#Hart Island

[scholarofgloom]

[thoughtportal]

A few years ago, a man who called himself Stephen became a fixture in Manhattan’s Riverside Park. After his body was discovered, a woman who knew him made it her mission to bring his story to light.

{listen}

[thespiralstaircasewriter]

A MADONNA OF THE WILD SIDE

Beside my bed, the last image and the first I saw everyday, back when I was a young girl, was a poster of Lou Reed and Rachel Humphreys.

I have to say that, more than him, it was her that I looked up to.

Her styled, wavy dark hair, her perfectly plucked eyebrows, her remote Monna Lisa composure.

To me she looked unexplicably calm, her limbs draped around her man, the composition of the tableau as majestic as any Renaissance Madonna portrait.

I couldn’t help but study her polished fingernails and her mysterious half-smile.

I really didn’t know a thing, in my closed up world, all alone with myself and my innate instincts. Which said: look, and learn. Look, and try to seize that secret. Look, and try to understand for yourself what life is.

Here, basic reality: Man, and Woman. So it seems. Like Father and Mother, but different. And it concerns me too, I thought, because I am a woman too, by birth. But I am and feel completely different from this Woman. Perhaps that might be because she is said to be… a Man? But she doesn’t look like one. The matter requires investigation.

A woman, I observed, was some role to interpret by serious rules, and at the same time, a nature, as evident as the one expressed by a thriving plant, or by a tiger, calmly licking her paw.

Rachel looked like a woman, in a pair of jeans and a black shirt. So a woman was obviously the essence which radiated through her person: it spoke to me, but I couldn’t make out the words.

Time passed, and I grew up. The poster went, and something else took its place.

I seemed to forget everything about Lou and Rachel, and if the sun had come out for the two of them, on one day lost in time.

And in time, I had my own chances to throw my bones at the world, to take long life digressions, to bore myself in well-thought out perspectives, to fuck and get fucked by my own quiproquos.

I went along what looked like my own way.

And you could say I turned around one day and found I had gone full circle, to be back to the same perplexity, and to the same attentive observation, this time surrounded by a modern, multi-faceted world, speaking in tongues, where a million oracles, high or low, just wait on every corner, to dole out any sorts of revelations you might ask for.

So I learned in detail the human story behind the lore I had picked up passing by, through the years, of how Rachel Humphreys was, in Lou Reed’s own words, ‘something else’, oscillating between a masculine and a feminine identity, and still retaining some man traits.

From what I found, Rachel had wanted to make her choice, and to be called a ‘she’. No ‘he’ days, anymore.

But that didn’t come true for Rachel. And we’ll never know exactly if she was denied that, or if she just put it on hold, busy on drugs, adventures and misadventures, thinking she would have the chance later. Later…

Likewise, we’ll never know if she left, or the way she held her head when she left, although I have a whole movie in my mind about that. Or if Rachel just lost her game and her man, and she was actually the one to watch him go, his heart closed for her, uncomprehending.

I’ll never know.

But I know that she fell from grace, that she suffered her own ordeal in the cruelest, unmitigated years of a modern Plague, and that she died a miserly death, like so many artists’ models. A sure death, the only biographic detail we possess about the mysterious beauties who look at us from ancient portraits.

And I know where her bones rest, I read, in a ‘pauper burial site’ on Hart Island, off the Bronx coast.

There she is, among many, many others, over one million souls, it says.

All the same, I feel as if I might just find her, in a dream.

Then I would know her in the multitude, and walk up to her.

Touch her shoulder, tell her I remember her.

Give her this story.

[peashooter-in-exile]

Why this tiny island in New York City is inaccesible

from SideNote

[ostensiblynone]

Radio Diaries: Extraordinary stories of ordinary life

Hart Island, an uninhabited strip of land off the Bronx in Long Island Sound, is America’s largest public cemetery, sometimes known as a “potter’s field.” Since 1869, more than a million people have been buried on Hart Island, including early AIDS patients, unidentified and unclaimed New Yorkers, immigrants, incarcerated people, artists, and about ten percent of New Yorkers who died of COVID-19. 

Until recently, access to the cemetery has been limited—close relatives of the deceased only gained visitation rights in 2015. In the coming months, however, the island is expected to open to the public for the first time. 

Many people buried there are shrouded in anonymity. The island has no headstones or plaques, just numbered markers. Simple pine coffins are stacked in mass graves. In many cases, explanations for how bodies came to be buried there are hard to find. 

