The odd death of the man who built Central Park

Central Park may be his magnum opus. But Calvert Vaux was also the architect or co-designer behind so many late 19th century New York treasures—like the original structures for the Museum of Natural History and Metropolitan Museum of Art.

So it had to have been a shock to New Yorkers to open the newspaper on November 21, 1895, and read headlines proclaiming that 70-year-old Vaux had gone missing.

Vaux, who lived in Manhattan, was staying at his son’s house “on 20th Avenue between Bath and Benson Avenues,” in Brooklyn, reported The New York Times.

“Mr. Vaux had left in his son’s house a gold watch and chain and his vest. It is believed he had about $2 in change in his pockets.”

Hotels, hospitals, even Prospect Park were all searched. But Vaux was nowhere to be found.

The next day’s paper reported grim news: Vaux’s body was found in Gravesend Bay.

It’s assumed that he “fell off the pier in an attack of dizziness or faintness,” the Times stated.

His son denied suicide and “murder was not even suggested.” But to this day, Vaux’s death is almost always characterized as “mysterious.“

[Above, Bow Bridge, one of the lovely bridges, arches, and other structures Vaux incorporated in his Central Park design, in a NYPL photo]

The most enchanting sign in Coney Island

For its neon beauty and the cheap thrills it promises—sun, surf, and juicy hot dogs—does any sign beat iconic Nathan’s Famous at Surf and Stillwell Avenues?

Repeat the words enough, and they start to sound like a four-line haiku. “Take Home Food”: Is it a noun? A command? This is what Coney Island should look like.

I don’t know how old the sign is, but Nathan’s has been serving hot dogs, fried clams, and even frog legs (has anyone been brave enough to try them?) since 1916.

Driggs Avenue: Henry Miller’s “early paradise”

“It’s strange what a little boy remembers of his early life,” wrote Henry Miller in a 1971 New York Times essay, nine years before the death of the author of Tropic of Cancer and other great 20th century novels.

Until age nine, Miller lived with his family (at left) at 662 Driggs Avenue (below) in Williamsburg. His memories of what he deemed his “sojourn in paradise” offer fascinating glimpses of life through a kid’s eyes in 1890s Brooklyn.

“Diagonally opposite us was Fillmore Place, just one block long, which was my favorite street and which I can still see vividly if I close my eyes.”

“At the Driggs Avenue end of this street was a saloon and at the other end a kindergarten. I remember the saloon because as a child I was often sent to get a pitcher of beer at the side entrance.”

“A few doors from our house were the shanties, two or three decrepit buildings right out of a Dickens novel. In one of them was a candy store owned by two spinsters called the Meinken Sisters.”

No street was as sensual as Grand Street, says Miller, thanks to Reynolds Bakery.

“The back of the bakery gave out on North First Street, where we often played cat, or shimmy as we called it then, and the aroma of fresh baked bread, crullers and donuts assailed our nostrils day in and day out.”

“Continuing south on Driggs Avenue one came to Broadway where the elevated ran. Beyond that lay the aristocratic Bedford section. Immediately beyond Broadway was the Fountain, where on Sunday the bicycle riders gathered to ride to Prospect Park and Coney Island.”

“Years later, when I took up quarters in Paris, in the poor districts especially, I often ran across streets which reminded me of that strange territory surrounding Metropolitan Avenue.”

This blog devoted to Henry Miller covers more ground in the Times article, which is behind a paywall.

The cost of entering a city tunnel in the 1960s

Last month, the Port Authority voted to hike tolls by more than 50 percent over the next five years.

No big deal if you don’t leave Manhattan—or don’t drive. But by 2015, it’ll run bridge and tunnelers up to $15 to cross over.

It’s hefty price compared to toll costs in the early 1960s, when this city street map was published.

The Holland Tunnel toll cost 50 cents. The Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel a mere 35 cents.

Drivers in the early 1960s forked over about the same amount of coin to use the Lincoln Tunnel (50 cents) and the Queens Midtown Tunnel (25 cents).

Adjust the numbers for inflation, however, and those tolls shouldn’t be more than $3.70 today.

This city playground looks like too much fun

“A busy day at Heckscher Playground” reads the caption of this 1927 Parks Department photo, taken in Central Park.

It’s an old playground—the area that became Heckscher was set aside for play back in 1858 according to Central Park’s original design.

Check out that jungle gym (is that cement on the ground?) and those tall curlicue slides—they would never be allowed in playgrounds these days.

But these little New Yorkers look like they’re having a blast on gear deemed unsafe by today’s standards.

Vintage matchbook ads for ethnic restaurants

You can discern a bit about the city’s culinary history based on the ads bars and  restaurants used to print on the free matchbooks they once offered.

Patrissey’s opened in 1906 and served Neapolitan standards. The old-school eatery snagged a new name, Nolita’s, in 2000. Which didn’t last, of course.

“Sometime around 1920, enterprising Mr. Lum took a five-minute walk north from Chinatown and opened this Canal Street Institution—three-story, white-tiled—with clothier Moe Levy as angel,” writes Knife and Fork in New York, a 1948 guide.

Lum Fong is gone, but another Chinese restaurant has taken its place.

“Distinctive European Atmosphere” raves the copy on this matchbook about the Russian Tea Room. Knife and Fork in New York wasn’t too impressed:

“Menu offerings include Russian hors d’oeuvres, beef a la Strogonoff, chicken cutlet a la Kiev, and French and American stand-by dishes.”

The place is currently still open, with the same garish decor it’s been known for for decades.

A tourist murdered in a midtown subway station

Every so often, a crime comes along that’s so extraordinarily senseless, it doesn’t just grip New York—it makes national headlines.

That was the case with the stabbing of Brian Watkins (right) in 1990, a year that saw a record  2,245 murders in the city.

Tennis fan Watkins, 22, and his family were in from Utah to see the U.S. Open. On the night of September 2, they entered the 53rd Street E train station to have dinner in the Village.

They had the bad luck of being targeted by a group of teenagers looking to rob someone so they could each cover the $15 admission fee to Roseland, the dance club on 50th Street.

The mugging was quick and brutal. “Brian’s father, Sherwin, was knocked to the ground and slashed with a boxcutter,” explains a 2010 article from City Limits. “Brian’s mother said she was grabbed by the hair, hunched over and kicked in the face and chest.”

Brian responded by lunging toward her, and he was then stabbed in the chest by one of the teens. He collapsed at the token booth and was pronounced dead at St. Vincent’s Hospital, his pulmonary artery severed.

The teenagers did go dancing at Roseland that night . . . but were quickly caught and tried. Seven got 25 years to life prison terms.

“Public outcry over Mr. Watkins’s murder put pressure on Mayor David N. Dinkins to hire more police officers and has driven his administration’s fiscal priorities ever since,” a 1992 New York Times article stated.

In 1991, the city put Brian’s name on a public tennis court in East River Park.