The Newtown Pentacle

Altissima quaeque flumina minimo sono labi

Archive for the ‘DUPBO’ Category

nighted secrets

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– photo by Mitch Waxman

This has been one crazily busy few days for your humble narrator, and frankly- I’m a nervous wreck.

Tonight, the Metropolitan Waterfront Alliance will be hosting the “Heroes of the Harbor” soiree at Pier 61 on the Hudson River at 6 p.m.- that’s Chelsea Piers for those unfamiliar with the demarcation of Manhattan’s surviving docks.

The MWA will be presenting the “Parade of Boats” at sunset, which will include (amongst others) the FDNY’s bon vivant “Three Forty Three” Fireboat. I’ll be there attempting to photograph the show.

Additionally, I remind you of the announcement made late Friday afternoon about the Working Harbor Committee and Newtown Creek Alliance produced boat tours of Newtown Creek on October 23rd which I will also be participating in. Tickets sales are flying, so order yours today.

“Join me on two Newtown Creek boat tours, both on October 23rd, 2011. I’ll be your tour guide, narrating humbly.

These tours are the co production of the Working Harbor Committee and the Newtown Creek Alliance made possible by funding from the NYCEF Newtown Creek Fund of the Hudson River Foundation. Accordingly, the tours will be heavily discounted, and tickets will cost only $10.

Click here for tickets

Made possible by funding from the NYCEF Newtown Creek Fund of the Hudson River Foundation”

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Inadvertently, your humble narrator caused some confusion with that aforementioned post from Friday afternoon when a draft version was published which listed the wrong date and time for the two tours, and apologies are offered. Thanks are offered to the many sharp eyed readers of this, your Newtown Pentacle, who immediately let me know that an error had been published.

I long for the days of winter at this point, when solitary communion with my beloved Creeklands can be embraced again.

Oh, to fly with the night gaunts over the concrete desolations and haunt the rolling hillocks of Newtown once more …

So speaks the contemplative mood experienced by your humble narrator today…

– photo by Mitch Waxman

For those of you new to my little world- here’s how this whole thing got started:

Several years ago, after a serious illness brought on by a slothful and overly indulgent lifestyle, my staff of doctors had prescribed exercise and wholesome activity as a curative. They told me to run, but having grown up in Brooklyn- I only run when someone of something is chasing me- so I began to walk. A shabby and defeated man in a filthy black raincoat, camera in hand, reduced to walking the earth in the manner of a mendicant. Vastly inferior to others, and perhaps the worst of men, I am an unpleasant fellow given to tidal fluctuations of mood and temperament which cause me to display an uncompromising face to all. Accordingly, the world had crumpled me up and thrown me away like so much refuse. I put away childish things, and disappeared into the wastelands of western Queens.

Like every other discarded piece of wind strewn trash casually thrown away in the city of New York, I eventually turned up at the Newtown Creek. The emerald devastations of Calvary, the mysteries of a forgotten world of industrial supremacy, the wonders of a deeply hidden world had been awaiting me. The hellish green flame of revelation soon presented itself here, at the Creek, and before I knew it- my various researches, photographs, and activities were noticed by both the historical community and political establishment of Queens.

Before long, I found myself standing alongside respected scholars and scientific pillars, advocating for the Creek in public, and telling its story to boat loads of eager enthusiasts. This is something which I am still getting used to.

A few aphorisms and truisms have emerged in the preceding years- “make no assumptions”, “it’s not good, it’s not bad, it just is”, “next time I go down English Kills in a rowboat, I’m wearing a respirator”, and “if it can happen, it happened here, and if it happened here it was ten times worse than anywhere else”. When the Open House NY walks on the 15th and 16th are done, and the boat tours are finished in October, my plan is to resume solitary wanderings and delve into deeper waters at the Creek which the general public need not visit. As always, I’ll be sharing my pedantic adventures with you, my lords and ladies of the Pentacle.

cheering illusion

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– photo by Mitch Waxman

Long island City, as we know it, was all about trains. Everywhere you go, tracks are. Despite this, the entire modern place is defined by it’s relationship to the automobile, which seems to have been the guiding principle behind much of its development in the middle 20th century- pull up the tracks and lay asphalt down for trucks. For those of you who might have seen me tagging along on one of Kevin Walsh’s audacious 2nd Saturday tours this summer, this will be a familiar refrain, but one of the things I’ve been going on about for the last several months is the “Locomotive City” versus the “Automotive City”.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

What I mean is that during the 19th and early 20th century, the place was set up and designed around access to rail based transportation rather than automotive needs. It’s why it’s so hard to park in LIC, except if you’re driving a train. 50 years ago, it was still not an uncommon or remarkable thing to see a Locomotive engine making its rounds at grade level around these parts, before everything switched over to truck and car based transport and the spars were cut.

This “locomotive city” had its own set of problems, of course, noise and pollution and accidents and all that- but the “automotive city” of the latter 20th century which we are all so familiar with is no picnic either. At least the earlier incarnation of the place was a lot more efficient.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

As regular readers of this, your Newtown Pentacle, know- I’m kind of an infrastructure geek. One of my favorite topics are the sewers after all, and anyone who has accompanied me on a walk through LIC has had to endure me running over to a construction site and waxing rhapsodically about the layer cake of street systems which are revealed whenever workmen have dug their way down to perform maintenance or repairs on some buried subsystem.

