Manhattan: Lower East Side to World Trade Center Great American Railroad Journeys

I have crossed the Atlantic to ride the railroads of America...

..with a new travelling companion.

Published in 1879,

my Appletons' General Guide will steer me to everything

that's novel,

beautiful,

memorable or curious in the United States.

-CHOIR:

-Amen!

As I cross the continent, I will discover America's Gilded Age,

when powerful tycoons launched a railway boom

that tied the nation together

and carved out its future as a superpower.

I'm continuing my journey through the so-called Empire State,

from New York City, following the Hudson River to Poughkeepsie

and the New York state capital of Albany.

From there, I'll head west to the Great Lakes

to take in Rochester and Buffalo

and I'll finish my journey on the Canadian border at Niagara Falls.

I'm exploring New York City,

travelling around Manhattan Island using the subway.

Today I'll find out about the hardships

faced by tenement dwellers on the Lower East Side,

discover an elevated railroad relic, the High Line Park,

visit Ellis Island, the gateway to America for millions,

and end my journey at the new World Trade Center.

Along the way, I get into a scrap on the Lower East Side.

I used to be in politics myself, actually. I didn't buy any votes.

-Didn't buy any votes.

-Well, neither did I, did I now?

We don't buy votes.

I try to grasp the scale of European emigration to America.

This hall was designed to process 4,000 people

and sometimes, at its peak,

it processed as many as three times that per day.

And I get a poignant glimpse of the future for transport in Manhattan.

The sun will shine directly into this building

at the moment the last tower fell. We call that the wedge of light.

During the late 19th century,

the American railroad industry grew rapidly.

In 1860,

there were just 30,000 miles of tracks across the continent.

By 1900, 200,000 miles of railroad connected the states

and tied the nation together.

But profits from the booming new business

were concentrated in very few hands.

New York City was the starting point for many wanting a new life.

SIREN

I'm taking the subway to the Lower East Side,

a part of town definitely not mentioned in my guide book.

In a gilded age that began around the time of my Appletons' Guide,

tycoons who'd made their fortunes from railroads, steel and banking

dined and danced and smoked their cigars

by the light of countless chandeliers

and travelled in private railway cars

but how did the other half live?

In the last decades of the 19th century,

the city's population grew from 1 million to 3.5 million.

Thousands of immigrants crowded into insanitary buildings

in Lower Manhattan.

To get an idea of those conditions,

I'm meeting Annie Polland at the Lower East Side Tenement Museum.

-Annie, hello.

-Hi. Welcome.

-I find you in this rather gruesome tenement.

-Yes.

How many people would have lived in a place like this?

Around 1870, about 80 people lived in a tenement,

so about four to five people per apartment.

-One room or several rooms?

-Three small rooms.

They called them railroad apartments because there was no hallway

within the actual apartment, so one room led to another.

There was no running water in the building at this time.

All running water was outside so, if you needed water to clean,

to wash, you're going to go down the stairs,

out into what was called the rear yard.

And then next to the water faucet, basically,

is about four outdoor toilets.

And, presumably, people were carrying their waste

-down from their apartments.

-Absolutely.

Have we any ideas how many New Yorkers lived in tenements?

By 1900, you have about 75% of New Yorkers living in tenements.

Heavens.

On the floor above, a tenement from the 1900s has been recreated.

-What are the differences?

-First of all, you have many more people

living in the tenements by the end of the 19th century.

By 1900, we have about 111 people, according to the Census.

There might have been even more than that.

The majority of people living here are Eastern European Jews

who've come over in large numbers to make New York

the largest Jewish city in the world.

The tenements became the heart of the garment industry.

Manufacturers used home workers,

avoiding the expense of running a factory.

So, in this very apartment,

a man named Harris Levine lived with his wife, Jenny,

and would end up having five children

and every day at least three workers

would come and sit with him and make dresses.

And the irony I suppose is that a pretty pink dress like that

was not something that these people could have afforded.

No, this dress would go to Macy's

or would go in a catalogue and be shipped elsewhere.

The harsh conditions in the tenements

were captured by the pioneering photojournalist Jacob Riis

in his groundbreaking work of 1890, How the Other Half Lives.

So what impact did the publication of How the Other Half Lives make?

