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The Spell of the El (New York City)
NY Times ^ | May 1, 2005 | SEWELL CHAN

Posted on 05/03/2005 2:37:05 PM PDT by neverdem

Librado Romero/The New York Times

In Inwood, in Upper Manhattan, the streets are defined by the overhead rumble of the Nos. 1 and 9.

THE end came abruptly on Third Avenue. Just after 6 p.m. on May 12, 1955, the last elevated uptown train rolled out of Chatham Square, in Chinatown, bound for the Bronx and then for incineration.

Subway ridership had declined steadily after peaking at 2.1 billion in 1947. Elevated railways, at least in Manhattan, were seen as a thing of the past. So down they went: Sixth Avenue in 1938, Ninth Avenue in 1940 and Second Avenue in 1942. Now the last of the borough's four lines, above Third Avenue, was fated for obsolescence.

Who would want to save it? The Third Avenue el, rusty and screeching, was seen as producing little but blight. Shopkeepers and city officials wanted to widen, brighten and repave the thoroughfare below. The goal was a "model city highway," as the Manhattan borough president, Hulan E. Jack, called it, a Third Avenue version of the new interstate expressways. And so Manhattan bade farewell to its last fully elevated train line.

"It was melancholy and sort of sad," said Lothar Stelter, 74, of Kew Gardens Hills, Queens, who was a 24-year-old telephone cable splicer when he boarded the final train that day in May. "People emerged from saloons and bars and, raising their glasses, saluted as the train went by," he said. Others tried to stop it. "The police had to cut the train's rip cords because everyone was pulling the emergency brake to prolong the last ride, or the agony," Mr. Stelter said.

Within three months, the city would begin to raze the structure, and whatever relics the souvenir hunters spared were burned or sold for scrap. (The Bronx portion of the line stayed open until 1973, when it was "replaced," the Metropolitan Transportation Authority says, by the Bx55 bus.)

Two days after the el's last run, a half-century ago this month, The New York Times mourned the event in an editorial, asking if the subway itself would become obsolete. "Will we or our successors cry when this happens? Who knows? But meanwhile, farewell, 'El,' a long, long, long farewell."

Yet despite this and other death knells, the el is far from gone. It rumbles over the streets of Inwood in Upper Manhattan, in University Heights and Pelham Bay in the Bronx, in Bensonhurst and Bushwick in Brooklyn, in Middle Village and Woodside in Queens. It takes riders and pleasure-seekers to the subway system's farthest reaches: Van Cortlandt Park, Coney Island, the Rockaways. And it tests the energy and creativity of hundreds of workers who monitor 168 track miles of elevated ironwork, more than one-fifth of the total. (Other trains, those that run in trenches, on embankments, or along viaducts, are classified differently by the M.T.A.)

A look at one particular stretch of the el, and the life lived along it - the shop owners who conduct business beneath it, the passengers who ride it, the transit workers who tend it, and the people who live nearby and have come to know its clack and clatter intimately - reveals how much this urban survivor continues to be threaded through the city's life. For those who use it, live and work near it, or keep it from falling apart, the el is neither a scourge upon the city nor a touchstone for nostalgia. It simply is.

Scaring Away the Pigeons

In Upper Manhattan, the el makes its first appearance as a subway rider travels north on the Nos. 1 and 9 lines for a 13-block stretch, from 122nd to 135th Streets along Broadway.

Just as quickly, the train dips underground again, then emerges into the light at Dyckman Street in Inwood. It then glides by Substation No. 17, a century-old red-brick electrical depot, its ornamental reliefs and wrought-iron roof brackets making it a neighborhood landmark.

The Dyckman Street station and three others to the north, at 207th, 215th and 225th Streets, along with the 125th Street stop, remain the last holdouts of the elevated subway in Manhattan, a paean to the four lines that were destroyed.

At Dyckman Street, the street-level station sits on a concrete island. Passengers and pigeons alike have no trouble entering. Hence the owl. The owl is a simple cut-out, an outline drawn on a sheet of shiny metallic plastic and suspended by a thread from the station ceiling. It works reasonably well as a scarecrow, but the black netting wrapped above the turnstiles helps.

"That's part of our pigeon-deterrence program," said Peggy Forest, a superintendent who oversees 52 subway stations, including the one at Dyckman Street. "The pigeons always used to land here."

