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travel-voyages · 4 years ago

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20 Historic, Beautiful New York Buildings That Were Demolished

City Hall Newspaper Row Buildings (l-r) World Building (aka Pulitzer Building), Sun Building, Tribune Building - all demolished. New York Times and Potter Buildings are still extant

City Hall Newspaper Row Buildings (l-r) World Building (aka Pulitzer Building), Sun Building, Tribune Building – all demolished. New York Times and Potter Buildings are still extant

New York City real estate developers will always knock down a building if a buck can be made. So it really should come as no surprise that these buildings were demolished because they outlived their usefulness or more often than not, the land they sat upon was deemed more valuable than the building itself.

Nathan Silver’s must-own book, Lost New York (1967) Houghton Mifflin, was the first book to explicitly point out what New York City had lost architecturally over the years. If you have never read it, you should.

For our short postcard essay, there are hundreds of examples we could have chosen from and we picked 20. We omitted places of worship, theatres and restaurants which are the most transitory of buildings.

We’ve covered hotels before, and we could do another story on all the historic hotels that have been torn down, but we’ve included a few in this retrospective.

Rather than comment extensively on the buildings, a brief summary will suffice and the images should convey what we have lost. These postcards have been scanned at 1200 dpi in high resolution, click on any postcard to enlarge.

Singer Building hresSinger Building – 149 Broadway (corner Liberty Street), A gem by architect Ernest Flagg, built 1908. Once the tallest building in the world. The Singer Building was elegant and sleek. Demolished 1967-68 and replaced by a ugly box of a building built by the Unites States Steel Corporation.

Produce Exchange hresProduce Exchange – 2 Broadway between Beaver and Stone Streets. Architect George B. Post’s splendid work of grace was constructed between 1882-84, and demolished 1957.

Gillender Building 2 hresGillender Building – northwest corner Wall Street and Nassau Street. Architects, Charles I. Berg and Edward H. Clark, built in 1897 at a cost of $500,000. The Gillender Building was the tallest office building in the world for a brief time. The 20-story tower lasted only 13 years. In 1910 it was the first modern fireproof building to be demolished and it was done at breakneck speed, in under 45 days. The Gillender Building was replaced by the Bankers Trust Tower.

St. Paul Building hresSt. Paul Building – 222 Broadway corner Ann Street at end of Park Row. Architect George B. Post, built 1895-1898. Personally one of architect’s George B. Post’s least favorite buildings. Called “ugly” by some contemporary critics, but hundreds of thousands of visitors came to marvel at it. Demolished 1958.

World Building hresNew York World Building (aka Pulitzer Building) (center with gold dome) – 63 Park Row corner Frankfort Street. Another George B. Post architectural masterpiece, built 1890. Demolished in 1955-56 along with 20 other buildings the city purchased in the immediate vicinity to widen the approach to the Brooklyn Bridge.

Tribune Building hresNew York Tribune Building – Park Row corner Nassau and Spruce Street. Architect Richard Morris Hunt, built 1875. Demolished 1966 to expand Pace University’s campus.

Herald Square Herald Building hresNew York Herald Building – Broadway and Sixth Avenue between 35th and 36th Streets. Architect, Stanford White of McKim, Mead & White architects, built 1893. While the area still carries the name Herald Square after the newspaper and its building, the ornate three story Herald Building was demolished in two stages one in 1928, the other in 1940 and replaced by two extremely mundane buildings.

Madison Sqaure Garden hresMadison Square Garden – Madison and Fourth Avenue 26th to 27th Streets McKim, Mead and White, architects, built 1890. When Madison Sqaure Garden was actually located on Madison Square. Demolished 1925. Replaced by the New York Life Insurance Company Building.

Pennsylvania Station hresPennsylvania Station – Entire block Seventh to Eighth Avenues and 31st to 33rd Streets. Architects, McKim, Mead & White, 1901 – 1910. McKim’s masterpiece and the most significant single loss of a public building. Its destruction brought about the creation of the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission. Demolished 1963-65. Replaced by the hideous mouse maze called Penn Station beneath the Penn Plaza office complex and Madison Square Garden.

Waldorf Astoria Hotel hresThe Waldorf-Astoria – Fifth Avenue 33rd to 34th Streets. Originally two separate hotels The Waldorf built 1893 and The Astoria built 1897 both by architect Henry Hardenbergh. Demolished 1929. One of the modern landmarks of New York City now stands on the old Waldorf-Astoria site, The Empire State Building.

Astor Hotel hresAstor Hotel – 1507 – 1521 Broadway west side between 44th and 45th Streets. Architects Clinton & Russell built the original portion of the hotel in 1904 and completed the second section in 1910. This beautiful landmark hotel was torn down in 1967. A boring boxy skyscraper now occupies the site.

Hotel Savoy hresHotel Savoy – 709 Fifth Avenue and 59th Street. Architect Ralph S. Townsend, built 1891-1892. Demolished 1925-1926. Replaced by The Savoy Plaza Hotel which was also torn down in 1966.

Hotel Netherland Hotel Savoy together hresHotel Netherland – Fifth Avenue and 59th Street. W.H. Hume architect, built 1890-93. Demolished 1926 replaced by the Sherry Netherland Hotel.

Hotel Majestic hresMajestic Hotel – 72nd Street & Central Park West. Architect, Alfred Zucker, built 1894. Demolished 1929. Replaced by the art deco Majestic Apartments.

Clearing House hresThe Clearing House – 77 Cedar Street north side between Broadway and Nassau Street. Architect Robert W. Gibson, built 1894-96. Demolished 1964 for a Skidmore, Owings & Merrill acclaimed nondescript glass office tower 140 Broadway (1968).

John Wanamaker hresJohn Wanamaker’s Department Store – Broadway between 9th and 10th Streets. Architect John Kellum, built 1862. Originally constructed for department store magnate A.T. Stewart, Wanamaker’s expanded to a second annex building in 1905 on Broadway between 8th and 9th Streets connected by a bridge of sighs to the original building which is shown above.

Wanamaker’s closed its doors permanently on December 18, 1954. Wanamaker’s was in the process of being demolished to be replaced by an apartment building, when on July 14, 1956, one of New York City’s most spectacular fires broke out at around 5:45 pm. Fortunately no one was killed but 187 firefighters were hurt, mostly with smoke inhalation, as they fought a blaze for 25 hours which consumed the original building. The Stewart House apartment building which replaced Wanamaker’s, was completed in 1960. The Wanamaker annex still stands.

Hippodrome hresThe Hippodrome – 756 Sixth Avenue between 43rd and 44th Streets Frederick Thompson and Jay H. Morgan architects, built 1904-05. Demolished 1939.

