Anatomy of an AERIAL VIEW

 

Today we examine a photograph that's a souvenir of the Curtiss-Wright Flying Service's photo division, entitled Grand Central district. Although Grand Central itself is hidden from view, the picture is clearly that of Midtown Manhattan.

To begin with, here is the steam plant that ran for three blocks between the river and First Avenue. Its sign (center right) reads New York Edison Company. All eight smokestacks are hard at work.     

Moving to the center of the photo, there are two buildings under construction: the Chrysler building and just below it, the Daily News building. From the progress of the construction, the photo dates to 1929.

A look at No. 5.

The Woodstock, No. 25 and No. 45.

Finally, a look at what lay immediately north of Tudor City in 1929.

"A VIGOROUS LIFE," Part Two

Again, a return to A Vigorous Life, the joint effort of Fred and John French at an autobiographical biography. Today's focus is on pictures of Fred French at work.

Young Fred French

First, however, a picture of a very young Fred French, his taste in apparel quite similar to that of one of his heros, Theodore Roosevelt. This photo was a souvenir of a celebrated trip to Alaska, following the same trail that Roosevelt did. His rifle and hunting clothes were identical with Teddy's.

The Horace Mann football team in 1901. French standing, third from left.

The earliest picture of French in the book is this shot of his high school football team, which would prove to be exactly how French liked to be seen, in the company of a group. The only difference was, as the years went by, his seating shifted to the place of honor.  

A portrait of the company sales team. French is seated, center.

This is one of many such pictures that were made to commemorate the team.

 A celebratory dinner honoring the company's sales team, held in French's home. He's seated at the head of the table.

There is no respite from business, not even at home. Our earlier post on A Vigorous Life here.

Instagramable You

A salute to five Instagramers who did all the work for us this week.  

by jauntyhauntspod                    

by bencrocker.studio                     

by jim_cappelletti                     

by gettinviggy                    

by jstrocole                     

MISCELLANY

Hello and welcome to this edition of miscellany. This manipulated photograph by our good friend Garth Justice is entitled "The Lantern."

⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺

A screen shot from The Tick, showing the title character holding onto a bus for dear life so that the passengers have enough time to scramble off.  (Their bus has crashed through the barrier on Tudor City Bridge and hovers 50 feet in the air above 42nd Street.) More on this, here. 

In our opinion, the best use of special effects in Tudor City to date. Streaming on Amazon Prime.

⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺

42nd Street, around 1937. You can actually make out the Tudor City sign in the distance. 

⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺

Finally, there is a graffiti problem once again, with No. 45, No. 25 and the Tudor City Bridge all tagged by the same person, "Zoot." Though none of these tags can be seen when you walk down Tudor City Place, they are there. Facing a New York City icon, the Secretariat of the United Nations, to boot.

No. 45

 

No. 25

Tudor City Bridge

TUDOR CITY, circa 1940

A couple of months ago, we came upon a collaboration of the Works Progress Administration and the New York City Tax Department, a photographic record of all the buildings of the five boroughs in 1940. Although its purpose was quickly forgotten, the indecipherable numbers remain in every picture.

Here are all the buildings that were part of the original Tudor City. Though some got short shrift ‒ hello No. 25 ‒ all were recorded. 

No. 45, Prospect Tower

The Cloister and The Manor

The Hermitage

No. 25, Tudor Tower and No. 5, Windsor Tower

No. 5, Windsor Tower

The 3-Hs: Haddon Hall, Hardwicke Hall and Hatfield House 

Hotel Tudor and Essex House

Hotel Tudor

The Woodstock

The BEAUX-ARTS APARTMENTS

307 E. 44th Street

Today, we travel one block north to profile the Beaux-Arts Apartments. The story begins in 1928, when the Beaux-Arts Society buys a piece of land on East 44th Street to build a new clubhouse. This was at a time when Beaux-Arts architecture was having a renaissance.

Soon enough, a number of prominent members of the club banded together and bought the land for two apartment buildings, adjacent to the newly built clubhouse. The overall plan was to buy the rest of the block and create a Beaux-Arts colony, but timing was against them. They began building just in time for the stock market crash of 1929.

They opened in January, 1930. Among the many architects assisting, Raymond Hood and Kenneth Murchison were credited for overall design. Hood was the better-known of the pair, having the Daily News building, the American Radiator building and the McGraw-Hill building to his credit.

The result was two buildings at 307 and 310 E. 44th Street (the latter sharing a back wall with The Cloister). Comprised of buff, red and black brick with a limestone-and-chrome base, it offered 648 units that were primarily studios, measuring 13 by 22 feet. 

The floors were cork, kitchens were small, and the two twin beds folded up into the walls. At the top of the building were duplexes, with double-height rooms.