Eggs, With a Side of Impatience

The portion of Tenth Avenue shaded by the el is far less vibrant than Broadway, a block to the west, but it is hardly desolate. The businesses along the streets in this heavily Dominican neighborhood have a unique rhythm, one governed by the frequency of the trains overhead.

Bijaru, a casual place near 215th Street that serves traditional Latin cuisine, enjoys a morning rush as busy as any subway car's. Residents dash into the store for a quick coffee or even plantains with rice and beans, and they do not linger.

Ringing up the orders are just the owner, Maria Conlon, and one relative.

"With some people waiting on line, you can see on their faces how frustrated they get when they hear the train," said Mrs. Conlon's grandson Alvin Pichardo, who frequently drops by. "What's the big deal? Why not wait until the next one comes?"

Mr. Pichardo, a student at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, has learned not to run after the train. "I've been late plenty of times," he said.

The Rain That Cleans

Ms. Forest, who oversees the Dyckman Street station, has been a manager since 1992. From her perspective, elevated stations are popular among station cleaners because people tend to want to do the least amount of work possible. Elevated stations are the easiest to clean, thanks to nature.

Wanda Robinson, one of Ms. Forest's deputies, welcomes wet weather. "When it rains, the rain actually helps to clear off the platforms," said Ms. Robinson, who oversees the station agents, supervisors and cleaners at 13 stations on the Nos. 1 and 9. "A lot of times, we have stains on the platform, like coffee spills. The rain won't do the job, but it sure helps."

Ms. Robinson has another theory to explain why transit workers prefer elevated stations. They like to observe the change in seasons, not to mention the changed behavior of riders, who are often more polite, and less hurried, than they are underground. "You see the people and the sunshine, and it helps your day," she said. "I enjoy being out in the open. It makes me happier."

Almost Like Flying

The other morning, Lindsey Jimenez carefully held her place in "Hamlet" (Act V, Scene II) as she rode the No. 1 train over the bridge from Manhattan to Marble Hill and reflected on her daily ride along the Harlem River. "I like to look at the water," she said.

Ms. Jimenez, who is a communications student at the College of Mount Saint Vincent in Riverdale, heads deep into the earth every morning, taking the elevator underground to the 181st Street stop, then, minutes later, re-emerging at Dyckman Street.

She enjoys the view as the train passes the brick public housing projects like Dyckman Houses and Marble Hill Houses, which these days look almost bucolic, framed by the first yellow-green leaves of spring. But, as is true for so many youngsters who grow up near the el, the view was even more thrilling when she was younger, especially the moment the train emerged into the sunlight. "You used to put your knees on the chair and look," she said. "All of the sudden you're outside. You look down and say, 'Oh, my God!' I guess it's like flying."

Speed's the Thing

The Broadway local is as popular among some train operators and conductors as it is among riders. "The No. 1 is a fast line," said Louis Brusati, a general superintendent who oversees rapid-transit operations on the Nos. 1, 2, 3, 7 and 9 lines. "It's level and flat. You just keep on going. It only gets muddled, if it gets muddled at all, at 96th Street. From 157th up to 168th, it's fast, and from 168th to 181st it's fast, even though you're going local."

Keeping the trains moving in poor weather is surprisingly easy. Snow generally falls through the gaps in the track. Only on some stretches does snow accumulate, and when it does, a sweeper train comes through and brushes off the snow with a metal extension known as a shoe. About the only thing a motorman needs to do differently is switch on the windshield wiper, although conductors would do well to bring their caps.

But now, summer is approaching, making the elevated line more appealing than ever. "It's a nice run if you're outside and it's a nice day," Mr. Brusati said.

Interrupting Columbo

Near 213th Street, Quisqueya Auto Sound churns along almost as noisily as the trains overhead. The shop is a popular hangout for young men, who go to get their convertibles and low-riders retrofitted with the latest and loudest car audio systems.

"I'm deaf - that's why I speak so loud," said Jaime Irizarry Jr., a 46-year-old trash collector who is a Quisqueya regular. Mr. Irizarry has spent much of his life amid loud noise: he grew up across the Harlem River, about two blocks from the tracks in Marble Hill, home to the 225th Street station.

"The problem is when you're watching television," he said. "Whenever I watched 'Columbo,' at the very best part, when Columbo was about to break the case, the train would pass by. It's murder on the ears. I should have learned how to read lips."

