As I walked the grey and drizzely streets of Lower Manhattan on Friday with a cup of hot chocolate to warm me up, I remembered that back in the summer I wanted to visit the New York City Police Museum which happens to be in the same area, but I wasn't exactly sure which block it was on. There was a tourist map posted on a few of the streets, but there was nothing that indicated that museum, only the Museum of the American Indian. Next the thought occured to me that of all people, a local cop should know where it is, so I went around looking for one. Instead of a cop, I turned down one block and saw some big sign on the side of the building mentioning a 9/11 exhibition. Walking closer towards the building I saw an old green police paddy-wagon parked out front, then I realized I had already found the museum.
Instead of some random building, the museum is an actual old police station, the first precinct. Walking inside there's a lady at the front desk with a heavy Irish accent, as if you couldn't get anymore cliché than that, who I paid the eight-dollar entrance fee to. She provided me with a map of the three floors worth of displays they have and I was on my way. The first area, near the gift shop, gives some background information of how the police department in New York City was formed in 1845 due to public outcry from a sensational murder which occured around that time. There's also a row of original badges and unforms worn throughout the years as well as firearms. What I would most humorous were these wooden handles cops used to carry around, and if they needed to call for backup, they would twirl the wooden gysmos around and it would make a loud clicking noise that I guess other cops would be able to hear blocks away. An old Bronx map from the 1800's showed how really the west part of the Bronx was known as High Bridge, and the eastern half wasn't considered part of the city at all, in fact it was originally part of Eastchester. There was also another interesting piece of historical fact, that before 911, people in NYC used to have to dial 440-1234 for emergencies. It wasn't until 1968 that 911 was installed nationwide due to sweeping spikes in crime and civil unrest in the turbulant times of the late 1960's with the Vietnam War, Civil Rights movement, bad economy(sound familar?).
The last stop on the first floor was a junior cadet room made for kids which had an emergency service unit truck you could go play in. There were also slides and other jungle-gym-type structures, but I was a tad too big for those unfortunately. The second floor is without a doubt the best floor of the three, as soon as you enter it you're in front of a jail cell you can go inside and experience. The accomodations include a metal toliet, bunk beds, sink, and a shiny piece of metal above the sink to serve as mirror. To the left of the jail room is the best attraction of the entire museum, and that's the weapon's room. Behind protective glass there's all sorts of weapons the police have confiscated throughtout their history from brass knuckles to knives, zip guns, derringers, baseball bats with spikes sticking out, handguns, tommy guns, shotguns, machine guns, and the pierre de-resistance, a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun fitted into a violin case. There were also a collection of the offical guns used by the police department over the years, but none of them could top the shotgun in the violin case. The room also contained an old slot machine from the prohibition era with a lineup of the most infamous gangsters of the time on the police watch list, including Vincent "Mad Dog" Coll, who came from the same neighborhood I did. He started a fued with the more infamous Dutch Shultz and was gunned down in a pharmacy phone booth.
The final item of interest before leaving the "cool" room, as I felt it should be called, was the introduction of the Bertillion System, which today are commonly known as mug-shots. A Frenchmen more than a hundred years ago came up with the concept of photographing and keeping a log of criminals on record. Looking at a wall of these old mug-shots I find it amazing how criminals back then were dressed so impeccably in suits that you would think they were headed to a business meeting or a wedding instead of a metal toilet. You bring in a criminal these days and they got a torn t-shirt with tattoos and either gold or missing teeth. Before upstairs I saw the special 9/11 feature exhibit which had been going on for the past few weeks, and the bulk of it focused on photographs taken by Associated Press photographers on that day and times after. There were also pieces of police equipment and police unforms that were pulled out of the wreckage during the clean up phase, and you could see items burned or damaged. I was surprised to see they had pieces of one of the actual planes itself that crashed into the Twin Towers, and the top part of the torn flag that everyone rallied around in the days after 9/11. While I was checking this area out, a museum employee(also with a cliché Irish accent) was showing these European photographers around the place. When they asked her of her opinion of the Occupy Wall Street protesters, she kindly referred to them as bums who should get a job.
