NYC #13: Horace Greeley

 

'Horace Greeley 1811–1872

As founder of New York Tribune – whose headquarters were located
opposite City Hall Park on Park Row – Horace Greeley set new standards
for integrity in American journalism. Greeley's editorials addressed the
social and political issues of his era, including the abolition of slavery
and the settlement of the West. Greeley was nominated for the presidency
in 1872, but he lost the election and died several weeks later. His body lay
in state atop the rotunda staircase in City Hall. This statue, by John Quincy
Adams Ward was commissioned by his co-workers at the New York Tribune.'

NYC #12: The William Bartham Clock

In Forgotten New York: Views of a Lost Metropolis (2006) Kevin Walsh shows a photo of William Bartham the jeweler's sidewalk clock on Broadway at Maiden Lane: glass a little misty, but the hands and time still clearly visible: this clock had been working since 1899. It had been stepped on for many years, and Walsh cites a 1946 NYPD estimate that 51,000 people had walked over it every day between 11:00 and 14:00. So I was disappointed to find a wooden covering over it a few days ago: the end of an era?

NYC #11: 'Charlotte Temple', Trinity Church, Lower Manhattan

This is a mystery literary grave, which may not even be a grave at all as there are doubts about anyone having been buried here. The name inscribed is Charlotte Temple, the protagonist of novelist Susanna Haswell Rowson's Charlotte Temple: A Tale of Truth (1790). An imaginary grave of an imaginary person? Perhaps, although Rowson sowed the seeds of doubt in suggesting that this was a real person: or did she do that to sell even more copies of her highly successful novel?

 (The above image looks so squat because – this part of the churchyard being temporarily fenced off from the public – I was forced to take it from a considerable distance away.)

NYC #10: William Bradford, Trinity Church, Lower Manhattan

 

'WILLIAM BRADFORD
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

1663–1752

Printer and publisher

In 1693 Bradford was appointed the
Royal Printer for the New York Colony.
He printed the first American Book of
Common Prayer in 1710 and founded
and printed New York's first newspaper,
the New York Gazette in 1725.'

NY #9: H. C. Bunner, Lower Manhattan

At 7 State Street the James Watson house dates from 1793 and is the subject of H. C. Bunner's novel The Story of a New York House (1912).

NYC #8: Herman Melville, Lower Manhattan

'On this site, number 6 Pearl Street,

HERMAN MELVILLE

was born

August 1, 1819

 

Author of

Moby-Dick

'Bartleby the Scrivener'

Pierre

Billy Budd

and many other American classics'

 

Unfortunately the bust of Melville on the right-hand side was too misted up with condensation.

NYC #7: Coney Island, Brooklyn

Coney Island, Brooklyn is a fascinating piece of faded glory. There's a museum here which contains many exhibits reminding the curious of that glory, including a room with Thomas and Dundy's magnificent model of Luna Park. Unfortunately they don't allow you to take photos, which of course would advertise the museum far more and I'm sure greatly increase interest in the museum, but there you have it, and I'm reduced to showing what photos I can.

The smiling face you see from the baseball cap above – and as a kind of ghostly shadow in the image at the top – is all over Coney Island, a little like a logo of the place. This is Tillie, who seems to be named after George C. Tilyou who owned Steeplechase Park on Coney Island, which came to an end in 1964. The park of course – although a shadow of its former self – still exists and is still very popular.

As an indication of Coney Island as a continuing part of the psyche of New York, I reproduce this shot I took in 2008 with the Cyclone in the background: this was a Saturday afternoon and the occasion was the annual Mermaid Parade. Yes, of course Coney Island is horribly gaudy, noisy and irredeemably tacky. But sometimes tackiness has a certain beauty. And now, a few (sometimes bewildering) images that caught my eye this year:

'SEE

DANCING

SPACE MONSTER

The SPINNER

WITCH WITCHERY

& ALIGATOR' [sic]

'SEE

HANGMAN'S

DELIGHT

SCREECHY NELL

SHAGGY GHOST'

'HELP

1703'

'GEO C. TILYOU'S

CONEY ISLAND

STEEPLEPLACE

The

Funny

Place'

NYC #6: Andy Warhol

At 57 East 66th Street:

'ANDY WARHOL
1928–1987
The Pop artist best known for his silkscreens
of cultural icons, including Jackie Kennedy,
Marilyn Monroe, Chairman Mao, and Campbell's Soup
cans, lived here from 1974 to 1987. The founder of
Interview magazine and producer of underground
films such as Chelsea Girls (1966) and Trash (1970)
predicted, "everybody will be world-famous
for fifteen minutes."'