In a single vertical yard, you will see asphalt, cement, belgian block cobblestones, macadamized or creosote treated wood blocks, oil saturated compacted earth- all the way down to the loose fill which was appropriate for horse carts. The industrial history of New York City, in cross section.

Today’s post is a bit of a placeholder, by the way, big announcements are imminent…

desolate eternities

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– photo by Mitch Waxman

Your humble narrator has been enlaced in several ventures which have required assiduous effort for the last several days. Promissory obligation and contractual agreement precludes revelation of the substance of these recent labors, but suffice to say that sartorial glee will abound about the Pentacle when announcements are uttered aloud.

from tugboatinformation.com

Built in 1984, by Rayco Ship and Main Ironworks of Bourg, Louisiana as the Franklin Reinauer for Reinauer Transportation Companies of Staten Island, New York.

The Franklin Reinauer was the last tug built by the yard, after the construction of three push boats for another company, in 1985 the yard went out of business.

The tug is the second to bear the the name. The first tug that bore the name Franklin Reinauer was renamed as the Matthew Tibbetts.

She is a twin screw tug rated at 2,600 horsepower.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Pictured in many poses and places in this posting, and presented perspicuously is the tugboat which men call the Franklin Reinauer. Often garish, the “colorway” of each tugboat company is designed to be instantly recognizable at distance. There is something lovely about the Reinauer company’s brand colors of scarlet and orange, which provides primal contrasts with the surrounding azure and cerulean waterscape of New York Harbor.

from fireboat.org

When the Coast Guard called for all assistance, some tugboats were already at the scene with others making ready to assist. The tugboat Franklin Reinauer, under Capt. Ken Peterson and followed by three other Reinauer tugboats, arrived at the Battery seawall around 1130. Peterson said he radioed the MCC aboard the pilot boat New York for permission to go to the Battery seawall to take on passengers. Seeing 10 other tugboats standing off the Battery, he radioed them to come to the seawall. “People started running for the boats and I got off and started directing traffic,” Peterson said. “The first day, we had 27 tugboats on the Battery wall and five at Pier 11.” Tugboats from Moran, McAllister, Turracamo, Reinauer, Penn Maritime, Skaugen PetroTrans, Weeks Marine and other companies responded and continued to arrive during the afternoon. “It quickly became a collaborative effort with Andy McGovern, Ken Peterson and me determining how to best employ all the resources,” Day said.

Fire-fighting efforts at Ground Zero relied heavily on water supplied by two city fireboats and a welcome addition, the ex-New York City fireboat John J. Harvey. Privately purchased by outbidding the scrap dealers in 1999, the boat had been repaired since then and docked at Hudson River Pier 63.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Luck has placed me at enviable vantages all summer, and an enormous amount of time has been spent on and around the harbor, during which the Franklin Reinauer seemed almost a companion. Everywhere I went, it seemed the tugboat was there too. In the shots above, the Franklin Reinauer was maintaining a static position before the Pulaski Bridge on the Newtown Creek, undoubtedly awaiting the arrival of some stalwart steward of the drawbridge who would open the span and allow it further egress.

from wirednewyork.com

Newtown Creek is woven deeply into the city’s history. Until the Dutch arrived, the Maspetches Indians lived along its banks in what is now Maspeth, Queens. Some believe that Captain Kidd used a friend’s waterfront property there to stash his plunder. The creek was part of a boundary dispute from the mid- 1600’s to the mid-1700’s between Bushwick and Newtown, the precursors to Brooklyn and Queens.

But it was through commerce that the waterway came into its prime.

By the 1850’s, the creek was an industrial center that both fueled and paralleled the explosive growth of New York. Glue factories, smelting and fat-rendering plants, one of the earliest kerosene refinery and other smelly enterprises clustered along the shores of the creek and its little tributaries. The toxic sludge from these businesses got company in 1856, when the city decided to dump raw sewage directly into the water, a practice that continued for decades.

In the 1920’s and 30’s, the creek was widened to accommodate the growing traffic. In its heyday, the bridges that crossed it opened tens of thousands of times a year.

“Newtown Creek was a highway,” said Bernard Ente, a local historian. “It was just boats instead of trucks.” He estimated that 500 enterprises lined the creek at its peak. Large boats brought in raw materials and fuel and took out oil, fat, varnish, chemicals and metals.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

There it is again, this time in the legend choked waters off of Red Hook, and exiting the Erie Basin. A small number of Reinauer tugs and barges are often observed here at Erie Basin, which is known to most New Yorkers for the large Ikea store and NY Water Taxi Ferry service which docks here.

from pbs.org

From the mid-1800s to the mid-1900s, Red Hook’s port made it a thriving industrial neighborhood of mainly Italian and Irish American dockworkers. It was also home to one of the first Puerto Rican neighborhoods in New York City. By 1950, Red Hook had 21,000 residents, many of them longshoremen living in the Red Hook Houses, a public housing project built in 1938 to accommodate the growing number of dockworkers and their families. The neighborhood had a tough reputation—with such notorious figures as Al Capone getting their start there as small-time criminals—and its seedy side was immortalized in movies such as the On the Waterfront (1954), starring a young Marlon Brando.

