history

The largest cultural institutions of New York City like the Metropolitan Museum of Art, The American Museum of Natural History and New York Public Library, were established in the latter half of the 19th century and the early part of the 20th century. There was a major push among the wealthiest Americans to establish a cultural identity of our own. We were a young country, bereft of the cultural lineage that existed in Europe. Despite America’s youth we showed ourselves to be a vast country, devoted to the dollar, with seemingly room for little else. But men, like J.P. Morgan understood that life void of education and culture was a life not worth living. A balance must be met, to soften the edge of a hard capitalist society. Despite the controversy surrounding Morgan in regards to how he conducted himself in business, the fact remains that we owe much to him and others like him who bestowed great wealth on institutions, whose sole purpose was to enrich the lives of everyone and that tenet still holds today.

A number of years ago while in graduate school, I took part in a private tour of the Morgan Library. While we sat in Morgan's sumptuous jewel toned library, replete with priceless volumes from the 16th century to the 20th century, the speaker encouraged us to read Morgan: An American Financier by Jean Strouse. He described the book as the definitive biography of J. P. Morgan. At the conclusion of the tour, my mind a swirl in the world of J.P. Morgan, I made a mental note to myself to read Strouse’s lengthy tome. A few years later, I did.

After reading Strouse’s biography of Morgan, much impressed me about the man: his power, vision and his philanthropy. During the bridge years between the 19th and 20th century, tremendous energy was devoted to giving on a truly monumental scale. Morgan took the lead in giving among his peers. He perhaps more than any other of his colleagues combed the world over for treasures to fill the museums he was establishing back in America. With the steady intelligent eye of Bella de Costa Greene by his side, Morgan created a grand and lasting legacy. Every time I enter the Morgan Library or the Metropolitan Museum, I bow my head in thanks.

Please join Jean Strouse as she examines J.P. Morgan’s legacy in the arts on Wednesday, Oct. 28 @ 6:30 @ the Mid-Manhattan Library

Images of the Morgan Library courtesy of the Morgan Library
http://www.themorgan.org/about/historyMore.asp?id=11

Image of the Metropolitan Museum courtesy of: http://www.nyc-architecture.com/UES/UES074.htm

In the Rossville section of Staten Island there is a small little graveyard. It is hidden away, on the side of a two-lane road. This tiny graveyard seems out of place in an area that is dotted with light industry and that’s about it. The smattering of houses that probably once existed, as well as a store or two are long gone. Perhaps there was a ferry crossing here and a depot too, but whatever was here long ago is only represented by an early 19th century graveyard. The graveyard sits on a bit of land that is on the water, near the infamous Tugboat Graveyard. Stone stairs lead to a shaded spot, where the overhang of the trees acts as a natural screen, blocking any view from the street. No one has stopped by this graveyard in a long time. Maybe a dozen grave markers rest on either side of an overgrown path. Some gravestones are in very good condition, made of stone that has withstood nature’s natural erosion process. Other markers are in much poorer condition, almost bare with only a hint of letters on the face of the marker. The stone of these naked markers is sparkly with crystals and when you touch them, the crystalline grains of stone come right off in your hand. Sadly some markers sit in heaps of thin sheets of shirred brown stone on the ground. It has been years since anyone has taken care of this graveyard. At one time this was a visited place. People whose lives were taken from them while they were in their prime are buried here: children and men and women of varying ages, many quite young. These beautifully carved stones may have been the only relic remaining to give solace to the living for their loved ones who are buried at this graveyard.

At the time these stones were made, they were carved by hand. Chisels and mallets carved sinuous lines into the hard stone. No computer driven machine wrote the tender missive underneath the name and date of death on one stone. The elegant decorative design that is at the top of another marker was carved by a caring hand. Men with tremendous skill, cut into the hard stone in such a way that makes the letters look light, even ethereal. Some stones show a combination of writing styles. Script with arabesques may be followed by a heavily stylized letter design, and then followed by yet another style. The letters rest on an invisible line of unbelievable straightness. The beauty of these stones is the result of dedicated training, strong hands, simple stone carving tools and an intuitive design sense.