It was very important because it showed people who did not live

in the tenements what tenement life was like

and one of the goals of the Progressive Reform Movement

was to persuade people that it was not immigrants or the working-class

moral disposition that caused the problems they were in,

but rather it was the conditions they lived in

and so they argued for a series of laws and reforms

that would improve the conditions

and therefore improve the life for people in the city.

We all live in the city together and therefore the conditions

of the people who live downtown are going to affect the conditions

of the people who live uptown and therefore these laws and standards

are good not only for the tenement dwellers but for the whole city.

Riis's work shocked many Americans

and prompted the city to pass the 1901 Tenement House Act.

It stipulated indoor bathrooms and running water

and appointed inspectors to push landlords to comply with the law.

Irish immigrants were recruited to a corrupt political machine

known as Tammany Hall,

which, by means of ballot rigging,

helped to maintain Democratic Party control in the city

under leader William "Boss" Tweed.

Please!

What are you doing? Please, please!

-Joseph, is that your name?

-Yes.

I want you to listen to me close, all right?

Now I ask you to deliver votes, right?

If you can't deliver the votes for me, you're no good to me,

you're no good to Boss Tweed, you're no good to Tammany Hall,

you're no good to the Regular Democratic Party.

-Do you love your family? Do you want to keep them safe?

-Yes.

All right. Remember what I told you and be on your way.

What's going on here? Who are you people?

What was all that about Tammany hall?

It's the organisation what looks after these folks around here.

Tammany Hall is the seat of democratic power

-in the city of New York.

-It didn't sound very democratic.

-I heard you mention Boss Tweed.

-Right.

He's the head of the Democratic Party.

I used to be in politics myself, actually.

-Did you now?

-Yes, I did, I did.

But I didn't buy any votes. Didn't buy any votes.

Well, neither did I, did I now?

-We don't buy votes.

-OK.

Gentlemen, I'm so sorry. A misunderstanding.

You certainly did misunderstand.

I thought you said something about buying votes. I'm so sorry.

I think you better head back north where you came from.

-That was the way I was going.

-The streets down here can be dangerous

-if you don't know your way around.

-Very nice to meet you, gentlemen.

Limey...

I'm no stranger to bruising political battles

but city government in 19th century New York was a particularly

rough-and-tumble business and often alcohol-fuelled.

After that encounter, I need a good stiff drink

and at The Dead Rabbit bar, named after one of the most notorious

Irish gangs in the city, I'm meeting cocktail historian David Wondrich.

David.

-Hello, Michael. Welcome.

-What are we mixing today?

We thought we'd make some whiskey cocktails.

The original, the precursor to the Manhattan,

what the gents were drinking in all the saloons of New York

in the early 19th century.

So we'll just take a glass, then you're going to take

your sugar syrup - just a spoonful,

-and that goes in your glass.

-Thank you.

So how did cocktails really get going?

This was originally a morning drink, an eye-opener as it were,

which is a little bit frightening

and it comes from the English tradition

but with that special American brashness added to it.

Like so many things that are American,

we took something that somebody else had invented

and we put extra spin on it and made it our own.

In England, it was a tonic,

in America, it was the foundation of our culture, let's say.

A little bit of orange liqueur just to make it tasty,

maybe half a spoonful.

We're going to dash... three dashes of bitters.

The bitters is what make it the cocktail, originally.

-And who were the big inventors of cocktails?

-Bartenders.

If you wanted a drink, you didn't make it yourself,

you went and saw a professional.

You went and saw somebody who knew how to mix.

Somebody who would take rye whiskey like our big bottle here.

This is the original jigger we're using -

the original spirits measure.

And who was the most famous bartender?

Jerry Thomas in the 19th century was the most famous bartender.

In 1862, he wrote the first bartender's guide.

-Wow.

-Cocktails.

-Was that a first?

-It was the first of its kind.

And was he a flamboyant man?

He would consider you a little underdressed.

He tended bar with a bowler hat on and a pair of white rats

on his shoulder that would scamper around on his hat

and on his shoulders while he talked to people.

Could you make much money as a barman in those days?

Jerry Thomas made more money than the vice president

of the United States at the peak of his career.

He was doing extremely well.

And why is this place called The Dead Rabbit?

It's named after the Irish gang that John Morrissey lead.

Irish gang leader, bare-knuckle pugilist

and United States Congressman.

