First Avenue & 66th Street

I read Summery.org and I get jealous (I mean man, who is this woman?).  Posts like this one and this one especially.  It must be amazing to live somewhere where you can walk into a building that’s 500, or a 1000, or sometimes 2000 (0r more!) years old – to have such ready access to the relics and reminders of these whole other ways of being human that once existed on the earth.  And what relics!  I mean, how do you top them?  I’ve sometimes wondered that about the Europeans of today – do they feel in some inherent sense that they’re simply living amongst the remnants of their golden age?  Like they have to face daily the physical artifacts of what must have been the high point of their culture?  I mean, don’t get me wrong, despite what I might sometimes think I wouldn’t have really wanted to live back then myself, what with the plagues and the torture and the warfare, the public executions and the lack of toilet paper.  Still, to be able to wander amongst those relics in some kind of hazy dream of antiquity would be nice.

Here in New York the closest we can get to that is approximations and replicas – though some of them can do the trick, in a pinch.  The St. John Nepomucene Church has struck me as a decent one of late.  Their church building on First Avenue and 66th Street is the parish’s third since its founding in 1895, though it was the first one on this location; the parish started in a building on East 4th Street and then moved to East 57th Street before landing here.  Despite its appearance this church wasn’t built until 1925 – though again I guess you wouldn’t have thought that it’s been here since the 700s.  That’s kind of the look it has right?  It was modeled on the Sicilian Romanesque style (hey I just remembered that I wrote about the Romanesque style once in my oft recalled yet long forgotten youth).  Those lions kind of remind me of Venice too – back before people knew what lions really looked like.  The church itself is actually a Roman Catholic Slovak congregation but clearly the architect – John V. Van Pelt by the way – chose not to go that architectural route…though to be honest I’m not sure what a Roman Catholic Slovak architectural route would actually look like anyway.

Though the Nepomucene in the church’s name refers to its Slovakian heritage, so they’ve got that going at least.  It’s in honor of Saint John of Nepomuk – not to be confused with Saint John the Apostle (also known as Saint John the Evangelist, and the only apostle by the way not to die a martyr’s death) or Saint John the Baptist (he had his head cut off by King Herod) or Saint John Fisher (also beheaded, by King Henry VIII) or Saint John Houghton (drawn and quartered) or any of the other maybe 75 or so Saint Johns – no this was the one who died by being thrown into the Vltava river.  He was thrown into the Vltava River, the story goes, by King Wenceslaus because John of Nepomuk – the confessor of the Queen of Bohemia, King Wenceslaus’ wife – refused to divulge the secrets of her confession.  So yeah.  You know that Christmas carol “Good King Wenceslaus”?  Well that fucker threw this guy into the river!

Or actually not – the Wenceslaus of  Christmas cheer was Wenceslaus I, Duke of Bohemia, supposedly assassinated by his brother Boleslav the Cruel (no relation to Vigo the Carpathian) in 935 and elevated to sainthood sometime later; he was also posthumously named a king and is seen today as the patron saint of the Czech state.  The Wenceslaus who drowned Saint John of Nepomuk in the river was King Wenceslaus IV, a member of the House of Luxembourg and King of Bohemia (by inheritance) as well as the German King (by election – by a bunch of princes, not the common people) and ruling under the name King of the Romans, which I believe means he was a Holy Roman Emperor – ruling from Prague.  All of which just goes to show that the world back then really didn’t make much sense.  But I don’t know, does it make much more sense now?  I’m writing this on a magical machine that I don’t understand at all – that will somehow allow these words to appear on a screen wherever in the world you might be sitting as long as it has something called an internet connection.  I don’t know; we don’t make buildings the way they did back then, I’ll give em that.  Although there’s little threat I might be drawn and quartered for anything that I might do or say or simply think – or even be thrown into a river for it.  That’s kind of nice.  I’m sipping on an iced coffee.  I don’t believe in Jesus.

Vanderbilt Avenue & Sterling Place

All right, it’s time to start talking about someone other than the rich folks for a change. But man, it can be hard; I seem especially drawn toward corners distinguished by large landmarks, ornately designed and realized — material wealth made flesh, or stone at least. Old mansions, skyscrapers, fancy apartment buildings. What can I say? I’m a classy guy, with a reserved and undemanding disposition and a fine, peppery after-taste.  A nice mellow finish. You might also pick up on some subtle notes of blueberry, lemon peel, and tar. I go very well with most Italian foods, goldfish, and egg salad. Or anytime you wanna get the gang together and just have a little fun!

Oh boy. So what else is there to look at in this city? Do I really need to ask that question? The other day I passed by the old Public School 9 Annex, on Vanderbilt Avenue and Sterling Place in Prospect Heights. It’s across the street from the original Public School 9, which is now Intermediate School 340. They’re both beautiful buildings, although it’s the Annex that particularly catches the eye. P.S. 9 goes back to 1868, finished before Prospect Park was completed, and just a few years after horse-drawn streetcars had opened up the neighborhood to urban (or suburban) development. Population growth was enough to warrant additions built in 1887, and by 1895 the overcrowding necessitated an entirely new building, the Annex, to be constructed across the street. P.S. 9 was designed in a Romanesque Revival style and the Annex kept along in that same vein, although more spectacularly. Apparently by 1895 Romanesque Revival, used throughout Brooklyn in the decades before, had become a bit unfashionable and out of date. I’m glad they stuck with it though. This is one of the prettiest old school buildings in all of New York.

