A Century and a Half of Dining Out in NYC

As NYC Restaurant Week winds down, we are taking a looking back at more than 150 years of dining out in the city through the lens of guidebooks and other historic publications in the collections of the Municipal Library.

Delmonico’s, King’s Handbook of New York City, 1895. NYC Municipal Library.

In a chapter on restaurants, the 1868 Secrets of the Great City by Edward Winslow Martin cautions the reader that “the cooking, at the majority of restaurants, is unhealthy, and intoxicating liquids are sold, to an extraordinary extent.” Because entire families “live in rooms” and are thus required to dine in restaurants, the establishments are characterized by “a looseness of manners” and a “similar defect in morals.” Even worse, the uptown restaurants are largely patronized by the “disreputable classes,” and a “virtuous woman is in constant danger of being insulted should she choose to enter one of them.” 

The heavily illustrated 1895 King’s Handbook of New York City steers away from moralizing in its snapshot of the booming dining scene, praising the “abundance of restaurants and cafes.” It divides them into categories that include “cheap saloons,” “dry-goods-stores restaurants,” “table d’hote dinners,” and a “novelty” section that lists Chinese, Jewish, Russian, and Italian establishments. The guide’s top praise is reserved for Delmonico’s, “known all over the world,” especially its Beaver and William Street location. A century later, the NYC Landmarks Designation Report for that 8-story Delmonico’s building calls it “one of the finest surviving late-nineteenth-century buildings in Manhattan's financial district.”

Luchow’s, 110 East 14th Street, ca. 1939. 1940s Tax Photo Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

In a more wistful tone, the 1925 Restaurants of New York warns the reader that a favored eatery might disappear between visits—though unlike in our own time, it might be replaced by “the yawning depths of a subway excavation.” The guide highlights local color and stories, with a notable entry on Luchow’s at 110 East 14th Street. It paints a vibrant scene, with “prosperous clientele, with many strong German faces, speaking their native tongue with Otto or Fritz, the waiter, and enjoying the robust fare of the Fatherland.” Luchow’s remained a beloved staple for over a century before closing in 1986; its 14th Street building was demolished in 1995.

55 Grove Street, ca. 1939. Romany Marie’s Tavern. 1940s Tax Photo Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The introduction to Dining, Wining, and Dancing in New York, published in 1938, asserts that despite the wide range of restaurants in NYC and the common practice of dining publicly, most New Yorkers are only familiar with a few favorite haunts, unlike the guide’s author Scudder Middleton, a true “eater-around.” His detailed recommendations are described in chapters that range from “10 Restaurants of the Premiere Order” and “Grand Hotels” to “All Over the Map” (international fare) and “Down in the Village,” where he finds that the bohemian atmosphere is a thing of the past, absent since realtors began “jacking up the rent.” For those seeking vestiges of the old ambiance in the now commercialized district, he recommends Romany Marie’s at 55 Grove Street, run by an old-timer who “tries nobly to keep the myth of Bohemianism going.”

In 1939, two very different guidebooks captured the culinary scene. The catchily titled Where to Dine in Thirty-Nine by Diana Ashley contains a star-based pricing system, with a warning that a 3-star “expensive” dinner “will be at least $2.” Restaurants are listed alphabetically and indexed for neighborhood and nationality. Under “R,” you’ll find the modest Café Royal on Second Avenue, “frequented by Jewish actors and writers like Paul Muni, Eddie Cantor, Fannie Hurst,” and the upscale Rainbow Room, “the highest (65 floors up) restaurant in the world in every way.” The Rainbow Room was landmarked in 2012 as “one of New York City’s most elegant—and elevated—restaurant interiors.”

The New York Exchange for Women’s Work at 541 Madison Avenue had its own restaurant and bar. 1940s Tax Photo Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Also in 1939, Vogue editor Marjorie Hillis published New York, Fair or No Fair: A Guide for the Woman Vacationist, with a title that references that’s year’s World’s Fair. In sections like “Breakfast to Tea” and “Cocktails and Dinner,” Hill recommends dining spots such as the New York Exchange for Women’s Work at 541 Madison Avenue for “delicious dinners as well as lunches and tea.” She advises her readers not to frequent bars “in a solitary state,” lest they look “either fast or forlorn.” For social outings to hotspots where unaccompanied women are not permitted, she recommends calling the “Guide Escort Service at 116 East Fifty-Eighth Street,” whose young men “all have college educations, perfect manners, and impeccable evening clothes.”

