Orchard Beach

New Yorkers may remember the 2020 Memorial Day weekend as the year they did not go swimming at City beaches. In the ongoing effort to contain the spread of the Covid-19 virus, City beaches will remain closed to many beach-goers, including swimmers, on what is the unofficial start of summer. Perhaps they will open later in the summer when it becomes safer.  

Can’t swim in the ocean? The two million pictures in the Municipal Archives photograph gallery are always a good distraction. 

Orchard Beach, aerial view, June 15, 1937. Still under construction in the summer of 1937, a year after its official dedication, the white sands of the new 1.06-mile crescent-shaped Orchard Beach connected Hunter Island (foreground) with Rodman’s Neck. Parks Commissioner Robert Moses disliked the pebbly gray sand of Long Island Sound and had the fine white sand of the Rockaways dredged and hauled by barge to his new beach in Pelham Bay Park. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Bathhouses, Pelham Bay Park, April 9, 1934. Pelham Bay Park had been a popular summer destination with hundreds of bungalows and bathhouses. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Searching the gallery for “beach” photographs brought up dozens of evocative images—many, not surprisingly—in the Department of Parks and Recreation (DPR) collection. And of those, the vast majority document the work of Robert Moses, New York’s legendary “Master Builder.” Appointed by Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia as Commissioner of the Department of Parks in 1934, Moses served through four mayoral administrations until 1960. Widely criticized today for destroying neighborhoods by routing highways through them, Moses also was responsible for creating pools, parks and beaches throughout the five Boroughs.

This selection of photographs from the gallery features Orchard Beach, one of eleven new swimming pools and beaches Moses opened in the summer of 1936. Located on the east side of Pelham Bay in Pelham Bay Park, Orchard Beach was built with millions of federal Works Progress Administration dollars and workers. Often called “The Bronx Riviera,” Orchard Beach is a superb example of Moses’ reputation for superior design and ‘getting things done.’

Federally-funded WPA workers demolish existing structures and the retaining in Pelham Bay Park, April 9, 1934. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia and Parks Commissioner Robert Moses (seated at right), at the dedication ceremony for Orchard Beach, July 25, 1936. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Although only one-third completed, Orchard Beach was the eighth of eleven new city aquatic recreational centers formally opened during the summer of 1936. In his remarks at the dedication ceremony Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia addressed those who denounced the WPA relief program as a wasteful ‘make work’ government boondoggle: “We have heard of criticism from time to time of relief work as a way of meeting depression problems. Well, I believe relief work has become an American institution.  It is the American way of meeting the emergency relief problem. It is a way of treating the relief problem in a sound and sensible way, in that it gives the community something in return for aid which it extends.” 

The “something in return” the Mayor saluted that July morning would eventually include an 8,000-car parking lot, a magnificent bathhouse with locker rooms, restaurants and shops, plaza, and boardwalk as well as parkland, nature trails, picnic areas, playgrounds, an athletic field, tennis courts, boat harbors, and the beach itself.

Aerial view of Orchard Beach, the pavilion and vast parking lot, June 24, 1938. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Orchard Beach Pavilion, April 4, 1939. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Architect Aymar Embury II (1880-1966) designed the 200,000-square foot pavilion as the centerpiece of the beach complex.  Moses had wanted it to blend in with the hilly, wooded landscape behind it and had to plead with the WPA for approval of Embury’s colonnaded classic design solution.  Embury went on to collaborate with Moses on several other projects including the Central Park Zoo, Prospect Park Zoo, and Jacob Riis Park. 

In 2006, the Landmarks Preservation Commission designated Orchard Beach as a landmark calling it “among the most remarkable public recreational facilities ever constructed in the United States.” In the designation report, Landmarks described the concrete, brick, and limestone bathhouse:  “… embellished with tile and terrazzo finishes, [it] features two monumental colonnades that radiate outward from a raised central terrace. The crescent-shaped promenade, which follows the curve of the beach, is paved with hexagonal blocks and edged by cast-iron railings evoking a nautical motif.”  

Orchard Beach Pavilion upper terrace, June 15, 1940. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Boat harbor, Orchard Beach, 1939. Rowboats available for rent by the hour were another amenity for Orchard Beach visitors. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Arriving for a day at Orchard Beach, 1939. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Shorts and a t-shirt would not have been considered appropriate attire for the journey to the beach in the 1930s. Beach goers were expected to bring their bathing suit, or rent one, and change in the bathhouse, using one of the 5,000 lockers to check their clothes, or risk a $5.00 fine if caught slipping into their trunks in the bathroom. Other rules forbade sitting on a newspaper on the sand to prevent the inevitable litter.  Offenders were tried within hours at a special court.

