Buskers Help Spread Cheer

Following my recent post on street performers, also known as buskers as I recently discovered, I've been noticing them everywhere. Their proliferation is probably due in part to the charity of the holiday season—I wonder what their tips have looked like this year.

In any case, this group at Penn Station was really groovin'. The brass players had a number of passersby tapping their feet and bobbing their heads. And one of the band members kept breaking into an impromptu dance. The diversity of the group was also noteworthy—the musical language crosses all divides it seems. I just had to stop for a second and capture them for you all. Hope you're picking up good vibes from this group via the network effect.

Happy Holidays!

[Image Above: Buskers at Penn Station. Center horn player in the midst of his dance.]

[Image Above: The horns get fired up.]

Finding Traces of New York City's Dutch Heritage

While we tend to think of the history of New York City in terms of the English settlement, the truth is the city's foundation is decidedly Dutch. I say this without any disrespect to the original inhabitants of the land that so enraptured the early Europeans, but it's true. And it is the Dutch I wish to speak of today. Believe it or not, much of the New Amsterdam colony has remained—names of places in and around the city, as well as throughout much of the New England region, remind us of our Dutch heritage: Stuyvesant, the Bouwerie, Greenwyck (Greenwich Village), Breuckelen (Brooklyn), Parelstraat (Pearl Street), Fresh Kills, Gravesende, Van Cortland, Nieuw Haarlem (Harlem), Vlissing (Flushing), Lange Eyelandt, as well as Roode Eyelandt and many more, attest to a Dutch presence in our history. And the truth is that had we solely been an English colony, the flavor of New York City would be immensely different today. While the English Puritans were establishing mono-cultures to the north in Boston and the surrounding areas and to the south in Virginia, New Amsterdam was already a bustling model of diversity. As a port settlement, its main concern was business (which remains true today), so people of many different backgrounds, religions, and races—and characters—settled here from its earliest inception. [Image Right: The Jansson-Visscher 1656 Map, Dutch North American colonies; reprinted 1685. Public domain.]

As a port New Amsterdam was as boisterous as New York City is today, and it wasn't long before the Dutch West India Company's Director-Generals felt they needed to instill law and order. Peter Minuit attempted to do this with a Thursday counsel in the rudely constructed Fort Amsterdam. Subsequent Director-Generals, including William Kieft and Petrus Stuyvesant, conducted government business out of the Fort as well, which also provided a base for trade for the Dutch West India Company. It was definitely an important site in the development of the colony—providing a sense of protection and serving as a point of contact with the mother land.

Image Above: Map of New Amsterdam, c. 1660. Fort Amsterdam is the quadrangular structure at the tip of the island. Note the shoreline. Source: New York Historical Society. Public Domain.

The colony was growing in leaps and bounds, and perhaps understanding early that to effectively run a colony with such a diverse population you needed to be in touch with its residents, Director-General William Kieft had a stone tavern constructed on the corner of Coenties Slip and Pearl Street in approximately 1642. At this time, taverns did more than just serve your favorite brew: They were meeting places, inns, and the den of politicians. (Although, in truth, Kieft may have commissioned the building partly because he needed a place to send the guests he was forced to entertain in the Fort.) So it was that the Stadt Herbert became the first City Hall of sorts in New York City—though it would not be officially commissioned as such until 1653 under Stuyvesant. At that time, its name was also officially changed to Stadt Huys (literally, State House) or less formally, City Tavern. In 1653, when the signing of the municipal charter officially named the settlement as a city, the town officials stated as their first piece of business that

"herewith [to] inform everybody that they shall hold their regular meetings in the house hitherto called the City Tavern, henceforth the City Hall, on Monday mornings from 9 o'clock, to hear there all questions of difference between litigants and decide them the best they can" (Shorto 2005: 257).

And so, without much pomp, the first City Hall was installed on the island of Manhattan, just feet away from the water's edge in what would become the downtown area. However, long before it's official establishment as City Hall, it was a meeting place for organizers and activists, such as the Board of Nine, which included Adriaen van der Donck, who quite possibly conceived the term "American" and was perhaps the early colony's most enthusiastic supporter. [Image Right: City Tavern on the East River water front, c. 1655.]

