I've just recently returned from a week long trip in New York, partly to do a little research, partly for a little r & r (if that's possible in such a city).
Even way before this project came to be, I've had an on going love affair with New York, ever since I can remember. I still find myself awed by the city every time I visit, and I have been there over the years more times than I can remember. Its monumental triumphs of ego, grandeur, greed, and capitalism never fail to still leave me breathless at times. Perhaps one can only have this perspective by being an outsider, but I'm sure many native New Yorkers feel the same way. Its a city of extremes, and its far from perfect or idyllic; no urban center is or ever will be. But, there is a magical, chaotic beauty to its ebb and flow that is its own.
One of my plans on this trip was to go on a little hunt for historical locations of gangster days gone past - but not really to my surprise, not much is left standing from close to one hundred years ago. Changes come quick in the city and so does the wrecking ball.
The Bluebird Café on 14th Street, where Monk Eastman finally met his end: a Whole Foods presently resides.
At Herman Rosenthal's gambling house, a three story
brownstone at 104 West 45th St., stands (somehow fittingly) a CitiBank, which takes up a good quarter of the block.
The last place Big Jack Zelig was seen alive by his friends was at Segals Café located at 76 Second Avenue, before hopping
on that fateful trolley heading towards 14th Street. A building still stands, but has given away to religious order.
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Even way before this project came to be, I've had an on going love affair with New York, ever since I can remember. I still find myself awed by the city every time I visit, and I have been there over the years more times than I can remember. Its monumental triumphs of ego, grandeur, greed, and capitalism never fail to still leave me breathless at times. Perhaps one can only have this perspective by being an outsider, but I'm sure many native New Yorkers feel the same way. Its a city of extremes, and its far from perfect or idyllic; no urban center is or ever will be. But, there is a magical, chaotic beauty to its ebb and flow that is its own.
One of my plans on this trip was to go on a little hunt for historical locations of gangster days gone past - but not really to my surprise, not much is left standing from close to one hundred years ago. Changes come quick in the city and so does the wrecking ball.
The Bluebird Café on 14th Street, where Monk Eastman finally met his end: a Whole Foods presently resides.
At Herman Rosenthal's gambling house, a three storybrownstone at 104 West 45th St., stands (somehow fittingly) a CitiBank, which takes up a good quarter of the block.
The Tenderloin's fabled 16th Precinct on West 47th above Eight Avenue, where Charles Becker worked out of, and Rosenthal's body was taken to, has gone the way of the ghost as well.
I was happy to see the six story building that was the Hotel Metropole was still standing, located about 50 yards below Broadway on 43rd St. It's now the Casablanca Hotel, and adjacent is Tony's restaurant. This was the location of the Café Metropole where Rosenthal spent the last few minutes of his life before being gunned down outside in July of 1912. Something told me I should go inside an order a grilled chicken salad. So I did, and gave thought to Herman.
The last place Big Jack Zelig was seen alive by his friends was at Segals Café located at 76 Second Avenue, before hopping
on that fateful trolley heading towards 14th Street. A building still stands, but has given away to religious order.The corner of Rivington and Allen was a lot noisier the night of September 16, 1903 when the Eastmans and Paul Kelly's Five Pointers were ensconced in major street and gun battle that lasted long into the evening hours. Police stood by helpless with just nightsticks until finally after midnight, with sufficient officers from surrounding precincts assembled, they were sent into the melee and finally managed to break things up.
Eastman earned himself a headline in the next morning's New York Times:
“ MONK EASTMAN‘S GANG RUN RIOT WITH PISTOLS AND KNIVES. “Monk Eastman” and his gang broke their own bloody record for revolver fighting early yesterday when they spread terror through part of the east side governed from the Fifth Street and Eldridge Street Police Stations”.
Time didn't permit much more however but I hope to return soon and continue these wanderings and see if any ghosts continue their whisperings from the past.
***********************************************************************Eastman earned himself a headline in the next morning's New York Times:
“ MONK EASTMAN‘S GANG RUN RIOT WITH PISTOLS AND KNIVES. “Monk Eastman” and his gang broke their own bloody record for revolver fighting early yesterday when they spread terror through part of the east side governed from the Fifth Street and Eldridge Street Police Stations”.
Time didn't permit much more however but I hope to return soon and continue these wanderings and see if any ghosts continue their whisperings from the past.
Besides some gangster haunts, I also made my way over to the Society Of Illustrators, a place I had always meant to see and finally got t0 this time around. I also had the chance to participate in one of their life drawing sessions which they hold weekly. There's a nice feeling to be sketching in such an institution whose walls contain a rich history of American illustrators past (and present). Original works by Dean Cornwell, James Montgomery Flagg, J.C. Leyendecker and many more hang on the walls; and there's nothing like ordering a drink at a bar over which hangs a seven foot wide Norman Rockwell painting. It was a special night for me to be there and thought I'd share a few drawings done there and spare you a gangster for now...
