World's Fare II

One of my favorite buildings at the Fair was the Schaefer Center, because, well, just look at it.

Besides its enormous circular bar, The Schaefer Center featured a restaurant that served rather run-of-the-mill cuisine (it's quite surprising how mundane the tastes of Fair goers seem today).

But to celebrate the opening of the Center, her employees were treated to a thank you dinner on May 16, 1939.  The menu from that occasion is preserved in the New York Public Library's collection.

All of the courses served were made, according to the menu, with Schaefer Beer as an ingredient.  Including the dessert, frozen beer pie.

Well, guess what?  The recipe for the pie is given in Crosby Gaige's Food at the Fair.  It was, according to Gaige, a contest-winning recipe submitted by an employee.  It is doubtful that it ever actually found its way onto the regular menu, though.  So of course I had to try it.  As part of a Fair-themed dinner party which I threw for myself for my birthday in February.

It wasn't bad.  It wasn't good, mind you, but it wasn't bad.  It tasted like a custard pie made out of, well, beer.  The recipe is below, should you care to give it a shot.  (Tomorrow we're making Canadian Cheese Soup with Schaefer Beer.)

Beer Frozen Chiffon Pie (Schaefer Center)

3 egg yolks                                       1 tablespoon gelatine
6 tablespoons sugar                           1/4 cup cold water
1 cup Schaefer Beer                          1 cup cream, whipped

Beat egg yolks, combine with sugar and beer; cook over hot water until thickened.

Soften gelatine in cold water; add to hot beer custard and stir until dissolved. Remove from heat; cool.

When beginning to thicken, beat until light; fold in whipped cream.

Pour into baked pie shell and chill until firm.

Cover top with additional whipped cream and sprinkle with crushed grape nuts.

Makes one 8-inch pie.

Philip Johnson's New York State Pavilion Open One Day Only

Okay, I know this isn't 1939, but I had to share it.

Last Tuesday, April 22 was the 50th Anniversary of the opening of the 1964 Fair. To mark the occasion, the New York State Pavilion was opened to the public for one day only, and only for a few hours.

So I played hooky from work, and we went and stood in line for hours just to be able to go inside for 15 minutes (turns out 15 minutes was more than enough time!) We got there at about 9:15 (for an 11 am opening), pleasantly surprised that there were fewer than 100 people ahead of us.

BUT...by the time we actually got to go inside (after enduring a really unconscionable delay of 45 minutes or so), there were "literally" thousands of people in line!

Though not too terribly high on the "WOW" factor, the view from inside is pretty cool; it's an angle you don't get to see everyday, obviously.

And I know the volunteers mean well, but, to be honest, I don't think the re-painting helps a whole lot. It certainly doesn't add anything; the somewhat garish new coats of paint are a jarring contrast to the rest of the dilapidated structure. The effect feels rather like someone's trying to disguise the fact that the whole thing is just one giant ruin.

Another nice surprise was that they had two fragments (and I do mean fragments) from the pavilion's mosaic floor, which depicted a giant map of New York. I think I read somewhere that what remains of the mosaic (or maybe it's terrazzo?) was removed (or covered over?) in order to preserve it so that it can be restored one day.

Long Island; Route 27 Leading into Montauk

By the way, yours truly was born two months and a day before the fair opened. But I didn't go to the fair; they left me home!

The Watershed's Moment

While in a few previous posts I have debunked myths surrounding things that allegedly appeared at The Fair but didn't (White Mana Diner and Pegasus), here's a bit of an oddity: something that was supposed to be at The Fair, but wasn't.

It's really REALLY low on the "WOW" factor scale, but the topographical model of New York City's watershed was created for display in the New York City Building; its 540 square feet, however, were too large for its allotted space, and the model wasn't seen by the public until a decade later. And then only once, at the City's Golden Anniversary Exposition at Manhattan's Grand Central Palace. (Interesting New York Times piece about the Grand Central Palace by David Dunlap here.)

After years of neglect, the map was restored, and is now on long-term loan to the Queens Museum. Since it was never seen at The Fair, it cannot rightly be called a Fair relic. But it is a genuine piece of Fair history, and it's fun to be able to see it in its intended location. And in its own way, it's an interesting precursor to the Museum's other "topographical" model--the New York City Panorama, created for the 1964-65 Fair (and much MUCH higher on the "WOW" factor scale).

