The Eternal Light Flagstaff - Madison Square.

 

Nearly two years after the end of World War I, New York Legislative Documents noted, "No progress has been made during the past year toward a conclusion as to the form of New York City's great war memorial."  The two favored ideas being considered were a "Liberty Bridge" over the Hudson River, and the conversion of Madison Square Garden into Liberty Hall, proposed "to become the largest convention hall in the world, with a seating capacity of 20,000 people, containing a sacred Gothic Chapel and an organ that should be the greatest yet built."  The document added, "As a third alternative they recommended a Liberty Arch in the heart of the city."

As it turned out, none of those ideas would earn the approval of millionaire department store mogul Rodman Wanamaker, Chairman of the Mayor John Francis Hyland's Committee on Permanent Memorial.  (Wanamaker almost undoubtedly achieved the position through his former employee, Grover Whalen, who had been appointed Commissioner of Plants and Structures in 1918.)

Wanamaker felt strongly that the monument "should stand out by its simplicity"--the very antithesis of the three popular ideas.  It may have been that conflict that resulted in his personally footing the $25,000 bill for the project--more than $360,000 today.

Wanamaker's committee eventually approved the design submitted by Thomas Hastings, of the esteemed architectural firm Carrere and Hastings.  The Eternal Light Monument would take the form of a 125-foot tall wooden flagstaff formed from a century-old tree cut in "the virgin forests of Oregon and transported over the Rocky Mountains," according to The NYC Department of Parks.  Hastings designed a monumental pink granite pedestal that upheld the grand bronze pole base.  Paul Wayland Bartlett, who had studied under Auguste Rodin, executed the sculptural elements.

Atop the flagpole was a seven-pointed electrified star.  It was  first illuminated on Armistice Day, November 11, 1923, and the m0nument was formally dedicated on June 7, 1924.  The names of significant French battles were engraved on the east and west faces.  On the north was carved, "In memory of those who have made the supreme sacrifice for the triumph of the free peoples of the world," and on the south, in part, "Erected to commemorate the first homecoming of the victorious Army and Navy of these United States."

The Eternal Light Monument was the terminus of the annual Armistice Day parades, when tens of thousands of veterans marched from City Hall to Madison Square.  (Armistice Day marked the day and hour World War I ended--the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11 month in 1918.)

photo via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The monument was also used by the city to honor distinguished guests.   In June 1927 the Broadway motorcade of Charles Lindbergh stopped so the famous flier could lay a wreath at its base.   And a month later, on July 18, The Daily Worker reported, "Clarence Chamberlin, Richard E. Byrd and the three men who flew with Byrd to Paris came back to New York yesterday...The fliers were met at the City Hall by Mayor Walker and received the city's medals of valor.  At the eternal light in Madison Square, William H. Woodin welcomed them to the state in the absence of Governor Smith."

The Eternal Light Monument turned political around 1930, when socialists adopted it as their own symbol.  It may have started with the May Day observations in Union Square that year.  Army veterans planned a counter-protest.  The Socialist newspaper The Daily Worker wrote, "If the Veterans of Foreign Wars can scrape together enough sluggers, boss-bellycrawlers and thugs they will start their march from the Eternal Light in Madison Square."

Members of the Women's Overseas Service League pose before the monument around 1924.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

In 1932 veterans marched on Washington D.C. to demand government promised pension money.  Two of them, Eric Carlson and William Hushka were shot dead by D.C. police.  The deaths enraged Socialists, who organized "Huska-Carlson Day" the following year.  On July 27, 1933 protestors assembled at Rutgers Square.  The Daily Worker advised, "From there, a parade will leave for Madison Square (23rd St.) at the Eternal Light."

Every year the antithetical groups would use the monument for their widely disparate purposes.  The annual Armistice Day  parades and subsequent ceremonies went on in November, while the Socialists embraced the memorial in the spring months.  On March 6, 1934 The Daily Worker announced, "The youth section of the American League Against War and Fascism will hold an anti-war parade starting at the Eternal Light in Madison Square, where a wreath will be laid."  The banner on that wreath read, "We Will Not Support the Government In Any War It May Undertake."

