9805. RUDIMENTS, pt. 32

RUDIMENTS, pt. 32

Making Cars

I figured there have always been crazy 

people, the zanies, the ones out there. 

Even in 1910; even in 1810. How to 

figure it all out? I'd walk the old streets 

of New York, recalling as if it were

all real, those old, dusty streets of 280 

years before : cattle roaming, loose pigs, 

natural hills and landscape, water, marsh. 

Everything that's now been long ago

leveled and destroyed, so much so that 

no one anymore has the least clue as to 

the sort of place and real location they 

inhabit. Manhattan Island now is but 

a terrible blemish. I remember, back

in 1965, reading the account of the 

Con Ed people digging up a section of 

Washington Square Park for whatever 

below-ground electric-wiring reasons 

and their finding 25 skeletons. Perfect, 

and all in a row.Everyone was stunned.

Little did most people know of Washington 

Square Park's history  -  parade grounds, 

military practice yard, encampments, drill

field, potters field, burial ground, execution 

ground. All through the 1600's and 1700's 

this stuff kept changing and leaving remnants. 

Why would anyone be surprised? The whole 

island once held fens and marshes, rivulets 

and hills, caves and warrens. By 1800 the 

entire natural landscape had been cleared 

and leveled for the Commissioners' grid 

program of straight streets and angled 

intersections; Anything in the way was 

just moved out and never mentioned again. 

They only saved what became Central Park

because the ultra-rich back then demanded

their accustomed open spaces  -  they used to

race their horses and carriages, and have

speed-runs up Bloomingdale Road. They

refused to lose the area where the park is,

and besides, they wanted those squatters and

their filthy shacks moved out. Indians too,

there used to be an entire village there of

blacks and Indians, living peaceably together.

Now, only some names remain - 'Murray

Hill,' 'Turtle Bay', etc. If you know your stuff,

the tiniest, most secret remnants of things can

still be found. Washington Square Park, before

it was called 'Park', just Washington Square, once

had the Minetta Brook running right through it.

Early on, about 1820 maybe, they sluiced and

channeled and buried it, BUT, adjacent to the

park now, until recently anyway, there was (is)

an apartment house with a large lobby, doormen,

desk-clerks and all that junk, and in that lobby,

from about 1910, built into the wall (I've gone

in and seen it numerous times, though not

recently) they have a clear piece of large

plastic piping or tubing, behind glass, on

view. You can see Minetta Brook, right there,

in that lobby, at the wall, running along its

way. Of course, everyone is completely

oblivious to this and the last time I was there

it ended up ME telling the Spanish doorman

guy who only watchfully let me into the lobby,

what it all was. Yes, too, I'm sure he thought

I was one of the zanies.

-

This was, as I mentioned, and as I walked along,

most all in my head. I wasn't satisfied to just accept

the crud I saw  -  filthy streets, dangerous places,

plain old stuff. I sensed that all of the old and the

at still lingered and that every street, building, and

corner had stories to tell me. That's putting a lot

on myself, of course, because it was then up to

me to learn of, read abut, and find a lot of this

history. It used to be difficult, not like today.

About now, every other day there's some sort

of fund-raising or TV history malarkey going on

and claiming to historically and accurately

present to you as viewer the tales and the histories

and stories of new York City. It's all crap. All

they do is spin the nicer stuff nicely. They're

shills and liars.

-

I was always captivated by words too. I'd

be walking along and a catch-phrase or

something on a sign or a building or an

advertisement would hold my attention.

I'd read everything I could, even the

cast-off stuff. I sometimes think the story

of mankind is the story of language;

whether it's engrained in our personal

DNA each, as Noam Chomsky once had

it put, or not; whether we have an  integral

part of our being with a 'language-consciousness'

built in, facilitating our communication and

logic, getting our world done, I never knew

or decided exactly. That was too tedious for

me, and I never drove hard for Science anyway.

This all lives on  -  even today I'm freaky

with words : same words captivate me too,

like 'support' and 'impede', they both come 

out meaning 'hold up.' Huh? Or, say, 'give

approval to' and express disapproval; both

are to 'sanction'. See how I mean? 'Watchful

care', and 'careless mistake.' They're both

'oversight.'  Crazy game stuff in the head.