When containerization shipping replaced traditional bulk shipping in the 1960s, many businesses at the Red Hook ports moved to New Jersey—as did the jobs. Unemployment increased quickly as industries abandoned Red Hook, and the neighborhood’s economy underwent a rapid decline. By the 1970s and ‘80s, it became known as being a crime-ridden, desolate neighborhood, severed from the rest of Brooklyn.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Mundane and sometimes odd coincidences of geography, maritime, and industrial usage create an unbearable historical similarity between Red Hook and Greenpoint which are deeper and more meaningful than some merely visual verisimilitude. Just on the other side of Erie Basin is the legendary Gowanus canal, Newtown Creek’s superfund.

from brooklyncb6.org

The industrial businesses that exist in Red Hook rely on trucking as the primary way to move goods and freight into and out of the area. Heavy truck traffic has had a serious impact on the residential population and most likely contributed to infrastructure failures and the collapse of some of the older buildings in the area. The geological substrata of this coastal floodplain region contains a dense organic layer of red clay (hence the “red” in Red Hook) that exacerbates the longitudinal transmission of surface vibrations. For years efforts have been underway to reevaluate the existing Truck Route network with an eye toward minimizing its direct impact on the residential community while optimizing its intended industrial usage. The existence of truck-based solid waste transfer stations, that provide little by way of economic development of the community, has contributed to the problem of truck traffic in a major way.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

The Newtown Creek and Gowanus Canal have both been largely abandoned by those industrial forces which ruined their honor, but the tugboat has also and often been sighted in the place where these forces find modern occupation- the storied waterway called the Kill Van Kull.

Here is the Franklin Reinauer straddling this currently undefended border between New York and New Jersey.

from wikipedia

The name “Kill van Kull” has its roots in the early 17th century during the Dutch colonial era, when the region was part of New Netherland. The naming of places by early explorers and settlers during the era often referred to a location in reference to other places, its shape, its topography, and other geographic qualities. The area around the Newark Bay was called Achter Kol. The bay lies behind Bergen Hill, the emerging ridge of the Hudson Palisades which begins on Bergen Neck, the peninsula between it and the Upper New York Bay. Behind or achter the ridge, was a col or passage to the interior. Kill comes from the Middle Dutch word kille, meaning riverbed, water channel, or stream. During the British colonial era the bay was known as Cull bay.

Kill van Kull translates as channel from the pass or ridge. The name of the sister channel to the Kill van Kull, the nearby Arthur Kill, is an anglicization of achter kill meaning back channel, which would refer to its location “behind” Staten Island.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Preparations for a vast undertaking, as mentioned in the first sentence of this evasive post, have finally been completed- a task which Sisyphus himself would have appreciated. Woe, that today I cannot accomplish my sincerest desire to announce these upcoming events. All a humble narrator can say at this moment would be:

Want to see something cool?

Bring a camera, and ID,

Follow me…

from wikipedia

Seagoing tugboats are in three basic categories:

    1. The standard seagoing tugboat with model bow that tows its “payload” on a hawser.
    2. The “notch tug” which can be secured in a notch at the stern of a specially designed barge, effectively making the combination a ship. This configuration is dangerous to use with a barge which is “in ballast” (no cargo) or in a head or following sea. Therefore, the “notch tugs” are usually built with a towing winch. With this configuration, the barge being pushed might approach the size of a small ship, the interaction of the water flow allows a higher speed with a minimal increase in power required or fuel consumption.
    3. The “integral unit,” “integrated tug and barge,” or “ITB,” comprises specially designed vessels that lock together in such a rigid and strong method as to be certified as such by authorities (classification societies) such as the American Bureau of Shipping, Lloyd’s Register of Shipping, Indian Register of Shipping, Det Norske Veritas or several others.These units stay combined under virtually any sea conditions and the “tugs” usually have poor sea keeping designs for navigation without their “barges” attached. Vessels in this category are legally considered to be ships rather than tugboats and barges must be staffed accordingly. These vessels must show navigation lights compliant with those required of ships rather than those required of tugboats and vessels under tow. Articulated tug and barge units also utilize mechanical means to connect to their barges. ATB’s generally utilize Intercon and Bludworth connection systems. Other available systems include Articouple, Hydraconn and Beacon Jak. ATB’s are generally staffed as a large tugboat, with between seven to nine crew members. The typical American ATB operating on the east coast, per custom, displays navigational lights of a towing vessel pushing ahead, as described in the ’72 COLREGS.

Harbor tugs. Historically tugboats were the first seagoing vessels with steam propulsion, providing freedom from the restraint of the wind. As such, they were employed in harbors to assist ships in docking and departure.

River tugs River tugs are also referred to as towboats or pushboats. Their hull designs would make open ocean operation dangerous. River tugs usually do not have any significant hawser or winch. Their hulls feature a flat front or bow to line up with the rectangular stern of the barge.