Where to Eat in New York, 1948. NYC Municipal Library. 

The 1948 guide Where to Eat in New York by Robert Dana, food columnist for the New York World-Telegram, embraces the city’s diversity. Its “Traveling Epicure” section includes the Holland House Taverne, Russian Kretchma, Mecca Restaurant (Syrian), Miyako (Japanese), East India Restaurant, and Semon’s, said to be “the only Brazilian restaurant in the United States.”

In 1955, Esquire’s restaurant editor Harry Botsford compiled New York’s 100 Best Restaurants. His picks range from Lee’s at 36 Pell Street, “located in romantic, colorful, and mysterious Chinatown,” to the enduring Oyster Bar in Grand Central, where “customers consume some 10,000,000 oysters in a given eight-month period.”

A 1957 Copp’s Guide to New York City for the Armed Forces features the famous Automats, celebrated for their “excellent food and coffee,” as well as the “big thrill” felt by for visitors when they “drop in their nickles [sic] and get their food out of jail.”  

New York’s 100 Best Restaurants, 1955. NYC Municipal Library. 

In 1964, a young Arthur Frommer published a Practical Guide to New York, which lists 80 of his favorite eateries. He praises the city’s “multi-racial, multi-national character” that “makes an adventure of dining out in New York.” The slim paperback still contains its discount coupons, including one for the multiple locations of Longchamps Restaurants. (It won’t be of much use though, as the coupon expired in 1965 and the upscale chain filed for bankruptcy in 1975.) 

Discount coupon for Longchamps Restaurants, New York, A Practical Guide, 1964. NYC Municipal Library. 

The compact 1966 Hackmen’s and Chauffeur’s Guide, “published annually for the convenience of the professional driver,” features 88 pages of alphabetical listings of restaurants throughout the boroughs (minus Staten Island) interspersed with occasional advertisements. There is no description or editorializing here, just a name and address along with a cross street. 

Beyond the menus and dining rooms, the NYC Department of Health (DOH) has long played a role in shaping the city’s dining scene. A 1954 training manual for Grade II Health Inspectors details the inspection protocols for the over 22,000 restaurants then under the purview of the “Retail Division” of the department’s Environmental Sanitation Services.  

In 1995, the Public Advocate’s Office published Food for Thought: An Investigation of the Accessibility of Restaurant Inspection Reports. It found that despite the occurrence of annual inspections, it was “very difficult for New York City residents and tourists to get their hands on a restaurant’s DOH inspection report,” and only 18% of restaurants produced the report upon request, as required by law. The report urged the city to create an automated restaurant telephone hotline, adding, presciently, that “DOH could also post this information on the Internet.”  

Today, diners can check inspection scores online through ABCEats, the city’s restaurant lookup tool that now includes over 29,000 establishments.

Victory Day in NYC

Victory celebrations, Times Square, August 15, 1945. Department of Sanitation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

When Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia received word of the Japanese surrender late in the day on Tuesday, August 14, 1945, he rushed home to Gracie Mansion where he delivered a fifteen-minute broadcast on WNYC. Anticipating the end-of-war news, WNYC equipment had been installed at the Mayor’s residence the preceding Friday.

According to the report in the next day’s Herald Tribune, LaGuardia, “his voice hesitant and choked with emotion,” said that the “Japanese capitulation had thrust upon the United States the greatest responsibility that has ever come to any people.”

The Mayor’s clerical staff pasted the Tribune news story, along with several others into a scrapbook. Preserved in the Municipal Archives, the news clipping scrapbooks have served as an important research resource for topics in mayoral administrations from Mitchel to Koch.

Mayor LaGuardia scrapbook 282, p. 24. NYC Municipal Archives.