Moving to Brooklyn after his first marriage was like exiting a combat zone. "It took me a week to get used to it," he said. "The only noise there was the crickets."

Divorced, Mr. Irizarry is living in Marble Hill again, and has modulated his volume accordingly. "My girlfriend always asks me why I'm screaming," he said, a bit loudly. "Every time we speak, she thinks I'm arguing. I can't talk low, even on the phone."

Men of Iron

If water is a boon for cleaners and a diversion for motormen, it is the enemy for the ironworkers and engineers charged with maintaining the els.

Elevated train structures are made up of a series of bents, as they are called, each consisting of two columns supporting a crossbeam. Resting on the bents are upright beams, or girders, to which track platforms and tracks are attached. The structure is supported and stabilized by a seemingly infinite array of X-shaped braces.

"We have four gangs of ironworkers that climb all over these on an annual basis," said John Ferrelli, the director of infrastructure engineering in the agency's track division. "They're dedicated full time, year round. All they do is inspect these structures."

The iron beams seem alive, expanding in the heat and contracting in the cold.

"The difference between summer and winter weather can be three-quarters of an inch at the expansion girders," said John Ponessa, an iron-fabrication superintendent, pointing to a set of beams that give the bents space to breathe.

The 198 ironworkers employed by New York City Transit, unlike their counterparts in the construction industry, spend their time not putting up new steel, but repairing and replacing existing parts, some of them decades old.

"The vast majority of the city's elevated structures are original," Mr. Ponessa said, pointing to the round rivets in a column supporting the track near Dyckman Street. Such rivets were phased out long ago, in favor of high-strength bolts. But there they remain, right at eye level.

When elevated structures need repairs, ironworkers set up scaffolding directly under the tracks. "We're working on something that's got active trains on it, 24/7," said Frank Gaetano, who oversees 700 masons, carpenters, tinsmiths, plumbers and ironworkers.

Mr. Gaetano grew up in Riverdale, the Bronx, and loved watching the trains glide into the train yard at 240th Street, not far from his home. When he thinks about underground trains, he uses words like dirty, grimy, claustrophobic. Elevated structures are easier to maintain, he says. "Manhattan could still use them," Mr. Gaetano said.

Safe Up Above

Despite the Third Avenue el's reputation for fostering blight, els in the city have had a safe operating record. Neither of the largest disasters in the subway system's history -- Malbone Street in Flatbush, Brooklyn, where nearly 100 died in 1918, and the Times Square wreck that killed 16 in 1928 -- occurred above ground.

But in the 1970's and 80's, money to keep the system going was in such short supply that even deteriorated columns went unrepaired. John Carter, a retired transit official, will not forget the morning of May 29, 1986, when water gushed down the street near the Gates Avenue station on the J line in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn.

"I got a phone call in the middle of the night," he said. "There was a water-main break underneath the structure. The foundation of the column had washed out from underneath it. When a train went by, the column sank 18 inches here. When I got there, they were still running the trains, and I'm telling you, I was never more scared in my life." The trains were stopped and no one was hurt. The structure was repaired, and the line reopened three days later.

That Canary Can Be a Monster

In a neighborhood like Inwood, the el is often entwined with stories of immigration and assimilation, sometimes in odd and unexpected ways. It played such a role for Isaac Morillo, a 28-year-old barber who does double time where the el travels over Nagle Avenue. He lives almost right next to it, on West 204th Street, and works directly under it, a block and a half down on the avenue, at Rudy's Barber Shop.

Four years ago, when Mr. Morillo moved to the neighborhood from the Dominican city La Vega, the train's sonorous presence surprised him. "In La Vega, we only get that kind of ruckus when it's Carnaval," he said, standing at the first chair in the shop.

He has gotten used to what happens when the train arrives, the way the barbershop vibrates, the way phone conversations are momentarily interrupted, the way the glass shelves rattle. It is when he leaves the neighborhood that things feel peculiar. "It's too strange not to hear the train," he said. "The sound is addictive. It's burned into your mind. When you're asleep, and 20 minutes pass and there's no train, you wake up."

If the silence lasts too long, the train starts to function like a canary in a coal mine, speaking volumes with its absence. Mr. Morillo never needs the radio to tell him something is wrong with train service, and he remembers the eerie quiet that followed the attack on the World Trade Center.

