Kenneth R. Cobb
New York Goes Wild Welcoming Trudy Home
Lauren Gilbert
The Dog Days of August in the Municipal Library
NYC Municipal Library
The Municipal Library is a Library—A ...
Melissa Cardinali
Welcome to Fear City 
Elsie Karlak
Swanky Restaurants, Luxury Hotels, & ...

New York Goes Wild Welcoming Trudy Home

“New York Goes Wild Welcoming Trudy Home”

-New York City Journal, August 27, 1926

One-hundred years ago, on August 27, 1926, New York City honored 19-year-old New York-native Gertrude Ederle with a ticker-tape parade for her record-breaking swim across the English Channel.

Her 14-hour, 31-minute time beat the five previous successful crossings, all made by men, and was not bested until 1964. Ederle’s accomplishment inspired countless female athletes and brought her world-wide fame, far greater that the accolades she received for winning three swimming medals in the 1924 Olympics. 

Reception Steamer Macom to Miss Gertrude Ederle, August 27, 1926. Photo by Eugene de Salignac, Department of Bridges/Plant & Structures Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. Gertrude Ederle is at center standing behind her father Henry (with flag) and mother Gertrud.

This week, For the Record reprises the article first posted in 2023, celebrating Gertrude Ederle’s achievement and the ticker-tape reception.

Soon after news of Ederle’s swimming triumph on August 6, 1926, reached the city, Mayor James Walker asked Grover Whalen, Chairman of the Mayor’s Committee on Receptions to Distinguished Guests, to welcome her home with a ticker-tape parade. While not credited with inventing the ticker-tape parade, Whalen perfected the unique New York celebration and presided over some of the most iconic parades for notable achievements—most famously, Lindbergh’s transatlantic flight in 1927.

Gertrude Ederle’s father Henry ran a butcher shop at 110 Amsterdam Avenue, the family lived next door at 108 Amsterdam Avenue. 1940s Tax Photo Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Ticker-tape parades may appear spontaneous, i.e. the honored guest rides in an open limousine up Broadway from the Battery to City Hall for an official welcome by the Mayor, showered by shredded paper and confetti (or in the pre-digital age, ticker tape), along the way. Examining Whalen’s records shows that staging a ticker-tape parade was anything but spontaneous. The Municipal Archives collections include the files Grover Whalen created during his multi-decade career as the City’s official greeter. The eight folders generated for the Gertrude Ederle celebration are a good example.

After receiving the green light from Mayor Walker, Whelan assembled a committee with representatives from city departments (Police, Fire, Docks, Street Cleaning, and Plant & Structures), news media, and people from organizations relevant to the honored guest. For Ederle, this included many athletic clubs and groups such as the New York Athletic Club, Millrose Athletic Club, and the Women’s Swimming Association.

Although Whalen and his committee could take advantage of the several-day ocean voyage before Ederle returned to America, they needed to move quickly. He summoned committee members by telegram and held the first meeting on Monday, August 23. The “Minutes of Meeting” are included in his files. Whalen opened the meeting: “We have come together this afternoon on a very interesting and, I am sure, a very pleasing occasion—to plan for the welcome of one of New York’s own….” But then he added, “I am sure that we all feel very proud of Gertrude, and we call her by her first name because we feel that she is very close to us and because she has done so much to make us realize that after all young womanhood today [is] not giving all of its time to smoking and drinking.” The surviving records do not say what prompted that statement.

Letter detailing the preparation for banquet at Commodore Hotel, September 1, 1926. Mayor’s Committee on Receptions to Distinguished Guests Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Whalen then returned to the purpose of the meeting and noted that the U.S. Treasury Department had kindly consented to “permit Miss Gertrude Ederle and party to leave the S. S. Berengaria at quarantine” and bypass immigration protocols.

Whalen’s files show that within two days he and the committee had finalized a timeline for the event on August 27. It would begin at 9 a.m. when the committee and members of the Ederle family were instructed to assemble at Pier A, and board the steamer “Macom,” [a city-owned vessel]. By 10 a.m. they expected to tie up alongside the S.S. Berengaria, bring Ederle aboard the Macom, and return to the Battery for the start of the parade. The parade would depart at 11:45 and reach City Hall by 12:15. After the formal ceremonies, “Miss Ederle will be escorted to her home on Amsterdam Avenue.” Later in the day, Mayor Walker would host Ederle, her family and invited guests for a formal dinner at the Hotel Commodore.  

Reception Steamer Macom to Miss Gertrude Ederle, August 27, 1926. Photo by Eugene de Salignac, Department of Bridges/Plant & Structures Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Whalen’s correspondence includes a letter from Charles A. Oberwager, President of the United German Societies of the City of N.Y. Mr. Oberwager was also apparently a City Magistrate and used his official stationery for the correspondence. Oberwager wrote: “The German Americans of New York City are keyed up to the highest pitch; their enthusiasm for Miss Gertrude Ederle of New York knows no bounds and thousands of men and women are eagerly awaiting the moment to greet her upon her arrival here and to cheer her to the echo.” He then listed no less than fifteen special “requests” such as, “That, if in or about the City Hall there should be decorations containing flags of foreign nations, that the German flag be also displayed.” And, “That a number of ladies, not more than twenty-four, be permitted to wear sport caps, black skirts and white sweaters.” 

Gertrude Ederle with Mayor Jimmy Walker and Governor Al Smith. Grover Whalen scrapbook. NYC Municipal Archives.

