Statue Ellis Symphony

This is not a new musical arrangement.  It's shorthand for my extremely busy day.

Statue = Statue of Liberty
Ellis = Ellis Island
Symphony = Symphony Space (offers literature and film programs as well as performing arts)

Statue of Liberty
I left my apartment yesterday at 6:30am to get down to Battery Park.  Even though I had a timed ticket for 8am to go over to the Statue of Liberty, I was scarred from my last experience trying to do this tour.  (There was a two-hour wait without a reserved ticket.)  I figured they loaded the boat around 7:30 and left at 8am.  In reality, they loaded the boat at 8:30-ish and we left the dock around 8:50.  Oh well.

I reserved a ticket without crown access, but I had monument access.  If you'll pardon the pun, accessing the monument was, well, monumental.  There was yet another security line (in addition to the security check to get on the boat) with intense scrutiny.  In the interest of preserving the safety of the statue, I won't detail what that security is, but it amounted to yet another line that took about 30 minutes to get through.

Being inside the base of the monument was interesting.  There was a museum that described the history of the statue, some of the controversy around it, why the French gave it to the US, how it was shipped and assembled, etc.  The original torch (as seen in the picture to the left) was also on display. It was damaged when new lights were installed.

I learned that Emma Lazarus (the woman who penned the poem that included "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free...") wrote this poem The New Colossus and donated it as a fund raiser for the pedestal on which the statue would sit.  (The statue actually sat in storage for a year or so after it was received because the pedestal hadn't been built.  At one point, the builders ran out of money.  This sounds very 21st century!) 

While the statue's opening day was in 1886, a plaque with the poem wasn't placed on it until 1903.  (Several years later, if I understood correctly, the poem was inscribed in the actual pedestal of the statue.)  Lazarus, the daughter of Portuguese Sephardic Jews, died - at age 38 - a year after the statue opened.  She never knew of this honor.
  

After viewing the museum, I climbed a great number of steps (maybe 168?) to go to the viewing platform.  (I was sucking wind by the time I got there.)  I got some interesting views of Lady Liberty this way.  She's amazingly large.  (According to the museum, her shoe size is an 800+.)

There were also great views of the harbor and the New York skyline.

 

From Bledsoe's island, the island on which Lady Liberty stands, I headed on the 5 minute ferry ride to Ellis Island.

Ellis Island

When leaving the ferry and walking into the building on Ellis Island, you walk the same path into the same buidling that all of those immigrants came through.  You feel their presence when doing that. 

I can't fathom what it must be like to leave one's country with little or no possessions and no grasp of the language of the country to which you are going.  I also can't understand the longing for a better life and the pain that must have been faced to make the gut-wrenching decision of leaving a mother, brother, father, sister, or spouse behind.  When staring at the immigrant pictures that are scattered throughout the building, it's tempting to look deep in their soulful eyes and try to figure out their stories.

An excellent audio tour walks you through the path the immigrants took through the building.  It also explains the fear the immigrants faced as they had to do some things that occurred in their own countries that often ended badly - dealing with uniform officers and splitting women/children from men.

After they deposited any bags or luggage they had, the immigrants had to walk up a staircase (which today's tourist does, too) to be processed.  This was done by design.  Unbeknowst to the weary immigrants, doctors were watching them come up the stairs - looking for physical ailments and general well-being.  The picture on the left shows the beautiful tiled-ceiling that greeted them on the second floor.

Immigrants were screened for mental and physical impairments.  Those that were deemed "idiot, imbecile, moron" (there was one more but I can't remember it) were not allowed into the US.  Those with physical ailments that could not be cured were sent home, too.  There was a hospital on the island so immigrants were treated and many restored to health.  (Many Jewish people were often in poor shape when they arrived because they didn't eat the non-Kosher food offered on the boats.  Even otherwise strong people were also weakened because the rations on the ship were meager.)  Over 4,000 people died on Ellis Island.  About 2%, which, at the height of immigration was about 1,000 per month, were sent back to their countries.  How sad.  In either case - death or physical/mental disease - these people made a grueling journey but fell short of their goal.

One particulary interesting test of mental competency can be seen on this sign.  This speaks volumes on cultural differences, and made me wonder how many people were sent back to Europe because of cultural misunderstandings.  I believe those who were sent back because of misunderstandings were balanced by those who stayed because they "beat" the system. 