Concession building, Orchard Beach, 1940. The nautically clad sales staff at the beach shop offered model sailboats, Kewpie dolls and big straw hats. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Concession area, Orchard Beach, September 10, 1940. Embury’s Moderne-style is evident in the concession interior. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Crowded summer beach scene, Orchard Beach, circa 1940. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

An extraordinary achievement, Orchard beach provided wonderful recreational opportunities for Depression-weary City residents.  Today, we look forward to the day we can once again “dive in” at the beach.

We’ll Be Back!

We’ll Be Back!

New York is a destination city. In 2019, more than 66 million visitors from the United States and around the world enjoyed sights and venues throughout the city with maybe only a “sold out” notice spoiling their good times. Preliminary numbers for 2020 looked like it would be another record-breaker. That is, until 8 p.m., March 22nd, when Governor Andrew Cuomo put New York State on “pause,” closing all but essential businesses and requiring residents to “shelter-in-place.” Overnight, the city’s entire $70-billion tourism industry evaporated.

Brooklyn Bridge and the lower Manhattan skyline, ca. 1987. The iconic towers of the Brooklyn Bridge, one of the greatest public-works achievements of the 19th Century, has attracted photographers since completion in 1883. New York Convention and Visitors Bureau Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Times Square, ca. 1987. New York Convention and Visitors Bureau Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The current travel restrictions present an un-precedented and unique circumstance in New York City’s history. With the exception of a relatively short period after the attack on the World Trade Center in 2001, and the occasional blizzard or hurricane, visitors have enjoyed “the city that never sleeps,” without interruption.

New Yorkers are looking forward to the day when we will once again welcome friends and visitors to explore this great metropolis. In the meantime, we can ‘virtually’ visit some of the city’s most popular attractions as depicted in pictures commissioned by the New York Convention and Visitors Bureau in the mid-1980s. It is a small collection—only 52 transparencies—but their bright colors and iconic scenery showcase what the city has to offer. Although the pictures are not dated, based on signs and banners, it appears the bulk were taken in 1986 or 1987. 

Fifth Avenue entrance, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, ca. 1987. The Museum’s entrance steps have long served as a welcome respite for visitors and a prime location for people watching. The Museum is celebrating its 150th birthday in 2020. New York Convention and Visitors Bureau. Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

The New York Convention and Visitors Bureau created the photographs to illustrate their promotional materials. Formed in 1934 by merchants, hotel owners and other businesses to bring conventions to the city, the Bureau is a non-profit making entity. The Bureau and its companion organization, NYC & Company, are not city agencies, although they do receive budget support from tax-levy funds.

United Nations member flags welcome visitors to another popular city destination, ca. 1987. New York Convention and Visitors Bureau Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The bronze sculpture of Prometheus at Rockefeller Center is a can’t miss midtown attraction, ca. 1987. New York Convention and Visitors Bureau Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Given the many enduring wonders of the city it would seem that the Bureau’s job would be easy. But there were times when promoting the city was a challenge. “Has New York's image unjustifiably soured, from Fun City to Crime City?” headlined a June 14, 1972, New York Times story about the Bureau’s launch of their annual “New York is a Summer Festival.” For the coronation of Ms. Bernadette Allen, the 19th-annual Summer Festival Queen that year, the Bureau hosted a gala event at one of the city’s premier tourist venues, the Empire State Building. They enlisted celebrities such as Duke Ellington and the “ageless” actress Gloria Swanson to preside over the festival. It is not entirely clear how Swanson’s remarks at the launch, as quoted in the Times, would help to promote tourism: “I chose to live in New York City in 1938 because I pay taxes here.” Perhaps the comment she added, “I’m the hostess with the mostest,” better served the cause. 

The Twin Towers dominate the pre-9/11 Lower Manhattan nighttime skyline, ca. 1987. New York Convention and Visitors Bureau Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Over the next several decades, the city experienced a renaissance and with it, tourism boomed. According to the Bureau, in 1977, more than 16 million tourists visited the city. By 1990, the figure climbed to 20 million, and surpassed 31 million by the end of the decade. After 9/11, tourism in the city gradually escalated up to 54 million in 2013. In 2019, the Bureau counted more than 66 million visitors—53.1 domestic travelers; and 13.5 arriving from overseas.