Ernst Thaelmann, the leader of the Communist Party of Germany, was arrested by the German Government in 1933.  Reaction in the form of rallies and protests among the Socialist and Communist communities in America was swift.  On the night of June 13, 1934 Jack Corrigan shimmied to the top of the Eternal Light flagpole and hung a massive red banner demanding "FREE ERNST THAELMANN."  He and his comrades assured that it would remain there as long as possible by greasing the pole upon his descent and cutting the pole ropes.  On June 15 The Daily Worker reported, "While crowds gathered to watch the sight, police squads desperately tried to get up the pole, but it was greased too well for them."

In 1965 the participants in the annual ceremonies--originally composed of thousands--had greatly diminished.  photo via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

In 1954 Armistice Day was changed by Congress to Veterans Day, in order to honor the deceased veterans of all wars.  

In 1976 the wooden flagpole was replaced with a metal version.  By then the once massive Veterans Day ceremonies had greatly diminished.  On November 13, 1979 Judith Cummings, writing in The New York Times, said "Few New Yorkers marched in the annual Veterans Day parade yesterday on Fifth Avenue and almost as few bothered to watch it, deciding instead to take advantage of department store sales."  She went on, "Ceremonies at the parade's terminus at Madison Square Park drew several dozen onlookers, who stood quietly in chill wind to hear the speakers in front of the graffiti-scarred Eternal Light monument near 24th Street."

Part of the meager turnout was blamed on anti-Vietnam War sentiments.  But numbers grew in 1981 when national patriotism swelled with the return of American hostages from Iran.  Mayor Edward Koch announced, "Now we must not rest until they [the Vietnam MIA's] are likewise returned."

The Veterans Day ceremonies saw another increase of numbers in 1983.  Gannett Westchester Newspapers wrote on November 12, "About 2,000 present and former servicemen marched under cloudy skies in New York City's Veterans Day parade to pay tribute to America's fallen heroes, especially those killed recently in Lebanon and Grenada.  They stepped smartly down Fifth Avenue to the Eternal Light Monument in Madison Square where 32 wreaths were placed in memory of the fighting men and women of the United States."

But the numbers had waned again in 1986, when The New York Times reported "The sparse crowds at recent Veterans Day parades in Manhattan were generous compared with the smattering that turned out yesterday."  It was, nevertheless, a groundbreaking event.  The article noted, "for the first time, homosexual veterans joined the march under their own banner."  It was not entirely a welcomed change.  The article noted, "As the Gay Veterans entered the parade from 39th Street, a man slashed the banner with a knife and fled."

The luminaire, or lighted star, at the top of the flagstaff was refurbished in 2017.  Thomas Hastings's magnificent base, described in 1979 as "graffiti-scarred," has been restored.  And the Eternal Light monument continues to be the site of the annual Veterans Day ceremonies after nearly a century.

photographs by the author

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The Martyr's (or Soldiers') Monument - Trinity Churchyard

photo via waymarking.com

The first burial within the Trinity Churchyard on Broadway was in 1698.  By 1842 the grounds were filled and the sprawling Trinity Church Cemetery was established far uptown.  Nine years later the city proposed to extend Pine Street, which terminated at Broadway, to the Hudson River.  That would require taking a large slice from the northern hem of Trinity Churchyard.

It seems that the Trinity trustees turned to civic patriotism and sentiment to block what today would be called eminent domain.  On June 8, 1852 a meeting was held at City Hall to consider the erection of a monument to Revolutionary War prisoners of war in Trinity Churchyard, directly in the path of the proposed improvement project.  The church trustees noted, in part:

The remains of a large number of those heroic men who sacrificed their lives in achieving the independence of the United States, many of whom died while in captivity in the old Sugar House, are interred in Trinity churchyard in this city, and from the uniform attention and respect to the dead, which Trinity Church has observed, it is believed on suggestion it will cheerfully erect a suitable monument to their memory.

The "Sugar House" had been a large building owned by the Livingston family, appropriated by the British as a prison.  More than half a century after the war, New Yorkers still remembered the horrors inflicted on the prisoners.  One aged survivor, Jonathan Gillett, gave his account to the New York Herald.  The newspaper recounted:

He spoke of many dying of starvation and disease during his imprisonment.  Almost every day one, and sometimes five or six, were carried out for burial.  The bodies were placed upon the ground, and sometimes frozen there before removed.  These detachments of their living comrades were employed in carrying them to the Bowery, near the freshwater pump, for interment.

