mott haven – I Ride The Harlem Line https://www.iridetheharlemline.com Art, history, railroad, & photography adventures from Harlem & beyond. Sat, 01 Jul 2023 20:57:27 +0000 en-US hourly 1 Through the Lens of Anthony Angel: New York City Rail Infrastructure in the 1950s https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2022/11/29/through-the-lens-of-anthony-angel-new-york-city-rail-infrastructure-in-the-1950s/ https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2022/11/29/through-the-lens-of-anthony-angel-new-york-city-rail-infrastructure-in-the-1950s/#comments Tue, 29 Nov 2022 17:43:48 +0000 https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/?p=13106 As a photographer, explorer, and now-New Yorker I’ve found myself curiously drawn to the work of Angelo Rizzuto. Anthony Angel, as he called himself, was a street photographer who captured the city from the late 1940s until his death in 1967. His body of work was largely overlooked by the fine art world, seen more as snapshots from a madman with a camera than any sort of photographic art. Yet from a historical perspective, the images resonated with me.

Angel created a nearly 60,000 image strong visual time capsule of New York City—his photos of the old Pennsylvania Station, of Mott Haven yard, and of the dismantling of the elevated structures carrying subways over Manhattan show how things used to be. I am intrigued by the little details of streetscapes and of people waiting for trains, and wonder how he reached some of his lofty vantage points—he must surely have managed the cupola of the New York Central Building to capture the top of Grand Central before the Pan Am building was constructed, and scaled public housing projects in Marble Hill to photograph the old station there.

Angel also seemed captivated by humans in unsuspecting or even vulnerable positions, and there were times that I, as the viewer, was slightly distraught in gazing upon the voyeuristic images, moments that perhaps should never have been captured at all. From men gazing through peepholes at live nude shows, passed out individuals being unceremoniously hefted into paddywagons, or women tearfully attempting to hide from the world, Angel captures an underbelly of New York that I am unaccustomed to seeing.

A contact sheet of photographs from September 1959. Photos include the 59th Street subway and Pennsylvania Station.

That dark line of thought becomes even murkier when one learns more about the man himself. It is hard to deny that Anthony Angel, although clearly an intelligent and talented individual, suffered from mental illness. Institutionalized for a suicide attempt and later discharged from the army for medical reasons, Angel was found by both to suffer from delusions (“dementia praecox, paranoid type” may have been diagnosed today as schizophrenia). He was ritualistic—only venturing out from his apartment at 2 PM every day to capture his photos, later returning to process film and haphazardly generate contact sheets. Despite his obsession with chronological organization, the finer details—removing the dust and hair from the negatives, or even making sure they were not backwards or upside down, were lacking. When he wasn’t out photographing, Angel was creating patent applications for commercially useless inventions, or writing hateful, often antisemitic, letters to governors, senators, supreme court judges, and even the FBI. He believed that the communists, perverts, corrupt judges, or whatever demon du jour was out to get him—paranoid delusions fully on display.

Although photography may have been an outlet for these delusions, Angel’s work reflected his often neurotic mindset. His surreptitious captures of women and of people from afar mark him as an awkward outsider, a recluse unwilling or simply unable to genuinely interact with others, yet inserting himself into their sometimes private moments. His comic-strip-style printed sheets of image sequences seem more cinematic than photographic, with Angel playing the scene director, completely detached from the mayhem of the street fight in front of him. Even his array of self portraits, often captured at the end of each roll of film, reflect the inner turmoil of his psyche—alternating between goofy to serious to pained and even enraged.

Self portraits of Angelo Rizzuto, aka Anthony Angel

Despite the problematic nature of the individual, Angel’s captures are undeniably valuable for those wanting a glimpse of New York nearly seventy years ago, especially the railroading infrastructure that appeared in so many photos. But what exactly was it that drew him to these places? Were his visits to Grand Central and wanderings along Park Avenue simply a byproduct of living in close proximity? Was it only fortuity that Angel’s paranoid letter writing spree coincided with the final years of Pennsylvania Station, which he stopped to photograph while on the way to his post box across the street? Or was there some genuine interest in the subject matter—a recollection of his youth where his father served as a construction contractor for the Union Pacific railroad? Beyond his stated intentions to publish a modern day sequel to Stokes’ Iconography of Manhattan Island, any further insight into his motivations or artistic intention were taken to his grave.

