My Love Letter to NYC

I love cities. I always have. I find them energizing and inspiring. New York most of all. Over the years, I have been lucky enough to see quite a few cities around the world, and while they all have their charms, Paris is perfect in the springtime, Madrid magical in winter, and Sydney's summertime can't be beat, there is nothing in the world like New York City in the fall.

It always brings me a thrill, to be part of the ballet of bodies criss-crossing the busy sidewalks, weaving in perfect syncopation. New Yorkers pass each other like swifts, with just the bare minimum and precise amount of room necessary to avoid a crash. It is glorious. I'm attune to the sights, the tourists, the shop windows, a photographer trying to get a shot of her model from across the street, as cars and trucks force her to be momentarily unseen. I adore the sounds as well, people speaking languages I can't identify, birds chirping, horns honking, the slap sound of paper pulled off a stack and thrust at you, and yes, even the scents, leaves underfoot, roasting chestnuts, fancy lady perfume, all mixed in with exhaust fumes. I love it all. I stop thinking, I just breathe and live in the moment. It is a type of meditation in motion.

I had my perfect day in NYC yesterday. My morning was spent at the glorious Sisley Spa at The Carlyle Hotel on 76th near Madison. The combination of old world elegance and modern spa treatments make me so happy. An elevator operator! And their glass of champagne is served in crystal, and it isn't plonk! Heaven. After being steamed and kneaded into feeling like Wagu beef, I took a great walk back to Grand Central. The weather was my absolute favorite, sunny, with just enough of a crisp breeze to make walking a non-sweaty joy. I windowed shopped at every jeweler between The Carlyle and the train. I rescued a pack of lost German tourists, and got them pointed towards the right subway. I ate a dirty water dog with sauerkraut and mustard. I got to be a New Yorker again for a few hours. That's as close as I get to Nirvana.

L'Shana Tovah

First of all, and most importantly. L'Shana Tovah to all, I hope you are inscribed in the Book of Life and have a happy, healthy, and sweet New Year. To anyone I accidentally wronged this year, I'm sorry and I will try to do better next year, to anyone I purposely wronged, I am very sorry and will try to be a better person next year.

The Jewish holidays inevitably make me miss my mom. The same way the first Pats game of the season makes me miss my dad.  If we are lucky, only the good memories stay present after our parents are long. I am very lucky.

Thinking about my mom and the High Holidays inevitably leads me to thinking about my mom's jewelry. She loved jewelry, and all things sparkly. My mom grew up in a working class neighborhood in a  working class town, her father was a tailor, but died when she was in High School. I have the last present he ever gave her, for her sixteenth birthday, a moonstone ring, saved for my daughter.  I love it, but I can't wear it, because she wore it every day of her life, so it seems too much like her for me to put on. My daughter was only three when my mom died, so she will be able to wear it someday without the pain of the loss.

My grandmother was an immigrant who never learned to speak English all that well. Money was tight after my grandfather died. My grandmother had some money from my grandfather's social security.  My Uncle Sam was ten years older than my mom and was already established working a factory job, so he helped support his mom and baby sister. After High School my mom got a job as a Secretary in that factory and helped support the family as well. She worked there even after she and my dad got married, while they waited to have children, and then later, while they waited to adopt. She loved pretty things, but mostly sparkly things. Jewelry was an outward expression to the world that she was taken care of, that she was safe. The cultural history of the Jews and portable wealth is well documented, and that was part of her feelings of safety as well.  "If it all goes down the tubes, we can run for the boarder with all the jewelry sewn into the hems of our clothes."  I never understood her, never thought I could feel that way, we were Americans, but here we are, America 2019, and I understand her now.

Some time after my mom and dad got married, they started a small business, and moved from working class to middle class. Although I don't think either of them ever felt secure there. But my mom was always striving to be appropriate to her station, and wore her nice quality, solid, one-carat engagement ring, alongside her wedding band, pretty much every day (except in summer, when she had a special white, enameled, summer band that took the place of both). But for the holidays the big guns came out and she would wear her twenty-fifth anniversary diamond to shul. Rosh Hashanah services were interminable for me as a child (because they ARE!) and my reward for good behavior was getting to play with my mom's rings, moving them back and forth on her finger to catch the ceiling lights in the Synagogue and sometimes even catching the lights from the Bimah.  I could feel the waves of contentment coming off of her as she watched her little girl as entranced by her jewelry as she was. I sometimes find myself playing with my own rings like that now. Even without the synagogue lights.

I am not an observant Jew. I don't believe in God, or that organized religion is a good thing. But I am a fervent believer in cultural traditions. So for Rosh Hashanah although I don't go to shul, I do make a brisket the size of a Buick, apples and honey, and cheat and buy the tzimmetzes already cooked from Whole Foods. I very much like the idea of taking a couple days to reflect on the past year and apologize for my mistakes.  I miss my mom, and I am glad that I can look back to the last conversation we ever had. It was about a fifth anniversary ring Peter was getting me. Because I know that conversation made her feel at peace, knowing I was taken care of and safe. We sad our "I love yous" at the end of the phone call, not knowing we wouldn't have another chance. She had not been written into the Book of Life for another year. But we got to say it.

