By Caitlin Hawke

By now, blog readers may know that the great Civil War era actor Maggie Mitchell (1836-1918) built 855 West End Avenue in 1895, at the southwest corner of W. 102nd Street, with the considerable fortune she earned on the American stage.

Her signature role was the waif in the eponymous play "Fanchon, the Cricket" which debuted in 1861. It was based on George Sand's novel "La Petite Fadette." Maggie played in this role 1500 times from Boston to New Orleans, performing a showstopping shadow dance in the second act that beguiled her audiences, fueling her fame and making her a household name. She played for Abraham Lincoln at Ford's Theatre and was subsequently invited to the White House. Men who fought on both sides of the Civil War wrote love letters to her, some of which are in a small collection at the New York Public Library. Her likeness was affixed to soap, cigarettes, chewing tobacco, a race horse, and a schooner. A waltz was written for her. And promising up-and-comers were referred to as the new Maggie Mitchell, such was her fame in America.

She acknowledged where her bread was buttered by naming her apartment house at 855 after the scene in the play that made her famous, The St. Andoche. She also placed an effigy of her character Fanchon above the entry. See more about the building's name here and for a photo of the effigy, see here.

In 1915, 50 years after the heyday of the play, Paramount's movie version finally appeared with Mary Pickford in the title role. Upon its release, one Newark paper said "Mary Pickford isn't Maggie Mitchell, so we of the former generation stoutly maintain, but she is altogether a delightful Fanchon––the wild creature of unregulated emotion, the capricious but altogether womanly little being who in the end finds that which satisfies the love hunger of her starving soul."

According to neighbor Gil Tauber, the Pickford film has been showing recently on Turner Classic Movies. It had been lost until a print was discovered in Paris and has since been restored by the Mary Pickford Foundation and the Cinémathèque Française.  From the Pickford Foundation website: "Collaborating over the course of six years with the Cinémathèque, the British Film Institute (which held an incomplete nitrate print) and the Immagine Ritrovata in Bologna, Italy, the Mary Pickford Foundation has brought the 1915 film back to the public."

For a taste of the restoration, click the Maypole image or video below.

Thanks to Jim Mackin's new book on notable Upper West Siders which you can read about in my piece in the West Side Rag, we know that Mary Pickford lived at 270 Riverside Drive (at 99th Street) just a few streets south of the building Maggie put up. And a tantalizing tidbit from Anthony Bellov (who I recently interviewed here about his research on architect Rosario Candela) is that Douglas Fairbanks Sr. and Mary Pickford supposedly had assignations at 858 West End Avenue (then owned by Fairbanks' friend Frederick Bertuch) as their affair took flight before they eventually married in 1920.

​That would put the two Fanchons of stage and screen directly across the street from each other if only for a moment and if before Maggie's death at 855 West End in 1918.

For a wonderful write up about 858 West End Ave, see the Daytonian in Manhattan blog.

By Caitlin Hawke

You may have heard about "Notable New Yorkers of Manhattan’s Upper West Side," neighbor Jim Mackin's recent book in which he chronicles nearly 600 Bloomingdale and Morningside Heights residents of "note". However 800 other individuals didn't make it into the book, so Jim created a database which you can explore here.

For vignettes about several of the people who made the cut, see the article I wrote in today's West Side Rag here.

Jim Mackin arrived on the Upper West Side in 1971, obtained an MBA at NYU, and worked as chief financial officer of a division of JP Morgan. It was there that Jim developed an interest in the histories of companies. Soon, inspired Peter Salwen’s Upper West Side Story, he became a diehard student of the history of New York City. 

After retiring in 2005, Jim realized he could marry his passion for fresh air, exercise and local history at the street level by giving tours which he dubbed “WeekdayWalks.” He is a licensed tour guide with distinction, meaning that he scored high on the licensing exam for which he didn’t have to study as knowledge of the city has really be a lifetime pursuit. 
​
Last week, in preparation for the WSR piece, I caught up with Jim to ask him more about the genesis of  project.

​Here are excerpts from that Q&A:

​Caitlin: What gave you the idea for “Notable New Yorkers of Manhattan’s Upper West Side”?
Jim: Preparing for my walking tours, I started collecting addresses of famous people in the news or from books that I read. Then I put them onto a spreadsheet with some notes. Soon I had a few hundred which grew to over a thousand. A friend gave me the idea that I actually had a book. Next, I wrote up short biographies that I thought would be entertaining, and I discovered that it was fun to research and to write.

Caitlin: How did you organize all that data and what tools did you use?
Jim: I used a simple spreadsheet, which beyond the obvious details -- name, profession, dates, addresses -- included four designations: superstar, plaque-worthy, needs to be better appreciated, and especially interesting. These designations were invaluable in deciding which of my 1400+ notables should be included in the book so that it would be a reasonable size. Primarily, I used the internet, New York Times archives, and Ancestry.com. I also read books – a lot – usually from the New York Society Library.

Caitlin: What do you consider your greatest "finds" for this book? 
Jim: Amelia Earhart for just being in the neighborhood and the difficult Barnard situation endured by Harriet Brooks, the first U.S. female nuclear physicist, who worked with Ernest Rutherford and Marie Curie.

Caitlin: True story. Did you happen to dig out the nugget that Hunter S. Thompson lived on Morningside Drive for a short time? An air force buddy, he lived for a time in 1957-58 with my father at 110 Morningside Drive.
Jim: Didn’t know…thanks for this information. 

Caitlin: That's one more for the database! What you did was a huge and immersive undertaking. What fills your research time now that this book is out?
Jim: The Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group, of which I am one of ten, occupies most of my attention in NYC. As president of the Friends of Taconic State Park in Copake Falls, New York, we are preserving a historic iron works and building a narrow-gauge railroad attraction. I am also working on my second book that connects the family that built the Copake Iron Works and a very important person in NYC’s history.

Caitlin: If you had to live in another neighborhood, which one would you choose?
Jim: I have a very soft spot in my heart for Greenwich Village, where my wife Janet and I lived for half a year until we were kicked out of an illegal sublet. 

Caitlin: Great place to end – a typical New York story. Thank you.

