Archive for the ‘Citi Building Megalith’ Category
raptured vision
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My habit is to be early to appointments, public meetings, or gatherings. On this particular day, a Newtown Creek Alliance meeting was set to occur in hoary Greenpoint at the modern Newtown Creek Wastewater Treatment Plant, and a humble narrator decided to make use of being better than an hour early by strolling through the engineered hillocks of First Calvary Cemetery here in Queens.
Late afternoon was giving way to sunset, and my path took me from the secondary gates near the former Penny Bridge toward the main entrance at Greenpoint Avenue.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Unlike many of my sojourns around the place, no goal governed my steps- I wasn’t “looking for someone”. Instead, a peaceful and contemplative mood governed my steps and allowance was made for serendipity. That’s the spire of St. Raphael’s on Greenpoint Avenue in the distance, by the way.
Amongst the marble and granite, however, a surprising monument was discovered.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Weathered and unmarked, this anonymous cruciform was found. Appearing to be a wooden cross with white bronze worked onto its surface, it was frankly a stunning moment for me to discover this artifact here. Partially because of its modest and quite staid appearance- understatement and tasteful discretion hardly define the monuments at Calvary- but mostly because of the incredible value that the metal would bring to the Crows (metal collectors and scrappers) who harvest such materials for sale to the scrap industry.
It was stunning to find such a thing can remain hidden in this place which has suffered so much from their attentions.
lashing waves
– 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.”
verdant valley
– 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?
hideous complexity
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Just a quickie today, a shot taken from some point in space which straddles the borderline of Brooklyn and Queens (although this one is slightly more in Brooklyn) taken from the Greenpoint Avenue Bridge. Apologies for the brevity, but a humble narrator is busy staggering across the boroughs today, and in the midst of preparing for a series of meetings and presentations. Be back tomorrow with something more substantial.
arduous detail
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On Friday the 13th of January, your humble narrator was drawn inextricably to the Newtown Creek Wastewater Treatment Plant’s Nature Walk. A friend, who is a faculty member of a CUNY institution familiar to all residents of Queens, had reported that she (and her students) had witnessed an extant slick of petroleum product while at the location.
So, despite inclement weather and biting cold, your humble narrator crossed the Pulaski from Queens to infinite Brooklyn to investigate.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Just to be clear, the NCWWTP (oft referred to as the Temple of Cloacina) has nothing to do with petroleum. The mission of this futurist facility deals with a sticky black substance of entirely manmade origin, its collection and eventual disposition, but definitively not petroleum.
The Nature Walk, which is the subject of ironic humor and contextual mirth for many, is a lovely amenity required by the City’s “1% for art” rules. Designed by architect George Trakas, the NCWWTP Nature Walk offers panoramic views and public access to the nation’s most polluted waterway, and provides an island of calm for a section of Greenpoint sorely lacking in open space.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My friend, as mentioned, serves as a faculty member at the CUNY institution in Queens. For several years, she has been conducted a census and study of the micro organisms which find themselves swept into Newtown Creek on the shallow tide offered by the estuarine East River. Her findings are surprising, as observation and scientific method has revealed that a startling diversity of life somehow finds a way to organize and sustain their existence in the troubled waterway.
Pictured above are the “steps” at the Nature Walk during happier times.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Witnessed on this day in January were the tell tale leave behinds of the event, painted upon the self same steps illustrated in the shot above. Eyewitness description and anecdotal memories described the slick as both viscous and opaque, and occupying no small acreage of water.
Reports of floating “tar balls” accompany the tale of the slick, which was described as moving eastward- up the creek- with the rising tide from the East River.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As a note, the tidal action of the surrounding waters doesn’t really flow into the Newtown Creek so much as it forces the waterway to rise and fall in a vertical rather than lateral manner. This why the sedimentary process along the Creek is so onerous, as there is no “flushing action”.
Once something enters the Newtown Creek, it never leaves.
The Newtown Pentacle 