When public outcry compelled Amazon to pack up its plans for an expansive headquarters on Long Island and leave town in 2018, few New Yorkers expected the e-retail giant to come knocking on their city’s doors again. But now, barely ten months later, Amazon has done precisely that.
In early December of 2019, Amazon announced its intention to open a new office on the western side of Manhattan. According to reporting from the Wall Street Journal, the tech giant plans to redevelop a property on 410 Tenth Avenue in Hudson Yards that will span 335,000 square feet and employ over 1,500 employees.
Compared to the e-retailer’s initial plans, the space is humble — even tiny. The original vision for Amazon’ New York City headquarters anticipated a sprawling campus that would host thousands of workers, a tech startup incubator, and a school. Amazon expected the site to create as many as 25,000 jobs within its first decade, as well as several thousand construction and ancillary roles. Analysts projected that within 25 years, the new headquarters would have generated over $27.5 billion in revenue for the state.
In comparison, the Hudson Yards office might seem underwhelming, even anticlimactic. But the new office space does have something that the original HQ2 definitively did not — an affordable price point.
When Amazon was in the process of deciding which city would host its high-potential HQ2, New York leadership packed its bid with perks. In total, the public funds given to Amazon would have topped $3 billion, with the state compensating the e-retailer around $48,000 per job.
The expected cost was shocking at the time. Now, some reports indicate that the amount paid by the public might have been even higher. In early January of this year, the Wall Street Journal revealed that New York’s deal with Amazon would have included an additional $800 million in incentives and a promise to pay a portion of employees’ salaries.
When news of the deal spread, controversy erupted. The public pushed back against the partnership and rejected its cost, citing the price as one New Yorkers were not prepared or willing to pay. Eventually, the tide of negative public opinion pushed Amazon to withdraw from the deal, writing: “A number of state and local politicians have made it clear that they oppose our presence and will not work with us to build the type of relationships that are required to go forward with the project we and many others envisioned in Long Island City.”
Amazon’s plans for a New York HQ2 fell apart because the city wasn’t able to pay a high price for its presence — which makes it all the more surprising that the new office is not only small, but will be built without any special incentives, tax credits, or kickbacks.
This isn’t to say that Amazon won’t receive any support from the city. In a recent article, one writer for Business Insider pointed out that commercial tenants in Hudson Yards can qualify for tax breaks that provide up to a 40 percent discount for up to 20 years. However, these perks fall far short of the billions of dollars in incentives that Amazon might have received with the original deal.
For some New Yorkers, Amazon’s decision to return so quickly despite their public rejection shows that the city’s position as a leading business center is strong enough not to require a portfolio of incentives. As economist James Parrott recently commented for the Wall Street Journal, “It’s clear the main reason Amazon wanted to be [in New York City] was the availability of a skilled tech workforce plus the synergy with related industries.”
In this way, the news of Amazon’s new office is more proof that New York is one of the country’s most promising tech hubs. New Yorkers will surely be interested in seeing how this new, humbler, and more affordable office develops.
Amazon’s new outpost is scheduled to open in 2021.
When it comes to representing real women, it’s fair to say that Central Park has been somewhat behind the times. Sure, the park features delightful fictional women and fantastical statues of imaginary women — but to date, the only named female icon is an eleven-foot-tall bronze casting of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. Not a single one of the park’s 23 historically-based statues honors a real, influential woman.
Change, however, is on the horizon. On October 21st, New York City’s Public Design Commission officially approved the preliminary design for a bronze-and-granite statue that will feature three of America’s most prominent suffragettes: Sojourner Truth, Susan B. Anthony, and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. The project is backed by Monumental Women, a nonprofit dedicated to bringing female representation to the park’s cohort of historical monuments.
“42 million people visit Central Park every year,” Namitha Luthra, a member of the nonprofit’s board of directors commented for Quartz, “They deserve to see real women—women who built this country, who helped realize the American promise, who helped expand our definition of we the people.”
The project is on track to complete next fall. The finished statue will officially be unveiled on August 26th, 2020, to honor the centennial anniversary of the ratification of the 19th Amendment and will be installed at Central Park’s Literary Walk.
The 14-foot-high monument shows the three women crowded around a table with their books piled around them, engaged in discussion and the pursuit of change. The statue emanates intensity, and the implied strain between Truth and her companions hints at the underlying tensions over race that were inherent to the suffragette movement.