Mayor LaGuardia’s scrapbook also includes the complete text of his “Victory Day Proclamation” printed by The New York Times on August 15, 1945. “Whereas the President of the United States has announced the cessation of hostilities in the Pacific, … and whereas the World War which was thrust upon us by the attack on Pearl Harbor Dec. 7, 1941, … has now completely ended… Now, therefore, I, Mayor of the City of New York, do hereby declare and proclaim Aug. 15 as Victory Day, and order all departments of the city government except services necessary for the protection of life, health and property, and the care of the sick and infirm to be closed on said day, and on Aug. 16, and to call upon all public places, stores and offices to display the national colors, and call on all citizens to repair to their respective places of worship and there give thanks to Almighty God for his divine guidance, and for his will that such complete victory has come to the forces of democracy in this world.”

Mayor LaGuardia scrapbook 282, p. 23. NYC Municipal Archives.

“Celebrate and be happy,” the Mayor told his fellow-citizens, the New York Times noted in their report of the day’s events. And celebrate they did. The Archives collection of photographs from the Department of Sanitation provides engaging illustrations of the revelry. Or, more precisely, its aftermath. As these examples attest, the Sanitation photographer captured jubilant scenes in Times Square and mid-town, and the equally dramatic clean-up work.

Victory celebrations, Times Square, August 15, 1945. Department of Sanitation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Other clippings in the Mayor’s scrapbook add details to the Victory Day story. Perhaps Victory Days would be a better description. On Thursday, August 16, the Times reported, “New York gave an encore last night of the delirious performance it staged Tuesday night.” The article continued, “Following the now familiar pattern Times Square again was the heart of the celebration.... police estimated 100,000 persons... the merrymakers tooted horns, service men exacted kisses from strolling girls as tribute for their part in the victory, the inevitable showers of confetti and streamers fell in abundance... those celebrating on the streets were noisy but for the most part orderly.” 

Seeking other references to Victory Day in New York City brings researchers to Mayor LaGuardia’s Sunday radio broadcasts on WNYC. Typed transcripts of the programs can be found in the Mayor LaGuardia subject files preserved in the Archives. On Sunday, August 12, 1945, two days before his victory proclamation, LaGuardia began his remarks by saying “We all had to exercise patience this morning. I had so hoped that by this time the last word in the Pacific would have been received.”  He continued on about the war, and then announced, “This war is going to end with the new bomb.”  He then launched into a lengthy discussion about the “new,” i.e. atomic, bomb.

Victory celebrations, Times Square, August 15, 1945. Department of Sanitation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

In typical fashion his speech covered wide-ranging topics such as gambling, poultry, rabies, and the new East River Cooperative housing development. He warned listeners about a “scam” in Times Square where photographers preyed on tourists, servicemen and women in particular, taking their picture for a dollar and promising to mail the print. And of course, according to the Mayor, the print never materialized. 

Victory celebrations, Times Square, August 15, 1945. Department of Sanitation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The radio broadcast transcripts have served researchers in the Archives for years. What may be less well known, are the supporting “correspondence” files the Mayor and his staff assembled for each broadcast. On August 12, when LaGuardia spoke about the “new” bomb he went on to say, “It is not the first time that a new weapon has won a war in a short time.” The Mayor told the story of a war between Prussia and Austria, and “certain minor German states” in 1866. Turning to the “correspondence” file for the August 12 broadcast, researchers will find detailed notes and sources to support everything in his talk. For the section on the 1866 war, the Mayor’s staff reached out to the Municipal Library. The file contains a detailed two-page, typed summary of the war prepared by a librarian.

The following Sunday broadcast, on August 19, the Mayor began his talk with a prayer of peace. He then said, “This is the first Sunday that I broadcast to you in peacetime. My first broadcast I shall never forget. It was on December 7th – Pearl Harbor Day. Yes, we were unprepared. It was around five or six o’clock in the afternoon. I have been talking to you every week ever since.”

Victory celebrations, Times Square, August 15, 1945. Department of Sanitation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

His talk continued in a very personal fashion. “I think we have come to know each other better, and you know, it is nice to visit with you every Sunday. But now that the War is over, as I said the other day, we cannot afford to relax or to be idle any more. We must get back to work. There has been a load lifted, the strain is over. I know how you feel. I know all of a sudden I feel tired – so tired.” But he rallied and moved on to talk about the future, describing all the work that needs to be done. Finally, he concluded: “Now, please remember, a great responsibility has come to us. We now have the leadership of the world, and that is a great responsibility. And here in New York City, the biggest City in the world, we have the leadership of the entire country. We worked so well together during the war and we must continue to do so now with the problems ahead of us. And remember, it will still require a great deal of Patience and Fortitude.”

