Where was Nathan Hale really hanged?

A 13-foot statue of Revolutionary War hero Nathan Hale stands tall in City Hall Park. Yet no one seems to know for sure where he was actually executed for spying on the British.

There are two competing locations. A plaque posted on a Banana Republic store at Third Avenue and 66th Street claims that the 21-year-old American spy was strung up on a gallows within 100 yards of that site on September 22, 1776.

The information comes from a British Officer’s diary, which stated that the hanging occurred at “the Royal Artillery Park near the Dove Tavern at the old Post Road, now Third Avenue. . . .”

But there’s another plaque, on East 44th Street and Vanderbilt Avenue, that says this is the location of Hale’s execution and that the “British Artillery Park” existed here.

The building the plaque (below) is affixed to belongs to the Yale Club. Hale was a Yale graduate, class of 1773.

 

A War of 1812 fort in Central Park

The Revolutionary War left a deep mark on New York City. But the War of 1812? This skirmish with the British hasn’t had a lasting impact here, save for a tiny stone structure tucked away in the northwest corner of Central Park called Blockhouse #1.

The Blockhouse was built in 1814, one of many constructed in Upper Manhattan to protect the area from the British should they invade the city from the north.

It’s in a part of Central Park that is still rugged, high, and hard to reach—the perfect place for some canons.

Luckily the British never attacked, and the war was over in 1815. The Blockhouse was later used to store ammunition as well as a place to celebrate patriotic holidays.

When Central Park was expanded in the 1860s to include the undeveloped, rocky land between 106th and 110th Street, the Blockhouse came with it. The old structure was considered a romantic, picturesque reminder of another era. 

It’s now empty, serene, and mostly lifeless, except for a tall American flag soaring into the sky from the flagpole in the center of the fort. 

New York war hero: Margaret Corbin

It’s Memorial Day weekend—an appropriate time to remember Margaret Corbin, considered by some to be the first female American soldier and someone whose name shows up all over Northern Manhattan.

Corbin was the wife of a Virginia farmer who had enlisted in the Pennsylvania state artillery to fight for the colonists during the Revolutionary War. Rather than stay at home alone, she joined his company as a “camp follower,” as other wives were called, cooking and nursing wounded soldiers.

On November 16, 1776, their company was stationed at Fort Washington—where Fort Tryon Park is today—to help stave off a sneak attack launched by British and Hessian forces. After her husband was killed instantly while operating a canon, Margaret stepped into his place and began firing.

Though the four-hour battle ended with the enemy capturing Fort Washington, and she was severely wounded, Margaret supposedly proved to be one of the best gunners on the colonists’ side. 

She never fully recovered from her injuries and was eventually given $30 plus a lifetime disability pension.

Today, a plaque in Fort Tryon Park honors her bravery. And Northern Manhattan near The Cloisters is home to Margaret Corbin Drive and Margaret Corbin Circle.

Manhattan’s obscure little streets

Much of Manhattan conforms to the grid laid out in the early 19th century, with streets and avenues following a mostly ordered number (and sometimes letter) system. 

But lots of tiny nooks and alleys with obscure names lurk among the numbers and letters—like Mount Carmel Place, two blocks spanning 26th and 28th Street between Second and First Avenues. The street name must come from a church that disappeared long ago.

Moylan Place isn’t much of a street; it’s just kind of a spot off 126th Street and Broadway. I’d guess it was a street at one time. According to a 1921 New York Times article, it was named after a soldier who died in World War I whose father, William Moylan, lived on the block for many years. 

Spanning 34th Street to 42nd Street, Dyer Avenue’s main purpose is to herd traffic into the Lincoln Tunnel. General George R. Dyer was the head of the Port Authority when the George Washington Bridge opened in 1931.

The Doughboys of New York City

Many of New York’s small neighborhood parks have one: a bronze statue of a lone infantryman or sometimes several soldiers together, with a plaque memorializing all the local young men killed in World War I. These statues of doughboys are heroic and somber, and they’re worth a look as Veteran’s Day comes to a close.

Here’s the Red Hook doughboy, in his glory. The names of dozens of neighborhood men who died in the war are inscribed on a tablet below.

