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.
I made two piles. The items in bold in the list above represent the things I believe I absolutely must have on me to see me through the day from the moment I leave the house to my return in the evening. It wasn't too bad, I thought—it seemed that I was carrying mostly essential items. The coupons I probably would never use, and the bill would be thrown away once I paid it. I don't really need my check book all the time since I rarely ever pay for anything with a check—in fact, I could probably get away with tucking an emergency check into my wallet and leaving the book at home. And since I don't drive everyday, I could theoretically leave my car key at home. [Image Right: The contents of my handbag, minus the cell phone which was used to take this picture.]
The need to be connected at all times is the reason I feel at a loss without my cell phone. It's essential because my world, which is not the hunter-gatherer experience, makes it so. Still it made me wonder what else people might consider as essential. In addition to my essentials, a quick office poll added iPod and headphones (because some phones allow you to listen to music), a pen, and a snack (hmm, good idea for those long subway rides). Others mentioned hand cream—for those moisturizing emergencies—and sanitizer. I am a big fan of the latter having had someone sneeze on me on the subway and then pretend nothing had happened. [Image Left: The popularity and presence of cell phones indicates their necessity.]
with 9-out-of-10 people carrying them in hand at all times. I also spotted a portable video game system. Riders also have mp3 players or reading materials—a small percentage of the population read while using mp3 players, and a smaller segment have replaced their reading material with a Kindle. I've spotted guitars, several ceremonial staffs (on different occasions, carried by different people), small dogs in shoulder bags, and who knows what wonders lurk in close duffels, backpacks, and totes. I am not these people—I don't know if they truly consider the items and animals I noted as essential. Nonetheless, the variety gives you pause. [Image Right: A portable game system is a necessity for this traveler.]
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
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. 
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.]
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]
"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.]
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.]
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.]
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.]