By Caitlin Hawke

The Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group presents an online event this evening, February 16, at 5:30 p.m. featuring Jim Mackin, author of Notable New Yorkers of Manhattan's Upper West Side, and another local historian Matthew Spady, who has written recently about Audubon Park up near W. 158th Street. Yes, the park is named for that Audubon. Matthew's book is titled The Neighborhood Manhattan Forgot. The director of Fordham University Press, Fred Nachbaur, will moderate. All are welcome to view the livestream via the link posted here: www.upperwestsidehistory.org. The group puts on consistently terrific programs. I am sure this one will not disappoint. Hope you can make it!

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By Caitlin Hawke

Here's a chance to show your Block Association some love. At our monthly meeting last week, Anthony Bellov gave his wonderful "Candela Corners" presentation about the embarrassment of Bloomingdale buildings designed by the "star" residential architect. I am sharing the recording below. If you are receiving this in your email subscription, click on the blog post title to view the video online or click here.

​Like most organizations and like everyone of us, the Block Association has felt the pinch of the pandemic.

If you haven't renewed your membership or if you are able to make a year-end contribution, here's a great occasion. Click here to donate in support of the Block Association, and then enjoy this wonderful tale and armchair tour featuring the magnificent architecture of Rosario Candela of the 1920s and 1930s.

And when you are done, if you missed my interview with Anthony yesterday, click here to read more.
​
With thanks to Anthony and with best wishes to you for the season of lights.

Thank you for reading! And don't forget to spread the Blove! There are lots of history and neighborhood tidbits to come.

If you enjoy reading this blog, spread the word!
Your friends and neighbors may subscribe at bottom to receive blog posts directly via email.
Like the Blog? Spread the Blove.

By Caitlin Hawke

If you missed Anthony Bellov's "Candela Corners" talk for the West 102nd-103rd Streets Block Association last week, fret no more. The recording will be posted here tomorrow for your viewing pleasure. Blog subscribers will have to click on the title of the blog to view the embedded video online.

In the meantime, I caught up with Anthony, a former Block Association board member and longtime neighbor. We share a fondness for the corner at W. 102nd Street and West End Avenue where most every pre-war era collides in an explosion of styles and housing variations. I've written before about the early buildings like the Townsend House and my personal favorite, the St. Andoche.

Now it's time to pay some mind to the great Sicilian American architect Rosario Candela who left a mark on the way New Yorkers live by way of the incredible number of residential buildings he designed in the 1920s and 1930s. The Upper East Side boasts a fair number of them, but Candela Corners belong to us, Bloomingdalers.  With fine examples of his work at 800, 820, 865, 875, 878, and 915 West End and more south of here, you can't hold a candle to us!

You'll enjoy the intimacy of Anthony's talk as he infiltrated almost every Candela on West End to bring alive the architectural features that Candela was known for and that make living in one of his buildings a classic New York experience.

So keep your eye out tomorrow for the blog post with the video. And, now, as a little hors d'oeuvre, read on for my sit-down with Anthony.

Q&A with Anthony Bellov

Caitlin: How long have you lived in the neighborhood?
Anthony: I moved into 865 West End immediately after graduating from Pratt Institute School of Architecture in 1979. I really wanted to try "the City thing" for a while and Bloomingdale reminded me so much of my native Park Slope I felt right at home. Over 40 years later... I'm still here.

Caitlin: Ha! With echoes of Elaine Stritch. So how long did it take you to get involved in the Block Association?
Anthony: Not long! Lil Oliver, an 865 neighbor and Sy Oliver's wife and head of the American Guild of Musical Artists (AGMA), invited me to produce a show for one of the Block Parties - titled "On the Streets Where You Live" given in the early 1980's. I used my students - along with the many other things I do, I've taught singing since 1978, trained by my own teacher to do so - and I was immediately embraced by this wonderful community. It's terrific to feel so at home in supposedly uncaring, unfriendly Manhattan.

I've been active with the Block Association in many ways since then. I was a board member for seven years and spearheaded the efforts to stagger traffic lights on West End and have stop signs installed on the Riverside Drive service road. After stepping down I've continued being active; I deeply believe in community involvement. I've always believed that if I'm not part of the solution then I'm part of the problem.

I suggested to the board that we hold a Yard Sale in the spring to bookend the one 104th Street does each fall - I guess that was around 2004? I offered to manage the vendors in order to kick it off. I then served in that function for 13 years consecutively. In 1983 I thought it would be nice to do some holiday caroling and initially organized friends in my building to wander around singing. The Block Association offered to get involved and our Annual Solstice Caroling was born. Since then I've been happy to lead it each year, with the exception of three years when the weather was simply too brutal for us to hold it. This is our first pandemic - and virtual caroling - however. (Note: to join in the remote Caroling on December 21, you should write to solstice@w102-103blockassn.org for details).

Caitlin: It's an impressive amount of leaning in. And now you've just given your Candela Corners talk for the BA. What sparked your interest in Rosario Candela?
Anthony: I first learned of him when I was studying architecture at Pratt institute in the 1970s. Paul Goldberger of the New York Times had "outed" him around then, and I recall my instructors praising his work. Years later I was thrilled to learn I had been living in a Candela building when Andrew Dolkart's report for the West End Avenue Historic District was published.

Caitlin: Yes, Dolkart is epic and that report is a Rosetta Stone for folks interested in our history. I know these research projects are really about the hunt. As an introvert, I've found that getting lost in a topic is one of life's great gifts, conjuring our forebears and imagining who came before. Could you describe a little about how you did your research and what resources were of most value to your story?
Anthony: Andra Moss of Landmark West! approached me with the idea to do a series of talks on the Upper West Side. Among the topics we explored, never realizing what a "hit" it was going to be, was one on Rosario Candela, since we were both fans and both disappointed at the exhibition the Museum of the City of New York had put together.

As soon as word got out that I was preparing a talk several people approached me, like Alan Sukoenig and other residents of 915 West End Avenue who had been avidly fighting their building's owners over the disfigurements in the name of "renovation" that were going on in that building. They put me in touch with the Candela family and Andrew Alpern, the author of "The New York Apartment Houses of Rosario Candela and James Carpenter," who were all happy to share info, support and advice.