Victory celebrations, Times Square, August 15, 1945. Department of Sanitation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Victory celebrations, Times Square, August 15, 1945. Department of Sanitation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Victory celebrations, Times Square, August 15, 1945. Department of Sanitation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.


With thanks to WNYC Archivist (retired) Andy Lanset. For more on WNYC’s reporting from that day, https://www.wnyc.org/story/v-j-day-wnyc-behind-scenes-look/

Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection

Recent For the Record articles have advertised on-line publication of “resource records” for significant Municipal Archives collections. On the Waterfront: A Dip Into New York City’s Most Valued but Least Understood Real Estate highlighted the waterfront survey map series. “A True and Perfect Inventory” - The Municipal Archives Collection of 18th and 19th-century Estate Records, Part One and “A True and Perfect Inventory” - The Municipal Archives Collection of 18th and 19th-century Estate Records, Part Two described the estate record collection.

Fireman and two Dalmation dogs, n.d. Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Resource records provide complete information about collections, including finding guides, inventories and links to digital assets. This week, For the Record focuses attention on the resource record published for the Fire Department of New York (FDNY) Photograph Collection.

Fire in progress, location unknown, n.d. Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Transferred to the Municipal Archives in the 1980s, the images consist of 720 black and white photographs, the bulk of which are glass negatives. There are also a small number of vintage prints, glass transparencies, and color negatives and prints. Although the date range is 1900 to 1969, most pre-date 1931.

Not surprisingly, the pictures depict New York City Fire Department personnel, facilities, apparatus, and fire scenes. There are a few instances, however, where relevance to the Fire Department is not obvious. For example, there are several photographs of the White House in Washington D.C. Based on the presumed date, 1901, it seems possible that the Fire Department sent a photographer to document the inauguration of New Yorker and former Police Department Commissioner, Theodore Roosevelt.

Statue of Andrew Jackson with White House in background, Washington, D.C., 1901. Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The good news is that the glass-plate format provides crystal sharp images; the less-than-good news is that any extant caption information did not survive transfer to the Archives. Processing archivists identified the pictures as much as possible based on clues such as license plates which previously included the year when the State issued the tag.

Firemen demonstrate resuscitation techniques, n.d. Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The bulk of the pictures in the collection pre-date establishment of the Fire Department Photographic Unit in 1956. The pictures are apparently “official” in the sense that the photographer must have been employed by or in some way connected to the Fire Department. One photographer, E.A. Waterman, has been positively identified as responsible for some of the pictures.

Although relatively few in number (less than one thousand) compared to most Municipal Archives photograph collections, and somewhat light on descriptive information, their glass-plate format and often dramatic scenes make it an exceptionally valuable collection. Take a minute to view these examples and then take a dive into the full collection.

Horse-drawn Steamer, n.d. Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Fire Department Headquarters, Brooklyn, n.d. Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

1937 Ward La France, Searchlight No. 1. Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Fire and Police Department Baseball Teams, with Mayor James J. Walker, City Hall, ca. 1926. Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Fire Company, location unknown, n.d. Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Fire Department Band, City Hall, n.d. Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Fire in progress at Dow’s Stores, New York Dock Company, Pacific Street, Brooklyn, n.d. Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Fire at the Fulton and Flatbush Storage Company, 437-445 Carlton Ave., Brooklyn, N.Y., n.d. Fire Department of New York Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The Unique Correspondence of Mayor William J. Gaynor

If you’ve communicated in writing to a government official, chances are good that you received a generic, somewhat non-committal response. Frequently the response is a form letter sent to every other person who raised the same issue. That is the standard operating procedure and has been for decades.

Interborough Rapid Transit, Contact 2. Illustration from Silver Connections, A Fresh Perspective on the New York Area Subway Systems, Volume III, by Philip Ashforth Coppola, 1994. Municipal Library.