There were stories of soft-hearted US immigration officials (as well as crooked ones).  There was also a story of a entire family and the daughter who developed warts on her hand during the journey across the Atlantic.  Her lapel was marked in chalk, as was the process, to indicate she needed a further health screening.  The family was panicked.  What would happen if their young daughter was refused after the parents and other children had been cleared?  What anguish they must have experienced.  Then, someone told them to have their daughter turn her coat inside-out to hide the chalk marking.  The lining of the coat was silk so apparently what she had done didn't seem obvious.  It worked because she never had the secondary screening and the whole family was able to stay.

People who travelled first- and second-class were able to leave the ship and go right to their destination.  (Only about 1/3 stayed in NY.)  Steerage class passengers were the ones who came through Ellis Island.  This does not mean the first- and second-class passengers were not screened; they were.  They were screened over in Europe by the shipping company and they were also screened while onboard by doctors.  The shipping companies had a vested interest in vetting the passengers because the company was responsible for taking anyone back who did not meet the US requirements.  This was an expense they did not want to incur so they were diligent in their screenings.

There is a an excellent, 45-minute moving that further describes the history of the island and has poignant black and white pictures and video of the immigrants.  Immigrants, many very elderly now, share their stories of the oppression they faced in their old countries and what this country means to them.  It was lump-in-your-throat listening.  One immigrant shared he was asked what is last name was.  He told the officials, who asked him how to spell it.  He didn't know and he was told, "Sounds like L-i-c-h-t" so that became his last name.  This reminded me of my friend's dear father who came through Ellis Island as a boy.  His name was Sean Gillespie and, through the processing of his paper work, he became John Gillespie.  (Who really knows how his last name was spelled in Ireland?  Ellis Island has about a dozen variations of "Gillespie.")

Ellis Island stopped being used around 1954 and fell into considerable disrepair until the 1980's.  This is when the National Park Service started to restore it.  It's so well worth the visit.  I recommend, however, that you use their online resources to look for relatives who came through the island.  (You can also do an advanced search, which offers different selection criteria.)  They only have a few kiosks at the museum and, as you can imagine, the lines were long to use them.   

Symphony Space

I went to Symphony Space on the Upper West Side to see Apartments and Neighbors, part of their Selected Shorts program.  I've heard this program in Philadelphia on WHYY public radio so it was really neat for me to see the host, whose voice was very familiar to me, and understand how this show is recorded.
There were four stories, 3 of which were read by people who read brilliantly and with animation, and 1 was a told story.  The person I hoped to hear and see read (Sarah Jones) dropped out for unknown reasons but I still really enjoyed it.

I also enjoyed eavesdropping.  It's wonderful to do so many things alone because it provides ample eavesdropping opportunities!  (I should start an "Overheard" blog!)  Some of the things I overheard:

• So-and-So is doing the Iditarod again this year.  (It was obvious both women know the man of whom they spoke.) 
• During my Newbery year.... (I assume she meant the Newbery Award because her companion asked if she ever thought of getting into editing.  I was dying to ask what book she wrote but I refrained!  Or, maybe she worked at Newbury College in Boston, or maybe she lived in a town with that name.  In my mind, however, she's a writer!)
• I just saw Cynthia Nixon out front but I don't think she came in.  (Sex in the City at Symphony Space!)
• I had a great lunch at a restaurant on 55th between 6th and 7th.  (Well!  What was it called?!?  Never got an answer to that one!)

This was obviously an interesting audience.  What I loved - and of course it made sense given this was a literary event - was the number of people reading before the event and during intermission.  I've never seen anything like it - magazines, books, newspapers were everywhere.  This continued on the subway platform after the show.  It looked like a library convention on the 3 train.  Loved it!  (Maybe I should start a blog entitled "What they were Reading."  Ironically, my own reading has decreased considerably since I started blogging!)

Needless to say, I collapsed into bed last night after a very long but very fulfilling and informative day.

Coney Island

A 50-minute subway ride took me from Midtown Manhattan to Coney Island, Brooklyn.  While Coney Island is unlike most "shores" I know, it still had the same impact on me.  I could feel the cool air coming off the ocean, "the boards" rattled when I walked on them, I could smell salt, and the sun was bright and warm.  Vendors were selling funnel cakes, hot dogs, pizza, ice cream, cotton candy, and other things I didn't recognize - like mozzarella cheese and peas (I think) combination.  Men and women were working on their tans and children shrieked and giggled as they ran knee-deep into the water.  Seagulls flew overhead, and in some cases they warmed themselves on the beach, which was a coarser, tanner sand that I'm used to seeing.