Caitlin: That's exactly what I mean about the hunt: it's all about the journey. One thing you did so beautifully in your talk was give us that "you are there" feeling by shooting the interiors. So smart. How did you pull that off?
Anthony: Two local realtors, Leonard Gottlieb and Jesse Berger, arranged for me to gain access to several buildings I was especially interested in, and my singing teacher happened to live in Candela's first project - The Clayton, on 92nd and Broadway - so I had access to that building as well. Everyone was so helpful and committed to letting me into spaces so I could see firsthand what a Candela unit felt like and share it in my talk.

Caitlin: Did you coin “Candela Corners” for our stretch of West End?
Anthony: Yes. When I realized there was such an extraordinary density of Candela-related buildings centered around the intersection of 103rd and West End I jokingly coined it "Candela Corners" in passing one day and then realized how apt that nickname was, so I used it in my presentations. Now there's talk that we petition the City to rename that intersection "Candela Corners" permanently - which I find very exciting.

Caitlin: What is it like to live in a Candela apartment and what features have been preserved in yours?
Anthony: As fate would have it, 865 is one of the worst-kept buildings on West End Avenue. And so, my unit is more intact than those in many other Candela buildings because so few improvements have been made. Apart from the kitchen (which was thankfully updated prior to my moving in - new sink, new stove, that sort of thing) and some other minor changes, Rosario would have no trouble recognizing his original choices in details. The fact that I've been in the unit for so many years has contributed to its "preservation" as well. I've kept the "remuddler" at bay all these years.

Long before I knew I was living in a Candela unit, friends and visitors would comment regularly on how my apartment didn't feel like an apartment, but rather, it felt like a home. The layout is gracious, and it's easy to live in the unit and feel comfortable. And I love the wonderful single-paneled doors, the oversize crystal doorknobs, the high ceilings, the gorgeous oak parquet flooring and the gracious moldings throughout - elegant without being fussy.

Although it was an "accident" that I moved into a Candela unit, one could argue it wasn't. Of all the apartments I saw when apartment-hunting, the one I chose simply stood out from all the rest. It was that "Candela magic" I guess.

Caitlin: Yes, maybe it was destiny or maybe as Louis Pasteur said "Chance favored the prepared mind." As you know,  I’ve also been a lover of Bloomingdale history having researched 855 WEA which preceded 865 by roughly 30 years. I have a soft spot for the intersection of W. 102nd Street and West End because so many different eras are represented just at this crossroad. I know you are a Candela groupie, but what’s your second favorite building at or near this intersection?
Anthony: LOL! You're assuming a Candela building is my FIRST favorite building! I can't really rate them numerically but I, too, am enamored of the 102/WEA intersection. Just to name a FEW of my local faves:

I love the Ralph Townsend House (link above) at 302 W. 102nd because of its charm, its antiquity (built in 1884, it's the oldest house in the vicinity) and its unique history of having been built first on West End and later lifted and moved around the corner to 102nd as you recount in your talk and blog post - to make room for your beloved 855! I'm very fond of the Dewey at 850 West End because of the truly unique carved details on the building - take a look at the supports under the bay windows - one has a bird being stalked by two cats, and another has two monkeys fighting over a pineapple - not to mention the portrait of Admiral Dewey on one of the buildings cartouches.

858 WEA is outstanding as well - that wonderful tower serving as an exclamation point on the corner of 102nd and West End (I hear tell there's a Mary Pickford/Douglas Fairbanks connection to this building) and across the street those wonderfully ornate window surrounds on the 102nd St side of 860 WEA... and as I walk home from the 103 St subway station I always delight in the fanciful carvings in the row of brownstones, one of which was Humphrey Bogart's birthplace.

So, honestly, I can't pick a "favorite" building - I simply revel in the richness of the architecture on our blocks. It lifts my spirits and elevates me above the everyday stresses of life.

Caitlin: I completely concur. I also love 858. It reminds my partner of the building near City College on Convent Avenue that was a main character in the film "The Royal Tenenbaums". And how funny it would be to have a Mary Pickford connection directly across from 855. In 1915, Pickford made the film version of "Fanchon the Cricket." It was Maggie Mitchell's stage presence in the play decades earlier that made her wealthy and enabled her to build 855 in 1895. So it would be ironical to trace them to living quarters directly opposite one another...if only for an afternoon delight in Pickford/Fairbanks case. We'll have to dig on that to see if Pickford and Mitchell crossed paths on West End.
Of the Candelas on WEA, which is your favorite?

Anthony: THAT is a REALLY TOUGH question - but I think I would have to pick 875, on "Candela Corner" per se. That lobby simply can't be beat - and the apartments are laid out really well, in Candela's mature style - so I suppose, if wrestled to the mat, that would be my fave. But honestly, I love 'em ALL!

Caitlin: I can hear all my friends in that coop swooning with pride. It is a fabulous lobby which you can't quite tell from the little entry.
What is Candela’s biggest legacy to the city and to New York living?
Anthony: Rosario Candela showed us that a skilled architect, with the proper training and perspective, could create spaces that are gracious, easy to live in, and that contribute to a positive experience while living in a large, multi-unit building in a dense urban environment in a building which could still be economical to build. He laid out his rooms in the way people live best. I'm sorry to say his was an approach that ended with the collapse of the economy in the 1930s. When development resumed after WWII it was largely "pack 'em in as tight as you can, give 'em as little as possible, and charge 'em through the nose." I feel truly fortunate that I lucked into a Candela apartment.

Caitlin: What’s your next research project?
Anthony: I actually don't have anything in the pipeline right now. I just completed a series of three documentary-style videos for the Merchant's House Museum - on its architecture, and its furniture and lighting collections - that have left me exhausted. But you're not the first person to ask me this. It has crossed my mind that Candela's mentor, Gaetan Ajello, might be a really interesting project, and I've become very aware of just how important the Paterno Brothers were for the development of the Upper West Side, Bloomingdale and Morningside Heights. Potentially there are really interesting stories there. But I have not committed to anything at the moment.

Caitlin: What’s the best and worst kept secret about Bloomingdale?
Anthony: I'm sort of sorry to say the formerly best kept secret about Bloomingdale is now the worst kept secret: that is what a GREAT part of Manhattan this is to live in. It used to be "you live all the way up THERE?!" which has now changed to "Oh wow - you live up THERE?! It's really NICE up there!" I'm afraid our secret's out....