The mayor found the church's sudden interest in memorializing the soldiers more than suspicious.  He appealed to Albany, saying, according to The Evening Post, that the erection of the monument "was undertaken for the avowed object of preventing Pine street from being carried through."  The city was unsuccessful and the plans for the monument forged ahead.  

Whether the soldiers were actually buried directly in the path of the proposed Pine Street project is uncertain, since their graves were not marked.  Nevertheless, the site chosen for the monument could not have been more emblematic.  The completed structure would stand like a sentinel behind the churchyard fence, directly across from Pine Street.

Trinity Church insisted that the location sat over the graves.  The Evening Post reported on January 5, 1854, "It is said that a portion of the yard, where the most of those brave men lie, was below the present surface, some sixteen feet about, at, or on a line with, or opposite, Pine street."   The article claimed that soldiers were buried upon soldiers.  "In fact, in that part of the yard, for more than sixteen feet, the ground is composed of human remains, quite decomposed, and nearly all ground to dust."

Trinity Church paid for the monument in full.  On August 5, 1853 the Semi-Weekly Tribune reported, "The Corporation of Trinity Church have appropriated $7,000 for the construction of the work, but this sum will not more than half complete it."  Assuming that the journalist was correct, the total cost would be equivalent to $478,000 today.

The trustees commissioned English-born architect Frank Wills to design the memorial.  He had immigrated to New York City in 1847 and soon became the official architect for the New York Ecclesiology Society.  Wills was especially known for his Gothic Revival designs and had trained under architect John Hayward, a master in the style.  Willis's imposing monument would blend perfectly with Richard Upjohn's  Gothic Revival style Trinity Church.

On August 5, 1853, a few months after construction had begun, the Semi-Weekly Tribune reported, "It will be of brown stone, and its height will be 73 feet.  The pedestal will be 16 feet square, and placed at the top of a series of steps 24 feet square at the bottom."  The article said that--at least originally--Wills intended that statues of military figures would adorn the buttresses.

That detail was not the only scaled-back aspect of the monument.  In 1872 John Francis Richmond described the Martyrs' Monument in his New York and Its Institutions, giving the final dimensions.  "It is a chaste Gothic structure of brown stone, standing on a granite foundation, about forty-five feet high, appropriately inscribed, and crowned with the American eagle."

from King's Handbook of New York City, 1893 (copyright expired)

Variously called the Martyrs' Monument and the Soldiers' Monument, for years the memorial was decorated on patriotic and military holidays.  On May 6, 1861, for instance, The Evening Post reported on Decoration Day observances.  (Later named Memorial Day, the holiday would not become official until after the Civil War.)  The article said, "The revolutionary monument in Trinity churchyard has been appropriately draped with white, red and blue, and four or five flags are to be raised."

photo by Edmund Vincent Gillon from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Half a century after the monument was completed, historian A. J. Bloor weighed in on the argument as to its exact purpose.  Writing in the New-York Tribune, he told readers of a proposal to extend Pine Street through Trinity Churchyard "shortly before the outbreak of the Civil War."  He said "Frank Wills, an excellent architect of the so-called Gothic school, was commissioned to design a 'monument to the prison ship martyrs' with which to block the way.'"  Bloor gave Willis a notable compliment, saying that the monument was "one of the not too many architectural gems of this city."

photo by Wally Gobetz

Nearly 170 years after its construction, the Martyrs' Monument no longer receives attention on Memorial Day or Veterans' Day, and few New Yorkers or tourists are aware of its role in the church-vs.-City Hall battle.  

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The Churchyard Cross (Astor Cross) -- Trinity Churchyard

On September 23 1853 William Backhouse Astor, Jr. married the socially-ambitious Caroline Webster Schermerhorn (known by her closest friends as Lina) in Trinity Church.  The couple would have five children—the youngest, John Jacob “Jack” Astor IV being born in 1864.

