Posts Tagged ‘Long Island City’
flopping animals
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On the day of the New York City Marathon, which I was unable to photograph this year due to a variety of personal reasons, an effort was made to find some time to walk through the largely deserted Queens Plaza and get some shots of the place on the one day of the year it isn’t teeming with vehicular traffic. This got me thinking about Queens, and some of the people I’ve met walking along the streets here.
Showing up, I believe, is a substantial part of life. Attendance counts.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A few folks over at another blog have decided to ride me down for the announcement of the Blissville Oil Spill the other day. A fairly typical case of “killing the messenger”, the best name I’ve been called – so far- is “Pompous Coward”. That’s up there with a name granted me by a coworker many years ago when I worked at Ogilvy Interactive – “Feckless Quisling”.
Seriously, here’s the link, these are actually kind of funny.
I would also point out that it has always been Newtown Pentacle policy to discourage people from eating whatever animals they might find along Newtown Creek or at Chernobyl.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
What kind of struck me though, was that not a single one of those commenters reacted to the Blissville Spill itself, which brought me back to thinking about the people I’ve met walking around these streets with a camera. What a grand bunch- cops and firemen, politicians and gangsters, city planners and urban explorers, environmentalists and industrialists, moms and dads. The one common thread in all of Queens seems to be that there is no common thread, except for a sure sense that someone else is getting a bigger piece of the pie than you are and that you are honor bound to knock anyone who is demanding attention- even if they are telling you that your house is burning.
That’s kind of a crossroads, ain’t it?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Allow me, in these closing weeks of 2011, to affirm and refute certain things. First, the various “groups” which I’ve become affiliated with aren’t paying me a dime. I’m receiving no money from government or private sources to produce this blog, and when you may see ads appear at the bottom of a page- that’s WordPress (the Webhost), not me inserting them. Accordingly, I am betrothed to no particular ideology or didactic political world view, and instead operate in the manner of what the Japanese would call a Ronin. I believe it is better to talk than argue, as the latter is something I do only with family members.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Several of my little mottoes rule my actions, and betray my morality. “What would Superman do”, “Do what you say, and say what you do”, “It’s not good, nor bad, it just is”. Also- “Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one”, and “Fish, cut bait, or get out the way” are rather influential in governing my days. I bristle at the accusations others make about my motivations, which betray their own corruption. As a statement of principal, understand that I have no agenda or hidden motive, and that I am what and who I seem to be- someone in love with the oft overlooked and obfuscated story of Queens.
foetid darkness
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On Monday the 5th of December, the Newtown Creek Alliance had drawn me from the safety of Astoria to the wild streets of Brooklyn and far off Williamsburg’s Graham Avenue. I decided to walk, as the mists had begun to swirl. When the meeting ended, certain Greenpoint based members of the Alliance offered me a lift as far they were going and I gladly took their offer.That’s how I ended up on the Pulaski Bridge in the middle of an astounding weather event.
In the photo above, what is missing from the shot of Newtown Creek is Manhattan.
from wikipedia
Fog is a collection of water droplets or ice crystals suspended in the air at or near the Earth’s surface. While fog is a type of stratus cloud, the term “fog” is typically distinguished from the more generic term “cloud” in that fog is low-lying, and the moisture in the fog is often generated locally (such as from a nearby body of water, like a lake or the ocean, or from nearby moist ground or marshes).
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Even the nearby spires of Tower Town in Long Island City were obscured, lost in some primal soup. The sound was eerie, as well, and our Lady of The Pentacle (who is British) informs me that her countrymen would often remark that sound doesn’t travel the same way through fog as it does in clear air and great caution should be exercised when moving around in it.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Looking toward Dutch Kills along Borden Avenue, which trails along the malefic Newtown Creek, the enormous advertising sign mounted upon the “Fresh Direct” facility (which recently was, but I’m not sure if it still is, the nations largest illuminated sign) was creating quite a lightshow in the mist.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This thing plays through several advertisements for the Internet green grocer, and spotlights key products and offers to passing drivers on the Long Island Expressway, which it towers above. Depending on when in the repeating reel of ads you were, the mist either looked like this…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
…Or like this!
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Additionally, here’s one from earlier in the day, at Maspeth Creek, looking toward the Kosciuszko Bridge.
cherished pet
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On one of my walks, as I was crossing from Dutch Kills (the neighborhood, not the waterway) into Astoria via a disreputable corridor shunned by most area wags, these festively adorned bicycles were observed. I can’t tell you a deep story about them, describe some dire and hidden meaning, or point to some occult connection to old world evils or even jungle born horror- knowledge of which which would cause our civilization to retreat into a new and everlasting dark age of ignorance.