A small fraction of Angel’s work has been digitized by the Library of Congress and can be previewed online. Much of the credit for this work coming to light belongs to Michael Lesy, who encountered the images at the LOC decades ago and compiled the majority of the information we know today about Angelo Rizzuto.

Special thanks to Barbara Orbach Natanson and Jan Grenci at LOC’s Prints and Photographs Division, who were kind enough to share some of the contact sheets from the collection as I hunted from railroad images not yet digitized.

]]> https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2022/11/29/through-the-lens-of-anthony-angel-new-york-city-rail-infrastructure-in-the-1950s/feed/ 2 The Lost Train Station of the Bronx – 138th Street, Mott Haven https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2015/05/21/the-lost-train-station-of-the-bronx-138th-street-mott-haven/ https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2015/05/21/the-lost-train-station-of-the-bronx-138th-street-mott-haven/#comments Thu, 21 May 2015 15:41:57 +0000 http://www.iridetheharlemline.com/?p=10141 If there seems to be one constant with we humans, it is that we spend much time tearing down vestiges of our past to make room for the supposed future. We build bigger, taller, and seek the more modern, or the more profitable. Many venerable buildings have met the wrecking ball, and although some are well remembered, such as New York’s Pennsylvania Station, others are largely forgotten. One such forgotten New York City gem is the New York Central’s 138th Street station. Upon construction it was considered one of New York City’s most notable examples of Richardsonian Romanesque architecture. Featuring a beautiful clock tower, and ornate terra cotta detailing, this is one place that is definitely worth remembering.

In the northeast, Romanesque style train stations were mostly associated with the Boston and Albany Railroad, which designed most of their main line stations in the style (for example, Chatham, which was a joint Harlem Division station), and many by pioneer architect Henry Hobson Richardson. However, the New York Central did have a few – Richardson proteges Shepley, Rutan, and Coolidge designed the Dobbs Ferry, Irvington, and Tarrytown stations located on the Hudson Line. The railroad also hired Robert Henderson Robertson to design stations at Canandaigua (extant, but heavily modified), Schenectady (demolished), and most notably, 138th Street.

R.H. Robertson was born in Philadelphia in 1849, and graduated Rutgers College in 1869. He started his architecture career working in the office of Henry Sims in Philadelphia, later moving to New York and working in the office of George B. Post. By 1871 he established his own architecture firm in New York City, designing a wide array of buildings from libraries to churches, as well as banks, train stations and private homes. Over the years he worked in various styles, including Queen Anne and Victorian Gothic, but by 1880 became heavily influenced by Richardson’s Romanesque revival style. Robertson was, however, described as “[taking] up the style in his own way.” His prolific New York City career led him to design various buildings that are today designated landmarks, including the Lincoln Building at Union Square, and Fire Engine Company 55‘s firehouse in Little Italy.

    
138th Street Station shortly after construction. Original photos from the Andrew Dickson White Architectural Photograph Collection, Cornell University Library. Photo restoration work by HarlemLine.com

Constructed in 1886, Robertson’s design for 138th Street was a 2 story brick building with peak tile roof, at a cost of $65,000 (about $1.6 million today). Typical of the Richardsonian Romanesque revival style, the building featured various arches, squat columns, cylindrical towers, and rusticated stone. Adding to the character of the building was a large clock tower, 80 feet high, and catching the eyes of all who passed by. Originally the station was at grade level, with two tracks crossing 138th Street, however upgrades were soon needed.

With the railroad’s steadily-growing service, and new requirements set forth by the US Army in regards to clearance for ships around New York City, significant upgrades were made to the right of way in the south Bronx and northern Manhattan in the 1890s. Primary among the changes was a viaduct raising the tracks above 106th Street to 149th Street, a new bridge crossing the Harlem River, expanding the tracks from two to four across the river and allowing better clearance for ships passing below, and adjusting the track curvature in the Bronx. The 138th Street Station was unfortunately in the way of these plans, and dealing with the station became an additional part of the project. Then was, of course, a rosy time, with railroads at their height and what appeared to be a never ending stream of profits. New York Central brass gave the go-ahead to draw up plans for the nearly insurmountable task of moving the large station without harming its delicate brickwork and intricate terra-cotta designs.

 
The moving of the great station, images published by the Scientific American in 1894.


Diagram of the station after moving, with new platforms.