A carbon copy of Whalen’s response is also in the file. Whalen politely acknowledged Oberwager’s enthusiasm but also let him know that “...We plan to welcome Miss Ederle... first as an American citizen and secondly as a New York girl whose marvelous achievement in conquering the English Channel has brought to her country, her city and to her people untold glory.” He added “...since the official escort must represent the spirit of the City, only the American and municipal flags may be carried.”

Gertrude Ederle’s day proceeded as planned. When asked why she undertook the swim, she said she wanted to bring honor to the United States. She also added that her father had promised her “a small roadster” if she succeeded. After losing her hearing in 1930 and suffering a debilitating back injury in 1933, she spent many years teaching deaf children to swim. Gertrude Ederle died at age 98 on November 30, 2003.

New York City Journal clipping of Gertrude Ederle ticker-tape parade. Grover Whalen scrapbook. NYC Municipal Archives.

Many years later, Grover Whalen wrote in his autobiography, Mr. New York [G.P. Putnam’s Sons, New York, 1955] about receptions he organized and said that there had been so many only a few stood out in his memory. And one that did was the Gertrude Ederle’s welcome parade. “Well do I recall that day in August of 1926 when all New York turned out to welcome home the first women to swim the Channel.” He recalled that the Police Department had underestimated the crowds that would turn up for the event. “After the official ceremony Mayor Walker escorted Trudy to the front steps of City Hall in response to the request of the press for a picture. They did not tarry there long, however. A tidal wave of citizenry burst upon them. One burly patrolman rushed to Trudy’s rescue, lifted her bodily, and carried her back inside City Hall. Two other policemen ran interference for the slim Mayor, one on either side of him, and finally got him back into the building.”

Just two weeks after Gertrude Ederle enjoyed her triumph, on September 10, 1926, the City held a ticker-tape parade for another cross-channel swimmer, Mille Gade Corson. Billed as the “First Mother and Second Woman to Swim the Channel,” the 27-year-old Danish-American Corson explained her motivation: “I’ve got to make some money for my kids.”

In 2013, the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation opened the Gertrude Ederle Recreation Center on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, at 232 West 60th Street near the Ederle family home at 110 Amsterdam Avenue. More recently, the Trudy Ederle Foundation was established to preserve her legacy. The organization focuses on movement, prevention, and inclusion, using her historic athletic mindset to support youth programs and athlete transitions.

Gertrude Ederle joined Track & Field Olympic athlete Pat McDonald (left) and Grover Whalen (right) in the ticker-tape parade for the 1952 United States Summer Olympic Team, July 7, 1952. Mayor’s Reception Committee photograph collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

The Dog Days of August in the Municipal Library

Dog Owner’s Guide to Scooping, 1973. NYC Municipal Library.

In honor of National Dog Month, we are taking a look at the history of rules, recommendations, and practices surrounding dog ownership in NYC through the collections of the Municipal Library.

There has been a law on the books since 1859 requiring all dogs in “any street or public place, in either the cities of New-York or Brooklyn,” to be “properly muzzled, or unless being led by a chain or string” as recorded in the 1866 Code of Health Ordinances from the Metropolitan Board of Health. (This was, of course, before the consolidation of New York City’s five boroughs in 1898.)

Information for Dog Owners: Why Dogs Must Be Muzzled When at Large, 1919. NYC Municipal Library. 

In 1878, as reported in the daily City Record, Mayor Smith Ely, Jr. issued a proclamation establishing a dog pound at 16th Street and the East River, where all seized dogs would be delivered by the appointed dog catchers. Rather harshly, any dog “not claimed within forty-eight hours, and redeemed by the owner, by paying the sum of three dollars” was to be “killed and destroyed by drowning.”

A small 1919 pamphlet from the NYC Department of Health, Information for Dog Owners: Why Dogs Must Be Muzzled When at Large, cited a new sanitary code Section 17, which stated that “no unmuzzled dog shall be permitted to be … in any public park or place in the City of New York.” The reasoning for this new mandatory muzzling provision was that rabies, which was “almost always caused by the bite of rabid (mad) dogs,” was an “absolutely fatal disease.”

The 1919 pamphlet also reminded dog owners that they were required to “procure a yearly license and pay the sum of two dollars for each dog” and provide their dog with a collar bearing the license number. Failure to comply could result in seizure of the animal, followed by the same severe penalty noted in 1878: “if not claimed and redeemed within forty-eight hours thereafter, they may be destroyed.” Fortunately, while the licensing requirement remains on the books, the enforcement provision now simply states that officials may issue “notices of violation for failure to comply.” (Since at least 2017, as recorded in their annual reports, NYC shelters have completely stopped euthanizing healthy animals.)

Beginning in 1934, an amendment to the Sanitary Code specified that all dogs in public should be restrained by a leash of less than six feet in length, with muzzling no longer required. As reported in the New York Times that year, the Health Department believed this would be easier to enforce than the struct muzzling provision, and that greater compliance would reduce the then-growing number of dog bites in the city. The leash law remains in effect today, except in designated dog runs and during off-leash hours in public parks.

Annual Report, Department of Sanitation, 1946. NYC Municipal Library.

In 1918, the sanitary code was amended to require dog owners to prevent their pets from “committing any nuisance upon any sidewalk of any public street, avenue, park, public square, or place in the city of New York.” This provision, which came to be known as “curb your dog,” became the target of public campaigns beginning in the late 1930s. By 1946, according to that year’s annual report from the Department of Sanitation, there were 9,047 “curb your dog” signs placed in all five boroughs.