Taxis in Manhattan, ca. 1987. By the late 1980s, the Chevrolet Caprice had replaced the once-ubiquitous Checker Cab as the taxi of choice for fleet owners. New York Convention and Visitors Bureau Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Antique auto in the Coney Island Boardwalk parade, ca. 1987. New York Convention and Visitors Bureau Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Aqueduct Raceway in Queens, ca. 1987. The New York Convention and Visitors Bureau used their promotional materials to lure visitors to attractions outside Manhattan. New York Convention and Visitors Bureau Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The Hard Hat Riots, May 8, 1970

Friday, May 8, marks the 50th anniversary of one of the uglier incidents in New York’s history, in a year that was one of the most tumultuous in recent US history. In front of Federal Hall and under the statue of George Washington, construction workers stormed a student protest against the Vietnam War and chased both students and bystanders through the streets, beating and kicking them. Known as the Hard Hat Riots, it sparked two weeks of protests, counter protests and marches. Historians and journalists have debated the meaning of the incident ever since.

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Construction workers raising American flag on the steps of Federal Hall, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Construction workers breaking through police lines, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

It is hard to make sense of the event without understanding the backdrop:

On April 29, 1970, President Nixon ordered American troops into Cambodia to track Viet Cong forces. The Vietnam War was already deeply unpopular and dividing America, but Nixon had run on a campaign of ending the war with honor. He asked Americans for patience in a famous November 1969 speech urging the “silent majority” of Americans who were not out protesting to stand by him. Now he was expanding the war, “leaving Vietnam through Cambodia” as the comedian George Carlin put it.

The invasion of Cambodia inflamed anti-war protesters. Students on college and high school campuses around the country began walk outs and protests. Kent State University in Ohio was one of those schools. After several days of unrest, including the torching of the campus Reserve Officers Training Corps (ROTC) building, the National Guard was called in to quell the protests. On Monday May 4th, the Guard ordered protesters to disperse, firing tear gas into the crowd. For reasons still unclear, a sergeant fired live ammunition into the crowd, sparking a volley of 67 rounds. Thirteen students were hit, leaving four dead and nine wounded.

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Flyer incorporating images from the Kent State shootings for an anti-war protest at 43rd and Madison, on May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, series III, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Flyer incorporating images from the Kent State shootings for an anti-war protest at 43rd and Madison, on May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, series III, NYC Municipal Archives.

The sight of soldiers firing on unarmed college students shook the nation, but it also elicited sentiments that the students “got what was coming to them.” The galvanizing effect on the anti-war movement was immediate, and on Tuesday May 5th students across the nation staged more walk-outs and strikes. New York City Mayor John Lindsay ordered the American flag topping City Hall to be flown at half-mast. Students from Columbia University and City College staged a memorial march between the schools. A small group of students from NYU and Hunter College staged a protest in front of Federal Hall. All week a group gathered there without incident except for Thursday afternoon when a small group of construction workers arrived to confiscate American flags that they said were being desecrated. Mayor Lindsay declared Friday May 8th a day of remembrance and high school and college classes were canceled. Multiple small protests were staged throughout the City.

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Flyer for Wall Street protest on May 7, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, series III, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Flyer for student strikes, week of May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, series III, NYC Municipal Archives.

The crowd at Federal Hall grew to over a thousand, mostly high school and college students. All morning the protesters listened to speakers from the steps of Federal Hall calling for an end to the war and social injustices at home, watched over by a small line of police. Just before noon, over 200 construction workers and others descended on Federal Hall from four directions, joined by others along the way. Many of the men carried American flags and demanded to plant them in front of Washington’s statue. What happened next was unclear, but eye witnesses said a man spit on a flag, blew his nose on it, and taunted the workers. Within moments, the construction workers broke through the police barricades, punched him in the face and started their rampage. Protesters were violently thrown off the steps, “longhairs” seemed to be singled out for the most brutal attacks, but even stock traders and lawyers from nearby firms who tried to shelter the teens reported that they were savagely attacked. A female secretary reported that as she was beaten for trying to help a student a man said, “If you want to be treated like an equal, we'll treat you like one.”1

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Journalist being pushed off of a ledge by workers, May 8, 1970. Photograph by Howard Petrick. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Student injured in riots, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

A group of workers stormed nearby Pace College, upset by an anti-war banner there, beating more students and smashing windows with crowbars and pipes. A group continued to City Hall Park demanding that the flag be raised to full mast. The park and City Hall Plaza were completely open, and the few police onsite could or would not stop the protesters. An aide to Mayor Lindsay was assaulted. A postal worker made it to the roof and raised the flag. When the flag was lowered again moments later, a larger group of angry construction workers broke through the police. Fearing that they might set fire to City Hall, Deputy Mayor Richard Aurelio ordered city workers to raise the flag again. At Trinity Church on Broadway, a makeshift hospital for the students was attacked by the mob and the flag of the Episcopal Church was torn from the building. Many eye-witnesses claimed that throughout the day the police stood by and let the mob beat students. Seventy people were injured and only six arrests were made.