Please join us on Tuesday October 20th at 6:30 PM when Mid-Manhattan Library will be presenting New York’s Early Gravestone Imagery: The Artisans of the 18th Century Memorials in the Metropolitan Area with guest speaker John Zielenski.

Photographs courtesy of Peter and Genevieve:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/peteandgenevieve/3645700576/in/set-72157619...

Almost 30 years ago, my husband and I stood on a corner in Brooklyn, to watch the New York City Marathon. We were essentially alone watching the runners on that cool fall day so long ago. We watched, as a trickle of runners became thousands of runners, coursing through the streets of New York City, eventually to the large fanfare that would greet them in Manhattan along 1st Ave, Central Park South and in Central Park itself at the finish line.

Since that day, I have watched a lot of NYC marathons. I live on a street that is steps away from 4th Ave, the long stretch the runners hit as they come off the Verrazano’s Bridge. I leave my house early, grab a spot next to a traffic light on my corner, I place a step stool at the base. I bring a warm drink and I sit on the stool and wait. It will be hours before the main body of runners come. I cheer and clap as the early starters pass my spot. Sporadically, a few at a time come by, often with guides by their sides. I think about the commitment it takes to undertake such a feat. Soon my corner where I have set myself up becomes incredibly crowded. Police try to hold back the crowd, as spectators lean out far into the street to catch a glimpse. I now stand on my stool and over the heads of others; I can watch the mass of runners pour down the avenue better than anyone else. I scream, clap and shout the runners names who have them affixed to their jerseys. I become overcome with emotion and sometimes my eyes tear up. The sea of bobbing bodies that is the New York City Marathon, is my favorite event of the year.

What draws me to watch the NYC marathon year after year is the simplicity of the event. It is a footrace where runners take to the streets of New York, running an incredible distance, touching a foot in each of the boroughs to complete the race in the fastest time possible. On the surface that’s all there is to it and it’s free to watch. But it is the stark reality of a 26 mile race juxtaposed against the stories of each and every runner: from the elite runners to the everyday runners, some of whom just might be your neighbors, which make marathon watching such a pleasure. I often wonder what it would be like to inch my way forward to a finish line I could not even see, even if all 26 miles were laid out in a straight line right in front of me. Roughly 30 thousand runners from all over the world take part in the race every year. And every year I marvel at the beauty of the mass of runners as they come barreling down past my lamppost where I stand atop my stool. Arms raised, hands waving, I scream at the runners to forge ahead to the end and with joyful eyes and sometimes with shouts of enthusiasm of their own, the runners answer back and in an instant a bond is formed. On that day a part of them is in me and I in them, as I cheer to heavens “COME ON RUNNERS…YOU CAN DO IT….RUN, RUN, RUN…YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!!!!”

Liz Robbins, author A Race Like No Other, presented a program on the New York City Marathon at the Mid-Manhattan Library on Tuesday October 13th. Liz revealed that the reason why the New York City Marathon is so successful and different from any other marathon is that the race is in the streets of New York, a city of people. Two million race watchers line the street to watch the runners. And runners will testify to what a joy and pleasure it is to run through the neighborhoods, with people cheering, handing out water and marching bands playing music for them. The runners feed off the good energy of the spectators. And there is no race in the world that best does this than the New York City Marathon. During the program Liz asked some of the audience members who had ran the marathon before to talk about what it is like to run this race. Feelings of joy, accomplishment and camaraderie were touched up, as well as debilitating pain. What I found interesting is some participants in the audience did not consider themselves athletes. They took up running late in life, though now they are committed runners, with some having run in hundreds of marathons already.

Lisa Peterson-de Cueva attended Tuesday night's program and posted about the event on her blog.

Artists have long used the NYC subway system as a wellspring of ideas, using their experiences to express themselves by way of the written word, visually on film, in oils on canvas, pen to paper, prints and sculpture. Sometimes the artwork is officially sanctioned and sometimes it is not.

