Not-a-New-Yorker Muses on The Big Apple

Notes from Margo:

They are built like sacred spaces, soaring structures intended to awe us -- the acres of marble, the grander-than-human scale, the arches echoing the architecture of Rome or medieval Europe. While we were in New York, I visited, briefly or not-so-briefly, the Main Public Library, the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Grand Central Station. All are massive public spaces – monuments to monumentality.

In Grand Central Station, tourists like me took photos of the refurbished zodiac formations on the enormous vaulted ceiling. At the Met, some people soaked up the art, and others just gawked at the grand stairway, the huge lobby and the gigantic balconies and archways leading to the galleries. At the library, the famous lions guard the way to the lobby (at left) that makes you feel worshipful as you enter the House of Books, even though it doesn't really house books anymore. (I was entranced by an exhibit of maps of New York, ranging from Henry Hudson's map of the river in 1609 to this year's google maps.)

Aside from the people like me being awed by their monumentality, all those places were crowded in their everyday usage by hundreds, if not thousands, of people. It made me think how lucky all those urbanites are who rush through the station every day, not through some ugly, dirty, gray, utilitarian warehouse of train tracks and platforms, but through a massive work of art. They probably don't stop every day to wonder at it, but in some recess of their subconscious, they know that they are part-owners of a cathedral of commuters or a landmark of bookishness.

It seems clear that the cultural landscape of New York allows for maintaining those awesome public spaces. It seems a bit against the grain of where we keep reading our culture is headed – each person caring only for him- or herself or his or her own family/crew/tribe, people creating and living in their own private landscape, writing their own blogs (like us!), without much interest in common spaces or the common good. New York may be evidence to the contrary. We noticed also that the less monumental public arena – the streets, the sidewalks, the subways – seemed cleaner and more civilized than we remember them from 10 or 15 years ago. No graffiti, very little litter, and – my favorite development – the subway stations, their staircases and walking tunnels no longer reek of urine. The buses and subway cars are clean. Times Square is now devoid of porn shops, adult video stores and hookers. Parks seem safe and well-maintained. Lynn is pretty sure even the level of horn-honking is down, too.

That said, the noise level is still deafening. I think people who live there just stop noticing it. But for someone like me who just shows up once in a while, the noise is like a big dark pervasive cloud. Lynn has difficulty hearing over background noise, which is commonplace among older people. So his cell phone was useless on the street. He couldn't hear the ring, and he couldn't hear anything through the earpiece. When we resurfaced in Jersey City, after the subway ride on the PATH train, the first reaction is: "Wow! It sure is quiet here!" And that's just across the river. I'm not sure what the deal is. I'm wondering if it's that perfectly normal traffic noises get amplified by the hard surfaces of the canyons of high-rises. Maybe sound waves bounce back and forth indefinitely, instead of dissipating into the distance.

Anyway, we thoroughly enjoyed our time in New York, visiting with friends and seeing the sights. We then took a day in Dover, Delaware, where Lynn did some research in the state archives for his book on a double murder there in 1898. (At right is the house where the victims lived and died. It has been remodeled into offices for a state agency.)

While there, we joined a walking tour of "The Green" in historic downtown Dover. Our leader was Abby Wilson, a young woman (probably in her early 20s), in colonial garb – a white cotton covering on her hair and a thick green wool cape. She was so animated and excited by colonial Dover that we got caught up in her stories. She was interested in everything about historical Dover, historical Delaware, taverns in colonial life, women in colonial society, the suffrage movement, the abolitionists. The tour included a few comments on the "Poison Candy Murders," which is the Delaware end of Lynn's research subject. As she pointed out, it was the first interstate murder case to be prosecuted. One issue was whether it should be prosecuted in Dover, where the poisoned candies were eaten and the victims died, or in San Francisco, where the perpetrator mailed the chocolates. As it turned out, the trial took place in San Francisco. Anyway, it was lovely to see someone so young to be so caught up in old stories.

We're now in Washington, D.C., where our friends Alex Neill and Tibby Speer seem to have remodeled their basement into a guest apartment in preparation for our arrival. To show appreciation for the comfort here, Lynn has developed a little fever and a cough, and is taking a few days to rest up while I see the sights.

Mileage from Pleasant Valley, New York, to Dover, Delaware, and D.C.: 343

Mileage so far: 7550