That was not always the case. Take, for example, Mayor William J. Gaynor’s correspondence with sundry New Yorkers. Gaynor was elected mayor in 1909 and served until 1913, when he died from complications related to an assassination attempt three years prior. His previous service as an Appellate Judge in New York’s Second Department, apparently did not confer upon him the so-called “judicial temperament.” Initially nominated by Tammany Hall, Gaynor split from the machine and launched an independent campaign for reelection. Prior to the 1913 election, he passed away while on a trip to Europe.

Mayor Gaynor may be known for many things: surviving an assassination attempt and rejecting Tammany Hall’s guidance. But, he was not known for being reticent or mealy mouthed. His correspondence with sundry New Yorkers offers proof of impolitic, perhaps even rude, responses to suggestions, inquiries and other mail. Each of the responses is specific, unique and very pointed. The missives are carbon copies of typed letters dictated by the Mayor that are preserved on very transparent paper called onion skin. 

On March 16,1910, Gaynor responded to a request for a contribution from the New York Anti-Saloon League with a resounding rejection. “I beg to say in answer to your letter of March 11th that I cannot subscribe $10 for a box and I think it very bad taste to ask me to do so. If I gave money in response to all the similar calls that are made on me I would be bankrupt in short order, and it is strange to me that there are so many people who do not know better than to ask me for money.”

Correspondence, July 2, 1913, onion-skin. Mayor William Gaynor Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

On June 30, 1911, he wrote a pithy note to a representative of the First Mortgage Guarantee Company. “It is useless to send registered letters to my house. I am there only during the night. I do not receive registered letters and will not do so. Such caution is very troublesome and wholly unnecessary in my judgment.”  

Gaynor was supportive of organized labor and there are several notes to City Commissioners reminding them to use union labor. He struck a somewhat different tone in a letter to a New York Union Printer named John S. Lewis in 1913. “My views about Union labor are too well known to need to be repeated at this time. If you had kept track of things you must know that. I do not believe in people beginning to talk about how much they are in favor of Union labor about election time. Acts count for more than words. Such talk when an election is coming on is cheap.”

Tablet. Illustration from Silver Connections, A Fresh Perspective on the New York Area Subway Systems, Volume III, by Philip Ashforth Coppola, 1994. Municipal Library.

New York State law prohibited public games, liquor consumption and selling food on Sundays, in deference to a Christian belief that this was a day of rest. The Mayor received various notes from people complaining about ball playing on Sunday. He was, characteristically, unsympathetic. To the Reverend Joseph Keevil of Brooklyn he wrote a long response. It began, “Your letter of July 17 is at hand. You advise me of an opinion of the Attorney General on baseball playing on Sunday. The opinion adds nothing new to the legal question. You also say to me as follows: “In the light of this decision it is clear many of the baseball games played in this city every Sunday is in clear violation of the law.”

You add as follows: “We do most respectfully request you to enforce the law.”

“It may be I should correct your inadvertent mistakes of grammar and spelling, but I hesitate to take that liberty.

I do not know of any illegal ball game, golf game or any other game being played in this city on Sunday. You specify none. You only say generally that many of them are in violation of the law and that it is a disgrace to the city. If you know of any you ought to specify it to me if you want me to help prosecute the offenders.”

I.R.T. Contract #2, Brooklyn, 1908. Tablet. Illustration from Silver Connections, A Fresh Perspective on the New York Area Subway Systems, Volume III, by Philip Ashforth Coppola, 1994. Municipal Library.

During his term, the City was considering building more subway lines and expanding those that existed. There was a policy debate around expanding the existing Interborough system versus establishing a new TriBorough system and whether the City or private operators would manage the systems. Several folders of correspondence attest to the significance of the matter, which was not resolved during Gaynor’s term.