The “they,” specifically, who stuck with it was James W. Naughton, the Superintendent of Buildings and Repairs for the Brooklyn Board of Education from 1879 to 1898. He was responsible for the design of all of Brooklyn’s public schools during that time period, and a large number of them are landmarked sites today. His predecessor, and the designer of P.S. 9, was Samuel B. Leonard, who had served in the post since its creation in 1859.  A lot of his designs still stand as well, including P.S. 34 in Greenpoint, on Norman Avenue, one of the oldest public schools still in use in the city today.  Both men were the only two to ever hold the title of Superintendent of Buildings.  James Naughton’s death in 1898 coincided with the annexation of Brooklyn by New York, at which point the Board was subsumed into the much larger New York City municipal government.

The city of Brooklyn was one of the earliest in the United States to start organized public education, beginning in 1816.  By the time it became a part of New York it was amongst the most extensive school systems in the country.  Now sure, I’m a fan of all things Brooklyn, but doesn’t that seem appropriate?  I mean it was Brooklyn, or New York in general, that invented public living, right?  Though that’s not quite it; public living – a social community inhabiting the same physical space – is humankind’s initial social paradigm.  I should say Brooklyn carried on the torch for public living, as most of the rest of America perhaps moved away from it.  You know what I’m saying?  You gotta live it right out on the streets in this burg, cause where else is it gonna happen?  Your business is everybody’s business, whether you want it to be or not, and vice versa — there’s no lawns and driveways separating us.  And that’s exactly how it should be.  If nothing else, New Yorkers are familiar; that’s where all the other stereotypes about their attitudes come out of.

Myself, the only reason I was even in this neighborhood was because I’d come down to wash my friend’s dishes, at a fee of $20 an hour, pro-rated, with a meal included equal to at least $6 in value.  Now how’s that for making the private space public?  It worked out pretty well.  The meal was good sushi, although I also had to empty out the garbage afterwards.  No biggie.  I think he asked me not to tell his girlfriend about it though.  Well sorry sucker!  This is Brooklyn, ya heard?

(Originally posted May 29th, 2009 on Takethehandle.com)

16th Street & Rutherford Place

So here’s a news flash — I like old things. I especially like old architecture. It’s one of the reasons I don’t live in a place like Phoenix, or the Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill area. Sure I’m biased, but what do people do out there? I mean what do they look at, besides the dashboard console when they’re adjusting the AC inside their car? I liked to be stopped short on the street by a perfect row of houses, or maybe just the quiet of an intersection. I like to live in anticipation of that unexpected city scene, a new angle or juxtaposition of buildings that you’ve never seen before. These things are all important. They have the weight to hold you somewhere. And somewhere is a good place to be, as opposed, perhaps, to anywhere. Do you know those lists that magazines or websites will put out: the top whatever places to live in the USA? And it’s always some city like Moorhead, Minnesota on the top? That’s anywhere. That’s some formula involving housing prices, crime rate, and job availability. Go move there and listen to satellite radio, the reception’s always really good.

Myself, I’ll stick around here. Now sure, if I were really serious about old things I guess I would be living in Europe, or China, or Iraq. The main thing you’re gonna get in these parts are recreations and revivals of those certainly more ancient styles. I’ll still take it. And besides, isn’t there something about the 19th century city that really strikes some archetypal chord with people? Like somewhere in our collective insides there’s something made to click, and to agree this shit is simply beautiful?

Which brings me to Stuyvesant Square, between 15th & 17th Streets, and cut in two by Second Avenue. The eastern half isn’t much to look at, crowded round by Beth Israel Medical Center monoliths, and the old Stuyvesant High School. But the western half is surrounded by some beautiful 19th century blocks of brownstones and churches. 16th Street and Rutherford Place are at the heart of it, with Saint George’s Episcopal on one side, and the Quaker run private school, Friend’s Seminary, on the other. The Seminary includes a large brick meeting-house completed in 1861. But it’s Saint George’s that I think really takes the cake here. What can I say, I like medieval-looking churches.

It was built on this spot between 1846-56, after the congregation decided to move from its downtown location on Beekman Street. At its completion, it was considered one of the finest examples of Early Romanesque Revival church architecture in the United States. Romanesque architecture predates the Gothic Style, which it evolved into, and corresponded roughly with the Dark Ages, or I should say, the Early Middle Ages (see the latest Built to Last for more on that distinction). I love this style! I didn’t know I loved it until yesterday, but anything that combines Western Roman and Byzantine features has got to be a hit. Buildings of its type spread all across Europe, but there’s something in its simple rounded arches and symmetry that makes it seem most at home in a sun-drenched Mediterranean setting. Now sure, this particular church is Romanesque Revival, not Romanesque itself, but hey, I’m not gonna split hairs here. I’m all for architectural revivals of any kind. We can say of the past, these people came before us, and maybe they just found the best shit out there. Maybe there are only so many modes of expression. I went to the Metropolitan recently, and as always I was blown away by the sheer scope of the collection. But at the same time I thought, this is pretty much representative of everything humanity has created throughout its history, and still, it fits into one (giant) building. We’ve gone through modern already, and now post-modern, so what comes next? I say keep sticking with the Romanesque. Nice solid arches.

(Originally posted Feb. 20th, 2009 on Takethehandle.com)