The railroad hired B. C. Miller, who was no stranger to moving the near impossible – having relocated the 5000 ton Brighton Beach Hotel a few years previously. Despite being lighter than the hotel, the station posed more difficulty as its weight was very unevenly distributed. The tower alone – 19 feet square and 80 feet high – was estimated at 500 tons, and the entire station about 1200 tons. Using a series of fourteen jack screws, nineteen men gradually turned them in unison, timed by the sound of a bell. With each turn the station very gradually moved, taking an entire week to be situated in its new location. Not everyone was impressed with the move, however. In an article discussing the work of Robertson, the author described the changes as “[having] been carried out with a quite ruthless disregard of or insensibility to the merits of the work, and have destroyed or mutilated the dependencies that were integral parts of the composition.” Likely the author refers to the new porches and walkways erected around the building, allowing passengers to access the newly elevated track platforms from the second story of the structure.

 
 

New York City’s staff photographer Percy Sperr captured these images of the station, circa 1935. From the collection of the New York Public Library.

By the late 1950s, the cash-strapped New York Central looked to sell many of its passenger stations, and 138th Street station was one of several on the Harlem Line to be put up for sale (most prominently, Mount Vernon was sold in 1959). By 1964 a buyer – Golden Eagle Inc – had materialized. A real estate development company run by John A. Dilliard, Golden Eagle found value in the 56,517 square feet of land attached to the sale, but not the station itself. (Dilliard attempted to buy land on both sides of 138th Street near the station, which later led to legal battles with the bankrupt Penn Central and the City of New York) New York Central’s employee magazine Headlight paints a rosy picture of the sale of the “historic landmark” in its June 1964 edition, calling the depot “the finest and most complete way station in the country” upon construction. The more realistic depiction, however, made the front page of the New York Times on Sunday, April 26, 1964: “Picturesque Depot to Be Razed in Bronx.” For reportedly $170,000 (approximately $1.3 million in today’s dollars) the New York Central parted with the old station, and it was torn down shortly thereafter.

 

Trains at 138th Street in 1958.

 
138th Street in photo and in paint – Alfred D Crimi painted this rendition of the station circa 1950.

 
Alfred C Loonam photographs of 138th Street, circa 1955. Photos from the Museum of the City of New York.

Whether anyone mourned the loss of this great station is unknown. Its destruction came right on the heels of the loss of the great Pennsylvania Station, though it was a year shy of the establishment of the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission. Though there is no doubt that had the Commission existed they would have bestowed this noteworthy station with a Landmark title, it is uncertain if anyone would have truly fought the railroad if it pressed for sale and demolition, as many did for Grand Central. Even with the loss of its grand depot, 138th Street remained a stop on the line, with a small replacement station constructed by the Central. Eventually all stations were to receive high-level platforms to accommodate the line’s new “Metropolitan” MU cars, and the station’s curvature and tight space deemed it not worthy of such an upgrade. The November 28, 1972 timetable is the last to list the 138th Street, and shortly after even the small replacement station was demolished. With a subsequent track realignment, little trace of a station ever being here remains. It seems that although 138th Street could survive one major landscape change, it couldn’t survive a second.

Other than among the biggest rail buffs, 138th Street station has been largely forgotten, with information about it hard to come by. Several name changes over the years no doubt adds to the confusion and enigma surrounding this place. Although the architect always knew it at 138th Street (it was this name that was designed in terra cotta on the station’s front), many (including the railroad) referred to the station in the 1800s and early 1900s by the surrounding neighborhood’s name, Mott Haven. The IRT established a subway station across the street which also went by the name Mott Haven, but a local businessman petitioned the subway in 1921 to change the station name due to confusion between it and the next stop of Mott Avenue (today’s 149th – Grand Concourse station). Following suit, the name Mott Haven fell out of favor for even the New York Central’s station, but the railroad was also known to simply call it The Bronx. After spending long hours searching all three names of this station (including examining rolls of microfilm for property records at the Bronx Business Center) and slowly gathering an array of tidbits, I was able to weave what seems to be the most complete history to date of this lost station. Although the station itself might be gone, there is still a story to be told – one of 138th Street’s current state and future.