 

NYC #5: Edgar Allan Poe on Upper West Side

'UPON THIS SITE
FORMERLY STOOD THE BRENNEN MANSION
IN WHICH RESIDED
FROM MARCH 1844 TO AUGUST 1845
EDGAR ALLAN POE
AND HERE DURING SUCH RESIDENCE HE PRODUCED
AND GAVE TO AMERICAN LITERATURE AND TO IMMORTALITY
THE RAVEN
IN COMMEMORATION OF THE POET AND OF THE POEM
THIS TABLET IS PLACED MCMXXII BY
THE NEW YORK SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY'

This plaque is at West 84 Street, otherwise called Edgar Allen Poe Street, and there is (was?)  a sign in opposition to this claiming a different address which is supposed to be opposite this plaque, although no amount of looking turned anything up: perhaps it's been taken down in admission of defeat?

NYC #4: Representations of Shakespeare

The Delacorte Theater in Central Park, Manhattan is the home of 'Shakespeare in the Park', the performances of which are in the summer and free to anyone queuing (and queuing and ...) for a ticket. As we hate queuing these performances will remain unseen by us. But meanwhile, these statues outside the theater are of interest:

 

Obviously Romeo and Juliet in a classic romantic pose.

And The Tempest. Both of these sculptures were a gift by George Delacorte.

NYC #3: Other Literary Landmarks in Central Park

In the early stages of this blog I used to take the 'Obscure' in the title perhaps a little too literally, and my post on our visit to New York city in 2008 was not only very short but only included Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790–1867) because he's now very obscure, in fact almost forgotten. Earlier this century there was a none-too-serious attempt to bring a Fitz-Greene Society into existence, but the man is probably irredeemably obscure, so there we go. But let's not forget the really famous here in the Mall:

 

Influenced by many writers – among them Balzac – Walter Scott in a not entirely comfortable looking pose. John Steell did this work, of which there's a replica in Edinburgh.

 

Facing Scott is Steel's statue of Robert Burns (1771–96), replicas of which can also be found in Dunedin (New Zealand) and London.

 

 

The statue of William Shakespeare (1564–1616) was erected in 1864, the three hundredth anniversary of his birth. It is by Henry Parry.

 

Finally, the bust of Friedrich Schiller (1759–1805).

NYC #2: Hans Christian Andersen

Close to the Alice in Wonderland statue – just slightly to the west of the Conservatory Water – is this tribute to the Danish author Hans Christian Andersen (1805–75), perhaps inevitably with his most famous creation, the duckling, at the side of him. The sculpture was constructed just after the 150th year of his birth.

In his hand he holds a copy of The Ugly Duckling with the opening lines – translating, of course, the original Den grimme ælling.

 

On the brim of his hat is the inscription:

'OTTO F. LANGMANN

–– ARCHITECT ––

GEORG J. JOBER

–– SCULPTOR ––

1956'

NYC #1: Alice in Wonderland

Immediately north of the Conservatory Water in Central Park, and commissioned by George Delacorte, is Alice in Wonderland by José de Creeft dating from 1959. The sculpture was designed from John Tenniel's book illustrations, although (according to the Central Park web site) Alice's face is a representation of Creeft's daughter Donna, and the Mad Hatter is 'a caricature of George Delacorte'. Taking decent photos of this wonderful creation is frustrating on a sweltering New York day because kids of any age (i.e. regular tourists) must satisfy their (to me incomprehensible) desire to be photographed climbing on a work of art and grinning inanely. This artwork reminded me of Make Way for Ducklings! in Boston, the Peter Pan sculptures in Kensington Gardens and Oamaru, New Zealand, and the Dr Seuss sculptures in Springfield, Massachusetts, all of which I've made posts of, and all of which I may get round to providing with links in the near future.

 

At the time the only thing in my head was to take the photos while the poseur(se)s changed, but looking back now I can't prevent Jefferson Airplane's 'White Rabbit' from invading my consciousness.

Googling, I find that there is indeed a strong resemblance between the Mad Hatter and the sponsor George Delacorte.

'One pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small...'

Bad trip, man, but then that Cheshire Cat's enough to give anybody one.

But those mushrooms don't look very magic to me. 'Go ask Alice'. I'm sure Lewis Carroll wouldn't have known.

Around the sculpture are seven plaques, six bearing Carroll quotations:

'ALICE IN WONDERLAND

IN MEMORY OF MY WIFE

MARGARITA DELACORTE

WHO LOVED ALL CHILDREN

GTD'

'TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE BAT!

HOW I WONDER WHAT YOU'RE AT!

