Clason Point Park and Waterfront Garden

Thanks to the NYC Ferry it's now easy for people from around the city to visit some of the parks on the Bronx coast that aren't otherwise easy to get to by public transportation. A few years ago, for example, a visit to Soundview Park required a long subway ride followed by a walk through a neighborhood that seemed saddled with infrastructural neglect.

The ferry's new Soundview line terminates at Clason Point Park (the name is pronounced "Clawson") at the tip of a small peninsula that houses the tiny neighborhood of Harding Park. To quote Forgotten New York, Harding Park is "the maze of little unnamed streets and bungalows found along Bronx River, Leland, Gildersleeve and Cornell Avenues in the southwest sector of Clason Point...[I]t seems independent from the rest of the Bronx, since its street pattern is different and it's cut off by water from the rest of the borough. It's very, very odd."

As exploratory documentarians demonstrate year after year, New York City encompasses many "very, very odd" places and things. Clason Point Park itself, though, isn't one of them.

As in many places on July 5, the grounds were littered with fireworks debris. But the park's virtues, like its swathes of grass shaded by trees, remained evident.

Viewed from beneficial angles, the winding paths and healthy-looking trees shading clean benches and jumbles of grey rocks make the park an appealing waterfront green space...

...though not one for swimming.

A more recent Forgotten New York post – by Sergey Kadinsky, author of Hidden Waters of New York City (a book any NYC explorer who's interested in history will find valuable) – recounts how Clason Point once housed an amusement park, and later a sort of mini-Catskills resort called Shore Haven that catered to the Bronx's then-substantial Jewish population.

Back in the 1940s, revelers would have had a nice view of the Whitestone Bridge connecting the Bronx with Queens, though not the newer Throgs Neck Bridge, which you can see beyond the Whitestone today.

Information about Isaac Clason, other than that he was a Scottish landowner and merchant, is hard to find. The "point" that bears his name has an interesting history, though. Here's one awful detail recounted in the AIA Guide, as quoted in a 2000 New York Times article by Philip Lopate: "Tragedy came in 1924 when a freak wind squall blew down the Clason Point Amusement Park's Ferris wheel...killing 24."

The park's upper portion winds northward along the eastern edge of the peninsula. It's not hard to imagine a good-sized resort or amusement park on this large, flat, unused grassy field.

Continuing north through this quiet area of the park, we encountered only one other human, who appeared to be unhoused and was sleeping on the ground. (Not pictured.)

A tree full of delicious mulberries rewarded us on this hot, sweaty day of exploration.

Leaving the park, we wended our way to a nearby community garden called the Waterfront Garden. Its lush, fanciful landscaping and view of the East River (or Long Island Sound, if you prefer) welcomed us inside. So did a friendly local man who was passing by.

The garden is somehow affiliated with the New York Botanical Garden, and it shows.

Next up: onward to Pugsley Creek Park.

All photos © Critical Lens Media

Pier 26, Hudson River Park

Recent visits to Steeplechase Pier in Coney Island and the brand-new Little Island in Hudson River Park reminded me that I hadn't talked about another notable new development along the Hudson: Pier 26.

This ecological park, jutting far out into the river off Hudson River Park, opened in September 2020. It endeavors to give an inkling of the natural ecology of the riverbank as Henry Hudson would have encountered it 400 years ago, before European settlement and centuries of industrial development turned the lower banks of the great estuary into a mostly artificial environment.

A walk down the pier takes you through five ecological zones: woodland forest, coastal grassland, maritime scrub, rocky tidal zone, and the river itself.

These environments are not reproduced, but suggested with native plants and infrastructure.

For example, planting a full-fledged woodland forest might not have been practical, but there are some nice young trees among the multitudinous vegetation.

The pier is designed for active visits, leisurely walks – and just plain leisure.

The Tide Deck at the far end of the pier was designed to flood with the daily tide. (Remember, the Hudson River is actually an estuary, not a river.) So you can only visit it on a guided tour.

But you can walk over it and look down.

A look south offers a familiar sight:

Across the river to the west rises the skyline of Jersey City. Most of these buildings didn't exist when I lived there in the 1980s.

When you're finished exploring Pier 26, you could relax at another new New York City attraction, City Vineyard. I haven't been there, but I have fond memories of its late cousin, the old location of NYC's City Winery. (At the new one, live music is back, unlike when I took these photos back in October 2020.)

Or take a walk down my favorite part of Hudson River Park, the sort-of-hidden Tribeca Native Boardwalk, which winds among gardens of native plants. Can you spot the humans secluding themselves in the next two images?

Educational goals aside, Pier 26 is handsomely laid out and landscaped, a beautiful addition to Hudson River Park.

All photos © Critical Lens Media

Elevated Acre

A garden oasis in the sky in Lower Manhattan's financial district? Just so.

You get to the Elevated Acre at 55 Water St. by a mysterious-looking stairway or escalator you'd never guess leads to a pastoral platform amid the towers of high finance.

In the dark days of the coronavirus pandemic, over the winter when nothing much was blooming and almost no one was working downtown, a few folks still elevated themselves here for a break or a think or a stroll.

While the big field of turf lacks charisma...

...the paths and benches offer nice spots to either squirrel yourself away...

...or take in the river view.

We owe the existence of the Elevated Acre to zoning regulations that allowed developers to build higher in return for including a public plaza on the property. The platform was completed in the early 1970s, the present design in 2005. Untapped Cities reports that in "normal" times there's a restaurant and a summer beer garden, along with scheduled events.

As the website of co-designer Marvel Designs has it, the platform offers "panoramic views of the Brooklyn Bridge and New York Harbor amidst lush seasonal flora and under the plaza’s beacon tower" and is "designed to host a wide range of year-round programs from an ice-rink to outdoor amphitheater and wedding receptions."

