Ever had a museum unexpectedly surprise
and delight you? Energize you, and make
you think about mundane daily tasks differently? Former Reach Advisors summer research
associate, guest blogger, and self-proclaimed “New York Culture Vulture” Alison
Buchbinder had that experience recently, and we loved her “review” of the New
York Transit Museum so much, we had to share.
Like
most New Yorkers, I take the subway everyday and I take it for granted. Unless
the train is running slowly, I never stop to think about how the subway runs,
how it was built, or even how Metrocard revenue is collected and counted. Until
my recent visit to the New York Transit Museum.
To enter the museum, visitors (appropriately) descend down the stairs of a
decommissioned subway station. A friendly staff member sells tickets from a
historic ticket booth, with its beautifully varnished, turned wood bars. The
museum's first gallery is a passage with a low burlap cloth ceiling, evoking
the feeling of being in an early, unfinished subway tunnel, but papered in
historic images of subway construction and newspapers clips. I was surprised to
learn that the subway began as a private enterprise and was not a civic amenity
until well into the 20th century.
One of my favorite displays in the museum illustrated the evolution of the
subway's fare system, from paper tickets to tokens to today's Metrocards. The
best part were the examples of fake tokens that people had passed off as the
real thing, including a quarter that someone had taken the pains to punch a
"Y" out the middle of, just like a real token from the '70s. The board
of fakes perfectly illustrated a conversation my friend and I had on our way to
the museum. As he tells it, there was a coin in Costa Rica that was the exact
size, shape, and weight as the MTA subway token. Illegal vendors on the street
would sell a bag of the coins for a few dollars to fare evaders. Still, even
the modern Metrocard experienced evasion kinks, as someone discovered if you
creased the magnetic strip just so, the computers in the turnstiles would think
a valueless card still had enough value on it for a ride.
In the same gallery are old station turnstiles. The first turnstiles had heavy
wooden arms and were operated by an attendant who pushed a footlever, which
allowed a passenger to turn the arm and enter the station. It's a far cry from
the sleek, polished stainless steel, computer operated turnstiles the MTA uses
today. We even learned why the sides of the today's turnstile are slanted and the
barred passage is so narrow: the slanted slides keep people from getting a
purchase on top, so they can't jump over the arm, and the narrow entrance
dissuades people from crouching and going underneath the arm. Given that
challenge and the opportunity (we wouldn't be arrested for fare evasion in the
museum), we took turns sneaking through the turnstile. We also tested the other
historic turnstiles and loved that the museum allowed us to interact with and
touch the artifacts (after withstanding millions of people year after year,
what's a few thousand more at the museum?).
The lowest level of the museum is the decommissioned station's platform, where subway
cars dating from 1904 to the present are lined up on the downtown and uptown
tracks. Interesting fact: subway cars were wooden until an accident shattered
one and killed 93 people in 1918. After
that, cars were made of metal. Another interesting fact: subway revenue used to
be collected at the stations at night and then taken by specially guarded
subway cars on dedicated tracks to a carefully concealed money room in Brooklyn
(since 2006, it's taken by armored car to Queens).
The subway cars are open and people are free to wander in and out, sit on the
seats, and hang on the straps. In the cars, we spent a lot of time looking at
the old maps--graphic design has come a long way--and the old advertisements,
which have been around since the very beginning. As we were traveling back to
Park Slope, we looked around at the ads in our car and realized that the ads
have evolved a lot. There are fewer of them and they're longer and horizontally
oriented. Even up until the 1970s, there were more and they were smaller, with
a more vertical orientation. Today’s ads push services, promote tourist
destinations, or are sponsored by the MTA to make you feel good about the
transit authority. The historic ads sold goods, not experiences.
I really can't gush about the museum enough because I left so energized. I love
when I go to a museum and it dynamically teaches me about a segment of the
world I interact with everyday. I love that the museum allowed me to explore
and touch the artifacts - large-scale artifacts that are also, by the way, incredibly sticky for young children. And I loved that my experience interacting with the
museum objects was informed by and now informs how I relate to my everyday
environment.
Have
you ever had a museum surprise, and energize, you? Simply click on “comments” below to
share your thoughts (and if you are reading this from your e-mail subscription, go to our blog to
comment).