What’s your Rosebud? Which object defines your life? In researching my new book A History of New York in 101 Objects (this city can’t be captured in a mere 100), I looked for artifacts that were transformative, quirky, not too much bigger than a bread box, not human (that left out Ed Koch) and not all about food. (Given so many edible suggestions and declining crime, maybe the city’s motto should become “Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.”) My challenge was winnowing all the suggested objects down to 101. But this isn’t the list; it’s my list. It’s a portal to explore New York’s history. Let the parlor game begin!
It was Abe Lincoln’s audition in a city of Southern-sympathy, pro-cotton lobbyists and even talk of secession. His “right makes might” speech succeeded well enough to blunt Democratic margins in the city and deliver New York State to Lincoln that November.
When I first wrote about objects, I included a MetroCard instead of a token. Big mistake. Introduced in 1953 when the subway fare was raised to 15 cents, by the time they were phased out in 2003 they became a New York icon.
Queens calls itself The Forgotten Borough, but poor Staten Island. Woody Guthrie was in a Manhattan Hotel in 1944 when he struck its name from the second line of the lyrics of “This Land” and replaced it with New York. The ultimate dis.
The words of the prophets were written on the tenement halls, Paul Simon wrote, and before it became art, graffiti on this East Village door epitomized a city gone amok in the 1970s and ’80s. Removing it, like fixing broken windows and imposing the pooper-scooper law, helped restore the social contract.
It’s called the Anthora (a New York corruption of amphora, like Spaldeen is of Spalding), was designed by a Holocaust refugee long before Starbucks. As The New York Times wrote, “Law & Order” could scarcely have existed without it.
Sam Roberts has been a reporter, columnist and editor at The New York Times for 50 years.