Subway tiles and mosaics at the new LaGuardia Airport. Many New York landmarks are reproduced in tile, including the Pegasus constellation from Grand Central’s ceiling.

I always try my best to snag a window seat on the left side for takeoff, and the right side for landing, with my camera nearby. When it comes to capturing photos, there’s often a bit of luck involved—from the flight pattern to the amount of gunk on the window—but I find it interesting to survey the city from above. Due to its proximity to the airport, spotting Hell Gate Bridge is always a good bet. Other times you’ll find yourself paralleling the Hudson, with views of High Bridge Yard, Yankee Stadium, Central Park, and Manhattan’s skyscrapers. Other times you’ll fly over Coney Island, and spot Long Island Rail Road trains near Woodside.

Here’s a collection of some of my favorite photos taken in-flight, spotting the trains and tracks from the air. All have been captured within the past year, from at least six different flights through LaGuardia.

Hardly known until Grand Central’s restoration in the 1990’s—and rarely talked about since—many simply assumed that only a select few individuals who had the chance to traipse across sky-high scaffolding would ever gaze upon these signatures 116 feet above the floor. In reality, the full-frame 45 megapixel Canon R5 coupled with an RF 100-500mm lens is sufficiently capable of capturing much of the approximately two inch tall hidden writing, when wielded by a photographer with a will to search the stars!

But why are there any names up there to begin with, and to whom do they belong? For the answers to those questions, we must delve into the backstory of artist Charles Gulbrandsen…

A feature that interested me was the use of small dots, no bigger than a silver dollar, of almost neutral coloring. I said, “Nobody on the floor of the concourse, even with binoculars, could see these dots. Why did you put them here?”

—Charles B. Driscoll recounts of a conversation with Charles Gulbrandsen while touring the sky mural high above Grand Central. Neither the dots nor the signatures were ever intended to be seen from the floor.

Enter Charles Gustave Gulbrandsen

Born in Brooklyn on December 3, 1890 to Norwegian immigrant parents, Charles Gustave Gulbrandsen grew up surrounded by music and art, and family members of considerable creative talent. Charles found a love in painting, commencing with an early career in creating murals, and in his later years designing scenery for theatrical sets, and for television. As an apprentice at Hewlett-Basing Studio, Gulbrandsen played a small part in the creation of the first celestial mural above Grand Central’s main concourse.

Grand Central’s original skylight concept, and the constellations that we actually got.

Originally conceived to be a skylight, both timing and financial constraints led to the alternate concept of a fresco night sky. While much of Grand Central was strong and built to last, perhaps the fact that the ceiling was a bit of an afterthought ultimately led to a less sturdy construction. No matter the cause, it did not take long for the ceiling to begin leaking. Just over a decade later, it had deteriorated to the point of being an eyesore—seeping water had left cracks, streaks, and mold. New York Central executives approached artists for replacement ideas, including Robert Winthrop Chanler, who envisioned a more fantastic starry sky, albeit even less astronomically accurate. Despite these plans the cost of a replacement would be high, and thus no action would be taken for nearly twenty more years.

By the 1940s wartime railroad traffic was booming, and Grand Central set records year after year for visitors passing through. Railroad officials began to have serious fears that the Terminal’s corroded sky was more than simply a cosmetic issue—were any plaster to fall from above it could cause grievous injury. Ultimately, Charles Gulbrandsen was recalled to redo the ceiling, this time as the primary artist. By this time he had worked on several other noteworthy murals, including the ten in the National Newark Building, the Daughters of the American Revolution’s Constitution Hall, and Cornell’s Willard Straight Hall.

Though there was debate about whether the ceiling should be made “correct”—placing the constellations in their appropriate places, and not flipped—Gulbrandsen was set on a near-faithful recreation of the original. Some may have called the work a restoration, but in reality it was a complete do-over. Using large sheets of four foot by sixteen foot tracing paper, details from the original mural were transferred to the new surface—a one-eighth inch thick layer of pressed asbestos board. Then Gulbrandsen, along with five assistants, repainted the entirety of the mural in oil paints. The original mural had taken a year to create, while the recreation took about half that time, the majority of which consisted of bolting the steel rod scaffolding directly to the ceiling girders, and fastening the new board above the old plaster.

The ceiling is decoration, not a map. The constellations are north. They should be south. So what?

—Charles Gulbrandsen on the design of the sky ceiling, 1944. According to Gulbrandsen, the initial reversal was an intentional artistic choice, adapting a subject matter more suitable for a dome onto the Terminal’s barrel-vault configuration.

In total, the painting work took only ten weeks. As new constellations came to life, friends and family members were often invited up onto the scaffolding by Gulbrandsen to get an up-close look at the work going on. Many of the visitors picked a spot to leave their mark, signing their names or other messages for posterity, all invisible to the naked eye of the millions of travelers far below. Even today you can find the names of Gulbrandsen’s eldest children, his wife, several friends, railroad employees, reporters, and others scattered across the vast space of the sky. And when the ceiling was restored in the 1990s, several added to the tradition, including conservator John Canning, whose company worked to clear the grime away.

During the pandemic, finding the names hidden in the sky became a minor obsession for me. I started with the only location I had ever heard mentioned previously—J.V. Brophy’s name hidden in the eye of Pegasus. From there, I was able to determine that my camera, with its super telephoto lens and additional digital zooming, could actually capture the names. The next step was simply to search—I snapped photos of the constellations, merged them in Photoshop, and looked for “abnormalities” in the super-high resolution images. When you ignored all the other details that were too small to see from the ground, like the round holes that the original scaffolding was mounted through, the large staples fastening the boards to the ceiling, and the random streaks of dirt, you’d often find someone’s personal mark.

There was considerable excitement in finding a name, which quickly turned to curiosity. Who were these people, and why were their names there at all? Throughout the journey I learned a lot about an entire clan of talented artists and musicians, became well acquainted with the frustration of not being able to figure out who everyone was, and experienced a profound sadness for a young man whose life was tragically cut short very soon after signing his name in the heavens. It was uniquely exhilarating to find how these people fit into the larger puzzle, and especially so when I sighted the name of an artist whose name I recognized, who likely signed their name while capturing a famous photograph.

The next time you are in Grand Central, look up! There are secrets in the stars, and I am confident that I did not discover them all…

Cancer

Starting off at the northwest end of the Terminal’s ceiling (which would realistically be in the southeast, if the constellations were not reversed) is Cancer, the crab. Look to the right claw and you’ll find two sets of names, one surrounding the star Tegmen, and the other at the claw’s very tip.

1. Moses & Marguerite Harris

Born in 1899 in Brooklyn, Marguerite Harris is remembered as a talented “force of nature.” Leaving home at age fourteen to escape her staunchly religious parents, Marguerite became the assistant to Geoffrey Scott, editor of The Boswell Diaries. With a keen eye for art, Marguerite ran several art galleries in Los Angeles and New York City, including the “Ten Dollar Gallery,” where every painting cost just that amount (after the Great Depression, it became the “Twenty Dollar Gallery”). She was married several times, notably to film producer Sam Zimbalist, from whom she separated around 1940. After returning to New York, she married Moses Harris, and became known as a successful poet and editor. She founded the poetry journal Wand, was a force behind the Woodstock Poetry Festival, and was a recipient of the Edwin Markham Prize for Poetry.

2. 1997 All For Thomas & Jarett

I wasn’t able to track down who Thomas and Jarrett were, but someone wrote their names up on the ceiling of Cancer’s right claw during the restoration of the mural in the 90’s. If you’re ever looking for a signature to spot, this is the brightest and largest, so it would be my first recommendation to beginning ceiling stargazers.

Gemini

Following along the line of the ecliptic (the path of the sun through the stars), the next constellation we arrive at is Gemini, the twins. At least two signatures can be found within.

1. Rose & Mickey Flinn

2. Tom Glason

Orion

Moving on is Orion, the hunter, just below the ecliptic, and the only constellation to not be reversed. Signatures can be found in several of the constellation’s major stars, including Rigel (in the hunter’s foot) and Betelgeuse (in the shoulder). Passing through the bottom of the constellation is the celestial equator, a projection of the Earth’s equator into the sky.

1. T.A. Gilbert

2. P. Bock 1945

3. Ingrid Gulbrandsen

Born on November 8th 1890 in Arendal, Norway, Ingrid Lovold was a talented pianist that was educated in Belgium. She met Charles Gulbrandsen shortly after emigrating to the United States, and they wed in 1911. Together they had five children, including three whose names can be found on Grand Central’s ceiling.

4. Olga Yashina

5. Alfhild Engborg

Born in 1916, Alfhild Gulbrandsen was the second child of Charles and Ingrid Gulbrandsen. She grew up playing the piano and singing, and later attended the Packard School for Business to train as a secretary. Shortly before her name was written here, she married Arvid Robert Engborg.

Engborg held various jobs as a secretary throughout her life, including at the publishing house Doubleday, and was later a customer service representative for Sears Roebuck. She continued to play the piano throughout her life, and was remembered for other creative pursuits, including dressmaking.

Taurus

Next along the ecliptic is Taurus, the bull. Many signers chose stars for their marks, and here is no different. You will find names around the notable stars Elnath (tip of the horn) and Aldebaran (in the bull’s face), along with several others.

1. Nancy Green

2. Lt. H.C. Allington Jr. & Marge Allington

Born in Tarrytown on October 27, 1924, Homer Clifford Allington grew up in Binghamton, and later Port Washington, New York. Through his high school days he was known as “Sug” and was President of the Fratry, the local boy’s service organization. Although short in stature, Allington was a lover of sports (except badminton), and worked on beefing up his muscles by doing the Charles Atlas workout, with the hopes of joining the Navy Air Corps.

