The Lunch Truck: Providing a Small Taste of Ethnic Foods for the Adventurous

What do you normally have for lunch? Leftovers? A sandwich? Do you bring it from home or do you buy it from a local eatery? In New York City, a sandwich (with a pickle and a bag of chips) will cost you about $8.00. A salad starts at about $5.00; the price increases depending on how many extras you toss in there. It can get pretty pricey over time. A possible solution? Lunch trucks and carts. [Above: The line for the Halal cart.]

Culture in Action 3: Parades—Public Festivals, Public Spectacles

Whether you care or not, if you live in the United States, you undoubtedly know by now that the New York Yankees won their 27th World Series title. As part of the winning tradition, the players and relevant staff were honored with a ticker tape parade on Friday, Nov. 6th, down the Canyon of Heroes (also known as Broadway when it isn't packed with screaming sports fans). The parade wound its way down to City Hall, where recently re-elected Mayor Bloomberg presented the team with the keys to the city.

Parades are held to mark a celebration. They're a form of public festival that draws in the community, and actually work to reestablish social ties: The idea is that we are all gathered to celebrate the same accomplishment—we are united in our celebration. Parade-goers are linked by their sense of pride and camaraderie. In a larger sense, parades are also a spectacle. It's a chance for a community to put on a show for their neighbors, to demonstrate their dominance. The accomplishment being celebrated connects the people present, but it also distinguishes them from others as well. And there is a great deal of preparation that goes into the show—from transit to safety to entrepreneurship to turning a blind eye when employees go missing for a few hours, everyone has a part to play. The spectacle is supported by the government because it provides a momentum that can be used. If buildings need to be built, laws need to be passed, or even wars need to be started, the momentum from such public celebrations can be mobilized. This sense of pride can carry forth many political agendas. [Image Left: A vendor sets up an impromtu stall on Nassau Street using a permanent sidewalk ornament.]

Ethnographers should always try to understand their biases, and their audiences should also have a sense of how the objectivity of information may be compromised. So before I go on, I need to confess that I considered calling this post "Infiltrating Enemy Territory." I am not a Yankees fan, as some of you may have surmised. I root for that other New York team, whose name I will not mention in a post about a parade for their rivals. I put a lot of though into whether this parade should be filed under the Culture in Action series, and ultimately decided that parades have a huge cultural element to them: they can reveal a great deal about the character and personality of a people through the ways in which society responds to these occasions. Regardless of the cause, a parade is still a chance to think about and talk about crowd dynamics. So as a dedicated anthropologist (who works within the vicinity of the parade route), I elbowed my way into enemy camp on Friday morning, bore witness to the scene, and extricated myself when chants of "Boston Sucks!" began to rise in pitch and intensity (belatedly realizing that I was wearing a red jacket—the color associated with the Yankees' arch rivals, the Boston Red Sox, and the team they beat for the championship, the Philadephia Phillies).

A coworker taking the PATH trainThe day began early for many fans. A great many people called in late or played hooky entirely, and teachers may have noticed a few empty desks on Friday morning. My morning commute was slightly more hectic than usual, as I contended with the large number of fans boarding the LIRR and subway. (which operates in a system similar to the LIRR) shared his morning commute with a dog who alternated between wandering the aisle and hopping up on the seat much to the annoyance of the conductor. Food vendors selling breakfast staples were doing brisk business as I made my way to my office building, weaving between the droves of people trying to get to Broadway.The came from all directions, of different sizes, shapes, and colors, all sporting the navy blue of their team. And there to greet them were the opportunistic street vendors who saw an chance to make a quick and relatively easy profit: banners and hats were $5.00, t-shirts cost $10.00. [Image Right: A dog ready for the Yankees' celebration downtown. Credit: J. DiBenedetto]