Although Caroline spent the first years of her married life focused on her children; she gradually became increasingly involved in society.  Eventually she reigned as the undisputed empress of New York society.  Uncowed by his wife’s imperious personality (she was embarrassed by his middle name Backhouse, for instance, and insisted he use only the initial); William eventually avoided confrontation.  Initially he would while hours away at his social clubs during Caroline’s entertainments; but eventually spent most of the summer season, when the Astors were in their Newport cottage Beechwood, on his yacht the Ambassadress and the winter season in Jacksonville, Florida.

Caroline Astor dressed for a fancy ball in 1875.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

In stark contrast to her public reputation; Caroline Astor was a doting mother and grandmother.   Two years after William Astor died in 1892, she and her son, John Jacob Astor, began construction on a massive double mansion on Fifth Avenue at 65^th Street.   

As the new century dawned, the aging Caroline Astor’s health began failing, then worsened.   The Evening World mentioned in October 1908, “For more than a year she has received nobody but her physician and her daughter, Mrs. Wilson.  The only sign of life about her house since April last came from the windows of her room.”

“Mrs. Wilson” was Caroline Schermerhorn Astor, the Astors’ fourth daughter, named, obviously, after her mother.   Known as Carrie, she had married the wealthy Marshall Orme Wilson in 1884.  Following her mother’s move to Fifth Avenue and 65^th Street, the Wilsons erected a lavish limestone mansion a block away at on 64^th Street in 1903.  When word arrived on October 30, 1908 that Caroline Astor was failing, Carrie rushed from her home to her mother’s bedside.  At 7:30 that night the larger-than-life socialite died at the age of 78.  Carrie was the only member of the Astor family at her side.

Caroline Webster Schermerhorn Astor was buried in Trinity's Cemetery in upper Manhattan.  Like other Astors, she had been a communicant of the church despite the uptown migration of society.   Within four years her devoted daughter embarked on plans to further memorialize her.

In 1911 Trinity Church had commissioned architect Thomas Nash to design an addition to the church--the All Saints’ Chapel.  It was no sooner completed in 1913 than Nash was working on another Trinity project—a “churchyard cross” commissioned by Carrie Astor Wilson as a monument to her mother.

Thomas Nash's model was exhibited in April 1913.  American Stone Trade, August 5, 1913 (copyright expired)

On August 5, 1913 American Stone Trade reported “Trinity Churchyard, lower Broadway, New York City, will shortly have a unique example of modern sculpture in the form of a churchyard cross to be erected by Mrs. M. Orme Wilson in memory of her mother, Mrs. William Astor.”  The trade journal described the 36-foot tall memorial saying “The design in its general lines follows the idea of the many crosses to be found in England and on the Continent and the great shaft with its superb carving crowned by the figure of Our Lord reigning from His Cross will be most impressive as seen across the churchyard among the trees.”

When Trinity’s rector, the Rev. Dr. William T. Manning saw the completed model in April that year, he advised reporters “It is said that the cross…compares favorably with the finest works of similar art in the older land.  The design embodies the idea of the genealogy of our Lord as given by St. Luke.  In the twelve niches in the shaft are the figures of our Lord’s human ancestors.”

In fact, Nash’s design, with the exception of the crowning crucifix, somewhat surprisingly nearly ignored the New Testament.  Beginning with Adam and Eve, the figures included Seth, Enoch, Noah, Shem, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Judah, Ruth, Jess, and David.  Only the Virgin Mary represented the Bible from Christ’s time.

Figures like Adam and Eve (top) and Noah depict Old Testament stories.

While the idea of sculpting the memorial in white marble was considered; the decision was to use Indiana limestone.  The choice of the more durable stone was fortunate, resulting in the carvings remaining crisp decades later.   Thomas Nash was an architect, not a sculptor, and his model was sent to James Gillies & Sons in Long Island City for execution.  Here a team of artists worked on the monolith for about a year.

The monument dominates the 18th century tombstones around it.

The memorial cross was dedicated just before noon on May 30, 1914 with what The Sun called “impressive services.”   Rev. Manning made note of the Old Testament motif in his remarks.  “This beautiful structure as a whole will speak of the close relation between the Jewish and Christian religions.  It will remind us that we all worship the God of Abraham,” he said.