Allington instead became a member of the Army Air Forces, and was stationed in Guam as part of the 19th Bombardment Group. He took part in the firebombing of Tokyo in March of 1945, where he was the bombardier aboard B-29 Zero Auer. Shot down by anti aircraft fire, the plane crashed in Kawaguchi City, just north of Tokyo.

Shortly before shipping out, Allington scrawled his and his mother’s name around Zeta Tauri, the star at the tip of Taurus’s right horn. Decades later, it is a memory of one of many young people lost too soon during a brutal World War.

Allington was linked to the Gulbrandsen clan by his elder sister Helen, who married Charles Frithjof.

3. Charles B. Driscoll, New York Day By Day, 1945

Charles Benedict Driscoll, born October 19, 1885 in Wichita, Kansas, was an author of Irish descent, penning the book “Kansas Irish” about his Irish-born father’s life after immigrating to the United States. He worked as a newspaper reporter and editor, and was the author of the column “New York Day by Day” from 1938 until his death in 1951.

Driscoll was given a tour of the work by Charles Gulbrandsen himself, describing the work in the New York Day by Day column which appeared on June 6, 1945.

4. Signe Fay

Born in 1914, Signe Gulbrandsen was Charles and Ingrid’s first child. A talented lyric soprano, she received scholarships to the Curtis Institute of Philadelphia and the Julliard School of Music. As a professional vocalist Gulbrandsen appeared in many concerts in New York and New Jersey, and sang with the Knoxville Symphony Orchestra in 1937. She appeared on Broadway as Mary in the play “Captain Jinks of the Horse Marines” in 1938, and one year later married Thomas Bernard Fay.

5. John Christian

Musca & Triangulum

Further along the ecliptic we pass Aries (the ram), where I did not find any names, and reach the constellations of Musca, Triangulum, and the deprecated Triangulum Minus. Several signatures can be found throughout this group.

Gulbrandsen’s extra triangle

Although not a signature per se, I was unable to find any actual signature by of the artist himself. That being said, the second triangle in Triangulum is a departure from the original mural. Intended to be a faithful reproduction of the original, why was a second triangle added? Perhaps it was a special way for Gulbrandsen to leave his own mark.

As a constellation, Triangulum Minus is considered obsolete, and no longer recognized as an official constellation.

1. CHAWG

2. T.E. Lynch

3. J.A. Zang

4. G.A. Hall

5. Helen Hall

6. E. Nowak

Edwin Stanley Nowak was born on April 18, 1918 in Wyoming County, New York, and grew up in Rochester. Throughout his youth he photographed with a Kodak Brownie, developing his negatives at home. After a short stint studying chemical engineering at the University of Michigan, Nowak landed a lucrative job testing photographic film at Kodak, never returning to finish his degree. Alas, laboratory work left young Nowak unfulfilled, and he took a pay cut to work at a local photography studio.

The allure of more interesting and well-paying photography work lured Nowak to New York City, where he found jobs in the fashion industry and taught darkroom technique at the School of Modern Photography. He persuaded the New York Central Railroad to hire him, and served as the company’s on-staff full-time photographer until 1954, and later on a contract basis. Nowak’s body of work provides an impressive look at the final heyday of a great American railroad.

Later in life Nowak moved to Fort Myers, Florida, where he passed away on January 13, 2002.

Pisces

Next along the ecliptic is Pisces, two connected fishes. Look to their starry eyes, which hold the signatures we are seeking.

1. June & Larry Archer

2. Lois Cannon

3. W. E. Gallaher, Hudson Cond.

William Edwin Gallaher was born in 1908 in Crugers, New York and died in 1992. He worked for the New York Central Railroad as a conductor on the Hudson Division. On his World War II draft card he lists Irvington as his place of residence, and Grand Central’s Room 1612 as his place of employment.

Pegasus

The last constellation along the ecliptic is Aquarius (the water carrier), alas I did not find any signatures there, so we pass along to the opposite corner of the mural, where you will find Pegasus. Notable star Scheat, or Beta Pegasi, holds a total of four names, two along the top, and two more along the bottom.

1. J.V. Brophy

2. Edwin C. Hafker

Edwin Charles Hafker of Port Chester, New York. Born July 8, 1908. Hafker worked as a carpenter for Percy L. Smith Builders of Scarsdale. Died September 2, 1996.

Close to Hafker’s name is another bit of writing, but I was unable to decipher it. Perhaps you may be able to make a discovery of your own right here!

3. “Bub” & Helen Gulbrandsen

According to Gulbrandsen family lore, this was written by the elder Charles in celebration of the nuptials of his son Charles Frithjof Gulbrandsen – “Bub” and Helen Welte Allington.

Charles Frithjof was born September 7, 1920, attended St. Lawrence University after the war, and worked for IBM on Madison Avenue in Manhattan.

4. Mike DeLuco, John Canning, 1996

John Canning is a graduate of the Glasgow Stow College of Building, the Scottish Decorative Trades Institute, and the Glasgow School of Art. He emigrated to the United States in the early ’70s, and established a studio focusing on historic preservation in Cheshire, Connecticut. Some of the studio’s early projects included restoration work at Yale University and Connecticut’s state capitol building. The company was selected to work on Grand Central Terminal’s ceiling as part of the larger restoration efforts in the late ’90s under Beyer Blinder Belle.

Michael Albert DeLuco is a painter originally from Maine that has worked for John Canning’s company since 1987. He worked as a restorer on Grand Central’s ceiling in 1996 and 1997.

Hopefully, the above information will provide the next stargazers a place to begin their own journeys. Know some information about any of the people above, or find something new on the ceiling yourself? Drop me a line or comment below, and I’ll keep this list updated!

Special thanks to Amanda Murphy, great granddaughter of Charles Gulbrandsen, who provided photos and information for this article. Additional family photos were accessed through Ancestry family trees.

The transformation of the area around the train station in the early twentieth century was quick, and massive. The railroad’s tracks rose up, removing them from grade and separating them from the ever increasing amount of automobiles. The electrification process began, laying under-running third rail to permit electric powered trains which were able to operate more frequently. Meanwhile, older, now-obsolete infrastructure like the turntable north of Railroad Avenue disappeared. And in the area surrounding the station, businesses came and went—some by fire, and others by the wrecking ball.

1910 map showing the railroad’s route through White Plains. The small yard at the south end had disappeared before 1960, and the one at the north end was gone in the late 1960s. This land would become the site of the current station in White Plains.

Enter Admiral Dot

No prominent railroad town would be complete without an array of hotels for weary travelers to lay their heads. Surrounding the depot at White Plains were several, including the Union, the Orawaupum, as well as Admiral Dot’s Hotel.

Owner and operator Leopold Kahn was a quasi-celebrity, previously exhibited as a circus oddity along with several other “midgets” with similar military-esque monikers. The Admiral Dot appellation was given to Kahn in his youth by showman P.T. Barnum himself. Although from a modern lens such “freak show” exhibitions seem ethically problematic, at the time displaying such abnormalities for amusement and profit were commonplace. Dot, who at age seventeen was said to only weigh twenty pounds and was just over two feet tall, was shown alongside “Siamese twins“, a horned woman, and a “man monkey,” among many others.

Though many came simply to gawk at someone they found strange, Kahn actually enjoyed performing, and would sing, dance, and play musical instruments. Outside of the circus he performed as part of an acting troupe comprised of others with dwarfism, where he met his wife Lottie. Soon after their wedding in 1892, Kahn retired from “showbusiness” and took the small fortune accumulated from the circus (a quarter million dollars, equivalent to almost $7.5 million today) to settle down and open a hotel along Orawaupum Street.

Admiral Dot’s Hotel was just a short walk from the train depot, and even advertised by printing unofficial railroad timetables. A family affair, the couple maintained the hotel with nephew Major Atom (who was also in the circus), who worked as the night clerk. Along with the hotel, which was comprised of 48 guestrooms, a bowling alley, ballroom, and restaurant, Kahn also operated Lexington Hall, a banquet hall and concert venue behind the hotel where the Excelsior Orchestra performed every Wednesday night for dancing. Both survived until February 1911 when they burned to the ground in a fire along Orawaupum Street. As a firefighter with Independent Engine Company #2 Kahn was one of many that fought the fire, but was unable to stop it from destroying several businesses, including his own.

Processed By eBay with ImageMagick, z1.1.0. ||B2

Processed By eBay with ImageMagick, z1.1.0. ||B2

A New Rail Station Rises

Befitting the ever growing city of White Plains, a new monumental station was planned to replace the old, and completed in 1914. Designed by two of Grand Central’s architects, Warren and Wetmore, the station was one of the most notable along the Harlem Line, and a twin to the station built at Poughkeepsie. It boasted a large waiting room (the largest in Westchester County) with six long, double-sided chestnut wood benches, a cafeteria where travelers could grab a meal, and an adjoining room for Railway Express. The new station was built on a pile foundation and featured a copper roof and exterior walls of patterned brick, adorned with terra cotta detailing. The inside was finished with brick and wood paneling, and used steam heating and as expected for a recently electrified railroad, electric lights. Similar to those found in Grand Central, chandeliers featured exposed bulbs, highlighting the use of electricity. Coupled with the large eastern-facing arched windows, the station was filled with light.

The station itself was at street level, but was connected to the raised tracks twenty-five feet above, with 600-foot-long wooden platforms and shelters available for riders to wait.