Caitlin: Yeah, I used to get that all the time. As the song in "Hamilton" goes: "You don't know til you know..." So to loop back, I guess Maggie Mitchell was ahead of the game when she sunk her flag here and built our first 'high-rise' -- The St. Andoche -- at 855 West End. It was only a matter of time before Candela and other architects of the "grande dames" of West End caught on with the subway opening things up.

Thanks for sharing all this with me. I hope readers will tune in tomorrow for the video of your talk.

​

By Caitlin Hawke

Edit: Post-publication of this blog post, I am adding the information that while federal U.S. District Judge Lucy Koh ruled last week that the 2020 Census count be extended until October 31, 2020, the Trump administration is appealing that ruling. Conclusion: get your count in and fill out the census without delay: www.my2020census.gov.


This is one of three posts this week about civil society. As a community of citizens, we are -- for better or worse -- linked by our collective activity. I can't recall a time in my life when the check and balance civil society represents had more potential for impact.

So here is part one. We all have two days to complete the 2020 Census. It closes on September 30th. In my innocence, I have always loved the historic censuses -- some on microfilm, some digital -- to search for ancestors and make other inferences for research purposes. The idea of a census that so vastly undercounts our population -- in this so-called advanced and digial era -- smacks at the gob.

Have you been counted? Have yours been counted?

Here's one last push. To make sure you're in there so NYC, NYS, the USA and future historians may all benefit from a full and accurate count, go to www.my2020census.gov. The clock is ticking loudly at this 59th minute of the 11th hour.

By Caitlin Hawke

Today, I left my home just as FDNY members were streaming past, down 100th Street toward the Riverside Park firefighters monument where they remembered their fallen for the 19th time in their annual rite. 

I realized it was, again, September 11th. 

In the first years, it was so raw. As time passed, the anniversary provided a chance to summon back the day's events, to remember and pay tribute. To mourn. Now nearly twenty years since 9/11, a generation gone by, I remain incredulous.

Waking New Yorkers soaked in the morning's perfection, readying for work. Not a hint of the waning summer's humidity. A clear, deep blue sky. A cool edge on a late summer day or a warm edge on an early fall day -- take your pick.

I get hung up when I think back, looping memories of the weather in the hours before disaster struck, the perversion of such a fine day juxtaposed with the date's murderousness.

And nineteen years later, I find solace in the poignant telltales, pictured here, left by firefighters remembering their own. It rekindles the solidarity I experienced with my fellow New Yorkers that whole autumn long. And I feel the throughline of that solidarity now in our current ordeal from which we momentarily emerge for a fine fall day. 

​
~~Dedicated to the West Coast Firefighters with respect for their valor and hope for their safety.~~

The monument -- which needs to be updated with mention of women -- is inscribed:
To the men of the Fire Department
of the City of New York
who died at the call of duty
soldiers in a war that never ends
this memorial is dedicated by the people of a grateful city.
Erected 1912.

A memorial offering, above right, to Joseph P. Spor, Jr. from Rescue 3 in the Bronx, who perished in the South Tower with seven others from his team. He was a father of four, the youngest of whom -- Caitlin Marie, like me -- was just nine months old.

FDNY lost 343 members on 9/11.

A recognition to horses, the fire engines of yore.

By Caitlin Hawke

There's still time to make plans to join us for Tuesday's history talk via Zoom (July 14 at 7 p.m.)! I'll be presenting at the annual meeting of the Block Association. To tune in, send an email to AMZoom@w102-103blockassn.org. You will receive the log or dial in information for Zoom.

If you haven't heard the talk, it revives a 125 year-old piece of our neighborhood's history. Once known as the St. Andoche, 855 West End Avenue (at center above) was constructed by beloved Civil War-era actor Maggie Mitchell, whose fame was second only to Edwin Booth’s, brother of John Wilkes Booth. Her story is largely forgotten, but the eight-story colonial revival St. Andoche still stands proud on the southwest corner of West 102nd Street where Maggie retired and lived for the last two decades of her life. The talk is equal parts early U.S. theater history, Bloomingdale history, and neighborhood architectural history.

Hope you can make it but make sure to register at the email above. Please share this with your Block Association neighbors.

By Caitlin Hawke

Neighbors, just a reminder that this talk -- the story of the building once known as the St. Andoche on West End Avenue -- will be held on Tuesday, January 14, at 6:30 p.m. at Hostelling International, 891 Amsterdam Avenue at W. 103rd Street. Hope you can make it for this lost slice of Bloomingdale's history! It's a free presentation in the Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group series. All are welcome!

By Caitlin Hawke

As a teaser for the talk I'll be giving on Tuesday, here's a little Throwback Thursday entry which I hope will entice you to come hear more!

For the past many years, I've been digging up tidbits about the apartment house that stands at the southwest corner of West End Avenue and W. 102nd Street. Built in 1895, it's a little building, filled with charm. Its solid construction is thanks to the fortune that bankrolled it -- one amassed by Miss Maggie Mitchell powerhouse of the American stage in the Civil War era.

For about 22 years, Miss Mitchell called this building her home. Sadly, she died there in the wee hours of March 22, 1918, but at the ripe age of 81. Hailed at her passing as "one of the most popular actresses of an earlier generation," and "one of the most famous of American actresses," Mitchell left the stage in 1892, and retired to Bloomingdale where her well-constructed, eight-story, colonial revival building still stands, but where her name has been all but forgotten.

I'm hoping to rectify that on Tuesday, January 14, at 6:30 p.m. To hear how George Sand, John Wilkes Booth, Laura Keene, Abraham Lincoln, and a shadow-dancing waif with enchanting powers all cross paths with Maggie, come over to Hostelling International for this free presentation in the Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group's wonderful lecture series. More details in the poster below.

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​By Caitlin Hawke

The rest of the year is going to pass by like a flash now that Thanksgiving is behind us. I hope you had a good one and are resting comfortably amidst meals of leftover carb-on-carbs.  And yes, the cranberry relish counts as a veggie.

In preparation for December's competing demands for our attention, there are several dates to pencil in on your December calendar.

• The first is coming this Wednesday, December 4, from our friends over at the Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group about how NYC's waterways contributed to the city's development. I hope there will be something juicy about the arrival of the obelisk of Thutmose III that stands outside the Met Museum which came via the shore. Look for my next Throwback Thursday post on this. The flyer for this talk is below.