Staten Island can be seen in the foreground left; Manhattan foreground center; 

and Brooklyn/Queens foreground right.

The New Queens Museum

Here's a general view of the interior of the newly renovated Queens Museum. Notice the "of Art" has been dropped from its name; this is due in large part to the recognition that the museum building and its collections have an historical relevance as well as an artistic one.

The City of New York IV: I Have Seen the Future

It was with a fair amount of trepidation that I walked from the Shea Stadium (as I will forever refer to it) subway stop on the 7 train through Flushing Meadows-Corona Park to see the recently renovated and re-opened Queens Museum, aka The New York City Building.

I needn’t have feared! As far as this Fair enthusiast is concerned, the New York City Building is better than ever!

Gone from the east façade (the “Fair” side of the building) is that hideous silver drum, that darkroom-type revolving door that hadn’t been used as an entrance for years, anyway. (Photo Here) The original open-air colonnade remains mostly enclosed, but the new unobtrusive and unobstructed wall of glass gives visitors and Fair buffs a much better idea of the structure’s original appearance. So much so that I don’t even mind the panels that have transformed the west façade into a fiber optic light show. The west façade, facing as it does Grand Central Parkway, was never really intended to be the main prospect, anyway; it’s a view many museum visitors still will not notice, unless they arrive by car. 

And what’s really kind of amazing is that while the interior has been expanded with what looks like an enormous barrel-vaulted ceiling, you get no hint of this standing on the ground outside; the roofline remains visibly unaltered, further preserving the original 1939 façade as much as possible. 

Kudos must go to Grimshaw (the architectural firm responsible for the renovation and re-design) partner-in-charge Mark Husser, who said recently in an interview with Architectural Record:

“Our goal for the design was to reinforce the mission of the museum within a historic building that has an architectural quality of its own.”

NY Public Library

Then there’s the uncovering of an original building feature, one that I found terribly TERRIBLY exciting (seriously—my heart skipped a beat!). Stopping briefly in the men’s room, I was immediately struck by what I was certain was an original design element: two sections of blue and orange wall tile. I could, of course, be mistaken, but it LOOKED old, and, as it was not carried throughout the entire room, gave the fragmentary impression of a remnant, rather than a new, conscious design decision. A quick stop at the NYPL’s Web site confirmed my hunch: the photographic evidence speaks for itself, I think. Of course, I shall have to confirm this in the interests of accuracy--Grimshaw Architects did not immediately return my phone call--but I feel fairly confident that my hunch is correct.

Next time we’ll take a look inside the museum…

More Fair Myths: Pegasus, the Flying Horse

At the Old Red Museum in Dallas there's a red neon "sign" that depicts Pegasus, the winged horse of Greek Mythology, and the mascot of Standard Oil Company. The neon Pegasus is believed by many to have been created for The Fair and displayed as part of the Petroleum Industries exhibit. Indeed, the museum itself claims the connection, based upon the recollection of a single individual. This fact was related to me by Kerry Adams, Curator and Exhibits Director at Old Red.

TripAdvisor

There's just one little problem: the Dallas Pegasus (or any other Pegasus for that matter) was never seen at The Fair. As with the White Mana diner in Jersey City, I really wanted to confirm the truth of the story. So back to the New York Public Library I went, this time to examine the Library's Fair files pertaining to the Petroleum Industries exhibit.

While I found no plans or photos of the interior of the Petroleum building, I did find the Petroleum Industries Exhibit Corporation contract. Language contained in that document offers rather conclusive proof that Pegasus never made it to The Fair:

The Exhibitor will advertise the businesses carried on by the Advertisers by conducting at the New York World's Fair, during the duration thereof, an exhibition of matters and things relating generally to the Petroleum Industry and its various phases and branches; for the purposes of such exhibition, the Exhibitor will erect a building on realty leased or to be leased by the Exhibitor within the area where the New York World's Fair is to be held.

The sole advertisement of the individual businesses of the Advertisers to be made at said exhibition shall be a list of the names of the advertisers displayed upon a plaque or plaques within or without said building, coupled with the statement that said exhibition has been made possible through their cooperation.

