Prospect: A Year in the Park

Sailing into the past

On this day of stiff breezes, let's sail again into the past: to September, 1937, when boys had better things to do on a brilliantly sunny day than play Grand Theft Auto in the media room. From the Municipal Archives Collection, this shot at the lake's edge in Prospect Park is set, I suspect, near the Wellhouse; that spot used to have a boathouse for miniature craft long ago.

More lads at lakeside. What do you notice, besides perhaps the absence of any fisherwomen? No phragmites! Those invasive reeds that choke the lake at every turn had not yet begun their march, apparently.

Fresh archivey goodness: Old-time playtime

No one can say New Yorkers aren't history-conscious; we crashed the NYC Municipal Archives Collections for days after they put up a new trove of photographic goodies. There's not much material there on Prospect Park, but a few sweet things emerged. I'll share them until someone stops me; as usual, I can't figure out from their terms of use whether posting them on a non-commercial blog is a violation or not.

 

 

 

 

I like this shot of the playground at Lincoln Road and Ocean Avenue in August, 1941, and not only for the two young Brooklynites caught forever in a foreground dust-up. (Presumably today's charming "Imagination Playground" occupies at least part of this area?) What's striking is how minimalist it all is. Not just long-banned concussion-cradles like the dreaded "monkey bars" visible in the distance, or the swings that undoubtedly disgorged their little swingers onto concrete instead of padding underfoot.

But notice, too, how little stuff the moms and dads have brought along. One baby carriage, one trike...that's it. No mini-toy-strollers, no actual strollers! No scooters (and of course, no helmets). Everyone looks empty-handed and unencumbered. And that's on a macro level. Project yourself further: no one at the playground that day had a smart phone, an IPod, a water bottle, hand sanitizer, sunscreen, or plastic lidded compartmentalized caddy for organic snacks...kind of freeing, no? Today's moms, dads, and nannies drag home from the playground in a convoy of vehicles, diaper bags, and harnesses, a sort of wagon train of defenses against boredom, injury, hunger and contagion. Back in '41, it would appear they just walked out the door and sat on a bench.

Turbo-spring

Two weeks of late May mysteriously land in the middle of March, and I manage not to get over to the park more than once or twice. The reason: My own garden has been bursting out and yelling at me to perform every manner of service for it. A dozen rosebushes alone have been screeching to be pruned, and without the excuse of being miserable in the cold, I have been their slave.

But I've got to get over there because all sorts of stuff is going on. From my front porch, I can see that the trees are greening up, smudged with verdant pastel, a full month ahead of schedule. And that's not all.

* The Lakeside project is shaping up to be pretty damn amazing. Here's the Animated Architect Sketch; I love the snowy part, and the part where the trees drop down magically on Music Island. And the part at the very beginning where the Robert Moses crap building just disappears. (Thanks to the Q at Parkside blog for the heads-up.)

* The "Googa-Mooga" festival is stirring wild interest among the hip; it's some sort of food and music fest on May 19 and 20 that mysteriously, while "free," requires a ticket of extraordinary scarcity. Spouse has managed to acquire at least one of these prized tickets, which has him very excited even though we have yet to learn what bands are playing. Oh well: The festival's website proclaims that "food is the new rock," so we can dance along to the artisanal pickles.)

 
  * And on March 31, the Carousel reopens for its hundredth anniversary. It's been given a nice tune-up by Todd W. Goings, a carousel doctor (what a dream job!), nicely profiled here. (Photo, right: Chester Higgins, New York Times)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* At the Prospect Park Zoo, the Golden Tamarins have a wee baby riding around on their blond backs. (Photo: Julie Larsen Maher/WCS)

 

 

Meanwhile, check out a nicely researched gem on the park's mysterious Vale of Cashmere at the wonderful history blog of the Brooklyn Public Library, Brooklynology. This is the long-gone "Children's Shelter." The Vale, that haunted and troubled gem, looks very different than the playground envisioned by Vaux and Olmsted. Time to get over there and see for myself.

The ballad of Joe and Mickie

Hello young lovers, wherever you are--in this case, Prospect Park 1945, perhaps on a late winter day as springlike as today. I decided to throw myself at the garden on this too-good February Monday instead of into the park. In the absence of my reportage, check out the delightful Brooklyn story of Joseph and Mickie Yakowicz, two members of the Greatest Generation. Thanks to the Park Slope Patch for recounting a fine wartime romance, the kind that lasted a long and happy lifetime.

A day-old Valentine...