At work one recent morning, he picked up a ringing telephone and announced into the receiver, "Dímelo, monstruo!" - "Talk to me, you monster!" It was his brother, Oliver, calling from the Dominican Republic. Just as the two began a conversation, a subway rumbled by overhead. "That damn train," said Oliver, who recognized the cacophony at the other end of the line even though he has never been to New York.

Seth Kugel contributed reporting for this article.


TOPICS: Extended News; Government; News/Current Events; US: New York
KEYWORDS: newyorkcity; newyorkcitytransit; subways
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Sam Falk/The New York Times
When the Manhattan stretch of the Third Avenue el was dismantled a half-century ago, it was already considered a relic.

Ernest Sisto/The New York Times
The el overshadows Bowery in 1954 before the track was destroyed.

The New York Times

The Manhattan borough president, Hulan E. Jack, applies a torch to the el structure as demolition work started in 1955.

New York Historical Society
The El was formally opened in 1878 to admiring cries from the multitudes. This view shows the Forty-second Street spur of the El, looking west from Third Ave.

Librado Romero/The New York Times
From the elevated, a bird's-eye view of Broadway in Kingsbridge, the Bronx.

Librado Romero/The New York Times
In Inwood, in Upper Manhattan, the streets are defined by the overhead rumble of the Nos. 1 and 9.

Librado Romero/The New York Times
Transit supervisors like Frank Gaetano, left, and John Ponessa oversee special crews of ironworkers and engineers who maintain the aging elevated structure.

The portion of Tenth Avenue shaded by the el is far less vibrant than Broadway, a block to the west, but it is hardly desolate.

That's true at 215th Street. Broadway is four blocks to the west at the Dyckman Street station. If Dyckman Street didn't have a name, it would be called 200th Street. There's a Dyckman House at 204th Street and Broadway that goes back to the Revolutionary War. I grew up in this Inwood, as opposed to the one in Nassau County. In the parts of the city with a layout like a grid, approximately 20 blocks equal a mile.

1 posted on 05/03/2005 2:37:14 PM PDT by neverdem
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To: cyborg; Clemenza; Cacique; NYCVirago; The Mayor; Darksheare; hellinahandcart; Chode; ...

FReepmail me if you want on or off my New York ping list.


2 posted on 05/03/2005 2:38:50 PM PDT by neverdem (May you be in heaven a half hour before the devil knows that you're dead.)
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To: neverdem

I remember when they tore down the Third Avenue El. My family's Christmas card that year read like this:

Why is what we'r wishign you a joyous one of like third Avenue?

Noel.


3 posted on 05/03/2005 2:40:29 PM PDT by TBP
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To: neverdem

I remember when they tore down the Third Avenue El. My family's Christmas card that year read like this:

Why is what we're wishing you a joyous one of like third Avenue?

Noel.


4 posted on 05/03/2005 2:40:44 PM PDT by TBP
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To: neverdem

As an old New Yorker (I miss the place), this was a fascinating article. And great pictures.


5 posted on 05/03/2005 2:41:46 PM PDT by TBP
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To: neverdem

My wife was temporarily assigned to New York City back in July/August of 2001. She went around to a bunch of different places and one of them was the subway museum. She brought back a tape that is about the history of the subway system. It’s pretty interesting.


6 posted on 05/03/2005 2:51:07 PM PDT by Who dat?
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To: TBP

It's unfortunate that you can never go back


7 posted on 05/03/2005 2:52:57 PM PDT by wrathof59 ("to the Everlasting Glory of the Infantry".........Robert A Heinlein)
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To: neverdem

Ever notice how New Yorkers care more about buildings and infrastructure than about people?

After 9/11 while the rest of the country was mourning incinerated secretaries and crushed firemen, New Yorkers were whining about the hole in the sky line.

I'm sure I'm going to get flamed for this, but virtually everyone else east of the great lakes noticed this about NYC residents in the months after.


8 posted on 05/03/2005 3:09:28 PM PDT by konaice
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To: konaice
Ever notice how New Yorkers care more about buildings and infrastructure than about people?

Even though I'm in the Bronx, I feel like a target.

NYC's location made it so attractive for investing in that infrastructure. The city itself is more like a collection neighborhoods, aka small towns, once you're out of midtown and the busines district of Manhattan.