When I moved to New York the 1982 the subway system was like a traveling road show of urban expression. Graffiti covered the walls inside and out, where there was a space to make a mark a mark was made. It was a cacophony of visual noise, much of which I could not understand.

It was big, bold and brash, loud and lovely. The graffiti in the interior of the subway cars was mostly black and seemed to be signatures. However on the outside of the subway cars, the colors were vibrant, expansive and the voices unique. The artistic strokes that jacketed the cars were energetic and beautiful. The work was detailed, precise and great care was put into these displays. These were serious artists even if at the time their art was not considered serious but more of a nuisance. A visual revolution was taking place and much of it seemed inspired by the New York City subway system.

Early on, the New York City subway system commissioned artists and artisans to create beautiful designs to decorate the subway walls.

It was utilitarianism taken to its highest level, all for our pleasure. Grand decorative pieces of terracotta announce the station name and each station’s motif is different. Rich and varied colors accent the old crazed white subway tile. Interestingly the colors vary from station to station. In other stations not as grand but clearly as beautiful, wonderfully brilliant mosaics, made up of tiny squares imbedded into the walls create large rectangular plaques that display the station name. In one station the mosaics are made up of varying colors of matte finished squares and in another station the mosaics are of rich jewel tones and yet even another station’s mosaic could be of shimmery iridescent colors. These designs, though purposeful and formal are not in the least bit bland despite their context. On the contrary, they are lively, expressive and display a distinct individualism that is still refreshing a hundred years later.

In the early part of the 20th century, the mechanical wonder of the subway system was a catalyst for visual expression by some artists of the Futurist movement. The speed and power of moving trains lent itself nicely to the overall theme of this group which emabraced the energetic and accelerated pace of the world beginning at the 20th century. Paintings of the Futurists broke down motion in fractured slivers of color, like Max Weber’s 1915 painting Rush Hour, which is a visual display of the New York City rush hour commute done in kinetic geometric planes.

It is not unusual while riding the train to witness an artist sketching the passengers on the trains. In a number of quick fluid strokes, these artists capture the emotions of the people on the train. The sketches may be used later as a reference tool or may exist simply as lovely discreet items. Artists such as Marvin Franklin who as longtime subway worker used his first hand knowledge to create beautifully rendered paintings of the people who ride the trains. Elbow Toe is a street artist whose sketches of subways riders in lines of red ink are expressive and energetic.

Every morning thousands of people descend into the subway stations across the city, hundreds more wait on platforms for their trains to take them to their destination points. The train enters the station, doors open, people crowd into the cars, some sit, some stand, some read, some think and some look about, eventually the train moves, bumping along the tracks as it courses its way through the tunnels. It’s a scene repeated day in and day out, every month and every year for a hundred years. To the daily commuter it is simply a ride; to an artist it is a vast and endless opportunity.

Please join Tracy Fitzpatrick as she discusses her book Art and the Subway: New York Underground on Monday, Sept 14, at the Mid-Manhattan Library @ 6:30 PM

I have also included a link to javier hernandez-miyares blog featuring film clip of posterboy's art, an anonymous New York City based street artist whose only utensil is a razor. He is known for satiric college-like works created by cutting out sections of the self-adhesive advertisement posters in the platforms of New York City subway stations, and pasting them back in different positions.

The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane (2009) is Katherine Howe's first novel. Given the plot, comparisons between the author's life and her fictional heroine are inevitable, so they might as well be addressed sooner rather than later.

Howe is herself in a PhD program for American and New England History. Based on various family member's genealogy research, Howe's ancestors are also Elizabeth Howe and Elizabeth Proctor. Anyone familiar with Arthur Miller's classic play The Crucible will likely recognize the Proctor name. If not, let it be said that both Elizabeth Howe and Elizabeth Proctor were accused of practicing witchcraft in Salem, Massachusetts during the infamous Salem witch trials of 1692 (the event at the core of The Crucible).  read more »

“Men! Give Women Votes to Protect the Children!”