In Bill Volkmer’s widely-forwarded slideshows of NH locomotives, you’ll find this shot at 138th Street

Over its 184-year history, the New York and Harlem Railroad has certainly seen stations come and go. Much of the railroad’s abandoned former right of way in Columbia County, for example, has reverted back to wilderness. However, it is hard to imagine any part of New York City proper reverting back to the wilds. In some ways, though, 138th Street did return to that state. After the great depot was knocked down in 1964, nothing else was ever constructed on the land south of 138th Street. Once the station itself was finally eliminated in 1973, and the underpass covered up, the slices of land next to the tracks on both sides of 138th sat dormant. Abandoned, to become slowly reclaimed by nature (and at some point reclaimed in property ownership by the City of New York). Around 2008, however, various individuals and groups including For A Better Bronx and More Gardens! noticed the land on the south side and worked to create a community garden there. By the winter of 2009, La Finca del Sur was founded on the site of the former station platform and exit, and the garbage and high weeds were gradually removed from the lot. In their stead came planting beds and trees. Largely led by Latina and Black women, the farm has plots open for members to grow their own plants, and occasionally holds farmers markets and events for the community. Members have the ability to further their knowledge through practical applications in the garden, as well as taking classes at the NY Botanical Garden in subjects such as soil testing, composting, and pruning.

You’ll find a wide and varied amount of things growing in La Finca: sunflowers for phytoremediation, plums, apples, pears, peaches, grapes, marigolds for attracting insects, roses, strawberries, onions, mint, garlic, cilantro, lavender, basil, tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, and more. Metro-North trains rumble by every few minutes, and the ground underfoot vibrates with the passage of a subway train below. Among the planting beds are various grates that lead directly down to the subway tracks, and the occasional message from the platform’s PA speakers can be just barely heard. The grates serve as an emergency egress from the subway, but are old and rusted, and now surrounded by protective orange fencing erected by the MTA.

While the loss of such a monument as 138th Street is quite heartbreaking, from the ashes has slowly risen this farm – something that the people of the South Bronx can be proud of. Many of the people I met at La Finca were unaware of the grand station that once stood there, but perhaps now that the history of this place is known, the legacy of 138th Street will live on.

  
 
  
 
   
  

Special thanks to Marilyn Ibach from the Prints and Photographs Division at the Library of Congress and Nancy Ortiz-Surun, Gloria Weiss, and Wilfred Gonzalez at La Finca del Sur for their contributions to this post and my research.

La Finca del Sur is always looking for donations and volunteers – if you can spare a hand, drop them a line at infosbufc@gmail.com.

]]> https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2015/05/21/the-lost-train-station-of-the-bronx-138th-street-mott-haven/feed/ 21 Keeping the trains clean – A look back at Mott Haven Yard https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2015/03/13/keeping-the-trains-clean-a-look-back-at-mott-haven-yard/ https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2015/03/13/keeping-the-trains-clean-a-look-back-at-mott-haven-yard/#comments Fri, 13 Mar 2015 20:06:08 +0000 http://www.iridetheharlemline.com/?p=10041 Early last month some alarms were raised about an Amtrak traveler that rode from Penn Station to Albany that was infected with measles. Any poor sap riding that train who failed the common-sense milestone of getting vaccinated could potentially have been exposed. Occurrences such as these in the modern day are far less common, but in the early 1900’s health became a subject in the forefront of train riders’ minds – especially when trains often carried the (generally perceived) “dirty” immigrants out west. Today Mott Haven is only a small yard facility operated by Metro-North, located where the Hudson Line diverges from the Harlem and New Haven Lines. Historically, however, the yard was far larger and played more of an important role for trains entering and exiting New York City – and for many years it was the major point where train cars were kept clean and disease-free. A 1905 issue of Harper’s Weekly featured an article about how railroads prevented the spread of disease on their train equipment, and featured the cleaning crews of Mott Haven, which provides an intriguing look back at the Mott Haven facilities of yesteryear.

The Mott Haven wye in 1908
The Mott Haven wye area in 1908, note the turntable and large yard area for storing trains.

A modern look at the Mott Haven wye
A modern look at the Mott Haven wye, much of the infrastructure from above is long gone.

In addition to having mechanical shops, water towers, a turntable and more, at Mott Haven, all types of passenger cars were cleaned and sterilized with the modern technologies of the day. Train conductors reports were reviewed for any mentions of ill people or deaths, wherein that car would be taken out of service and cleaned. The car would be sealed and treated for four hours with formaldehyde gas. This procedure would also be used every time immigrants had occupied the car. A normal train car, however, would have the floors scrubbed and the carpets and furnishings cleaned up. Scrubbing of every nook and cranny of the car occurred once every three months, except in the winter, when that happened once a week. Dust was removed with compressed air weekly, and after each journey the lavatory would be scrubbed and treated with muriatic acid. Four times a year the floors and seat legs were repainted, and every year the carpets and seatback cushions were removed and re-dyed.

