I visit Staten Island once a year to see members of our family who still call it home. Every trip down there brings sadness to my heart, for it is not the island of my youth. I blame the city of New York for poor zoning regulations and a disregard for preservation of history. It comes down to the all mighty dollar and a big dose of corruption, I suppose.
The island was once hailed as a rural respite from the hectic pulse of the big city. There are still some beautiful areas, like the old sea captains homes of Sailors Snug Harbor and Clove Lake Park. Historic Richmond Town is a living history village and museum complex not unlike Sturbridge in Massachusetts, and as far as I can tell, the greenbelt is still “green”. It’s also considered an affordable community for people who fortify the city workforce, although I am shocked at the real estate listing prices.
Sailors Snug Harbor
Also known as Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Garden or referenced informally as Snug Harbor, is a collection of architecturally significant 19th century buildings set in a park located along the Kill Van Kull on the north shore of Staten Island in New York City. It was once a home for aged sailors and is now a 83-acre (340,000 m2) city park. Some of the buildings and the grounds are used by arts organizations under the umbrella of the Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Garden.
Unfortunately, in the 25 years that I have been “off-island”, it’s rapidly become a congested hub of traffic, pollution (both air and ground) overcrowding of housing – duplex after fourplex after sixplex of apartment and condo units with nary a hint of appealing architecture and barely a nod toward horticulture. Historic structures have been removed at an alarming rate and there doesn’t seem to be any sort of movement with momentum to stop the madness.
Years ago, most of the streets looked like this…
Today, many are turning into this…
Among the Casualties….
Clove Lake Stables
My grandmother, her youngest daughter and then my sister and I used to ride rented horses
through the park at one of the two big barns on the island, Clove Lake Stables.
The Stable was originally an ice house, and then converted to a Livery
by the Franzreb family when refrigeration made ice houses obsolete.
That’s me, second from left.
The horse was named Gaslight and I adored him.
I had a plan to someday rescue him when I had a farm of my own.
By the time that happened, Gaslight and the farm were gone.
Sister on pony
In it’s place is a large housing development.
Cedar Grove Beach
My cousin and I braving the waves at waters edge…
Mom with cousin Jay
Recent times…
Cedar Grove was a small cottage community on the water facing the city. Three generations of my family enjoyed summers there in rented bungalows. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was a safe, friendly beach where everyone knew their neighbor and pitched in to keep the place up. Many families had rented the same bungalow for fifty years or more. This year it all came to an end . The article below sums it up beautifully.
Cedar Grove Beach All Washed Up
By Matt Chaban
October 4, 2010
There was no eleventh hour rescue for Cedar Grove, no life preserver for the 99-year-old beach community on Staten Island’s South Shore, the last of its kind. Despite resident’s best hopes, the politicians and preservationists backing the Grovers could not reach a deal with the Bloomberg administration or the Parks Department to save the bungalows at least for another season, to say nothing of another century. Even Andrea Peyser — Andrea Peyser! — couldn’t woo them.
Grovers still maintain there is no reason to spend good money tearing down a good beach — it’s much cleaner than its city-owned neighbors — that pays $140,000 to the Park’s Department every year to exist. It will cost millions of dollars in capital money to tear down the houses and reopen the stretch next year, which is and has always been publicly accessible. At the same time, beaches across the city, including some just up the shore, have been closed due to lack of funds. Never mind that the city is so desperate for money that it is considering selling off its parking meters to fill the widening budget gap.
At midnight Saturday, Cedar Grove was no more. Parks police was on hand to see to that, according to the news -Parks Department officers guarded the club’s gate as members carried out their belongings. “It’s been tough because I’ve been finding a lot of old family memorabilia,” said John Murphy, 52. The Staten Island Advance has been covering the saga closely and has its own tale of woe:
The season at Cedar Grove Beach Club opened each year with the raising of American flags from each of the 41 bungalows. [Saturday], those same flags were flying upside down. “It signals a vessel in distress,” said Roy Wood, a retired Sandy Hook pilot. After nearly a century, time has run out for Cedar Grove. Its lease with the city expired yesterday, an occasion made even grayer by the rain.