The South Side Board of Trade, a group of Bath Beach businessmen, sent a lengthy letter supporting construction of the Triborough route and cited Gaynor’s campaign statements in support of building more subway systems. The Mayor responded with a lengthy letter in which he acknowledged support for building subways and disavowed support for the Triborough. “Your notion that I ever made any pledge to build the tri-borough route has not a leg to stand on…. I do not think that you know enough on the subject to say how you would vote if you were in my place… What you do not know about this subway situation would fill a book…”

On November 21, 1910, Gaynor signed a letter he had dictated for assistants to type, addressed to a Mr. Kraft who had questioned a proposed subway expansion. Gaynor posed several questions: “What is the tri-borough route which you mention? Do you know where it runs, how much it would cost and how long it would take to build? Do you know how much available credit the city has to devote to subways? In a word do you know anything on the subject at all? Of  course you understand that I have to deal with facts and not with more talk. Begin to think a little yourself, and study the maps, and study the city’s credit, and pay less attention to sensational newspapers. You ought to have opinions of your own if you are an intelligent man.”

Then, as now, elected officials sparred with the media. In Gaynor’s case, the nemesis was The New York Journal owned by Randolph Hearst. In multiple letters he wrote that the correspondent was deceived by evil publications. For example, a January 31, 1911, response to a J. S. Mencken, Esq, he wrote, “Your letter of no date is at hand. You are very grievously misinformed. I am breaking no promise that I ever made with regard to subways. I think you are reading some lying newspaper.”

As a vote neared at the Board of Estimate, the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants’ Association proposed establishing a Citizen’s Committee to review the subway proposals and produce a report that would “assist the public to a clear understanding of the several alternative propositions which are pending, and to crystalize public opinion and sentiment in favor of some definite solution of the problem. The public is intensely interested, but at present is hopelessly confused and uncertain as to what should be done,” wrote the President of the Merchants’ Association to Seth Low. Low had served as the Mayor of both the independent City of Brooklyn and the consolidated City of New York. He was to be the Chair of this committee. Even this seemingly routine event provoked an irascible response from the Mayor. First, he wrote to the associations that he had nor requested the committee be created. “I did not request that it be done. On the contrary, you approached me with the suggestion that it be done and I acquiesced in it.”

During the month of December, 1910, the committee met, reviewed the relevant expert documentation, financial notes and official testimony and issued a summary report at the end of the month. This prompted Mayor Gaynor to send a laudatory thank you letter to former Mayor Low. “ I had not supposed it possible to compress so much work into so short a space of time. The comprehensive character of the reports cannot fail to be of great service to this community and to public officials. That such a body of men should devote days of continuous work to the study of this difficult problem of subways is another proof that we have many among us who have at heart the public weal and comfort above all else.”

And then, as if he couldn’t contain himself, he nitpicked. “I note that you open your report by the statement that the committee was appointed at my request. This is an error. It was done at the request of….  They made the suggestion to me that they would like to proceed to do so, and asked if it would be agreeable to the Mayor. Of course I acquiesced but I am not entitled to the credit of having suggested or requested the appointment of the committee. Let credit go where it belongs.” This was a point he had addressed with Low in early December and somehow it disturbed Gaynor greatly that the committee was attributed to him.

Low, though, was not one to back down. The former mayor replied to Gaynor, “I did not forget, of course, what you said to me in regard to the appointment of the Committee: but, inasmuch as Mr. Hepburn and Mr. Towne in their letter of appointment used the expression that the Committee had been appointed at your request, I thought that it was legitimate to assume that, while the idea had not originated with you the action taken was, nevertheless, at your request. I am hoping that you welcome, rather than otherwise, the opportunity which my letter gave to you to make clear publicly your relation to the matter.”

That seems to have ended the matter.  In late January, Mayor Gaynor wrote a note of appreciation to the head of the Merchants’ Association, Henry R. Towne that perfectly illustrates his directness. “I have at last found time to read the report of your special committee on the question of competition of public service corporations and regard it as very able and timely. But what is the use in having men among us who understand things so well, if we elect men to office who do not know the A.B.C. of the matter and throw the whole thing to the winds?  How quick such a committee would dispose of the subway matter wisely and well, and without allowing any right or advantage of the city to be lost or thrown away.”

William J. Gaynor died at age 65 on September 10, 1913. In 1926, Mayor James J. Walker presided over a ceremony dedicating a monument to the late Mayor on the Brooklyn approach to the Manhattan Bridge, May 12, 1926. Photographer: Eugene deSalignac. Department of Bridges Plant & Structures Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Mayor Gaynor’s correspondence has been the subject of previous For the Record articles. Readers are invited to continue enjoying his writing style in The Pleasures and Profits of Walking, A False Police Report on a Boys Arrest, Mayor Gaynor and Children in the City.