Claremont Inn hresThe Claremont Inn – Riverside Drive and 124th Street. Originally built as a private residence sometime between 1783 and 1807, architect unknown. Wealthy navigator and owner Michael Hogan named the estate Claremont after his birthplace County Clare, Ireland. Claremont became a popular roadhouse and restaurant which was acquired by the city in 1872. As the New York Times wrote in 1949, “By the simple expedient of “doing nothing” the Board of Estimate has converted historic Claremont Inn from a picturesque addition to the Riverside Park landscape into a ‘not very attractive’ boarded-up structure.” As the building was being demolished in 1951, two separate fires a week apart destroyed it.

Vanderbilt Mansion hresVanderbilt Mansion – 1 West 57th St and 742-748 Fifth Avenue between 57th & 58th Streets. Cornelius Vanderbilt II mansion, original portion by architect George B.Post 1883, expanded in 1893 by architect Richard Morris Hunt. The largest private house ever built in New York City. Demolished 1926. Bergdorf Goodman Department Store now occupies the site.

Charles M Schwab residence hresCharles M. Schwab Mansion – Riverside Drive between 73rd and 74th Streets. Architect Maurice Hebert, built 1902-06. Demolished 1948. The apartment building Schwab House occupies the site.

https://stuffnobodycaresabout.com/2015/06/10/20-historic-buildings-that-were-demolished/

#Beautiful NYC Buildings Demolished #Historic NYC Buildings Demolished #NYC

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carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory · 5 years ago

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Robin Watch

(above) The American Robin Box in the CMNH Educator Loan Program, with art work by John Franc. The loaning of educational materials has been suspended during the Covid-19 pandemic.

As a bird watcher, I’m out of the house early at this time of the year, listening for the calls of newly arrived migrating birds. New days begin in a still dark neighborhood with a steadily growing feathered chorus. Although the calls of a few Northern cardinals and Carolina wrens are close enough for me to guess the location of each singers’ perch, they are far outnumbered by American robins whose blended notes reach my ears from every compass point.

On recent mornings I’ve come to value the abundant presence of robins as a tonic to human nerves frazzled by the life-disrupting spread of Covid-19. The species’ horizon-wide dawn concert is a prelude to an active visible presence in the same territory all day. With minimal effort, little prior planning, and without violating protocol for social distance spacing, you can observe robins flying to and from cover, hopping over grassy feeding areas in search of worms, fighting rivals for mates and territory, and even gathering dried grass and mud for nest construction.

Photo by Amy Henrici.

Through such simple observations it’s possible to reach what naturalist Margaret Renkl, writing recently in The New York Times, termed “the alternate world we need right now, one that exists far beyond the impulse to scroll and scroll.”

A pre-pandemic, but still contemporary call for all of us to become better robin watchers can be found in A Season On The Wind, ornithologist Ken Kaufman’s 2019 account of spring bird migration near his home along the Lake Erie shore in western Ohio.

“Their songs are loud and rich and their colors are bold, from the deep yellow of the beak to the bright rufous orange of the chest. If the American robin were a rare bird, we would climb mountains or walk through fire to catch a glimpse of it. Why should we appreciate it any less just because it’s around us every day?” (A SEASON ON THE WIND, Inside the World of Spring Migration, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2019.)

A far older robin endorsement can be found in the writings of John James Audubon. In early June of 1833, when the renowned bird artist arrived on the barren coast of Labrador, he encountered a robin singing from a snow-free patch of grass.

“That song brought with it a thousand pleasing associations referring to the beloved land of my youth, and soon inspired me with resolution to persevere in my hazardous enterprise.”

Audubon’s praise for the species continues for several paragraphs, and his deep appreciation for the wide-ranging bird includes an aspect unfamiliar to modern robin watchers. After describing how wintering robins in the American south feed on “the fruits of our woods,” he reminds readers that under these circumstances “they are fat and juicy and afford excellent eating.”

For more information about robins including song recordings:

https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/American_Robin/id

For read a fuller account of Audubon’s praise for robins:

https://www.audubon.org/birds-of-america/american-robin

For Margaret Renkl’s full essay about the value of nature observation:

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/23/opinion/coronavirus-nature-outdoors.html

Patrick McShea works in the Education and Visitor Experience department of Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum employees are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

#Carnegie Museum of Natural History #American Robin #Birding #Anthropocene #A Season On the Wind #Spring

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v-thinks-on · 5 years ago

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A Break in the Chain

Part 3 of The Man Who Sold the World

First | Previous | Next

To Dr. Jonathan Holmes’s surprise, when he returned home from his investigation, the landlady greeted him at the door looking more than a little frazzled.

“Dr. Holmes, there you are! You’ve had two visitors while you’ve been out. Talia Houghton came by to say that she has the phone numbers you asked for.”

“Excellent,” Dr. Holmes replied - that, at least, was going just as planned. “Who else?”

“An old man. He let himself in and said he was going to wait in your sitting room - said he was a friend of yours.” She dropped her voice a little. “He hardly made it up the stairs, I was worried his legs were going to give out.”

Dr. Holmes recognized that description. The man was no doubt disguised as an old sailor, no doubt. He only belatedly remembered to say, “Thank you.”

There was one player absent whom he had not expected to make an appearance. But it seemed here he was, right on cue; it was two days after his dear Mary had come to ask for Holmes’s assistance when an old sailor had arrived in their sitting room and insisted he had some knowledge as to the whereabouts of the Aurora that he would only deliver to the detective himself.

Did the culprit think Dr. Holmes needed some help to solve their little puzzle? A hint? They had already made a poor imitation of his dear departed Mary, he had thought they considered him a sufficient enough substitute for the detective himself and would not disturb his dear old friend’s watery grave, but apparently they had decided to bring him in after all.

Dr. Holmes clenched his fists in anger. Could they not let the dead lie where they were? He had already suffered through their deaths once, he did not need these cruel, mocking reminders. He knew that the whole world he had once known was gone, he did not need a hollow recreation.

“Is everything alright?” the landlady asked - he heard her as though from some distance away.

Dr. Holmes forced himself to calm down. He would see what the mastermind behind this whole contrived game had in store for him now. Perhaps this would provide him with some fresh clue he could use to bring all of them to justice. He let out a long breath and unclenched his fists.

“I’m fine,” he said, though he did not even convince himself. “I suppose I’ll go up and see what this old friend of mine has to say.”

With that, he climbed the stairs up to the flat at 221B. He found the door unlocked as he had not left it - someone attempting to imitate Sherlock Holmes ought to, at the very least, have some small portion of his skills. Dr. Holmes stepped inside, locking the door behind him just in case he needed to detain his guest.