Pet ownership grew in the post-war period, and by 1961, the “curb your dog” campaign was deemed insufficient to address the growing piles of dog waste on streets and sidewalks. At the requests of Mayor Robert F. Wagner, Municipal Library Director Eugene Bockman compiled a report “concerning the methods used by other large cities to control dog nuisance.” While researching practices in cities across the country, he found that “very little has been accomplished elsewhere which would help New York City with its problem.” While most cities had nothing on the books beyond a leash law, Milwaukee was then going so far as to propose an ordinance that would “forbid owners to have pets anywhere in the city… except in their own premises.” This was expected to be met by “loud protests from dog lovers and the humane society.”

Annual Report, Department of Sanitation, 1952. NYC Municipal Library.

Even in NYC, according to Library Director Bockman, former Sanitation Commissioner Paul R. Screvane believed that “dogs should be toilet-trained inside the house and continue that way instead of using city streets. In his opinion, it is inconsistent with modern hygiene to allow such a mess in the streets where many children play and people walk.”

Dog Owner’s Guide to Scooping, 1973. NYC Municipal Library. 

In 1973, the city’s Environmental Protection Agency published a charmingly illustrated Dog Owner’s Guide to Scooping. While “pooper scooping” had not yet been codified into law, the small pamphlet appealed to pet owners’ “respect of property and good manners,” explaining how to clean up after ones dog with newspapers or a scoop, either homemade or purchased. A note from the EPA Administrator added, “Thanks for helping us make New York City a cleaner, more pleasant place to live.”

It was not until August of 1978 that a New York State law took effect in cities with a population of 400,000 or more, requiring dog owners and handlers to clean up after their dogs on public sidewalks, streets, gutters, and other public areas. Clipped articles from that era in the Library’s “Dogs” Vertical File highlight the controversy surrounding the new law. Those opposed to it, largely dog owners and even the ASPCA, argued that it would either be unenforceable or would lead to pet abandonment. Supporters insisted that it would change habits and create a climate of respect.

Dog Owner’s Guide to Scooping, 1973. NYC Municipal Library.

A July 28, 1978, article in the Westsider described the new scooping gadgets then on sale, as well as what must have been a short-lived, city-provided “Doggie Flush” at 207 West 10th Street—a 45-inch bowl set into the sidewalk that the owner flushed “by stepping on a conveniently located valve handle.” According to an August 2 article in the New York Times, a young woman in Greenwich Village who was openly flouting the new law intended to “read Thoreau to my cocker spaniel and teach her civil disobedience.”

A press release issued by Mayor Ed Koch in 1979, on the first anniversary of the “pooper scooper law,” announced that 1616 people had received summonses for failing to clean up after their dogs, following a 3-month grace period during which 7000 warnings had been issued. The Mayor took this as proof that the law was enforceable and noted that public peer pressure had also been effective in encouraging compliance. By 1985, on the seventh anniversary of the law’s passage, a joint statement from the Commissioners of the Sanitation and Parks Departments reported that 18,230 summonses had been issued, resulting in fine revenues exceeding $435,000. Parks Commissioner Henry J. Stern called the law “one of the best things that ever happened to New York City parks.”

Of course, as any New Yorker could tell you, the original “pooper scooper” law did not completely solve the problem. Just last week, the City Council passed an additional package of four bills known as the SCOOP (Safe and Clean Outdoor Ownership Practices) Act, aimed at combatting “rising complaints about the poop smeared across the city’s streets.”

After 9/11, as the city turned its attention to disaster preparedness, the NYC Office of Emergency Management issued a 2002 guide to Disaster Preparedness for Animals in New York City. A 2015 version, called My Pet’s Emergency Plan, is now available in multiple languages through the Library’s online Government Publication’s Portal.

My Pet’s Emergency Plan (Haitian Creole), 2015, NYCEM. NYC Municipal Library

As reliance on “emotional support” animals has increased over the last decade, the NYC Commission on Human Rights issued a 2020 FAQ about Emotional Support Animals in Housing. It explained that “housing providers… must permit residents to keep emotional support animals as a reasonable accommodation for a disability,” and that emotional support animals are exempt from “no dog” policies.

Dog bites have remained a problem in NYC into our current century. The July 2017 issue of NYC Vital Signs, a monthly publication of the NYC Department of Health, was devoted to Preventing Dog Bite-Related Injuries among New York City Residents. Vital Signs revisited the topic in April of 2026, declaring that the rate of reported dog bites to New York City residents was at a ten-year peak.

While some issues remain constant, others transform over time, reflecting changing notions about public health, animal welfare, and the nature of our relationship with our pets. The Municipal Library’s collections offer a glimpse into that evolution through laws and official reports, as well as pamphlets, newspaper clippings, guides, and other everyday documents that capture how New Yorkers have been asked to coexist with their canine companions.

The Municipal Library is a Library—A Conversation with Julie Robbins

On June 24, 2026, sometime late afternoon, encircling the wooden conference table of the Department of Records and Information Services headquarters at 31 Chambers, where on the walls, assembled as asymmetrical triptychs are framed historical black-and-white photographs of bridges, street scenes, or graphic news clippings, three DORIS staff sat. At the center of the table two cell phones recorded a conversation: Commissioner Smith-Cruz with Assistant Commissioner Cobb, sat across from the Deputy Librarian, Julie Robbins. At the eve of her retirement, what began as an interview quickly became a recalling of the role and its impact on our city’s records. Below is a snippet of the conversation.  

Photos of Julie Robbins by Matt Minor

Shawn(ta) Smith-Cruz: Julie, Ken may already know this, but I’m new. Tell us what brought you into the Municipal Library.