My New Years wish for all of you is that you are able to say your "I love yous" hoping you have more time, but making it count if you don't.

Like many spouses (oh who am I kidding, husbands), my spouse can be difficult to buy presents for. He either has everything he wants, or when he sees something he wants, he buys it for himself (usually the week of his birthday, our anniversary, or Christmas, but that’s another story). Last year I discovered something he really wanted, and though I was able to buy part of it (thank you Rye Historical Society for your historic house marker program! https://www.ryehistory.org/give/#anchor-link-marker) the part he really wanted was the history of the house, not just the date it was built, even if it was presented on a lovely house plaque.

The conversation in my head was the usual one, I went to Sarah Lawrence, I’m good at research. I’ll just do it myself. How hard could it be to find the history of a house? It’s a piece of land, so it will be neatly organized by block in a government folder somewhere. Probably in the building department downtown. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours. And the result was also the usual one, famous last words.

As it turns out, the records in our fair city are somewhat limited and you have to go to the Westchester Land Records Department to get a complete listing of all the housing transactions for historic homes. And you have to switch from looking for Rye City transactions to Rye Town transactions in the 1940s once the incorporation changed. And they aren’t actually organized by block after all, but instead alphabetically by last name of buyer to seller, and seller to buyer. And not completely alphabetically as we commonly know it, but by a system invented in the 1600s which is alphabetical by first consonant and first vowel, then chronologically within the year, backwards. And turn of the previous century handwriting, while elegant, isn’t always all that easy to decipher. I also found out that there are some very wonderful people who work at the Westchester Land Records Department who will take time out of their day and take pity upon newbie researchers to help them find the missing link, because they know to check if a page was alphabetized badly so the D E page somehow got stuck in the wrong place, before the D A page.  

If you want historic maps, to go along with the project, then you have to go to the Rye Historical Society, the Westchester Historical Society, the Town of Rye records room and back to the Rye Historical Society. My "shouldn’t take more than a few hours" project stretched to about six weeks. Then there was the subterfuge involved with typing and organizing the project in a small house with a husband who works at home and who will exhibit curiosity  “Hey, what are you working on?” at the worst possible times. But, once done, I got to present him with a folder of maps and information about our house, our neighborhood, and our City’s growth, as well as the aforementioned lovely plaque for our historic home. He loved it. And I loved doing the research. It was like being on a treasure hunt.

I found a great deal of information, but there are a few more mysteries yet to be solved, so if anyone knows how young New York City widow, Jennie Starke suddenly got involved in a beach real estate development deal with Urwin Magill of Yonkers, or why Magill acquired the land from the Halsteds’ company, then turned around and sold a half interest to Starke the same day, and how she ended up marrying the notary from that deal, please get in touch, I am dying to know! 

THE HISTORY OF A HOUSE

1907-2019

The Halsted family has had a long history in Rye, Ezekiel was the first one to move to Rye in 1746, from Huntington, LI, buying the Knapp Estate on the road to the beach. His family flourished in the area, with his two sons, Ezekiel and Philomen, producing many heirs, mostly named Ezekiel and Philomen, for a few generations, after which they switched to naming many of them Henry. (You can visit many of their graves in the historic Milton Cemetery on Milton Road.) By the beginning of the 19th century the Halsted family (sometimes styled Halstead) owned much of Milton Point, along with holdings all over Westchester. In the early 20th century, Ezekiel’s descendants were starting to develop large pieces of family lands, forming The Oakland Beach Realty Company in 1909.

Rye became a village in 1904, and people from New York City were eager to buy beach cottages in newly developed areas. The Oakland Beach Realty Company (President, Augustus Halsted (b. November 22,1836 d. September 14, 1912), steamship company owner, author, publisher, and farmer who invented the incubator and patented it in 1882 and Secretary, his son,J. Henry Halsted (b. October 7,1868 d.September 22,1950) operator of a ferry from Rye to Sea Cliff, owner of the Milton Boatyard and Rye Garage, Village Trustee and Rye School Board member) was formed to sell off tracts of Halstead lands to developers. Oakland Beach Park was the first large subdivision of Oakland Beach Realty, running from Forest Ave to Milton Road, and from Rye Beach Ave to Dearborn. J. Henry rented the land from Dearborn to the water from his father Augustus on March 29th 1907, for $1,200 per year, for a term of 5 years, perhaps to prepare it for sale, or perhaps to see the difference in revenue there was between sales and rental properties. The locals were eager to have proper houses near the beach, housing proper people, rather than visitors who were seen as quite a rowdy bunch. One of the provisions of the rental agreement was that the party of the second part (J. Henry) would not sell or permit the sale of intoxicating liquors on the premises. Another was that bathhouses were allowed to be built and removed yearly.