Interestingly, the current plan for the statue is a revision. Initially, the figure depicted only Anthony and Stanton — and quickly came under censure when critics pointed out that the statue was not only racially homogenous but also featured two women who were known for their racist rhetoric. These concerns have been addressed in the new version, which brings in Sojourner Truth (Author, “Ain’t I A Woman?”) to both provide a counterweight to the other feminists’ racial perspectives and create a more diverse representation of the suffragette movement.
For project sculptor Meredith Bergmann, the change had profound meaning. “My hope is that all people, but especially young people, will be inspired by this image of women of different races, different religious backgrounds, and different economic status working together to change the world,” she shared following the Commission’s vote on the project.
This statue has been in development for years. Monumental Women first initiated its efforts to design and identify a place for the statue in 2014. The $1.5 million project was primarily funded by public contributions and received considerable funding from Girl Scout cookie sales. New York City gave $135,000 to the efforts.
Today, the project is on-track to rectify — at least in some small part — the lack of representation for female changemakers in Central Park.
As Pam Elam, the president of Monumental Women, recently put the matter in a press release: “With this statue, we are finally breaking the bronze ceiling.”
It will be exciting to see what new heights New York ascends to without such a barrier.
What can technology do to preserve New York City’s historic sites?
It’s a real question, and one that has become ever-more pressing in recent years. We tend to think of our historical sites as unchangeable, protected, and set in stone — especially since most of the more prominent ones are made from it. But stone crumbles, and circumstances change.
We lived this truth firsthand less than a decade ago, when Hurricane Sandy’s storm surge tore through New York City. It flooded streets and subway tunnels, cut power, and put countless historical sites at risk for damage or outright destruction. The struggle to preserve these at-risk spaces is particularly challenging because, as one writer for Preservation New Jersey describes, “The [storm] recovery process is by nature not one that necessarily allows for the time, thoughtful planning, and holistic assessment that appropriate historic preservation requires. Anytime a historic resource is significantly damaged, it is threatened.”
But historical losses don’t always come with meteorological forecasts and time to prepare, as the global community saw when the Notre Dame cathedral burned.
There’s a real risk; in the future, New York’s very history may be on the line. Luckily, though, technology can give us the tools we need to preserve it.
3D Mapping for Preservation and Education
Traditionally, historians would map important sites using two-dimensional methods and non-digital tools. In recent years, however, 3D-scanning has risen to the forefront of the preservation conversation. In 2015, researchers from Japan’s Kanazawa University applied 3D scanning technology to map Shang Shu Di, a Chinese heritage site in the Fujian Province. They found that the 3D tools could provide a far more accurate and detailed record of historic buildings. Their findings, among other research, sparked a widespread shift towards digitally-powered preservation in the architectural and preservation communities.
This mapping tech is already being used to preserve at-risk sites, albeit under more tragic and less experimental circumstances.
In Syria, the Institute of Digital Archeology reproduced the 2,000-year-old Triumphal Arch, which was destroyed in Palmyra during ISIS occupation. At a third of the original’s size, the replica wasn’t an exact copy of the original monument; however, cutting-edge 3D technology gave historians the power to preserve the memory and importance of the site even when it was damaged beyond repair. Similarly, Somali Architecture uses 3D scanning tools to preserve historically significant locations that were destroyed during wartime by producing accurate and digitally-accessible 3D models.
“What this goes to show is that even destroyed heritage can be returned to us in some way—as long as there is proper documentation of it. […] We no longer have to be content with saying, ‘Well, it’s been destroyed, so it’s gone forever.’” Nada Hosking, Director of Programs and Partnerships at the Global Heritage Fund, commented in a recent article.
However, she notes that while these digital tools are invaluable, they cannot replace the sites they scan. “Recreations and reconstructions may have the look and feel of a heritage site or monument, but they lack the historical depth of them, and we cannot neglect to preserve what history has handed down to us,” Hosking cautions.
Her point is valid; however, after the fires at Notre Dame, it seems wiser to double up our digital scanning and preservation efforts, if only to protect the historical significance of a site against natural events that render real-world preservation impossible.
VR Can Preserve Cultural Memory and Pass on Lessons
Sometimes, the cultural memories of a place fade faster than the site itself. VR can provide a new way for historians to preserve stories from those who lived through significant periods in New York’s history — as well as offer a more immersive method of sharing those stories, even as their tellers fade into history.
Take The Last Goodbye as an example. The VR experience debuted in 2017 at the Tribeca Film Festival and served as a 17-minute testimony of what it was like to survive the Holocaust. The project’s guide and narrator, 85-year-old Pinchas Gutter, recounts the loss of his family and his time in Majdanek concentration and death camp.
