts and vehicular arson ran rampant and vehicles in similar condition would regularly be encountered along the Belt Parkway and its service roads.

Kids in my neighborhood became very familiar with the difference between “an accident” and an “on purpose”.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Can’t blame NYFD for not getting to it in time for anything else than extinguishing the husk, as this is the middle of nowhere and residential housing is quite distant in any direction. At night, this a ghost town, with shuttered businesses and truck lots, and little or no traffic. Who can guess what transpires here, in the dead of night amidst the darkness of DUKBO?

– photo by Mitch Waxman

If you’re missing what looks like a mid size SUV or perhaps a minivan, this corner in DUKBO seems to be a great place to start looking for what remains of it.

verdant valley

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– photo by Mitch Waxman

While preparing the slideshow which was recently presented at the Ridgewood Democratic Club, which is one of two updated versions of the thing (differing lengths), I’ve been churning the content waters deeply. One of the little collections of images which I pulled together was called “Kosciuszko Bridge”.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

For awhile now, special attention has been paid to this decaying structure, due to those plans held by State employees and agencies to replace it with a modern bridge designed to overcome many of the flaws exhibited by the 1939 era “Meeker Avenue Bridge” – which was later renamed as the Kosciuszko Bridge in 1940.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

It’s a lumbering and brutish design, inelegant, undistinguished, and strictly utilitarian. Which sort of makes sense given its construction during the latter half of the Great Depression.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Literally, and figuratively, this is Down Under the Kosciuszko Bridge Onramp, DUKBO. This is on the Brooklyn side, incidentally.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

This post isn’t intended to carry any deep insight or reveal some historical truth. To confess, I’m showboating a bit today, and featuring something that won’t be here too much longer.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

One thing you will notice in these shots is the horrific amount of corrosion which the bridge displays. This is, of course, why the State plans on replacing it in a few years time.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Naked, the bridge shows the lines of force which it’s engineered around, and for a structure that carries something like 200,000 vehicle crossings a day- that’s a lot of force. The Kosciuszko Bridge trusses are just so damned ugly about it, unlike the graceful curvilinear shaping of the Hellgate or Bayonne arches.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

The reason it’s so high, around 150 feet of clearance at low water, is that ocean going ships used to come all the way back here. Not sail, although that was a consideration in 1939, but the smokestacks of ocean liners were what it was flung into the sky to accommodate.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Sliding over to the Queens bank, where the piles are driven into compacted mud and sand instead of bedrock, the legs of the bridge straddle the former home of Phelps Dodge. The neighborhood around these parts formed the border between the villages of Berlin and Blissville.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

From what I’ve been told, the former Phelps Dodge site is in private hands, but parts of it will house the new bridge which will replace the 1939 model. From the planning statements I’ve read, the new Kosciuszko Bridge won’t be quite so high.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

It seems that the needs of the trucking industry will be acknowledged in the design of the onramps, which will not present quite as steep a grade to the angle of their approaches. I’ll miss the scale of the current bridge, I fear.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Like the nearby Megalith at Court Square in Long Island City, the Kosciuszko Bridge provides a geographical frame of reference for miles around. The only other bridges of sufficient scale to provide such service span the East River or provide connection to… Staten Island…

– photo by Mitch Waxman

The Kosciuszko Bridge, on the Queens side, follows the shallow valley between Laurel and Berlin Hills, both of which are graded down shadows of their former selves. There must have been dense woods here once, bisected by a shallow stream that fed into the Newtown Creek.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

The Maespetche Indians who lived here were mostly wiped out by Smallpox by the 1700’s, and by that time the Dutch had already established a few homesteads here. When the English arrived, often overland from Eastern Long Island, they mocked the degenerate Dutch with their old fashioned customs and bizarre beliefs.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

The English had plenty of controversies in this area themselves, with the bizarre adherents of the “Friends” cult showing up time and again from New England via the Long Island Sound, the presence of accused witches, and all sorts of odd religious experimentation by commoner and courtier alike going on.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

All that sort of nonsense ended in the early 1800’s, when the post revolutionary industrial boom got started here in DUKBO. General Chemical came in the 1840’s, and joined with the distilleries and fat renderers who had been here for years to participate in what we would call “the industrial revolution”.

Things really kicked into gear when the Long Island Railroad laid down track in the 1860’s and 70’s.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Of course, in 1848, Dagger John Hughes buried Esther Ennis and consecrated Calvary Cemetery as the official burying ground of the Roman Catholic Church. Construction of the cemetery on Laurel Hill was largely finished by the late 1850’s, which removed approximately 360 million tons of topsoil from the hill and installed an enormous drainage system within it to dry the swampy land.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

In the 1890’s, there were still homes and saloons, schools and churches here. Calvary grew by land acquisition and donation, and industrial pursuits rendered the whole area around these parts a smoky, soot stained mess.

And then, there was the smell.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

The smell is legendary in the historical record, it seems that it’s all that the riders of the Long Island Railroad could talk about. Health Department records preserve complaints presented by residents of Manhattan who opined that the stink actually extended all the way to Turtle Bay (approximately 34th street).

– photo by Mitch Waxman

All that is gone now, although on humid days after heavy rains, the stink is still more than just a memory.

As are the chemicals in the ground and water which all that industrial growth left behind for the future.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Definitely. I’m going to miss the big K when it’s gone, wonder what interesting things will be found in DUKBO when the shovels hit the dirt.

After all- who can guess, all there is, that might be buried down there?

demoniac alteration

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– photo by Mitch Waxman

Fiery concatenation and syncopated horror haunt my steps whenever visting DUKBO.