Our series tells the stories of seven people buried on Hart Island through a range of circumstances. Some were lost in the system after their deaths, while others had been cut off from family and friends for years. One chose Hart Island as his final resting place. Each story is told by the people who knew them best, some of whom overcame tremendous obstacles to uncover what happened to their loved ones.

To see an interactive map of the island and explore a database of individuals buried there, check out The Hart Island Project.

Subscribe to Radio Diaries to hear weekly episodes on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen.

[puretopia]

moving to Windenburg

[marykatewiles]

And so it begins! Anne of the Island, chapter one, is out today on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. Tune in each week for a new chapter or join us on Patreon to get the entire book! This third book in the series was my favorite to create and read and I'm so excited to finally be sharing it with the world. Thank you for listening!

This chapter features @hartgracesarah, @seanpersaud, and Lauren Lopez.

[sinnaminie]

Some of my The Terror plushie fellas went to Beechey Island ☺️

Many thanks to Zoe & her mum for the photos

[coochiequeens]

Since that post about Martha Gellhorn is popular here's a post about another writer who is more interesting than Hemingway.

Dawn Powell on the beach, circa 1914.

Tim Page, the Estate of Dawn Powell

This is the third story in The Unmarked Graveyard: Stories from Hart Island series from Radio Diaries. You can listen to the next installment on All Things Considered next Monday, and read and listen to previous stories in the series here.

Dawn Powell infiltrated the writing world by hanging out in bars and taverns around New York's Greenwich Village in the 1920s, rubbing shoulders with the likes of Ernest Hemingway and Edmund Wilson.

"She came from nowhere, she was no one," writer Fran Lebowitz told Radio Diaries.

But Powell had a voice. She had style. And she rose from obscurity by turning her gaze on the city of New York itself and its cast of characters. Over the coming decades, Powell wrote novels, diaries and more than a dozen plays — earning her renown, and even a National Book Award nomination.

Then, in 1965, she died. What happened next didn't go according to script.

A voice lost to the world

Powell had been clear in her will: she wanted her body to be donated to the Weill Cornell Medical Center for research. Yet five years after her death, when Cornell asked her executor, Jacqueline Rice, what to do with her remains, Rice left the decision up to the center.

So, unbeknownst to her family and friends, Powell was buried on New York's Hart Island — America's largest public cemetery. Then, all of her work went out of print.

A generational talent of New York was buried in its heart, but lost to the world and those who knew her.

Powell circa 1930, and an entry in her diary circa 1914.

Tim Page, the Estate of Dawn Powell

Hart Island, located off the coast of the Bronx, has no headstones and no plaques. It's often seen as a place for those who went unrecognized in their lifetime — not for well-known writers.

Powell had been writing stories since she was a child. Growing up in Ohio, she endured considerable emotional abuse from her stepmother and often used writing as an escape. In 1918, she left Ohio for New York City, with dreams of being a writer.

"She knew that she was smart enough, good enough to be very good in New York, which is the most competitive place in the world," Lebowitz said.

Powell's humble beginnings in the bars of Greenwich Village turned into a career. In the coming years, she wrote witty pieces on New York life for magazines like The New Yorker and Esquire. Her career picked up steam when she began writing novels about New York: satirical, risque fiction about people who'd come to the city from a small town and indulged in its joys and vices. Her most well known novels include A Time to Be Born (1942) and The Wicked Pavilion (1954).

"She was a very smart, tough, sarcastic, woman who put all of that into her books," said Tim Page, a critic and author of Dawn Powell: A Biography. "She made fun of millionaires and communists. She basically thought human beings were silly and frivolous, but she loved them."

Powell's writing reflected her personal life. Her characters were often young people who ached for success and recognition, but rarely got it. Though her work was in the public eye (her last novel, The Golden Spur, was a finalist for the 1963 National Book Award), she did not reach the level of fame of other writers, male or female, in her era.

"Some critics thought she was mean," Page said. "All the very famous women writers were usually ending their stories with a man and a woman falling in love and living happily thereafter. Dawn had seen enough of life to realize, well, sometimes that's the case but it's not what usually happens in the world."

Powell's diary, December 1932.

Tim Page, the Estate of Dawn Powell

Powell struggled with money for much of her life. She and her husband, Joseph Gousha, had a disabled son who needed costly medical care. By the end of her life, she also needed medical care of her own. She developed intestinal cancer, which led to her death.