Julie Robbins: I worked as a lawyer for many years until I finally smartened up and realized that it wasn’t what I wanted to be doing. I was already quite mature and decided to go to library school. I think I may have been by far the oldest in my class, but it was great. Then I noticed an internship posting for the Municipal Library. I applied, and I never left. 

Ken Cobb: The Municipal Library is a library, obviously, and it is open to the public. But it is not a public library. Tell us how that informs the operation of the library and or the services.  

JR: The last commissioner, Pauline Toole, had a very strong commitment to having the Municipal Library be fully open to the public. That does inform how we handle the reading room, for instance, because walk-ins are still allowed and encouraged to come in. There were times when that made us more like a branch of the New York Public Library. Our rules and regulations for use are informed by what a regular public library has to put in place for safety, and so on.  

SSC: Tell us about the GPP. What is it? What is it good for? And what have you done for it?  

JR: The Government Publications Portal! I’d say I’m “cheerleader in chief,” probably. Joel Castillo was the head of applications development. He started here when he was in college and went on to head the applications development team. Early on in his tenure, he wrote the code to create a digital library. And so, the government publications portal is a digital library. And we are actually tasked by the charter to maintain a digital library of the City’s publications. It used to be that the charter required every agency to send us four copies of every single thing they published. But the agencies gradually phased out paper publications, and we started not having room for all the hard copy.  

SSC: What’s the status of the GPP now? How can it grow? 

JR: Oh, it can get a lot better. Our search is a little wonky. It’s a little too thorough, but better too thorough than not, I suppose. Our user experience, both for the agency submitters, and for the public, is in need of a tune up. We haven’t linked WorldCat to the digital items. Our regular catalog Koha, which is powered by Bywater, is available in WorldCat. At some point, syncing the GPP would make both discoverable. I don’t have the technical chops to do that myself, but somebody probably does. 

SSC: I'm curious about reference work. Explain to me the reference ecosystem.  

JR: Differently than archives, as it relates to the library, it’s actually fairly straightforward. You show a researcher the library catalog. We either have it or we don’t. We pull it for them. One thing we do find often is that researchers access our collections through the Archives. They know the Municipal Archives. It is better known than the Library. So sometimes we have to, like, chivvy our Archives’ colleagues into making sure that researchers know that there are published materials from the agency that they want, and it’s not just the archival material.  

KC: The Municipal Library is more than just the GPP. Maybe you could tell us about some of your favorite library publications or items you think our readers would be surprised to know are in the library.  

JR: I would say one interesting thing is that almost every mayor had a sort of a “pet topic” or nurtured a particularly fun thing. For example, [Mayor William] O’Dwyer, liked the fashion industry. And LaGuardia has this whole section about civil defense activity because he served during wartime and the Feds appointed him to do emergency work.  

KC: And then there are the vertical files! 

JR: The vertical files are so cool!  

SSC: I know about this collection.  

JR: Yeah, yeah! The librarians gathered campaign brochures and informational materials. The political ones I find particularly amazing, all the way from 1927 to the ’80s. Here’s an example you can research: what role did the German Bunds play in the 1920s political situation in New York? 

KC: The neighborhood files are good, too. 

JR: And the neighborhood files are really good, too. Yeah. 

KC: And the biographical, they have a whole section. 

JR: You know, hardly anybody ever looks at those. It’s so interesting. We have clippings about almost every prominent New York City agency employee or politician. It usually includes at least the obituary, and if some police captain gets promoted to a district captain, there’s that. They’re all in binders. They got glued onto pieces of paper, a preservation nightmare, of course; the glue is giving out on a lot of it. 

SSC: Are there any biographies or stories of people that have stood out to you during your time as Deputy Librarian? 

JR: I have a standing coffee date with a previous researcher here, Gil Tauber, who is part of a group called the Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group. He’s 91. And when he started coming here when he was 87, he was creating a database of street names in New York and building a website, Old Streets, New York. He physically tracked through the entire Board of Aldermen series and wrote down the origin for all street names. We saw a fair amount of him, and I realized that he lived in the neighborhood, so I would run into him on the street, and eventually, Gil and I started having coffee together pretty much every week now.  

SSC: That’s wonderful that you generated this personal relationship! 

JR: The personal relationships in any job are a big part of it. Getting to know the people who are so knowledgeable about, and so committed to City government, and making City government accessible. People like Ken Cobb, and Pauline Toole, and Lauren Gilbert, and, you know, many of my colleagues, has really been wonderful.... I really like being able to help people figure out how to access different city materials. That’s one of the things I’m going to miss.   

KC: Well, is there anything else that you would want to share with the world?  

JR: No.  

SSC: You’ve done it all.  

KC: You said it all.

JR: I’ve said enough. Yeah. Yeah.  

SSC: What’s next for you?  

JR: I’m gonna be traveling! Both on my own, you know, for pleasure and also to visit my, my daughter and granddaughter. Grandma stuff. That’s pretty much the agenda. I’m gonna become bicoastal.  

KC: Nice. And I’ll see you at the farmer’s market.  

JR: And you’ll see me at the farmer’s market. I go in the early morning.  

Welcome to Fear City 

In my search for content that I could use to write curriculum aids, I came across a startling item in the Municipal Library vertical files: Welcome to Fear City: A Survival Guide for Visitors to the City of New York.  