• On Thursday, December 5, save your evening for a town hall on our vacant store fronts to be held at the Ethical Culture Society.  More to come on that tomorrow but also see this link to the WSR piece..

• On Wednesday, December 11, at 1:30pm, Community Board 7 will be offering up "The Senior Experience" a resource fair for older adults (flyer with location and more information to post shortly)

• And, of course, December 21 for the Block Association Solstice Caroling! The song sheet and meet up details are available on our home page.

More information to come on the above. See below for the BNHG talk on December 4.

See you in the neighborhood! 

By Caitlin Hawke

At some point, I am going to write long about BAiP. There are a lot of angles about this organization that would make good blog fodder. One of the most compelling is how deep its grassroots have dug in as if it's always been here. Another is how its existence was catalyzed by two block associations pooling resources to make the initiative known ten years ago as it started up. Originally a community tucked inside the community of the Block Association, BAiP has grown to cover well over a half mile squared.

I know college-age students who are envious of the depth and breadth of connections fostered by BAiP's members. That reaction is always sobering to me because no matter how "connected" we all are with technology, nothing replaces the person-to-person experience of sharing meals, books, walks and many other pursuits together right in the neighborhood. It is not an age-group specific yearning. We all need it and we all stand to benefit from knowing our neighbors better for lots of reasons.

I've written about David Reich here before, and it's hard to speak of BAiP's 10th anniversary without acknowledging the incredible work that David did, first from his perch as head of this Block Association, and then heading the steering committee that would eventually become the non-profit known as Bloomingdale Aging in Place. As a founder, among many other efforts, he laid down the communications systems that have proven to be BAiP's enduring but virtual infrastructure. Of course David was far from alone in building the initiative, but he was the undeniable organizational engine.

To recognize the decade gone by and recommit to BAiP's mission of creating connections, throughout the fall, its members are finding dozens of ways to mark the birthday as well as to look forward to what is to come.  One of those "BAiP@10" activities happens this week: "How a Community Blooms: An Oral History of BAiP." 

This event is a debut of sorts. You see, a few years ago, one of BAiP's activities groups took up a training in the art of oral history, in a workshop led by neighbor Pat Laurence. Once trained, the group members turned to exploring progressive movements on the Upper West Side and set its sights on compiling an oral history project on BAiP's founders, how and why this organization materialized, and then how the founders oversaw its organization and sought to carry out its mission. There were many people who poured love and sweat into laying down just the right tracks, several of whom have long history with this Block Association. Some of these neighbors were interviewed in two lengthy oral histories over the past two years, with interviewers trying to understand the "special sauce" -- the secret to BAiP's success.

This project is now nearing completion, having documented some of these early voices and perspectives in an archive consisting of audio recordings and transcripts, photographs, a timeline, press clippings, and much more. The collection is open to researchers and producers for future study and/or documentation of progressive, grassroots movements on the UWS that have taken hold. The collection illustrates how community members have come together and assisted one another as older adults. In sum, BAiP represents an early, ahead-of-its-time community response to issues around aging that are now part of the state and national dialogue.
​
This BAiP Founders Oral History project comes alive on Wednesday, October 16, 6:30 p.m. at Hostelling International New York, 891 Amsterdam Avenue at W. 103rd Street, in a program presented by the Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group and conceived by BAiPers Pat Laurence and Nancy Macagno (who also wears the hat of a BNHG Planning Committee member).

It is free and open to the community.  Come check it out!

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By Caitlin Hawke


Well, folks, it's July 4. Version 2.019.  Today has me thinking about Independence Days Gone By. An America that preceded this America. One of nostalgic childhood memories of fireflies in the backyard and 'Our Bicentennial' fireworks on the great DC Mall -- and the colossal city-wide traffic jam that ensued. Three quarters of a million folks showed up for the fireworks and the Boston Pops under Fiedler's baton (lagniappe embedded below -- click on the post title to see the video and see if it doesn't stir you when the audience rises one by one to their feet to the rousing trills and flourishes of piccolos and flutes). Here, there was the incredible spectacle of the tall ships in New York Harbor dubbed by Abe Beame "the most magnificent and glorious display of maritime splendor of th[e] century." Barkers dressed as colonial town criers and and hawkers on stilts with outsized Uncle Sam top hats milled around the foot of the Trade Center towers promoting the birthday events. Americans were spurred on to engage with this national event. Two hundred years young with Vietnam and Tricky Dick in our rearview mirror, we were scarred, socially shaken, but looking ahead; the country was dusting itself off and ready for the party, proud of the democracy that we were rebuilding in a new image of cleaner politicians, of inclusion, and of opportunity. Standing in front of Independence Hall that fourth, President Ford (in an address that I urge you to watch for how is resonates two score later--also embedded below) heralded "the two great documents that continue to supply the moral and intellectual power for the American adventure in self government."

Ford made the most of the birthday celebrations in '76, a hotly contested campaign year. A bizarre if not utterly opportunistic example early on in the year of how his administration maximized the occasion was how he handled the appearance of one sole case of swine flu at Fort Dix in New Jersey. For health authorities at the CDC, the case set off a group-think panic that the 1918 flu was back. At the time, Dick Cheney and Don Rumsfeld were padding around the west wing as Ford's trusty advisors. With Ronnie Reagan nipping at Ford's heels in the GOP primaries coupled with a young, idealistic peanut farmer on the rise on the left, the White House signed on to the notion that a vaccination campaign was immediately in order to combat the specter of flu that could fell Americans left, right and center. Heaven forfend on our birthday Americans dropping like flies. From a draft memo I once dug up in the Atlanta branch of our national archives, the Ford Administration's health officials argued in favor of a rapid intervention: "undertaking the [Swine Flu vaccination] program in this manner provides a practical, contemporary example of government, industry, and private citizens cooperating to serve a common cause, an ideal way to celebrate the nation’s 200th birthday."  (Emphasis mine).

Just think about that especially in light of the measles recently! Vaccinating citizens to celebrate the bicentennial.  Hard to make this up!

