The 92nd Street Ferryhouse (1920-1936)

December 18, 2024
by Theo Harrison

92nd Street Ferryhouse, 1920s. Courtesy of the New York Public Library Digital Archives

Manhattan is an island city. Its a funny thought, considering what’s left of the island to see.

There is rarely a visible shoreline to trace- the water pinches at bulkheads and slides under concrete freeways, burying any natural conclusion to the expanse. Tracing the shoreline on foot is even more difficult. A tour around the city’s waterfront is a series of interruptions, redirections, and detours. Stretches of public space are an inconsistent treasure, unequitably distributed accross the city. The waterfront poses a dilemma, where Manhattan’s great wealth of open space remains some of its most fractured and inaccessible.

Astoria Ferry Terminus- 90th Street Dock (Above)
East River Drive Triborough Bridge Marker  (Below)   It’s easy to forget this from afar. Seeing these fragments align as a single, crisp edge is unforgettable. As urban forms have come to be characterized by sprawl, there is an incredible physical power to the abruptness of Manhattan’s containment. 

From the upper deck of the Astoria Ferry, the city stands above the water like an oil rig. It seems more likely to have grown up from under the surface, or been lifted down from the sky.  The Astoria Ferry begins at Wall Street, climbing up the East River to its Northern terminus, a dock on E. 90th Street. Commuters disembark here onto a narrow boardwalk path sandwiched between the East River and FDR Drive. 
A few paces up from the ferry dock, a peculiar stone monolith sits on the grass with its back turned. It's rather morose looking, like a large tombstone. It is blank on the three sides facing the water, with an inscription only visible to drivers on the parkway:  “EAST RIVER DRIVE. TRIBOROUGH BRIDGE APPROACH”.  The marker memorializes a birth and a death: it sits on the bones of the original Northern terminus to the Astoria Ferry, the Old 92nd Street Ferryhouse, demolished nearly 100 years ago. 

In 1936, the Astoria Ferry was named the Rockaway, and it ran every 20 minutes across the river. A round trip cost 5 cents.  On July 15th of that year, Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia gave Rockaway commuters 60 days to find other means of transportation. He had agreed to turn over the land to the Triborough Bridge Authority to develop a parkway. The Mayor didn’t have much of a choice. Just four days earlier, he watched a miracle occur upriver.   

Alongside President Roosevelt and Robert Moses, LaGuardia presided over the first parade of vehicles passing over the Triborough Bridge. The Triborough Project was actually four bridges, connecting Manhattan, the Bronx and Queens. It’s difficult to express the scale of the project by any comparison, it is less a bridge and more a colossal traffic machine, on top of an unbelievable feat of human coordination. Its construction commanded 31 million hours of labor, and enough steel cabling to wrap the world twice. Consider as well that this was achieved in the depths of the depression- an extraordinary affirmation of the government as a solution-provider. 

Mayor LaGuardia’s reputation as an effective public official had never been more secure, and it was fastened tightly to that of Moses.  Moses was unparalelled in his ability to deliver projects. But that which made Moses indispensable made him loyal to no one, including LaGuardia. When the Mayor asked Moses to allow the Rockaway ferry service 60 days, Moses decided to fastrack construction for the bridge’s approach himself.

July 11th, 1936. Opening Day of the Triborough Bridge
Triborough Bridge & Tunnel Authority Archive. (Right)

 

New York Times’ coverage of the repair of the Ferryhouse

On the afternoon of July 21st, the unwitting Rockaway pulled away from the 92nd Street Ferryhouse for another round trip. In its empty slip, two barges attached themselves to the dock. One contained a pile driver; the other, a wrecking crane. To the amazement of anyone in eyeshot, contractors began to destroy the active dock, effectively stranding hundreds of commuters with no way to return home across the river. On the other side of the Ferryhouse, a group of workmen plucked away at the cobblestones, severing the building from the street.

LaGuardia’s first solution was to offer Moses a shortening of the 60-day waiting period. Moses refused to call off the work. LaGuardia was familiar with Moses’ tactics. Nevertheless, the mayor lost his shit. LaGuardia ordered a squad of policemen to the Ferryhouse. Even after they arrived, contractors continued to demolish the building. Moses had amassed so much power as head of the Bridge Authority, the prospect of disloyalty was more threatening than the police about to enter the job site. LaGuardia realized the contractors wouldn’t quit, and ordered the policemen to seize the Ferry House. Contractors were dragged out of the building with tools in their hands. 


A new fleet of workers labored through the night to repair the building. By the morning, the Rockaway resumed service. But the victory was short-lived: just 14 days later, as the story slipped from headlines, LaGuardia quietly handed over the land to Moses. An accordion soundtracked the Rockaway’s final crossing, with commuters singing the song “Where Do We Go From Here?”. As the boat sailed away to be laid up, it sounded out three farewell whistles, hardly audible from the shore. Moses’ barges had returned, pummeling the dock once again. 

The Astoria ferry was resurrected in 2017, as part of a broader government push to reconnect the waterfront. You could still accuse the ferry service of coasting on goodwill- it operates at a deficit, largely subsidized by city taxpayers. But so far, likeability seems to have prevailed. The Astoria Ferry serves the East River once again, not far from a marker beside the parkway, in safety orange, that tells drivers to expect delays ahead.   

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