For Gutter, participating in the VR experience and being visible as a storyteller was crucial to his mission to ensure that knowledge of the Holocaust persists even as those who experienced it firsthand pass on. In an interview with Wired, he explained that “Without that living, breathing reminder, the Holocaust becomes easy to forget—or even deny. Without personal accounts […] it’s hard for people to accept its atrocities as ‘the gospel truth.’”
The Last Goodbye exemplifies a story that must be shared for the good of our current and future societies. It has historical significance and meaning on par with — even in excess of — a historical site. Stories like Gutter’s must be preserved; this mode of immersive, VR-powered journalism provides a means to do it.
Few New Yorkers have Gutter’s experiences or recollections that are imbued with similar historical significance. However, they do have memories worth preserving and stories that are worth recording for the sake of the city’s cultural memory. They can provide insight into the social evolution of New York City and provide first-hand accounts of pivotal events that won’t be lost to age and time.
New York may seem eternal when you walk its streets, but its historical sites and memories aren’t. We need to use technology to preserve its history — before it’s too late to do so.
New York City isn’t exactly the first place that most outdoorsy hobbyists picture when they think of a hike. After all, it’s an urban landscape; one built with concrete, crowded with skyscrapers, bustling with people — and distinctly lacking the peaceful woodsiness that most people associate with long treks. Some thru-hikers, however, see the city as just as much a place for hiking as any natural expanse. They plot trips along its sidewalks and staircases with as much enthusiasm as they would long-reaching mountain trails and switchbacks, and view bodegas and coffee shops with the same relief that they would a woodsy rest stop at the end of a long day.
For fast-paced, be-there-yesterday New Yorkers, embarking on a thru-hike and slogging through the city’s streets when a perfectly serviceable subway trip is available might seem like a bizarre waste of time — and it’s true, thru-hiking requires a perspective shift. Walking miles through the cityscape is meant to slow the walker down; to make them think about and experience the city in an entirely new way. Urban thru-hikers are forbidden from backtracking or using public transportation, although they can plan their routes to coincide with convenience stores, restaurants, AirBnBs, landmarks or whatever else they might need or be interested in seeing.
Bob Inman, the creator of the Inman 300 thru-hike in Los Angeles and author of Finding Los Angeles on Foot, describes these urban hikes as about “perforating the barriers within communities that car culture creates… about finding what is notable, historical, quizzical, and beautiful in this great city while walking.”
Inman frames thru-hiking as a feat of exploration. Other thru-hikers, however, have taken his philosophy a step further and made urban foot travel almost an act of social commentary; an in-depth investigation and celebration of what a city does and does not have to offer at the pedestrian level.
Consider thru-hiker and activist Liz “Snorkel” Thomas’ work in New York City. An avid hiker, Thomas is best known in the hiking community for her accomplishments in more stereotypical hiking landscapes. In 2011, she walked the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine in 80 days and 13 hours, temporarily earning the title of the fastest woman to ever do so. Throughout her career, she has accumulated over 15,000 miles on long-distance trails — including several hundred on New York’s urban terrain.
In New York, Thomas wasn’t on the lookout for winding woodland trains; instead, she sought out playgrounds. Earlier this year, the avid hiker spent several months collaborating with the Trust for Public Land (TPL) to design a nine-day hike that would weave through public play spaces. Her trek was meant to highlight the work that TPL’s New York City Playgrounds Program has done to ensure that all city residents can find green space within a ten-minute walk. Since its establishment in 1996, the Playground Program has transformed over 200 unused paved lots into community playgrounds. Thomas’ 225-mile route stops at a full half of the converted spaces.
For Thomas, the hike itself wasn’t as crucial as immersing herself in the communities she traveled through and drawing attention to the importance of having accessible green space. “If you’re trying to teach a kid how to ride a bike, you can’t just stick the bike in the back of the car and drive to a park like my dad did when I was learning to ride,” she told one reporter for Adventure Journal. “These schoolyards are not just there for the school; they serve such an important function to the community that lives around it.”
Thru-hiking is, in this way, an act of advocacy and public service — a way to not only appreciate and learn more about the city but to press a cause with an appreciation for work that has already been done.
Liz isn’t the first person to explore accessibility and social causes in New York through hiking, either. Consider Curbed reporter Karrie Jacob’s walk to the notoriously pedestrian-unfriendly La Guardia as an example. Jacobs planned her trip in part because Google Maps informed her that the trek was nearly impossible on foot — and even if she did make it, the path would drop her on the wrong side of the Grand Central Parkway.