All I can do is congratulate the elaborate whimsy of such contrivance.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Long has my personal palette been described as gloom ridden, dark, and wholly unsaturated. A preference for black clothes, constructed of decidedly coarse and “non shiny” fabric, has often been shown by your humble narrator. Display of such ostentatious pageantry makes me uncomfortable, breaks my confidence, and scares me just a little bit. Can’t tell you why, but it does.
Colorful pomposity might draw attention and inspection upon me from peers and passerby, something which never goes well for me, as cracks in my facade yawn wide.
hewn rudely
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Recently, your humble narrator was onboard a speeding vessel as it hurtled down the River of Sound (or East River as it’s known to modern residents). Turning from the jewel like facade of the Shining City called Manhattan, my thoughts turned to Long Island City and it’s burgeoning Tower Town neighborhood, known to ancient residents as Ravenswood and Hunters Point.
High above and distant from the water I was traveling across, an impression nevertheless grew in my mind that the monocular thing which cannot possibly exist in the spire of that Sapphire Megalith turned and fixed its gaze upon our tiny craft- an intuition of which of I am certain.
from “Laws of the State of New York, Volume 2“, 1870, courtesy google books
AN ACT to incorporate Long Island City.
Passed May 6, 1870; three-fifths being present
The People of the State of New York, represented in Senate and Assembly, do enact as follows:
TITLE I.
Section 1. All that part of the town of Newtown in city the County of Queens, included within the following boundaries, to wit: Beginning at the mouth of Newtown creek, on the east side of the East river, running thence easterly along the center line of said Newtown Creek to the westerly side of the Penny bridge (so called); thence northerly along the westerly side of the Bushwick and Newtown turnpike to the road on the southerly side of Calvary cemetery, known as the road to Dutch Kills; thence along the center of said last-named road on the southerly and westerly sides of Calvary cemetery as far as the boundaries of said cemetery extend; thence northerly along sajd cemetery to the center of the road leading to Green Point, on the northerly side of said cemetery; thence along said last-mentioned road to the intersection of the same with the road leading from Calvary cemetery to Astoria; thence easterly to the center of Woodside avenue ; thence northerly along the center line of said avenue to Jackson avenue; thence northeasterly along the center of the Bowery Bay road to low water mark in Bowery bay; thence westerly along low water mark to the East river; thence southerly along low water mark in the East river, to the place of beginning, shall be a city known as Long Island City; and the citizens of this State, from time to time inhabitants within the said boundaries, shall be a corporation by the name of “Long Island City,” and as such may sue and be sued, complain and defend, in any court, make and use a common seal and alter it at pleasure; and may receive by gift, devise, grant, bequest or purchase, and hold and convey, such real and personal property as the purposes of said corporation may requite.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The reputation endured by Long Island City in the 19th and most of the 20th centuries can hardly be described as desirable, as the historical record displays. The ancient home of graft, as it has been called, the hybrid assemblage of distant villages and towns into a single municipality which occurred in 1870 spawned a seemingly lawless community.
Tales of gambling dens, vice ridden hotels and inns, foreign born highwaymen, and an endless series of corrupt political organizations abound in contemporaneous accounts of the place.
from “Wallace’s monthly, Volume 8 By John Hankins Wallace“, 1882, courtesy google books
Ever since the enactment of the law against pool selling the police and judicial authorities of this city have been more or less persistent and successful in their attempts to suppress this form of gambling. Whatever charges of negligence and connivance may be brought against them, their services have been valuable and in a measure successful. This is evident from the fact that this particular form of gambling has been driven across the river into Queens County, Long Island, where the dirty scoundrels and their victims congregate to transact their nefarious business. Their protection there, by the local authorities, has been so thoroughly and even fiercely exposed by the daily press that an honest man don’t like to be seen crossing the ferry to Hunter’s Point, or Long Island City, as it is called. In the public estimation the place has become a moral lazaretto and in a choice of residence a man would not have much to choose between that and a smallpox hospital. But why should all this odium lie cast upon poor little tax ridden and rogue ridden Long Island City?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It is said that when Manhattan outlawed bare knuckle boxing, barges with rings and bleachers upon them appeared at Hunters Point and ferries would carry crowds from the larger city to so called “pugilist exhibitions”. Additionally, according to Comstock and other guardians of the public good, when horse parlors and pool betting (the modern day numbers racket) were similarly banned in the Shining City- a flurry of such activity began across the river at what we moderns would call Long Island City. All of this increasingly organized crime was nourished and populated by the transient customers of the Long Island Railroad and a concurrent Ferry station- again, I’m owing this to period reports from reliable (and multitudinous) sources.
