Feb
29
2004

lost destinations

Riding the subway back from City Hall, I noticed that the train passed what appeared to be one of the New York subway system's fabled "ghost stations" -- subway stations that, for whatever reason, have been shut down and closed to the public. I glimpsed the station, dark and grafitti-tagged, only fleetingly before my subway car passed it by. When we got back to Jesse's apartment, Rob and I did a bit of reading about these lost stations.

The site Forgotten NY has a fascinating section about the New York subway, from abandoned stations to outdated signage, and includes some great pictures of the ornate former City Hall station. Joseph Brennan's Abandoned Stations site offers dense, informative write-ups about abandoned stations, platforms, levels and the like.

To be honest, I'm not a huge fan of the New York City subway system. It's dirty, unpolished (compared to the far more sanitized Washington, DC system, at least) and confusing to navigate. Plus, it's painfully hot and humid during the summer months. But, all the same, I find the New York subway fascinating because of its sense of history and culture, from the abandoned stations and doorways to nowhere to the social stratifications on the various subway lines.

In some ways, the same holds true of my opinion of New York. It's crowded, compressed and I don't think I could ever live there and maintain my sanity. Yet the city has this rich history and culture -- visible and invisible -- that endlessly intrigue me. Last night, Jesse led Rob and I away from the tourist hubub of Battery Park and into the nearby financial district, where, in the shadow of an enormous highrise, the archaeological remnants of a 19th century tavern -- foundation and cistern -- were on permanent display, embedded in the sidewalk.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. What of today's New York will still be around -- a subject of archeological and anthropological study -- in a hundred years? And will people notice and consider it, or blindly fly by, wrapped up in the present?

Posted at 3:15 AM in culture, travel

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1 Comment

Online magazine The Morning News featured an editorial last year comparing the New York and DC subway systems and arguing that the cities' respective subways are emblematic of the cities themselves. ("What Lies Beneath" - 02/25/03)

For me, there’s nothing quite like waiting for the A train at the 59th Street station in late July; the concentrated ooze that has spent all year collecting between the rails, giving nourishment to rats the size of footballs – it’s positively gut-wrenching. And yet it is also the unfiltered odor of the urban environment; blind and dumb, I’d have no problem knowing I was in New York once I made it to the train station. The Metro, on the other hand, is like a freshly showered body: odorless, until I take a deep breath and notice the faintest hint of soap – or, in the subway’s case, recycled air. It’s pleasant, yet disturbing, at least to a New Yorker. Nothing in the public realm should be this clean. It’s unnatural, and it gives the entire city an anodyne sheen.

(Thanks to Rob for the link.)

By alykat | March 1, 2004 7:05 PM | Reply

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