Most the third floor of the museum also relates to 9/11 as it focused on fighting crime in the 21st Century with the advancements and tactics used to combat global terrorism. The last part of the third floor deals with police officers who were killed in the line of duty and has the badge of each of those cops up on the wall. I only names that came to my mind were the two cops that my junior-highschool was named after, and that was Piagentini and Jones. With hundreds and hundreds of badges on the wall, where and how were I going to find those? The badges didn't seem to be in any sort of year or alphabetical order. Not knowing where to start I just tilted my head to the left, and there they were, Joseph Piagentini and Waverly Jones. Back in 1971 they were gunned down by members of the Black Liberation Army, and the fact one officer was Caucasian and the other Afro-American, it was public relations the NYPD could promote to offset the racial tensions involved with police work. The room also contained a nice view through a window of the FDR drive and the Brooklyn Bridge. I took a few seconds to watch cars speed by on the dreary day. When I went back downstairs where I started, I did make the effort to visit the gift shop, but saw nothing of no great interest to me. The closest thing was a kid's size swat team uniform, but again unfortunately I was a tad too big for that.
I left the police museum and headed towards the subway, but in the back of my mind I kept thinking about the tourist map I saw which listed The Museum of the American Indian. It was on my way to the train station and there were a few more hours left in the afternoon, so I figured why not. The museum is actually run by the Smithsonian and is housed in the old U.S Customs Building. There's a similar museum run the Smithsonian as well located in Washington, D.C. There's no entrance fee to get in, but visitors are subjected to an airport-style screening. I flunked the metal detector the first time, but got through the second time after removing my sweater with metal zipper. Upon entering there's a great rotunda with a majestic ceiling, and from there everything else seems like its in the basement. There's plenty of artifacts, clothing, and art on display, but for some reason I was finding this museum very unengaging. Mostly everything was far off against the wall and there wasn't that same feeling of interaction that I usually get when visiting a museum. Maybe I was museumed out after just coming from the police museum, or perhaps after seeing the shotgun in the violin case, I would be difficult to impress any further for the rest of the day. I basically breezed my way through the place and ended up in the discovery section which delt with how Native Americans are impacting our society today. One of those ways is the strong presence of Native Americans in the field of ironworking, and I was able to take a picture with an ironworker who was on the quiet side.
Out of the two museums, I wouldn't have expected the slot machine to be in the police station...
Instead of some random building, the museum is an actual old police station, the first precinct. Walking inside there's a lady at the front desk with a heavy Irish accent, as if you couldn't get anymore cliché than that, who I paid the eight-dollar entrance fee to. She provided me with a map of the three floors worth of displays they have and I was on my way. The first area, near the gift shop, gives some background information of how the police department in New York City was formed in 1845 due to public outcry from a sensational murder which occured around that time. There's also a row of original badges and unforms worn throughout the years as well as firearms. What I would most humorous were these wooden handles cops used to carry around, and if they needed to call for backup, they would twirl the wooden gysmos around and it would make a loud clicking noise that I guess other cops would be able to hear blocks away. An old Bronx map from the 1800's showed how really the west part of the Bronx was known as High Bridge, and the eastern half wasn't considered part of the city at all, in fact it was originally part of Eastchester. There was also another interesting piece of historical fact, that before 911, people in NYC used to have to dial 440-1234 for emergencies. It wasn't until 1968 that 911 was installed nationwide due to sweeping spikes in crime and civil unrest in the turbulant times of the late 1960's with the Vietnam War, Civil Rights movement, bad economy(sound familar?).