...is this lovely image from the Brooklyn Historical Society Blog, "Lover's Lane" in Prospect Park circa 1887. It looks to me like one of the many paths that lead into the Midwood. Sadly, those paths today are known for activities that bear only scant resemblance to love, as the noble members of the Prospect Park Littermob can attest.

Mostly, I'm loving this shot for its reminder (even in black and white) that green leafy days shot through with filtered sun do lie ahead. This is the bleached-bone time of year, and although the warm winter has left a little more green in the landscape, it will be months before the canopy re-appears to cloak lovers and other strangers.

 

'Green Sward': I want one

Too cold for a walk in the park? You can always troll E-bay looking for archivey goodness. Usually it's postcards and stereopticon views of the historic treasure across the street from our house, but today yielded a real gem: A rare original copy of Vaux and Olmsted's 1868 plan for the Parade Grounds, the part of the park we see from our front porch.

Geographicus Fine Antique Maps describes it thus:

An extremely scarce example of Vaux and Olmstead’s map of the King County Parade Ground (today known as the Prospect Park Parade Ground, or the Prospect Park Base Ball Grounds). The Parade Ground is bounded by Parade Place, Franklin Avenue (now Parkside Avenue), Caton Avenue, and Coney Island Avenue. The Ground was designed by Olmsted and Vaux in conjunction with the adjacent Prospect Park. The Parade Ground saw its first parade in 1867 when the 11th Brigade's Howitzer Battery strutted their stuff. Although intended from the start as a military facility, sports moved in early, and by 1871 the Parade Ground was being described by Henry Chadwick as the finest free ball ground in the United States." This map was published in the 1868 edition of William Bishop’s Manual of the Common Council of the City of Brooklyn .

I love the unbroken rectangle of "Green Sward" (now a grid of soccer and baseball fields, but still green thanks to synthetic turf), and the "carriage drive" and "gravelled area." When this map was created, this land, including our home, was probably open fields. The building site "A" was first an elegantly colonnaded club house and is now a reportedly rat-infested police station; site "B" is a tiny white house that has served various functions over the years.

The price for this gem? Listed at $412.50, well out of my range, although something in me instinctively lunged for the "buy it now" button. I often feel like Tony Stark in this moment when he first spies Scarlett Johansson in Iron Man 2; my inner Pepper Potts reliably checks my impulses.

 

 Tony doesn't get Black Widow, and I don't get a map, but we can both dream.

Flashback: Prospect Park Fights the 'Milk Wars'!

Hey, it's been a long time since we served up any Archivey Goodness! Once upon a time, you could get a farm-fresh glass of milk at this vanished fairy-tale building in the heart of Prospect Park--and thereby hangs a tale of greed, death, and, ultimately, reform.

Brownstoner's tireless urban detective Montrose Morris has a fascinating entry on the now-forgotten "Milk Wars" that raged in this and other cities from the mid-19th Century on. The park's "Dairy" or "Dairy Cottage" (like its still-standing counterpart in Central Park) kept real cows on tap, offering an alternative to the vile, adulterated milk produced on the cheap by Brooklyn producers who fed their wretched, diseased cows a diet of discarded brewery mash. Children died en masse from the bad milk, and the fight for a pure, pasteurized and reliable milk supply was a huge issue for reformers (and, of course, mothers). 

Here's a view of the Dairy in 1898. According to Prospect Park's archives:

Calvert Vaux designed the Dairy in 1869; the main structure of the building was completed in 1870. A stone building located in the Ravine, the Dairy took its name from the farm animals that grazed nearby and the fresh milk and other refreshments that were sold inside. "On the grassy slopes, bordering the Pools, which can be seen in this neighborhood, a number of cows, of choice breeds, graze in quiet and luxuriant ease, daily giving back a part of their rich food in the richer milk, which may be had at the Dairy Farm House. The park Commission invites the attention of Invalids, weakly persons, convalescents, and mothers of young children to the elevated ground east of the Long Meadow, near the Dairy." (1874)

The Dairy's status as a tourist magnet is confirmed by its appearance in packs of stereoscopic viewing cards--there are a couple for sale right now on Ebay, including this one. The wan tots here look like they could use some wholesome milk.

The Dairy stood in the Midwood, just north of Boulder Bridge, according to my guidebooks. It dispensed 11,000 quarts of fresh milk in the summer of 1871 alone, along with fresh foods including cold beef, ham and tongue sandwiches and pickled oysters. There were "retiring rooms" (rest rooms) with fireplaces, and nearby picnic tables. But the focus of picnicking moved across the Long Meadow in later years. The park's first "menagerie" opened nearby in 1890, and sadly, the Dairy was razed in 1935 when the new zoo opened on the other side of East Drive.

