By Gregory Christiano (Age: 65)
Copyright 04-19-2003
For anyone who has lived in New York City, at one time or another, had to have traveled in the subways. This experience was enhanced when the train connected to a line running above the street, in the open air. These elevated lines that connected to the subways are part of the Dual Contract System initiated at the turn of the century. These were not “true” elevated lines. That distinction was reserved for the original elevateds…the Second, Third, Sixth and Ninth Avenue Elevated lines, all constructed in the latter part of the nineteenth century. The Third Avenue el extended to the Bronx where it joined with the White Plains Road Line at Gun Hill Road. This was the Grand Old Lady of the elevateds. Construction began in Manhattan openning on August 26, 1878 and lasted to May 12, 1955, when the section from Chatham Sq. to just below the 149th street station in the Bronx, was dismantled.
Having grown up in the Borough of the Bronx in the 1950’s, I had many experiences riding on the elevated lines before they were demolished. The spur to the Polo Grounds off Jerome Ave at 165th Street in the Bronx, ran to 155th Street in Manhattan right at the doorstep of the stadium. This was the remnant of the Ninth Avenue el. This two-car shuttle carried many a baseball fan to and from the Polo Grounds until it was torn down in 1958, one year after the beloved Giants bolted to the west coast along with the turn-coat Dodgers. The last line remaining in the Bronx happened to be the Third Avenue el extension from 149th street north to Gun Hill Road. This section of the Bronx elevated was constructed from 1886 (when the Bronx was know as “The Annexed District”),through the 1920’s.
The Third Avenue Line cut right through the center of the Bronx and became the backbone of transportation through those neighborhoods of Morrisania, Mott Haven , Tremont, Belmont, Fordham and Wakefield. My neighborhood was the Fordham/Tremont area. The el provided necessary and dependable transportation for all the residents.
As a kid I was always intrigued by the el, fascinated by its structure and design. It was an essential part of city life, making areas accessible and bringing development and business along the route. I often wondered how the trains could be supported by such an insubstantial-looking structure. It was a skeleton laid bare propped up on pale gray girders, certainly a deception, a trick of engineering know-how. As a boy, I took many trips on the El entering at the 183rd street station, just a short walk from my walk-up apartment building on 184th and Washington Avenue. I accompanied my parents on those occasions. One day I decided to try it on my own. It was 1956 and I was just 9 years old.
I had no particular destination, but paid my fare of 15 cents (tokens had just been introduced in 1953). I headed right to the front car and stood outside the motorman’s cabin, staring intently down the tracks through the front door window. I felt the freedom and excitement of zipping along over the streets. I was transfixed, taking in the sights of the stone and brick canyons along the way, the noise of the passing train reverberating off the buildings. I passed people’s parlors, living rooms and kitchens, exchanging glances and for a brief moment peering into their personal lives. Heading downtown I reached the last stop, 149th street, simply waited and took the same train back up the line and my adventure continued.
The stations at Tremont and Fordham Road were once express stops and they had double platforms. These platforms were exposed with no railings on either end. It seemed to me that any false step or a sudden gust of wind would sweep the people off and dash them onto the tracks and the deadly third rail. At 9 years old, my imaginary fears were real enough.
I traveled uptown past Fordham Road, where the line curved up Webster Avenue, passing such renowned landmarks as Fordham University, the Sears Roebuck Tower and the massive Roosevelt High School off in the distance. Upward we went past French Charlie’s Field at 204th street, finally turning at a sharp right angle east over the Bronx River Parkway, to the end of the line, making the connection to the White Plains Road line. The trip downtown resumed fairly soon, then back to 183rd street and home.
My parents had no idea of my whereabouts. My father was sound asleep since he worked the night shift at Bond Bread factory near Allerton Ave. My mother was just returning home from her job as a seamstress at the Joe Vin Blouse Company on 187th street in the Belmont section. When she came in the apartment at about 4 p.m. and didn’t find me home, she naturally woke up my father. he had no idea where I was either. Well, I timed it perfectly because it was just at this time I walked in and saved the local police precinct from a wild goose chase. I got more than just a bawling-out from my frantic parents, but it still didn’t deter me from riding my beloved train. I had many more future escapades, alone and with friends.
Why all the fuss over what some people considered a rickety, noisy, dirty eyesore? I never looked at it that way. To my mind it was a great way to travel, it was fun, and later I considered it a part of our heritage, of our history. The El was a national treasure, a magnificent feat of engineering and design. The El was a part of the neighborhood, like arteries, pumping the life blood of people constantly on the move, day and night. It came rumbling through the neighborhood. Even with its rattles and sceeches, it had special charm, from its gingerbread style stations, stain glass windows, hard wood floors and planelling, to its quaint cast-iron pot-belly stoves and large wooden turnstiles. Its skeletal structure cast a mysterious criss-cross pattern on the cobblestone streets below. Mysterious indeed, sometimes dark and menacing, like a giant spider-web. The sights along the route were of fire escapes, rooftops, water towers, signs of stores and of course the 20 foot tall bishop-crook lampposts. The atmosphere was complete, distinctive. It was the naked city.
Think of a detective yarn or a dark, brooding story for film noir and the stage is set. It is a street scene with character, with a personality all its own. A Bronx scene, lost from us through the cruel fates of time. But it is preserved in memory, film, photography, prints and drawings. The Elevated, at one time the symbol of progress, became a discarded dinosaur.
This line was eventually demolished. The last train departed on April 29, 1973 and the el was replaced with the Bx55x Bus. And so the era of the elevated in this part of the city came to an end, and one more vestige of Old New York disappeared. Another link to our past was forever destroyed.
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The Route of the Third Avenue El in the Bronx before abandonment in 1973.
– Gun Hill Road (White Plains Road) Lower Level transfer to & From #2 and #5 Upper level
– 210th Street (Webster Ave.)
– 204th Street (Webster Ave.)
– Bedford Park Blvd – 200th Street (Webster Ave.)
– Fordham Road (190th Street)
– 183rd Street (Third Ave.)
– 180th Street ”
– Tremont Avenue ”
– 174th Street ”
– Claremont Pkwy ”
– 169th Street ”
– 166th Street ”
– 161st Street ”
– 156th Street ”
– 149th Street ” (Transfer to & from #2 & #5)
Comments on this Article/Poem:
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| 09-16-2004 Paula Tsvayg
I like how when you read something interesting, like the world’s longest name or the history behind something, you share it with us. |
| 08-04-2003 Dawn Staple
When I first read this some time back I was new to the site, but it HIT ME and I immediately asked Gregory if I could use it in a monthly magazine I produce. I wanted it for the November issue which will be dealing with NOSTALGIA and RIDING THE HIGH TRACKS is just perfect! It also tells people in other parts of the world about places other than their own ~ EDUCATION!! Thanks Gregory! DAWN in UK |