Of course, in LIC, it was the mayor, coroner, police chief, and fire department who both (personally) owned and operated the back room casinos, whorehouses, and dens of iniquity. The LIRR bosses cared little, as long as local government did not get in their way, and the payoff demands were reasonable. It was only during the era of Patrick Gleason that things got out of hand and the LIRR finally had enough of it.
from Wikipedia
Gantry Plaza State Park is a state park on the East River in the Hunter’s Point section of Long Island City, in the New York City borough of Queens.
The 10-acre (4.0 ha) park first opened in May 1998 and was expanded in July 2009. The southern portion of the park is a former dock facility and includes restored gantry cranes built in the 1920s to load and unload rail car floats that served industries on Long Island via the Long Island Rail Road tracks that used to run along 48th Avenue (now part of Hunter’s Point Park). The northern portion of Gantry Plaza State Park was a former Pepsi bottling plant.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The days of the Rail bosses secretly pulling the strings here are long gone, their proudest achievements reduced to show pieces for the slavering pet of that thing which cannot possibly persist in the Megalith. Cherished and nurtured beneath the unblinking and fire sheathed eye of that which does not breath, nor sleep, yet hungers- this coagulation of industry and greed which it nurtures here is a tangled knot of labor unions, land speculators, and ambitious politicians. This pet- a drooling hound of limitless appetite and vainglorious aspiration has no name- but its malice and cold desire is clearly manifest in Tower Town and will soon spread along the waterfront south across Hunters Point and then into Brooklyn and beyond…
Allegorical references to “Fenrir the Wolf” would seem appropriate, but would be inaccurate- an ancient nomen for a modern threat…
For now, can we just refer to the force trapped behind the black gates of Western Queens as the “Real Estate Industrial Complex“?
from “A history of Long Island: from its earliest settlement to the present time, Volume 1” 1902, courtesy google books
It is noticeable that some of the deeds in the early part of the last century conveying lots at Hunter’s Point call it Long Island City. It continued to be a straggly, dreary, povertystricken place, with few settlers and these of the poorest class, until the Long Island Road, because it could not make the necessary arrangements in Brooklyn, selected it as the main terminus of the road. Since then it has steadily increased in population, and as the First Ward of Long Island City it rapidly assumed the lead in the destinies of that now happilv departed shade. Railway and manufacturing interests have steadily built up its population and added to its material resources, most of which, however, were mercilessly squandered by political intriguers.
mighty temples
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The neo gothic handiwork of architect Morrell Smith is hard to miss as one moves about Queens Plaza, and it is known to all as the former Bank of Manhattan Tower. Formerly the tallest structure in the borough of Queens at 14 stories (roughly 210 feet), the 1927 vintage building has since been dwarfed by the Citibank Megalith at Court Square. Smith was a noted architect of the early 20th century and had his hands in more than one landmarked structure in Queens (and Manhattan), and his projects also included the notable Jamaica Savings Bank which is found further east.
Crenellated, its spire carries a clock.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Personal observation has revealed that these clocks are seldom if ever accurate, and often they do not match up with each other. My understanding, gleaned from municipal and real estate industrial complex propaganda, is that the hidden mechanisms which drive these clocks are undergoing some sort of restoration as is the rest of the building- although specific detail remains elusive. The building itself is another one of the “black holes” in the historical record which distinguish western Queens- a noteworthy structure erected to serve a high profile company sited in a prominent location which is nevertheless relegated to an architectural footnote because its location is outside of Manhattan.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Your humble narrator acknowledges that, as always, whenever the subject of Queens Plaza and it’s locale comes up one must refer to the hierophants at the Greater Astoria Historical Society– however- one does not wish to stand on the shoulders of others forever and I have resisted making inquiries with them about the place. Unfortunately, independent research has offered little surcease to my curiosity about the clock tower or offered the deeper story and meaning of this building. Rumors of late 20th century bacchanals and Astorian apocrypha about certain rites conducted in its lofty heights during the thunder crazed nights of the the second world war era notwithstanding, there is a dearth of information available for me to share with you about the place. An open call is therefore made to you, Lords and Ladies of Newtown, for any information which might serve to inform your fellow citizenry on this enigmatic structure.



