(Petroleum Industries Exhibit/New York World's Fair Exhibit Agreement, Exhibit "D"
Dated August 13, 1937)

In addition, the files contain this memo:

August 17, 1939
The Petroleum Industry in connection with their exhibit building at the Fair has a clause in their contract with the Fair that no advertisement or display of a petroleum company can be shown on Fair grounds.

Today the Petroleum Industry Exhibit Corporation has called to our attention that the Paragon Oil Company has a globe bearing their trade name on display in the Amusement Area in connection with the concession operating small gas-driven automobiles. I presume that this is in the "Drive-a-Drome".

In view of our contract, it will be necessary to have this identification sign eliminated. Will you kindly take care of this matter and advise me of your action so that I can in turn notify the Petroleum Industry Corporation.

Walter M. Langsdorf
Director, Department of Exhibits and Concessions
to Chairman, Amusement Control Committee

(H.M. Lammers responded on August 24, 1939 that the sign was removed.)

I contacted the museum for comment, but they did not answer my email.

World's Fare

Finally, here’s a piece from my own collection, a “souvenir” that isn’t really a souvenir at all, but a genuine Fair relic.

Chicago restaurateur Dario Toffenetti opened his first permanent New York establishment in the summer of 1940, after his Fair concession proved a big hit with the public.

By all accounts, Toffenetti was something of a showman, known for the lofty, florid language with which he described his food. Here he is on the lowly spud:

Toffenetti’s was “famous for ham and sweets.” I must confess it took me some time to realize “sweets” meant sweet potatoes. “Spaghetti a la Toffenetti” was also a popular dish, and in typical Toffenetti fashion, was touted as “an old historical recipe of Mrs. Toffenetti, procured from the Castle of Count Belvidere.” By 1948 the story had become a touch more elaborate: “The sauce is made from a treasured recipe of old, discovered by Mrs. Toffenetti among the ruins of the ancient castle of the Count of Bonpensier in Bologna.” Ahem.

Whatever its origins, Mrs. Toffenetti’s meat sauce recipe has survived. Here it is, verbatim, as given in Crosby Gaige’s Food at The Fair:

This recipe is for six people. Two packages of spaghetti, seven ounces each, are used.

First prepare the sauce. Take three ounces [6 tablespoons] of butter and melt in a saucepan over the fire. Chop one ounce of onion very fine, place in butter and fry until brown. Grind one pound of lean round steak and place in pan with butter and onion. Then add a whole can of (six ounces) Paoli Tomato Paste, twelve ounces of water, one level teaspoon of salt, and one pinch of pepper.

Stir the whole mixture and bring to the boiling point, then let it boil for exactly 25 minutes, stirring it from time to time. Then skim surplus fat and your sauce will be ready.

Take a pot with one and a half gallons of water, bring it to the boiling point, add one teaspoon salt, two boxes (seven ounces) unbroken spaghetti, and boil for 25 minutes.

Drain water from spaghetti and place spaghetti in large mixing bowl. Grate two ounces of genuine Parmesan cheese, and sprinkle over the spaghetti in layers. Take your sauce, pour spaghetti [sic], mix thoroughly and place on a large platter, sprinkling over a little more cheese and you are ready to serve.

So guess what I had for dinner last night? With one very minor exception, I followed the recipe for the sauce exactly, right down to the “boiling” time. The only thing I did not do “a la Toffenetti” was measure out one ounce of onion; because A, I didn’t feel like getting out my kitchen scale for such a small amount, and B, because I love onions and one OUNCE of onion isn’t nearly enough. So I just chopped up about a third of a large yellow onion. (Oh. And I also didn't use Paoli tomato paste, whatever that is; I used Trader Joe's organic. Oh. And I also didn't grind my own beef. Trader Joe's again.) I ignored the directions regarding the spaghetti itself (boil for 25 minutes?!), but did follow the bit about tossing it with some Parmesan before saucing it.

The result? Pretty darn tasty, I must say. I really expected that it would be bland, but was quite pleasantly surprised. It was meaty and rich and not overly tomato-y. I’ll definitely be making it again.

By the way, the menu pages above are from the awesome collection of the New York Public Library. They have quite a few from Fair eateries, and you can browse the collection online here.  Bon Appétit!