The Mayflower II

What do the musical comedy star Ethel Merman, a troupe of young people dressed in “native” American garb, one live turkey, and a black and white cat named Felix have in common? They all played a role in the festivities celebrating arrival of the replica ship, Mayflower II, in New York City on July 2, 1957. 

The Mayflower II sailing into New York Harbor, July 1, 1957. Department of Marine and Aviation Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The sea voyage of the original ship Mayflower, in 1620, transporting religious dissenters, the “Pilgrims,” from England to New England has been a foundational legend in American history. The journey of the replica ship, Mayflower II, in 1957, is perhaps less well known.  

The idea for the new ship developed on both sides of the Atlantic in the years following World War II. In England, a journalist and public relations man, Warwick Charlton, established Project Mayflower Ltd. in 1951. At the same time, officials at the Plimoth Plantation in Massachusetts (now known as Plimoth Patuxet) had a similar idea to research and design a ship the size and type of the original Mayflower. The two organizations eventually joined together to build the sailing vessel that became known as the Mayflower II. 

The Mayflower II sailing into New York Harbor, July 1, 1957. Department of Marine and Aviation Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

In 1956, when New York City Mayor Robert F. Wagner learned of the project, he wrote Warwick Charlton and suggested that the new ship should make a stop in New York City before it berthed permanently at the Plimoth Plantation. “It is needless for me to remind you that there is no place in the world like the facilities of the seaport of New York City ... and in the summer receives millions of tourists and visitors.”   

A carbon copy of Wagner’s letter can be found in the correspondence files of his Commerce and Public Events office. Grover Whelan, the City’s long-time official “Greeter,” had retired in 1953, but his work had been continued under the able leadership of Richard C. Patterson. Appointed by Mayor Wagner as Commissioner of the Department of Commerce and Public Events in 1954, “Ambassador” Patterson and his staff organized the festivities, including a ticker-tape parade, to welcome the Mayflower II and her crew.  

On April 20, 1957, the Mayflower II set sail from Plymouth, England, bound for Massachusetts. Captain Alan J. Villiers, and his crew of thirty-three men, and one black and white cat, “Felix,” arrived at Plymouth, Massachusetts, on June 13, 1957. 

Two weeks later, on July 2, 1957, the vessel sailed into New York Harbor. The front page of the New York Times the following day described the scene. “A salty-looking crew of adventurers received a cheering ticker-tape reception on lower Broadway at noon yesterday. They were the deeply tanned crew of the Mayflower II and, in their Pilgrim garb, they looked as if they might have just stepped off a Hollywood movie set.”  

Costumed “native” Americans on the dock awaiting arrival of the Mayflower II, July 1, 1957. Department of Marine and Aviation Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The Times story failed to mention that not only did the Mayflower II crew dress in colonial-era garb, but a small troupe of young people, wearing “native” costumes greeted arrival of the vessel. The Times reporter also apparently missed the ceremonial presentation of a live turkey by the “native” group to ship’s Captain Villiers. The New York City Department of Marine and Aviation (DMA) photographer captured the scene. There is no documentation regarding the ultimate disposition of the gift-turkey. 

Captain Alan J. Villiers, of the Mayflower II, wearing “Pilgrim” clothing, accepting gift of a live turkey from costumed “native” American, July 1, 1957. Department of Marine and Aviation Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

However, the Times did report on Mayor Wagner’s brief remarks on the steps of City Hall upon arrival of Captain Villiers and his crew after they paraded up Broadway from the Battery. “Of all the ships that have ever brought people to our shores, no one of them has meant more to America than the pilgrim ship Mayflower. For us, the Mayflower is at once the vehicle and the symbol of American freedom.” Wagner continued, “There were human beings aboard the first Mayflower . . . who were inspired by a dream of political and religious liberty.” And, he added, “In the centuries that followed, our nation’s destiny and greatness was shaped by millions of immigrants and refugees from oppression who displayed the same courage and determination.” The Public Events folder in the Wagner collection contains a complete transcript of the remarks, along with additional correspondence and event planning documents. 