Despite the sturdy brick construction, the station lasted only 69 years, meeting the wrecking ball in 1983, finally killing off a decayed and graffitied shadow of its former self.

The Bronx River Parkway is Born

Years of factory waste and the direct dumping of sewage left the Bronx River a foul and polluted waterway, deemed a “serious menace to public health.” The Bronx River Parkway Reservation project, which began in 1906, had several major goals, prime among them to clean up the river and to create a modern and efficient roadway from which to enjoy the scenery. As the railroad paralleled the river in many areas, the restored vistas would be visible to those onboard trains as well. In fact, some of the perceived pollution were the miles of billboards erected on the banks of the river and facing the tracks, advertising directly to the captive audience of train riders.

Although the restoration of the river was an admirable goal, not everyone was thrilled with the idea of the project. Significant portions of land needed to be taken—about two thirds of property owners sold their land directly, the rest was claimed through the courts and condemnation proceedings. Project designers stated that much of the land was blighted and filled with dilapidated shacks that were better off removed, but in reality this wasn’t always the case. In White Plains a neighborhood of Italian Americans on the opposite side of the railroad tracks was ousted, with homes, businesses, and churches razed.

At completion, the reservation was approximately fifteen miles long, and varied in width from 300 to 1,000 feet, with 125 acres in the city and 900 in Westchester.

When looking back at the project through the lens of modernity, I think one can see that cleaning and preserving the river was a necessity. However, the final arbiters of what land was taken and what neighborhoods were razed seemed to have made exceptions based upon cronyism, or to benefit more affluent areas like Bronxville, and likewise introduced ethical issues. Eugenicist and “scientific racist” Madison Grant, leader of the Bronx River Parkway Commission, was likely overjoyed to wipe immigrant neighborhoods off the face of the map, as he saw “non-Nordics” such as Irish and Italians as inferior humans and corruptors of American society.

The Commision’s idyllic vision for the parkway did not include the heavy industry that had grown up around the railroad, and several ousted businesses did not survive after losing their sidings and direct links to the Harlem.

In the city… there is a low class of development and increasingly unsanitary conditions. These already constitute an intolerable nuisance and serious menace to public health, apparently being neglected until some disastrous epidemic shall bring it forcibly to public attention…

Each of these three tales prove poignant snapshots of the drastically different White Plains of the early twentieth century. As evidenced by Dot’s unofficial timetable, a person living in New York City may have actually ventured to White Plains for the purpose of entertaining themselves at the hotel, restaurant and concert venue, and may have taken the train to do it. At one point in time the core area of White Plains surrounding the train station was both walkable and filled with businesses and entertainment.

The rise and fall of the Warren and Wetmore station in the city proved to be a poster child for the movement of urban renewal. Something that was once beautiful had degraded into a broken down and graffitied shadow of its former self. Tearing it all down and starting anew seemed like the best idea to planners and leadership at the time. In some ways, the razing of a neighborhood for the Bronx River Parkway’s construction was almost like a dry run, foreshadowing the future actions to take place in the area near the station. Many municipalities across Westchester and beyond experienced the taking and razing of homes and businesses for the progress of parkways and interstates, but far fewer of them went through the drastic step of erasing their entire downtown in the name of progress.

It may not have been paradise, but it got paved over, and today there’s a heck of a lot of parking lots. Was the complete erasure of downtown successful in attracting businesses? Certainly. But it erased a community and turned it into an imposing car-centric quasi-office park. As the dilapidated White Plains mall crumbles, and the Galleria reaches its functional end of life, new ideas are needed to reinvent downtown, and bring back the people that have long been kept away.

Special thanks to Patrick Raftery, Librarian at the Westchester County Historical Society. Posts like these would not be possible without the excellent archival photography found at the WCHS, and in the collections of the White Plains Public Library and the Westchester County Archives.

The new station to which the train had arrived was a simple wooden affair, which the guests likened to a “barn-like shanty.” It simply blended in with the rest of the small farming town of just over a thousand inhabitants. At the time White Plains was merely a “sweet inland village” just over the “pleasant hills and through the valley of the Bronx.” It was remembered as a battlefield of the Revolution, and where George Washington kept his headquarters for a time. But now, linked with rails of iron (and they were iron—not the metal-strapped wood rails the Harlem had spent much money to experiment with and later replace) to the city of New York, surely this sleepy town was bound to grow exponentially!

Adding to the crowd already surrounding the station, the three hundred or so railroad brass and their invited guests ambled out and onto dinner just a short ways away. Their trip began at New York’s City Hall, stuffed until they were practically overflowing into cars hauled by horses of the flesh and blood variety. Transferring over to a steamer at 27th Street they began their journey of “romantic and historical tradition and reminiscence” which is just a fancy way of saying that when the president of the railroad is on board and wants to stop to fill up on alcohol, by God you stop the train at Harlem and Fordham to get more, of course!

Thankfully railroad president David Banks was not too inebriated to provide a rousing speech highlighting the Harlem’s past obstacles and opposition overcome, and provide optimism for the future of the railroad—North to the Housatonic? West to Albany? Something great surely would be happening forthwith as it was the manifest destiny of the capitalists and businessmen of New York to build a railroad to Lake Erie and then the west!

And one cannot forget the toasts!

To the Judiciary of New York—their learning and judgement—as well as the ladies, of whom we see many here—how can the Harlem Railroad fail to prosper, supported by law, love, and physic?

To the farmers of Westchester County, may they reap the benefit of riding on a rail!

Those were, of course, two of many mentioned that night. As far as reaping benefits, it was not only the farmers of Westchester that would be advantaged, but likewise many of the men that celebrated that evening… and the residents of a tiny village that would eventually grow to become the city we know today.

Although there was a good road—thank the sticks and stones, and iron, and other hard materials, including the hard-fisted laborers who worked on it; although there was good weather—thank God—it requires the whole of these commendable considerations together to reconcile one to a dreary, monotonous kill time journey of 3 hour’s duration on 23 miles of a railroad.

—An unfortunately sober reporter for the New York Herald

These [the Harlem Railroad and New York ferries] being cheap and public modes of conveyance, are crowded with masses of people escaping from the city, and pouring themselves out upon the places in its immediate vicinity. The influence arising from this evil is most deleterious. It allures the population from the sanctuary to scenes of mirth and sin. It inflicts on the inhabitants of these adjacent localities, the curse of a vicious and reckless influx of strangers. Intemperance, licentiousness, profaneness, and every form of irreligion, are thus fostered, both in the city itself and in the places of resort around it.

—New York Evangelist rails against the sinful methods of public transportation which operated every day of the week, ignoring the Sabbath, in 1842.

The true measure of distance, especially from a historical perspective, cannot be accurately gauged in miles, but instead in the duration of time it takes one to get there. With the advent of railways, people and goods were able to travel much further than they ever were before, in far less time. But any technological advance of such magnitude inevitably draws out the naysayers, fearmongers, and conspiracy theorists…

The railroad is unnatural! It is sinful! Men were never intended to move at such great speed. Women! Their ovaries will fall from their wombs, rendering them sterile. The jarring motion of the locomotive will make your blood boil, and cause permanent injury to your brain! Madness will certainly be induced by the speed of the dastardly beast! People will surely suffocate! And the cows! Think of the farm animals that will cease to graze, disturbed by this unholy contraption! Hens will quit laying eggs, birds will plummet from the sky in the throes of death.

All of these, and many other, nonsensical beliefs were attributed to the coming of railroads; when preparing their road’s extension, the directors of the Harlem almost expected to hear some of these senseless ideas from the commoners of Westchester.

While no protest would stop the expansion of the Harlem, the cooperation of a succession of land owners along the proposed route of the road was needed. Thus the “diplomatic” and “amiable” Gouverneur Morris Jr. was sent out to negotiate, or “overcome the minds of many of the land owners’ existing prejudices against railroads.” In some cases, little fighting was necessary, as residents intuited the value of having a railroad nearby. Two members of the Purdy family fell into this camp— Jacob, who transferred the land for White Plains, and Isaac, whose land later became the aptly named Purdy’s station. In both cases the land transfers were for nominal fees of a single dollar.

Once the land was acquired, construction steadily moved forward. Many of the laborers constructing the road were Irish immigrants, paid up to 75 cents a day and their board—dirt floor hemlock shanties along the future right-of-way. By June of 1844 service to Tuckahoe was open to the public, and the next six miles into White Plains soon thereafter. The openings were well attended curiosities, and for some it was the first time in their life they had ever glimpsed the magnificent iron horse.

For two full years White Plains served as the terminus of the Harlem Railroad. As such, the road required all the necessary infrastructure to operate, including a roundhouse and turntable. Two small railyards existed on either side of Railroad Avenue (today’s Main Street), with the one on the north end having the turntable, roughly located where the current White Plains station is today. On the south end there were several tracks that directly served some of the new industries that had popped up adjacent to the railroad, including animal feeds, coal, lumber, and other building materials.

Although industries may have found the rails useful, the population of White Plains did not immediately explode after the coming of the Harlem. The added connectivity was certainly valuable, it was just not frequent—service began with only four round trip passenger trains per day, with the trip taking well over an hour (even without the pit stops for acquiring more alcohol). Over time the frequency of trains steadily increased, and the ride time shortened, thanks to new technology (including electrification) and newly scheduled express trains. And instead of a single flat fare for every trip, new types of tickets were introduced, including booklets intended for commuters with 150 ride coupons, valid for three months from the date of purchase.

