Last day in NYC!
We had packed up and left our bags at checkout to squeeze in one more diner and one more tour before the end of the trip.
Applejack Diner first...
And one more trip through the southwest corner of Central Park, to visit the pidgeons, mostly
One last architectural marvel near our destination, Alwyn Court
look at those awesome fire breathing salamanders!
no, LOOK! I need you to appreciate their awesomeness
This is French Renaissance style of Francis (as in King Francis I) whose personal symbol was the salamander. See the crowns over their heads? This has got to be the most embellished building in the city. It's NUTS. And I love it. So much to see.
Built between 1907 - 1909 it was always designed as an apartment building, but an apartment building for the ultra-rich before the Great Crash kind of rich.
Twelve floors: only two apartments on each floor, so that the majority of them boasted 14 rooms, 11 of which had windows, and five bathrooms, with elevators, parquet flooring, inidividual wine vaults, its own vaccum cleaning system, and millinery closets (the only way to store your gigantic Edwardian fashion hats, my dear.)
Some included billiard rooms and music conservatories, because we need the full layout of a Clue game here.
The largest apartment, though, put those little peons to shame. It boasted 32 rooms, and 1910 rent of $22k a year, or roughly $585 million a year in 2018.
The fact that you see window AC units should clue you in that this did not last.
By the Great Depression the building was vacant and subdivided into smaller apartments that a few more people could afford.
Its nearby neighbor is Carnegie Hall, which was our tour destination.
Carnegie Hall opened in 1891, back when it was simply called the Music Hall. It was almost in the middle of nowhere that year, so far uptown people laughed.
the original building prior to the towers being erected a few years later
And Carnegie went to the bank, buying up "cheap" parcels, ahead of the curve in real estate where he often resided. Andrew Carnegie, who lived in a one room cottage in Scotland before emigrating, had grown his fortune into untold wealth. And then, with his descendents set for lifetimes, at the age of 66, he started giving the rest away. All told, his charitable contributions are estimated to be 90% of his total wealth. (That 10% could set up your great-great-great grandchildren also says a lot.)
He gave $5,000,000 to the New York Public Library and thanks to his philanthropy opened another 2800 libraries around the country. And he gave the city of New York an incredible music hall.
Tchaikovsky directed a portion of the opening night on May 5, 1891 and he became the first of thousands of musicians to autograph his photo for the Hall. And more than once. The 1892 autographed photo resides in the museum.
The names of those who have performed here are legend. The number of those with live recordings from the Hall are a who's who. It boggles the mind.
Shockingly, it nearly met the wrecking ball in the 1950s.
Isaac Stern spearheaded the effort to save the Hall when a developer announced plans to erect a red skyscraper in its place. The general thinking was that the Hall was finished because of the imminent opening of Lincoln Center.
Stern had to convince Mayor Wagner that Carnegie Hall would not compete with Lincoln Center, but could instead be saved to serve as a national center for teaching music and the development of young artists. The 1956 Bard Act, which allowed New York City to protect buildings of “special character, or special historical or aesthetic interest or value,” and 1960 amendment by New York State Senator MacNeil Mitchell—championed by Stern—permitting the City to acquire such buildings by purchase or condemnation provided the legal means for Stern and his committee to spring into action. Read the full story here.
We'd been hearing a lot more sirens that morning as we roamed Central Park. One of the security people told us about the live explosive device found at CNN that morning.
Our tour guide was Jerry, who was clearly pissing one woman off with his very direct New York style at the start, but who clearly knew exactly what he was doing. The main hall was being set up for a recording session that would take place that night. The Union is very strict about not allowing photographs while any teamster is working, so it was going to be a toss up whether we would actually get to photograph the gem of the building on the tour. To say I was anxious about this would be an understatement.
Up and away to the Balcony!
Teamsters still going on the stage, no photos!
Down at the Dress Circle, we were allowed to photograph behind us, but not forward
The halls are lined with the photographs, most autographed to Carnegie Hall, but many others to John Totten. Fun story. John started as an usher in 1903 working his way up to house manager in the 20s until 1968. For almost 50 years, he had acquired the autographed photo from each performer to Carnegie Hall. And he had secretly asked they sign a second, autographed to him. And amazing, for 50 years, everyone kept the secret. After his death a few other workers must have been in on it, because the rumor had stuck around. It wasn't until the later 1980s that any real effort to archive and preserve Carnegie memorabilia materialized. (This was the most shocking thing I heard.)
Mr. Francesconi, who himself started as an usher and who unearthed a trove of old programs in an air vent to start the preservation movement in 1986, went on the hunt for the whispered "second set." In the years that the Hall was in danger of being demolished, hundreds of the Carnegie photographs had been removed and never returned. When he tracked down the family of Mr. Totten, 200 of the autographs that had disappeared had been duplicated in the Totten collection. (His total collection of duplicates had approached 1000. I asked this on the tour, but Jerry wasn't sure. So I turned to Google after the fact.) It's 1000, Jerry.
Jerry letting us peek into the center prime seat box, complete with a second door. When you dressed to the nines and everyone would be seeing you in your box, you needed an area with a mirror and a hook for your coat before emerging. These usually are not unlocked, but with today's set up for recording, this one had been propped to keep from locking.
We were toward the end of the tour, having worked our way down to the floor and as Jerry was talking, the last teamster left the stage and closed the door. It was lunch break. About half of us raised our hands to interrupt him. "Can we take pictures NOW?"
He looked around nonchalantly, like a man who is here everyday and doesn't consider the fact that most of the people he's leading around are going to have exactly one opportunity to take a photo.
"Oh, yes, if they're all gone, go ahead."
Renowned violinist, Isaac Stern, one of the saviors of the Hall, is immortalized just outside the main hall, which now bears his name. It is called the Isaac Stern Auditorium
The museum is where we finished our tour. Lined along the walls in glass cases, all the recordings made live at Carnegie Hall. Along other walls, history and photographs and programs from more than a century of music and history makers.
That's Booker T. Washington speaking. There's Mark Twain seated behind him. (1906)
Lionel Hampton's mallets, Benny Goodman's clarinet, Gene Krupa's drumsticks
A piece of the stage after it was remodeled, that held one of the nails that marked exactly there Vladimir Horowitz would find the "perfect acoustic" for his grand piano.
His piano.
Carnegie Hall's own Steinway was not acceptable.
And when he was playing, his own grand piano had to be transported from his place in New York to the Hall, before there was even an easy way to move a piano into the hall, at which point he would sit down and begin the dance, telling the hands to move a little to the left, a little forward, no backward, for hours until he hit the acoustically perfect spot.
One of the hands got the bright idea to mark the floor with nails for the next time.
But the dance continued. And none of the hands pointed out that every single time, the piano would end up exactly where it had started, on those nails marking it. They just kept moving it around until he ended up back where it began.
As it turned out, since Marci was staying on to go to Boston the next day, I arrived at my gate very early and with no slow downs at all. I watched the sun start to set over the city from my window seat.
And just like that, it was over.
Chicago from the air
versus Des Moines from the air
and back on the ground in Denver under a full moon. (and the laptop reflection from the seat beside me)
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