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Student filmmaker after being assaulted by workers, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Construction worker assaulting man on Broadway, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Workers stomping on a man on Broadway, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Workers assaulting pedestrians on Broadway, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Construction workers assaulting people in front of City Hall, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Man injured in riots in front of Federal Hall, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

The press struggled to make sense of this event. Was this Nixon’s silent majority flexing their muscle? Time magazine had just declared “Middle Americans” their people of the year, and it seemed that this was middle America saying they had had enough of the revolution. The last few months had seen activist groups splinter into more violent factions, including the Weather Underground who firebombed the Manhattan home of the judge in the Panther 21 trial and accidentally blew up a Greenwich Village townhouse while making bombs. Many in America looked at events like these and began to wonder if America had, as 63% of them told a pollster for the Nixon campaign, “seriously gotten off on the wrong track.”2

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Arthur Muglia taunting construction workers from the steps of Federal Hall, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

There was a lot more going on below the surface though. First off, the man who taunted the workers was not a student radical, but a middle-aged man in a suit by the name of Arthur Muglia. He told a lawyer, Michael Belknap, who helped him to the hospital that he wasn’t against the war but was protesting the treatment he had been given in government hospitals. Belknap told police he was under the impression that Mr. Muglia “was not all there.” Upon returning to the scene, Belknap pleaded with construction workers to stop beating a student, at which point he was branded a “commie lawyer” and savagely beaten in the face.

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Arthur Muglia being punched by a construction worker on the steps of Federal Hall, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Construction workers on Park Row, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

Other eye-witnesses to the riots described seeing men in gray suits with union patches directing the assaults. Construction workers described being told by their shop stewards that they would get paid for walking off their job sites (mostly from the World Trade Center) and “cracking some heads.” Peter J. Brennan, President of the Building and Construction Trades Council of Greater New York and Vice-President of the NY State AFL-CIO, called the protests a spontaneous display of patriotism. However, many thought he directed them. Brennan, a staunch anti-communist, had clashed with Mayor Lindsay for several years over many issues, including efforts to integrate the building construction trades. Whether he was the puppet master of the May 8th assault or not, he took full advantage of the aftermath. In the following days, a rather predictable back and forth occurred as Mayor Lindsay criticized the police for their lack of action, and police union leaders accused the mayor of undermining the police. City Hall/NYPD relations were already strained, just a week earlier, Lindsay had established the Knapp Commission in response to Detective Frank Serpico’s tales of widespread police corruption.

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Construction workers leaving the riots to cheers from Stock Exchange workers, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

Mayor Lindsay demanded an investigation into the May 8th incident. The NYPD interviewed hundreds of witnesses, protesters, and police. They also fielded many calls and letters supporting and opposing the construction workers. An economist from the US Labor Department described pleading with police officers to help the students and make arrests. A Mrs. Tuohey called “to give the name of the biggest communist in the Country—John Lindsay—Gracie Mansion.”

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Construction workers on Broadway during the riots, May 8, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

Police commanders described being stretched thin that day and unprepared for the confrontation. The log for the day describes the Special Events Squad responding to: 300 students at Queens College trying to block the Long Island Expressway, 300 marchers on West 184th Street and Jerome Avenue, 150 people marching to Union Square, 100 Young Lords and Black Panthers demonstrating in front of 100 Centre Street, 100 picketers at John Adams HS in Queens, 300 people marching on Queens Boulevard, a protest in front of the United Nations, a “large disorderly crowd at St. Francis College” and a protest blocking Broadway and 96th Street. That was all before noon! In addition, Mayor Lindsay was scheduled to address a crowd at Foley Square at 1:30 and he requested a heavy police detail including high ranking officers.