Just before the turn of the century the Harlem’s single train schedule was split out into two—Form 112, which included the more distant locations along the Harlem, and the Form 113, which were the commutation trains from Grand Central. The timetables also were broken down into weekday and weekend schedules, with additional southbound frequency in the mornings, and northbound in the evenings, new offerings tailored to the commuter. Finally, White Plains had become a realistic suburb, where both living in “the country” and working in the city was feasible, or as New York Times noted in 1927, “White Plains is but thirty-six minutes from Grand Central Station [sic] and actually nearer in point of time than many subway terminals in New York City.”

The present [railroad] service is the result of a steady and satisfactory growth from year to year, until, at the present time, about as many trains are run during the rush hours of the day as the present track accommodations will take care of… for years the service given has actually exceeded the bare necessities of the business to be taken care of, and that instead of being a little behind the times with its service, the railroad company has led the procession…

In addition to all its other charms as a suburban home center, the village of White Plains has that most indispensable feature of suburban life, a first-class train service; and in this respect it is excelled by no other village in the outlying districts of the center of the universe commonly called New York… If the recent growth of both the village and the train service is any indication, White Plains has a very gratifying future indeed.

—John Rosch’s Picturesque White Plains, 1906.

Looking back over the past hundred-plus years of White Plains’ history, did the city live up to the hopes of Rosch and other citizens of yesteryear? Beyond the railroad, what other factors influenced the growth of this city? How did the railroad, complete with two railyards, come to the state it is now? What transit-oriented development can today’s citizens hope to see in the next decade? All of these questions will be considered in the upcoming continuation of our series on the history of White Plains… coming soon!

Once an artist completed a plate, ink was applied and then wiped off the surface. Nestled in the grooves of the plate, the remainder of the ink yielded a transferred image when when applied to paper and run through a press. Although the image would be nearly the same each time, artists could always make slight variations with different colored inks, or by cropping out areas of the image. Eventually, the plate would wear out and a new one would be created, sometimes very similar to the first.

Above: Two printings of an identical plate, though cropped to make a vertical or horizontal image.
Below: Three very similar illustrations of the train shed. The plate for the image at left was likely a reference for the illustration at center.

When thinking about creating a post of illustrations and prints from the old Grand Central Depot, I thought that a bunch of black and white illustrations might be a tad boring. If I had the original plates I could reproduce many of these images in an array of colors, but since I don’t, I can simulate it in Photoshop. Just like my time spent in the print shop, it’s always a fun thought experiment to try different colors and inks. Some may look good, others not so much. It is a fun exercise, at least.

So, enjoy a colorful look at life at Grand Central Depot. Some of the illustrations come from timetables, others from publications like Harper’s Weekly and The Century Illustrated. A good portion of the illustrations come from Orson Lowell, who spent time at the station observing passengers and recreated the moments in time where a couple missed the last train, or the “human medley” found in the waiting room. Perhaps you may even learn a new fact—for example, did you know the Depot’s baggage room was nicknamed “the morgue?”

Vintage engraving of Grand Central Depot, New York, 19th Century. Grand Central Depot brought the trains of the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad, the New York and Harlem Railroad, and the New York and New Haven Railroad together in one large station.

If you’re interested in reading more about life at the Depot, I recommend the Century Illustrated’s article “The Gates of the City” which can be found here. Both the author and the illustrator observed the goings-on at the station and astutely encapsulated the lives of various travelers, especially commuters. I will leave you with an excerpt of their story…

Although so long ago, in some respects we today are in a similar situation. The city was likewise gripped in a pandemic, although in this case the killer was cholera. Arriving on the shores of New York from oceangoing vessels, the bacterial disease killed 3,000 New Yorkers by the end of the summer in 1832. Laborers building the railroad found parts of the city deserted, as nearly 100,000 people fled the city in fear of cholera. Several of the workers contracted the disease, which some blamed on the apples they would eat from an orchard along Third Avenue, but it wouldn’t be until 1854 that John Snow discovered that the affliction was transmitted through contaminated water. Many of the city’s upper-class denizens were apathetic toward the disease, blaming the poor and their “moral depravity.” Despite cholera’s predominant effect on the working class, construction of the railroad continued.

On November 14, 1832 the festivities were far greater than the groundbreaking the previous year—every New Yorker in the vicinity wanted to see the opening of the New York & Harlem Railroad. The mayor and railroad executives arrived by carriage to the depot near Union Square, and every window in every building facing the tracks had little heads peeking out to catch a view of this novelty of transportation. Two railcars resembling an omnibus had large iron wheels that fit the flanges of the rail, and were each pulled by two horses. Each car, upholstered in fine cloth and complete with fine glass windows, could accommodate forty passengers inside and out. Getting up to a speed of about twelve miles per hour, the horses were able to pull far heavier loads over the rail than if they were on the pavement.

A horsecar on the New York & Harlem Railroad

“The comfort and convenience of this railroad to our citizens will be inconceivable. Instead of being cramped and confined to a single lot of ground and a close atmosphere in the city, an acre or two will be purchased and a comfortable house built at a reduced expense, a garden, orchard, dairy and other conveniences follow; and the train of railroad carriages will start from Trinity Church and convey passengers to Harlem and the intermediate stopping places, with as much facility and ease as they are now conveyed to Greenwich Village. These are a few of the advantages which this small undertaking promise; and in fact it will make Harlem the suburbs of New York.”

—New York Courier and Enquirer

Many were already dreaming for the future. The New York Courier and Enquirer predicted the creation of suburbs because of the railroad, although they were conservative in their estimation that only Harlem would be the suburb. The rail line would eventually spur growth in Westchester and beyond, making New York City easily accessible for commuters. But at this time everyone except the idealists saw the little rail line as just an experiment. Cars were frequently full, although they only operated from 9 AM to 5 PM on every day except Sunday. Stations were largely suggestions—it was permissible for drivers to stop anywhere a passenger needed.

Eventually the line became an established method of transport, with a second track and trains running every fifteen minutes. Locomotives were acquired, supplanting horses on the northern end of the line. Further tunnels were bored, including a 600 foot long tunnel through solid rock in Yorkville between 88th and 95th Streets. By fall of 1837 the line had reached the banks of the Harlem River, and operated from designated stations: Walker, Grand, Broome, Prince, Bond, 4th, 9th, 18th, 21st, 25th, 28th, 32nd, 42nd, 50th, 61st, 71st, 79th, 86th, 92nd, 109th, 115th, 125th, and 133rd.

View of the Tunnel of the Harlem Railroad by Nicolino Calyo, circa 1837.

“The Harlem Railroad may now be considered as completed. This road may be considered but a great link to greater and mightier undertakings. When the rails are laid as they unquestionably will be to Albany, it is certain that there will be one uninterrupted line from this city to Buffalo.”

—New York Evening Express

No one had expected the railroad to go beyond Harlem. A previously chartered road, the New York and Albany Railroad, was unable to complete their line after six years and surrendered their rights to the New York and Harlem in 1838. The state legislature authorized the construction of a bridge over the Harlem River, and construction began to Putnam County and beyond. By February 1840 the railroad owned 140 horses and 6 locomotives: Minerva, Westchester, New York, Harlem, Yorkville, Brother Johnathan. Two years later the line had reached Williams Bridge, and in another two years, White Plains. It finally reached its northernmost point of Chatham in 1852.

The railroad will always hold a special place in New York’s history as the city’s first railroad. Although its importance diminished over the years, playing second fiddle to the line along the Hudson River and later experiencing partial abandonment, the line will have both riders and fans in its current incarnation as Metro-North’s Harlem Line for many years to come.

Introduction to "Summer Homes on the Harlem Railroad"

The ticket office at Tryon Row, 1839.

Reopening on September 25, 1980, the old railroad hotel was reinvented as the Grand Hyatt, now clad in a reflective anodized aluminum skin. The inside of the old Commodore was gutted and redesigned, but structurally the new hotel reused the bones of the old. Designed and marketed to a more luxury crowd, permitting higher room costs to cover the significant overruns during development, the hotel still faced some of the faults of its predecessor. To curb the ballooning costs of the project many elements were reused, including elevators, heating, and even plumbing. Thus the “new” hotel had the same slow elevators, no individual temperature controls, smaller sized rooms and bathrooms, and turn of the century plumbing.

Sixteen years later Donald Trump was no longer in the picture, having sold his stake in the hotel to Hyatt owners the Pritzker family. Shortly thereafter the Grand Hyatt began a renovation project in 1996, and was again renovated in 2011. That most recent renovation brought Awilda and Chloe, an art installation by Jaume Plensa consisting of two large white marble heads which seem like they’d fit in more with Grand Central’s Mercury than the Grand Hyatt. Today the Grand Hyatt remains closed, with operations suspended due to the Covid-19 pandemic. It is uncertain if the hotel will reopen again before demolition is slated to start in 2022.

After that date, we will enter a new era—that of Project Commodore, or as it will be known when complete, 175 Park.

10 Reasons why you’ll love the new skyscraper next to Grand Central

“Oh, great. Another skyscraper dwarfing Grand Central,” you say. The doom and gloom crowd of the railfan community have already made their pronouncement of distaste in the comments sections of various Facebook groups. Conversely, I think the future is bright—and for your consideration, I present ten reasons you might actually love 175 Park.

1. Nobody will really miss the Grand Hyatt

Hideous. Garish. Ruined. A darn shame. Destroyed. Damaged forever. Sacrilege. A travesty. An utter and inexcusable outrage. One of the Darth Vader buildings of New York City. These are all words and phrases that have been used to describe the conversion of the Commodore into the Grand Hyatt. The stately brick and limestone Commodore was one of many structures surrounding 42nd Street that created a uniform aesthetic whole, a neighborhood of buildings that all looked like they belonged together. The older Beaux Arts Terminal could still fit in with the slightly newer Art Deco Chrysler Building, but the drastic change in the material covering the Grand Hyatt created a stylistic dissonance in the Grand Central district, far beyond that of the similarly loathed Pan Am Building.