Of course, even in its early days, New York City was a place where progress was often cited as a reason for development. Stadt Huys served as City Hall until 1697, when Lovelace Tavern, which stood next door, assumed the honor. Lovelace Tavern was constructed in 1670 by New York's second English governor, Francis Lovelace. The English had seized the colony in 1664 and perhaps the movement to this site was in part to eradicate the Dutch hold on the colony in the minds of the residents, who were permitted to stay and hold on to their possessions after the transfer of power. The colony itself had also at this point been renamed for the Duke of York (only history would ever know it as New Amsterdam again). It also underwent a transformation—when the Dutch temporarily reclaimed the city (which they then named New Orange), it had begun to resemble London faintly. In any case, Lovelace Tavern served as a temporary home for City Hall. It apparently burned down in 1706, and City Hall was then moved to the site of Federal Hall on Wall Street. (City Hall would come to reside at its present location in 1811—and it is the oldest building in the United States to have been used continuously as a city hall. FYI, the Bowery Boys have an amazing photo up of City Hall from 1855. Check it out!) Though all physical traces of the original City Tavern have been lost, when construction for the building at 85 Broad Street commenced, the foundation for the neighboring Lovelace Tavern was uncovered in New York's first archaeological excavation. The foundation was ultimately incorporated into a permanent display at 85 Broad in an effort to preserve the city's history.  

[Image Left Top: Archaeological display at 85 Broad in Lower Manhattan. Image Above: Stone foundation of Lovelace Tavern, c. 1670] 

In excavating the site, additional glimpses into life in the early days of the colony have been revealed. An early 18th-century well was uncovered that is said to have resided on land belonging to longtime residents, the Philipse family, of the Philipse Manor. The well extended down to the waterline, reminding us that the East River's waterfront once ran along what is now Pearl Street, and that a fair portion of downtown Manhattan was actually physically constructed as the colony grew. It provided water to the entire block, and when the waterline was pushed back and it was no longer used, it was filled with everyday items—it became a trash receptacle. That the cistern had been installed at this site by the early to mid-1700s tells us that the neighborhood was evolving. Buildings were being torn down and new ones erected, or re-purposed. We're placed in a moment of great change in the history of New York City.

[Image Above: 18th-century cistern in lower Manhattan.]

While New York City continues to evolve, its past echoes faintly in the Dutch-revival buildings downtown—none are original: the original architecture vanished in the fires of 1776 and 1835. The Dutch have left a legacy in the places that bear their names. And they have left a legacy in diversity, which they tolerated since it helped business. Of course, tolerance should not be confused for equality; they did not accord everyone the same rights in the colony, though everyone had some rights. The legal records that have survived provide evidence that slaves filed suits against Europeans regularly; that some slaves were freed by their owners; and that Europeans were sometimes employed by freed slaves. In this rambunctious port city, Africans were some of the most stable residents of the island. Intermarriage between persons of different nationalities and religions also occurred here with greater frequency than other colonies. Thus, it seems that while the landscape has evolved through the ages, the character of the city, that brisk business settlement where tolerance can be expected, remains.

I encourage you all to go out and learn a bit of the early European settlers in your neck of the woods—you might be surprised by their resolve. And for an amazing depiction of the colony of New Amsterdam, Russell Shorto's Island at the Center of the World is strongly recommended.

Here are some additional scenes of the old colony:

Image Above: Coenties Slip and Pearl Street, c. 1665. The site of the City Tavern, New York's first City Hall. Note the shoreline of the East River. The City Tavern was also less than a two minute walk from Fort Amsterdam, putting it within easy reach of the Director-Generals—and their guests.

 

Image Above: The corner of Coenties Slip and Pearl Street, Nov. 2009. No trace of City Tavern remains. However, the yellow bricks in the foreground represent the foundation of City Tavern, which was reconstructed using old maps. The gray paving stones in the background mark the foundation of the Lovelace Tavern. To the left, businesses now line Pearl Street where the East River once met settlers hunting for oysters and looking for Dutch ships.

 

Image Above: Pearl Street, across from 85 Broad, Nov. 2009. Businesses along where the East River waterline once existed.

Cited:

Shorto, Russell. The Island at the Center of the World. New York: Vintage Books, 2005.

Negotiating Private Beliefs and Public Behavior With the Meter Running

Last week was a relatively busy one. While the Yankees were being paraded down Broadway and Mayor Bloomberg was holding on determinately for a chance at another term in office, regular people were contending with the social order. Last week Paul Bruno and his partner, Erick Ruales, were ejected from a New York City cab because they were engaged in public displays of affection in the backseat. Bruno and his partner allegedly "sat close," possibly hugging (maybe they shared a kiss), which the driver, Medhat Mohamed, found distracting and felt compromised his ability to get them to their destination. Mohamed was ultimately concerned that their snuggling was a precursor to sex, and two blocks into the ride, demanded that they exit the cab. Bruno and Ruales were appalled at their treatment and have filed a complaint against the driver. The Taxi and Limousine Commission is currently investigating. If Mohamed is found guilty of a "service refusal," he could be fined. According to the Post (which has surprisingly provided in-depth coverage of the story—the newspaper has a reputation for tabloid-quality writing), "the first offense is a $200 to $350 fine, the second a $350 to $500 fine and a 30-day suspension, and the third strike is license revocation." [Image Right: Paul Bruno, Credit NY Post.]