This sentiment, originating during WWI, is an example of the many tools first wave feminists used in their efforts to obtain the right to vote. Women of the first wave argued that the vote would allow them to fix social ills such as poverty, child labor, alcoholism, and the war, and they used these issues as political levers to achieve their suffrage goal. This was not a cynical calculation, however: these early feminists and suffragists believed in their causes and would go far to fight for them. Numerous activists were put on trial, arrested, force-fed, hounded and harassed in the papers for their adherence to the belief that women deserved a political voice, just like any man.

In the U.S., the first wave is generally considered the period from the mid-1800s, with the conference at Seneca Falls, through the installation of universal suffrage in 1920. While the women involved were most often from the privileged class, they understood a fact that is still central to the tenets of the feminist movement today: the condition of women as a whole has a great impact on the well-being of society. Thus, among the feminist causes of the era were pacifism, birth control, temperance, dress reform, Anarchism, free love, and the improvement of social and economic conditions for immigrants and the poor.  read more »

In the next coming weeks I will be hosting a series of programs on the subject of NYC sanitation. Below is a post devoted to the first program Gotham and Its Garbage: A History of Public Waste, Public Health and the Department of Sanitation. A Slide Lecture with Robin Nagle Ph.D.

No matter where you live or what your economic status is, in New York City garbage is your neighbor. You may live in a penthouse apartment and never actually touch the garbage yourself, but chances are you pass it all the time on the street. If you do live on a high floor, in a full service building, on garbage days you will undoubtedly notice a mound of filled fat black garbage bags piled high and long on the sidewalk curb, outside your building. When you have lunch at your favorite café, you may notice that the outdoor seating is beautiful but just beyond the greenery is a mound of black garbage bags. Everyone everywhere in New York City has an intimate knowledge of the garbage that is piled on any given block or corner on any given day. Like any disgusting entity, we choose to ignore what is a necessity and obvious nuisance rather than adequately address it. Not that any one of us could actually do anything to help change the way we process our trash. Because of this, we have an uneasy arrangement of being silent and patient, as the trash is picked up and hauled away. At the same time, we seethe with anxiety until the streets are empty of the big black bags that line the sidewalk at least twice a week, in front of where we live. For homeowners, it is hoped that no animal will tear into the bags for the chicken carcass resting inside or that a bottle collector will not aggressively rip through the plastic to get to a redeemable bottle, clearly visible through the blue plastic bag.

We live in probably the greatest garbage producing city in the world, with tons of trash being collected daily. Garbage collection has had an interesting history in New York City from swine roaming the streets as the first street sweepers, to white coated men who swept the street in the 19th century into the 20th century, to incinerators and transfer stations of present day and a host of recycling attempts. Early on in NYC’s sanitation history, garbage was transported to the piers of lower Manhattan, piled high into big barges and then brought out to sea and dumped. This practice went on for decades. The many changes of garbage collection in New York City has been initiated through political reform and public health campaigns, plus simply education, throwing trash out your window is not the way civilized human beings live. Garbage collection has also been closely associated with the underworld, where crime families controlled the dumping of commercial trash. New York City garbage collection is a complicated affair. From the beginning there were always problems and there still continues to be. Nonetheless trash must be collected and dumped and preferably “not in my backyard.”

Please join Robin Nagel as she presents Gotham and Its Garbage, on Monday June 8th, at 6:30 PM at the Mid-Manhattan Library.

I first learned about Stanford White in E. L. Doctorow’s book Ragtime. It was the lurid tale of lust and murder regarding Stanford White that remained in my mind until I moved to New York City many years ago. Over a long period of time, I have come to learn Stanford White was much more than the scandal that I first associated with him. Stanford White was a master designer and instrumental in many of the great architectural works of the city.