Hard Hat protesters and counter-protesters face off near City Hall, May 11, 1970. NYPD Film Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

On May 11, several thousand construction workers, dockworkers and white-collar workers rallied against the mayor, calling him a “commie rat” and worse. Protests, and counter protests by students and anti-war labor groups, continued on May 12, 13, 15, and 17. It culminated in a march on May 20th Brennan organized of 150,000 workers through lower Manhattan’s “canyon of heroes” while office workers showered them with an unofficial ticker-tape parade.

Hard Hats demonstrate for the Vietnam War, 47th Street and 7th Avenue, May 13, 1970. NYPD Film Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Hard Hats demonstrate for Nixon and the Vietnam War, near City Hall Park, May 15, 1970. NYPD Film Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Hard Hats protesting Mayor Lindsay near City Hall Park, May 17, 1970. NYPD Film Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Hard Hat demonstration in favor of Nixon and the Vietnam War, May 20, 1970. NYPD Film Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

It would be easy to look at these marches the same way we look at the Charlottesville march or other recent outpourings of right-wing intolerance, but it’s not that simple. The NYPD surveillance films at the NYC Municipal Archives reveal that at least some of the protesting workers were African-American and Latino. Many working-class Americans of all races looked at the Vietnam War differently than the protesters because it was them and their relatives who were fighting the war while college students were granted deferments. Said one construction worker, “I’m doing this because my brother got wounded in Vietnam, and I think this will help our boys over there by pulling this country together.”3

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Hard hat demonstration in support of Nixon and the police, May 20, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Hard hat demonstration in support of Nixon and the police, May 20, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Hard hat demonstration in support of Nixon and the police, May 20, 1970. NYPD Intelligence Records, Photograph Files, NYC Municipal Archives.

Brennan was the only real winner of this whole saga. On May 26th he went to the White House and presented Nixon with a hard hat. Nixon and his aides saw Brennan as a useful ally and asked him to organize labor support for Nixon’s 1972 re-election. After Nixon’s landslide victory Brennan was appointed labor secretary.

1 https://prospect.org/article/then-one-democrat-anymore/

2 https://web.archive.org/web/20150921181507/http://www.publicopinionpros.norc.org/ features/2006/jun/hugick_supp1p1.asp

3 After ‘Bloody Friday,’ New York Wonders if Wall Street is Becoming a Battle Ground. Wall Street Journal, May 11, 1970.

Spotlight on Preservation Week: Emergency Preparedness in a New Era

Every year museums, libraries and archives around the country participate in Preservation Week to highlight preservation issues at both an institutional as well as a personal level. The New York City Municipal Archives is committed to the long-term preservation of all materials in its care. The Conservation Unit is responsible for the systematic planning and execution of preservation, rehousing, and conservation treatments of the holdings. Current projects include complex treatments on oversize architectural plans of the Brooklyn Bridge and Central Park, two of the most visually appealing collections in the Archives.

On this tenth anniversary of Preservation Week, the Municipal Archives is boosting its emergency preparedness plans. Having an up-to-date emergency plan has become increasingly vital in the era of climate change, and even more so now, amid a new type of emergency for most of us – a global pandemic.

With the Archives staff now teleworking, the normally very hands-on work of the Preservation Unit has shifted to what can be accomplished remotely. Conservators are diligently updating protocols, making plans for future projects, creating guides for future conservation interns, engaging in research and professional development, as well as supporting projects in other parts of the agency. Being removed from the Archives’ physical locations in Lower Manhattan and Brooklyn, however, has brought collections security and continuity of operations to the forefront.

Like most large collecting institutions, the Archives has taken steps to prepare for water incursions, fire, and other typical disaster scenarios, but social distancing has never been in the equation. COVID-19 has changed the landscape in dramatic ways.

As a result, the Archives has taken some immediate steps to ensure collections are safe, such as scheduling regular walkthroughs of storage areas, checking to make sure freezers containing collection materials continue to run properly, and monitoring environmental conditions. This is also an appropriate time to reevaluate the broader emergency plan and to think creatively about future staff training and other ways to enhance preparedness.

Municipal Archives staff assisted the Museum of Chinese in America with collections recovery following a fire in their storage space in January 2020. NYC Municipal Archives.

Current COVID-19 research indicates the virus lives on surfaces for a maximum of a few days. Thus, fears of returning to contaminated books and documents requiring disinfection are largely unfounded. Simply leaving items alone for three days would render them safe. The more pressing concern remains person-to-person transmission and high-touch surfaces that need regular disinfection.

Despite this bit of good news regarding collection material, the COVID-19 situation raises other questions.  How to maintain social distancing practices once staff return to work, while continuing to provide access to the collections? How does the typical use of personal protective equipment (PPE) change during this time of supply shortages? How to maintain preparedness, when budgets are reduced? Responses to these questions will evolve as more information becomes available.