The cover image was too compelling to ignore, and its contents were even grimmer than expected. This “Survival Guide” contains nine “tips” for, well, surviving a vacation in the Big Apple. As you can see when you click inside the pamphlet, the tips are ominous, foreboding warnings such as “do not walk,” “avoid public transportation,” “Remain in Manhattan,” and “stay off the streets after 6 P.M.”

I was baffled as to who would create this brand of menacing travel brochure, but the reasons for its existence are clearly stated in the pamphlet: “By the time you read this, the number of public safety personnel available to protect residents and visitors may already have been still further reduced. Under those circumstances, the best advice we can give you is this: Until things change, stay away from New York City if you possibly can.” 

Here’s some back story.

The fiscal crisis in 1975 led New York City to enact extreme budget cuts; city workers experienced reductions in salaries and pensions, and more than 50,000 people (one-sixth of the workforce) were laid off. On July 1, 1975, 5,000 police officers, many in radio-car patrols, were furloughed, along with 1,600 firefighters—20% of the city’s entire department, 7,000 teachers, and many highway, sanitation and bridge workers. Initially, some unions reacted strongly. Highway workers picketed during rush hours, teachers went on strike for one week at the beginning of the school year, and sanitation workers left 48,000 tons of garbage on the street for two days. There are also accounts of bridge workers walking off the job with three drawbridges still raised.

REC0022_01_1975_010_10: Unsafe building, Georgia Avenue and Liberty Avenue, Brooklyn, January 30, 1975. Photograph by Paul Rice, Department of Housing Preservation and Development photograph collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

New York City police officers took a different approach. The Council for Public Safety (a consortium of municipal labor unions but mostly NYPD and FDNY) created and distributed the Fear City “survival guide” pamphlet to deter tourists from visiting the city, citing high crime rates and an increasingly dangerous environment. They printed one million copies and distributed them over a few days at JFK airport. Authorship of the pamphlet is attributed to “uniform” unions, but Ken McFeeley, president of the Patrolmen’s Benevolent Association in New York City, was the man behind the campaign.

REC0022_01_1975_070: Removal of cars from site, Department of Relocation, 36 Pitt Street, Manhattan, May 14, 1975. Photograph by Leonard Boykin, Department of Housing Preservation and Development photograph collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

This pamphlet was not designed as public policy guidance from City Hall. It was dystopian propaganda and one of the boldest public pressure campaigns in the City’s history.

This stated, the facts remain. Across the city, crime and violent crime was on the rise and had been for years. The number of murders, car thefts and assaults had doubled (or more) from 1965 to 1975. The rate of burglaries and rapes had more than tripled. (The Guardian, 2015)

Despite the increase in crime, 10.5 million tourists still visited each year. Many New Yorkers couldn’t fathom why the unions who were hired to protect the city (and paid with tax dollars) would try to reduce any streams of income during the fiscal emergency that led to their members layoffs.

The Municipal Archives WNYC moving image collection also includes a video of elected officials discussing the campaign.

REC0047_1_3339: Feedback On Pamphlet, “Welcome To Fear City”; Council President Paul O’Dwyer, Council Member Reverend Gigan, June 13, 1975. WNYC-TV collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0022_01_1975_046: Collapsed landmark building, 318 Hicks Street, Brooklyn, April 4, 1975. Photograph by Leonard Boykin, Department of Housing Preservation and Development photograph collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

As you’ll see in the video, there was a sentiment that this campaign only added insult to injury to a city already in crisis. Council President Paul O’Dwyer called the campaign “the worst piece of propaganda” and “a certain kind of madness.” He even said it should be considered “criminal libel” due to its “false and deliberate” nature. He sponsored a residency bill to make sure people who work for the city also live here. The video contends that the general population, including members of the unions in the Council for Public Safety, did not support the Fear City campaign. In fact, the Police Department’s Captains Endowment Association, Lieutenants Benevolent Association, the Sergeants Benevolent Association, and the Uniformed Fire Officers Association publicly stated they did not support it. And, ultimately, the city’s unions wound up essentially risking their retirements by investing $2.5 billion in pension funds in the city’s bonds, which helped the city regain solvency. 

REC0022_01_1975_180: Collapsed building, 21 President Street, Brooklyn, December 4, 1975. Photograph by Leonard Boykin, Department of Housing Preservation and Development photograph collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The pamphlets were distributed for two days but the effects of using fear as political leverage and spreading information with harmful intent are long-lasting. This artifact is a reminder of how perception can shape public policy and that propaganda doesn’t only come from the government.  There are many implications for today’s media consumers; this resource is definitely worth a closer look.

The Welcome to Fear City: A Survival Guide for Visitors to the City of New York is housed in the Municipal Library Vertical Files under the subject “Safety.”

Swanky Restaurants, Luxury Hotels, & Radical Theater: A Review of the Immigrant Communities of New York

Beginning in 2018, For the Record posted articles about the Municipal Archives ongoing project to preserve and inventory the Manhattan Building Plan collection. In the most recent post last year, Project Archivist Amy Stecher provided a Building Plan Update. This week, conservator Elsie Karlak contributes a narrative of her three months on the project:

Everybody gets confused sometimes. REC0074_0418_043: Front elevation, 293 Broome Street. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

I was lucky enough to join colleagues as we continued to process plans for buildings located in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. The first home for many immigrants to the United States, this neighborhood experienced rapid growth during the late 19th and early 20th centuries as evidenced by the large volume of “new building” (NB) applications submitted to the Department of Buildings to construct multi-family dwellings, usually described as tenements. Likewise, requests for permits to add plumbing, fire escapes, and other alterations illustrated the ongoing work necessary to make tenements safer for their residents.