Without knowing it, I came across the legacy of Stanford White time and time again while living in the city. Slowly I learned many of the great architectural prizes that exist in the city are White's designs. There are Stanford White treasures all over New York and the ones that are gone nonetheless register prominently if only in photographs. For example the long gone great Penn Station was designed by the prestigious architectural firm of McKim, Mead and White. I had been looking at images of Penn Station long before I moved to New York in the early 80’s. Penn Station’s demise in 1963 by no means crushed the spirit and importance of this building. Tragically its structure was destroyed for something inferior, but the old Penn Station’s voice speaks loud and clear from the many photographs that exist.  read more »

By the time I was old enough to understand the relationship between food and culture, it was already too late for me. It seemed like food and culture and the relationship between the two all but died where I came from. I lived in Detroit up until the riots of '68 and then afterwards my family moved to a rural landscape. In a very short time farmland became a busy bustling series of suburbs. It was one massive series of highways, subdivisions and strip malls. If there was any local food identity or culture it was all but eaten up in chain establishments.

Chains took over where mom and pop food businesses reined, long standing food venues where shuttered closed. My father, who was a waiter, worked in one of the finest restaurants in the city of Detroit. In the 1970s the once solidly established restaurant scene tried to hold on during tornado like changes, my father was relegated to wearing a long white apron and plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up (no more tux and bowtie) and serving lousy pizza to patrons, who sat at tables covered in red and white checkered tablecloths. The once revered Caucus Club stood out like a sore thumb with new blinky lights beckoning customers to come in.

It wasn’t till I moved to New York that I discovered a deeply rich tradition of food culture, both formal and informal. From my favorite local French restaurant Moutard to the summer time street fairs in the Italian neighborhoods, the culture of food thrives in New York City. Food is so alive in this city that everything seems to be centered around the table, be it at a beloved restaurant or at a friend’s house for a gathering or a picnic lunch with family in Prospect Park. Food is the glue that melds all the different cultures in New York City. Everyone has a food history, and it isn’t Ruby Tuesday’s or Dunkin Donuts. Sure there are chain eateries around but the independents are thriving too. God love them both. And in those independents are the seeds of many new food traditions and cultures.

Gastropolis: Food and New York City, editors Annie Hauck-Lawson and Jonathan Deutsch have compiled a list of essays about food in New York City. The book examines food in places, food and people, food and trade and food and symbols. Some essays examine New York City food history, like Harley Spiller’s essay "Chow Fun City: Three Centuries of Chinese Cuisine in New York City," while Annie Hauck-Lawson’s essay "My Little Town: A Brooklyn Girl's Food Voice" examines food culture by way of an intimate portrayal of her family growing up in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Gastropolis is both enjoyable and informative, an excellent partner to bring when you are dining alone at your favorite restaurant.

On Monday April 13 at the Mid-Manhattan Library, at 6:30, please join us as editors Annie Hauck-Lawson and Jonathan Deutsch discuss food culture in New York City.

This Friday, the Milstein Division will be offering a free class on the best online resources to use in researching New York City’s history. I invite all students, history buffs and library lovers to come to the Humanities and Social Sciences Library to find out more about all the databases and websites used to research the people and the events that contributed to our city’s history. For this month’s class, I’ll be focusing on the history of this library’s immediate neighborhood – from the Crystal Palace and the Croton Reservoir to the wealthy inhabitants of swanky Fifth Avenue. We’ll be looking at census records, old photographs and postcards, maps, and newspapers to search for the stories, records and documents the neighborhood and its residents have left behind.

Here are the details:
Class: Digital Gotham
When: Friday, December 19th; 3:15-4:15
Where: South Court classrooms (1st Floor)
Humanities & Social Sciences Library
42nd Street & Fifth Avenue

I'm looking forward to seeing you there.

My colleague Susan Waide put me onto the illustrations you see here and in my next post. They’re all advertising illustrations by M.C. Woodbury, executed between 1920 and 1922, for the McCallum Hosiery Company in Northhampton, Massachusetts. I love them for their period feel, and for what they say about fashion advertising in the U.S. at that time.