Abe Goes To The Fair II: Insult and Injury

Louis Slobodkin's statue of the young Lincoln, known variously as The Rail Joiner and Unity, was the runner-up in a government sponsored competition for a sculpture to grace the grounds of the Federal Building at The Fair. By his own account, Slobodkin spent a year creating the 15-foot-high steel-and-plaster statue, which cost the federal government somewhere in the neighborhood of $4000.

Slobodkin at work on The Fair statue

On or shortly before opening day of The Fair, however, understandably proud of and eager to show his wife his accomplishment, Slobodkin searched the grounds in vain: much to his chagrin and displeasure, his Lincoln was nowhere to be found.

Subsequent inquiry revealed that the statue had been not only removed from its location, but smashed! Smashed by order of Theodore T. Hayes, executive assistant to the United States Commissioner for The Fair, apparently acting on the suggestion of a female luncheon companion (left nameless, but pointedly identified as a blonde by several contemporary news sources) who thought the statue in poor taste. Oddly enough, Hayes's boss, Edward J. Flynn, had reportedly sat on the jury that had selected the winning submissions in the first place! (Conflicting reports place the blame for the statue's fate directly with Flynn himself.)

Though The New York Times reported that Fair officials were under no obligation to exhibit works of art for which they had paid (and which they therefore owned), the government, after a considerable amount of bad press regarding the incident, settled the matter by returning Slobodkin's original, smaller-scale maquette and commissioning from him another copy of the statue, this time to the tune of $1600.

A seven-and-a-half-foot cast (half the size of the one intended for The Fair) was quickly produced and placed...in an out-of-the-way basement courtyard of the Department of the Interior Building in Washington, DC. On view since August 1939, the statue can still be seen today. But it certainly deserves better.

Above, the Slobodkin statue in its current location at the US Deaprtment of the Interior Buidilng

Another copy of the statue was cast and placed in Lincoln, Nebraska in 2000.

Meet Their Majesties

In my opinion (one that is likely shared by many Fair enthusiasts and collectors), the single most important and valuable Fair "relic," the ultimate "souvenir," has got to be the guestbook that Fair President Grover Whalen kept. Filled with the signatures of visiting celebrities and dignitaries, the King and Queen of England signed the book when they visited The Fair in June, 1939. (They arrived late.)

New York Public Library

I believe I read somewhere that there are several of these books in existence; I got to see one two years ago when "Centuries of Progress: America's World's Fairs, 1853-1982" came to The Long Island Museum at Stony Brook. The book was quite the highlight of the exhibit, opened to the page bearing the royal signatures (which occupy a page all their own).

The book on display at Stony Brook is in a private collection. Alas, I can't show you a picture, since photography was prohibited. (Actually, I had my brother-in-law snap a few surreptitious pix with his phone, but they're so blurry that it doesn't make sense to post them.)

But it's nice to know the owner is amenable to exhibiting his treasure; hopefully it will be available for viewing again in the not-too-distant future!

Great Scot!

One of The Fair's most popular attractions was the railroads exhibit, and it's not hard to see why. The Duchess of Hamilton, one of the London Midland and Scottish Railway's luxury trains, was sent across the pond for a 3,000 mile tour of the colonies before being put on display at The Fair. The Duchess was, however, first re-christened The Coronation Scot. The real Coronation Scot was a slightly older train, inaugurated in 1937 for the coronation (hence its name) of George VI. (The real Scot was also blue with silver accents.)

The Duchess had also to be fitted with a headlamp and bell in order to make her legal for American rails. After The Fair, the Duchess became something of a war refugee, not returning home to England until 1942.

"The Coronation Scot" (far left) at The Fair

What a pity we don't
travel like this anymore!

Not long ago, The Duchess of Hamilton's locomotive was given a make-over to restore her to her original streamlined gorgeousness, and was unveiled in 2009 at Britain's National Railway Museum in York, where she can been seen and admired today.

The Eagle Has Landed

High atop two flagpoles flanking what is now Industry Pond (their original location in the park is a bit of a mystery) in Flushing Meadows Corona Park sit two stylized art deco eagles, retained form the 1939 Fair. Though said at various times to have been "gifts" from Nazi Germany, this myth is, thankfully, almost wholly discredited today.