Edith Holtermann pulled the remaining produce from her garden. side-note from Karen – (Mrs. Holtermann was my gym teacher in high school – she could throw a mean volley ball if you aggravated her in just the right way.) Mick Kenny took one last view from his back deck. Jennifer Fitzgerald-Young stood on her porch with her daughter, Elizabeth, who at 9 months is Cedar Grove’s youngest resident. Eric Lesnick hoisted his 5-year-old daughter, Lillianna, in his arms.
“We will miss you,” she scribbled on a bungalow wall.
The fate of this community and beach remains to be seen. Demolition of the cottages is on the agenda.
The Family Homestead
Then
We grew up in a century old farm house with a generous yard in the midst of an old family neighborhood. Big oak trees hung over our house and the streets were tree-lined too. When I drive down the old street now, it’s a heavy feeling. Not much is familiar. The house was taken down for a much more profitable four-family times two.
Now
The original front door knocker now mounted on my mother’s current door.
They don’t make them like they used to.
Some things that still exist
My grandmothers house of 42 years… though she moved away years ago
and has since passed on, this will always be Nana’s house to me.
Then
(we were all scared senseless in this photo, even though my cousin Ralph
was underneath the disguise. Santa’s just a scarey dude, why do we torture our kids this way?)
Now
My Aunt and Uncle still live in the house they built 50 years ago.
I used to feed the deer red berries off the bushes in their yard.
I thought I’de rescue them someday too…
and you know, that’s still a possibility.
I’m finding it ironic – the strong desire I had at 18 to get the heck out of Dodge and go find my life in the country….and this wish at midlife to be able to return, if only for a day, to that old familiar place where time was on my side, ambition ran high and all dreams were out there for the making. In those days, in that house, there was not yet the realization that all dreams cannot be met, all relationships will not work out as we would like, all things are not always possible, no matter how badly we work for, want or need them.
The meaning in the quote “You Can’t Go Home Again” as I see it..is this – Even if the old homestead were still intact with every tree still standing, I am changed. I am different. I am polluted and crowded with the experiences of my life. Standing on that very threshold would not bring me “home“, not as I knew it then. Home is the here and now…and really, what am I looking for back there anyway. It’s all good right here.
Well…. there’s the food. But I can bring that back with me.
And I did.
My hometown remains much as it was when I grew up there in the 60's, but shoreline property is very much sought after by investors looking to make big bucks, so there you have the reason for the cabins going away. It's a crying shame.
Such an idyllic childhood you had… so did I.
Di
Such a moving post, Karen. The changes to the island are so sad. The story about the beach cottages really touched me.
It is very true. You can't go home again. My childhood neighborhood remains much the same, but the safety we felt, the wonderful summer programs we had through our recreation dept. It's also grown too much.
xo
Claudia
Going home is never the same after we become adults!
But my comment is Yes they still do make them the same: http://osagebluffblacksmith.blogspot.com/2010/09/fresh-made-daily.html
Patti
This was a lovely snapshot of your life then & now. It does stink going back. I tried it too, only to be disappointed. So, like you I am happy with the here & now. ( with friends like you, it is not so bad) 😉
I love the way your gramma decorated for the holidays! Look at the size of that wreath! And that tree on the garage…..awesome!
And of course…those glittery leaf cookies….Mmmmmmm;)
Karen-I read every word of your post. I have so much empathy for how you feel. I feel much the same way. Except our house fell to fire and the old barn fell to wind storms and had to finally be torn down and my brother saved what he could and burned the rest. The upstairs hay mows were made of tounge in groove butternut ..hard to believe..so that was all saved for use in a house he will build someday.
My brother/sister-in-law lives on Long Island-Setauket. When we visited them last we took a ride to Cedar Grove Beach and they showed us all the little cottages there. What a shame to lose all of that sweet history.
It's true…sad but true…that you can never go home again! Hugs- Diana
Isn't it sad? I was lamenting to a neighbor the other day that I nearly ran over a deer nearby. It's all the damned commercial construction chasing our wildlife from their very homes. I wanted to go straight home and cry.
Brenda
It truly is sad and it's happening everywhere. I love this post, Karen, very thought provoking, but I'm glad you have good memories. We didn't grow up in one house or neighborhood since we travelled where the Navy sent us. The only place I really ever called home was my grandmother's and while the house is long gone, I go over there and just look at the land.