Sure enough, seated in what had once been Holmes’s and was now his usual place by the fire, was an old sailor. The man’s face was mostly covered by a scarf and bushy facial hair, no doubt fake. The distinctive dirt caked on his boot clearly indicated that he had spent a lot of time on Baker Street of late, and they did look familiar - it seemed the homeless man he had used as a blind when he was following Miss Marston had been watching him in turn.

“Hello, Sherlock Holmes, is it?” he asked without any attempt at pleasantries.

Keen, bright gray eyes stared back at him. Somehow the sight of this imposter made his blood boil even more than the mockery of Mary had. Perhaps it was his own fault for giving the culprit so much to work off of in imitating Holmes. All the others had been superficial replicas at best - after all, it was impossible to replicate someone’s appearance from a mere description - but for some reason this one cut him to the core. He felt tears threatening to moisten his eyes. He knew Holmes was dead, he needed no reminder.

“I am he,” the man said simply, his quick, high, somewhat strident voice was clear and young and achingly familiar.

Watson wanted to stand up and punch him, to demand that whoever it was stop his damned charade and face him as himself. It was impossible to repeat the past, no matter what anyone may want, he knew that and the culprit ought to learn it!

But Watson did none of those things. Instead he demanded, “What do you want with me?”

The man hesitated, but soon came to an answer, “I am here to see an old friend, is that not enough?”

“What? Do you not have news about the Aurora?” Watson’s voice came out harsher than he knew it should have if he wanted to get evidence out of this man, but he was beyond thinking clearly.

“I do have news of the Aurora as well, but I found my personal reason for visiting to be more important.”

“And pray tell, what is that?”

The actor’s eyes fell as though he had actually been injured by Watson’s scathing tone. He stood and for an instant Watson readied for a fight.

Slowly, the man lifted his hand to his scarf and drew it away from his face. Watson's every instinct screamed to stop him, to push him out the door before he could do more damage than he had already done by his impersonation. But Watson stood transfixed as familiar features gradually made themselves known. Next, the man removed bushy white fake eyebrows and whiskers, and lastly took off a white wig, which he held in front of him in both hands with an entirely sheepish air.

“Hello, my dear old friend,” Sherlock Holmes said at long last.

It took all of Watson's constitution not to faint on the spot. He was left breathless as though the wind had been knocked out of him, standing face to face with a ghost.

The ghost peered back at him with sharp, piercing gray eyes that practically shone with all the emotion that dared not encroach upon his thin, firm lips. His black, close cut hair, messy from the wig, framed a narrow, eager face that was much more gaunt than Watson remembered. Still, his hawk-like nose and square, prominent chin gave him an air of alertness and determination. Now that he stood at his full height, Watson remembered just how tall and lean he was. The sailor’s costume hung off of him, suddenly baggy about his thin frame. His long, delicate fingers, as always blotted with ink and chemicals, fidgeted nervously with the white wig.

It was utterly impossible. Watson may very well have conjured the vision straight from his memory. There were small differences here and there, but for all Watson knew, the man before him could have just stepped out of his past. Holmes looked little older than 40, not well over 100 and long dead besides. Watson’s brain recoiled and time seemed to stop in its tracks or perhaps even reel backwards from the shock.

“You- you’re dead,” he stuttered in shock that threatened to approach hysterics. “You died at Reichenbach. Moriarty-”

Holmes deliberately placed the wig upon his chair and took a step toward Watson so that there was only a foot between them. He held out his arms and took Watson’s hands in his own. He was solid and warm - real, alive. A hundred years seemed to fall away around them, as though it had all been a hazy dream.

“I am alive,” Holmes said, his voice calm and reassuring with only the slightest hint of a waver, “As are you. You are not the only one who has been deceptively bereaved.”

And so Watson stood at the heart of a paradox. Perhaps they were both dead, perhaps he was hallucinating, perhaps it was all an impossible dream and he would wake up back in the home he once shared with Mary, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps… The possibilities swirled around his skull and poured out his ears. But there Holmes stood in front of him, his hands warm and solid and alive in Watson’s own. No imposter could be this indescribably familiar.

“How?” was all Watson could stammer out.

Holmes gave him a crooked smile. “That’s the question. I can only begin to answer it, perhaps you may be able to fill in the rest. Come, I’m sure we have much to discuss.” He led the way to the settee, not relinquishing his hold on Watson - he could feel Holmes’s hand shaking a little in his own.

“How I reached my 160th birthday, I cannot say,” Holmes continued once they were comfortable. “I assumed I was some fluke, a freak of nature or a cosmic mistake - utterly inexplicable. I hardly expected you to share my sorry fate, but I cannot deny that I am glad to see you alive.”

The man before him displayed more of his heart than Holmes ever had. The emotion in his words was more likely a figment of Watson’s memory tinged by ages of wishful thinking than any reality. Holmes had cared for him, that Watson knew, but never like this.

Holmes seemed to take Watson’s wide-eyed gaping for incredulity and explained, “I am not quite so miraculous as to have returned from the dead. I faced Professor Moriarty at the Reichenbach Falls, prepared, as you know, to face my death. But at the last instant, I managed to wrest myself from the Professor’s grasp and he tumbled to his death alone. Perhaps it is because I evaded death then that it has missed me since, but that is hardly a scientific hypothesis and it does little to explain your situation.

“Having bested Professor Moriarty at Reichenbach, a wiser man would have returned the way he came and resumed his life the better for it, but I did not. At the time, I believe I rationalized my flight with fear of being pursued by Moriarty’s men, but even after I bested each of them in turn, I still hesitated to return. And so, the years passed and I remained on the run. Somehow it was all too easy to come up with excuses not to come home; it had already been too long, I would only disrupt the lives that had gone on without me. It built upon itself so naturally that before long it was too late. I could not have imagined that you would still be alive as I was.

“For the first several years - or it may have been closer to twenty - I continued working as a detective, traveling here or there under various pseudonyms, solving cases for hire or sport and writing my monographs - perhaps one or two of them reached you in England. Then the Great War came and Mycroft, who aided me all those years, until his death,” - Holmes’s face fell at the mention of his long dead brother - “He called upon me to spy for England in her hour of need, and that is how I have lived since. I was stationed in Germany through the World Wars and then sent to Moscow.