The Bushwick doughboy is dashing and heroic, posed under the M train tracks:

Chelsea’s doughboy has an unusual hat and cape:

Surviving war is a team effort, as the Washington Heights/Inwood monument makes clear:

There’s another doughboy statue in DeWitt Clinton Park in the West 50s. The haunting final lines of the great war poem In Flanders Fields are inscribed at its base.

A victory parade at Madison Square Park

In March 1919, the city threw a spectacular parade on Fifth Avenue to honor the soldiers from New York’s 27th Division, who broke the Hindenburg Line in World War I and forced the Germans to retreat. 

A ceremony took place at the victory arch at Madison Square Park, built in 1918 and modeled after the Arch of Constantine in Rome. Nope, it’s not there anymore. Despite an attempt to make it a permanent part of the park, the arch was eventually torn down.

Of 27,114 men, the 27th division sustained more than 8,000 casualties. The New York Times had this to say about the parade: 

“Early Tuesday morning the Avenue from 23rd Street to 26th Street will be carpeted with sand and roped off. As the head of the parade comes down the ropes will be severed by a bayonet wielded by a Sergeant wearing British and American valor medals.

“A caisson with memorial casket and wreath, drawn by eight black horses, with a military guard, will pass slowly under the arch, while the guns of the harbor’s forts boom out a 21-gun salute.”

A wartime service at Columbus Circle

Before the Trump International Hotel and the Time Warner Center, Columbus Circle was a not-glitzy gathering place for Italian-American rallies and parades. This photo was taken in 1943. On Columbus Day of that year, The New York Times wrote:

“Because of the war and especially because Italy, the native land of Christopher Columbus, discoverer of America, is suffering such a tragic fate, the celebration tomorrow and Tuesday of Columbus Day will be more spiritual in character than ever before in the history of the United States.”

On Columbus Day the previous year, 25,000 Italian-Americans came out to show their support for the Allies, and Mayor LaGuardia gave a speech praising their loyalty and urging tolerance of minorities, as Americans of Italian decent were considered back then.

A Park Slope church’s memorial porch lamps

All Saints Episcopal Church, on Seventh Street and Seventh Avenue, looks like a typical city church—a beautiful gothic structure with lovely matching porch lamps welcoming visitors on either side of the front steps. 

But the lamps have deeper significance. They honor Sgt. Stewart W. Oberle, killed by hostile fire in Vietnam on June 30, 1969. He was just 22. His family dedicated the lamps later that year in his memory. 

“Brooklyn’s Home Hotel”

In October 1902, the owners of this grand new structure in recently developed Crown Heights took out several ads in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, informing the public that “the word ‘hotel’ has a new meaning.” The copy seems very sincere. “Perhaps you have not associated the two ideas of ‘hotel’ and ‘home.’ In the St. Marks, the two are synonymous.”

The neighborhood around Bedford, St. Marks, and Rogers Avenues still has its share of gorgeous old buildings. The Imperial, a Montrose Morris–designed apartment house, is nearby; also close is Grant Square, which features a giant bronze sculpture of our 18th president on horseback. 

The St. Marks Hotel of Brooklyn, alas, is no longer. I couldn’t find any background covering the year it bit the dust, but it appears that this building is in its place.

Brooklyn’s little drummer boy

In 1860, 11-year-old Brooklyn kid Clarence D. McKenzie joined the 13th Regiment of the New York State Militia as a drummer boy; his job was to drum different signals to help troops communicate on the battlefield.

In June 1861 his unit took a steamer to Annapolis, but before he saw combat there he was accidentally shot and killed by another member of his regiment. He was 12 years old and the first Brooklyn resident to die in the Civil War. Thousands attended his funeral, touched by “Brooklyn’s Boy Martyr” as the Brooklyn Daily Eagle called him.

Clarence was buried in Green-Wood Cemetery under a monument depicting a drummer boy that still stands today. Shortly after his death, his Fulton Street church published a book (digitized here) about what a heroic, god-fearing boy he was. I doubt an adventurous kid like Clarence would appreciate being portrayed as such a goody-two-shoes, but it’s an interesting piece of historical ephemera.

Brooklyn’s drummer boy hasn’t been forgotten: Kensington’s PS 230 was renamed the Clarence D. McKenzie school back in March.