The beacon tower doesn't look like much by day, but at night it lights up, announcing the Elevated Acre to passing barges and ferries. (The glass company that outfitted the tower has some nice photos of the tower illuminated.)

All photos © Critical Lens Media

Steeplechase Pier, Coney Island

If "resilient" can mean "being rebuilt again and again," then the Pat Auletta Steeplechase Pier at Coney Island is resilient as advertised (on the sign at its entrance). Its most recent iteration opened Oct. 2, 2013 after Hurricane Sandy had destroyed it the previous year. But the history of this thousand-foot (and now T-shaped) pier goes back to 1904, seven years after Coney Island's famed Steeplechase Park had first opened. Since then the pier has died and lived again, died and lived again.

Steeplechase Pier lies just off the site of the Parachute Jump, an iconic relic that's often thought of as the only remnant of the Steeplechase amusement park. But the pier has been here, in one form or another, much longer than that long-retired thrill ride, and is four times as long as the Parachute Jump is high. (Historical note: The Jump was actually built for the 1939 World's Fair, transported to Steeplechase in 1941, decommissioned when the amusement park shut down in the '60s, and preserved to this day through sheer community will).

Above: the Parachute Jump as seen from Steeplechase Pier
Above: looking west from the start of Steeplechase Pier
Above: looking west from a little farther out on Steeplechase Pier

On our recent visit, one of the first sites on the pier itself was a "Prayer Station" making an attempt to display an ecumenical or even nondenominational spirit.

Much more lively was a percussion party a little farther out.

The main activity at the far end of the pier is fishing. The designers of the present pier provided some fishing infrastructure along with a separate raised walkway so promenaders can not only view the wide ocean but watch the fisherfolk without getting in their way.

One fisherman (not pictured) landed a skate just as we approached. (I think this is a skate and not a stingray – I don't see a stinger.) Displaying it on the plastic-wood floorboards for the gathering crowd to photograph and admire, he explained that he would not eat the charismatic creature but would throw it back, which he proceeded to do after a bit of a struggle to get the hook out of its mouth. He rhapsodized about how the catch was a gift from God, provided so that we all could appreciate the bountiful variety of life in the ocean right here off the teeming beaches of Coney Island. It's a nice thought – maybe he was inspired at the Prayer Station.

Steeplechase Pier became the Pat Auletta Steeplechase Pier in honor of a man known as "Mr. Coney Island" or the "Mayor of Coney Island" (and father of writer Ken Auletta). From the 1940s to the '60s Pat Auletta and his wife Nettie ran Pat's Sporting Equipment on Stillwell Avenue, then managed the Abe Stark Skating Rink for NYC Parks until the 1980s. Auletta's 1991 New York Times obituary bears a correction that's so New York: "Because of an editing error, an obituary in some editions yesterday about Pat V. Auletta, a member of Community Board 13 in New York City, referred incorrectly to Coney Island. It is in Brooklyn, not Queens."

It sure is!

All photos © Critical Lens Media

Little Island

All the talk this past weekend in the local New York City press was about Little Island, a just-opened public park off Hudson River Park on the west side of Manhattan. It's the brainchild and wallet spawn of media mogul Barry Diller, who worked with the Hudson River Park Trust and an assortment of arts honchos to envision, design, and actually build a totally original park over the Sandy-damaged Pier 54.

It certainly succeeds in fulfilling the vision described on its website of a "captivating landscape" and "an immersive experience with nature and art."

On that website you'll also find the phrase "an oasis from urban life." The word "oasis" did not come to mind as I steered myself among the crowds streaming through the park at 8:30 on the morning of its debut Sunday, when I took most of these photos. Judging from the variety of languages in the air, it's likely to become as much of a tourist attraction as the nearby High Line.

Little Island arose at a historic point on the riverside. This is where the Cunard Line's ocean liners docked in the early 20th century. The Titanic would have put in here, had it completed its maiden voyage. And here is where the Carpathia docked with the survivors. As you enter Little Island via its South Bridge, you can first experience Cunard's big iron gate, a bit of history that's been preserved.

Contrast enhanced for easier viewing of the words "Cunard Line"
The Cunard gate from the other side and the start of the South Bridge

The artificial "island" is built on concrete piles topped with "tulip pot" modules. Together they look like a nest of giant mushrooms of undulating heights. No two "pots" are exactly alike.

Walking under the towering mushrooms at the South Bridge entrance I got a little Jurassic Park shiver. It feels like the entrance to a scary-magical Alice-in-Wonderland amusement park.

People were taking advantage of the lawn – and lining up at the snack booth on the ugly concrete area known as the Playground, even though it wasn't even nine in the morning.

But around and along the ups and downs, spring flowers were in colorful bloom.

I like the slightly whimsical driftwood-like benches.

Oversized "steps" remind me of the climb up the highest hill on Governor's Island.

You can take steps or ramps up to the high points and get a good look up and down the great estuary we call the Hudson River. The topmost lookout was crowded with sightseers.

Want to make a small area seem bigger? A twisting, turning path is your friend.

The amphitheater hosts performances from groups such as the American Ballet Theater.

It may prove that, as with the High Line, the best time for a local to visit Little Island and avoid crowds is on a weekday morning. But if you're a visitor to NYC and want to experience one if its newest and most original outdoor features, any time is good. You could hit Little Island, the High Line, and Chelsea Market all in the same day. (At present, you must reserve a timed ticket to visit during afternoon hours.)

While you're enjoying the space and the views, take a few moments to appreciate the design and engineering, too.

Barry Diller surveys his work from the inside

All photos © Critical Lens Media