Hammond
DeWitt Clinton, a former US senator, NYC mayor, and New York governor, is probably best remembered as the driving force behind the creation of the Erie Canal. He was buried elsewhere after his death in 1828, but Green-Wood, which was struggling in the early years after its 1838 founding (the idea of large rural cemeteries apparently hadn't yet caught on with the public), convinced his son to reinter him here in the 1840s in the hope of bringing prestige to the cemetery and portraying it as a desirable place to be buried.
The monument above was dedicated in 1853, featuring a large statue of Clinton (the "second oldest surviving heroic bronze cast in America") wearing both 19th-century garb and a Roman toga, as well as two scenes sculpted in relief on the plinth. The scene on the opposite side (close-up) illustrates what I assume is the construction of the Erie Canal. I'm not sure what the relief above (close-up) is supposed to depict, however. At first, I thought those horses might be towing the ship in the background through the canal, but all the other figures gathered around them make that seem unlikely. And the family on the left is particularly perplexing — what's with the shoes?
Henry Draper, son of the distinguished John William Draper, was a doctor and a pioneer of astrophotography. The circular objects adorning his monument depict the two sides of the gold medal produced in his honor by the Philadelphia Mint at the order of Congress to memorialize his role in photographing the 1874 transit of Venus.
The Draper name is largely forgotten today, but, if Henry's obituary in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle is any indication, the Drapers were highly revered in the scientific community at the time of his death in 1882 at the age of 45 (following his father's death earlier in the year). I've included some excerpts from the obituary below; the final paragraph also offers perspective on an American inferiority complex that may have existed at the time.
The cause of scientific study not only in the country but throughout the world has suffered severely during the year that is now drawing to a close. The death roll of the past twelve months has included many illustrious names, that of Mr. Darwin heading the list, to be quickly followed by that of Professor [John William] Draper the elder. Now within a few months Henry Draper the younger has died suddenly after carving out for himself at a comparatively early age a record well worthy of the illustrious name he bore. The decease of these two eminent men is a sad blow to the cause of science and to the millions of people who benefit by the tireless energy, the dazzling versatility and intelligent persistence of the thinking few. . . .
It does not often happen that genius is bequeathed from father to son, but in the case of the Drapers the intellectual vigor of the parent was reproduced in the son, who at a very early age launched out into scientific study and achieved results undreamed of by older and less exuberant minds with the same versatility and originality which marked the elder . . .
Indeed through the Drapers and a few others we have been enabled to wipe out the reproach put upon us [as a nation] by a friendly critic some thirty years ago, that we had not shown the least capacity for art or science. It is true that we have not yet produced any large triumphs of art, but we have at least developed an art spirit which must before long express itself. In some departments of science, the speculative for instance, we are yet behind England, France and Germany, but in the applications of science we are almost equally ahead. . . . though we cannot but realize that a prophet and the son of a prophet has been removed from the arena of this world's activities we may rest assured that the impulse given to the study of knowledge for its own sake by father and son will not cease, but rather tend to increase.
We're looking out across (a small portion of) Green-Wood toward the waters of New York Bay. The beautiful building at the bottom of the hill is the cemetery's chapel, a smaller version of Christopher Wren's Tom Tower.
It always surprises me to see a big, stately courthouse built in an outlying neighborhood like Sunset Park rather than, say, Downtown Brooklyn, but there were actually quite a few local courthouses spread around the city before a 1962 reorganization centralized the court system.
This is the Bush Terminal pump house, which, according to the plaque above the memorial, is dedicated to Louis Valentino.
I've walked by enough botánicas to know that something's off here. They took away his sword and replaced Satan with a rock!
This "striking [example] of late 19th-century civic architecture", with its "chaotic variety of decorative forms: a corbeled parapet of rounded brick, rope moldings of terra cotta, zigzag and Romanesque carving, rock-faced brownstone and decorative ironwork", originally housed the 18th Police Precinct (which was subsequently renumbered many times, becoming the 43rd, 143rd, 76th, 32nd, and, finally, the 68th Precinct). The architecture was meant to intimidate potential wrongdoers; at the building's dedication in 1892 (covered by the Brooklyn Daily Eagle with the subheading "Where Gallant Policemen Will Often Pass With Just Pride, but Where, Probably, Many a Poor Wretch Will Leave Hope Behind"), the Brooklyn police commissioner said: "A man about to commit a crime would stand appalled at the sight of a station house such as this is."
The precinct moved to a new station house in 1970, and the building has largely been left to deteriorate for many years now, despite being designated a city landmark in 1983. You can see some photos of the interior and the adjoining stable here. Back in February, we passed by a very similar decrepit old station house, designed by the same architect, out in East New York.
This cemetery was established around 1654 in the old town of New Utrecht. The building in the background, Metropolitan Baptist Church (originally St. John's Reformed German Evangelical Lutheran Church), stands near the site of the first New Utrecht Reformed Church, which was constructed in 1700 using stones originally brought over as ship ballast from Holland. After the church was later dismantled, its stones were reused once again, this time to build the current church of the same name a few blocks away in 1828-1829.
Here's some "evocative poetry" found on a headstone in the cemetery:
Behold and see as you pass by,
As you are now so once was I;
As I am now you soon will be,
Prepare for Death and follow me.
All I know about this seemingly abandoned building, tucked away incongruously in the middle of a row of houses on 16th Avenue, is that free flu shots were given here in 1983 to the elderly and chronically ill.
Russian Orthodox Church of the New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia, to be precise. Here are some beautiful photos taken inside during a service.
The spiritual blessing con game. This poster (close-up) was on display outside the Asian Senior Day Care center on 18th Avenue.
Yet another memorial by Joe Indart. There's no 9/11 imagery here, but a scroll painted on the far side dedicates the mural to all the victims.
Here's a photo of the church from 1912, the year it was consecrated.
Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for Brethren to dwell together in unity.
Welcome to the "insular to the bone", tightly packed seaside enclave of Gerritsen Beach, where we'll be spending our day today. (Mural by Joe Indart.)
Here's what the AIA Guide to New York City has to say about this 1925 structure: "Gothic Revival by the sea. A handsome wooden house of worship that would barely dent the skyline of most neighborhoods, but in Lilliput [Gerritsen Beach] it's a towering landmark."
Adopted by the Radio Control Society of Marine Park. If you're curious, you can check out an aerial view of the field and watch some great video footage of the area shot by a model plane in flight.
Gerritsen Beach was slammed by Hurricane Sandy (although the neighborhood did acquire a new bar that floated in on the storm surge); perhaps this temporary flying buttress is a result of said slamming.