Coney Island is the westernmost of the barrier islands of Long Island.  According to Wikipedia, Coney Island is no longer an island, it's a peninsula.  The Coney Island Creek separated the island from mainland Brooklyn but the creek was filled in before WWII for construction of the Beltway Parkway.

Coney Island is from a Dutch name meaning Rabbit Island.  (There are other theories on the name but this is the most widely accepted.)  Rabbit hunting occurred on this and other parts of Long Island for years.  Coney Island became a resort community after the Civil War and its heyday was in the early 20th century.  Interesting, (again, according to Wikipedia),

From 1885 to 1896, the Coney Island Elephant was the first sight to greet immigrants arriving in New York, who would see it before they saw the Statue of Liberty.

I didn't know of this elephant, which was a hotel, before today but I saw pictures of it on t-shirts and postcard replicas.  It reminds me of Lucy the Elephant at the Jersey Shore.

Wikipedia also states that

Nathan's Famous original hot dog stand opened on Coney Island in 1916 and quickly became a landmark. An annual hot dog eating contest has been held there on July 4 since its opening.

The first thing I saw when I exited the subway station was Nathan's.  It was noon and I was in my perpetual state of hunger.  I was surprised to see that I could get an order of frogs legs but I settled for a hot dog with just a little 'kraut and some mustard.  I think this might have been my first Nathan's dog.  (There are Nathan's at rest stops along the NJ Turnpike.  I don't think I ever had one there but I'm not 100% sure.)  In any case, the skin is a little crunchy, which is unusual for my dogs, but it was good.

I loved the old, neon signs.  With those and all the other signs, there is no doubt where Nathan's is.  

The current reigning male, Joey Chestunut, is a Philly boy.  (I'm uncertain whether that's good or bad.)

The housing right on the boardwalk looked to be low-income - not too common for most shore communities.  (I verified this income assumption from census information on Wikipedia.)  Fortunately, these residents benefit from the cool breezes from the ocean in the summer.  A luxury most urban, low-income folks don't have.

The people-watching was great.  There is a large Russian community so I saw lots of Russian folks sitting on the benches chatting with each other.  I saw shirtless, old men working on their tans.  I got to witness some great handball games.  These guys were serious, and good!  Man!  That ball flew fast!  Most of the men wore gloves but there were a few exceptions.  There are about 11 handball courts right near the boardwalk.  I'd heard of handball before but it's certainly not something played from where I come from.  I enjoyed watching the men interact with each other, trash-talk, and just have a good time.

Speaking of people-watching, I followed this lady down the boards for a little bit.  She was adorable with her droopy socks, bright sweater, and relaxed swagger.  I wondered if she was reminiscing about "things that were" on the boardwalk.  One of the "things that was" is right in front of her in this picture. 

The Parachute Jump is from the 1939 World's Fair in Queens, NY.  The "ride" was used up until 1968.  People were somehow hoisted to the top and then "free fell" with a parachute easing their landing.  This structure is sometimes referred to as the Eiffel Tower of Brooklyn.

The Cyclone is another famous Coney Island landmark.  It was placed on the National Register of Historic Places on June 26, 1991.  Opened in June 1927, this wooden rollercoaster was operating today and it was a thrill to hear the clickety-clack.  I'm not even a huge rollercoaster fan (as evidenced by the fact I didn't get on it, but I did contemplate it) but I have certainly heard of the Cyclone. 

According to a coneyislandcylcone.com,

This historic roller coaster graces virtually every "top roller coaster" list and publication. Roller coasters may have gotten bigger and faster, but they have not gotten any better than The Cyclone. Time Magazine quoted Charles Lindbergh as saying that a ride on the Cyclone was more thrilling than his historic first solo flight across the Atlantic Ocean. Emilio Franco, a mute since birth, regained his voice on the Cyclone, uttering his first words ever -- "I feel sick"!

I was hoping to learn more about the rollercoaster and other Coney Island history but the small Coney Island Museum was closed.  Apparently it is only open on weekends.

I did get on the beach, where I was pleased to find some sea glass, one of which is a nice aquamarine color. There is actually a lot of glass but much of it needs to be worn by the sand and sea to be good sea glass. 

I also spotted four cute little kids playing in the surf.  They all had little hats on.  I was disappointed that, unbeknowst to me, my camera was on zoom.  I thought I captured all four children but "lost" one.

After spending about 2.5 hours on Coney Island, I decided to head back to Manhattan.  As I left, I took a few more pictures, including a now-defunct venue...another "thing that was."

I left "Coney Peninsula," glad that I had seen it after decades of only hearing about it.