Documentary evidence in the New York Public Library and elsewhere shows the eagles to be the work of sculptor Robert Foster. Indeed, the eagles are perfectly in keeping with Foster's demonstrated style; compare them with his Mercury sculpture, which adorned the Ford Pavilion, for instance.

Assertions of this alleged Nazi connection are rendered even more silly when one remembers that the eagle is the national bird of the United States...its presence in the park would be wholly expected and thoroughly unremarkable.

Elektro in New York Now Through March 31 Only

There’s not a hell of a lot to be seen at the Museum of the City of New York’s exhibition Designing Tomorrow: America’s World’s Fairs of the 1930s, which relies heavily on photographs, video and ephemera not always optimally reproduced. In addition, there’s a handful of souvenirs, a few exhibit pieces (like the Sunbeam T-9 toaster), some striking models (including a very impressive Trylon and Perisphere), and artists’ renderings of both realized and un-realized fair buildings, structures, and exhibits. (MCNY’s exhibit covers six fairs, so the amount of material from 1939 is actually quite minimal.)

The real star of the show, though, has got to be the life-size replica of Elektro, the walking, talking, cigarette-smoking robot that wowed audiences at the Westinghouse Pavilion in ‘39. The original Elektro resides in Mansfield, Ohio, in a museum that’s only open a few hours on weekends during the milder months. Presumably the Elektro at MCNY is the replica created and owned by the Mansfield museum, though MCNY provides no detail. And, to tell the truth, I thought that he looks like he’s made out of plastic or fiberglass, not metal...



Elektro was featured in Westinghouse's promotional film The Middleton Family at the New York World's Fair, which probably more accurately should have been titled The Middleton Family at the Westinghouse Pavilion. Elektro also appeared in the 1960 comedy Sex Kittens Go to College under the name Thinko. 

Elektro will be at the Museum of the City of New York now through the end of March.

Souvenir lapel pin, featuring Elektro, from 
the Westinghouse Pavilion (Author's Collection)

A View From the Bridge

The Bridge of Flags in 1939;
from the Richard Wurts/Dover paperback

As previously noted, anyone who knows anything about The Fair knows that there are two structures from 1939 still standing in situ in Flushing Meadows: the New York City Building and the Boat House. But it's curious to me how many overlook an important third Fair structure from 1939--the Bridge of Flags. Also referred to as the "Spillway" bridge, it led from the Town of Tomorrow to "Gardens on Parade" and into the foreign zone, which lay to the northeast.












Perhaps its anonymity can be attributed to the fact that the bridge lay on the periphery of the fairgrounds, and does not seem to be indicated by name on any Fair maps. And while one can purchase postcards of the "Bridge of Wings" (one of two bridges that spanned Grand Central Parkway and provided access form the main fairgrounds to the Transportation Zone, the other being the Bridge of Wheels) on eBay, it would seem that the Bridge of Flags was not deemed important enough to be immortalized on a postcard.

December, 2012

To what porpoise?

Today the bridge goes by the name "Porpoise Bridge", which is the name I am assuming was assigned to it for the '64-65 Fair. Why, I cannot imagine...just how many porpoises show up in Flushing Meadows?

Now Playing

The Fair was, of course, intended (originally at least) to be uplifting, educational, and inspirational. According to most authoritative accounts, the Amusement Zone was only admitted to The Fair rather late in the game, when organizers realized that if they wanted to attract the crowds they hoped for, they would have to include something to appeal to the baser instincts. The Amusement Zone (dubbed "The Great White Way") was segregated from the main Fair grounds, and most amusements required additional admission.

But there were other entertainments to be enjoyed that were perfectly in keeping with the vision of The Fair's creators. For a number of years I had heard (read, really) that the documentary films "The City", "The Plow That Broke The Plains", and "The River" were shown at The Fair, but I could never confirm this detail. Well, after a little bit of research at The New York Times, I was able recently to determine that these films, along with a few others, were, in fact, screened as part of The Little Theatre Film Program in the Science and Education Building, located right next to the statue of George Washington at the very center of The Fair.

See Today, 1pm for Showtimes

And guess what? These three films are available on DVD. A fourth, Let My People Live, can be seen and downloaded here. So you can program your own Fair Film Festival! 

The City is available here...

And Plow and River here...