At about a quarter to eleven, I slipped into my jacket, grabbed my camera and hurried west on Wall Street. Several small groups—families with young children in tow—passed me, emitting triumphant whoops of joy. We all soon encountered a road block that could have ended all parade activities right then: Wall Street was closed at William Street, a good two blocks from Broadway. The police were blocking off street perpendicular to Broadway as they filled with people, and given the high profile of Wall Street itself, extra precautions were being taken to preserve the landmark. A cop advised us to walk north, so we walked a block to Pine Street, passing some more vendors, and turned west again to pack together as closely as we could to get a glimpse of the parade route. I ultimately wound up approximately half a block away from Broadway and still could only just see the events ahead of me. People got creative in searching for a good spot. Some climbed on the shoulders and backs of accommodating friends, boyfriends, and parents. Others climbed on top of city vehicles, though they were quickly chased off by watchful police. Some scaled buildings. Many buildings downtown have ledges about eight feet or so above the ground. They aren't wide, but if you're nimble, you can perch there to get above the crowd. And still others hung out of office windows.

[Above: Fans find a good vantage point.]

The crowd seemed to feed off of the growing energy. Laughter would erupt, and in true Yankees fan form, chants of "Boston Sucks!" and "Phillies Suck!" and "Let's Go Yankees!" and "Twen-ty Sev-en"—the hyphens emphasize the musical intonation of that particular chant—would swell periodically. It was definitely something to feel: a sea of people packed into side streets in shoulder to shoulder formation, speaking as one and thinking as one (except for the impostor in the red jacket). We were momentarily transported back to the stadium. The chants were something that everyone could participate in, including those who had not made it to a side street before the police began barricading those as well. But in truth, even those at the very end of the blocks and the people behind the barricades didn't seem upset that they couldn't see their beloved team. They were content to stand there, to be a part of the crowd, and take up their favorite war cries.

[Above: Crowd packed into Pine Street awaiting the parade.]

"Ticker tape" (really just shredded paper), thrown from buildings, drifted through the clear blue sky. In no time at all, the ground was covered, and everyone standing in the vicinity had scraps of paper in their hair and on their jackets. Ticker tape parades are unique to urban settings. They originated (where else?) in New York City. The first parade of this kind occured in 1886, when ticker tape was thrown during the dedication of the Statue of Liberty. The tape came from the old stock ticker machines, and when they were replaced by their electronic cousins, the ticker tape that filled the sky for these parades came from shredded office waste paper and city-supplied confetti. Caught in the wind, the scraps drifted for miles, blanketing Wall Street and the neighborhood. Lumbering street sweeping vehicles were on standby to get things back to order once the ceremonies wrapped up. [Image Left: "ticker tape" fills the sky.]

So there I was, in my red jacket, standing amongst a throng of people who probably would have fed me to the lions in the Colosseum had they known of my true loyalties. A cheer began to grow from the right along Broadway, cameras were thrust into the air around me, and the band marched by. Not to be dissuaded, the crowd continued to roar, their cries growing louder as the official photographers made their way down the Canyon. And then finally, They came. The moment these people had been waiting for arrived, and the crowd erupted, extending to the peripheries. In fact, those were the folks who probably yelled the loudest. Children were hoisted into the air. Hats were waved. A woman began to cry. [Image Right: Exuberant young fan tries to catch ticker tape. He did wind up snagging several large white sheets of copy paper.]

Remember when I said that athletes are our representatives on a public stage? We support teams because we believe in them—we trust them to protect our interests on the national stage. Well, the parade-goers turned out to say "Thank you." That was the feeling that seemed to radiate through the crowd. Yes, there was a bit of arrogance, but a certain amount of swagger is to be expected from the victorious—particularly when it is cultivated, and believe me, New Yorkers cultivate their swagger. People were there to say thank you. The spectacle was in the showing. The turnout was meant to send a clear message to rivals, and perhaps the strength of voices behind the cheers and the chants were meant to carry—I wonder if the hair on the backs of the necks of Bostonians and Philadelphians stood on end at that moment. Could the energy from this group have been so great as to travel that distance? [Image Left: The team passes this section of the crowd.]

Once the team passed, people began to trickle away from Broadway. Some were going back to their offices, like me, and others were headed to City Hall for the final celebration, and still others were packing into bars and joining lines to buy hot dogs and chicken with rice from food vendors. The mood was jubilant. Vendors were still hawking their wares as I made my way back toward Wall Street, fighting the crowd heading in the direction of City Hall. But the day was not over for many. Those who did not have tickets to the City Hall ceremony seemed content to mill about and drink in the remaining atmosphere. [Image Right: People moving toward City Hall.]