A sleeping car which carried an ill person is prepped for formaldehyde gas treatment
A sleeping car which carried an ill person is prepped for formaldehyde gas treatment

Cleaning the interior of a car with compressed air
Cleaning the interior of a car with compressed air

A crew of cleaners stationed at Mott Haven would enter each car when it arrived and remove all portable items, like the aisle carpet, bottoms and backs of seats, curtains, mattresses and linens. Blankets would be treated with compressed air and freshened on a rack in the sun. Soiled blankets would of course, be washed. Unless outwardly dirty, blankets would only be fully washed every six months. Linens would be boiled, and carpets, mattresses and curtains would also be blown with compressed air. Cars were cleaned on special platforms at Mott Haven, which had pipes and hoses for the compressed air spread throughout. Lastly, wood would be polished and oiled, as was the exterior of the car.

Removing the mattresses from the sleeping cars
Removing the mattresses from the sleeping cars

Cleaning the dust from bedding with compressed air at Mott Haven
Cleaning the dust from bedding with compressed air at Mott Haven

Cleaning the blankets and allowing them to air dry
Cleaning the blankets and allowing them to air dry

Although the cleaning methods used seem rather ineffective to modern ears, this was the general process used by the New York Central in 1905. Thankfully at that time they didn’t have to worry about things such as Ebola – though the main concern seemed to be the spread of tuberculosis among train passengers.

Mott Haven in the 1960s
Mott Haven in the 1960s. Photo by Charles Warren.

Eventually both Grand Central Depot and Station became too small to accommodate the ever-increasing amount of trains operating into the city, and thus Mott Haven was often used as a storage point for trains. With the construction of the Terminal and its plentiful tracks, the Mott Haven facility certainly lost some of its stature. Nonetheless, it retained a laundry and mechanical department, among other services, until the 1960s. Reflecting the ever-changing landscape of railroad technology, the turntable was at some point removed for a switching tower, which still stands (albeit in poor shape), though it is merely used for storage today. The wye is still an important part of the railroad, and used to accommodate interline Harlem and New Haven Line trains going direct to Yankee Stadium. On most days, however, you’ll find one of Metro-North’s GP35s in wait, kept company by a small population of the Bronx’s feral cats.

Hudson Line tracks and the old MO tower at night
Hudson Line tracks and the old MO tower under the yard’s bright nighttime floodlights

]]> https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2015/03/13/keeping-the-trains-clean-a-look-back-at-mott-haven-yard/feed/ 7 Random photos from a weekend full of trains… https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2012/05/14/random-photos-from-a-weekend-full-of-trains/ https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2012/05/14/random-photos-from-a-weekend-full-of-trains/#comments Mon, 14 May 2012 18:03:22 +0000 http://www.iridetheharlemline.com/?p=6924 I hope everyone had a spectacular weekend… Although I managed to get slightly sunburnt, we certainly had some lovely weather! Maybe you even partook in some of the events for National Train Day in Grand Central? I saw quite a few of you there, apologies to the folks I never got a chance to meet up with and say hi.

My weekend was quite full with Train Day festivities, as well as my first photographic foray to the foreign territory that is the Hudson Line. At Poughkeepsie I achieved the milestone of my 100th Metro-North station photographed. When you think about it, I mostly take pictures of stations, not trains (though stations do look better when there are trains present). But there was certainly an exception to that over the weekend, as I managed to snap quite an array of trains in various places along all three lines. Want to know how my weekend was? It is far easier to show you in photographs than it is in words – so here is a little bit of randomness from the past few days.

  
 
  
 
  
 
  

]]> https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2012/05/14/random-photos-from-a-weekend-full-of-trains/feed/ 4 Friday’s From the Historical Archive: Old Maps and Station Names https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2010/04/09/fridays-from-the-historical-archive-old-maps-and-station-names/ https://www.iridetheharlemline.com/2010/04/09/fridays-from-the-historical-archive-old-maps-and-station-names/#comments Fri, 09 Apr 2010 14:49:21 +0000 http://www.iridetheharlemline.com/?p=2211 Some of the very first things that were added when I created the Historical Archives were maps I found thanks to the Library of Congress. It was interesting to see the network of railroads in the country grow in size exponentially through the 1800’s, and then later in the mid 1900’s crash and quite a few disappeared. There was one map, however, that caught my attention.