“For the past twenty years or more, I have been serving as a humble bartender, forgotten by the world at large. Once I eavesdropped on the most powerful men in Russia, but they have long since moved on, and I fear my British employers believe me dead as I assumed you were. When I heard word of the ‘Sherlock Holmes murders,’ as the press has been calling them, I decided it was past time I return to London, perhaps try my hand at solving the case and meet this Dr. Jonathan Holmes whose name I had heard in connection with the mystery. I could not have imagined that this promising upstart could possibly be you, but I would want it no other way.”

Holmes’s eyes practically glimmered as he looked at Watson, so earnestly, like there was nothing he wanted more in the world that to see him there.

“And so you have my tale,” Holmes concluded.

It was all too much. The way Holmes was looking at him, that impossible, incredible story, the fact that this man before him was such a perfect rendition of the dear old friend Watson had known so long ago.

“I can’t believe it” - Watson may have said the words aloud.

Even his wildest imaginings could not have created such a tale. And, as Holmes had always said, when the impossible was eliminated, what remained could only be the truth. Still, even as the evidence stood before his very eyes, as he held it in his hands, he could not believe it.

“I see that you’ve done very well for yourself,” Holmes remarked, cutting through Watson’s erratic thoughts.

“I’ve only been following your methods,” Watson insisted as his mind raced to catch up with the conversation. “I owe it all to your tutelage.”

“And a century of experience, no doubt. I confess, even I have been able to glean little of your history. To your neighbors, you are known only as a fixture, of course none are old enough to remember more.”

“It was after Mary’s death,” Watson began haltingly. “She died in ‘93.”

Holmes’s grasp on Watson’s hand tightened a little. “I didn’t know.”

Watson just shook his head. “It was long ago.” Watson paused a moment to collect himself before he continued, “I started to take some interest in crime for something to do, as a distraction. After you, well I always read the criminal section in the paper, and I even took up a bit of a hobby reading the agony section in search of something beyond the usual twaddle.

“It didn’t amount to much until the Adair murder. I was interested in it from the first; it seemed like exactly the sort of thing you would go for. Our old friend Lestrade was on the case. The papers made it sound like he was onto something, but I knew well enough by then that he couldn’t make head or tail of it. It got so bad that one evening he showed up at my practice and asked if I could take a look, that maybe, after working with you, I might be able to shine some light where they couldn’t. We caught him more by coincidence than anything, but after that it became something of a regular thing.

“Eventually, I moved back to Baker Street and started back up your practice. I was never as successful as you were, but I made do. I don’t know why my age hasn’t caught up with me, but I confess I haven’t paid it much heed. I changed my name because I ran into some trouble with the records department on account of my age. There was some suspicion of fraud - that was probably the first time I realized I should have been dead. So, I thought I might as well take your name, since I was already living in your place.”

“You certainly do it justice,” Holmes said with a smile. “It’s a shame you haven’t published accounts of your own adventures. I particularly enjoyed the ones you published while I was on the run. Meanwhile, I’ve been playing the part of a man by the name of Ivan, but I fear another John Holmes would be redundant, so perhaps it is time I dig back up my old name, if you have no objection to sharing it.”

“Of course! It’s yours after all.”

“Thank you, I’m honored to share it.” Then Holmes changed topic and remarked, “I don’t suppose you require some aid in your current case? I have discovered that the Aurora is in the hands of a fellow named Johnson who was asked by a man with a peg-leg to repair its fully functional rudder. I was informed that it will be leaving at seven o’clock tonight. I have stationed a street boy by Johnson’s yard to signal when they launch. All we need to do is commandeer a faster boat of our own and the chase is on!” He rubbed his hands together in enthusiasm.

His enthusiasm was contagious, but Dr. Holmes had already considered and dismissed such a plan in favor of something the culprits would be less likely to expect. Still, Watson struggled to find the right words to explain. “I tried that with Jefferson Hope, doing the same thing you did and expecting the same result, but he fled before we could catch him. The man behind these murders clearly knows your old cases, so we have to stay one step ahead of him. I actually have a plan of my own...” Watson faltered.

Sherlock Holmes leaned toward Watson to examine him with an expression of utmost interest. Watson was convinced he hadn’t explained it half as well as he should have, but Holmes was impassive as ever.

“Go on,” Holmes urged.

“Well, Mi-” Watson corrected himself, “Detective-Inspector Houghton came by earlier today to say that she has the culprits’ cell phone numbers, which she can use to locate them - I’m not exactly sure how it works, but it does. That way, we can find their hideout without them ever knowing and ambush them there. There are already officers watching the river as backup, just in case, but hopefully we won’t need them.”

Holmes watched him with the most peculiar expression. Watson was half convinced it was disgust and half convinced it was ridicule and somehow, between the two, he managed to find the space to hope that it was pride. It was as though he was some fascinating specimen, the likes of which Holmes had never before encountered.

“Very well,” Holmes said at last, leaping to his feet, “If that’s the case then we have no time to waste. Shall I call a cab to take us to the Scotland Yard to speak with this Detective-Inspector?”

Watson shook his head, still bewildered by it all. “I can just use the telephone. We’ll meet her wherever they’re hiding out.”

The doctor forced himself to his feet and made his way over to the telephone. Holmes watched keenly over his shoulder as he dialed Mrs. Houghton’s number from memory.

“Hello,” she said, “Dr. Holmes?”

Dr. Holmes nodded though he knew she couldn’t see him.

“Did your landlady tell you? I got the phone numbers and I’ve located Small not far from the river. We’re ready to go in and arrest all of them unless you have something else in mind.”

“No, that’s exactly what I had in mind,” Dr. Holmes said with some relief. “What’s the address? We can meet you there.”

He scribbled down the location as she recited it.

“We’ve found where the Aurora is being kept,” Dr. Holmes added, just in case. “It’s in for repairs at Johnson’s yard, not far from there. If they flee, that’s where they’ll leave from.”

“Great. I’ll tell the officers who have been patrolling the river to get over there.”

“If the boat is about to depart, a boy will stand by the dock and wave a white handkerchief.”

“I’ll pass it on. See you soon.”

“Yes, see you soon,” Dr. Holmes said and hung up the phone.

Holmes was still watching him with a quizzical expression.

“What is it?” Watson asked a little more tersely than he had intended. “If I’ve done something wrong, I ought to know before we put it into action.”

Holmes shook his head. “No, you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m sorry for getting in your way, you seem to have everything well under control.”

Watson wondered if this was what it felt like to be an Inspector of the Yard working with Sherlock Holmes. Maybe he was just imagining the sharp undercurrent of ridicule, but whether it was there or not, he needed to focus on everything that was about to unfold that very evening, “We ought to be going - if you wish to see the resolution of the case.”

“I wouldn’t miss it!” Holmes declared, any hint of an edge gone from his voice as though it had never been.

