Con Ed's new Academy Substation, part of the M29 Transmission Line Project

But they're not, because THAT'S ALL SALT.

(The hill is covered in actual snow, but 99% of the white stuff on the street, sidewalk, and stairs is salt.)

University Heights Presbyterian

According to the AIA Guide to New York City, this is a "conservative granite ashlar neo-Gothic church from a time when exuberance in neo-Gothic matters had given way to solemnity." More photos here.

of 2685 University Avenue

St. James Park

Here we are back at another old friend of ours. The last time we passed by, this old movie palace — built in the late 1920s "to take people out of their humdrum existence and bring them into a world of unimagined wealth and luxury" — was operating as a live entertainment venue, which meant that it was difficult to take a look inside without buying a ticket.

At the end of last year, however, the Paradise was leased to the World Changers megachurch, led by the controversial televangelist Creflo Dollar — he of the prosperity gospel — who holds twice-weekly services here. Meaning... you can now pop by any Wednesday or Saturday night and sneak a free peek at the theater's magnificent interior! I stuck my head in for a few minutes tonight; I wasn't allowed to take pictures during the service, but you can see some great shots of the place in the latter pages of this document.

Perhaps you remember being here on a much warmer day back in April.

Not even Jesus and Mother Mary are immune to the plague of pooping pigeons.

This gazebo replaced the old Zborowski mansion, demolished in 1938, that once stood here in Claremont Park. In his history of the Bronx, published in 1906, Randall Comfort reports (with an illustration):

The old lane that led from the Zborowski to the Stebbins Mansions did not run in a straight direction — far from it. It made a regular "U" of itself, so as to avoid what has recently puzzled engineers and contractors — the famous "Black Swamp." I had been told of the loss of a number of Mr. Zborowski's blooded cattle at night, and I have heard of school children who had occasion to pass this way, arriving at school with their clothing a mass of mud, but I was entirely unaware of the cause. Situated in the dense thickets behind Claremont Park, its name has clung to it, ever since the time of the Indians, who superstitiously regarded it as the resort of evil spirits. When the early settlers found to their dismay that its depths engulfed their cattle whenever they came near it, they carefully surrounded its area with a rough fence.

For many years, even centuries, it lay forgotten, until the city authorities sought to open Morris Avenue through this harmless looking pond. What, then, was the amazement of the contractor to find that 60,000 cubic yards of filling had suddenly sunk out of sight into the quiet surface of this remarkable pit! At last, however, the work seemed to bring good results and the earth was filled in to the required level. But next morning smiles were suddenly turned to dismay. Every particle of new earth had disappeared as if by magic into the mouth of the mysterious swamp! A party of expert engineers was hastily summoned, who gave the following report: "We find two thin ledges of hard, stony earth, the first ten, and the second sixty feet below the surface. Water fills the spaces between these ledges, while beneath the lower ledge is a deep cavity which the drills and measuring lines cannot fathom." It was the sudden collapsing of these ledges that caused the masses of filling to sink out of sight so unexpectedly.

Various are the explanations of this strange phenomenon. Some think there is a swift underground river emptying into the Harlem, a full mile away, or into Long Island Sound, three miles distant, which carries off with mighty force everything thrown into it. In South America there is a lake without any outlet, while one readily recalls the unaccountable mysteries of the Great Salt Lake, the Caspian and the Dead Seas. Subterranean human beings are fancifully described in Bulwer Lytton's novel, "The Coming Race," and Jules Verne in his "Journey to the Center of the Earth."

This Bronx version of the Flatiron Building was "for many years" the tallest building in the borough.