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New York's Original Penn Station: The Rise and Tragic Fall of an American Landmark
New York's Original Penn Station: The Rise and Tragic Fall of an American Landmark
New York's Original Penn Station: The Rise and Tragic Fall of an American Landmark
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New York's Original Penn Station: The Rise and Tragic Fall of an American Landmark

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In early twentieth-century New York, few could have imagined a train terminal as grandiose as Pennsylvania Station.


Sandhogs would battle the fiercest of nature to build tunnels linking Manhattan to New Jersey and Long Island. For decades, Penn Station was a center of elegance and pride. But the ensuing rise of the airplane and automobile began to diminish train travel. By the mid-1960s, the station was tragically destroyed. The loss inspired the birth of preservation laws in the city and the nation that would save other landmarks like Grand Central. Author Paul Kaplan recounts the trials and triumphs of New York's Penn Station.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 11, 2019
ISBN9781439666357
New York's Original Penn Station: The Rise and Tragic Fall of an American Landmark

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    New York's Original Penn Station - Paul M. Kaplan

    Finn.

    INTRODUCTION

    It was a monument for the ages—or so they thought. For decades, one of the most influential companies in the nation struggled to reach Manhattan’s elusive shores. Executives tried many tactics, such as building a bridge over the Hudson River, but none came to fruition. Finally, in the late 1890s, Pennsylvania Railroad leaders Alexander Cassatt and Samuel Rea dared to pioneer two feats. First, they would lay down tracks in the turbulent Hudson and East Rivers to reach Manhattan, which had become a global hub of commerce. They were visionaries, as tunneling was a concept few had heard of. Second, they would build a monumental station in the heart of one of New York’s most notorious, corrupt and vice-filled neighborhoods. It would be a station that would do more than transport passengers. It would ennoble the public. For the passerby, whether rich or poor, it was as if Rome had been brought to his backyard. It was a station that would inspire the world, even if only for half a century.

    There are many strands in the tapestry of the Penn Station story. Each has its theme, lesson or inspiration. One strand is the role architecture played to lift the public spirit. Inspired by the Gare du Quai d’Orsay in Paris and Baths of Caracalla in Rome, the planners of Penn Station sought to uplift society. Grandiose architecture transformed a point of destination to a place of wonder.

    The second strand is Penn Station as a rare example of the private industry producing a public good even at a substantial risk. Cassatt and Rea were determined to improve their passengers’ experience by transporting them to Manhattan in one seamless trip. What’s more, in choosing the station’s neighborhood, the railroad combated a cesspool of corruption in New York City through Tammany Hall’s influence and a dishonest police force. It is an example of how a public building could transform a largely blighted neighborhood. Although many were disappointed in the lack of immediate progress in the station’s area, any progress showed the power of public space to change neighborhood perceptions.

    A third, often overlooked strand focuses on the courageous workers behind the scenes who labored as sandhogs or tunnel workers in dangerous and uncertain conditions. These brave workers sank deep into the ground to forge the tunnel inch by inch. The conditions were treacherous, tedious and often outright dangerous. Sadly, some sandhogs died in blowouts or suffered from the bends, a very painful decompression sickness, once they resurfaced. Their names are largely forgotten today, but their deeds are not.

    Another often unnoticed strand is business risk-taking. As Cassatt and Rea set out on building the station and laying down tunnels, the railroad’s stock was tumbling, as skeptical investors doubted that the railroad could pull off these never-tried-before feats. No one truly knew whether the tunnels built from opposite sides of the river would align perfectly. Nor did they know whether these tunnels could withstand the weight of heavy cargo. Yet the PRR executives took on the risk in the hopes of building something momentous.

    The final strand is the more current debate about preserving historic buildings, for the public often does not fully appreciate them until they are gone. The destruction in the mid-1960s of Penn Station was a tragedy for New York City and the world. A monument built for the ages lasted only fifty-two years, to be replaced by a mundane underground station, cramped and dark, with an entertainment complex on top. Penn Station became the martyr, as its destruction led to the Landmarks Commission and subsequent savings of other historical buildings like Grand Central Station.

    The completed tapestry tells the story of this once magnificent station. Although the private sector created it, it was seen by most as a public structure. It encapsulated the dynamic and vibrant life of an ever-changing city. Its inspiring architecture empowered the station to personify the average New Yorker’s hopes and dreams.