“It was an expedition,” she writes, “like Magellan circumnavigating the earth or Lewis and Clark trekking to the Pacific Ocean, except we were heading to a place that had already been thoroughly discovered—by some 30 million passengers a year—and is only five miles, as the crow flies, from midtown Manhattan.”
And yet, the discoveries Jacobs found weren’t the ones she anticipated. She found that rather than blazing a wholly new trail, she realized that she was walking a well-trodden — if poorly-designed and challenging to traverse — path that countless airport workers use every day. She writes:
“I thought we were explorers, discovering an unknown route to the airport, but it turns out that roughly 120 people go that way every day. And I realized something that should have been obvious from the outset: For those employed at LGA, it’s as much a neighborhood as the Financial District is for those who work on Wall Street.”
This realization says something significant about urban thru-hiking and, really, urban exploration in general. We have preconceived notions about what our city is — what it has, what it lacks, what it feels like to travel through it. When we look down on our communities from an elevated train car, we barely have a chance to see them, let alone understand them. We lose our ability to gain a real understanding of what communities — ones that we may not even realize exist — need, as well as our ability to appreciate the small, beautiful qualities that can only be seen on foot.
Perhaps more of us should follow Liz Thomas and Karrie Jacobs’ examples — if only for the chance to better understand and care for the city we call home.
Everyone needs a periodic rest and recovery, and New York’s iconic stone lions are no exception. Starting in September, the New York Public Library’s (NYPL) leonine statues will be cleaned and restored to pristine condition. The city has earmarked $250,000 to fund the restoration and expects the process to take roughly nine weeks to complete.
“The lions have earned some time at the spa,” New York Public Library President Anthony Marx told Curbed earlier this month, “As great stewards of this building, it is critical that we maintain the lions and ensure that they are strong to inspire everyone for generations to come.”
Marx is right in that the century-old statues need care. The lions’ welfare has been a matter of outspoken concern for a while now. While a large portion of the restoration fund stems from a sizeable grant from the New York Life Foundation, hundreds of New Yorkers donated to support the initiative. For some resident activists, the cause was so important that they took to major media to press the importance of repairs. One such supporter reached out to New York Post journalist John Crudele before the restoration plans were announced, writing, “It was Mayor Fiorello La Guardia who named the lions. If he were alive today, he would be in an uproar about their condition.”
A tad dramatic, perhaps, but the writer had a point. Stone, despite its reputation, doesn’t last forever. One lion is currently missing a chunk from his hind leg and right underbelly, and further sports a chipped front paw and cracked hindquarters.
The wear sounds severe, but — as experts have pointed out in recent articles on the matter — is entirely reasonable and expected. The lions were first carved from porous Tennessee pink marble in 1911, and have been carefully restored periodically — usually on a schedule of once every seven to ten years — to counteract the impact of traffic exhaust, environmental erosion, and human contact. Given that the last conservation efforts occurred in 2011, the work planned for September is right on schedule.
The upcoming restoration efforts will be facilitated by WJE Engineers and Architects and Integrated Conservation Contracting. Conservationists will perform a full assessment, repair cracks with grout, and conduct a thorough laser cleaning that will remove accumulated material from the statues without further damaging the stone. During the process, both lions will be covered in plywood to protect them from environmental harm.
“We know it will be hard to have them covered for nine weeks, but we ask the public to have patience and fortitude,” Marx urged, “This work is critical and must be done.”
Marx’s words might seem like standard PR jargon to those unfamiliar with the NYPL — but those who live in the city can recognize the pun in his phrasing. The stone lions’ names are, as Marx subtly referenced, Patience and Fortitude. Patience watches over the south side of the Library’s steps, and Fortitude rests to the north.
Interestingly, while the lions are best known by those names, their catchalls have changed over the years. When the lions were first carved by the Bronx-based Piccirilli brothers at the start of the 20th century, they were called Leo Astor and Leo Lenox in tribute to the NYPL’s founders, John Jacob Astor and James Lenox. Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia gave the lions their modern names in the 1930s, saying that New Yorkers would need Patience and Fortitude to survive the economic recession of the time.
Since then, the names have stuck — and the lions’ import to New Yorkers has grown. Books have been written about Patience and Fortitude; the pair have been immortalized through countless photographs, art, and memorabilia. As one writer for the NYPL itself describes, “The Lions have witnessed countless parades and been adorned with holly wreaths during the winter holidays and magnificent floral wreaths in springtime […] They have been photographed alongside countless tourists, replicated as bookends, caricatured in cartoons, and illustrated in numerous children’s books.”
