Kevin and Mitch Go To the Beach, Part Two

In 1984, Tony Carey sang about “The First Day of Summer,” and Mitch Waxman and I thought that on the first day of summer thirty years later, it would be appropriate to seek out the spot that many New Yorkers think about when the subject of summer comes up, Jacob Riis Park and the sandbar of which it is a part, the Rockaway Peninsula.

Rockaway, depending on what translation is used, means “sandy place” or “place of our people.” A small coterie of Canarsie Indians occupied Rockaway Peninsula until European invasions began in the 16th century; by 1640 it was under Dutch control. Its story as a resort begins in 1833 when a wealthy group calling themselves the Rockaway Association purchased beachfront property from the Cornell family, which owned much of Rockaway from colonial times, and built the Marine Hotel, which was patronized by many of the era’s bright lights including Washington Irving, Henry W. Longfellow and assorted Vanderbilts; the hotel lasted only until it burned down in 1864, but another of the Rockaway Association’s projects remains intact today, the turnpike they built the length of the peninsula from today’s Riis Park to Far Rockaway… today’s Rockaway Beach Boulevard.

Things were going, shall we say, swimmingly. A steam railroad — the precursor to today’s IND A train — reached Rockaway Park (Beach 116th Street) in the 1880s. In 1896 the Seaside Amusement Company officially opened its doors to the public and renamed itself Playland in 1901; it was run by the Geist family for most of its existence. Yes, things were fine indeed. Then, of course, the Irish arrived.

Just kidding. According to The Wave, Rockaway Park’s community newspaper, “a local map dated in 1886 revealed examples of some of the following Irish surnames in Seaside: O’Brien, Norton, Curley, McLain, Farrell, Fannagan, Coghlan, Griffin and Ryan. As early as 1881 there were 48 bars in Seaside [a small section of Rockaway centered around Beach 102nd Street], most of which were operated by Irish owners…After World War II, Old Irish Town had a marvelous rebirth. In the 1950′s, Playland was the center of attraction. The main attractions in Seaside now were the many bars in the area. These included O’Gara’s Sligo House, The White House, Harbor Rest, Maher’s, Smyth’s, the Park Inn, the Mermaid Inn, Boggiano’s and McWalter’s, the Last Stop Inn, Riordan’s, Gildea’s, and the Irish Circle. In the name of civic improvement, less than a decade later, most of the section was torn down. Hi-rise apartments, a sewage disposal plant, shopping centers and parking lots, replaced the bungalows, bars, hotels and gaiety of Old Irishtown.”

In 1932, New York City Parks Commissioner Robert Moses deemed it proper to create a Jones Beach for the hoi polloi, a means for the masses to enjoy a suburban style beach without the hip-hooray and ballyhoo, the screaming barkers and roaring roller coasters of Coney Island. He found such a space on the western end of the Rockaway peninsula, on the former locale of the Rockaway Naval Air Station; a few buildings from the naval station are still standing, as shown in Part One. In 1932 the Gil Hodges-Marine Park Bridge had yet to be constructed (it opened in 1937) and the only nearby vehicular access to Moses’ new park was via the Cross Bay Bridge over Jamaica Bay. There was and remains no subway access; when the park opened in 1932, the closest approach of any train was the Long Island Rail Road terminal in Rockaway Park, Beach 116th street, a good 40 blocks away. Buses and autos would be the prime movers. Moses made sure a vast parking lot was built adjacent to the new park, enough to hold 5000 cars, big enough to launch and land small airplanes.

It was decided to name the park after a muckraking Queens resident. Danish-born crusading journalist and photographer Jacob Riis (1849-1914) made his home in Richmond Hill, Queens, beginning in 1886. In 1887, Riis photographed the squalid, inhumane conditions prevalent in New York City’s tenements, and his 1890 book “How The Other Half Lives” has become an influential text to the present day. His cause was taken up by Police Commissioner Theodore Roosevelt, who encouraged legislation that would help ease the burden of NYC’s poorest. Additionally, as one of the most famous proponents of the newly practicable casual photography, he is considered one of the fathers of photography due to his very early adoption of flash in photography.

A bust of Riis was originally placed in a prominent position on the Riis Park boardwalk when the park originally opened. It was stolen in 1964 and never recovered. However, in 2011, students of the Aquinas Honor Society at Immaculate Conception School in Jamaica Estates raised $10,000 for a new bust by Brooklyn artist David Ostro.

Unfortunately, restoration has not gone so well at Riis Park’s original 1932 bathhouse, once the centerpiece of the park and beach area. In the 1990s $20 million of reconstruction work commenced, along with asbestos removal, electrical upgrades, window replacements, new elevators and facade work. Perhaps because of the double punch of Hurricanes Irene and Sandy, perhaps because of general neglect and apathy, the work was never completed and the bathhouse is boarded up and, for the moment, abandoned. The federal Gateway National Recreation Area, which runs Riis Park, has tried to attract vendors and concessions to rent the boardwalk space without success. The hope for reconstruction in Riis Park may lie with beachcombing young Brooklynites who have infused the Rockaway Park area with fresh cash, new eateries and hotspots. Will they migrate west?

Not only the bathhouse reflects Art Deco and Modernist designs. The boardwalk’s lampposts are 1930s originals, albeit with modernized luminaires. In the Dirty Thirties, streamlined designs like this were a radical break from the cast-iron scrolled Bishop Crook and longarmed “Corvington” lamps found elsewhere on city streets.

This scene looks like a Pink Floyd LP cover, and I had been under the impression that Riis Park’s boardwalk clock was a recent addition. As a matter of fact, it has been here on the boardwalk since 1941, and it isn’t a recent “retro” version of a NYC street clock — it is actually a vintage model. Built in the 1890s by the Howard Clock Company of Boston, the clock stood in front of the Wise Jewelry Store at Flatbush Avenue and Nevins Street in downtown Brooklyn for several years until both store and clock moved to Fulton and Hoyt and even later, 288 Livingston. It was finally donated to NYC Parks in 1941 and has reigned the boardwalk since then. The foundation must be secure, since it has withstood two hurricane assaults in recent years.

Despite the presence of many beautiful women on the beach, some of whom were sans any clothing at all, even in non-nudity-designated areas, I was loath to turn my camera toward the seaside, lest any of their boyfriends who resembled the “after”pictures in the Charles Atlas ads take offense and rearrange my facial expression. Regardless, plenty of other sea and surf photo opportunities presented themselves.

Emerging from the east end of Jacob Riis Park, you are in the affluent Neponsit and Belle Harbor neighborhoods. Sandy did a number on these areas, but they are relatively well-off and many residents were able to rebuild quickly. Neponsit and Belle Harbor were developed beginning around 1900 by West Rockaway Land Company. Lined up along Rockaway Beach Boulevard are an odd mix of generously large houses, some of which were no doubt seaside hotels in the early 20th Century, and dead and dying trees, the result of a high salinity content in the soil, a parting gift from Sandy.

Watch for Mitch’s next chapter in this thrilling Rockaway saga on Thursday. And if you missed it, here’s part one.