Nobody will miss the Grand Hyatt, except for perhaps Donald Trump. We can’t get the Commodore back, but finally the abomination on 42nd Street will be gone. As Commissioner Jeanne Lutfy of the Landmarks Preservation Commission stated during the recent hearing regarding 175 Park, “I’m not going to be sorry to see the Grand Hyatt leave this location.” Even if the replacement isn’t exactly your cup of tea, at least it will be well designed and actually attempts to fit in with the area.

2. 175 Park was designed to exist harmoniously with Grand Central

New York City’s zoning regulations require an advisory review to be issued by the Landmarks Preservation Commission for projects occurring in lots contiguous to Grand Central, judging the project’s “harmonious relationship” to the historic structure. At it’s core, harmony in this sense is simply whether Grand Central and the proposed building work and look good together—they don’t need to match in style to be harmonious. Ultimately, the majority of the LPC (voting 8-2) felt the two were harmonious, albeit through their contrast. During testimony some worried that the supertall 175 Park would simply dwarf Grand Central, yet Commissioner Gustafsson raised the point that the structure’s height was in fact irrelevant in terms of harmony. The building’s presence on the skyline has little to do with it’s harmonious relationship to Grand Central as the more important vantage is seeing the two together on 42nd Street, which would really only include the new structure’s base, which does convey harmony.

Being harmonious wasn’t always a requirement for Grand Central’s neighbors, however. As a nearly 60 year old building owned by a bankrupt company in the late 70s, the Commodore probably looked pretty dingy—or in Trump-speak, like a “welfare hotel.” As part of the negotiated tax breaks for the Commodore deal, Trump had the façade of Grand Central cleaned, and it is likely the Commodore needed a wash just as badly. Unfortunately, instead of a scrubbing the building was encased in aluminum, a reflection of the sentiments of developers of the era. Architecture critic Paul Goldberger described them as such: “cheap, simple buildings… [which] added little either visually or socially to the life of the city.” Little care went into the plan for the outside of the hotel and how it would fit into the fabric of the neighborhood, as that was never the intention.

In contrast, the team at Skidmore, Owings & Merrill (SOM), the designers of 175 Park, have thought a lot about how their structure will look next to Grand Central, and have taken inspiration from it’s design. Notably, the project team also includes Beyer Blinder Belle—the firm that worked on the restoration of Grand Central in the 90s—as an architectural and historical consultant. Any supertall skyscraper would inevitably draw the eye, but the underlying concept of this project is to be respectful of, and to complement, not compete, with Grand Central, building on the legacy of “Terminal City.” Though thoroughly modern in style, and intentionally so, SOM’s proposed design boldly addresses the constraints of the location (there are limitations on where the building can be anchored, due to the railroad infrastructure below), yet is also sympathetic to its famous neighbor in several ways.

Although metal will be used as a visible material in the new structure, it will sport a warm matte finish to more closely imitate the Terminal’s Indiana limestone façade, and prevent garish reflections. The contemporary look is fluid, more resembling woven fabric than a boxy collection of geometric shapes. A metallic lattice structure wraps the building, tapering and intertwining at the top to form an elegant crown, and separating at the base like a curtain to reveal the entrance. The design is symmetrical, mirroring Grand Central’s balance, and texturally riffs off of the Terminal’s Corinthian columns and mullion windows. The sculptural base of 175 Park matches the scale and proportion of Grand Central’s façade, and the interwoven mesh skin running the length of the building divides into two load bearing bundles to anchor the structure to the ground in front. At ground level the individual metallic strands of the bundle are fluted, suggesting Grand Central’s classical columns, yet remaining more slender than the originals as to to not overshadow their monumentality.

The two front metallic column bundles tie into a column base, which is subsequently anchored to a below-grade mega column. Their column bases will be obscured from view by flanking ramps, leading to one of my favorite parts of the new development…

3. There will be a great new place to wait for your train, or just hang out

Further continuing the theme of respect for Grand Central, the design of 175 Park allows the Terminal to finally stand on its own again. The exterior wall of the Commodore and Grand Hyatt rose straight up at the property line, crowding Grand Central. Pulling the footprint of the skyscraper back from the property line and tapering the base of the building allows the Terminal to breathe again, as well as introduces free space to be offered to the public. Appearing to be an extension of the plinth which holds up Grand Central and Park Avenue around it, the terraces also provide visual continuity along 42nd Street and further wrapping around Lexington Avenue.

Three terraces will surround the west, east, and north sides of the building, two sloping ramps will provide access to the terraces from the south side, and another set of stairs will enable further access on the east. The Chrysler Terrace, on the east side facing Lexington Avenue, will provide a brand new way to appreciate the art deco Chrysler Building. Sandwiched in between the new building and the Graybar is the aptly named Graybar Terrace, behind the skyscraper. The most notable of the three, providing a unique new vantage point to take in the Terminal, is the Grand Central Terrace on the building’s west side. Filled with greenery, art, and places to gather, each of the terraces will undoubtedly be a popular addition to the neighborhood—especially the Grand Central Terrace which now reveals the usually unseen east face of the Terminal. Combined, the three terraces will provide 20,000 square feet of public space for the community.

4. 42nd Street will be even nicer for pedestrians

Beyond the new views made available by the terraces, sightlines of Grand Central will also be improved for pedestrians along 42nd Street. The current boxy configuration of the Grand Hyatt blocks views of Terminal, with very little of the façade visible from the corner of Lexington and 42nd. The skyscraper’s reduced footprint and tiered structure yields an added bonus—revealing of more of the historic Grand Central. Furthering the effect is the skyscraper’s façade which features a cable net supported glass wall, allowing additional sightlines through the building to see even more of the landmark.

Though the enhanced visuals will certainly be appreciated by anyone walking through the neighborhood, the project also includes tangible improvements to make the lives of pedestrians better. The clunky overhang of the Grand Hyatt’s bar will be removed, no longer looming over the sidewalk on 42nd Street. The sidewalk in front of the building will be widened, and a new entrance will be provided for direct access to the subway to ease congestion. Two sloping walkways flank the entrance to the new skyscraper, providing pedestrian access to the viaduct level and the terraces, but will not take up any portion of the current space on the sidewalk.

5. It will bring light to formerly dark, claustrophobic places

One of the perks of Grand Central’s design, and a bonus for pedestrians on foul weather days, is its interconnectedness with its neighbors. The stature of the Commodore was certainly elevated by the fact that a visitor never had to step foot outside after getting off their train, one just simply walked through the connecting passageway and straight up to the hotel. Although those links still play a major part today—joining Grand Central to Lexington Avenue at multiple points, and 42nd Street through the hotel—they aren’t all as beautifully designed as the Terminal. Despite being in more of an art deco style, the Graybar Passage is a fitting connector, featuring intricate chandeliers, high ceilings, with even a mural on part of it. Meanwhile, the Lexington Passage isn’t terrible, but its low ceilings have a foreboding quality that fails to fit with the majesty of Grand Central.

Thankfully, adjustments have been planned for the passageways that connect the current Grand Hyatt to Grand Central. Ceilings will be raised, and natural light will be allowed to shine through. Pulling the skyscraper back from the property line has been mentioned several times already, yet that simple consideration yields a multitude of benefits. In this case, the new open space above allows skylights to be installed, flooding the hallways with refreshing natural light. Beyond sunshine, the strategically placed skylights will align with Grand Central and provide another portal to rarely seen views of the Terminal’s exterior. In addition, several retail spaces will be removed to make the area feel less claustrophobic, and to create a new access hall for the subways.

6. The redesigned subway access will alleviate bottlenecks

One of the most notable transit improvements to be completed as part of Project Commodore is the creation of an open train hall for access to the subway. The other part of being harmonious with Grand Central is the new structure working in tandem with the landmark, and these enhancements were welcomed by the Landmarks Preservation Commission for improving the current state of affairs (or as Commissioner Devonshire called it, “hell on Earth”). That current state of affairs is a very congested 42nd Street passage, filled with people moving about in a multitude of directions—some going in and out for the subway, and others going in and out for Metro-North or other spots in Grand Central. Further choking the space was the removal of one of the original entrance portals on 42nd Street in favor of an elevator, which will now be restored to its original configuration to allow freer movement, and the elevator relocated.

Traffic from people entering and exiting the subway for the outside will also be relieved through a brand new entrance on 42nd Street, and a new open air entrance to the subway on Lexington Avenue. Fare collection will be moved up to the ground floor of the train hall, allowing for new connections to be made on the mezzanine level.

7. East Side Access will become a real part of Grand Central

When Grand Central was conceptualized, the ways in which it would be accessed and used were carefully considered. Entrances, exits, and accessways were purpose-built for the different people that would use them. Commuters were the dwellers of the lower level, with ramps to lead them out of the Terminal, never to clash with the outgoing long distance travelers of the main concourse, or the arriving long distance passengers in the Biltmore Room. Even the most mundane of ideas were agonized over, from the color of the employee uniforms, to the testing of different ramp slopes to see which yielded the best result for people moving about.

Much has changed since that time, and Grand Central will become more complex than its creators ever envisioned with the addition of East Side Access. This extension of purpose needs to fit intuitively into the already intricate arrangement, and travelling up from the ESA hall, up from GCT’s lower level, up again and across to the subway, then down to get through fare control, and down again to board your train is an incredibly convoluted journey for anyone arriving on an LIRR train looking to transfer to the subway. There is, however, a more harmonious solution.