A facilities engineer addresses a water leak in one of the Archives’ storage rooms. NYC Municipal Archives.

Our archivists and librarians are planning how to safely reopen and restore services when the time comes. Protocols will be put in place for handling collections after patron use, and stricter enforcement of hand washing or hand-sanitizing may be necessary.  While planning is still in the early stages, undoubtedly greater effort will be required to support communication and keep projects on track.

We are also reviewing collection processing protocols.  Archivists who rely on PPE when working with moldy or dusty collection materials, may not have immediate access to these items on return. The Department rightly donated its extra stock of disposable N95 masks to support healthcare workers during the pandemic.  The Municipal Archives may consider using non-disposable PPE where possible, but of course, this requires an upfront investment and additional maintenance. Respirator masks should also be fit-tested for each user to ensure that they provide adequate protection. In the long run, however, these moves may ultimately prove more cost effective as well as environmentally sustainable.

Boosting preparedness in times of economic uncertainty is no easy task; however, there are a number of steps we can take, such as adding pandemic and social distancing protocols to our existing plans and conducting staff training exercises once back at work among them. A number of state and local grants are available to help organizations develop emergency plans. New resources are also  available, such as the NEH’s recently announced CARES grants for cultural organizations.

A water-damaged ledger shows severe mold growth following a water leak. NYC Municipal Archives.

We must not to lose sight of the importance of future preparedness. Science and recent history have shown that disasters are an ever-increasing threat, particularly as the planet continues to warm. While budgets are strained in mitigating the effects of climate change and super viruses, protectors of cultural heritage must continue to think creatively in order to safeguard our history.

The Smelly History of Barren Island, a Piece of the Lost New York

Many pieces of New York have been lost over the years – from the days before European settlers arrived through the more recent places we loved, the restaurants we knew and even the sports teams we lost to California, New Jersey and elsewhere. One of the lesser-known losses – as infamous and smelly as it was – is Barren Island, which was located on the southeast shore of Brooklyn, on the way to the beach at Jacob Riis Park. Some of its history can be found in the Municipal Archives – largely in late 19th century state and local Health Department investigations – and in the digital collection of images from the early 20th century.  

Houses built on stilts over swamp land, Barren Island, Brooklyn, 1937. Photographer: Edwards. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Historical records indicate that the Canarsee Native American tribe used what became known as Barren Island as a fishing outpost in the early 17th century and later “signed over” much of it to Dutch settlers. Largely unoccupied for many years, by the mid-19th century it had become a vast dumping ground where tons of waste and dead animals like horses, cattle, dogs, cats, rats and many other species from Brooklyn, Manhattan and The Bronx were rendered in several large factories on the island.The grease extracted from the waste yielded more than $10 million in profits annually.  

Street scene, Barren Island, Brooklyn, January 1938. Photographer: Sam Brody. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The residents, an ethnically diverse mix of blacks and poor European immigrants from Italy, Ireland and Poland, mostly worked in the factories and rendering plants, or service industries like grocery stores and bars. There also was a school, PS 120, and a church.  

Catholic Church, Barren Island, Brooklyn, January 1938. Photographer: Sam Brody. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

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A street in Barren Island, Brooklyn, Long Island, January 1938. Photographer: Sam Brody. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The Island inhabitants apparently became accustomed to the odors and noxious fumes from the island’s incinerators, but people living in the rest of Brooklyn complained long and loud about the stench. Finally, in October 1890, Governor David Hill responded to complaints about the “nuisance” on Barren Island “which affected the security of life and health” throughout Brooklyn by ordering a State Health Department investigation. The report from that investigation, contained in the archives, noted that a rendering plant operated by Peter White’s Sons received the carcasses of all dead animals collected on the city’s streets. “On an average there are over two thousand hogs kept on the premises… and the dead animals are dismembered and boiled and oils extracted therefrom,” the report said, noting that the odors were carried along to Rockaway Beach and other neighborhoods, “rendering those inhabitants sick and destroying the comfort and enjoyment of their homes.” The report also noted that a fertilizer plant on the island received “large quantities of fish,” which were allowed to accumulate on loading docks. “The smells from those fish factories are so powerful that it is impossible to keep the doors or windows of dwelling houses open when the wind blows from the direction of Rockaway, and many persons have been made sick…” The report recommended that the factories take measures to contain the odors and that state health inspectors make regular visits.