But the strategy behind the strategy was one -- likely concocted by Cheney -- akin to a Rose Garden offensive: keep Ford's name in the newspapers all year long with this great vaccination campaign and the birthday appearances, and he'd sail through as a strong, protective, patriotic leader of our nation, and twinkletoe his way in to a November '76 victory (not his normal mode of bipedality!). For the flu campaign, he even coaxed arch enemies and heroes Jonas Salk and Albert Sabin, of polio vaccine fame, to a détente and enlisted their help in advocating for the flu shot program and branding it for the nation. (That's a whole long story in and of itself).  Out of nowhere, cases of so-called Legionnaire's disease showed up in Philly in July 1976 -- the place and date chosen by the American Legion to coincide with the 200th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Cases of the illness that struck convention goers were immediately mistaken for Swine flu as the symptoms are similar, and with this scare, health authorities were eventually able to connive and jackhammer away the legal roadblocks to Ford's national flu vaccination campaign.

Of course this whole strategy failed spectacularly for reasons I will write about another time, the primary one being there was in fact no pandemic at all. The fiasco came to be known as "The Swine Flu Affair."

Ford lost. Carter won. Reagan was but four years stalled.

All this -- and so much more -- came galloping back to me with the fabulous archival footage in Martin Scorsese's new Netflix film "Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story" -- a mixed-up, crazy quilted, unreliably-narrated, utter joy of a romp back to 1975 and 1976.

If you do yourself and loved ones a single good deed to celebrate our nation's birthday this week, fire up Netflix and watch this gorgeous, lush "documentary."

You see, Bob Dylan, too, had a vision for our nation's 200th.  He, too, had been watching our leaders with cold eyes during Vietnam and Watergate. He, too, had yearned to see a better nation reboot. And reappearing after a multi-year, self-imposed fame detox, he'd conjured a traveling road show with his friends. An ideal way to celebrate our nation's 200th birthday!  

This post was triggered by the visual seen on Broadway above.  It is a shot in front of Lincoln Center earlier this month when the Scorsese film premiered. The Rolling Thunder Revue tour, mysteriously mythic for fans, was equally mythic for those musicians and artists who rode shotgun with the bard for its first leg up and down the northeast corridor, dipping into Canada. The Rolling Thunder caravan first put down stakes in Plymouth Rock for goodness's sakes. From there, a quick stop in Lowell, Massachusetts, paid homage to Jack Kerouac, natch. By day, Dylan and Allen Ginsberg made a pilgrimage to the grave to sit and wonder a while. By night, the roving gypsies became a possessed musical ensemble, jamming for four hours a show.

Vignettes -- some true, some conjured -- abound in the Scorsese film. Sam Shepard lured in Joni Mitchell who then wrote "Coyote" in reply. Virtuoso and tour-sound-defining violinist Scarlet Rivera had a sword fetish, or did she? Joan Baez donned a fedora and painted her face white in a commedia dell'arte tradition and was mistaken for Dylan by the roadies. The tremendous talent, Roger McGuinn of Byrds fame, took the stage with Bob in the most intense and eye-talking duet you'll ever see. And that first leg of the tour all culminated just on the eve of the bicentennial year at Madison Square Garden for the epic "Hurricane" concert with Muhammad Ali present to bless the cause of justice for the 'Hurricane'. Through their eponymous song, Jacques Levy and Bob Dylan brought the plight of falsely-accused boxing champ Rubin "Hurricane" Carter to the attention of the country. The song itself is a film -- an economically-written poem set to music whose narrative flickers through your mind with all the real-life characters and racists in full flesh.

I know that fireworks and picnics and bbqs and even the occasional military parade are the more traditional nods to national holidays. But by the time you've read this, it will already be the 5th. So treat yourself to streaming this film, and walk back in time with me to our bicentennial to think about all that has come since.

The best possible way to end this is in the words spoken by Allen Ginsberg at the end of the film musing on the raucous, joyful road trip and its ragtag ensemble:

"Take from us some example. Try to get yourself together, clean up your act, find your community. Pick up on some kind of redemption of your own consciousness, become more mindful of your own friends, your own work, your own proper meditation, your own proper art, your own beauty. Go out and make it for your own eternity."

In four sentences, Ginsberg redeemed himself forever for me. And how timeless these words are.

Readers, this is your community at a time we truly need one. The Block Association is a perfect example of what the Beat poet spoke. I know this was a long, winding way to get here. And don't misunderstand: it's still a great idea to get your vaccinations. But these were the thoughts jangling in my mind on the morning of July the fourth in the year two thousand and nineteen.

​Happy 243rd to U.S. all. And here's to a more perfect 'union' built together.

I couldn't find the clip with Ginsberg, but above is a whistle-wetter for the film of Dylan singing "One More Cup of Coffee." For those reading this in an email subscription, click here for the video above, here for the Fiedler video below and here for the Ford address at bottom with a great look at the tall ships of OpSail 1976.
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By Caitlin Hawke

The extraordinary Bloomingdaler Florence Clinton Sutro (1865-1906) came to my attention thanks to reader Wilbur J.

He also shared the interior shots below of her home, with husband Theodore, at 320 W. 102nd Street. Designed by Alonso B. Kight, the Renaissance Revival townhouse at 320 W. 102nd Street, was first occupied by the Sutros. The interiors were meticulously photographed sometime soon thereafter and below, thanks to Wilbur, you will find the rosetta stone to Bloomingdale living 125 years ago. Daybed and desk huddle near the grand fireplace. Heavy velvet drapery stands at the ready to buffer the winter entering through the main door. High molded and vaulted ceilings top off burnished wood trimming everywhere. And an impressive cast iron stove gives rise to imagining the meals that must have come out of the kitchen (below).

The Sutros were on the NYC circuit of elites. And Florence was in many a vanguard. Cultural, social, intellectual.

Depicted above at the time of obtaining her law degree, she was better known as a painter and musician. Her musical talent manifested at a young age; she took a $1000 prize at 13, besting 950 other young musicians with her interpretation of Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2. She went on to study at the Grand Conservatory of New York where she was the first woman to graduate with a doctorate in music, all the while displaying her paintings at the National Academy of Design. Urged on by her financier-lawyer husband to take up his field, she graduated in 1891 as valedictorian from her law program at the University of the City of New York. In 1895, she published her book Women in Music and Law -- for which I am now hunting a printed version, but view the Hathi Trust digitized version here. Quite the niche she targeted. But hers was a quest to raise the profile of women in the arts and probably the law, too.