And so they were off, speeding through the busy London streets. They spent most of the ride in a tense silence. Watson attempted to focus, to make sure that no detail had been forgotten, while Holmes reclined almost languidly in his seat beside him, staring out at the city as it passed them by. Holmes made no effort to begin a conversation, and despite all of the questions that churned in the back of his mind, Watson was at a loss for words.

They saw the flashing lights of several police cars before they reached the address. Watson told the cabby to stop there and they walked over to the perimeter. Holmes remained silent and let Watson take the lead for the time being.

“What’s going on?” Watson asked the officer watching over the scene. With Holmes watching everything over his shoulder, Watson felt like a rookie officer being tested by a superior, but he forged on all the same.

“There’s nothing to see here-” the officer began to recite, but stopped short. “You’re Dr. Holmes? You work with D.I. Houghton?”

The doctor nodded.

“Everything’s mostly taken care of here. D.I. Houghton is just finishing up.”

“Good, I have to talk to her.”

“After you.” Holmes helped Watson under the perimeter with exaggerated politesse.

“Who’s he?” the officer asked.

“He’s with me,” the doctor explained the complicated situation as succinctly as he could.

The officer seemed to accept it and they made their way past the line of police cars without further incident. The doctor soon spotted Mrs. Houghton leaning against one of the cars, talking with Detective Inspector Charles Gregson, her partner in the squad.

“Dr. Holmes,” Inspector Gregson called out to them, “Talia said you’d be here. I’m afraid you’re running late.”

“Not too late, I hope,” the doctor said.

“That depends,” Mrs. Houghton said darkly. “I hope you’re not looking for Jonathan Small because he was dead when we arrived. According to a couple of men who were working for him, the child that Small kidnapped killed him with his own poison when she tried to escape. So, all we’ve got left now are the child, who we can’t talk to until we’ve found a translator, some people who were working with Small, and Patrick and Alan Smith - you’d recognize them as Mordecai and Jim - who claim they were just hired by Small to get the boat.”

“What about Miss Marston?” he asked urgently.

“We’ve just traced one of Small’s contacts to the address she gave you. Do you think it’s safe to bring her in for questioning?”

“It shouldn’t tell her employer any more than he already knows, now that we’ve found Small - or at least his men. Do you have enough evidence for an arrest?”

“Would you say she’s a flight risk?”

“Certainly.”

“In that case, I think we have enough evidence to hold her for a little while, at least,” Mrs. Houghton said with a glance at Inspector Gregson.

“Then we have not a minute to waste,” Dr. Holmes declared.

All four of them piled into a police car, Holmes and Watson in the back and Mrs. Houghton at the wheel. Once they were comfortably outside of the perimeter, Mrs. Houghton glanced at Sherlock Holmes through the rear-view mirror.

“So, who are you?” she asked. “I take it he’s the ‘we’ you mentioned on the phone.”

“Sherlock Holmes, at your service,” he said with a flourish, despite the cramped quarters.

“What? Is he your brother visiting from out of town?”

Holmes chuckled and Watson had to bite back laughter as he answered, “No, he’s an old friend. He’s the one who inspired me to become a consulting detective - he’s the original.”

“You flatter me,” Holmes said. “I am but a visitor who has been away from London for much too long.”

“I see.” Mrs. Houghton sounded a little less than convinced.

“You’re a consulting detective too?” Inspector Gregson asked with a glance over his shoulder at Holmes.

“I merely dabble in deduction,” Holmes demurred. “I believe I missed your name?”

“Charles Gregson,” he said.

“Detection must run in your family. I take it you are descended from Inspector Tobias Gregson?”

“What? How did you know that?” Inspector Gregson nearly leaped from his seat in surprise despite the seatbelt fastened across his chest.

“I am somewhat familiar with the criminal history of London.”

“I knew Tobias was well known in his day, but I didn’t know people recognized the name even now!” Inspector Gregson exclaimed.

“You do not do your great-grandfather - is it? - enough credit.”

Watson detected a hint of sarcasm in Holmes’s tone, but Inspector Gregson seemed deaf to it as he answered, “Apparently!”

The doctor only half listened as Holmes plunged into an account of some old cases that had involved the late Inspector Gregson, much to the younger Inspector’s amusement. Holmes portrayed the late man of the Yard in a much more flattering light than Watson had ever heard him speak of Inspector Gregson in life. But the doctor had little thought to spare their conversation as he kept an eye on the road, hoping with mounting nervous energy that the impostor, Miss Marston, would still be there when they arrived.

Finally, the car rolled to a stop and they all stepped out. Holmes and Inspector Gregson fell silent as they all hurried to the front door of the darkened house. Mrs. Houghton did the honors of pounding at the door loudly enough to wake anyone who happened to be sleeping inside.

There was no response.

Mrs. Houghton tried again, even louder if possible, and Inspector Gregson rang the doorbell for good measure.

Still, no answer.

“I'll go take a look around back,” Inspector Gregson offered.

Holmes joined him as he went to circle the house. The doctor and Mrs. Houghton were left waiting in the front in case someone came to the door after all.

As soon as the other two were out of earshot, Mrs. Houghton said, keeping her voice low just in case, “Sherlock Holmes, that was the name of the detective in those stories. Who is he really?”

The doctor sighed and shook his head in an attempt to clear it. With everything else, he had forgotten that he had initially mistaken Holmes for an impostor. It still seemed too good to be true.

“That’s his real name. It’s just a coincidence.” The lie even sounded hollow to him, but the truth was even more unbelievable.

“You’re sure?”

The doctor nodded. “I would know him anywhere.” That, at least, was the truth.

“And you don’t think he’s involved?”

“No, he couldn’t be.”

More conversationally, she asked, “So, what’s he doing in London?”

“He heard about the case and it piqued his interest. I don’t know what he’ll do now; I suppose he expected to see me as much as I expected him.”

“He showed up unannounced?”

“Yes, in disguise,” the doctor could not help but add.

She laughed. “He seems like he would.”

“It was a favorite trick of his. At least this time he didn't remove the disguise while my back was turned - I would have fainted from the shock.”

“It's been a while? How do you two know each other?”

“We were flatmates until I got married. A mutual acquaintance introduced us.�� He smiled at the old memory, no doubt rosier for all the time that had passed.

“You were married?”

He nodded. “A long time ago.”

Inspector Gregson returned before they could continue. Sherlock Holmes was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Holmes?” the doctor asked, a little more exasperated than perplexed.

“I thought he’d come around to join you,” Inspector Gregson said. “He told me he would meet me around front. You’re sure he’s trustworthy?”