P.S. 120, Barren Island, Brooklyn, ca. 1905. Lantern slide. Board of Education Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The results were mixed at best. An 1896 report from the Brooklyn Department of Health – Brooklyn did not become part of New York City until 1898 – found that nuisances were still rife on the island five years after the state report. “This bureau, together with the sanitation bureau and the inspector of offensive trades has kept a close watch of the manufactories situated on Barren Island,” but noted that as long as rendering and fertilizer companies exist, there will be noxious odors and complaints. A subsequent inspection “found at the rendering plant dock three garbage scows, two of them being full and the other about half full… the plant is running night and day.” An inspection report for January 1896 found the carcasses of 21 dogs, 17 cats, 35 rats, along with numerous dead cattle, sheep and horses, which led to the naming of the nearby Dead Horse Bay. The City stopped dumping its garbage there in 1919. Complaints worsened in the early 20th century and the island’s population dwindled from a high of about 1,500 to several dozen by 1936, when City Parks Commissioner Robert Moses ordered the eviction of all residents as part of his plan to expand Marine Park. Before that happened, many of the buildings were abandoned and crumbling, as can be seen in 1930s-era photographs in the Archives.

Abandoned rendering factory, Barren Island, Brooklyn, January 1938. Photographer: Sam Brody. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives..

The island eventually vanished as the city used landfill and tons of sand to connect it to the rest of Brooklyn. It later become the home of Floyd Bennet Field and eventually part of Gateway National Park area. Now, it is gone and largely forgotten – yet another piece of the lost New York.

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Municipal Airport Floyd Bennett Field (remains of incinerator on Barren Island), July 27, 1934. Department of Bridges, Plant & Structures Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Demolition of 227 ft. reinforced concrete chimney at Floyd Bennett Airport on March 20th, 1937. NYC Municipal Archives Collection.

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Floyd Bennett Field - aerial, May 7, 1970. Department of Marine and Aviation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

In the Details

In the summer of 2018, I began work at the Municipal Archives as the lead archivist on the Manhattan Building Plans Project, a much-anticipated, years-long undertaking to process and rehouse more than 100,000 architectural drawings that had been filed with the Department of Buildings between 1866-1977. The drawings had been transferred to the Archives from the Department of Buildings in the aftermath of a less-than-successful microfilming project in the late 1970s. The microfilming vendor, believing the original material was going to be disposed of, haphazardly and messily re-wrapped the plans in acidic paper. They tightly tied each “bundle” with damaging twine and labelled with minimal, and often insufficient, identification.

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Pre-processing storage conditions of the Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Post-processing (hooray!) storage conditions of the Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

My colleagues and I are processing and rehousing the plans to reestablish intellectual control over the material and to create more optimal retrieval and storage conditions. To do so, we un-roll the dusty bundles, identify the plans, sort, flatten, repair if damaged, count and catalog, carefully and neatly re-roll onto acid-free tubes, wrap with protective Mylar, and store in acid-free boxes.

We are organizing the plans according to BBL, or borough, block, and lot number, so that all the plans for all the buildings or structures built on a particular city lot, and all the changes and alterations made to an already existing building on that lot, are stored together. When sorting the plans, we verify the block and lot information and record it, as well as addresses, quantity of plans, dates, notes on architects, important features, and condition concerns. To date, we have processed and rehoused over 22,000 plans for buildings in lower Manhattan. They comprise all manner of architectural drawings—sections, elevations, floor plans, and details—as well as engineering and structural diagrams for every conceivable type of building—industrial, manufacturing, retail, financial, and residential. From stables to skyscrapers and everything in between.

Among the plans are obvious showstoppers, beautifully rendered elevations of well-known buildings splashed with color and architectural detail--what people think of when they think of historic New York City architecture. But most building plans are not that, and the vast majority of the tens of thousands of plans that we have viewed are far humbler and more mundane. They show alterations, fireproofing, elevator and boiler installations, signage, electrical work, and plumbing, plumbing and more plumbing. And they reveal a lot about the true nature of the building, the people who made and used it, and the city itself.

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Wooden elevator shaft with dovetail detail, 129 Mercer Street, 1896. H.G. Knapp, architect. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

When you look through 22,411 plans of the details of New York City, day in, day out, what catches your jaded eye? What are the small things that delight or confound you and make you stop for a moment and show your colleagues or take a photo with your phone to refer to later or simply to show a friend? For me these stop-and-look-closer moments seem to fall into three different categories:

1.   The “Awww! Pretty!” Plans

Finding beauty in unexpected places has been one of the highlights of the project. To see the intricate parts of a building drawn in two dimensions provides a new perspective that gives you the ability to appreciate the complexity and precision of something as ubiquitous as a foundation or a column or a plumbing fixture in a brand-new way.