I also discovered plans for many other aspects of city life such as entertainment venues, community service organizations, schools, and places of worship. The plans chart the ebb and flow of the neighborhood, as immigrant communities moved out and others moved in, and as city officials created parks and public housing.

Here are some highlights of what I discovered along the way. 

Entertainment:

Block 416, Lot 20

This plan shows a swanky restaurant called Jack Silverman’s Old Romanian with space for 500 diners, dancing, and an orchestra. The Crystal Lounge wound around the curved bar.

REC0074_0416_020: Jack Silverman’s Old Romanian, 169-171-173 Allen Street. First floor plan. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

169-171-173 Allen Street, ca. 1939. 1940s Tax Photograph collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Block 416, Lot 8

A short-lived radical theater, the plan depicts a classic black box theater, with seating around a central stage. The “People’s Drama” appears to be most famous for a run of a play, Nat Turner a highly fictionalized dramatization of the uprising led by the enslaved Nat Turner in 1831.

REC0074_0416_008: The People’s Drama, 210 Eldridge Street. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

210 Eldridge Street, ca. 1939. 1940s Tax Photograph collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

 Block 427, Lot 27

This theater was one of many ventures by the Minsky brothers, famous for staging burlesque shows. Designed by theatre architect Thomas Lamb, it became the home for Yiddish productions and burlesque shows. The NB plans show the orchestra seating area and the curtain line that would hide backstage.

REC0074_0427_027_01: Minsky Theatre, Houston and Chrystie Streets. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

111-117 East Houston Street, ca. 1939. 1940s Tax Photograph collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Block 420, Lot 39

A luxury hotel in the heart of the Lower East Side? I was confused when I came across plans for a twelve-story building, seemingly out of place amongst the walk-up tenements I had been cataloging. The Libby Hotel and Baths, built in 1924 for a staggering $1.3 million, was the passion project of Max Bernstein. Unfortunately, the venture was short-lived. The property was foreclosed and the hotel was demolished in 1934. The City took the property via eminent domain, along with seven blocks along Houston and Canal Streets to build the Sara D. Roosevelt Park.

REC0074_0420_039_01: The Libby Hotel and Baths, 12 Story Hotel and Baths to be erected at the NE corner of Delancey and Chrystie Street, Chrystie Street Elevation. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0420_039_02: Plan of Sub-Cellar, The Libby Hotel and Baths. This plan show the maze of electricity that powered the Russian and Turkish baths. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Community Spaces:

Blocks 418 Lot 1

Sara D. Roosevelt Park is named after President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s mother, the first Presidential mother to be alive for her son’s inauguration since George Washington took office in 1789. One of the first projects completed by Robert Moses after his appointment as Parks Commissioner by Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia in 1934, the plans include wading pools, playgrounds, “comfort stations” (bathrooms), and landscaping. My favorite plans show a diagrammatic view of the park benches, and the textures used for different stones in the paving and landscaping.

REC0074_0418_001_01: Chrystie - Forsythe Park Plots [Sara D. Roosevelt Park], Detail of Foot Bath, Plot Plan of Building C, Park Benches, Curb Enclosures for Vines. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0418_001_02: Chrystie - Forsythe Park Plots [Sara D. Roosevelt Park], Canal to Houston Street, construction plan of plot between Grand and Broome Streets, Block 5, building C. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0418_001_03: Chrystie Forsythe Park Plots [Sara D. Roosevelt Park], Construction details of Foot Bath, Ramp Steps & Scum Gutter of Wading Pools. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Block 415, Lot 18

The University Settlement House was the first settlement house in the U.S. Created by reformers during the Progressive Era of the early 1900s, settlement houses served poor immigrant communities. The plans show the organization’s library, lecture hall, and nursery.

REC0074_0415_018_01: University Settlement House, Plan of 2nd Floor. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0415_018_02: University Settlement House, 3rd Floor Plan. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Block 415, Lot 20

Designed by McKim, Mead and White, the Rivington Street branch of the New York Public Library branch was built in 1904 with funding from philanthropist Andrew Carnegie. The plans show both a custodian apartment and roof garden on the top floor which must have been a nice place to get fresh air and relax while reading. Together with the University Settlement House next door, this block became a hub for community services. The building survived only a few decades before becoming home to a church. It was later converted to condos. 

REC0074_0415_020_03: Front Elevation, Rivington Street Branch of New York Public Library. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0415_020_06: First Floor Plan, Rivington Street Branch of New York Public Library. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0415_020_02: Janitors Floor Plan, Alternate Scheme with Roof Garden, Rivington Street Branch of New York Public Library. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0415_020_01: Alternate Scheme Showing Roof Garden, Rivington Street Branch of New York Public Library. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

New York Public Library, 61 Rivington Street, ca. 1939. 1940s Tax Photograph collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Synagogues:

Block 414, Lot 27

One of many synagogues of the Lower East Side, Kehila Kedosha Janinae is unique as the only Romaniote rite synagogue in the Western Hemisphere. Romaniote refers to a specific tradition of Greek-speaking Judaism. The plans show front facade details, including a Star of David in stained glass, as well as the main floor space, with pews for men, and a mezzanine level for women. The building is a New York City Landmark and on the National Register of Historic Places.