    Architecture critic Paul Goldberger summarized the station’s fate: Penn Station represented the aspiration of doing something monumental and noble, of private enterprise creating something extraordinary for the benefit of the public. It was an investment from which future generations would benefit from. The challenge is how you balance the need to preserve what’s best, what’s most important, and the need to invent continually, and change and grow—because that’s what living places have to do.¹

    Chapter 1

    THE DISCONNECTED RAILROAD JOURNEY

    The Pennsylvania Railroad Corporation (PRR) had a persistent problem. It was the most extensive, busiest railway in the nation with ten thousand miles of track extending through the American heartland. But it could not connect to the country’s largest city and center of commerce. Passengers arriving from New Jersey had to disembark from the train and take a ferry over the much-trafficked Hudson River to reach Manhattan’s shores.

    Passenger ferries had to share the river with cargo carrying ice, coal, corn, wheat or other goods depending on the season. Every 10 minutes a Pennsylvania Railroad ferry headed across the Hudson River threading a gauntlet of oceangoing ships, ferries operated by other railroads, tugs, lighters, car floats of one sort or another. The congestion of watercraft on the Hudson River was becoming intolerable.²

    The ferry rides were rife with problems. They were subject to weather changes. At times, they were dangerous. From a passenger standpoint, they were uncomfortable. For time-pressed commuters, they were arduous and slow. Perhaps in previous centuries, passengers may not have expected much more. But the railroad raised their expectations.

    Upon arriving on Manhattan’s shores, most passengers would be greeted with the rough-and-tumble West Street downtown. The area was not desirable. It was a noisy, confusing, hustle and bustle of crowds and merchants. The New York Tribune described the West Street waterfront neighborhood where passengers would enter in unflattering terms. It was a waterfront as squalid and dirty and ill-smelling as that of any Oriental port lined with storage and cold-storage warehouses and large commission houses. It looked gloomy and forbidding.³ The prominent newspaper also described the neighborhood as a whirlpool of slime, muck, wheels, hoofs, and destruction. Various modes of transportation competed for space on the crowded streets: express wagons, clanging trolley cars and horse-pulled carriages. Worse yet, the area was crime-ridden at night from gangs that hovered around the deserted docks.

    Improving the passenger experience was undoubtedly a reason the PRR wanted to reach Manhattan’s shores by rail. But there was also a compelling business reason. The disjointed journey into Manhattan often slowed traffic. This broken journey was a problem for both passenger and freight movement, and it resulted in lost revenues.

    What’s more, New York was the center of commerce for the United States—and one of the most influential cities in the world. Not being able to cross the Hudson or East River to the island of Manhattan was an affront to the PRR, the industry’s dominant railway. As the country’s most extensive railroad, it hauled more freight and transported more passengers than any competitor. By 1900, the Pennsylvania Railroad was the largest corporation in the world. With over 100,000 employees, its operating budget was second only to the federal government’s.

    In this era, railroads dominated the economy, trade and transportation. Jill Jonnes, the author of Conquering Gotham, explained the significance of the railroads to the country at large: The railroads completely remade and redefined every aspect of life in America. They knit the whole country together and really created an entirely new economy. And it was a very industrialized economy, and it was a very urbanized economy.

    The expansion of railroads ignited the economy. Suddenly, goods could be transported more quickly and more efficiently. Railroads reduced transportation costs markedly. Historian Martin Albro proclaimed, In all of the human past, no event has so swiftly and profoundly changed the basic order of things as had the coming of the railroad.⁶ Yet, as Albro pointed out, the changes were also catastrophic, as the carnage it produced in people and property from accidents and collateral damage was unprecedented.

    With this lofty plan to knit the country together, the Pennsylvania Railroad attempted to connect to New York’s shores for more than thirty years. But the surrounding rivers would not be tamed. Some engineers suggested a large-scale bridge. However, the price tag was a startling $50 million (about $1.3 billion in present dollars). Its length would need to be about twice that of the Brooklyn Bridge. Since most trains were steam locomotives, going through long, arduous tunnels under the Hudson River seemed impossible, if not downright dangerous.

    The Pennsylvania Railroad Corporation in 1875 in Pennsylvania would become the largest and most influential company in the United States. Wikimedia Commons.