Thanks again to MM at Brownstoner for reviving the memory of the Milk Wars--a striking reminder that parents' concerns about what "factory farms" are turning out for our children's consumption are nothing new.   

Shamrocks for Granddad in Prospect Park!

One should avoid, if possible, the phrase "my other blog," but sometimes it is a necessity, and today, it's downright synchronicity.

On this St. Patrick's Day, I posted a tribute on my other blog to my maternal grandfather from Country Waterford. This jaunty but troubled soul lived most of his American years in Brooklyn. In this undated photo (sometime before 1926, when he died), there is no hint of where he is poised with gloves, bowler and cane, but something about the bridge and the "lay of the land" beneath it looked awfully familiar.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aha! Thanks to Kevin of Forgotten New York, I nailed it: the Terrace Bridge over the Lullwater in Prospect Park. It has been under recent renovation, but those unmistakeable trefoil (shamrock-shaped!) openings gave it away. I've leaned over the bridge at the exact same spot many times.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Smashing the rink

 

Thanks to the PLOG blog for taking some historic footage of Abe Lincoln gazing impassively as the ill-starred Wollman Rink bites the dust in Prospect Park yesterday.

Many of us had some grand times skating outside on the curiously skewed rink (you sort of had to skate uphill one half and downhill the other), surrounded by woods and sky. But the dismal structure and its mechanicals violated Vaux and Olmsted's original plan of a lovely Concert Grove.

 

 

 

 

 

(So did Lincoln, actually, and he'll be moved back eventually to Grand Army Plaza. At right: Here he is in his original locale, circa 1890; presumably that Moorish be-nubbined thingie in the mid-ground is a fountain; the tower to the left is a long-demolished water tower, if memory serves. I wonder who the little girls grew up to be?)

 

 

 

 

 

The original original plan had an island on which musicians would play. A romantic notion, although apparently the acoustics weren't very good. Moses obliterated the bandstand island in 1960 for the wretched rink building.

 

 

 

 

 

Now if only the new plan called for rebuilding the original "Concert Grove House." This postcard view, circa 1900 or so, shows an elegant slate-roofed manse tucked behind lush landscaping; apparently it was built in 1874 to house comfort facilities for ladies and gentlemen and a fine restaurant. It was torn down after a fire in 1949, alas!

Images: Prospect Park archives

 

A subtle bear motif

Guest Park II, Foliage Edition: In which, after a 40-minute traffic jam on the Palisades last Saturday, we visit Bear Mountain Park. It was nice scenery for gridlock, all apparently due to the park's "Octoberfest." When we finally got in, we headed to the Overlook Lodge, where they had just finished serving what seems like a popular and lavish local brunch.

It's been decades since I've "done" Bear Mountain, and there were many surprises. The lodge dining room looks like that of a plush nursing home,  but the lobby (left) is gorgeous, with a stunning view of Hessian Lake (above) that was drawing Japanese tourists like a magnet.   A fireplace sent fragrant woods moke into the fall air. T he decor is a style that might be called High Adirondack Ursine. (Note the bears on the upholstery occupied by some cute guy from Brooklyn.) Even the sconces have bears.

 

We strolled down to the Octoberfest, which was more like a crappy flea market with buckets of beer; aside from some oompah music in the distance,  there was little to fan the flame of German cultural nostalgia. One vendor had taxidermy bugs and critters in frames, including a shadowbox with two little Thailand bats. (As Kenneth Mars might have said in The Producers, "Ze Fuhrer loved a good stuffed Fledermaus!") But at the foot of the lake, we made a glorious discovery:  A carousel, built as a loving homage to all things Bear Mountainous.

 

 

  Alongside the horses prance all sorts of woodland creatures, including a skunk and, of course, three bears.

 

 

 

 

 Check out the gold bear atop the mirror. All the panels are hand-painted with local scenic wonders and wildlife. 

The building itself is gorgeous, and even the dedication near the fireplace carries out the Arts & Crafts theme in the typeface and lanterns. What a cool way to honor your parents' memory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In stark contrast, the grand, 1915 Bear Mountain Inn stares out at the carousel across the meadow, shuttered, fenced-off and empty. As the sun set, it looked mighty spooky, perfect for Hallowe'en gatherings. (Someone please tell me: Are those vultures on the chimney, eyeballing the wurst at the Octoberfest?) But it's actually closed for renovation, according to their website, and will reopen at some point as another "luxury" venue.

 

No renovation could ever make it as cool as it looked back in 1923:

Hey, there should be some sort of woodsy lodge in Prospect Park! No bear motifs...maybe squirrels or raccoons. (Anything but geese.)