REC0074_0414_027_01: Front elevation of 280 Broome Street (Kehila Kedosha Janinae). Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0414_027_02: Plan of 1st Floor of 280 Broome Street (Kehila Kedosha Janinae). Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0414_027_03: Plan of mezzanine balcony, 280 Broome Street (Kehila Kedosha Janinae). Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

280 Broome Street, ca. 1939. 1940s Tax Photograph collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Block 419, Lot 49

Designed by J. Cleaveland Cady this synagogue is located at the corner of Delancey and Forsyth Streets. Cady also designed the American Museum of Natural History. The plans, dated 1889, show alterations to convert the building into a synagogue for a group of Jewish immigrants from the same town in Lithuania. The plans show the beautiful building facade, including large stained-glass windows and a dome, and the intricate Torah ark at the front of the congregation.

REC0074_0419_049_01: Front Elevation, 126 and 128 Forsyth Street. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0419_049_02: Cross section of Torah ark, 126 and 128 Forsyth Street. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0419_049_03: Front Elevation on Delancey Street at Forsyth Street. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

126 and 128 Forsyth Street, ca. 1939. 1940s Tax Photograph collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Housing:

Block 426, Lot 6

The Bowery was known for its “flophouses,” or places where you could rent a small cubicle by the night. In just one block, the Sunshine Hotel, Bowery Mission, and Salvation Army Hotel all provided this kind of housing. Plans for the Salvation Army Hotel show small rooms packed together to maximize the number of available beds (64-67 per floor, with nine floors of rooms). This type of housing later became known as Single Room Occupancy.

REC0074_0426_006_02: Plan of 2nd to 7th Floors. Alteration to Premises 2231/2 to 225 Bowery for The Salvation Army, 120 West 14th Street. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0426_006_03: Plan of Cellar and 1st Floor. Alteration to Premises 2231/2 to 225 Bowery for The Salvation Army, 120 West 14th Street. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

225 Bowery, Salvation Army, ca. 1939. 1940s Tax Photograph collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Block 430, Lot 10

The First Houses take their name from the fact that they were the first public housing development built in New York (and the United States) by Mayor LaGuardia’s newly created New York City Housing Authority. The property was assembled through a combination of eminent domain and donations by prominent New Yorkers. To keep costs low, builders reused materials from the demolished tenements. While plain in appearance, the First Houses reflect the perceived benefits of open air and large courtyards. The plans show the squat rectangular buildings at elevation, a common floor plan showing four apartments, and the city run health center in one of the first-floor storefronts. Each apartment was spacious and full of amenities especially compared to the cramped tenements they replaced. Every room had a window, and each apartment had separate bathrooms and kitchens, fireproofing, electricity, and radio connectivity. More than 3,000 families applied for just 120 apartments, underscoring the enormous demand for public housing. 

REC0074_0430_010_01: First Houses, East Elevation, Revisions. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0430_010_04: First Houses, Storefront for Department of Health. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0430_010_05: First Houses, Typical Floor Plan. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

 Blocks 430, 431, and 432, Lot 1

The Village View Houses, originally called the FDR Houses, had their groundbreaking ceremony in 1964, on the 25th anniversary of the First Houses, showing how far public housing had come, all while sharing the same block of New York. Built as co-op apartments under the State-sponsored Mitchell-Lama program there are seven buildings with 1,236 units. Plans include a font used on signs throughout the buildings, a common layout for a floor, with ten apartments, and a site plan showing the three blocks the buildings were spread across.

REC0074_0430,431,432_001_03: Franklin D. Roosevelt Houses, Layout for Lettering and Field Office. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0430,431,432_001_05: Franklin D. Roosevelt Houses, General Site Plan. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0430,431,432_001_02: Franklin D. Roosevelt Houses, Typical Floor Plan. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

REC0074_0430,431,432_001_04: Franklin D. Roosevelt Houses, Letters & Numerals for Building Entrances. Manhattan Building Plans Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

A Century of Play: A History of New York City’s Playgrounds

As the summer heats up, we are taking a look at the history of New York City’s public playgrounds through the collections of the NYC Municipal Library. Government reports, manuals, photographs, and planning documents reveal how playgrounds have reflected the city’s changing priorities for more than a century, from public health and crime prevention to patriotism, accessibility, and safety.

“Children love the see-saws,” Views of Tercentenary Celebrations and of Playground Activities, 1914. NYC Municipal Library.

A book titled Grounds For Play: The Movement that Built Playgrounds for the People of New York traces the origins of the playground movement in the late 19th century, when the city had no municipal playgrounds. As immigration surged, families crowded into squalid tenements, leaving children with little place to play beyond the congested streets. Reformers argued that public playgrounds would promote children’s health, provide safe spaces for recreation, and keep them away from the temptations of street life.

Report of the Bureau of Recreation, Department of Parks, Boroughs of Manhattan and Richmond, City of New York, on Public Park Playgrounds and Recreation Centres for the year ending December 31, 1911. NYC Municipal Library.

A 1911 annual report from the newly created Bureau of Recreation illustrates how quickly these ideas took hold. Citing Children’s Court statistics showing that more than 10,000 children were arrested annually for trivial offenses, many stemming from what the report described as “an outburst of suppressed energy” that “if committed in the playgrounds, would not be a violation of law,” the report made the case that recreation was an essential public service. By then, the Bureau oversaw 30 park playgrounds, attendance had doubled over the previous year, and organized athletics had flourished. The Commissioner of Parks proudly described “the largest baseball league in the history of the national game,” in which 6000 boys played a series of elimination tournaments around the city, culminating in the City Park Playground Championship before a crowd of 10,000 spectators at Jasper Park.