UP ABOVE THE WORLD YOU FLY,

LIKE A TEA-TRAY IN THE SKY.'

(Carroll's parody of June Taylor's 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.')

'THEY TOLD ME YOU HAD BEEN TO HER,

AND MENTIONED ME TO HIM:

SHE GAVE ME A GOOD CHARACTER,

BUT SAID I COULD NOT SWIM.'

'BEAUTIFUL SOUP, SO RICH AND GREEN,

WAITING IN A HOT TUREEN!

WHO FOR SUCH DAINTIES WOULD NOT STOOP?

SOUP OF THE EVENING, BEAUTIFUL SOUP!'

 'TWEEDLEDUM AND TWEEDLEDEE

AGREED TO HAVE A BATTLE

FOR TWEEDLEDUM SAID TWEEDLEDEE

HAD SPOILED HIS NICE NEW RATTLE.'

 

'TWAS BRILLIG, AND THE SLITHY TOVES

DID GYRE AND GIMBLE IN THE WABE;

ALL MIMSY WERE THE BOROGROVES,

AND THE MOME RATHS OUTGRABE.'

 

'SPEAK ROUGHLY TO YOUR LITTLE BOY,
AND BEAT HIM WHEN HE SNEEZES:
HE ONLY DOES IT TO ANNOY,
BECAUSE HE KNOWS IT TEASES.'

Jules Vallès: L'Enfant | The Child (1879)

Jules Vallès's L'Enfant (1879), translated as The Child, is the first book in a trilogy followed by Le Bachelier (1881) and the posthumously published L'Insurgé (1886), all of which are autobiographical but all in which the central character is Jacques Vingtras.

Vallès (1832–85) shows a remarkably modern approach to the novel in L'Enfant and it's difficult to believe that it was written in the nineteenth century. Interestingly, many criticisms of modern French literature – and many within France itself – accuse writers of nombrilisme (or navel-gazing), and yet this classic work of the novel is an example of autofiction and therefore related to a number of other works such as Jules Renard's Poil de carotte (Carotte Top) (1894) or Hervé Bazin's Vipère au poing (1948). These are autofictions which are avant la lettre – before Serge Doubrovsky coined the term in 1977 in his book Fils – but the link with later works by, say, Marguerite Duras, Christine Angot, Camille Laurens, Chloé Delaume, Annie Ernaux, Guillaume Dustan, etc, is undeniable.

The harm that parents do in many modern autofictions is often intense, as it certainly is in L'Enfant. And if the expression autofiction hasn't travelled across the English Channel at all well, that quintessentially English poet Philip Larkin nevertheless famously summed up the problem in a wonderfully laconic manner: 'They fuck you up, your mum and dad.'

Right from the first page maternal violence is described in graphic, onomatopoeic terms: 'Vlin ! Vlan ! Zon ! Zon !', all to convey the flogging of Jacques, named 'le petit Chose',* a phrase which inevitably recalls Alphonse Daudet's eponymous autofiction of the same name, published in 1868.

Jacques's mother normally does the beating, although his father does some too later in the book, which describes the movement of the family from Le Puy-en-Velay in the Auvergne to Saint-Étienne, then (via train to Orléans and then by boat, staying overnight in Tours) to Nantes. At all three places, Jacques's father works as a teacher, although he comes across as a rather pathetic figure not only to his son but also to the students and his colleagues.

But Jacques's mother is even more pathetic: of peasant stock, Mme Vingtras now shuns her background and desperately tries to fit into her new environment. She indoctrinates Jacques with her perceptions of 'polite' manners within that class, although the trouble is she is invariably wrong about, for example, table manners within that class, and she not only makes a fool of herself but of Jacques too, as he of course behaves as she has taught him. Her meanness is also a source of painful embarrassment: to give just one example of many, when Jacques is forced to flee from Nantes to Paris after a romantic entanglement, his mother is delighted when she thinks – in spite of her husband's increase of wealth – that she's obtained her son's education in Paris on the cheap by pleading poverty.

L'Enfant, then, is to some extent a social satire, as the dedication makes clear: it is for all those who have been bored to death at school, those who have been tyrannised by their parents or teachers. Jacques would rather live the life of a peasant, and identifies with the outsider, with black people he envies. Jacques is a revolutionary in the making.

* The word 'chose' – which is normally a feminine noun – is used as a masculine one here to indicate the reification of Jacques Vingtras.

Gustav Courbet's painting of Vallès in Musée Carnavalet.

The house in Maisons-Laffitte where Vallès briefly lived.

 

And his grave in Père-Lachaise.