My day has been plagued by Irish gangs.

New York is as Irish a city as it is anything else, that's for sure.

I will cut us a couple of lemon twists.

Beautifully done. All right.

You have made your first whiskey cocktail. Let's see how it is.

19th century style.

Boy-oh-boy, that's lovely.

To oblivion.

After an evening of indulgence,

this morning I'm heading to the far West side of Manhattan Island

to visit a park known as the High Line.

In the 19th and early 20th centuries,

freight trains servicing the port were routed down Tenth Avenue.

A rather terrible death toll

when trains used to run along here at street level

led first to a horseman having to ride in front of each train,

waving a red flag,

and then to the creation of this elevated railway

which literally pierced the buildings on its path.

When it eventually fell out of use,

it was narrowly saved from demolition

and this beautiful linear park was created.

This sliver of leafy serenity above the crowded Manhattan streets

is nearly a mile and a half long

and the first section opened in 2009.

It's a magnificent example of railway heritage

adapted to bring greenery to the city.

A journey downtown takes me to Battery Park,

the southernmost tip of Manhattan.

The world at the time of my Appletons' Guide

bore some similarities to today's.

There were wars and massacres and persecutions

and terrified and impoverished migrants set out for a new life.

But, unlike nowadays, here, there was a vast, underpopulated continent

with a government willing to receive them

and New York City, as its gateway,

took in up to a million in a single year.

A short boat trip across the harbour

will take me to the first port of call for New York-bound immigrants.

-TANNOY:

-Welcome aboard. Our next stop will be Ellis Island.

Immigrants were greeted by the towering Statue of Liberty -

a gift from the people of France to the United States.

Dedicated in 1886,

seven years after the publication of my guide book,

Liberty's outstretched torch signified landfall,

new opportunities and freedom from persecution.

The settlers were processed at Ellis Island.

Between 1892 and 1924,

it was the nation's busiest immigration station.

I'm meeting genealogist Megan Smolenyak in the main hall.

Megan, this hall, with its vaulted ceiling,

I suppose for immigrants coming from European villages,

would have been impressive and intimidating too.

I think absolutely. It was intended to impress.

Most of them were coming from villages

with populations of maybe 500 or 1,000 people.

This hall was designed to process 4,000 people

and sometimes, at its peak,

it processed as many as three times that per day.

So just imagine the cacophony of echoes,

you're hearing all the sound, all these languages, just chaos,

and it's right when you're on the cusp of starting your new life.

At the end of the 19th century, beginning of the 20th,

where were they coming from principally?

Well, we were starting to get a shift.

Previously had been mostly from western Europe,

from the British Isles, Germany, that kind of thing.

Now, all of a sudden, we were getting lots of people

from southern and eastern Europe.

So lots of Italians, Poles, Slavs,

lots of people who were Jewish escaping the pogroms,

that kind of thing.

And the thing about immigrants is they're all survivors and strivers.

They didn't all get in. What was the process of weeding them out?

Basically, the process started as soon as you came up the stairs.

Whether you knew it or not, you were already being watched.

What the inspectors were looking for were medical conditions.

If they saw something, what happened is they would chalk you and

that would be an indication that you had to go for a further inspection.

Fortunately, not too many people did get sent home.

It was less than 2%.

Roughly half of that was for medical reasons

and half was for legal reasons.

On January 1st, 1892, the main building on Ellis Island

opened its doors to the world's tired and poor.

Huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

Those words are from the sonnet by Emma Lazarus.

You can find them engraved at the Statue of Liberty.

How many immigrants passed through Ellis Island?

It's estimated that about 12 million people came through Ellis Island

and that translates into about 40% of Americans today

having at least one Ellis Island immigrant in their family tree.

Did any of those millions become American celebrities?

I would say so.

You might have heard of a fellow by the name of Bob Hope, perhaps,

but also Bela Lugosi, Cary Grant also came here.

This was the place where they took their first step on American soil.

Unlike British-born Cary Grant and Bob Hope, most immigrants

passing through Ellis Island didn't become household names.

As they stepped onto the island, they started new lives as Americans.

Today, their descendants come from across the country

and the world to search for them on a computerised database.

-Hello, ladies. Excuse me.

-Hi.

-Are you simply tourists here

or do you have a family connection with Ellis Island?