The Cross at the time of its dedication -- Stone magazine, June 1914 (copyright expired)

Manning said that the erection of the medieval-type cross in Lower Manhattan was significant.  “It is most appropriate that this striking symbol of the Christian religions should be lifted up…in the midst of the eager crowds and the great business interests in the lower part of the city.  It will give its message every hour in the day to the hundreds of people who enter the churchyard and to the throngs who pass by on the street.”

Stone magazine commented “This cross serves to emphasize the fact that this country is sadly lacking in beautiful and artistic memorials of the kind…Memorials like the Astor cross, scattered through the various churchyards of the land, would do much for the cultivation of public taste…Trinity Church is pointing the way.”

Within the year the Churchyard Cross, which was already assuming the popular name the Astor Cross, became one of the first monuments in Manhattan to be lit at night.  Popular Mechanics pointed out years later in April 1929 that “four floodlights focus their beams on the cross.”

A 1915 postcard depicted the lit memorial at night.

As Dr. Manning predicted, the Astor Cross drew downtown workers.  On November 15, 1943 Life magazine published a photograph of suit-wearing Wall Street types sitting on the base of the Cross during lunchtime.

But the memorial was not merely a convenient place to take lunch.  When the Rev. Dr. John Heuss was formally installed as the 13^th rector of Trinity on June 3, 1952, two processions converged at the Churchyard Cross before entering the church.  And when Rev. Heuss celebrated Rogation Sunday on May 6, 1956, he led a procession out of the church to the Churchyard Cross where he recited prayers and the choir sang.

The Astor Cross remains the focal point of the northern churchyard.  Thousands of tourists photograph it every year and Wall Street brokers still sit on its base at noon.  Few, however, realize its purpose—a monument to a queen of Manhattan society and an adoring mother.

photographs by the author

The Soldiers' & Sailors' Monument -- Riverside Drive and 89th Street

In 1869, five years after the end of the Civil War and acting on requests of the Central Park Commissioners, the New York State Legislature approved the erection of a Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument.  A decade later, on May 22, 1879 nothing had been accomplished.  Five prominent New Yorkers wrote an open letter, published a week later in The New York Times, hoping to kick start the project.

The group, composed of General H. W. Slocum, Levi P. Morton, John R. Brady, Lloyd Aspinwall, James McQuade, John T. Hoffman and E. D. Morgan, proposed the formation of a “Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument Association.”  Its purpose would be to “undertake to erect a suitable monument in this City to commemorate the services of the Union soldiers and sailors of the late war of the rebellion.”

It was a commendable move.  But the gentlemen would have a long wait.

Four years later still little had been done and, as a matter of fact, the committee lost two of its most prestigious members—Judge John T. Hoffman and General H. W. Slocum had resigned.  General Slocum stepped down “based on the ground that as the citizens of Brooklyn were endeavoring to erect a soldiers and sailors’ monument, he thought his services properly belonged there,” reported The New York Times on March 29, 1883. 

By 1894 Civil War memorials had been erected throughout the country.  Even small towns had prominent monuments to its servicemen.  Brooklyn’s magnificent Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Arch had been dedicated in 1892.  But the Manhattan memorial was still mired in squabbles over its design and location.  When the Albany Legislature appropriated money for the project, it called it “the Memorial Arch.”  And the Legislature neglected to earmark funds for the “preliminary expenses,” like notices to sculptors and architects and the conducting of a competition.

“That omission caused the project to fall into oblivion, until it as recently recalled by a gentleman interested in the adornment of the city who has no axe to grind, but happens to be a member of the Sculpture Society,” reported The Times on January 7, 1894.

The Sculpture Society, the Architectural League and the municipal Art Society joined forces to get the monument back on track.  And the first thing they dealt with was the “Memorial Arch” designation.  The Commissioners of Parks announced that there was no place in Central Park for an arch.   Various locations for a triumphal arch were suggested.  The two favorites were the intersection of Broadway and Fifth Avenue at 23^rd Street; and the sea wall of the Battery near the New York Aquarium.  A newspaper noted “With a flight of steps leading to it from the water, it would furnish a splendid point of departure for processions in which naval brigades figure or companies of soldiers arriving in the city by water.”