While her will was specific about her body going to the Weill Cornell Medical Center, it didn't specify what to do with her body after its donation. In addition to being Powell's general executor, Jacqueline Rice was also her literary co-executor, largely responsible for her literary estate. When her client died, Rice simply stopped responding to inquiries from publishers and filmmakers. It was some time before Rice told Powell's family about where she had ended up.

Years later, Powell's great-niece Vicki Johnson was told by her mother about the burial on Hart Island, also known as a Potter's Field.

"My mom told me it was a Potter's Field, and it was just a place where people are buried who didn't have any money or no family to take care of them," Johnson said. "My grandparents would have certainly found a better resting place for her than where she was buried."

The effort to bring Powell's work back

Powell isn't the only well-known person buried on Hart Island. There's former child actor Bobby Driscoll, who starred in some of the most iconic Disney films of the time, like Treasure Island and Peter Pan — and even won a Juvenile Oscar by the age of 13.

Driscol fell into a pattern of substance abuse and run-ins with the law in his teenage years, ranging from drug smuggling to assault. He was found dead in his Greenwich Village apartment at 31. When no one claimed his body, he ended up on Hart Island.

The cemetery is also home to Rachel Humphreys — the muse and lover to Lou Reed, and the inspiration for several songs on his album Coney Island Baby. Though her official cause of death remains unknown, Humphreys died at the age of 37 at St. Clare's hospital, known for housing AIDS patients. Hers was among the many bodies sent to Hart Island during the AIDS epidemic.

Johnson and others insist Powell wouldn't have minded being buried at Hart Island.

"I think she'd be a little amused by the fact that she's buried with a Disney star and a rock and roller," Page said. "She loved New York. She told the truth about New York and I'm not sure she'd want to be anywhere else."

Dawn Powell circa late 1940s, early 1950s.

Tim Page, the Estate of Dawn Powell

Though Powell's descendants have chosen not to remove her body from Hart Island, there has been a considerable effort to unbury her work. In 1987, her writer and friend, Gore Vidal, published an article in The New York Review of Books, praising Powell as one of American literature's lost greats. The article ignited interest in Powell in the writing world.

Steerforth Press also published a volume of Powell's diaries, edited by Page, in 1998. The Library of America put nine of her novels back in print in 2001.

These days, Powell has gained a cult-like following. Celebrities like Julia Roberts and Anjelica Huston have tried turning her books into films, and she's gotten a shout-out on the TV show Gilmore Girls.

"There will come a time when people will realize that she's one of America's greatest writers," Page said.

This story was produced by Mycah Hazel of Radio Diaries. It was edited by Deborah George, Ben Shapiro and Joe Richman. Thanks also to Nellie Gilles, Alissa Escarce, and Lena Engelstein of Radio Diaries.

This story is the third in a series called The Unmarked Graveyard: Stories from Hart Island. You can find other stories from Hart Island on the Radio Diaries Podcast.

[dietcunt222]

it gives me a splash of comfort to know other creatures have souls too.

but when it comes to my own species, i’d rather be alone.

i could never figure out why.

maybe its the familiarity that ruins the mystery.

maybe because when i look at them, i see me.

[mushi-shield]

[tuttle-did-it]

‘Murder in Milan’ Murder, She Wrote

Cesar Romero returns (The Golden Girls, The Love Boat, Magnum PI, Fantasy Island, Charlie’s Angels, Hart to Hart, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, Ironside, Night Gallery, Bewitched, Here’s Lucy, The Man from U.N.C.L.E, etc)

George Coe returns George Coe (Kramer vs Kramer, Bones, Archer, Star Wars animated shows, Supernatural Curb Your Enthusiasm, Grey’s Anatomy, The West Wing, Smallville, Becker, The Nanny, L.A. Law, St:TNG, Night Court, Murphy Brown, so much more!)

Paul Gleason returns (The Wonder Years, Adam012, Columbo, Cagney & Lacey, Magnum PI, Dallas, Kate & Allie, Diehard, Father Dowling Investigates, Seinfeld, Lost on Earth, The Drew Carey Show, Diagnosis Murder, etc)

S9E1 20 Sept 1992

[allthingsfandomx]

[ruthkearneydaily]

Primeval : The lost island

Rule #1 :

Season 3 foreshadowing ? Be careful what you wish for, Connor.

The bros are back :’)

The mall episode is mentionned quite a few times.