We’ve grown so used to lingerie ads that are filled with sexual angst, or at least that’s what I remember from fashion magazines since I was young, and still see today. What strikes me about these two ads is the sweetness portrayed in the imagery. A modish, obviously style-conscious young woman is featured, while one of her stockings is in peril from a precocious bird or kitten. A boudoir setting is implied, but the overall effect is one of whimsy. Such illustrations say a lot about the marketing outlook of advertising and manufacturing companies.

In this case, there’s a charm and an innocence that will eventually get lost in the process of product selling. The advertising staff for McCallum are counting on the feminine delight in a luxury such as a silk stocking. Their slogan appears as a caption, “You just know she wears them.” And so the process begins of linking desire with need.  read more »

← Daniel Boone's cabin" (NYPL Digital Gallery)

Folk singer Pete Seeger looked up 'log cabin' at The New York Public Library when he wanted to build a home in upstate New York, according to a recent New Yorker interview*. Curious, I repeated his query in the CATNYP catalog starting with a simple search for "log cabin*" (the asterisk wildcard finds both singular and plural). Now I've posted a guide to these resources, attached below and downloadable from the library's web site.

I wonder if Seeger learned his cabin craft from How to Build Your Home in the Woods (1952). More recent, The Science Industry and Business Library has Log Cabin Construction (1975), Building a Log Home from Scratch or Kit (1983), or the muscular-sounding Building the Hewn Log House (1978). A modern-day Seeger with a current library card could borrow Cottage, Cabin & Vacation Home Plans (2007) from SIBL's first-floor Branch Library.  read more »

According to Stokes Iconography of Manhattan Island, on October 8, 1908 a city ordinance was passed changing the name of Blackwell’s Island Bridge to Queensboro Bridge.

Further research into Stokes Iconography provides more history about the Queensboro Bridge.

The city began proceedings to acquire the land on April 25, 1900. On November 15 the common council passed “an ordinance to provide for the construction of a new bridge over the East River between the boroughs of Manhattan and Queens.” On February 23, 1901 the plan for the construction was approved. “The bridge is to be constructed on the cantilever principle, is to be 150 feet wide and 2,710 feet long, and is to cost $5,740,000.” Construction began in July. On March 18, 1902, the Board of Alderman passed “an ordinance naming the bridges across the East River. This provides that: 1, the New York and Brooklyn Bridge shall be designated the Brooklyn Bridge. 2, the new East River Bridge shall be designated as the Williamsburg Bridge. 3, Bridge No.3, crossing the East River, shall be designated as the Manhattan Bridge. And 4, Bridge No.4 crossing the East River shall be designated as the Blackwell’s Island Bridge.”

(FYI: the entry following the March 18, 1902 entry in Stokes has nothing to do with the bridges but it is the kind of interesting and quirky information that this reference source is full of: “April 1902 – About this time ping-pong had the vogue that Mah Jong came to have in 1920 and the cross-word puzzle in 1924. – Sullivan, Our Times (1926).”)

In January 1907 the proper approaches were planned, with the commission recommending a “diagonal approach to Blackwell’s Island Bridge from Second Avenue to 57th Street; that the street car tracks on 59th Street be depressed under Fifth Avenue, and that 60th Street be widened by 100 feet.” On October 8, 1908, as mentioned above, the name of the bridge was changed to Queensboro Bridge, which officially opened on March 30, 1909.

Coincidentally, 58 years after the name change, almost to the day, on October 10, 1966, this album was released with a catchy song that used the colloquial numerical name of the bridge in the title.

(Image from NYPL Digital Gallery)

I've just begun reading Nancy Mitford's essay collection The Water Beetle and have learned that this author's name can be added to the list of notable needlewomen who contributed to the World War I effort.

In "Blor," the first essay in this collection, she recollects how she crocheted for the cause:
"I was soon sitting like a tricoteuse, on the balcony of Grandfather Redesdale's house in Kensy High Street, crocheting an endless purple scarf while the troops marched by on their way to France. (There was no khaki wool to be had so early in the war--you took what you could get.)"

