Nice letter. I commented not long ago on my former building in the Bronx. It was in the Bronx, astride a line between the Old Yankee Stadium and the Polo Grounds, where the ghost of John J. McGraw made occasional appearances in the late innings, especially against Brooklyn. It was possible to walk from the Bronx, just east of the Harlem river across a footbridge ending near the Polo Grounds. Attendance was picking up in the wake of WW-II and the league expansion (ill- advised then, as now) was but a distant cloud to the west. Fans went to the "park" because live telecasts were not yet practicable, thankfully. I remember Thompson's 1953 home run for which I used the "mind's eye" technology then available, and a radio with a tinny (and tiny) speaker, to project myself to a box just behind the Giant dugout. What an ending!!
3
Thompson's homer. That tragedy occurred in 1951.
I was in the market for small co-op in Manhattan and when I got off the A train at 181st Street I was suddenly in the Twilight Zone episode A Stop in Willoughby. Leaving the tumult of mid town, I walked through Bennett Park to see old folks playing chess, young mothers with baby strollers, bouncy young puppies playing on the green --- I was back in mid 50's Washington Heights' J. Hood Wright Park where I grew up. So, I bought a nice little place on Cabrini Boulevard and walk all over the City, from the Cloisters to Chinatown (a short subway ride away). A lovely, lovely surprising place. I even went to a movie at Loew's 175th Street (now, United Palace) last week.
8
Inwood was my old hood......and my visit down memory lane last year was everything I wanted from walking familiar routes to taking photos of my childhood apt windows to meandering in Inwood Hill Park with a childhood buddy, Freda Share Carter.....wish I could attach some pix! Nothing replaces those early memories with a lifelong friend.....
10
I think that in the "Twilight Zone" version of this story, Mr. Marshall knocks on the door, which at length is opened by his younger self. . .(cue the eerie theme music: daDAdaDAdaDAdaDA).
23
I share your appreciation for Fort Tryon Park. We have relatives that live adjacent to the park and visit it often. Great place for the kids to run, hide, play ball and just generally enjoy themselves. And a great view of the Hudson and the GWB. Plus, don't forget the Cloisters, a great museum for days when it might not be so pleasant to be outside.
10
what did your dad say when he answered the door?
9
Old York New York - It's a Helluva Town...!!!
9
let us have more of these place attachment stories when "visiting" and "sites" are now most likely to be virtual, and tiresomely so.
thanks
thanks
8
Hahahahaha! Wow!
5
This left me wanting more- did you knock on the door? If so, what happened? I went back to my childhood home once- noticed that the windows were open and no one was home. I leaned toward the window and drew in a sniff- the house still smelled like home to me -- moth balls and Irish Spring soap. This story made me smile, and I like that.
21
"...you're traveling to another dimension, not only of sight and sound, but of mind....."
i can only hope the first mrs. marshall wasn't behind the door.
i can only hope the first mrs. marshall wasn't behind the door.
23
Great story. I lived in that neighborhood for four years on Cabrini Boulevard and my wife and son and I really enjoyed the park. There is something uniquely timeless about that neighborhood. Many people moved there from Europe in the 1930's as refugees and it was called "Hamburg on the Hudson" for a while. Lots of artists and families around and a really distinct welcoming atmosphere that embraces all generations and origins.Your anecdote fits so well with my memories of this New York enclave that still exists. I miss it.
16
What do you know? It was Frankfurt on the Hudson and you ought to know that. They were all from southern Germany, not Hamburg, for the very most part.
1
OK, so i guess when they had a barbecue in Fort Tryon Park in those days they grilled hot dogs instead of burgers.
4
I've been away from the City for almost three years now, tending to family down here where I'm from, but (mirabile dictu!) I'll be returning in August. The silver lining, however—and a truly serendipitous thing, too—is that I met my girlfriend down here; she moved six months later to New York to attend graduate school at Columbia. Life can be so very strange.
When she moved up there, it was to Washington Heights—natural enough, since the Mailman School of Public Health at Columbia is at New-York Presbyterian, up at 168th Street. I've managed to visit at least every six weeks, and I've fallen for the neighborhood. The ever-present views of the river and the Palisades are especially nice. I had always lived in the much denser, more hectic quarters (and hectic is not a nasty word to me; I love the bustle) of points south in Manhattan, either in Hell's Kitchen or Little Italy, but the close access to Fort Tryon Park and Inwood Hill Park—where one truly feels a sense of tranquility—is wonderful to have. A true luxury.
Alas, new work arrangements mean we'll be moving either to Yorkville or Spanish Harlem, but I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for the Heights—or what I like to call Santo Domingo del Norte.