Crazy Stable

Last entry, I posted a 1907 bird's-eye shot of Prospect Park South, and someone wondered about the source of the photo (which I grabbed off the web). Wow, glad you asked! First, here's a redo of the panorama, with Informative Labels By Me. Yes, that is a golf course between Stratford and Rugby Roads, south of the Parade Grounds; the march of development had already devoured the first hole, and the rest of the links weren't long for this world. CLICK THUMBNAIL FOR FULL-SIZED AWESOMENESS!

 Turns out, this is a rare New York shot by the ascended (literally) master of early aerial photography, George E. Lawrence (1868-1938). On the frustrating cusp of the era of aviation, this Illinois commercial photographer created crazy but effective contraptions to take panoramic pictures from the sky, including "captive airships" made of tethered kites and balloons. (He fell out of one such balloon, but then, he also experimented with flash charges for indoor photography and blew his child out a window. Both survived.) His daring extended to his personal life; the bounder ditched his first wife for his much-younger secretary.

Lawrence is most famous for his panorama of San Francisco lying in ruins after its great earthquake and fire. But he built a lucrative business photographing anything that called for a bird's-eye view. A glance at a gallery of his images evokes American values in the Teddy Roosevelt era. Bigger was better! He built the biggest camera in the world to capture a mighty steam engine, and shot political conventions, stockyards, factory floors, and military groups. But I'm particularly fond of his Big Crowds. Check out the sheer scale of the "Coliseum Gardens" somewhere, I think, in the Midwest:

Coliseum Gardens, 1905 (Geo R. Lawrence, Library of Congress)

 Can you imagine being a waiter in this place...or a dishwasher?

Banquets were another favorite subject; flocks of men in penguin suits paid Lawrence handsomely to record their festivities. This laugh-packed affair is a "party for Secretary Taft," and features, I believe, exotically costumed, long-suffering waiters (along with a centerpiece that redefines "farm-to-table eating"):

Secretary Taft's Party Dinner, 1906 (Geo R. Lawrence, Library of Congress)

Lawrence's services were expensive, and I wonder whether perhaps Dean Alvord, the developer of Prospect Park South, hired him to immortalize and promote the fabulous new development in Flatbush, which the Brooklyn Eagle termed "a rising colony of notables" in "a high class aristocratic suburb, the tone and character of which could not be disturbed or changed for a long period to come." (Job done!) I have found no information on what zany stunts were employed to capture the image, but I love the idea of the mustachio'd Mr. Lawrence, on a clear day more than a century ago, rigging up one of his "captive airships" over our sylvan streets.

It was our pleasure yesterday morning to offer refreshments to an intrepid Forgotten New York walking tour of Victorian Flatbush. The group had cookies and lemonade and heard a few tales to prime them for their exploration of the lush enclave a block away; I shared this reflection on life just outside a rock-star historic district.

Spouse and I tagged along for our umpteenth tour of our own neighborhood, because there's always something new to discover in Prospect Park South.  Newcomers always love the "Greek temple" houses, like this one on Buckingham Road...

...or this one, the raffish "Spider Web House"...

...with its Morticia Addams windows.

Here's two sweet details from Buckingham Road, a turret I've actually been inside (it's next to a top-floor ballroom in a shingle-style pile)... 

...and the exuberant palette of the famed Japanese house plus its maple foliage screen.

Several of these grande dames were having facelifts. One was stripping away siding to reveal decades-old shingles.

  This one had undergone a complete chemical peel. Some tour guests seemed surprised that Landmarks gets a say on what colors you can paint your house in a historic district. (We, on the other hand, could paint the Stable hot pink and neon green and no one could stop us. Hm, there's an idea.)

It was a four-hour ramble, too much to recount in one bite. Tomorrow: Flatbush tour, part II: Old ghosts and new gardens.