I'm sorry to have been such a slug lately, and will try to do better.
What a brilliantly written post and such a wonderful snapshot of your life. How sad it is to see the things that we cherish torn down or done away with all in the name of "progress". We will all regret all our progress one day.
Home is right where we both are. "Our" little town has also seen the changes but since I never really left, I've flowed with them somewhat. But I see what you mean and when I go back to where I lived the first 6 years of my life, where MY "Nana" lived and where we all spent our holidays our whole childhood, I feel "it". And I am always happy to come home to the familiar – our hometown.
That breaks my heart too. It is happening in so many places. Especially sad to see your childhood home:( There is an area near where I grew up that consisted of a big ravine and a stream and a lovely forest that we used to play in. It has all been filled in and cut down, and is now a dreary subdivision. I wonder about developers, do they see a beautiful tract of land or a large home with property and see dollar signs only.
Ohhhh so sad about that beachside community! I grew up in CT and also feel that we had such a safe and wonderful neighborhood where my mom chased us out in the morning, we came home to eat lunch and went off again until dinner–free as the birds!! Now the homes are being torn down and megahouses built on little tracts of land–sad and all for the big bucks. Now we live in upstate NY and it really feels like back in the 50s around here. I love it!! And loved this post–very thought-provoking. xo Cait
I'm trying to focus on that box of treats at the end of your post, the rest is just too sad. Life rushes by so quickly and for the most part I guess people just rush on with it. I like to think that there are some of us left who appreciate the unique beauty of certain places and preserve the memories and integrity of them by restoring and renewing them. If there was just the money and time for all these places that exist, then new life could continue the memories of the old. The memories you have, piqued by the photos you keep are the best way you can really go home again. Other than that, it's an old cliche, but "home is where the heart is". So true.
YOU COULD CHARGE ADMISSION AND I'D STILL WANT TO VISIT.
This just makes me cry. When, when, WHEN will people figure out it's not about THEM, it's about doing the right thing, leaving the world a better place? We will ALL die, leaving it ALL behind. I want to be remembered fondly, not as some glutton for more, more, more money.
How sad this post makes me…and how true I find it…I hate to see how the little town I live in has changed in the 35 yrs I have lived here…I don't think it is possible to fit one more fast food place, or doughnut shop, or mega drugstore on one small main st…ah progress!
We are seeing these changes every day. It is sad. Very sad. How nice that you still have your memories and your pictures. We daughter was in NYC for the first time this weekend. She has wanted to go there from the time she was just a little girl. She and her boyfriend finally went. She doesn't want to go back though. She said it was to C R A Z Y! She loved Little Italy! Those cookies are a very good reason to go back!
I once went back to the home of my childhood. Such a disappointment. I couldn't believe we'd lived in such a small house. But that was just perception of course. However, the neighbourhood wasn't as green and didn't have that safe and friendly feeling anymore. And that was very much reality.
I'm sure the little deer will love your house and grounds 😉 And the cookies look very tempting.
Karen, what a wonderful post!!
Thank you, Karen.
very sad. sometimes one must question the definition of progress. take care sweet one! xoxo
You have so many of your early memories in her heart. That is where they live, and that can't be taken from you.
I find it inspiring that you recreated the life you had as a child, right where you are now. All the things that were important to you then, you have kept true to. Now you have given that life to your children. This post was so well written Karen…. Susan 🙂
I smiled when I saw the box of cookies at the end of your post. Whenever I return to Virginia from a home visit to New York, I load up the car with food : )
My mom still lives in the house they built in 1952. But "progress" has made every inch beyond her little yard foreign and ugly. Thank goodness for memories and snapshots.
Thanks for visiting me. I enjoy your blog! We're from Albany and we moved away in 2000.
I don't really use a recipe for applesauce. Just cut them into chunks, I don't bother peeling, slowly simmer with a few tablespoons of water until soft, put through my hand crank food mill, add sugar (and cinnamon if desired) to taste. Fill sterile jars with a 1/2 inch head space and process in boiling water bath for 20 minutes.
I haul bushels of apples from NY every fall and keep a spare fridge in the basement just for them : ) I prefer McIntosh for the applesauce since they soften easily and are slightly tart.