Marketing the complex was straightforward. Prospective tenants were told to Venez Ici (Come Here) for a "continental atmosphere" to living via "really modern apartments." Even though the tiny kitchens had no provisions for cooking, a call to Cafe Bonaparte for room service "makes life easy." And the gendarme at the front door ‒ a costumed doorman ‒ made the whole thing fun. 

In the end, the complex's ill-timed opening actually worked in its favor; the idea of taking smaller quarters was already in the air. The Beaux-Arts Apartments fit the times.    

  

To conclude, a photograph taken further down the block about ten years later. This shows the Unique Garage, Tudor City's official garage, reached by tunnel to 43rd Street. In the background are the Beaux-Arts Apartments, named city landmarks in 1988.

Even More NEW YORKER Ads

 

Four New Yorker covers, 1928

Hello there, fans of The New Yorker and Tudor City. Time for another installment of the magazine's ads for the colony; these all ran in 1928, Tudor City's first year of operation. The artwork for this ad campaign had absolutely nothing to do with Tudor City, and as for the copy, it exists for New Yorker readers to enjoy it.  

⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺ 

  

Beware Traffic Cops

This speed was simply dizzying. It was bad enough, thought Mr. Bloomfield, when you didn't have to go downhill. Why, in any of these towns, he might get a summons. He feared that the traffic cops were learning to watch for him lately. Mike had been quite cold to him going through Flushing the other morning.

And then. . . disgrace. He could hear Patch, the general manager. . . "We regret, Mr. Bloomfield, that the circumstances. . . an old conservative firm such as ours. . . I am sure you will understand."

Bertha had been against this bicycling from the beginning. How right she was. He could still hear her plaintive words, "Oh Ned, if we only lived where you could walk."

And why not? From Tudor City you can walk wherever you want to go. High, quiet and airy on the East River Front, Tudor City is just four minutes from Grand Central. An independent community with its own shops, restaurant, garage, parks, even a miniature golf course. A variety of apartments at reasonable rentals.

⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺

Clattering Caravans

Rocking along on stilts ‒ clinging desperately to his mount as the hard, slippery seat careens beneath him. . . swaying to the rough, uneasy motion. . . Mr. Buntling rides the "L."

Perhaps the novelty, the adventure that drew him to the outlandish means of travel has worn off. Perhaps the "L" wasn't so bad when he was younger. But whatever the cause, Mr. Buntling is not a happy man. Traffic below crawls, snail-like; mournfully he views the years ahead.

Still, it is not too late. There is a haven for the Mr. Buntlings, where they can march afoot to storm the citadels of finance. No overland journey, no storms at sea. Tudor City ‒ an independent community on the East River Front, just four minutes' walk from Grand Central. High, quiet and airy, with shops, restaurant, park, miniature golf course, everything ingenuity could devise to make life pleasanter. And assorted apartments at reasonable rentals.     

⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺

Heavy Going. . .

The trail was in horrible condition. Stumbling, panting, his rickshaw boys ran on. Tooting to warn the local fauna, they swung at dizzying speed around the tangled roots of subway excavation. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. Down a long, clear stretch, rocking and creaking. And then. . . snagged on a traffic light, while the sahib blistered the already tropical air.

No way to treat nerves. . . specially those of a high powered executive. Taxi-ing to work might be quick, but it certainly was the equivalent of a full day's work in nervous strain. He would make the office in time to phone his broker, but Zounds! What good would it do him. . . in this condition. Poor Mr. Spitkin.

He's cured now. The doctor prescribed air and exercise. And quiet. He lives in Tudor City and walks to the office, sedately, with contemplative eyes. He sits in the park, or putts about the miniature golf course. A quiet, independent community on the East River Front, with its own parks, restaurants, shops and reasonable rentals.    

⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺

Paul and Virginia Took the 5:17

It was the last time. Not the first, but the last. For it seems that Virginia liked her new clothes. While Paul had never liked the 5:17. They always seemed to reach Moorland-by-the-Fells just in time to meet Jupiter Phoenix. There were five taxis in Moorland-by-the-Fells. And 500 inhabitants who commuted.

The rest of the story is brief and simple. Virginia said no tree was worth it. Paul knew where there was a tree in New York. Several, in fact, with lawns, fountains, rustic seats, even a miniature golf course. So they live in Tudor City, forever free of the 5:17. Just four minutes from Grand Central, within walking distance of almost everything. An independent community with restaurants and coffee house, laundry, valet and maid service, garage, medical nursing bureau and a supervised playground for the children. A variety of apartments at reasonable rentals.

‒‒‒‒‒⸺⸺

For those interested, some earlier posts about The New Yorker, here and here and here.