Playgrounds in this era reflected the social values of their time. Facilities were divided into separate sections for boys and girls, and activities were organized accordingly. While boys competed in athletic leagues, girls participated in events such as amateur theatricals featuring costumes, song, and dance. Referring to a Thanksgiving week pageant, the Commissioner noted approvingly that “the little ragamuffins had the time of their lives.”

Report of the Bureau of Recreation, Department of Parks, Boroughs of Manhattan and Richmond, City of New York, on Public Park Playgrounds and Recreation Centres for the year ending December 31, 1912. NYC Municipal Library.

A 1914 Board of Education photo album documents that year’s playground activities including the city’s Tercentenary celebrations, commemorating 300 years since the Dutch established the first permanent trading post in New York. Among the festivities was an enormous “Melting Pot,” which girls entered wearing the traditional costumes of other nations. Emerging dressed in red, white, and blue, they were presented as transformed into “real Americans,” a vivid illustration of the era’s attitudes towards immigration and assimilation.

“The Melting Pot of the Nations,” Views of Tercentenary Celebrations and of Playground Activities, 1914. Photograph by Underwood & Underwood. NYC Municipal Library.

During World War I, organized recreation took on an increasingly patriotic character. In September 1918, the Mayor’s Committee of Women on National Defense organized “Patriotic Play Week,” built around the idea that “play promotes patriotism.” The organizers asserted that the program would transform “the liabilities of adolescent leisure into the asset of juvenile citizenship.” The week featured parades, games, exhibitions, and entertainments, culminating in a grand march led by the American flag and the flags of allied nations.

The educational value of recreation remained a central theme into the 1930s. A 1930 Manual for School Playgrounds outlined plans for summer “vacation playgrounds,” designed to prevent idleness and maintain discipline during the long recess. The manual offered detailed guidance on everything from decorating playgrounds and maintaining equipment to organizing tournaments and, notably, instructing supervisors to “seek out bullies and eliminate them.”

Similarly, a 1932 Board of Education fact sheet promoted a summer “play program” combining free play with games, assemblies, drills, civic training, quiet hours, handwork, and housekeeping activities. The stated goal was to guard the children against “the loss of discipline,” “the tendency toward idleness,” and the dangers caused by heat, illness, and traffic accidents.

Recognizing that many neighborhoods still lacked adequate playground facilities, especially in low-income areas, the Department of Public Works launched an innovative “Play Streets” program in East Harlem in 1934. Streets were temporarily closed to traffic and staffed by trained recreation leaders equipped with sports equipment and other supplies for games and crafts. According to the 1937 volume Play Streets and Their Use for Recreational Programs, the initiative sought to not only provide recreation but also to “train the people to use leisure time properly.” Organizers credited the program with giving children “a truly good and healthy play life” while reducing juvenile delinquency.

[Playgrounds in the Five Boroughs], 1941-1961. NYC Municipal Library.

That’s same year, Mayor Fiorello La Guardia consolidated the city’s five separate borough departments into a unified Department of Parks under Commissioner Robert Moses. After World War II, Moses oversaw an unprecedented expansion of neighborhood parks and playgrounds, particularly in the rapidly growing communities on the outskirts of the city. Collections of press releases, plans, and photos along with a volume of construction schedules in the Municipal Library document this postwar playground building boom.

A 1956 report, Jointly Operated Playgrounds, described the long-running partnership between the Department of Parks and the Board of Education to build and operate playgrounds adjacent to public schools. First launched in 1938, this cooperative model continues through the present day with the “Schoolyards to Playgrounds” initiative.

Jointly Operated Playgrounds, 1956. NYC Municipal Library.

By the mid-1960s, however, attention shifted from expansion to quality. In a 1965 report, Mayor John Lindsey lamented, “Today when a park is even halfway decent we are stunned.” He proposed creating new playgrounds in underserved communities while replacing traditional asphalt surfacing and immovable equipment with European-inspired “Adventure Playgrounds,” where children could build, climb, and rearrange play structures themselves. Lindsey also advocated expanding the use of play streets as neighborhood parks.

The 1970s brought another significant shift, as the emerging disability rights movement influenced playground design. In 1975, the Board of Estimate set aside $100,000 for the design of an integrated playground that would serve children both with and without disabilities.  The city published A Playground for All Children in 1976, followed by a companion resource guide in 1978 that established design principles for inclusive playgrounds. The resulting playground, which was the first of its kind in the city, opened in Flushing Meadows Park in 1984.

A Playground for All Children, 1976. NYC Municipal Library.

By the 1990s, public discussion increasingly centered on playground safety. A 1993 report by Comptroller Elizabeth Holtzman noted that the city had paid $7 million in liability claims for playground injuries between fiscal years 1988 and 1992. Inspectors found that every playground they visited contained at least one condition that failed to meet Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) guidelines or otherwise posed a potential hazard.

A 1998 report by the New York Public Interest Research Group (NYPIRG) documented additional safety concerns, including deteriorated equipment, inadequate protective surfacing, chipped lead paint, and excessive fall heights. The report urged the city to adopt national safety guidelines and encouraged parents, educators, and park personnel to use standardized inspection checklists to identify hazards and advocate for improvements.

Today, the Municipal Library continues to collect and preserve this history through the Government Publications Portal (GPP), where city agencies now submit publications electronically rather than in print. Recent additions include a 2022 estimate of the cost of extending public access to school playgrounds outside of school hours (for those not already participating in the Schoolyards to Playgrounds program), and a 2025 report on playground inspections.

Taken together, these records trace more than the history of playgrounds. They document a century of changing ideas about children, public space, and the many roles that play has been expected to serve in public life.