The doctor answered reflexively, “I would trust him with my life.”

Inspector Gregson appeared taken aback, but did not question it. Mrs. Houghton gave him a knowing smile.

“He’ll probably make an entrance any time now,” the doctor explained. More importantly, he asked, “Did you find anything around back?”

Inspector Gregson shook his head. “Not a peep or even a footprint to go off of. Either they’re holed up in the house or have been gone for some time. Unfortunately, it hasn’t rained recently enough for there to be any useful footprints.”

“In that case, we have no choice but to enter by force,” Mrs. Houghton said.

However, before anyone could attempt to kick the door down, they all heard a loud creak from inside. The door swung open to reveal Sherlock Holmes standing upon the threshold.

Watson was the first to recover from the initial shock. “I take it the house is empty?”

Watson thought he saw a flicker of disappointment cross Holmes’s face and for an instant he felt a little sorry for his impatience, but Holmes recovered so fast Watson almost suspected he had imagined it.

“You can see for yourselves, if you like,” Holmes said with a wry smile.

They all stepped inside and the four of them searched the house from top to bottom, but Miss Mary Marston was gone without a trace. There was little evidence that anyone had lived there at all and no suggestion of where its former residents could have possibly gone. All that had been left for them to find was a pair of disposable phones sitting in the middle of the dining room table.

Plainclothes officers were stationed in the neighborhood to keep an eye on the abandoned house, but Dr. Holmes did not have high hopes.

It was getting on toward the middle of the afternoon the next day. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson had reclaimed what had once been their usual chairs by the fireplace in the sitting room of 221B Baker Street.

“He died in ‘84,” Holmes was saying, “And when the Soviet Union dissolved in ‘91, my mission followed. As the regulars would tell you, I’ve been handy in solving a few of their little problems, but those are mere trifles. I’ve been stagnating, Watson! I’m sorry you have to see me in such a state.”

“You’ve given up on the criminal class of Moscow too?” Watson asked, only half joking.

“Pah!” Holmes exclaimed. “Forget criminals! I’ve been chasing after lost boots and cheating wives.”

Watson gave a dark chuckle. “I’ve had a few of those cases myself. The job of a consulting detective is becoming increasingly obsolete as the police force improves - they’ve co-opted many of your old methods. People come to me mainly for cases outside the officials’ jurisdiction. Ever so often Mrs. Houghton, and sometimes a colleague of hers, will come to me for consultation when they come across something particularly puzzling, but I fear even then most of my expertise is in old cases that they will soon be able to more easily find on their computers. ”

“You underrate yourself and your occupation,” Holmes insisted. “I find the officials often need someone to put the pieces together for them.”

Watson gave him a skeptical look, but did not argue.

“And if I am not mistaken,” Holmes said, sounding quite confident that he was not, “Here one comes now in search of our aid.”

Watson glanced out the window to see Mrs. Houghton walking up to the front door. He heard her knock, followed shortly by the pounding of her footsteps on the stairs. Holmes stood to welcome her into the flat, allowing Watson to remain in his chair.

“Mr. Holmes,” she exclaimed in surprise, “You’re here just in time to hear the latest news on the case from last night.”

Holmes chuckled. “It’s little coincidence. The doctor was kind enough to provide me with refuge for the night, so I’ve been here since.”

“Come in.” The doctor waved them both into the room proper. “What’s the word?”

Holmes resumed his chair by the fireplace and Mrs. Houghton took the near end of the settee.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” she explained once she was seated. “Doctor?” she asked with a glance at Holmes. The doctor nodded his assent and she continued, “I’ll get the bad news out of the way first. We haven’t had any luck locating Miss Marston, and from what the men working for Small have said, she was the one organising things. Other than that, they haven’t given us much to go off of, and we’re starting to suspect it’s because they don’t know much more about what was going on. They were just hired for one job.”

“What of the good news?” the doctor asked warily.

“We’ve finally found an interpreter to talk to the girl. Thankfully she knows Hindi, I don’t know what we would have done otherwise. She’s actually from Andaman Island, from one of the indigenous tribes. A couple months ago, the man who was calling himself Jonathan Small arrived in her village with a few other men - we’re still trying to find them.

“They visited a couple of times and seemed particularly interested in talking to children around her age. One night, they broke into her house. She remembers waking up to see them in her room, but they must have knocked her out because she doesn’t remember anything after that until she was on a plane over the ocean. They flew her back to England, dressed her up in a loincloth, handed her a spear, a blow gun, and a bunch of poisoned blow darts, and told her that she had to kill Mr. Duvall or they would kill her. When they didn’t need her, she was kept her in a small cage in their hideout.

“She described what happened with Mr. Duvall, and it’s pretty much what we expected. They had her climb onto the roof and inside through the attic. When she arrived, Mr. Duvall was probably already dead, but they made her shoot him with a blowdart anyway, and help Small in through the window. They finished setting up the scene, had her step in some tar, and left back over the roof.

“When they were done, they locked her up again. Yesterday, before we reached their hideout, they were apparently getting ready to move and she tried to escape. She still had one of the blow darts and stabbed Small with it when he tried to grab her. His accomplices managed to get her back into the cage, where she was when we found her.

“Smith and his son deny knowing anything about her. We’ve got one of Small’s accomplices who corroborates most of it. The other is still keeping quiet, but I think we’ve got enough without him. We’re working to get the girl home as soon as we’ve finished questioning her. She’s pretty shaken up, as you might imagine.”

“It’s horrible,” Dr. Holmes said at last.

Mrs. Houghton nodded in grim agreement. “We’re going to prosecute Small’s accomplices on charges of human trafficking and murder.”

“At least the child will have justice,” Dr. Holmes said, though it seemed to be little consolation.

He was at a loss for words and Mrs. Houghton seemed to be of a similar mind. The doctor had been so preoccupied with defending his own past that he had not even paused to consider those alive who were affected by the culprit’s heinous crimes.

They hardly noticed Holmes, who up until this point had remained an impassive portrait of contemplation, leaning back in the chair, his eyes all but closed, and his hands tented in front of him with his fingertips pressed together. He glanced between the doctor and the Inspector before he broke the silence, “The best we can do now is stop them from doing any more damage. Do you have any other leads?”

“We’ll do what we can to find ‘Mary Marston,’ but the trail’s only getting colder,” Mrs. Houghton said.

“What of Mr. Thaddeus Sholto?” the doctor suggested. “Have you gotten anything out of him?”

“No, he’s sticking to his story about being an out of work actor. I doubt we have enough to prosecute him.”

“We may be forced to wait until they strike again and hope they make a mistake,” Dr. Holmes said, none too happy about it.