 Augustus 

The area that was to become Oakland Gardens was sold to Urwin J. Magill of Yonkers NY, in July of 1911 by The Oakland Beach Realty Company. Oakland Gardens covers Garden Drive, Orchard Drive, the adjacent east side of Milton Rd and the south side of Dearborn. The deed specifies that no building other than private residences are allowed, only one private garage or stable per resident, and that “no swine, or any vicious, dangerous, destructive, or offensive animals will be permitted to be kept,” and again, no selling intoxicating liquors. By August, Mr. Magill and his wife Mary had moved from Yonkers to Rye and entered into a partnership with Jennie L.J. Starke from New York City, allowing her to buy an undivided one half interest in the property. The agreement with the Westchester Lighting Company in October of 1911 allowed for telephone, lighting and gas lines to be brought in, even in areas not yet recognized as streets by the village of Rye. On October 9, 1911 the map (made by M. Lorini, C.E. certified September 22,1911) of Oakland Gardens, Oakland Beach, Rye was filed in the office of the Register of Westchester County as the property of Mrs. Mrs. Jennie L. J. Starke and Urwin J. Magill. Her name comes first on all the paperwork thence forward.

Our lots were sold to C. Herbert MacKay of Hamilton, Canada by Mrs. Starke (now living in Oscawana and Mrs. Starke-Belknap) and Mr. & Mrs. Magill of Rye in 1915. He was deeded the right to the land and to build one private house, with restrictions, that included no flat roof, no outside privies, no tents, and no house that cost less than $1,000 be allowed to sully the neighborhood. There was a $6 yearly fee for the Oakland Gardens Association which was supposed to maintain a park like condition of the areas gardens and trees.

Mr. MacKay back in Hamilton, Canada, along with his wife Irene, sold the property and house he'd built on it to Celia Hanson of the Bronx after having owned it for 6 years. The deed includes lots, parcels of land, buildings and improvements and “rights, title and interest in and to Garden Drive and Orchard Walk in front of and adjacent to said premises, to the centre lines thereof respectively.” One of the restrictions in their contract was that the buyer “shall quietly enjoy said premises.” No mention of any Oakland Gardens Association or fees by in this deed.

Celia Hanson then sold the property to George L. Marinor, Jr. who was living in Harrison (and thus was forced to root for the Huskies before moving to Rye, GO GARNETS!) in 1939 after just under 18 years of ownership.

George L. Marinor, sold the house to Charles and Mary Petti of Port Chester in 1942. He owned the property for a little under 3 years. It’s possible that it was a rental property during that time, as his address was listed as Harrison on all the paperwork.

The Pettis lived on Milton Road, Rye at the time they sold our property, listed for the first time with a street address of Oakland Gardens, to Thomas and Helen de Petra (who were probably renters of the property before, as it is listed as their address) in 1944. The Pettis ownership was just over 2 years, and it is a reasonable assumption that they bought it as a rental property since they lived around the corner.

The de Petras sold the property to Frank and Lucky DeBease of 18 Oakland Gardens (a smaller lot) in 1947, after having owned the house for just under 3 years.

The DeBeases (still with the property listed as having an Oakland Gardens address), sold to James N. Seaman, Jr. and his wife, Genevieve C. Seaman in 1957. The DeBeases have the first building card on file with the City of Rye (from the 1940s) and lived in the house for just under 10 years.

James N. Seaman, Jr. deeded over half the house to his second wife Jean C. Seaman after Genevieve passed away. The address for the first time listed as the current one, with all the language from previous deeds, and finally identified with the lot and block numbers on the assessment map in 1975.

The Seamans sold to William Garvey and his wife Tamara Eberlein, in 1985. The Seaman Family had the longest tenancy of the property to this date, having owned it for 28 years and 10 months.

In April 1994, we bought the home on the little footpath to the beach from the Garvey/Eberliens, and have lived there happily ever after since. We will be the longest owners of the house in February of 2023. We've raised two wonderful children here and several very good dogs. 

Fashion notes on a sporting event

Yesterday was the 151st running of the Belmont Stakes, we've gone for the last several years, and this was a particularly fun day (would have been a MORE fun day if I had just put down $2 on a long shot who's name I liked, because then I would have made several thousand dollars, but that's just horse racing). 

I am glad to report that over the last few years the post-frat crowd of NYC millennials has started treating it as more of an NYC late spring festival, and less of an ersatz Kentucky Derby event. The guys have moved to a proper preppy style, blue blazers and seersucker pants or chinos, and away from the "crazy" suits of years gone by including the proper implementation of white bucks. Fedoras and boaters are still en vogue as are the ubiquitous "this is my first cigar and I might barf" for both boys and girls.

Women's fashion is closer to festival style than Derby style (plenty of fascinators still, but they are on the wane) festival with a preppy NYC edge, more Lilly than Anthropology.  Best look is floppy sun hat, good shades, nice clutch, and cute sundress or romper and shoes you can (mostly) walk in, especially on grass. The midriff trend has moved to a thin line, just below where an Empire waist would hit. It looks great on nearly everyone.


My best advice would be to skip the long dresses and totally flat sandals, because some of the millennials new to Belmont  have not yet learned to pace themselves, and aren't well acquainted enough with the effects of day drinking bourbon. Have fun, don't bet what you can't afford to lose, and then you can consider all wagers as entertainment budget - cheaper than a day at Yankee Stadium and you don't have to watch baseball.