9 posted on 05/03/2005 3:23:57 PM PDT by neverdem (May you be in heaven a half hour before the devil knows that you're dead.)
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Comment #10 Removed by Moderator

To: neverdem

Does anyone know where the elevated subway shown in the French Connection (Gene Hackman 1971) is located ?


11 posted on 05/03/2005 3:27:27 PM PDT by rcocean (Copyright is theft and loved by Hollywood socialists)
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To: konaice
As a New Yorker living about two blocks from the World Trade Center, I went through a lot of pain on September 11th over both the people lost and the change to my neighborhood. I know that I feel guilty about this but I do miss the Towers.

They were a place I used to enjoy take for granted. The lose of life was horrific in comparison but imagine that someplace that you enjoy and assume will always be there suddenly isn't.

Before 9/11, I would have completely agreed with you. Buildings are just buildings. Having lived through it though is a very difficult thing. I should add that I was on a business trip to Dallas on 9/11 and so luckily I missed the horrors of the event.

Sorry, I will step down from my soapbox I just have a lot of mixed emotions about the whole event.
12 posted on 05/03/2005 3:29:42 PM PDT by DebNYC
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Comment #13 Removed by Moderator

To: neverdem

Great pix, neverdem. Another one here who used to live in NYC and misses it, even, sometimes, the subway. I remember once taking the number one line all the way to the end, at Van Cortland Park. At the terminal there, they have a sign that says "We Are Number One." Chauvanism, even among the subway lines. Personally, I'm an N/R fan myself.


14 posted on 05/03/2005 3:34:35 PM PDT by speedy
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To: rcocean

I would have to see the French Connection again.


15 posted on 05/03/2005 3:37:56 PM PDT by neverdem (May you be in heaven a half hour before the devil knows that you're dead.)
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To: rcocean
Does anyone know where the elevated subway shown in the French Connection (Gene Hackman 1971) is located ?

I believe it was in Queens but I'll have to check.

16 posted on 05/03/2005 3:45:22 PM PDT by saquin
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To: konaice
Ever notice how New Yorkers care more about buildings and infrastructure than about people?

After 9/11 while the rest of the country was mourning incinerated secretaries and crushed firemen, New Yorkers were whining about the hole in the sky line.

Huh? New Yorkers mourned both. I believe we mourned the people just as much if not more than out of towners did, especially since most New Yorkers knew, either directly or through friends of friends, of someone personally effected. I don't even live in NYC, I live in a small Long Island suburb, and I know of 3 people personally connected to me through friends or acquaintances who were killed. A neighbor's son-in-law was killed. There's a street 2 blocks away from my house renamed after a young firefighter who was killed. Chief Peter Ganci lived in my town and I see his family members in the supermarket.

Please don't make assumptions just because you heard a lot of people mourning the change in the skyline. The skyline was also dear to people's hearts and it was hard to deal with what happened to it. If the Empire State Building was destroyed while people were inside everyone in the country would mourn for the people lost but for months and years afterwards there would also be a lot of mourning for the loss of the building. It doesn't mean we don't care about the people.

17 posted on 05/03/2005 3:53:54 PM PDT by saquin
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To: neverdem

A friend of my father's had an apartment not far from one of the EL lines, I don't remember which one as I was too young to recall that info.
But I do recall Watching the thing go by outside, and watching things shake in the apartment, and watching people speek, and not being able to hear them.
*chuckle*


18 posted on 05/03/2005 3:55:03 PM PDT by Darksheare (There is a flaw in my surreality, it's totally unrealistic.)
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To: saquin
Does anyone know where the elevated subway shown in the French Connection (Gene Hackman 1971) is located ?

After searching the web a little, it looks like it was actually in Brooklyn.

Probably no other line in the New York City Transit System is as well known as the West End line (save for the #6 in The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3). The West End was used in a major chase scene of the movie The French Connection in 1971 as a car chases the train overhead from Bay 50th nearly all the way to the 60th Street side of the 62nd St. Station.

BMT West End Line

19 posted on 05/03/2005 4:00:19 PM PDT by saquin
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To: konaice

If you only knew how the comment you've made shows your willingness to be a hurtful DUNDERHEAD,...well , I feel like I'm wasting my time,nevermind


20 posted on 05/03/2005 4:12:20 PM PDT by Dad yer funny
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