Just as Grand Central’s designers created separations of function to enhance movement, the team designing 175 Park has attempted to follow in their footsteps to strategize intuitive methods of navigating this complex transit hub. In another instance of where the two structures can work together is in the creation of a logical connection from East Side Access and Grand Central’s lower level directly to the subways. This new link will join ESA, which is under Grand Central, with the subway that is under the current Grand Hyatt, and allowing movement to travel through a new designated passageway instead of cluttering the already crowded existing spaces.

8. You’ll still be able to stay overnight next to Grand Central

Despite the fact that the Commodore was a bit seedy and run down in its sunset years, the very final guest to check out of the hotel—a tourist from Missouri visiting New York with his wife and sister-in-law—still found the place “beautiful.” Maybe you raged at me about my general pronouncement in reason 1 that nobody will miss the Grand Hyatt, because you will. Maybe you just want to be able to stay in a hotel close to the most noteworthy New York landmark of them all (it’s Grand Central, folks). Or maybe you’re just curious to look down at the Terminal from high above. Either way, the new skyscraper will still have a hotel, although it won’t be the sole focus of the structure. The brand new Grand Hyatt will have up to 500 rooms located across floors 65 through 83, taking up 453,000 square feet of the skyscraper. Anyone willing to shell out the dough necessary to stay at that fancy penthouse suite will be on top of New York. Quite literally.

9. It will bring the spotlight back to the East Side

At completion, 175 Park will be the tallest building in New York City by roof height. Since the Council on Tall Buildings and Urban Habitat (yes, it’s a real thing) judges building height to the architectural top of a structure, which includes spires, One World Trade Center’s 408-foot spire still makes the 1,368 foot tall building come out on top with a total 1,776 feet. Nonetheless, staying in the penthouse of the 1,646 foot tall 175 Park, with its higher roof, will make you feel like you’re at the top of the heap.

A lot of attention has been captured by the West Side in the past few years, mostly centered around Hudson Yards. With giants Google, Apple, Facebook, and Amazon all snapping up office space nearby, the area has been dubbed a “tech hub.” The chart-topping supertall 175 Park will make significant strides in turning attention back to the East Side, and its proximity to Grand Central will cement that momentum. That, of course, was the goal of the East Midtown rezoning in the first place. The building’s 2.1 million square feet of office space, comprising floors 7 through 63, will provide attractive new digs for the right tenant, along with the desirable amenity of direct access to Grand Central Terminal.

10. It proves that people want to invest in New York’s future

I get it. The Coronavirus has fundamentally changed our lives, and we’re pretty down about it. Naysayers have claimed that New York City is dead, it’s not coming back. People will work from home now, companies will get rid of all their office space to cut costs. Some have even commented directly on Project Commodore in this vein—we’ll never need another high rise office tower, so why waste the money? Despite all the critics there will always be people that are forward thinking, people that believe in progress. When the first Grand Central was constructed in 1871, it was considered just beyond three miles from “the city”—as maps often measured out from City Hall as New York’s center. Cornelius Vanderbilt had the foresight to locate his station in a location where the city would eventually grow to surround it. From the modern viewpoint, Grand Central seems like an essential part of the fabric of the city, yet when the Depot first opened I’m sure some just considered it up in the boonies.

Despite the negativity of some, it is hardly outlandish for people today to prepare for New York’s future, or at least what they hope it will be. I think it is good to know that the people building this future don’t for a minute believe that New York is dead. We are still under Corona’s shadow, and it is understandable for many of us to have difficulty seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. A raging pandemic changed the fundamentals of how we lived and worked in a very short time, but the nine years it will take for 175 Park to come to fruition is more than sufficient for the city to rise again. After all, SOM and the project team have specifically stated that they are proud of their creation, and are “looking to the future.” Perhaps we all need just a little bit of that optimism.

The next step for 175 Park is the city’s Uniform Land Use Review Process (ULURP), which is expected to begin by the end of this year. If approved, make-ready work would commence in 2022, and the existing Grand Hyatt would be demolished over an 18-month period starting in 2023. Both transit improvements and the construction of the skyscraper would start in 2024, which is expected to take just under four years. Target for the building to be fully completed and occupied is 2030. Hard hats are already a plenty along Park Avenue these days, and this project is expected to create 24,700 construction jobs.

In all, I think that 175 Park will make an interesting addition to the Grand Central area. There will always be folks that are against it—in fact the Municipal Art Society doesn’t seem to be a big fan of the skyscraper, with the opinion that it would be a better fit for Dubai than next to the Terminal. Yet in some ways I feel that the time to complain about skyscrapers next to Grand Central would have been before One Vanderbilt went up. To me, having a second skyscraper rise on the other side feels like it will bring symmetrical balance.

In terms of style, it is nonsensical for anyone to think that we’d be building anything today in the classical revival styles of yesteryear. Beaux arts designs may have suited the trust fund babies of the Gilded Age, but they’re hardly the aesthetic of today. Glass has always been an important material in construction, but it wasn’t until more modern production methods that it became a feasible building material on a large scale. Glass breakage was a serious issue for train sheds, and Grand Central’s windows were all made of dated wire mesh glass for stability. But now there is glass of every variety and shape, strong enough to handle harsh environments and be a key material used in all sorts of developments. Some may hate the look of contemporary architecture’s glass structures, but they can be energy efficient and allow natural light to become an integral portion of the design. In 175 Park’s case, the glass will allow one to see through that building to reveal the landmark that is Grand Central. The skyscraper is well designed, its woven lattice structure is aesthetically pleasing and appears more organic and less like a rudimentary glass box. Coupled with the transit improvements and the new terraces, I’m excited to see this project come to fruition.

If I’m still alive and blogging in nine years, let’s have a party on the new Grand Central Terrace, shall we?

Claim: The M42 substation that powered the Terminal opened when Grand Central did in 1913.

Truth: The original electric power conversion substation was located at 50th Street and was moved underneath the Graybar Building in 1929 so that the air rights could be sold to build the Waldorf Astoria.

About ten stories below the ground, deep underneath Grand Central lies its basement, known by the top-secret-sounding name M42. The designation refers to the basement itself, not the substations (of which there were two), but in public consciousness they are synonymous. The name is more modern in nature, as no historical texts use this designation for the supposedly secretive place. Initially the small space was used for two boilers that heated the Terminal during the colder months. Once the railroad signed an agreement with the Waldorf Astoria in 1929, however, they quickly enacted a plan to move the unsightly substation above ground at 50th Street. The small underground space was greatly expanded by digging out a large section lying directly underneath the Graybar Building. Equipment from the old substation was painstakingly dismantled, lowered to track level, transported underground, and then lowered further again to arrive at the new location. The largest size rotary of 4,000 kW weighed 68 tons, and required about 90 days to take apart, move and then reassemble and install.

Claim: There were only two spies.

Truth: The real-life operation to damage infrastructure had a total of eight spies.

Many people find the story of Nazis in Grand Central to be so believable, largely because bits of truth have been woven into the tale. Although their missions never included Grand Central as a target, there were truly two instances of spies sent from Germany to the United States in U-boats during World War II – Operations Pastorius and Magpie.

Some retellings of the Grand Central sabotage story put the spies as members of Operation Pastorius, which had eight members. This is the most plausible, as the operation did have targets in New York, including railroad infrastructure, although the primary goal was disrupting aluminum production. Other versions of the tale say there were only two spies, corresponding more closely to Operation Magpie, which occurred two years after Operation Pastorius. For Magpie, two Nazi spies were sent to Maine to gather intelligence on American factories, shipyards, testing facilities, and whether Nazi propaganda seemed to have any affect on the populace. That operation ended as similarly as the first, with one of the participants surrendering to the FBI. Neither operation included sabotaging the substation at Grand Central, but gave the tale its air of truth.

Claim: The sabotage was to prevent the United States from entering the war.

Truth: The United States had already declared war on Germany.

Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Japanese on December 7, 1941, leading to the US to declare war on Japan. Germany, as allies to Japan, declared war on the United States on the 11th of December, 1941. Later that day the United States reciprocated by declaring war on Germany.

Hitler’s pact with Japan required them to come to Japan’s aid if they were attacked by another power, but Germany was not required to declare war if Japan started the conflict. The decision by Hitler to declare war, often seen as illogical by historians, allowed the US to enter the European theatre with little opposition from the populace.

Operation Pastorius occurred in June of 1942, and Magpie in September 1944, both after Germany’s declaration of war had drawn the United States into the conflict. Hitler was said to have directly ordered some type of sabotage himself, telling the Abwehr “to finally do something in America.”

Claim: The rotary converters at M42 were a target of Nazi saboteurs.

Truth: As part of “Operation Pastorius” several American factories and railroad targets were selected for sabotage by Nazis, but neither Grand Central nor M42 were named as targets.

Many tales from World War II are indeed captivating, but none more so to Americans than the misadventures of Nazis on our own soil as part of Operation Pastorius. In June 1942 two teams of Nazis landed on American beaches at Long Island and Florida in U-boats with the goal of disrupting wartime aluminum production. Trained at a sabotage school outside Berlin, the two teams of four men each had a list of targets to attack, including factories and railroad infrastructure.

Sam Roberts, in his book Grand Central: How a Train Station Transformed America, attempts to debunk several myths but is relatively generous while addressing this subject, essentially stating that Grand Central as a target could have been plausible, considering that one of the saboteurs’ goals was to disrupt train movements. That is true to a point – there were several named primary targets, and then there were secondary goals which included causing terror by bombing Jewish-owned shops, and putting bombs in train station lockers to induce panic.