Soon after, she apparently obtained a supply of khaki yarn:
"I fell in love with Captain Platt in my father's regiment, an important General of the next war, and crocheted endless pairs of khaki mittens for him--I am not sure that they were inflicted on him. In any chase, all this crocheting was the nearest I ever got to killing an enemy, a fact which I am still regretting."

In 1914, Nancy Mitford would have turned just ten years old. To learn more about the life of Nancy Mitford, you can read books about her that the Library has at the Humanities & Social Sciences Research Library or those available for checkout at the branches.

In my last post a few weeks ago I wrote of the history of rioting and protesting in Tompkins Square Park. New York has always been a riotous city, where citizens have time and time again taken to the streets to demonstrate, strike and protest. Over the centuries the nature and character of these events has evolved, as has the reaction of the general public and the police to these group manifestations of displeasure. The subject of popular disorder and collective action or violence tends to be a fairly popular topic among researchers at the library and I’ve found that studying riots and strikes in New York provides a great way to gauge the social and economic climate of the city at different points in time.

Early on in the city’s history, from colonial times up until the first decade of the 19th century, rioting in New York was generally an accepted part of the city’s political culture, a legacy of English tradition. Many scholars who have written on the history of public protest in early America note that prior to the 1830s, most of the protests and more violent riots were of two kinds; either they were of a distinctly political nature, such as the post-revolutionary Anti-Federalist riots, or they were aimed at enforcing community standards and widely held moral values, such as the Doctors’ Riots in 1788 or the bawdy house raids of 1793 and 1799.  read more »

A view of San Quentin. (Image from NYPL Digital Gallery)

I've been reading World War I-era newspapers lately (using America's Historical Newspapers, a full-text database available at NYPL), in a search of mention of famous knitters on the home front whose flying fingers supported the war effort. And yesterday I found a small article from the Daily Alaska Dispatch that painted a vivid picture of such efforts. A report from San Francisco published Dec. 7, 1917, begins: "Knitting needles are flying in the cells and workshops at the San Quentin and Folsom state penitentiaries, and a big assortment of socks, sweaters and other sartorial comforts are being turned out for the American troops in France and in the domestic service." As the article goes on to explain, both men and women inmates knit their bit, via programs administered by the Red Cross.

I'll continue reading and with luck will report on other knitters of note in the future.

Our visual world is made up of many bits and pieces. It is the fragments merging together to make up a whole that really make a difference in what we see. Taken alone, these individual parts tend to go unnoticed by most people. For example in architecture, it is the color of the stone, the decoration, the lettering on the sign above the door or the carved letters on a gravestone that help define the structure and create a feeling.

Lettering is a small part of the ornamentation of an architectural structure. It is generally the colossus of the structure itself that grabs the eye first, but if you look carefully and take in the entirety of a structure, a visual reward is there waiting and it is often in the letters of the words that adorn it.

Words are as much a part of our visual landscape as the buildings, streets and trees or the people we see every day. A vibrant visual world indeed. Many of us are inured to the most vulgar visual sights, as well as the sublime. Some of us don’t even notice the first spring flowers or the glowering flashing lights of a neon sign, advertising a dingy car service business. We may take a second glance but we easily move on, letting our eyes wonder aimlessly, registering nothing. But really there is much to admire in the letters of the words that plaster our visual landscape. It is the design of the letters that make words noticeable. Most us recognize what we like in structures all over the city without really even knowing why. Buildings are adorned with incised or raised letters above entryways, signs are brightly lit and splashes of paint in cryptic words jump off building walls on dimly lit streets. These visual displays are designed as a feast for our eyes and it is impressive and purposeful.

On Sept 2. at 6:30 PM, on the 6th floor, Mid-Manhattan will host a FREE slide lecture program From Gravestones to Graffiti: 250 Years of Lettering in New York, with guest speaker Paul Shaw. Paul Shaw is a designer and design historian. His specialty is lettering, whether written, drawn, carved or typographic. He teaches at Parsons School of Design and at the School of Visual Arts. He is also the author of Looking for Letters in New York: A Tale of Surprise and Dismay. Paul Shaw is the recipient of many prestigious grants and lectures widely. Mr. Shaw is an expert on the subject of letters and can speak eloquently on the design, complexity and craftsmanship of letters that are everywhere from subway signs, to grave markers, to graffiti. Please join us for a wonderful evening.