I have to confess, though. As interesting and as important as these films might be as historic documents, as examples of documentary filmmaking, they're pretty dry, pretty tough to sit through. No wonder Fair-goers needed to take a parachute jump, or enjoy some "Living Magazine Covers"!

A still from The Plow that Broke the Plains

Set a Spell

Naturally an area as large as Flushing Meadows-Corona Park would require enough public outdoor seating to accommodate Fair-goers with weary, aching, feet. Two new park bench designs were created for The Fair. Of the 6700 benches that covered the Fair’s 1200+ acres, 1500 were backless, designed so as to not interefere with the view of certain landscaped sections of The Fair.

The benches were manufactured by Kenneth Lynch & Sons in Oxford, CT. Lynch is still in business and still producing the benches today. You can even buy one for your own garden! The 6-foot bench will run you about $700.00.

Benches in storage between seasons;
black-andwhite photos from the New York Public Library

Gloria, cold and camera-shy, on
on of the "Jetson" benches, 2005

A new bench with a much more futuristic look (David Dunlap in The New York Times described it as having “boomerang-shaped, Jetsons-style legs”) was designed for the 1964-65 Fair. You can still see these sleek aluminum beauties at Flushing Meadows. (Also originally manufactured by Lynch, a cast-iron version of this design is available from them as well.)

So what became of all those benches from the first Fair? You can still see the '39 design, including the backless version, all over town. My first thought was that those original 6700 benches were relocated throughout the City sometime between 1940 and 1964. That may well have been the case, but according to Timothy Lynch (Kenneth Lynch's son), none of the benches seen in various City parks today are from The Fair. This only makes sense: a cast iron and wood bench exposed to the elements is simply not going to survive for 70+ years.

BUT...also according to Mr. Lynch, an original '39 bench does, in fact, survive, and is housed in the Olmsted Center in Flushing Meadows-Corona Park. Originally constructed as the administration offices of the '64 Fair, the Olmsted Center is today headquarters to the Queens Parks Department.

So today I used a PTO day and rode out to The Fairgrounds. To find The Bench. I was simultaneously delighted and dismayed. The bench is there, sure enough, but it suffers the indignity of being relegated to a thoroughly dreary, drab, and depressing hallway; the pictures speak for themselves. Everyone was really nice, and I even got a lady to agree to take my picture on The Bench. But really, this noble Fair survivor deserves better, is worthy of a setting befitting its heritage, one that will enable it to be seen and appreciated by more people. The Queens Museum across the park would be a much more ideal location, I should think.

I noticed a few things about the bench, however: the right arm (right as you're facing the bench, not as you're sitting on it) is of a heavier casting than the center and right arms; the foot of the left arm end does not have the bolt hole seen on the other two arms and on more recently produced benches; and the decorative detailing on the left arm is also slightly, though obviously, different. I suspect that the left arm is original, and the center and right arms are replacements. From when, I couldn't say. The wood slats are considerably worn, and full of worm holes; these could certainly be original. And of course they wouldn't have been painted bright orange in '39! Still, this is the closest to an original Fair park bench that we have. 

Next time you're in the vicinity of the Olmsted Center, stop in and have a look; the gals at the the front desk will direct you down the correct corridor.

More on that plate glass chair...

A little more research on the plate glass chairs from the Glass Center revealed that another one was sold at auction in 2010 for a little over 9 thousand dollars, nearly twice the going rate in 2003. The auction site cites Arts & Architecture magazine, mentioning that the chair had been sold by J. W. Robinson Co., a high-end Los Angeles home furnishings retailer.

A quick trip to the New York Public Library confirmed this: there was the chair, unmistakably on page 15 of the October, 1947 issue of Arts & Architecture in a Robinson ad. But it's not quite the same chair: the manufacturer is given as Turchin; the glass does not appear to be clear; the cushion appears thicker; and the Robinson chair clearly has additional padding along the inside top back.



I find very little information regarding Turchin on the 'net: they seem to have started out as a much smaller operation, producing, among other things, decorative glass blocks, bookends and aquaria. No mention is made in the Robinson ad of the original chair design, designer, or any Fair connection. Did Turchin simply copy the design? Who knows?

But it would seem that there could certainly be a few chairs out there that date from after The Fair. Assuming, though, that the Brooklyn and Carnegie Museums have done their homework, I am fairly confident that their chairs are Fair originals.