Last Updated on December 11, 2024 by underanewsun
Twilight On The Staten Island Ferry
I like standing on the Staten Island Ferry’s deck. It’s my favorite way to get fresh air in New York. Between air conditioning, artificial heat and subway tunnels, you’re always in one cocoon or another.
On the ferry it’s just water, sky, wind and, you. The breeze cools summer’s soggy swelter. During winter, icy winds kiss colorful, crimson cheeks. The sound of churning water is pleasant year-round.
I’m not alone. Some people chat in Japanese, others flirt in Portuguese, joke in Turkish, tease in Spanish, whisper in Hindi. Now and then you’ll hear English, but the locals–they mostly stay inside the ferry, staring at books, staring at screens, staring at each other. I’m outside with the tourists.
The gangplank creaks and clangs when lifted and several chains rattle in response. Toooooooot! The ferry lurches forward, the motors get louder. Water gurgles, complaining about being displaced. Manhattan’s glass and steel slowly get smaller and smaller.
Click-Click-Click-Flash-Click-Flash. When we’re close enough to the Statue of Liberty, everyone’s camera is put to work. Everyone, of course, being the tourists.
Their green model never blinks, never smiles, and always keeps her arm raised– a true professional. Trip of a lifetime for many of the tourists; for locals it’s simply Tuesday.
Black smoke drifts off a distant vessel. It’s almost sunset. We’re close. Staten Island’s yellowish and white lights no longer resemble sparkling, broken glass on a sidewalk.
The ferry bumps and thumps to a stop at the St. George Terminal. The motors grunt gently. The water complains less and less.
Returning To Manhattan Aboard The Staten Island Ferry
Before September 11, 2001 you could remain on the ferry after arriving at the St. George Terminal. Now we perform the St. George four-step: abandon ship, enter the terminal, wait on line, re-board.
A fresh batch of seen-it-all-a-million-times New Yorkers take their seats inside. Meanwhile, the same tourists and I rendez-vous again on the deck.
A woman from Hawaii preps her camera beside me, pointing it at a bridge. She tells her friend she thinks it’s the Brooklyn Bridge, but I gently inform her that it is, in fact, the Verrazano Bridge. You know, the one from Saturday Night Fever.
The Verrazano’s lights twinkle, some almost imperceptibly. A light fog makes the bridge appear dream-like.
Perhaps each of its glints and flickers is a fleeting reincarnation of one of the millions of long-departed souls who passed through the Verrazano Narrows, the narrow neck separating the vast Atlantic Ocean and New York Harbor.
After passing through the Verrazano Narrows, the newly-arrived immigrants were in the home stretch. Just a few minutes from their new lives on our welcoming shores.
Forgotten were the stench of vomit in steerage, the tight shoes full of holes, the twisted, hungry stomachs, toothaches, crushing fear. Mere memories by the time they stepped onto either Manhattan or Ellis Island, depending on when their journey was made.
They stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the ship’s deck. One’s rough, scratchy wool coat scraping against everyone else’s rough, scratchy wool coats. None could hear the rough fibers grinding, though. Too busy pointing at Lady Liberty and discussing the new, fabulous city, or their new, fabulous city to be more precise.
It’s dusk and we’re making progress toward Manhattan. Far away a foghorn moans lustily into the darkening sky’s ear. Looking around New York Bay, I imagine Januarys and Februarys during the Colonial era (or earlier). And you think New York’s winters are cold now?
Back then, the Hudson River would freeze so completely that people walked between Manhattan and Staten Island. Yes, walked! As in, the route the Staten Island Ferry now traverses. Sometimes they’d walk right past vessels trapped by the ice.
As we pass by the Statue of Liberty again, I remember a story I was told by a friend. His great-grandfather had arrived from Europe months before his bride-to-be. She later arrived at Ellis Island, but was detained there for about a week.
His great-grandfather had two choices: wait patiently until immigration authorities released his betrothed or visit her daily by swimming from the New Jersey side to Ellis Island until the day of her release. Which did he choose? Ahhhh, love.
Swirling white foam and the city’s reflected lights are all I can see in the water. Manhattan’s buildings seem even larger than when we left. After working all day, they love showing off when night falls.
It’s an impressive sight, it really is. But…it’s not the same without the World Trade Center.
How do you explain the presence and magnitude of those towers to someone who never stood under them and looked upward toward eternity? Pride and unease simultaneously evoked by their otherworldly scale and presence.
Two enormous sentries guarding the entry to the New World. Or, more precisely, a new world to the newcomers. To everyone else, it’s just Tuesday.
(The Staten Island Ferry is free and works year-round, 24 hours-a-day.)
You May Also Be Interested In:
Our post on stained glass windows by Marc Chagall and Henri Matisse.
The official schedule for the Staten Island Ferry.
Our underground and street-level walking tour video through Midtown Manhattan, where we arrive at Grand Central Terminal and walk through subway tunnels, bus terminals, and city streets. Running time: 2 hours
Our Dreaming Over Ice video, featuring aerial views of a frozen Hudson River. Yes, the Hudson still gets very cold, but it used to get even colder! Running time: 5 minutes
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