The last stop on the first floor was a junior cadet room made for kids which had an emergency service unit truck you could go play in. There were also slides and other jungle-gym-type structures, but I was a tad too big for those unfortunately. The second floor is without a doubt the best floor of the three, as soon as you enter it you're in front of a jail cell you can go inside and experience. The accomodations include a metal toliet, bunk beds, sink, and a shiny piece of metal above the sink to serve as mirror. To the left of the jail room is the best attraction of the entire museum, and that's the weapon's room. Behind protective glass there's all sorts of weapons the police have confiscated throughtout their history from brass knuckles to knives, zip guns, derringers, baseball bats with spikes sticking out, handguns, tommy guns, shotguns, machine guns, and the pierre de-resistance, a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun fitted into a violin case. There were also a collection of the offical guns used by the police department over the years, but none of them could top the shotgun in the violin case. The room also contained an old slot machine from the prohibition era with a lineup of the most infamous gangsters of the time on the police watch list, including Vincent "Mad Dog" Coll, who came from the same neighborhood I did. He started a fued with the more infamous Dutch Shultz and was gunned down in a pharmacy phone booth.
The final item of interest before leaving the "cool" room, as I felt it should be called, was the introduction of the Bertillion System, which today are commonly known as mug-shots. A Frenchmen more than a hundred years ago came up with the concept of photographing and keeping a log of criminals on record. Looking at a wall of these old mug-shots I find it amazing how criminals back then were dressed so impeccably in suits that you would think they were headed to a business meeting or a wedding instead of a metal toilet. You bring in a criminal these days and they got a torn t-shirt with tattoos and either gold or missing teeth. Before upstairs I saw the special 9/11 feature exhibit which had been going on for the past few weeks, and the bulk of it focused on photographs taken by Associated Press photographers on that day and times after. There were also pieces of police equipment and police unforms that were pulled out of the wreckage during the clean up phase, and you could see items burned or damaged. I was surprised to see they had pieces of one of the actual planes itself that crashed into the Twin Towers, and the top part of the torn flag that everyone rallied around in the days after 9/11. While I was checking this area out, a museum employee(also with a cliché Irish accent) was showing these European photographers around the place. When they asked her of her opinion of the Occupy Wall Street protesters, she kindly referred to them as bums who should get a job.
Most the third floor of the museum also relates to 9/11 as it focused on fighting crime in the 21st Century with the advancements and tactics used to combat global terrorism. The last part of the third floor deals with police officers who were killed in the line of duty and has the badge of each of those cops up on the wall. I only names that came to my mind were the two cops that my junior-highschool was named after, and that was Piagentini and Jones. With hundreds and hundreds of badges on the wall, where and how were I going to find those? The badges didn't seem to be in any sort of year or alphabetical order. Not knowing where to start I just tilted my head to the left, and there they were, Joseph Piagentini and Waverly Jones. Back in 1971 they were gunned down by members of the Black Liberation Army, and the fact one officer was Caucasian and the other Afro-American, it was public relations the NYPD could promote to offset the racial tensions involved with police work. The room also contained a nice view through a window of the FDR drive and the Brooklyn Bridge. I took a few seconds to watch cars speed by on the dreary day. When I went back downstairs where I started, I did make the effort to visit the gift shop, but saw nothing of no great interest to me. The closest thing was a kid's size swat team uniform, but again unfortunately I was a tad too big for that.
I left the police museum and headed towards the subway, but in the back of my mind I kept thinking about the tourist map I saw which listed The Museum of the American Indian. It was on my way to the train station and there were a few more hours left in the afternoon, so I figured why not. The museum is actually run by the Smithsonian and is housed in the old U.S Customs Building. There's a similar museum run the Smithsonian as well located in Washington, D.C. There's no entrance fee to get in, but visitors are subjected to an airport-style screening. I flunked the metal detector the first time, but got through the second time after removing my sweater with metal zipper. Upon entering there's a great rotunda with a majestic ceiling, and from there everything else seems like its in the basement. There's plenty of artifacts, clothing, and art on display, but for some reason I was finding this museum very unengaging. Mostly everything was far off against the wall and there wasn't that same feeling of interaction that I usually get when visiting a museum. Maybe I was museumed out after just coming from the police museum, or perhaps after seeing the shotgun in the violin case, I would be difficult to impress any further for the rest of the day. I basically breezed my way through the place and ended up in the discovery section which delt with how Native Americans are impacting our society today. One of those ways is the strong presence of Native Americans in the field of ironworking, and I was able to take a picture with an ironworker who was on the quiet side.
Out of the two museums, I wouldn't have expected the slot machine to be in the police station...
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