Movable bridges are made to move so that big things can pass underneath. In most cases those things can be made taller and taller, and they’ll still be able to go through open bridges (just so long as they don’t get too wide, which has happened with boats trying to transit the Panama Canal).
A link in the recent WaterWire (the e-newsletter of the Waterfront Alliance) led to a story about raising the Bayonne Bridge. Basically, the 151-foot clearance is too low for the new giant cargo ships to fit through on the way to Port Newark and Port Elizabeth. The clearance needs to be 215 feet. If something isn’t done soon, the ports will suffer. (If the bridge is changed, will tugster need to change the photo at the top of his blog?)
Last April, Karen and I took a walking tour of Bayonne organized by the Municipal Art Society of New York. Part of the tour was a walk over the Bayonne Bridge to Staten Island. Here are some of my photos from that tour:
Looking down through the Bayonne Bridge to the Kill van Kull
Sometimes movable bridges appear in the most unexpected places. The other day I was wandering around somewhere south of New York when I spied this single bascule bridge connecting China and Germany:
The bridge is located in the World Showcase at Walt Disney World’s Epcot theme park. The World Showcase surrounds a lake, and there is even a ferry that crosses the lake and other boats that connect with hotels and another theme park. The barges used in the IllumiNations fireworks and laser show are stored in a canal off the lake, and the bridge must be opened for the barges to enter the lake:
We didn’t stick around for the show, but we did take a boat over to the Hollywood Studios park.
With the season’s first snow yesterday, I found myself thinking back to this past summer’s amazing boat trip up the Hudson. Looking through pictures from that trip, I found this one of the full moon, taken at Catskill Marina. I’ve put it here since I can’t think of anything else to do with it.
Today Karen, the kids, and I went to the New York Transit Museum to participate in a special program in connection with the exhibit “Last Day of the Myrtle Avenue El: Photographs by Theresa King.” After the photographer talked to us about her pictures, the kids borrowed digital cameras, and we headed out to see what Myrtle Avenue looks like today.
I wandered around the museum and was surprised to stumble upon the old control panel for the Harlem River Lift Bridge. This panel was made in Schenectady, New York, by General Electric and was used from 1936 through 2000:
Here are some details. This is the normal control master switch:
Every now and then I get to combine hobbies—in this case motorcycles, movable bridges, and boats. I’m just back from a weekend bike trip to Gloucester to get my fix of New England fishing boats and towns. In Gloucester I stayed at the Crow’s Nest, the bar made famous by the book and movie The Perfect Storm. Upstairs from the bar are hotel rooms—nothing fancy, but they’re clean and relatively cheap. There is no extra charge for the stale smoke smell. That’s the Crow’s Nest in the background:
It was pretty chilly during the ride up. Like Howard Blackburn, I thought I would let my hands freeze around the grips lest all be lost. Unlike Howard, I got to keep my fingers.
Gloucester has one two movable bridges. This is the Blynman Bridge:
It’s a double-leaf bascule bridge and was built in 1907 to honor Richard Blynman. In 1643 he dug the canal—known as the Cut—that connects the Annisquam River with Gloucester Harbor. (See the comments for an interesting note about this bridge.) This shot shows the counterweights that assist with opening the leaf:
The bridge operator on duty was kind enough to let me in to the control house so I could get a picture of the control panel:
GoodMorningGloucester has videos from inside the control house and photos of the bridge here. Live streaming video of the bridge can be seen on this webcam.
Nearby Essex was a center for shipbuilding. Of the estimated 6000 schooners built in Essex, seven have survived. Here’s the bow of the schooner Roseway (built in 1925), on the hard at the Gloucester Marine Railways for its annual haul-out:
The Gloucester Marine Railways have been around since 1859, making them the country’s oldest continuously operating marine railways.
This is the bow of the Evelina M. Goulart (built in 1927), undergoing restoration at the Essex Shipbuilding Museum:
Also at the shipbuilding museum is a sailing model of the schooner Ernestina (ex-Effie M. Morrisey, built in 1894). Ernestina currently resides in New Bedford. The model is named Effie M Morrisey Jr:
Here’s my dad, to provide scale:
The model can actually be sailed by a person lying prone on the deck.