Almost two years later there had been no decisions and no progress.  Many New Yorkers pushed for a monumental arch at the entrance of Central Park, on the Fifth Avenue plaza.  But the Fine Arts Federation fought back, saying it “is a very bad site for a monument, especially for a lofty monument such as the committee has decided to erect.”  The Federation firmly felt that the monument should be “placed at some point of the water front, where it will be visible from water as well as from the land.”

A new location had recently been proposed—Riverside Drive.  The Times noted on December 15, 1895, “At one end of the drive Grant’s tomb is already rising.  If the other end were bounded by a military and naval monument visible from afar and easily accessible from close at hand…the border of the drive between these two terminal monuments would become the fitting repository of the monuments of individual military and naval heroes.”

The committee was back to square one in June 1896.  Following a meeting with the Mayor on June 10, Madison Square was again the front-runner.  The “small triangular block bounded by Broadway, Fifth Avenue, and Twenty-second Street” (the future site of the Flatiron Building) was deemed “advantageous.”   Newspaper readers were told that the 59^th Street plaza at Central Park was now ruled out; and Riverside Drive had been deemed “out of the way.”

To the surprise of most New Yorkers and despite the vehement opposition of military and arts groups, on July 17, 1897 the Mayor and the Parks Commissioners announced their choice of locations—the Central Park plaza at Fifth Avenue and 59^th Street.   The New York Times was clear in its opinion.  “The thing is absurd and monstrous, and it is greatly to be hoped that the commission may yet show itself disposed to listen to reason.”

The public was quick to respond and on July 18 a Civil War veteran William Henry Shelton, added his opinion to the letters arriving on the desk of the editor of The New York Times.  After pointing out that the old servicemen were getting on in years, he presented an eloquent case for Riverside Drive.  His letter said in park “The winding course of the stately avenue, with its many hills and knolls and great, sloping lawns, will lend itself to monumental treatment on a great scale.”

Later that year, at last, on October 16, 1897, the six architectural submissions for the monument were displayed in the Central Park Arsenal.  Surprisingly, only one was an arch.  The others were soaring columns adorned with sculpture—highly similar to the Columbus monument erected at the Columbus Circle entrance to Central Park five years earlier.   On November 12 the winning design was announced—the 125-foot column on a terraced pedestal by brothers Arthur A. and Charles W. Stoughton.   The sculptures would be executed by Frederick Macmonnies and it would be placed at the 59^th Street entrance to Central Park; a near-matching bookend to the Columbus shaft.

Stoughton & Stoughton's winning design -- The New York Times November 24, 1897 (copyright expired)

Almost immediately, however, John Quincy Adams Ward, President of the National Sculpture Society, blocked the project.  By law no monument could be erected on land belonging to the City of New York without the sanction of the National Sculpture Society president.  And Ward refused to approve the plaza location.  “It is, therefore, evident that the proposed monument cannot be put on the Plaza while Mr. Ward lives,” reported The New York Times on November 24.

And so everyone went back to the drawing board.

Ward, the Civil War veterans, and the artistic societies got their way when a month later the Riverside Drive site was approved.  But now another problem arose—the shaft design of the monument.

The heroic column was not appropriate for the new location.  Civil War General Rush C. Hawkins made his opinion known in a letter on April 13, 1898.  He said in part that the committee that selected the design “proves that its members were quite incapable of discriminating between the truly artistic and the commonplace of the period meretricious…The design is so inharmonious and trifling in its relation to suggestion of heroic deeds, and generally so much like a piece of ornate window confectionery in its sculptural details, as to render it entirely unfit for the expression of the object intended.  In short, it is quite devoid of nobility of form and expression, and has none of that solemn grandeur of outline which the events it ought to commemorate and express demand.”

The General called the $250,000 set aside for the monument a “vicious waste of good money” and hoped “some authority” would “prevent the erection of this monument in a city already too much afflicted with bad statues and hideous monuments.”

