People who came to New York in the 70s and 80s found a city much different, and much the same as our city today, whether one came here for education or career or just a change from the often less-stimulating place we came from.
It was a tougher, edgier place then. But the great variety of opportunities, entertainments, or intellectual and cultural events available then are much the same today.
I think that any New Yorker will agree that one of the things most prized by those who live here is the ability to occasionally get away from the City and it’s constant, grinding churn.
A group of people found this prize in an unlikely place: a precarious, tumble-down pier in the literal shadow of Wall Street, at the bottom of the island. Pier 15 of the South Street Seaport Museum was home to a collection of old sailing ships from the great days of commercial sail, harbor tugs and lighters, cargo and fishing schooners, small rowing and sailing boats, and a small but proud square-rigger named Black Pearl. I was her Captain, in the late 80s and early 90s
Black Pearl was both an incentive and a diversion. Acquired by the ship Wavertree project’s leader, Jakob Isbrandtsen, she was to provide the volunteers working on Wavertree with an enjoyable break from the interesting but largely static work restoring the ship. She was to take those volunteers to sailing events, spread the word about what we were doing at South Street, and perhaps make some money for the larger project along the way.
Lisa found Black Pearl one evening in 1988. She quickly fell in love with the release one feels on the water as we traveled from Manhattan to various events, meetings, or just out for a weekend. She worked with Robin McNeill of the PBS news program to try to make a documentary of this small but important wooden ship. She reveled in the fresh breezes of the Caribbean, the chill winds of Newfoundland, and the warm spray of Cape Hatteras, where the Gulf Stream kisses the sands of the Carolinas. And she looked with wonder, as we all did, when the City’s great skyline slowly slid up out of the far horizon as we sailed for home.
But neither wooden ships nor people go on forever. Pier 15 finally tumbled into the East River and was removed. Black Pearl is laid up and drying out on the Connecticut River. The museum at South Street still lurches from one difficulty to the next; perhaps the biggest blow came from the events of September 11th. And that crazy, iconoclastic bunch of folks who gave that corner of the city its sparkle have moved on.
But Lisa’s bright smile is still there, dancing in our wake, at the horizon, now. She’s waving – and calling us to remember the times that were…