Sarcastic and conceit laden, the label I give to this place is nevertheless apropos, for it is very much Down Under the Kosciuszko Bridge Onramp.

Welcome to DUKBO on the Brooklyn side of Newtown Creek- beneath the thrice damned Kosciuszko Bridge. It’s the sort of place which might best be described as either an “M1 industrial zone” or as a “literal hell on earth”.

Either way, it has been like this around here since around the Civil War.

from Harper’s weekly, Volume 38, 1894- courtesy Google books

AN INSALUBRIOUS VALLEY.

The city of Brooklyn, having purged itself of the malodorous political institutions that were so long a blot upon its southern border, might well turn its attention to some nuisances of a more literally malodorous kind that flourish along its northern border, a detailed description of which will be found in another column of the Weekly’. It appears that in an early day the valley of Newtown Creek, which is the boundary between Kings and Queens counties, was selected by various manufacturers as an eligible site for the location of factories. The location was then far on the outskirts of the city, and no doubt quite unobjectionable. A great variety of institutions were set iu operation here, including those useful and necessary but unpleasant factories whose purpose it is to transform the animal refuse of a city into merchantable produce. The gases generated by these factories had an odor almost unendurable, as any one can testify who was accustomed to travel on the Long Island Railroad from the Thirty-fourth Street ferry in years gone by.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Elucidating on J. Rosenberg’s “model tallow rendering factory”, or the infamous Night Soil Dock of Conrad Wissell, or the extant nightmares of the Kings County Chemical works would be superfluous if describing the 19th century industries located on either side of the Newtown Creek as “dirty”.

They were good guys, who at least attempted to reform their industrial practices. It was the smaller operators in the distillery and fat rendering trades who were truly vile, at least according to the historical record.

Describing the transport and storage of rotting butchers scrap, animal waste, rotten eggs, and dead horses- all of which sat stinking in the summer sun while waiting to be weighed by the rendering plant bosses- or envisioning the attendant plagues of insect and rodentine vermin which followed these redolent piles (whose numbers were checked only by the acid rain and those environmental calamities which were caused by unregulated petroleum and chemical interests) from points all over the cities of Brooklyn, Long Island City, and New York would surely be a form of macabre and historical pornography.

However, that’s what the businesses here used as raw materials.

from The Sanitary Era, Volume 1, 1887, courtesy google books

Newtown Creek — No city in the Union has so foul a pest hole at its boundaries as Brooklyn. The sludge acid discharged from the works of the Standard Oil Company seems to possess an ominous potency for stirring up the sewage in the creek, and its black and thickened current seethes with bubbles of sulphuretted hydrogen. The shores, banked with this acid and with nameless filth, empoison the atmosphere at low water, while every rising tide seems to free a new supply of sludge. When to the oil industry is added the manufacture of fertilizers and a plenitude of pigs along Queens County shore, the sources of supply for a great nuisance or a grievous plague are discernible to all but official eyes and nostrils. Newtown Creek should be filled up, though not with sludge acid, and the nuisance makers removed to a distance. Our, Health Commissioner is authority for the statement that “You might as well try to fight the devil as the Standard Oil Company.”

– photo by Mitch Waxman

There have always been jobs here, the sort of jobs which those who cannot find employment in conventional occupations covet. Topical observation of the area reveals the modern presence of scrap yards, abattoirs, warehouse and trucking concerns, and light manufacturing facilities. Of course, the gargantuan National Grid property is nearby, but that’s a horse of a different shade.

There are a LOT of scrap yards in this little slice, this angle between the neighborhoods of Greenpoint and East Williamsburg, which creates a concentrating point for heavy metals. Of course, this is still preferable to the lagoons of sludge acid and animal waste which distinguished the place 100 years ago.

from The City record, Volume 6, Part 4, 1878, courtesy google books

Newtown Creek for many years has been a source of nuisance. It receives the contents of several of the large sewers ot Brooklyn. From above Penny Bridge to the East river are factories of various descriptions, oil refiners, fat inciters, gut cleaners, distilleries, car stables, super-phosphate factories, ammonia works, varnish works, and last, but not least, immense piles of stable manure, stored for future shipment, the refuse from all of which runs into the creek, and polluting the waters to such an extent as to have killed all the fish.

At low tide acres of land, covered to the depth of several inches with fat, the refuse of the oil-stills, are exposed. At high tide the oily portion of this refuse floats on the surface of the water, still giving forth its characteristic tarry odor. To add to this, many oil works, when the storage tanks are full, run their waste alkali and even their sludge-acid into the creek; in the latter case giving rise to the well known sludge smell.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Faceless, those who labor here find themselves stained with “the colour”, an iridescent sheen permeating the Creeklands that no known detergent can easily remove. These laborers are exposed to precipitate from the endless truck and automotive traffic passing by on the highway and bridge above, a dusty particulate rises from tire shattered roadways, and the very air they breathe is a poisonous fume of industrial chemicals and spent fuel. Live poultry concerns, some quite large, maintain depots here as well. The birds, like the workers, quickly display the colour.

This colour is like no earthly hue, rather it is like something from out of space, and a stark contrast to the Shining City of the western horizon just a few miles away.

from nytimes.com

THE NUISANCES MUST GO; Gov. Flower Says that Newtown Creek Must Be Purified. FIVE FACTORIES ORDERED CLOSED Private Business Not to be Allowed to Jeopardize the Health of Brooklyn and Long Island City