William Rudolf O’Donovan added his opinion on New Year’s Day, 1900.  He said after a serious of misfortunes that had changed the location six times, “the condition seems worse now than ever before.”  While the Riverside Drive site was considered “a good one” by landscape experts; it was not right “for the approved design which was made for another place.”  O’Donovan felt that erecting the Stoughtons’ shaft would end in “perpetual evidence of the neglectfulness or incompetency of the Municipal Art Commission.”

Rather surprisingly, the commission paid attention.  Arthur and Charles Stoughton were sent back to the drawing board.  With French architect Paul Emile Marle Duboy, they came up with a vastly different monument: a white marble structure based on the ancient Choragic Monument of Lysicrates near the Acropolis in Athens.  The classic building would stand on a circular plaza girded by marble walls and balustrades.  The interior was lit by an oculus within a mosaic-decorated rotunda.

On December 15, 1900—more than three decades after the project began—the cornerstone of the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument was laid by then-Governor Theodore Roosevelt.  More than 1,000 Civil War veterans were there.  General Albert D. Shaw said in part “The monuments we raise to our Union heroes are not memorials of conquest.”  The soldiers, he said, “faced death for a cause they held dear, and died like brave men in the defense of what they believed to be their precious rights.”

The monument was dedicated on Memorial Day 1902.  A procession of veterans, 2,000 school children and other dignitaries marched from Fifth Avenue and 47^th Street to the site.  Old soldiers carried the flag that waved over the cutter McClelland in New Orleans on January 29, 1861 which prompted Major General John A. Dix to order “If any one attempts to haul down the American flag, shoot him on the spot.”

The Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument was the focal point of Memorial Day observations for decades to come.  But civic monuments and statues were plagued by neglect and a lack of funds to maintain them.  Only five years after the monument was dedicated, it was in horrific condition.

On March 26, 1907 Mayor George McClellan held a hearing on a bill introduced by Senator Saxe at Albany to appropriate $20,000 for repairing the monument.  A committee of veterans urged him to sign the bill.   The New York Times reported that the structure “is in such bad repair that there is danger of some of the marble slabs falling from their places and being broken on the floor below.  Three slabs have already been broken.”

 

One veteran, Dennis Farrell, reported that “The interior of the monument had sweated, causing a disintegration of the cement between the marble slabs.”  He told the Mayor that pieces of masonry were “continually falling from the walls and ceiling.”  On the floor inside the monument, were pools of water that dripped from the dome.

Like the front, the rear, or northern elevation, is approached by a dramatic terrace and stairs.

Following World War I sculptor Salvatore E. Florio was commissioned to add a bronze panel to the door of the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument.  The base relief work, about two by three feet, was a tribute “to the men who died overseas” and included the inscription “A Donation to My Comrades—To those who live beyond, our hearts offer tribune, as our memory of their sacrifice grows ever vivid in esteem and love.  Humanity will remember the heroes who fought for Democracy and Justice.”

Not everyone felt so patriotic, however.  On June 24, 1922 someone noticed that the bronze plaque had been stolen—no doubt for its scrap value.  Officials said “When it was stolen is not known.”

More than 80 years later a blank scar marks the place of the stolen bronze plaque.  Note the gray paint on the marble flanking the doorway.

And by 1939 the Stoughtons’ classic monument had fallen from critical favor.  The Works Progress Administration’s New York City Guide described it saying “The monument, more sculpture than architecture to many, lacks the clarity of form and simplicity of some of the better American memorials.”

Riverside Drive and the Soldiers' and Sailors Monument on a 1950 postcard.

The once-glorious white marble monument did not fare any better during the next seven decades.  By 2015 the interior space had been locked for years for safety reasons.  The few city officials who entered were required to wear hard hats to protect themselves from falling masonry.   The Riverside Park Conservancy hoped to raise $50,000 that year to study the deterioration and necessary repairs.  As had been the case in 1907, pools of water stood on the floor inside and the walls were water stained and crumbling.

Graffiti has stained the white marble, while a close look at the cornice shows deteriorating masonry.

Civic memory, it has been said, is short.  The marble monument to Civil War veterans which took so many decades to complete sits humiliated and decaying on Riverside Drive.  While preservationists scramble to discover the extent of the damage and plot a restoration; the memorial remains a shameful testament to civic indifference.

 photographs by the author