The truth of the matter is that Operation Pastorius is extremely well documented. No less than five books have been authored recounting the details, including a first hand account by leader of the Long Island team and whistleblower George John Dasch. In addition to those sources there are declassified transcripts of the testimony at the military tribunal held after all eight saboteurs were caught, as well as an extensive report from MI5, UK’s intelligence agency. Not a single one of these sources ever mentions Grand Central as a target. Hell Gate Bridge? Yes. Newark Penn Station? Yes. Horseshoe Curve? Yes. But neither Grand Central nor M42 are ever named, and neither is throwing sand on a rotary converter.

In terms of “disrupting railroads” reports and confessions are clear in what the saboteurs learned, and how they planned to enact this sabotage. It included bombs that looked like other materials, including coal and writing utensils, damaging locomotives by introducing abrasives into their lubrication systems, and derailing trains carrying raw materials to and from the essential wartime aluminum factories that were the primary goal of the operation. Cryolite and magnesium plants were also targeted due to their usage in producing aluminum. Aluminum, considered vital for national security (even to this day), was used for many wartime applications, but notably was the primary material necessary for aircraft production.

During World War II, railroads carried 90% of the military’s freight, and 98% of its personnel. As a major coal hauler, targeting the Chesapeake and Ohio would disrupt the delivery of the essential fuel that powered wartime factories. Taking out the Hell Gate Bridge would cut off New York City’s direct railroad line to factories of aircraft engines, helicopters, and submarines in Connecticut. Bombing the tracks at Newark would cut New York City’s rail link at the opposite end, as well as interfere with troop and supply movements. Some of the largest staging areas for the war effort were located alongside railroad lines in New Jersey, including Camp Kilmer for troops, and Belle Mead for supplies. Pittsburgh, which produced more steel for the war effort than all the Axis powers combined, would be blocked from reaching Philadelphia and eastern ports across the Pennsy’s main line if Horseshoe Curve was successfully damaged. In most cases the detriment of any sabotage would be short lived – bombed tracks could be quickly rebuilt, or trains could be rerouted on alternate trackage.

Claim: A simple bucket of sand could entirely disable the electrical system.

Truth: Ten rotary converters and backups would keep the system going.

When the electrical system for the New York Central was constructed, care was used to create, as described by General Electric, “[infrastructure that was] doubly insured against failure.” Power was generated at two different stations, one at Glenwood, and another at Port Morris. The rotary converters at M42 predecessor 50th Street were one of nine such substations designed to step down the high pressure 11,000 volt alternating current from the generating plants and convert it to the 600 volt direct current that powered the third rail.

When opened in 1930, the equipment housed at M42 was responsible for illuminating more than 100,000 electric lights, moving more than 650 trains daily, operating 325 elevators in 28 buildings, and supplying those buildings with heat and hot water. There were a total of ten rotary converters, three more than were located at the previous 50th Street substation. Technically the basement was split into two separate substations – the eastern portion, 1T, powered the third rail system, and the eastern half, dubbed 1L, provided the power necessary for the station and nearby buildings. In addition, there was a battery backup consisting of 160 cells, each 7 feet long and weighing over 4,500 pounds, which could each provide power to the buildings for a short time in the event of a failure.

Say you did manage to get down to M42 with a bucket and threw it into one of the rotary converters. According to Robert Lobenstein, retired General Superintendent of Power Operations at New York City Transit (which used similar rotary converters to power the subways), the sand would “likely destroy the brushes on both the AC and DC sides of the rotary, and rough up the commutators and slip rings. If somehow the sand got into the bearing caps, the machine would be rendered useless until parts were replaced and sand was flushed from the oil reservoirs.” He notes that materials other than sand thrown into an operating rotary could potentially lead to a massive “flashover” that would knock the saboteur off their feet and result in “a short circuit on the DC side leading to a ring of fire on the commutator, destroying coils and throwing molten lead solder around the room.”

Although temporary damage to the rotary from the sand was likely, it was also possible that if not enough sand was thrown into the machine it could have just spun off and kept going. Whatever the result, (even in the case of a major flashover) capable railroad employees could dismantle the massive machinery and replace any fried parts with spares or items that they fabricated, eventually restoring the rotary to service.

Remember, though, M42 had a total of ten rotaries. A bucket of sand would only take out a single one, so at most you’ve only succeeded in reducing the output capacity of the substation. All five of the rotary converters used to power the third rail had a total capacity of 16,500 kW, and before being moved to M42, the converters at the previous substation had a slightly lesser combined capacity of 14.500 kW. And when that substation was first put into service it only had a 6,000 kW capacity. The trains had before and could again operate with reduced capacity. Losing one converter, even if it was one of the larger 4,000 kW machines, would not cause a serious detrimental affect on the system.

Ultimately, in order to completely halt traffic through the Terminal you would need more than one bucket of sand. All four saboteurs, with a bucket of sand each, would greatly reduce capacity, but still wouldn’t completely disable the system. They’d have to invite a fifth friend to go play in the sandbox with them.

Claim: Taking out M42 would cripple all train movement in the Northeast.

Truth: M42 was a small piece of a larger electrification network, and most trains would operate as normal.

Grand Central and the lines running from it were part of an entire electric zone – the Hudson division was electrified to Croton, a distance of 34 route miles, and the Harlem division was electrified for 24 route miles, ending at White Plains (with a total electrified trackage of 251 miles). Two generating stations provided all power to the electric zone, and nine substations converted the power and distributed it to the third rail for use by trains. Besides the substation in the basement of Grand Central, the other substations were located along the tracks at Mott Haven, Kingsbridge, Yonkers, Irvington, Ossining, Botanical Garden, Tuckahoe, and White Plains. These eight substations contained 32 total rotary converters, and provided a total capacity of 49,000 kW.

If one did manage to successfully disable the two substations at M42, there is no doubt that it would cause issues. The Terminal, as well as several nearby buildings and hotels, depended on the power from these substations. In the case of the third rail, the next closest substation – #2 at Mott Haven, approximately five and a half miles away – would attempt to back feed DC power to Grand Central. Trains would have to operate at reduced speeds as to not overload the system, meaning there is no guarantee that even trains in the station would come to a complete standstill. As the system was built with redundancy in mind, the failure of one substation should not have adversely affected the operation of the entire electric zone in normal cases. Grand Central was a special case, however, as its substation carried a heavier load than all the rest, and was located at the end of the line.

The thought that disabling M42 would cripple all trains in the Northeast is a gross over exaggeration. The “Northeast Corridor,” which some stories specifically name, is not even connected in any way to Grand Central, and would be wholly unaffected. Other sources use the terminology “Eastern Seaboard” which is also entirely incorrect. The only place that would potentially feel any affect would be Grand Central itself. The remainder of the electrified zone had its own substations to keep running normally, and beyond that zone trains were operated by steam engines, which would also be unaffected by any electric sabotage.

Claim: The Nazi saboteurs that landed by U-boat were caught after they tried to check a bag at Grand Central, or were arrested in Grand Central.

Truth: The eight saboteurs were caught because one of them confessed to the FBI almost immediately after arriving on American shores, and before any sabotage was carried out.

Leader of the New York team, George John Dasch, called the FBI very soon after arriving in New York City, having taken the Long Island Rail Road from their landing point of Amagansett, on the southeast end of Long Island. Although the call was initially thought a joke, a few days later he boarded a train for Washington DC intent on meeting with the FBI in person. He described himself as, “not an American agent in the legal sense, but a fighter against Hitlerism and determined to have this mission blow up right in Hitler’s face.” Dasch maintained that he had decided to expose the mission as soon as he was asked to complete it, before even arriving in the United States. He viewed his return to Germany after living in the United States for many years a mistake, and thought the mission would be the only way he could return without raising suspicion, all while performing a heroic act to boot. Alternately, some in the FBI were skeptical and posited that Dasch only had a change of heart upon landing on American shores. Irrelevant of when he decided to talk, it was Dasch’s confession (which initially was not even believed until he showed off the large piles of cash that were provided to him to complete the mission) and the assistance of fellow Long Island landing team member Ernst Peter Burger that spoiled the plot and led to the capture of all operatives. All of the saboteurs, with the exception of Dasch and Burger, were quickly executed by electric chair after a military tribunal within two months of arriving from Germany.

The spies were not arrested in Grand Central, nor were they found because of anything they did in Grand Central – claims that differ depending on who tells the tale. Most of the spies probably never even went to Grand Central during the mission, as the New York team used the Long Island Rail Road and Penn Station. Thiel and Kerling of the Florida landing team made their way through the Grand Central, but only because they imagined direct trains from Florida were being watched, so they opted to take a roundabout journey to New York via Cincinnati. They subsequently checked in to the nearby Commodore Hotel and in truly suspenseful fashion, promptly fell asleep. Later Thiel did meet an old friend at the Terminal, at the famous information booth – the only times Grand Central is mentioned in the testimony.

Claim: One of the Nazi spies worked in Grand Central.

Truth: All of the saboteurs had lived in the United States previously, but none were employed at Grand Central.

George John Dasch was a complicated fellow. He had lived in the United States for eighteen years after illegally entering at the port of Philadelphia as a stowaway. Married to an American woman, he had been employed as a waiter in New Rochelle, a role his mother found demeaning. Even worse, Dasch had been unemployed for several months and rendered nearly penniless after becoming embroiled in a legal battle with a local labor union. This destitution made it easy for Dasch’s mother to ultimately convince him to return to Germany, with a promise that not only could a family member get him a better paying skilled job, but also with the assurance that everything at home was normal, better than normal, even, and as long as he kept to himself the Nazis would have no interest in him.