    VANDERBILT’S RAILROAD EMPIRE

    In 1901, there were few significant means of connecting the island of Manhattan to its surrounding areas. There was the majestic and gracious Brooklyn Bridge connecting Manhattan and Brooklyn. That was the only East River crossing. The next one, the Williamsburg Bridge, opened in 1903. There was only one train line, called the New York Central Railroad, owned by the robber barron William Vanderbilt, one of the world’s wealthiest men and the descendant of the famed Cornelius Vanderbilt. This railroad had the profound competitive advantage of coming into Manhattan when others could not. Its trains came from upstate New York and ran through the east bank of the Hudson, near the Harlem River and into Manhattan. The New York Central had bridges over the Harlem River at the head of Park Avenue and Spuyten Duyvil, their current locations. There were some road bridges over the Harlem River, including the oldest at Kingsbridge. There was also the aqueduct at the High Bridge, built in 1848, which served as a link in the Croton aqueduct bringing fresh water into Manhattan from the Bronx.

    Railroad mogul William Henry Vanderbilt depicted saying, The public be damned in a New York Daily Graphic political cartoon, 1882. Shutterstock.

    The only functional railroad line during this period was William Vanderbilt’s New York Central. William was not known for his concern for passengers. History has shown him as ruthless and greedy. He is said to have remarked, Let the public be damned. Though not customer friendly, he was the PRR’s fiercest competitor. He had succeeded in connecting his railway to Manhattan, a feat the Pennsylvania Railroad had been trying for decades.

    One cannot overstate the influence of these railroads at the time. Their leaders wielded disproportionate power and control. They were the hub of the economy, perhaps like Wall Street houses and hedge funds are today. James Bryce, a British politician, observed of this American phenomenon that [t]hese railway kings are among the greatest men, perhaps I may say are the greatest men in America. They have more power, than perhaps anyone in political life, except the President and Speaker.

    For decades, railroads besides the PRR longed to enter Manhattan. They wanted to take on Vanderbilt’s empire. But like the PRR, they also wanted to provide the convenience for passengers, saving them the huge hassles of taking the ferries across the Hudson into the hustle and bustle of rough New York neighborhoods.

    ALEXANDER CASSATT: THE RAILROAD INNOVATOR

    Few had thought of this challenge more than Alexander Cassatt, the former first vice-president of the Pennsylvania Railroad. Many thought of him as the most brilliant railroad official in the United States.⁸ In pondering the conundrum of his large railway’s inability to reach Manhattan’s shores, he remarked to a fellow engineer, I have never been able to reconcile myself to the idea that a railroad system like the Pennsylvania should be prevented from entering the most important and populous city in the country by a river less than a mile wide.

    In the early 1880s, the promising forty-two-year-old railroad executive had unexpectedly resigned from his post. This announcement came as a big surprise not only to his company but also to the industry at large. Cassatt was not leaving for another role in a different company. He resigned to enjoy an early retirement. Some surmised that Cassatt was irked at being passed over as the railway’s president in 1880 by George P. Roberts. More likely, though, Cassatt desired a life free of the daily concerns of an executive.

    The once promising railroad executive signed his letter of resignation. The letter noted that he wanted more time at my [his] disposal than anyone occupying so responsible a position in railroad management can command.¹⁰

    An 1850s townhouse in Philadelphia that served as the home of Alexander J. Cassatt; his sister, painter Mary Cassatt; and Fairman Rogers, a prominent scientist and civil engineering professor. The house was demolished in 1972. Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs.

    Portrait of Alexander Cassatt, one of the early visionaries of New York’s Penn Station and tunnels underneath the Hudson and East Rivers. Shutterstock.

    Born into a wealthy family, he had the means to retire early. His father made his fortune in banking and real estate in Pennsylvania’s two major cities, Philadelphia and Pittsburgh. Not uncommon of wealthy families at the time, the Cassatts spent considerable time in Europe when Alexander was young. Who could have known the influence Europe would have on both Alexander and his sister, Mary. She would ultimately become an expatriate in Paris and one of the most influential impressionist painters. She was and is famous for painting domestic scenes, such as a mother bathing her child. The U.S. Post Office later honored her life with a commemorative stamp.

    Tutored in French and German, Alexander Cassatt preferred the hard sciences. He studied at the well-known Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in upstate New York. Upon graduating, his career collided with the outbreak of the Civil War. He began his career at a railway in Georgia but soon moved north as the war broke out. Though from an affluent family, Cassatt worked his way up the corporate ladder at the Pennsylvania Railroad. He joined as a surveyor’s assistant, carrying the

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