The effects of this public festival/spectacle will last well beyond the coming baseball season. The city's spirit has been renewed by this gathering of fans—even though they don't represent the complete spectrum of baseball supporters in New York. The festival/spectacle has permitted the assertion of a sense of social dominance and it will be something that all residents—whether you support this team or not—will carry forth with them in their travels. Our reputation, whether we want to share in it or not, has been bolstered. Once again, we are a city united, albeit some more reluctantly than others. The parade created a substantial expense for the city, which probably saw a tab in the range of $330,000.00, but the long term effects appear to outweigh these costs.  

[Above: Debris post-parade.]

Have you witnessed a parade or village festival on a smaller scale? Perhaps in your town or village? What was the atmosphere like? Let's talk about it below while we wait for Spring Training 2010.

Hey, I Know That Tree! Extracting Social Understanding from Local Landscapes

The New York Times recently ran a story about a 600-year-old oak in Douglaston, NY that had to be cut down as a result of rot. Six hundred years (age estimated—determining the age of a tree is actually way more complicated than just counting rings) is a long time. If the estimates are correct, that tree was here long before the Dutch arrived and "purchased" this land from the Lenape—and if trees could talk, it would probably have a lots stories in the tree vein of "When I was your age, I walked 10 miles in the snow to get to school, barefoot and uphill, both ways" to share. There's been a mixed reaction to the removal of the tree. Clearly, it's a part of the neighborhood and local history—it has seen generations of children grow up—and the people who don't want to see it go are in fact incensed that it's being dismantled. Others seem to think that the tree has had a long life and is being removed with the closest thing to dignity one can afford a tree.

So why am I talking about this tree? Anthropology focuses on people, right? In fact, the cornerstone of anthropology, ethnography, makes people its primary subject. But more and more, anthropologists are looking to alternative sources for information regarding the social lives of the people whom they study. Landscapes are one such alternative. Much of social life is lived unconsciously—we know how to be in our societies, and don't spend much time deliberating over nuances of daily life. Landscapes offer a physical way to track the changes a population experiences. They are therefore a reflection of social world for specific populations, and can be looked to as a source of ethnographic information because they are constructed in two very real ways. First, landscapes are shaped by aesthetic and ideological histories to reflect interpretations and symbols of the people who live there. Second, they are shaped by the evolution of human labor. According to the former idea, the tree has been permitted to grow and thrive even as Douglaston grew and developed around it as a symbol of the neighborhood. And with regard to the latter idea, the tree is being removed because we can remove the tree instead of letting it rot naturally. So in theory, landscapes are not natural—at least they haven't been since humans have learned how to manipulate the environment. But this also is the reason landscapes are such rich repositories of social knowledge: they have been specifically crafted to have meanings.

Image: Wall Street 1867 (Public Domain). View looking East from Nassau St. toward the East River.

Image: The Buttonwood Tree on Wall Street (Public Domain), year unknown. 

New York recently marked the 400th anniversary of Henry Hudson's voyage into New York Harbor and up the river that now bears his name. National Geographic's feature article for September explored some of the changes the land has undergone since Hudson marveled at the lush greenery—for example, I doubt you've encountered a stream in Times Square recently, or had to navigate around the polluted Collect where Foley Square now stands. And if we've ever had anything close to Elfreth's Alley in New York City, it's long gone now as is the Buttonwood Tree under which 24 brokers formed what we now know as the New York Stock Exchange. (The Museum of American Finance has a copy of the Buttonwood Agreement here.)

Image: NY Harbor, 2009. Picture taken from Battery Park. It was a windy day and the surf was rather rough. The National Geographic article mentions that Hudson found the water to be "faire." In Hudson's time, this shot would not have been possible—the park was built on landfill in the 1800s. And yes, that is Lady Liberty in the distance. She was unveiled in 1886.