While the Village Voice has wryly noted that being kicked out of a cab is a mark of a true New Yorker, in a city whose history is steeped in diversity, tolerance is a city standard—and in an interesting twist is seemingly being preached on behalf of both sides: The public response has provided support for both Bruno and Ruales, and Mohamed as well. The cabbie's supporters state that he has a right to a work environment where he is both safe and comfortable. And he does. However, he is also a service provider. He is not a city worker, but he engages the public on a regular basis. It is his livelihood. In his line of work, his job is take people—provided they don't present a threat to his well-being and can pay the fare—from Point A to Point B. Of course he has to right to ensure that his personal safety is not compromised—but at what point do such decisions come to be regarded as profiling? Is he given a set criteria against which to measure safety? Hardly, because the issue of personal safety is not a concrete measure. The line separating these types of decisions is a fine one, open to personal beliefs, which is not a fair measure for either party.

In Minnesota, Muslim cab drivers objected to transporting passengers who had been drinking or who were carrying alcohol, such as wine, from the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport because it violated the terms of their religion. According to one driver,

"The one who drinks, the one who transports, and the one who makes a business of it, they have the same category."

These drivers argued that transporting passengers who have been drinking or who are carrying alcohol violated their religious freedom. And they are right. However, like Mohamed, they have entered a profession that requires them to work with all members of the public. As a result, the Minnesotan cab drivers have also faced investigations for service refusal, although the Metropolitan Airport Commission is working with them to mediate the situation. They suggested that cabbies who would not transport passengers carrying alcohol install lights on their roofs to indicate their non-alcohol stipulation, but this policy met a poor reception. For now, cabbies must move to the back of the queue, which could mean another three hour wait between fares. This is an industry that relies on people's need to travel when they themselves are unable to to provide the transportation. In New York City, inebriated party-goers are encouraged to take advantage of mass transit options, which includes cabs, to protect both themselves and other motorists from drunk driving accidents. Is there room here for this type of negotiation?

People get kicked out of cabs all the time, for being disorderly, for getting sick, and for getting too frisky in the backseat. But Bruno and Mohamed have raised issues of discrimination and religious beliefs. The medallion holder for Mohamed's cab has stated that according to Islam, displays of affection between same-sex couples are unacceptable. To avoid penalties and possibly losing his license, Mohamed has has to prove that his discomfort was not caused by the sexual orientation of his passengers, that he would have accorded a straight couple with the same treatment. Mayor Bloomberg has denounced the cab driver (with the politician's disclaimer that he does so only if the story is as stated) saying that

"Somebody's orientation has absolutely nothing to do with whether they can ride a taxi. That kind of attitude doesn't fit with what this city's become."

Is there room for Mohamed's religious argument? In discussing this case with someone, he argued time and time again that despite the civil right issues, Mohamed is an independent operator, and like other businesses, he has a right to determine how he will do business and with whom. But in a business that has such a broad reach, is this argument justifiable? When working with the public, where does the line between personal beliefs get drawn? PDA's are everywhere. People hold hands on the street, they may kiss at the bar, and I won't get into what I've seen happen on the subway. If there is to be a standard for public behavior, then it needs to be explicitly stated and enforced—and not by a New York City cab driver, whose sole responsibility is to get his fares to their destination quickly and safely.  But beyond questions of public decency and disorderly conduct, which are fairly subjective judgments, how can such a standard be set? The law states with regard to public decency and disturbing the peace that persons whose behavior

endangers the public peace or health or which openly outrages public decency for which no other punishment is expressly prescribed by this code, is guilty of a misdemeanor.

In other words, there is no concrete measure—anything found offensive can be filed under this heading. Did Bruno and Ruales endanger the public peace? Did they openly outrage public decency? Are they guilty of a misdemeanor? On whose measure are they to be judged? Did Mohamed endanger public peace or outrage public decency? There is clearly a lot of room here for interpretation. And the interpretation can be colored by personal biases. Is this a case of personal belief coloring business practices? Talk back below. [Image Left: Medhat Mohamed. Credit James Messerschmidt, NY Post.]

The Spirit of America—Haunted and Hallowed

When describing American society, the traditional image has been that of a melting pot. The idea being that immigrants to the United States assimilated, leaving behind their traditions and values. For an emerging nation seeking to establish itself the politics of sameness may have been a unifying force. But while early immigrants may have been unable to import tools to support traditions and cultural practices, the rise of globalism eased this challenge and made it easier for immigrants to remember their histories. Increasingly today, to be American does not imply a standard set of traditions and values—there is room to remember your own roots. We are a richer culture for it. For this reason, the metaphor describing Americans has shifted to favor cultural diversity, proposing an image of a tossed salad or salad bowl: the different ingredients in the salad each retain their individual properties but are united in the salad bowl. My trouble with this image is that it doesn't account for the common element that binds people together in the formation of a nation. If we are a nation of salad ingredients, are we held together by dressing? The bowl?