Wether I’m reading Primeval novels or Death in Paradise ones, it’s always Ben Miller hating on us, the French :’)

[rabbitcruiser]

World Fiddle Day

Schedule a lesson or find a performance to enjoy one of the classic  instruments of the working class, the fiddle. Or sit down to watch  Fiddler on the Roof!

World Fiddle Day is an annual music celebration day celebrated on the  Third Saturday of May. This year it will be observed on May 19. Even  though World Fiddle Day was created in 2012, it gained popularity all  over the world within a few years. It was created to celebrate and to  teach the playing of bowed string instruments throughout the world by  conducting participatory and inclusive events. The fiddle is a bowed  string musical instrument, used by the players in all genres including  classical music.

World Fiddle Day happens once a year and is meant to celebrate  everything that everyone loves about the chirpy, fun and feisty art of  fiddle music. You’ll see it being celebrated on the third Saturday of  each May. The fiddle is always known to be something positive, with all  the songs and notes it produces high energy, entertaining, and bringing  something positive. Making the room dance, wherever the sound of a  fiddle is played.

Around the world, this day is celebrated with dancing, music, and of course plenty of fiddle playing!

History of World Fiddle Day

Before we speak about the day, it may be best to get a better idea of  the Fiddle that is being celebrated! The fiddle is a four-stringed  musical instrument of the string family, also often referred to as a  small type of violin. Like the violin, it is also played with a bow. The  terms fiddling or fiddle playing actually refer to a style of music,  most commonly folk music. The origins of the name ‘fiddle’ are not known  but is believed to be derived from an early violin or the Old English  word ‘fithele’. The fiddle is common to English folk music, Irish folk  music, Scandinavian music, Austrian, French, Hungarian, Polish,  American, Latin American, African, and even Australian music. There is  no difference between the fiddle and small violin aside from the name  and type of music the instrument is used for.

A fiddle has many parts including the neck, fingerboard, tuning pegs,  scroll, pegbox, bridge, soundhole, strings, fine tuners, tailpiece,  bass bar, soundboard, chinrest, button, backplate, and bow. The earliest  fiddles (or violins) were derived from the bow instruments from the  Middle Ages.

When it comes to building a high-quality fiddle, it can take as many  as 200 hours for craftsmen to handcraft a professional fiddle, showing  that for a relatively simple looking and fun instrument, a lot of craft  and workmanship has to go into building one.

Traditional fiddle strings were made of pig, goat, horse, or sheep  intestine. Today they are made from steel or aluminium over a nylon  core. Now, the last fiddle fact that you may want to take down for your  next game of trivia, is that the fastest fiddler/violinist on record is  Ben lee who played ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ in just over a minute in  2010. He played an average of 13 notes each second for a total of 810  notes in all. Now that is pretty impressive, so now the fiddle has been  explained, what about the day?

The day was founded in 2012 by one Caoimhin Mac Aoidh, a professional  fiddler from Donegal in Ireland. The day was birthed from a deep  respect for one of the most expert and revered violin makers in history.

This month was chosen to coincide with the anniversary of the death  of the Italian violin craftsman Antonio Stradivari’s way back in 1737.

Stradivari is today considered the most significant creator of  violins in history, with his surviving instruments today seen as the  most prized and finest ever created. Although he also made the larger  string instruments cellos and violas, it’s the violins that he lovingly  crafted that he is most well-known and remembered for.

Though only a couple of hundred of his works still exists, they have  been known to capture some huge prices at auction and are especially  sought-after amongst professional violin players.

How to celebrate World Fiddle Day

If you ever learned how to play the violin in school, or you  frequently play it either for pleasure or for work, today is a great day  to get out your fiddle and play a couple of tunes! Perhaps play a  little for friends or family, or show your children how to play some  simple themes. If you do not own one, or do not know how to play it,  then this could be a great time to learn. It is always fun and engaging  to learn a new musical instrument, so why not start to learn the art of  the fiddle, and maybe at next year’s celebrations you can play to the  world what you have managed to learn!

If you aren’t lucky enough to have learned how to play this string  instrument, you can celebrate its day by listening to some of the  fantastic performances by string artists easily found on Youtube or  Spotify. Add a spring to your daily commute with some Mozart, Barber or  Brahms!

And if you’ve always fancied trying your hand at the violin, perhaps  today you could take a trial lesson learning how to play? Who knows – by  the time the next World Fiddle Day comes along, you could be able to  play along with everyone else who is fiddling away!

Whatever you get up to, have a great World Fiddle Day!

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