That map lists a station along the Harlem Line: Golding’s Bridge. Was it a typo? In the back of my mind I had always wondered about the apostrophe thing. Is Goldens Bridge written properly with an apostrophe, or without? And now, a new question. What is Golding’s Bridge? For whom was the town named, and does the bridge still exist? Why are other stations on this map, or other maps also listed with apostrophes? Brewster’s, Pawling’s? The map also lists quite a few stations that have different names today, such as Hart’s Corners, Whitlockville, and Bains.

In my endeavor to find the answer to at least the apostrophe question, I consulted with the town historian of Lewisboro, of which Goldens Bridge is a part of. She unfortunately told me that she could only “add to the confusion.”

I’m not exactly sure where the original bridge that gave your hamlet its name first stood, but it spanned the Croton River, which is now under the reservoir. The bridge may have belonged to a gentleman called Golding, Goulding, or Colden. I have heard all of these names. That bridge had to have been an important crossing to get to what is now Somers, and points west. It most certainly dates to the Revolution or before.

In 2003, Metro North dropped the apostrophe from the name of the station. Almost all official timetables and signage refer to the station as Goldens Bridge. However, old signage with the apostrophe does still exist. The station listing on M-7 trains still has the apostrophe. Most official town signage also does not have the apostrophe. However the Fire Department for the town still uses it. Google maps still uses it. It is a name still in transition.

Many towns and names along the Harlem Line went through similar transitions. Spellings were changed, apostrophes were dropped. Brewster’s and Pawling’s are both evidence of that. Some names changed completely. So let’s take a little tour through the area and see how some of these names came to be, shall we?

Bronx – Named for Jonas Bronck, who purchased the land in 1639. Originally known as The Bronck’s, in reference to the family, at some point over time the spelling evolved into the current form.
Mott Haven – Named for Jordan Mott, who had an ironworks that opened in 1828. He purchased the land from the Morris family.
Morrisania – Named for the Morris family. Lewis Morris was a signer of the Declaration of Independence. Gouverneur Morris was also a prominent member of that family.
Woodlawn – Originally two words, but was condensed into one by 1870.
Mount Vernon – Named for George Washington’s home. Original name was Hunt’s Bridge.
Fleetwood – Named for the ancestral home of John Stevens.
Scarsdale – Named for the ancestral home of Caleb Heathcote.
Hartsdale – Named after Eleazar Hart, who donated the land. Was previously known as Hart’s Corners.
Bedford Hills – Originally named only Bedford, the Hills was added to the name in 1910.
Katonah – Had several previous names, first was Mechanicsville. Later changed to Whitlockville in 1830, for the Whitlock family. Later renamed Katonah from the native word Ketatonah, which translates to Great Mountain.
Purdys – Named for Daniel Pardieus, his grandson Isaac donated the land to the railroad in 1844.
Brewster – Named for brothers James and Walter Brewster, and at the time was known as Brewster’s.
Dykemans – Named for Joseph Dykeman.
Patterson – Named for Matthew Paterson, older maps list the name with only one ‘t’
Pawling – Named for the Paulding (possibly Pauling) family.
Wingdale – Named for the Wing family. Jackson Wing operated an Inn which opened in 1806. Previous names include Wing’s Station, and South Dover.
Harlem Valley – Wingdale – Harlem Valley comes from the name of the railroad (New York & Harlem). Used to be two stops, State Hospital (actual name of the hospital was Harlem Valley State Hospital) and Wingdale (mentioned above). Wingdale station was eliminated, and later Metro-North combined the two and the name.
Millerton – named for Sydney G. Miller, who was an engineer and contractor for the construction between Dover Plains and Chatham.
Craryville – Named for Peter Crary. Station was previously known as Bains, or Bains Corners for hotel owner Peter Bain.
Martindale – Named for John Martin.
Philmont – Previous name was Phillips Mountain, but was later condensed into Philmont. Named for George Phillips, who built a dam and a mill in the area.
Chatham – Named for Lord Pitts, Earl of Chatham, England.

That list does not mention every station on the current Harlem Line, or the rail line in the past. I am specifically mentioning stations that were named after people, or had a name change of some sort. Apostrophes in names often originated because the land was named after, or originally belonged, to a specific family or person.

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