THE STORY OF MANHATTANKIND
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He was impressed particularly by the dancing craze and by the utterly shocking styles in women’s clothes
THE early history of New York is obscured in myth; and to separate the purely historical from the purely hysterical is no easy task. But it is a task worth while; for it is impossible to understand the life of Manhattan to-day until we get a glimpse of the great figures, from Peter Minuit down to Ralph Easly, who were forever pointing out that, but for them, the island would be in the hands of the Reds.
Who the Reds were no one knows. No one ever did know: for as soon as you get acquainted with any one, he ceases to be Red. New York is said to be a Red Stronghold still, because there are so many people in town who don’t know each other.
“They’re nothing but a lot of wild Indians,” Mr. Christopher Columbus remarked, the first time he attended one of their open-air meetings; and the conservative element has generally adopted this view. There are those who contend that Columbus never visited New York, but this is absurd. No one ever comes to America without visiting New York; and the stories Columbus carried back to Spain describe Manhattan perfectly. He was impressed particularly by the dancing craze, and by the utterly shocking styles in women’s clothes. Also, he noted, the inhabitants generally spoke with a foreign accent: and they made a big fuss whenever a distinguished foreigner arrived.
It was Bargain Day in Manhattan when Peter Minuit came across. He came across with $24, which was a lot of money for humble Americans to take away from a distinguished foreigner.
“This city is over-run by Jews,” he remarked, shortly after the transaction. This is one of the most frequently quoted remarks in all history.
The next distinguished foreigner to arrive was the Duke of York. He was given the Freedom of the City and he took it home with him. The early accounts say that he also took the city. But he didn’t pay anything for it. He had it charged.
“Ain’t my name good?” he wanted to know. Evidently it was, for it stuck, I don’t mean that the city was stuck on the name, but the name was stuck on the city. The caption “New Amsterdam,” he pointed out, would never get by the censors.
The Dukes were like that. When they wanted to stick their name on anything, nothing on earth could stop them. According to one of the ancient legends, a certain Duke insisted that “Trinity College” be called “Duke University”; and the directors unanimously decided to make the change. The story is of course legendary, but well illustrates how “New York” came to get its ridiculous name.
The next great figure in the early legends of New York is that of Jonef Hylan. Hylan, in all probability, was not a real person; but it is impassible to understand New York without giving careful study to the Hylan myth. In many respects, it resembles the Sun Myth of other great civilizations: for his head was as a head of flame, and he rose early each morning from beyond the East River, bringing light into all the dark places and heat into the sessions of the Board of Estimate. The populace called their Sun God “Red Mike”; but in the frenzy of their devotions, they simply yelled “Ra! Ra!”
Hylan was the great Champion of the People versus the Interests. The Interests were not people. They were great, greedy, gosh-awful ghouls who subsisted on the life-blood which they sucked from the people’s veins. But you couldn’t tell them apart—that is, nobody but the Champion could—for the Interests all tried to look like people and the People all tried to look like Interests.
According to tradition, the Interests once took Hylan into a high mountain and tempted him, spreading the whole city at his feet.
“It’s a fair city,” said the Interests.
“It’s a five-cent fare city,” Hylan answered.
“Don’t you believe in having your income increased?” they asked,
“Get thee behind me, Satan!” he said.
But Satan, it seems, got behind the Interests. So William R. Hearst got behind Hylan and that evened things up. Satan was somewhat shrewder than Hearst, but Hearst was noisier than the devil.—Sawdust