Of course, New York has a rich history in this regard. However, unlike places like Philly and DC, it's a not a place that really markets that history. Instead, more in keeping with the personality of the city, culture and history often get rolled into progress and are repurposed—cobblestones get paved over, buildings from the 1830s (such as 213 Pearl St.) are turned into parking garages, and so on. (You can read more about 213 Pearl St. here and here.) So while we might know that Captain Kidd was a resident of what we now call the downtown area, an office building now stands where his home once was. (Hey, at least you don't have to pay admission to see the office building!)

Image: An office building now stands at the site of the fearsome Captain Kidd's home in Hanover Square.

The island has been stretched, repaved, and rebuilt countless times. New York City is constantly reinventing itself to match the ever-changing population. This map provides a look at how the actual shape of Manhattan has developed over the years. (Natural coastline? Fugettaboutit! New Yorkers—particularly those downtown—are walking on ancient trash heaps in some places! Use the "Vertical Scroll" to see what I mean.) But just as the Old Oak of Douglaston will pass into memory, so too have many of the changes the city has undergone passed from the collective consciousness—and really, we can't remember everything or there'd be no need for history. But there are clues if you're willing to look—and what we have left with can tell us the story of Manhattan's development.

Image: Intersection of Water St. and Wall, 2009. This spot once marked the end of the wall constructed here—and the end of the island. View looking east toward the water.

Image: The East River, 2009. I had to walk an additional two blocks after taking the picture above to reach the water's edge, when I would have been standing on the water's edge at Wall and Water in 1609.

 

Image: Activity on the East River. 

The three images above provide a good example of the expansion the city has undergone. We've grown the equivalent of two whole blocks in this particular area! The "missing" land was filled in with shells (from the river) and landfill as the colony grew. We diminished the span of the river, but this did nothing to reduce it's importance in travel and commerce. In Activity on the East River, a ferry enters the shot from the right, with active Brooklyn shipping docks in the background. In the images below, we can see the same type of expansion.

Image: Looking west on Wall St. toward Trinity Church.

Image: A bit dark, but always welcoming, Trinity Church once marked the other end of the island. Life now extends well beyond the church—you can see buildings in progress in the background. Corner of Nassau St. and Wall St., 2009.

Downtown does not always follow the neat grids that outline the rest of the city. The streets follow the original lay of the land, twisting and turning at odd angles to reflect the paths people traveled to accommodate the small streams that were common to the area. And since the first settlers did not arrive with automobiles, most streets are only wide enough to permit carts to pass.

Image: Tourist map of the downtown area. Note how the streets deviate from the grid pattern found elsewhere in the city.

Image: Pearl Street, 2009. Pearl Street was once nothing more than a dirt path. It got its name when it was lined with shells. Instead of cars, you would have been more likely to see traffic jams with livestock and wooden carts.

Image: Exchange Street, 2009. Between William St. and Hanover Sq. Short "alleys" like this are common to the area. Their hodgepodge arrangement remind us that space was at a premium even in the early days of the colony. Today, this road is not really used (except for parking).

Despite the constant march forward, sometimes we do remember. There are still cobblestone streets downtown, and Wall Street just completed a massive project to repave portions of the street with cobblestones—I've heard that it was done for monetary reasons (film permits for cobblestone streets bring higher revenue than film permits for regular paved streets), but it is a nice reminder of the past. Of course, the days when carts trundled up the dirt track that would become a financial pulse in the global economy are long gone, but it forces us to recognize an element of our history.

Image: Wall Street, 2009. Re-cobbling of Wall Street.

There are some striking symbols here that have survived the passing of time to become integral to the landscape of downtown New York City, such as Wall Street, Trinity Church, and the reappearance of the cobblestones. There is also evidence of humanity's progression in the forced expansion of the island. Clearly a relationship must exist between the social world and the physical one—a relationship that lives on even after the removal of an icon, as in the case of the Douglaston Oak. If we can understand anything from these photos, it's that the removal of the oak will have a profound effect on the community. Something may be built where that oak once stood, with time the relationship residents of Douglaston have with their neighborhood will shift, and the oak will pass into the annals of history.

Our needs for growth and space have not changed much since the early days of the colony—who knows how we will shift the landscape to meet them in the coming days.

Has your neighborhood changed over the years? What landmarks from your social world have been removed and/or replaced? Chime in below!