Greater Astoria Historial Society 35-20 Broadway, 4th Floor | L.I.C., NY 11106 718.278.0700 | www.astorialic.org Gallery Hours: Mondays & Wednesdays 2-5 PM Saturdays 12-5 PM Exhibits ~ Lectures ~ Documentaries ~ Books Walking Tours ~ Historical Research Unique & Creative Content For more information visit us on the web at www.astorialic.org This image adapted from an invitation to the Long Island City Athletics 33rd Annual Masque Ball, 1909. 32 september 2015 i LIC COURIER i www.queenscourier.com ■LEGENDS “The Shattered Chandelier” When you think about it, there is a fascinating dimension about the urban environment in the chance interplay of people and things whose paths cross quite randomly. Think of a crowded subway car full of people thrown together by chance. Lives intersect, pass each other benignly without incident and, hardly noticed, are forgotten. But sometimes, this chance deals a wicked hand. Bodine Castle, profiled in our last “Legends” installment, introduced us to Ravenswood, a lost suburban enclave of mansions along the East River. It was built of granite, with towers and gates mimicking an impregnable fortress, and was, without a doubt, the most whimsical of the confections that lined the waterfront. A sparkling imported French chandelier, visible from the street, held court over the dining room. It spoke a world of power, prestige, and confidence. It was a world that was about to be literally, horrifically, shattered. Those grand mansions of Ravenswood were arrayed on a narrow strip of land off Vernon Boulevard, hemmed in on one side by the East River, and on the other, Sunswick Creek, a marsh that still floods the basements of those new high rises on 21st Street. Swamps then, as they are today, are often the dumping ground for all sorts of unpleasant things. At 43rd Avenue and 10th Street, some 500 yards from shore, Mr. French, agent for Hitchcock & Co., munitions manufacturers, rented a building, probably because of its isolated location. He recruited about 30 girls and a few boys between the ages of 10 and 18, all of them poor Irish and presumably from nearby Astoria, to fill and pack cartridges with gun powder. Some distance off was the powder magazine from which the children drew their supplies. The New York Tribune of Jan. 29, 1854 carried a long account of what happened. Because of the intense January cold, the children kept a belly stove hot in one corner of the little room. In some way a bit of the highly combustible powder came in contact with the stove and the whole works exploded with a roar that shook buildings and blew out windows for a mile around. It was audible as far away as Brooklyn. Over 50,000 cartridges exploded in the blast. About half the workforce, some 15 children were killed. The immediate area was strewn with the dead. It was said that the building, and those inside, were vaporized. Projectiles, shells and human flesh splattered the walls of Bodine Castle, passed through the panes of glass and shattered that expensive French chandelier. They say that meals were never again held in that dining hall. After the incident, it became the mansion’s library. The chandelier was never replaced. The catastrophe aroused a brief flurry of indignation in Ravenswood, but was soon forgotten. (Thank you to Vincent Seyfried) Next: “Death Knell for a Citadel”
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