We do have a family connection. We're looking for our grandfather.

-Where did your grandfather come from?

-He came from Greece.

Do you know which bit of Greece? Do you know what became of him?

He came from the island of Crete.

He was a well-known pharmacist in New York City.

-Really?

-And he married an immigrant family from Irish descent.

It is exciting because to know that our ancestors came here

and started their life and we have what we have today because of them.

They were brave enough to come here. It gives me tingles.

Well, I hope it's a really successful day

and in the nicest sense of the word an emotional one for you too.

-Thank you very much.

-Thank you.

Of the millions of immigrants who arrived here at Ellis Island,

some lived in poverty,

some did OK,

others became notorious gangsters,

some film stars,

others begat presidents.

Altogether, US immigration has been one of the greatest

social experiments in human history.

Back in Lower Manhattan, I'm drawn to visit the site

where the World Trade Center stood

until destroyed on September 11th, 2001.

We all remember where we were when we heard about

the terrorist attack of 9/11

and the horror that we felt and the fear.

And here at the pools that have been built in the footprint

of the Twin Towers, water pours ceaselessly into a void

whose depths are invisible, with a symbolism that I find very moving.

And here is the place to remember what we felt that day

and those who perished.

Here, very close to where the Twin Towers once stood,

they have built the Oculus -

the future transportation hub of Lower Manhattan.

An extraordinary piece of architecture.

What is it? It reminds me of a human rib cage,

perhaps a reminder of the frailty of the body.

Or is it maybe a bird?

I think that's it. I think it's a bird taking off.

It's a reminder that New York, once laid low by terrorism,

is now taking flight again.

Designed by the Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava,

the transportation hub will link 11 subway lines

with trains to New Jersey and the Hudson River Ferry Terminal.

Underground, the walls are covered with Italian marble

and one borders the original retaining wall

from the fallen North Tower.

The exterior ribs rise triumphantly

160 feet above ground level,

giving New York a new public space beneath.

I'm meeting Steven Plate, the deputy chief of capital planning

at the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey,

who is giving me a rare glimpse inside the ongoing construction.

Wow!

What an extraordinary building.

The skylight up above you, consisting of 40 pieces of glass,

will open so when you look down from up above

you'll see something looking like an eye looking at you.

The significance is, we went to great pains to turn the building

to the exact alignment of the sun

as it appears on September 11th at 10:28am,

that precise time the sun will shine directly into this building

at the moment the last tower fell. We call that the wedge of light.

It truly is one of a kind.

It is really a wonder.

The project has not been without difficulty.

Costs have doubled to almost 4 billion.

But no recent addition to New York's transit infrastructure

has dared to combine public utility

with such architectural flair.

It's a 21st century Grand Central.

The centrepiece of Ground Zero's redevelopment

is the nearly complete One World Trade Center,

once known as the Freedom Tower.

I'm taking the lifts at 23 miles per hour

to a part of the building normally off-limits to the public.

LIFT BEEPS RHYTHMICALLY Floor, floor, floor.

Every second, another floor, all the way up to 102.

-102.

-Thank you very much.

My ears are popping.

This is certainly a very special place,

here at the base of the mast that rises to 1,776 feet.

And a privileged few who have been able to visit here

have added their signatures.

Here's one from a survivor of 9/11.

And, in tribute, I'll add mine too.

A century ago, when New York City had already astonished the world

with its skyscrapers,

it proclaimed its greatness with an iconic gateway.

A railroad temple - Grand Central Terminal.

In the attack on the city on 9/11,

the terrorists symbolically mutilated the city

by destroying its two tallest buildings

as they murdered thousands of its citizens.

Here, rising 1,776 feet above their memorial,

the city has defiantly created and even taller building

while below it announces its comeback with a transport hub -

a latter-day railway cathedral.

Next time, I'll see how tourists following my guide book

glimpsed soaring views.

People thought they were just flying with the birds

walking across this bridge.

I'll discover how America's biggest infrastructure project

is reshaping both Manhattan and Long Island.

-You were literally blasting.

-We were literally blasting.

-Wow.

-And their Martinis didn't even shake.

-No, definitely not.

James Bond would have liked it!

And I'll relive the fun and the decadence of the Roaring Twenties.

CHARLESTON DANCE MUSIC