Together, the Sutros were champions of women's suffrage. In an April 1894 suffrage meeting, to warm applause, Theodore said: "That women do not have the privilege of the ballot seems to me contrary to all ideas of justice in this free country. It is only in accordance with principles of logic - and I might say grammar - that the word 'male' should be stricken from the Constitution."

It is highly likely that Harriot Stanton Blatch and Florence moved in the same circle living just six blocks apart.

I have not yet scratched the surface of the lives of these erstwhile neighbors. Theodore's two brothers Otto and Adolph have intriguing trajectories. Adolph was the first Jewish mayor of San Francisco and responsible for the Sutro baths, the ruins of which are out by the Cliff House near Land's End, San Francisco.

Florence is best remembered as the founder of the National Federation of Women's Music Clubs where her mission was to undo the discrimination against female musicians who were "not able to excel...due to existing prejudice." 

One can easily imagine these parlor and study rooms below filled with guests and tunes and intellectual discussions of all in this world that is just and beautiful and artful and female.

Something like a slice of Bloomsbury in Bloomingdale. 


h/t to Wilbur J. for flagging the Sutros!

​If anyone has any photos of the West 103rd Street head house of the subway station in the median from any period, please share them: blog@w102-103blockassn.org. Wilbur and I are interested in all details about it and in particular good images of it over the years it existed.

By Caitlin Hawke


A holiday, the opening shot of summer, and a day to remember the fallen and our veterans.

Terence Hanrahan shared these two photographs from the nearby service in honor of our veterans today. And it got me thinking.

I've always had a thing for Memorial Day. It brings out the Main Street USA in all of us compelling young and old to stop and reflect. This year, it struck me as inconceivable that D-Day was 75 years ago. A VA estimate calculated nearly half a million WW2 vets are alive. That, too, is an incredible number, given it's out of more than the 16 Million who were enlisted. Those with personal knowledge of the combat are rarer than ever.

When I was 11, I met a middle-aged visitor who, I was told, was my cousin and had been taken prisoner and survived a concentration camp. It was hard for me to understand how this dashing foreigner with his exotic accent could be related, much less a survivor of something I couldn't much comprehend.  (He was in fact my grandmother's first cousin and hence my first cousin twice removed thanks to the two generations separating us). Over the years, I learned much more, not all good.

Family memories have probably garbled information that was passed to me, but the name of Texan Jack Williams looms large in my mind today. I was told by a great aunt that Williams was a 1st Commander in the 6th Infantry Division of the US Third Army led by General George S. Patton; the division was the liberating force at the Buchenwald concentration camp. Williams was put in charge of the Buchenwald refugees. Those refugees weren't at the camp when it was liberated because they'd been forced on a death march in advance of the US arrival by skittish guards who feared for their lives knowing Patton was upon them. In those confusing days after the camp's liberation, Jack Williams was good to my great, great uncle and his son in some of their harshest hours, Hungarian survivors of the war. To them, America was the greatest nation on earth.

For Memorial Day 2019, I find myself remembering all this, thinking of Jack Williams and the people in his division, all sparked by these photos of our neighborhood's commemorations.

By Caitlin Hawke

Neighbors, mark your calendars, save the date of May 17, and RSVP to DOROT for this special talk by Michael V. Susi. Michael is the historian extraordinaire of Columbia University and parts south. From his historic postcard collecting, he produced two excellent books chronicling the Upper West Side and the Columbia-Morningside Heights neighborhoods.

Alas, the books are rare and hard to find, but lucky for us he's planning this free talk on Friday, May 17, 12:30-2pm (DOROT, 171 W. 85th Street) on all the bygone beauties of Riverside Drive.

Trust me: Go!

By Caitlin Hawke

Neighbors, I don't think you'll regret coming out on Thursday evening at the youth hostel for this homegrown story about the now-gone applicance store, RCI, and the time when Mom & Pop businesses filled our streetscape. Hats off to the wonderful folks over at the Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group, a neighborhood treasure in and of itself.

I've been writing a lot about Mom & Pops on our blog pages. You can scroll through old posts here.
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By Caitlin Hawke

Some know her as Audrey. Some as Memory. She lies in suspended contemplation of those who perished on the Titanic, including Bloomingdalers and notable New Yorkers of their day, Ida and Isidor Straus.

The group named Friends of Straus Park invites you out to contemplate along with her on Saturday, April 13th. Details and a lot more of this history may be found in the flyer below.

I've written previously about Straus Park here, here and here. ​So brush up on your Bloomingdale, and, on April 13, come on out to the trivium where beauty lies in memory: Broadway, West End Avenue and W. 106th St.

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By Caitlin Hawke

The subway comes to Bloomingdale in this great shot on Broadway looking northwest from about W. 99th Street on the east side of Broadway. Note the three-story Grimm building at the NW corner of 100th Street and Broadway toward the right edge of this picture. (For more on the Grimm building, see prior posts here and here.  This shot is prior to the subterranean postcard I put up several years ago here.
Note, too, that the site soon to house the Whitehall on the SW corner at 100th Street is empty. 

By Caitlin Hawke

Behold 330 Riverside Drive, The Davis Mansion at West 105th Street (exact photo date unknown) now owned by Opus Dei and undergoing major interior renovations these past many months.

The Daytonian in Manhattan blog has written extensively about 330 Riverside Drive which was built on spec by Joseph Farley in 1902.

Neighbor Dan Wakin in his recent book about the stretch from 330-337 Riverside Drive also tells the story of the eponymous Davis Baking Powder fortune that enabled the Davis family to move into this beaut.

​Thanks to this building and the townhouses between Riverside Drive and West End Avenue, W. 105th Street has enjoyed landmark status far longer than most places around here. The landmarking report for the so-called "Riverside-West 105th Street Historic District" dates to Mayor Lindsay's days, compiled over several years. (I was amused to see the name Deborah S. Gardner as a main author of the report; she currently serves as the in-house historian of Hunter's Roosevelt House.)

An interesting aside for lovers of the "Bloomingdale" moniker: the landmarking initiative was originally referred to as the "Bloomingdale Historic District" but later changed to reflect greater specificity.