At the conclusion of the day’s ceremonies, the Mayflower II sailed up the Hudson River to Pier 81 at West Forty-first street. According to the Times, the Mayflower II and exhibits, “will be opened to the public today at 10:30 A.M. by Ethel Merman, the musical comedy star. Tickets will be sold for 95 cents for adults and 42 cents for children.” 

Mayor Robert Wagner shakes hands with Mayflower II Captain Alan J. Villiers, City Hall, July 2, 1957. Crewman Andrew Anderson-Bell holds ship’s cat, “Felix,” the only feline known to have participated in a ticker-tape parade. Department of Marine and Aviation Photograph Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The Mayflower remained berthed at Pier 81 and open to the public until November 18, 1957. An estimated 500,000 visitors explored the vessel during its stay in New York City. Two weeks later, on Thanksgiving Day, November 27, the ship was officially turned over to Plimoth Plantation where it became part of a permanent restoration of the earliest Pilgrim settlement in America. More recently, after a three-year restoration, in October 2020, the Mayflower II once again welcomed visitors. 

Celebrating Disability Pride Month: A Century of Progress Toward Access and Inclusion in NYC

Department of Public Charities and Hospitals, Roosevelt Island (New York, N.Y.), 1942. New York City Municipal Archives.

This July, in celebration of Disability Pride Month and the anniversary of the landmark Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), we’re showcasing selections from the Municipal Library that trace New York City’s evolving journey toward accessibility, inclusion, and justice for people with disabilities.

The story begins nearly a century ago, with a 1932 issue of the University of the State of New York Bulletin titled “The Organization of Special Classes for Crippled Children.” While the outdated language is jarring today, the article also reflects flawed assumptions—that children with disabilities were inherently unable to thrive in standard classrooms.

By 1941, the tone had shifted. In Physically Handicapped Children in New York City, the NYC Board of Education highlighted the city’s pioneering work in disability education. Despite still drawing lines between “normal” and “handicapped” children, the publication promoted a more forward-thinking vision: rather than isolating students with disabilities, it advocated adapting existing programs to support their success alongside their peers.

It’s the Law: Rights of People with Disabilities. New York City Mayor’s Office for the Handicapped, Spring 1989. NYC Municipal Library.

Momentum built in the 1970s following the passage of federal legislation like Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act and the Education for All Handicapped Children Act. These transformative laws outlawed discrimination in federally funded educational settings and demanded sweeping changes. In response, the Mayor’s Office for the Handicapped (now the Mayor’s Office for People with Disabilities) released The New Federal Education Laws for Handicapped Children: Promises, Programs, Problems in 1978. The introduction called the implications “so vast… they will alter the lives of every one of us.”

One year later, the same office published A Right and Not a Privilege, a bold declaration of empowerment and advocacy for what it called the “emerging handicapped minority.” In 1989, just before the ADA became law, the city issued It’s the Law: Rights of People with Disabilities, a guide to federal, state, and local protections that armed New Yorkers with tools to fight discrimination in jobs, housing, education, and beyond.

New York City wasn’t waiting for federal mandates. With Local Law 58 in 1987, the city required accessible design in all new construction and major renovations. A 1991 guide from the Department of Buildings, How to Work with Local Law 58/87, laid out the blueprint for barrier-free design, work that would later be integrated into the 2014 Construction Code.

AccessibleNYC. New York City Mayor’s Office for People with Disabilities, 2021.

Following the passage of the ADA in 1990, the city continued to push forward. In 1992, the MTA and NYC Transit released their “Key Station Plan,” outlining steps to make subway stations accessible. That same year, the Landmarks Preservation Commission published Access to Preservation, a thoughtful approach to making historic buildings ADA-compliant without compromising their architectural integrity.

Today, progress continues. Since 2016, the Mayor’s Office for People with Disabilities has issued AccessibleNYC, an annual report tracking efforts to build a more inclusive city. The 2021 edition captured the evolving mindset: “While there is still so much more work to be done… there is a greater recognition that making the city more accessible for people with disabilities benefits everyone—with disabilities and without.”

From exclusion to empowerment, these documents tell a powerful story of transformation—of a city moving ever closer to equality not just in law, but in practice and spirit.