There are certain traditions and practices that seem to reach through culture. They are shaped by multiple histories and adopted by most people, making them social markers. Halloween is one such observance. Its history is rooted in the past. As an observance, it has been touched and shaped by major political and social forces through the ages. Today it is celebrated around the world in some form, providing a unifying basis for many people. In America, the present form of Halloween suggests that perhaps we should consider describing our nation as a patchwork quilt. We are different elements, even unique elements, sewn together by an underlying belief in freedom. That we can all share in Halloween festivities regardless of our ancestry suggests that festivals that are flexible can not only survive, but bind people together.

[Image: A local graveyard installed on a neighbor's lawn.]

Halloween traces its roots to the Gaelic festival of Samhain, which was marked on November 1st by the Celts. It was a harvest festival—timed to prepare for the coming cold. It was a moment of change, and during this transitory period the Celts believed the border between this world and the next was thinnest: Spirits could pass easily into this world to walk the earth. On Samhain night, the Celts wore animal skins to confuse the spirits and to avoid their tricks. It was also thought that because the spirit world was so close that this was an optimal night for divination. To thank the earth for the harvest, the Celts offered blood sacrifices, such as livestock, and Druids read the entrails of the animals to foresee what lay ahead—who would die, who would marry, etc. The predictions provided entertainment for the evening.

While Samhain was being observed by the Celts, the Romans were worshiping the goddess Pomona in a similar harvest festival. The offered her fruits, notably apples—the basis for bobbing for apples. When the Romans conquered the lands that the Celts occupied, the two traditions merged. However, the rise of Christianity did not permit the worship of nature spirits. A concerted effort began to erase Samhain, which stood as a symbol of paganism. The conversion of Constantine helped this cause, but missionaries found it difficult to carry out his orders, so they devised a plan to modify paganism to mask Christian beliefs. In the 8th century, Pope Gregory III turned Samhain into All Saints Day—a day to honor the saints who did not have a special day already. The eve of All Saints Day, All Hallows Day, became the day in which the practices of Samhain were observed. The "evening of Hallows" ultimately became Halloween. [Image: A modern day ghost.]

People continued to dress in animal skins, put out offerings for spirits, and mark Samhain in the name of All Hallows. In the 10th century, November 2 was pronounced All Souls Day. It was a day to honor all dead—the church's attempt to completely replace Samhain with a church sanctioned holiday. The resilience of what we call Halloween suggests it provides us, as human beings, with something we are reluctant to relinquish. Halloween permits us to believe in a spiritual world that we can reach without the intervention of a empowered other, such as a priest. In fact, it was on these grounds that the church ultimately splintered: In 1517, Martin Luther would nail The Ninety-Five Theses to a church door, discrediting the practice of indulgences, and bringing about the Protestant Reformation. Luther sought to bring people closer to god, without the help of priests or saints. All Saints Day was cast aside, and Halloween become a symbol of protest.

Halloween in the American colonies was a scant affair. The Puritans who settled here found the holiday too pagan and too Catholic. It was the arrival of the Irish in America that helped Halloween blossom:

• The Irish originally carved turnips to frighten away "Stingy Jack," who made an ill-fated deal with the devil and was forced to wander the world with a lump of coal in a turnip to light his way, which people called "jack-o-lanterns." Turnips were harder to come by in America, but pumpkins were available and easy to carve—and the name stuck.
  

• As mentioned, Halloween night was a time when spirits would walk about and play tricks on people. Ireland is littered with fairy mounds, and the Irish believed that fairies would emerge from their mounds on this night. The practice of costuming and the tradition of tricks on Halloween night is meant confuse these spirits.

• Halloween night is an optimal time for divination. There are several Halloween games that allow you to predict your romantic future which are played today. Similarly, the practice of telling these predictions gives us the precursor for telling ghost stories on this haunted night.

• The word witch comes from an English word, wicca, meaning wise one. The embodiment of the witch as evil was so powerful that animals associated with witches also became powerful—cats, which are nocturnal, were thought to be the wandering spirit of the witch. Today, black cats are a popular decoration item.

• Bonfires were a big part of the Samhain celebrations. But bonfires would attract mosquitoes, which in turn would attract bats, which also became a popular Halloween decoration.
  

We have woven these elements together to create our own particular brand of Halloween. People add their own touches to the holiday all the time. In this way, Halloween can belong to all of us and still hold its mystique. Its survival despite the church's attempts to sanitize and edit it as a festival and observance is something that many immigrant groups can relate to—whether they do so consciously or not. And in some ways, its survival represents the American ideal: that you can come here, from anywhere, and live free of persecution and be accepted. This is an idea that many Americans hold to be sacred—though not many may know that a supposed spooky tradition embodies this ideal.

What are your favorite Halloween traditions? Share them below.

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