“We’ll catch him yet,” Sherlock Holmes insisted with a gleam in his eyes.

“Hopefully before he does too much more damage,” Mrs. Houghton said. “It’s time I get going. I take it I’ll be seeing more of you, Mr. Holmes, Doctor.”

With that, she stood and took her leave. Holmes watched the door close after her with an appraising gaze.

“She seems a promising young officer,” he remarked.

Watson couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or sarcastic and made to reply.

Holmes beat him to it, taking the conversation in an entirely different direction, “What would you think of that? Seeing more of me. I don’t have anything to return to in Moscow and I admit I miss the old detective work. Perhaps I’ll start up a practice in London again, though I don’t mean to be in competition with you. We could even work a few cases together, for old times’ sake.”

Watson smiled at the thought. “You’re always welcome in Baker Street.” He hesitated. “There’s still an extra room if you’d prefer the company of a flatmate. Though, I must admit, I’ve been living as a lone bachelor all these years, I fear I’ve accumulated many habits that aren’t exactly conducive to company.”

Holmes seemed uncertain, fidgeting his long fingers as he rambled, “If you wouldn’t mind it, I confess I’ve had more than my share of solitude, though I could certainly find other arrangements if that would be more amenable to you...”

“No,” Watson interrupted, “Solitude has become distasteful to me as well. I would like nothing more than for you to return to Baker Street.”

“You’re certain? I doubt I’ve become any easier to live with.”

“Absolutely,” Watson said and he held out a hand to Holmes, who, after an instant’s hesitation, eagerly took it.

#v writes #Sherlock Holmes #H/W #The Man Who Sold the World

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upperpeninsulabreakingnews · 7 years ago

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In a series of press release, Upper Peninsula drug teams announced today they had made numerous meth and pill drug busts in past few days

By Greg Peterson S.E. Social Justice Breaking News Owner, News Director 906-273-2433

n Houghton County, Upper Peninsula Substance Enforcement team (UPSET) arrested two men in connection with a meth investigation:

The suspects are:

35-year-old Terry Bartlett of Houghton, MI and a 29-year-old Hancock, MI man. U.P. Breaking News is still trying to confirm the name of the Hancock man.

Meanwhile in deputies raided a meth and heroin drug house in Menominee , MI on Fri., Dec. 5, 2018 – located across from the Menominee High School and arrested four suspects.

Three suspects were arrested on immediately on warrants by the Menominee County Sheriff’s department. During the search, the person in charge of the residence showed up and was arrested.

Six charges have been filed against the four subjects who remain in the Menominee County Jail. The charges include possession of heroin and meth, possession of meth with intent to deliver within a school zone, and maintaining a drug house.

Police confiscated a small amount of heroin and meth plus many items needed to run a drug ring and package drugs for sale

Officers found baggies used for packaging narcotics, over 100 syringe needles, a ledger to account for drug sales, digital scales and more.

The suspects even had Narcan, that can be used to save a person’s life during an opioid overdose.

In Wakefield, MI, two people were arrested Friday by the Gogebic Iron Area Narcotics team (GIANT).

38-year-old Paul Robert Rooni and 45-year-old Jessica Ann Boggetto are both charged with conspiracy to deliver of a Schedule 2 controlled substance – a seven-year felony, and a high court misdemeanor of maintaining a drug house that carries two years if convicted.

Boggetto is also charged possession of a Schedule 2 controlled substance, a two-year felony.

Rooni and Boggetto are both currently lodged at the Gogebic County Jail on a $200,000 at 10 percent bond.

GIANT was assisted with a search warrant by the Michigan Department of Health and Human Services.

To contact GIANT or report something to them, you can call their toll-free number at 1-855-644-4219 or email them at [email protected].

Drug busts: Meth, pill arrests across the U.P. – Houghton, Menominee, and Wakefield In a series of press release, Upper Peninsula drug teams announced today they had made numerous meth and pill drug busts in past few days…

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copblaster · 4 years ago

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Did Judge James Towery get Police Chief Eddie Garcia fired?

Judge James Towery allowed a felon armed with several weapons, a silencer, and drugs free with no bail. Police Chief Eddie Garcia was livid. He called out Judge Towery publicly for endangering the public. Roughly two months later Eddie Garcia announced that he would be retiring from the San Jose Police Department. A few months after the retirement announcement he took a job as the new Police Chief for Houston. Maybe he wanted to uproot his young family move away from the San Jose, where he grew up. Maybe he wanted to make half as much money in Houston. Or did Judge Towery get mad? Why did Judge Towery intervene in criminal court in the first place? He has been exclusively a Family Court Judge for the last several years. What I do know is that Judge Towery doesn't like to be criticized. He had me poisoned for making complaints against him. He is also corrupt. He let my son get molested to help an attorney get assets placed into trust. I was also followed by young Latino men who resembled like gang members. They all wore red attire. Some had red bandannas hanging out of their pockets. You can read more here: https://www.nbcbayarea.com/news/local/south-bay/san-jose-police-chief-fed-up-over-felons-release/2234581/ http://www.therobingroom.com/california/Judge.aspx?id=15387 https://copblaster.com/blast/34409/judge-james-e-towery-sex-trafficked-all-of-my-children https://copblaster.com/blast/35526/judge-james-towery-threatens-me-with-prison-or-death https://copblaster.com/blast/26041/valerie-houghton-is-an-attorney-who-sex-trafficked-my-children #judgejamestowery #policechief #eddiegarcia #sanjose #houston http://dlvr.it/Rz3l0K

#Police #City

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gordonwilliamsweb · 4 years ago

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Public Health Experts Worry About Boom-Bust Cycle of Support

Congress has poured tens of billions of dollars into state and local public health departments in response to the covid-19 pandemic, paying for masks, contact tracers and education campaigns to persuade people to get vaccinated.

This story also ran on The Associated Press. It can be republished for free.

Public health officials who have juggled bare-bones budgets for years are happy to have the additional money. Yet they worry it will soon dry up as the pandemic recedes, continuing a boom-bust funding cycle that has plagued the U.S. public health system for decades. If budgets are slashed again, they warn, that could leave the nation where it was before covid: unprepared for a health crisis.

“We need funds that we can depend on year after year,” said Dr. Mysheika Roberts, the health commissioner of Columbus, Ohio.

When Roberts started in Columbus in 2006, an emergency preparedness grant paid for more than 20 staffers. By the time the coronavirus pandemic hit, it paid for about 10. Relief money that came through last year helped the department staff up its covid response teams. While the funding has helped the city cope with the immediate crisis, Roberts wonders if history will repeat itself.