Books on letter design and graffiti can be found at the library in both the circulating and non-circulating catalogs. Also at the Picture Collection at the Mid-Manhattan Library, there are an abundance of images on letters/alphabets/graffiti that can be viewed.

More upcoming programs at Mid-Manhattan.

An article on Paul Shaw by New York Times' Streetscapes columnist Christopher Gray.

This week marks the 20th anniversary of the protest in Tompkins Square Park that devolved into a 5-hour long clash between police, East Village residents and other park habitués. The day following the riots the New York Post dubbed the incident "Night of Rage" while the Daily News ran with "Tompkins Park Fury." However, there wasn’t just one violent confrontation to be remembered. Rather there were a series of demonstrations and pitched protests during the eighties and early nineties between older residents, newcomers to the neighborhood, the police, neighborhood squatters, and the younger crowd that frequented the park and surrounding streets.

The protests and clashes of late July and early August 1988 were alternatively described in the newspapers as being a result of a newly instated 1 A.M. park curfew, the influx of homeless camped out there, the noise of the crowds that gathered in the park to play music and hang out, and the overarching dispute over housing and perceived gentrification of the neighborhood. These were the years when “Die Yuppie Scum” seemed a valid and meaningful protest chant and graffiti often expressed other anarchist desires and pipe dreams. What drove the August 6th anti-curfew protest over the edge was not only the rowdy and violent behavior of some of the protesters that night, but the extreme reaction of the police force to the protest.  read more »

Wishing they knew how to keep their tea warmer, no doubt. (Image from NYPL Digital Gallery)

After reading a recent article in Australia's Age about the demand for unique handcrafted tea cosies made by volunteers in Pascoe Vale, Australia, I became curious about the past and present status of the cosy.

According to Richard Rutt in A History of Hand Knitting, the first documented use of a tea cosy was in 1867. Tea cosies flourished during the Victorian era, a period in which homemakers were obsessed with the decoration or covering of any and all available objects.

Tea cosies had their heyday on this side of the Atlantic as well, as the newspapers of the late nineteenth century reveal. An Oct. 20, 1892 article in the Philadelphia Inquirer reported that "cosies are enjoying a sudden and unexpected rise in public favor" among women who hosted afternoon teas in their reception rooms. In Boston, a town with quite a reputation when it comes to tea parties, an issue of the Boston Journal (Nov. 25, 1879) included in its women's advice column an explanation of just what a tea cosy is--"simply a wadded covering for your teapot"-- and hints on making one: "Some very handsome ones are made of remnants of heavy brocade, but linen is generally used, embroidered or not, according to taste, as these covers are washable. Make the covering large enough for your teapot and provide a ring at the top to lift it off with." I read these articles in America's Historical Newspapers, an excellent database which enables you to find what you want fast in old American newspapers--it's available at all Library locations.

What is happening in the world of contemporary tea cosies? Teapotmania: The Story of the British Craft Teapot and Teacosy provides some answers. This exhibition catalog for a 1995 show at the Norfolk Museums and Archeology Service on contemporary British artists' and artisans' embrace of the teapot and teacosy as artistic forms provides both historical context as well as plenty of illustrations of the objects included in this exhibition. Artists of both pottery and needlework will find inspiration in the work of the artists represented here. Additionally, this museum's teapot collection now numbers almost three thousand teapots that can be browsed at their website. And if etsy is any guide, then there is both an interest and a market for handmade cosies today--search tea cozy AND tea cosy to be sure that you don't miss out.

It turns out that you need not drink tea in a cold drafty home to appreciate a fine cosy, after all.

Exciting news: The New York Public Library has received a very important gift from the Genealogical and Biographical Society. To read more about it, see the press release found on our website and the New York Times article from Saturday's paper.