Returning to Germany directly from the United States was not possible at the time, so Dasch took a multi-week trek through Japan, China, and Russia to reach home, a trip sponsored by the German embassy. Upon return, Dasch worked for several months translating American radio broadcasts, but observed that things were not really better – he felt the populace had been rendered quasi slaves, unable to think for themselves. And contrary to his mother’s thoughts, the Nazis were quite interested in Germans having returned from the US, thinking that their familiarity with the country and language would prove an asset for sabotage missions. Being invited to participate aligned with his goal of trying to get out of Germany – under the eye of the Gestapo, attempting to flee would have been nearly impossible otherwise.

Each of the chosen saboteurs had their own unique stories, but shared the collective experience of having lived for several years in the United States working menial jobs before returning to Germany for one reason or another. Haupt was a 22 year old who came to live in Chicago as a preschooler, spoke English better than he did German, and was an American citizen. Quirin had lived in the US for 13 years, and worked as mechanic for GE in Schenectady until he was laid off during the Depression. Burger had become a naturalized American citizen, and worked in both Milwaukee and Detroit as a machinist, and later as an artist. He did a seventeen month stint in a concentration camp upon his return to Germany after writing a paper critical of the Gestapo. Heinck had come to the United States illegally, and worked odd jobs in New York City including busboy, handyman, and elevator operator. Kerling likewise worked odd jobs in the New York area, including at a meat packing facility in Brooklyn and as a handyman in Mount Kisco. Neubauer had lived in Chicago and Miami for nine years, working as a cook. He was drafted into the German army after returning home to visit family. Thiel worked as a machinist for Ford in Detroit, was a porter in New York, and performed other odd jobs throughout his journeys to Illinois, California, and Florida. None of the eight had ever worked in Grand Central or for the railroad in any capacity.

Claim: The existence of M42 was considered top-secret and only became public knowledge in the 1980s.

Truth: The New York Central Lines, and General Electric, were rather proud of the substation – photos and details of it were published in several newspapers and magazines.

If you had just managed to move an entire substation with equipment that weighed a total of 850 tons according to schedule, without damaging a thing, all while operating continuing, uninterrupted train service you’d probably be pretty proud too! When Grand Central’s electric system first went online General Electric released a promotional book called “Electricity on the New York Central” which gave descriptions of the system, the new electric locomotives, as well as the rotary converters. It contained photos of the original substation at 50th Street, as well as substation #5 at Irvington (seen above). The rotaries and where they were located was not at all a secret.

After the move, the two substations at M42 were also not a secret. The March 1930 edition of the New York Central Lines Magazine contained an article titled “Moving Terminal Power Plant Engineering Feat.” An article entitled, “Metal Roots That Feed the Living City” appeared in the April 13, 1930 edition of the New York Times, containing a picture of the substation under construction and a description of the move. June 1930’s Scientific American likewise had a story, entitled “Moving a Substation Underground.” The article contained before and after pictures, as well as thorough descriptions of the move and an explanation of the equipment found within. General Electric also had an advertisement that ran in several magazines in the 1930s boasting the new Grand Central Substation as “one of the most remarkable substations in existence.” Not only does the ad show a picture of the room, it details what equipment is in the substation, and for anyone who might be unsure as to where the substation is located, actually contains a photo at street-level of the Graybar Building and states that it is 100 feet under its sidewalk. Considering all the publicity at the time, the idea that the substation was considered classified information until the modern era is a complete fabrication.

Claim: Dasch was viewed a hero for foiling the sabotage plot.

Truth: Dasch was jailed and deported.

This one isn’t actually part of the Grand Central tale – but if for some reason you thought that Dasch would receive a hero’s welcome for exposing the saboteurs, you would be wrong. Despite promises of a presidential pardon, Dasch was jailed until the war was over and then deported to the then-partitioned Germany. He continued to seek a pardon so he could return to the United States, but it was never granted. In 1959 he wrote his own account of the events of Operation Pastorius, titled Eight Spies Against America. He moved frequently due to being seen as a traitor by his neighbors, and died in the early ’90s.

In closing, Grand Central is, of course, an important place. But it does not have to be at the forefront of every story, nor woven into every New York historical happening. There are enough legitimate tales within the walls of Grand Central to keep any storyteller busy for ages – we need not continue telling fantastic fables.

Special thanks to Bob Lobenstein for graciously sharing his knowledge with me and answering my silly “what if” questions about rotary converters!

An early horsecar on the New York and Harlem Railroad. Initial service was powered by horse, and later provided all service south of 14th Street, where locomotives were not permitted

Map of the New York & Harlem’s street railway

At Harlem, the northernmost portion of the chartered line, the New York & Harlem would meet up with the New York & Albany Railroad, providing a much-needed year-round link to the state capital (sailing up the Hudson at that time was difficult if not impossible in the winter months). Despite groundbreakings at several points along the proposed line, the New York & Albany never succeeded in creating this link. Slowly the New York & Harlem was given permission to do what the New York & Albany could not – first into Westchester County in 1840, and was later granted full rights to build to Albany in 1846. At that time the The New York & Harlem purchased the what was left of the failed road, including the land it had secured to build its line, for $35,000. Although the New York & Harlem never reached Albany – entering into an agreement with the Boston & Albany Railroad, which it met in Chatham – this trackage became the bread-and-butter of what became the Harlem Division when it was leased to the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad in 1873.

“The benefit to the City of New York, possessing as it does, the best seaport in the Union, will be incalculable.”

“Gentlemen must judge for themselves, but of one thing we are certain: the road will be built, and the most gratifying results may be anticipated.”

-Co-founder and Vice President John Mason, at the ceremonial groundbreaking of the New York & Harlem Railroad on Murray Hill in 1832.

The remainder of the New York & Harlem, which ran south of Grand Central Depot, was leased in 1897 to the Metropolitan Street Railway Company. Today’s tidbits from the archive deal with just that subject – before the lease of the street railway portion of the New York & Harlem, a letter was sent to all shareholders regarding the decision at the most recent Board of Directors meeting. Shareholders were instructed to sign and return a paper stating that they approved of the decision. Below is a scan of an original copy of this mailing, which this particular shareholder never responded to.

The famous “Rut Milk” train passes through Mott Haven in the 1950s. The milk trains were eventually replaced by trucks. Photo by Victor Zollinsky.

Milk depots were established at many train depots, and local farmers could bring and sell their milk, which was then transported to the city. One of the Harlem’s most famous freights was the Rutland Milk train, which brought milk to New York City from Vermont – transferring from the Rutland Railroad to the Harlem in Chatham. Every day a swap would occur where a train full of milk changed hands at Chatham, exchanged for the previous day’s empties.

Today’s random tidbit from the archive is a letter from F.T. Hopkins to William Hooker. Hopkins was a milk dealer who operated the Harlem Railroad Milk Depot in New York City. The letter is addressed to Hooker at Wing’s Station – an earlier name for Wingdale.

Borden on the Harlem Line

New York Condensed Milk Company / Eagle Brand condensed milk promotional card.

Even if the milk transported by train to the city was considered “pure” and not of the “swill” variety, it did not last very long before spoilage in the days prior to refrigeration. Condensed milk stored in cans, however, could last for years without spoiling. Not only was condensed milk transported along the Harlem, it got its start here.

There are many ways to describe Gail Borden Jr.: a perpetual wanderer, deeply religious (anecdotal evidence suggests that he bought bibles for placement on the Harlem’s trains), eccentric inventor (he scared his friends by taking them on a ride straight into a river in a self-invented amphibious wagon – the “terraqueous machine”), an endlessly stubborn optimist that never gave up. All of those traits led him from his birthplace of Norwich, New York to Kentucky, Indiana, Mississippi, Texas, Connecticut, and ultimately back to New York and the Harlem Railroad to launch his most successful invention – condensed milk.

For some time Borden had been interested in preventing food from spoilage. One of his first food related inventions was a meat biscuit, made from rendered meat and flour or potato and baked into a cracker, which could be eaten as is, or crushed into boiling water to make soup. He also experimented with preserving and concentrating fruit to make juices, and making coffee extract which took up far less space than regular coffee. Despite winning prizes for the meat biscuit, none of those endeavors were commercial successes. After debts forced him to give up on the meat biscuit and sell some of his property to pay creditors, Borden wholeheartedly pursued his milk preservation idea in Connecticut – starting a factory in Wolcottville. He eventually ran out of money and that factory closed, later replaced by a different factory in Burrville. Unfortunately, the Financial Panic of 1857 marked the end of that venture as well.

The first successful condensed milk factory, Wassaic, New York

The original Borden factory today, now occupied by the Pawling Corporation, which manufactures architectural products.

A chance encounter on a train ride, however, brought Gail Borden and financer Jeremiah Milbank together, and Milbank found promise in Borden’s idea. With Milbank’s money, Borden founded the New York Condensed Milk Company in Wassaic, New York, right next the the tracks of the Harlem Railroad. Borden’s tenacious spirit had finally paid off this time around, as his product became a commercial success. Another factory was constructed along the Harlem in Brewster to keep up with demand – and condensed milk became a staple for members of the Union Army during the Civil War.

After Borden’s successes he moved back to Texas, but upon death was returned by train to New York. He forever remains next to the Harlem Line, buried in Woodlawn Cemetery with a large monument that bears the following quote:
“I tried and failed. I tried again and again and succeeded.”

Borden’s final resting place at Woodlawn Cemetery