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Surprisingly delicate rendering of a foundation pier for the Bowling Green Building, 11 Broadway, 1895. W. & G. Audsley, architects. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Complex column details from an 18-story loft building, 460 West 34th Street, 1927. Parker & Shaffer, engineers and industrial architects. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Two images showing the artistry of plumbing fixtures from two very different buildings. On the left is the plan for the barber shop basins at the former New York Life Insurance Building, 346 Broadway, 1895, McKim, Mead & White, architects.

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And on the right a plumbing detail from the plans for the “City Prison” [aka the Manhattan House of Detention], 100 Centre Street, 1937, Harvey W. Corbett & Charles B. Meyers, architects. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

2.   The “Wait, what?” Plans

We process so many plans that you can’t take too much time perusing every drawing. But when a confounding phrase or image is spotted, you can’t help but look a little closer and do a bit of research. You can’t just let the Coloramas, movie theater train cars, and doughnut computers of the world pass you by.

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Colorama display detail from a plan entitled “Colorama Room Plans and Traverse Sections, New Bank Entrance,” The Bank for Savings, 280 Fourth Avenue [now 280 Park Avenue South], 1953. Alfred Hopkins and Associates, architect. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. Coloramas were spectacular 18-foot by 60-foot color transparencies created by Eastman Kodak and displayed on the east balcony in Grand Central Terminal from 1950-1990. Only 565 were ever made and a few were later cut down in size and displayed elsewhere, which seems to be the case here. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Plan for alterations to theater interior, 46 East 14th Street, 1906. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. In the early 1900s the area around 14th Street had many nickelodeons and theaters competing for business. The Brady-Grossman Company featured Hale’s Tours, where patrons sat in simulated Pullman cars and watched films of picturesque railroad routes as if they were travelling. The “tours” became more and more sophisticated, with panoramas, sound effects, and a rocking motion making it feel like the “train” was moving; this seems to be an early version of the attraction.

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Plan entitled “Additional Steel Support of IBM Units” for the Doughnut Corp. of America, 45 West 36th Street, 1954. J. Gordon Carr, architect. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. The Doughnut Corporation of America was founded in 1920 primarily to sell doughnut-making machines to bakeries. They later expanded to manufacturing doughnut mixes for home use as well as running a chain of coffee shops. They also founded the National Dunking Association in 1931 to encourage doughnut-eating. So it is really not too surprising that such innovators were also early adopters of the most modern (but heavy) technology.

3.   The “That’s so cool!” Plans

There are some things that are just too fun not to pay attention to. Whether it’s a hand-drawn detail that shows a draftsman taking artistic liberties or a floor plan that proves New York City building façades could contain any and all sorts of interesting enterprises.

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A charming drawing for Bear & Son clothing store near Union Square, 50 East 14th Street, date unknown. Note that the draftsman went to the trouble to write in “Bear’s Head” and “Cub’s Head” at the top. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

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Floorplan for the Julian Billiard Academy, 138 East 14th Street, circa 1933. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. This second-floor pool hall was owned by the same family for over 50 years and its closing in 1991 was felt by many New Yorkers to be a real blow for “old New York.”

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Longitudinal section drawing for Ogden & Wallace Iron Warehouse, 583 Greenwich Street, 1893. John A. Hamilton, architect. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. Though many architectural drawings depict both exterior and interior elements, this is the only one we’ve seen with such a cozy (lit!) fireplace.

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Alteration plan for Electric Lady Studios, 52-54 West 8th Street, 1969. Storyk Design, architect. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. Soundproofing and vocal booth construction details for the recording studio built for Jimi Hendrix in 1970 and still in demand today. Very cool.

And I’ll close with one of the first drawings that caught my eye and is still one of my favorites It spans all three categories. It’s a beautiful drawing of a beautiful object, its history certainly deserves some further research, and the structure is a cool, and recognizable detail of New York City architecture.

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Tank and tower drawing for House of Relief, 67-69 Hudson Street, 1912. Felber Engineering Works. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Like many New Yorkers, the Building Plans Team is telecommuting now, and the plans are waiting for our return. And with many tens of thousands of plans remaining, who knows what else we’ll find.