After the pandemic is over, public health officials across the U.S. fear, they’ll be back to scraping together money from a patchwork of sources to provide basic services to their communities — much like after 9/11, SARS and Ebola.

When the mosquito-borne Zika virus tore through South America in 2016, causing serious birth defects in newborn babies, members of Congress couldn’t agree how, and how much, to spend in the U.S. for prevention efforts, such as education and mosquito abatement. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention took money from its Ebola efforts, and from state and local health department funding, to pay for the initial Zika response. Congress eventually allocated $1.1 billion for Zika, but by then mosquito season had passed in much of the U.S.

“Something happens, we throw a ton of money at it, and then in a year or two we go back to our shrunken budgets and we can’t do the minimum things we have to do day in and day out, let alone be prepared for the next emergency,” said Chrissie Juliano, executive director of the Big Cities Health Coalition, which represents leaders of more than two dozen public health departments.

Funding for Public Health Emergency Preparedness, which pays for emergency capabilities for state and local health departments, dropped by about half between the 2003 and 2021 fiscal years, accounting for inflation, according to Trust for America’s Health, a public health research and advocacy organization.

Even the federal Prevention and Public Health Fund, established with the Affordable Care Act to provide $2 billion a year for public health, was raided for cash over the past decade. If the money hadn’t been touched, eventually local and state health departments would have gotten an additional $12.4 billion.

Several lawmakers, led by Democratic U.S. Sen. Patty Murray of Washington, are looking to end the boom-bust cycle with legislation that would eventually provide $4.5 billion annually in core public health funding. Health departments carry out essential government functions — such as managing water safety, issuing death certificates, tracking sexually transmitted diseases and preparing for infectious outbreaks.

Spending for state public health departments dropped by 16% per capita from 2010 to 2019, and spending for local health departments fell by 18%, KHN and The Associated Press found in a July investigation. At least 38,000 public health jobs were lost at the state and local level between the 2008 recession and 2019. Today, many public health workers are hired on a temporary or part-time basis. Some are paid so poorly they qualify for public aid. Those factors reduce departments’ ability to retain people with expertise.

Compounding those losses, the pandemic has prompted an exodus of public health officials because of harassment, political pressure and exhaustion. A yearlong analysis by the AP and KHN found at least 248 leaders of state and local health departments resigned, retired or were fired between April 1, 2020, and March 31, 2021. Nearly 1 in 6 Americans lost a local public health leader during the pandemic. Experts say it is the largest exodus of public health leaders in American history.

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Brian Castrucci, CEO of the de Beaumont Foundation, which advocates for public health, calls Congress’ giant influx of cash in response to the crisis “wallpaper and drapes” because it doesn’t restore public health’s crumbling foundation.

“I worry at the end of this we’re going to hire up a bunch of contact tracers — and then lay them off soon thereafter,” Castrucci said. “We are continuing to kind of go from disaster to disaster without ever talking about the actual infrastructure.”

Castrucci and others say dependable money is needed for high-skill professionals, such as epidemiologists — data-driven disease detectives — and for technology upgrades that would help track outbreaks and get information to the public.

In Ohio, the computer system used to report cases to the state predates the invention of the iPhone. State officials had said for years they wanted to upgrade it, but they lacked the money and political will. Many departments across the country have relied on fax machines to report covid cases.

During the pandemic, Ohio’s state auditor found that nearly 96% of local health departments it surveyed had problems with the state’s disease reporting system. Roberts said workers interviewing patients had to navigate several pages of questions, a major burden when handling 500 cases daily.

The system was so outdated that some information could be entered only in a non-searchable comment box, and officials struggled to pull data from the system to report to the public — such as how many people who tested positive had attended a Black Lives Matter rally, which last summer was a key question for people trying to understand whether protests contributed to the virus’s spread.

Ohio is working on a new system, but Roberts worries that, without a dependable budget, the state won’t be able to keep that one up to date either.

“You’re going to need to upgrade that,” Roberts said. “And you're going to need dollars to support that.”

In Washington, the public health director for Seattle and King County, Patty Hayes, said she is asked all the time why there isn’t a single, central place to register for a vaccine appointment. The answer comes down to money: Years of underfunding left departments across the state with antiquated computer systems that were not up to the task when covid hit.

Hayes recalls a time when her department would conduct mass vaccination drills, but that system was dismantled when the money dried up after the specter of 9/11 faded.

Roughly six years ago, an analysis found that her department was about $25 million short of what it needed annually for core public health work. Hayes said the past year has shown that’s an underestimate. For example, climate change is prompting more public health concerns, such as the effect on residents when wildfire smoke engulfed much of the Pacific Northwest in September.

Public health officials in some areas may struggle to make the case for more stable funding because a large swath of the public has questioned — and often been openly hostile toward — the mask mandates and business restrictions that public health officials have imposed through the pandemic.

In Missouri, some county commissioners who were frustrated at public health restrictions withheld money from the departments.

In Knox County, Tennessee, Mayor Glenn Jacobs narrated a video posted in the fall that showed a photo of health officials after referencing “sinister forces.” Later, someone spray-painted “DEATH” on the department office building. The Board of Health was stripped of its powers in March and given an advisory role. A spokesperson for the mayor’s office declined to comment on the video.

“This is going to change the position of public health and what we can and cannot do across the country,” said Dr. Martha Buchanan, the head of the health department. “I know it’s going to change it here.”

A KHN and AP investigation in December found at least 24 states were crafting legislation that would limit or remove public health powers.

Back in Seattle, locally based companies have pitched in money and staff members for vaccine sites. Microsoft is hosting one location, while Starbucks offered customer service expertise to help design the sites. Hayes is grateful, but she wonders why a critical government function didn’t have the resources it needed during a pandemic.

If public health had been getting dependable funding, her staff could have been working more effectively with the data and preparing for emerging threats in the state where the first U.S. covid case was confirmed.

“They'll look back at this response to the pandemic in this country as a great example of a failure of a country to prioritize the health of its citizens, because it didn't commit to public health,” she said. “That will be part of the story.”

KHN senior correspondent Anna Maria Barry-Jester and Montana correspondent Katheryn Houghton contributed to this report.

KHN (Kaiser Health News) is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. Together with Policy Analysis and Polling, KHN is one of the three major operating programs at KFF (Kaiser Family Foundation). KFF is an endowed nonprofit organization providing information on health issues to the nation.

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This story can be republished for free (details).

Public Health Experts Worry About Boom-Bust Cycle of Support published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

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stephenmccull · 4 years ago

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Public Health Experts Worry About Boom-Bust Cycle of Support