The schooner Adventure (built in 1926) is based in Gloucester:
The oldest surviving Essex schooner is the Lettie G. Howard (built in 1893), currently owned by the South Street Seaport Museum in New York. In this photo by Karen, the Lettie is seen sailing wing-and-wing down the Hudson:
The Lettie was originally sailed out of Gloucester, and though this may ruffle some feathers here in New York, I think it’s time for her to be repatriated. She belongs in Gloucester.
The most interesting thing about the New Bedford Whaling National Historical Park is the large number of old buildings that have been moved into the park from their original locations. These are not small wood shacks, but rather entire buildings of stone or brick. On one street, most of the buildings came from somewhere else. Much of this relocation is due to the efforts of WHALE (Waterfront Historic Area LeaguE), which has an impressive record of historic preservation.
It was completed in 1836 and is the oldest continuously operating custom house in the United States. The New York Times had an interesting article about the custom house:
New Bedford is also home to the Seamen’s Bethel:
Herman Melville wrote about the bethel in chapter VII of Moby Dick:
In this same New Bedford there stands a Whaleman’s Chapel, and few are the moody fishermen, shortly bound for the Indian Ocean or Pacific, who fail to make a Sunday visit to the spot.
He also described the cenotaphs (from the Greek for empty tomb) that adorn the bethel’s walls. Here’s one:
Melville wrote of the chapel’s pulpit:
Its panelled front was in the likeness of a ship’s bluff bows, and the Holy Bible rested on a projecting piece of scroll work, fashioned after a ship’s fiddle-headed beak.
Here’s how Rockwell Kent illustrated it:
And here’s Orson Welles preaching from the pulpit in the 1956 movie:
The only problem was that the real Seamen’s Bethel did not have a pulpit like that—at least not until throngs of tourists arrived there asking to see the pulpit. Now it has one:
New Bedford’s working waterfront is alive with all sorts of fishing boats. Fortunately for us we were there on a Sunday—there was not much work happening, but there were tons of boats at the docks:
There was also a most-interesting fountain of a Greek god standing atop all sorts of sea creatures:
New Bedford is also home to the schooner Ernestina, ex-Effie M. Morrisey. For some reason there are no booms or gaffs on the masts of this 115-year-old boat (perhaps due to current restoration work?), so this is the most nautical shot I could get:
This may have escaped your notice, but tomorrow is the sixth annual National Punctuation Day. We’ve all seen the signs and awnings with misplaced apostrophes and “inappropriate” quotation marks. Tomorrow is the day to celebrate their correct usage (along with all the other marks of punctuation).
(Yes, I know. This was totally off-topic, but I can’t help it; I’m a punctuation snob.)
During our recent tour of New England we visited the Portland Head Light. This lighthouse was built over four years, from 1787 to 1791. Its construction was initiated by George Washington.
Two years ago when we visited the lighthouse, the conditions were quite different, lending a very “Maine” feel to the scene:
Today Karen, the kids, and I along with our friends Elisa and Jon took a tour of Bannerman’s Island. Also known as Pollepel Island, it was bought by Francis Bannerman VI in 1900. Here he built an arsenal to house his inventory of military surplus and also a residence for his family. Last winter I took some pictures of the island and its ruins, and we passed by on our trip up the river in July, but this was the first time we actually set foot on the island.
The coolest thing about the tour was that we had to wear hard hats:
This warning sign was also cool, if a little scary:
Bannerman was not an architect, but he was rich, so he designed the castle himself, taking design elements from various castles he had seen:
He also invented a coat-of-arms for himself and a Latin motto, which used to appear over the entry:
Bannerman was fond of carving words in cement. These are the steps that lead down to Wee Bay on the south side of the island:
Also on the south side are the ruins of the Bannerman family residence:
This tower:
reminds me of this painting:
The image carved here refers to the story (probably false) that Bannerman told about how his ancestor carried the banner of Scotland back in the days of William Wallace and Robert the Bruce and was called the “banner man.” Hence the name.
Here’s one last view of the arsenal as we boarded the boat back to Beacon:
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