 A "Thing that Was"

The UN and Cathedral of St. John the Divine

The day began with a walk to the United Nations and the afternoon included a trip to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in the Morningside Heights section (around 112th St and Amsterdam) of Manhattan.

We arrived at the UN at around 10:10am and passed through airport-like security.  We waited in line for tickets and learned the next English tour was at 12:30.  To pass the time, we viewed three exhibits - one related to the slave ship Amistad, one about malaria, and the other about land mines.

The malaria exhibit was particularly moving.  This disease has been eliminated in the developed world but still plagues the developing world, particularly Africa and parts of Southeast Asia.  The exhibit mentioned several ways to reduce malaria deaths, a simple way being providing nets for people to sleep in.  I investigated the organization mentioned in the exhibit called Nothing but Nets. This organization has an interesting website; it shows how easy it is for one person to make a difference in this area.

The land mine exhibit was interesting and moving, too.  I've heard of this issue over the years, probably as the media often covered Princess Diana when she advocated for countries to stop using mines.  I learned today, however, that the mines are purposely meant to look like toys (in some cases) because those planting the mines want to maim or kill the next generation of "the enemy."  Children are often the victims, as demonstrated by the pictures in the exhibit.  More information on ways to help can be found at the Mine Action website.  Both this website, and the one mentioned above, are associated with the UN.

We perused the gift shop and bookstore and then thought we might be able to have an early lunch in the Delegates Dining Room.  We learned, however, that jeans and sneakers are not permissible.  We opted for some great - and surprisingly inexpensive (for NYC) - chicken florentine soup in the coffee shop.

Our tour guide, a young woman from Uzbekistan, was excellent.  She showed us the various gifts to the UN from a number of countries.  She also took us in to the UN General Chamber.  (The Security Council Chamber is closed for renovation.)  She taught us the reason why someone from the US has not been a secretary general - because no members of the 5 founding countries (US, France, Great Britain, China, and Russia - the victors in WWII) are able to hold this position.

The UN does so much good work.  I found out specifics about what they do, such as educating young people, providing shelter in refugee camps, etc.  Of course, when I got home I googled jobs for the UN.  There are many, many jobs here in NYC and in Kabul, Afghanistan.  I think Geneva, Switzerland was the other site where there were plenty of opportunities.

In the afternoon I went up to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine.  According to my Frommer's Guide, this Episcopal church is the world's largest Gothic cathedral and has been in progress since 1892.  (This "in progress" reference explains why the information desk person at the church told me that "the gift shop has not been built yet.") 

Walking east on 111th St, I first encountered a fabulous whimsical statue (whose name escapes me right now).  I quickly saw that this is part of the church and it is a children's park with mini-statues throughout.

Walking up the steps of the church, I could smell a slightly musty - but not overpowering or offensive - odor. If someone bottled this scent it would be called "Old Church."  It was about 3pm when I entered and the light was streaming in through the stained glass.  It was breathtaking.

The sheer size of the church is amazing. Frommer's states the nave (where people worship) is the length of 2 football fields. I believe it. The church seats 5,000 people.


I was fortunate enough to be there when a girls' choir from Washington State was performing.  What a treat to wander this great church and its approximately 12 chapels (one of which has a triptych from artist Keith Haring) with the girls' voices as the backdrop.  I'll never forget when I left one chapel, the sun made the area I was in look "foggy" and the voices were drifting over the columns to me.  It stopped me in my tracks.  I felt so peaceful.  I trusted at that moment that that is what heaven will be like.

The artwork in the building is surely priceless.  It includes tapestries, statues, and icons.  Some day I hope to return to the church to do the tour.  (It wasn't offered when I was there.)  The tour speaks to the artwork but also allows you to go to otherwise inaccessible parts of the church, including the buttresses.

I wandered out of the cathedral in such a "zone" that I completely forgot to check out the garden, even though I had literally just asked the staff person how to access it.  I stumbled across a charming place just north of the church called Artopolis (1090 Amsterdam).  It had smoothies, crepes, sandwiches, coffees, salads, and baked goods.  I got a smoothie and an oatmeal raisin cookie and sat outside, looking back at the cathedral, and enjoyed the wonderful weather.

I realized I went from the hell of seeing what people do to each other at the UN to the heaven of feeling God's peace at St. John's.  What a day. 

The Cloisters and the Village

In addition to the Easter Parade today, there was a trip to Northern Manhattan to see The Cloisters and then a long subway ride down to almost the other end of the island - Greenwich Village.