Landmark status was designated on April 19, 1973 by the Landmarks Commission citing the streetscape's visual harmony and fine preservation of the buildings.  By and large, the Beaux Arts buildings in the district -- all built within about three years of each other -- had the good fortune to have housed tenants of long occupancy and, as a consequence, suffered little remodeling, making them ripe for preservationists to rally around. For the report, I've extracted below the case to preserve 330 Riverside Drive and a description of its architectural features.

Also in this gem of a report, there is a fine history of the neighborhood and its development all the way back to the 1660s! It's worth clicking on the link above to read more.

Just a final thought: one must marvel at the date of 1973. Forty six years ago, our city and neighbors saw fit to protect the 30 buildings that sit in the shaded area of the map below, to lock in their existence for us all to enjoy, to ensure the neighborhood's grip on the past.  On your next walkabout, make a point of delecting this breathtaking block.

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The text below is an excerpt about 330 Riverside taken from the 1973 case to landmark the buildings in the bounded area above.

By Caitlin Hawke

Depicted below are numbers 863, 865, and 867 West End Avenue. This, of course, is the west side of the avenue, between W. 102nd and 103rd Streets, and it puts into perspective how the contemporaneous eight-story 855 West End Avenue stood tall on the avenue in its early days.

The residences below were built in the mid-1890s and are in keeping with those that still may be seen directly across the avenue on both the northeast and southeast corners of W. 102nd Street, which thankfully have been preserved as landmarks. To see what those looked like circa 1911, see this old post.

In 1923, the northern half of the block below was demolished to make way for Rosario Candela-designed 875 West End Avenue, and in 1924-25 the entire southern half of this block, including these three, was demolished for the construction of 865 West End Avenue, the apartment house on the NW corner of W. 102nd Street, also designed by Rosario Candela.

Candela was born in Sicily and emigrated in 1909, just the year before these photos were taken, to train at Columbia University. He earned his degree in 1915 and less than a decade later he was churning out luxurious designs for east and west side living. For more on Candela, see this piece or google him. Or better yet, just go outside and look up at pediments for the entwined carving 'RC', and you'll begin to see him everywhere.

The second shot, below, is the same three houses as above but a closer view of 863 and 865, taken in 1910. Notice detail of the doorways and the front stoops, and the figures in relief.

The maps above show, in 1912, the make up of West End Avenue, averaging 10 buildings per block.

By Caitlin Hawke

​Nice and simple today: The Marseilles in all her glory.  For another historic image of the Marseilles, see this post.

By Caitlin Hawke

Ok, for folks who park on the street, this post might get your Irish up. It entails the eventual loss of three parking spaces on Central Park West.

That's the bad news.  But the good news is that what I am about to report is a story of grassroots efforts to increase safety and improve aesthetics of "Strangers' Gate" -- the W. 106th Street portal to Central Park.

Thanks to neighbors' efforts, in particular to transportation advocate Peter Frishauf with help from Henry Rinehart, in mid-January Community Board 7 passed a resolution to improve access to this entrance to Central Park by opening the curb and prohibiting parking immediately outside it. Department of Transportation signage should be updated soon so that the approach will look like the photo below instead of the view in the photo above.

This will protect pedestrians who flow through Strangers' Gate, affording them better visibility of traffic on Central Park West and giving drivers a much better chance of seeing exiting and entering park goers.

I love the name of this gate and was vaguely aware that many of the park's entrances bear names. In fact, there are twenty named gates. Each honors a special population of New York City in an early nod to the fact that this vast green space was to be 'the People's Park.'  You might have been entering the park at W. 100th Street all these years and not have realized that that is Boys' Gate. Of course, anyone can go through it. But if you want to use Girls' Gate, you're going to have to go clear around to E. 102nd Street. Or you can pop down to the Dakota and enter through Women's Gate.

The key to the 20 gates is below.

The bitter irony of naming the gates for different NYC populations is that in creating Central Park, land was taken by eminent domain, and the African-American neighborhood known as Seneca Village was demolished in 1857. You won't see a Seneca Gate on the list below, but the rich history of Seneca Village is becoming better known.

The story has been told in recent plays and films, by creative writers, historians and archeologists. I will be posting more about it over the month of February. But while thinking about our newly visible Strangers' Gate, I wanted to pause and think about those who are largely invisible, those who were dispossessed of their homes, whose community was razed, and whose story was mostly lost -- all in the push to create a park that is a stranger to none of us.

Choose any of these 20 gates and enter this urban sanctuary with a thought toward Seneca Village on your way in.

By Caitlin Hawke

One of the posts I never got to last year was this charming shot. It comes from a gentleman who grew up around here and recalled, among other things, going to the Horn and Hardart automat, to the Armstead beauty salon (where Henry's was), to the TV store nearby and the candy store, Pollak's. Suba was Armstead Pharmacy back then and had a soda fountain where Mark's brother worked.

So readers may recall when the Hudes sign reappeared after the 103rd St. deli closed. Mark recalls that whenever he went into Hudes, the lady who ran it would give him half a salami sandwich.

Those were the days, my friends!

If you know someone who went to Booker T. in the early 1950s or if you know someone in the picture, email me with your stories! 

By Caitlin Hawke

This is the second in what you might think of as a diptych of posts. My last Throwback post digging into the story of the Beastie Boys' genesis in the Grimm Building led me down a long rabbit hole of fascination for the structure. If you didn't see that one, click here to read the nitty gritty Beastie story.

For part two now, here in images from 1867 to present is a documentation of that remarkably unchanged site, the NW corner of 100th Street and Broadway.

​It's rare that a building is so well documented over the years, so the gallery was great fun to pull together.

Recall in my prior post that this site does not enjoy landmarked status thanks to the gimme carveouts all along Broadway -- see the map on the prior post to understand what this means.

I don't know. Maybe I am just too in love with the past. But it defies any sort of reason or logic that our preservationists wouldn't protect this special building. Before the wonky land use and real estate savvy folks start to get impatient with me, I do get that it has been altered over the years, and that the Metro owners put a lot into it to bring it back from decrepitude.  But so many readers have a huge place in their Bloomingdale hearts for this one, it just seems like a no-brainer that we, as a community, might go the extra mile for this nigh on 150 year-old structure.

​Enjoy the picture show below.  

To navigate this photo gallery, click on the arrows or press the play button.
Note: If you are reading this in an email subscription, you may have to click on the
blog post title to view the gallery, or click here.