Today, Patience and Fortitude serve as icons of life in New York City. With all the joy and local pride that the lions symbolize, New Yorkers can bear the nine weeks of restorations gamely, knowing that by the end, the statues will emerge as majestic as ever — for the next decade or so, at least.
Want to know more about the history of NYC’s most iconic landmarks? Check out our post, The History of NYC in 6 Bridges!
New York City is known for being a hard-driving metropolis — literally. At nearly every intersection, you can hear a car’s honk, squealing brakes, and the occasional swear from a cut-off driver or jaywalking pedestrian. New Yorkers want to get where they want to go, and they want to get there now. The city’s passion for moving fast is practically a cliche; having an attitude to match is a characteristic part of living in New York.
However, this move-fast-and-get-there culture comes at a cost. On average, vehicle accidents seriously injure or kill one New Yorker every two hours; according to recently-published findings, roughly 4,000 New Yorkers experience severe injury and over 200 die in traffic-related accidents each year. These numbers are shocking, especially given the sheer avoidability of most car accidents.
But what if navigating daily life in the city wasn’t so dangerous? Is it possible to lean into that avoidability in a way that could make New York’s fast-paced attitude safer and more peaceful for all?
The answer seems to be yes. While the number of traffic fatalities seems high at a glance — and to be clear, it is — the fatality rates and injury rates reported in the city have nevertheless been on a steep decline for several years. In the five years between 2018 and 2013, the total number of people killed in traffic collisions in New York dropped from 299 to a comparatively low 200. As matters stand, New York’s fatality statistics are currently at their lowest recorded level since the city began collecting such data in 1910.
This is all good news — but why has this change come to pass? Most attribute the positive change to a 2014 citywide initiative called Vision Zero.
What is Vision Zero?
While Vision Zero has been the impetus for sweeping change in New York, it did not start in the city — or, for that matter, the country. The program first took root in Sweden during the 1990s. The initiative developed around a revolutionary new philosophy towards urban planning and design; rather than place sole responsibility for traffic safety on drivers and pedestrians, the program attributes partial accountability on system designers and policymakers to lessen the potentiality of crashes and ensure that when they do occur, the damage they cause is negligible.
Or, as one writer for the program in New York describes the founding idea: “Vision Zero recognizes that people will sometimes make mistakes, so the road system and related policies should be designed to ensure those inevitable mistakes do not result in severe injuries or fatalities.”
The program acknowledges that designing or overhauling public streets is a complex issue that encompasses a multitude of factors such as roadway design, behaviors, speeds, technology, and policies — all of which require input from different municipal departments. To that end, Vision Zero provides the framework for a cross-disciplinary and collaborative approach between local engineers, policymakers, traffic planners, and public health professionals.
The program’s approach has shown results across its home of Sweden, Europe, and now, New York City.
Tracking Vision Zero’s Impact in NYC
Mayor Bill De Blasio instituted NYC’s version of Vision Zero in 2014. In its original form, the plan encompassed 63 specific initiatives deployed across six city departments. Within its first year, Vision Zero committed $52 million to fund safety-related projects, overhauled 35 dangerous intersections, dropped posted speed limits to 25 mph on 27 high-fatality streets, and collaborated with the NYPD to conduct targeted enforcement efforts for speeding, distracted driving, and failure to yield.
More recently, Vision Zero organizers further opted to both increase the number of traffic cameras in school zones by over 500% and to expand their hours of operation. By June of 2020, these cameras will be installed throughout high-crash corridors across the five boroughs; notable areas include but are not limited to Hylan Boulevard in Staten Island, the Grand Concourse in the Bronx, Northern Boulevard in Queens, Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, and First Avenue in Manhattan.
All of these efforts have borne results, as the record-setting drop in New York’s traffic fatalities demonstrates. Mayor De Blasio himself recently highlighted the win in an interview for the New York Times by saying, “Vision Zero is clearly working.”
However, there is still work to be done. While traffic deaths are at an all-time low, pedestrian fatalities have seen a worrisome rise. According to recent statistics, the number of such deaths rose from 107 in 2017 to 114 in 2018. The uptick is troubling, given that pedestrian accidents tend to inflict more severe damage than any other form of traffic collision.
“Drivers haven’t taken their responsibility to yield very seriously,” Mayor De Blasio commented for the Times. “There has been a lot of enforcement, and there will be more.”
His point cuts to the founding principle of Vision Zero. Regardless of whether they walk, drive, or bike, New Yorkers deserve to feel safe as they move through their city — and it’s the city’s responsibility to make sure they have an environment that allows them to do so.