The Cloisters, part of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, is a trip on the A train up to 190th Street.  The signage from the subway to The Cloisters leads the way for the 10 minute walk.  This building (devoted to the art and architecture of medieval Europe) and its location are gems.  This castle-like building sits on top of the natural rock wall  above the Hudson River and looks south to the George Washington Bridge and across the river to the Palisades in NJ. 

The museum has actual medieval cloisters and apses that were brought from Europe and re-built.  There is so much to see it's overwhelming.  For this reason, I recommend the guided tour.  It provides the museum highlights and points out facts that would otherwise be missed.  (There is also an audio tour if the guided tour is not available.)  This tour was especially helpful in understanding the several unicorn tapestries.  These were one of the highlights of the trip to the museum.  Another highlight was understanding how the museum acquired the artwork and specific stories related to the acquistion of certain pieces.

There are also gardens at The Cloisters.  This time of year, heather, forsythia, and daffodils, to name a few, were in bloom.

From The Cloisters, we headed to the Village.  I haven't been there in years and it was interesting to see the changes - many more sex shops and fancier restaurants.  We stopped for a drink at The Monster and then had dinner on Christopher Street at an Indian restaurant.

Both of these journeys deserve more description, but it's time to step away from the computer for the evening.  I plan on recalling today's trips as I rest in bed.

Easter Parade

I really wanted to go to church on this day but I was lured to the Easter Parade.  I've never been physically but I have been many times in song.  In grade school, our music teacher (Mr. Moore with band-aids on his fingers) taught us this song by Irving Berlin.  This occurred at a public school.  I'm guessing this song is no longer taught.  My sister-in-law works at an elementary school; I'll have to ask her. 

The lyrics of the song come back quickly, although I don't remember learning this first verse and I don't ever recall hearing it.

Never saw you look quite so pretty before
Never saw you dressed quite so lovely what's more
I could hardly wait to keep our date this lovely
Easter morning...
And my heart beat fast as I came through the door

For in your Easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it
You'll be the grandest lady in the Easter parade
I'll be all in clover and when they look you over
I'll be the proudest fellow in the Easter parade

On the Avenue
Fifth Avenue
The photographers will snap us
And you'll find that you're
In the rotogravure

Oh, I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet
And of the girl I'm taking to the Easter parade

It was just within the past few years that I learned what rotogravure was.  I can't imagine what I sang for that word as a child but I'm sure it was amusing!  According to the Wikipedia definition for rotogravure,

In the 1930s–1960s, newspapers published relatively few photographs and instead many newspapers published separate rotogravure sections in their Sunday editions. These sections were devoted to photographs and identifying captions, not news stories.

Another interesting tidbit about the lyrics is that there is an "alternative bridge" for Great Britain.  Who knew?

To the Park we'll go
Round Rotten Row
The photographers will snap us
And then you'll be seen
in the Smart magazine

The parade is no longer all about fashion.  In fact, there was less fashion than people (and the occasional dog) having fun with goofy hats.  Here is a sampling of the NYC Easter Parade...on the Avenue, 5th Avenue...2010.  (I do not know any of these people.)

Cruising NYC

Today was a "get to know the island" day.  The destination was the three-hour tour (cue the Gilligan's Island music) on the Circle Line (at 42nd and 12th) for a circumnavigation of the island.

The tour was from 3-6p but I had read, and the ticket seller recommended, getting in line about 1 hour before the boat left.  Great recommendation.  This enabled us to get a seat upstairs and out of the chilly wind.  (Try to sit on the left side of the boat for unimpeded views of Manhattan.)  I enjoyed the tour and learned some new information.  It was challenging, however, in that the tour guide didn't enunciate words and I sometimes had to strain to hear him.  There were quite a few children on the tour and some of them - as well as some adults - obviously got restless...and louder.  I'm so glad I wasn't sitting downstairs by the snack bar.  When I went down there to use the restroom it was so loud I never would have heard the narration.

Dinner was at Cosette on 33rd and 3rd, a charming French bistro with delicious yet reasonably priced food. Found a great bottle of red that I hope to be able to get in the future. (Not always an easy thing with Pennsylvania's archaic liquor laws.) The wine is a Domaine Pere Caboche Cotes du Rhone 2009. I found it online for about $10 - $12 but it looks like the wine store I thought would have it (Total Wines in Delaware) does not carry it. I have to ask a friend of mine in NJ if the great wine store by her carries it.

Back at the apartment, the moon was surprisingly low and red.  By the time we got the camera figured out, it had risen a bit and become less red, but still interesting nonetheless.