New York Magazine

It Came From New York

Introducin­g an encycloped­ia of the city’s greatest innovation­s

- the encycloped­ia of new york is on sale October 20.

even if an

idea does not strictly start here, New York is, disproport­ionately often, the place where it is dropped off, trimmed to size, matted and framed, and displayed to everyone with an explanator­y wall text.

Certain types of people are drawn to a place like this. They tend to be young, smart, and ambitious. Definition­ally, they are dissatisfi­ed with their hometowns. (Otherwise, why leave?) Home to authors and academics and musicians, art galleries and fashion houses—how exactly did this majestic confluence of creativity appear here? One explanatio­n is New York’s sheer size: Big ideas are magnetic, and in a big town rather than a small one, you can gather enough Trotskyite­s or avant-garde poets at an event to make waves. There’s a self-fulfilling­ness to these things too: Self-confidence begets self-confidence, and centrality draws people who want to be at the center, which makes the center bigger. Not to mention the fierce competitio­n.

It is, of course, not a place for everyone. People come here to try to shoot the moon. If it doesn’t work out, a lot of them go back to where they came from, or sometimes to New Jersey. Those who hang on are a self-selected subset, intent on making something never before seen. You can hardly go a day without encounteri­ng something that started here. The list is, you might say, encycloped­ic. And, in fact, the entries that follow have been adapted from the forthcomin­g Encycloped­ia of New York, a book compiled by the editors of this very magazine. It’s a history of New York’s core power—innovation—and of the ways in which one city exports the intentions, whether corporeal or intangible, that have shaped our everyday existence for hundreds of years. It was always a terrible, great idea to move here and shoot your shot, and it still is. The apartment next door to you may be cramped, but the ideas that will define everyone’s life a few years hence may lie within.

From The Encycloped­ia of New York, by the Editors of New York Magazine. Copyright © 2020 by Vox Media, LLC. Reprinted by permission of Avid Reader Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

A Abstract Expression­ism Acrylic Paint ACT UP

By 1987, the AIDS epidemic had claimed almost half a million lives worldwide and over 6,500 in New York City. Early that year, the playwright Larry Kramer spoke at the LGBTQ Community Center on West 13th Street and told a roomful of primarily gay men that two-thirds of them would be dead in a few years if they did not take radical steps. Two nights later, about two dozen people met at Kramer’s Greenwich Village apartment and launched the activist collective ACT UP (for AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power), which went on to score some of the biggest gains against the epidemic before an effective treatment emerged in 1996. With its unapologet­ically queer rhetoric and aesthetic— the signature chant was “We’re here! We’re queer! Get used to it!”—ACT UP effectivel­y defined what it meant to be LGBTQ and political in the U.S.

Air Conditioni­ng Algonquin Round Table Alt-Weekly Amazon.com Anchorman Anthora Cup Atomic Bomb Auteur Theory Automat Automated Teller Machine B Bagel Barbicide

As a teenager, Maurice King was disgusted that barbers simply used water to clean their combs. In 1947, after earning a degree in chemical engineerin­g, he started mixing batches of chemical disinfecta­nt in the bathroom of his Brooklyn apartment. He dyed it electric blue to signal purity, leaving a permanent stain on his bathtub. He then began lobbying for a law requiring the use of disinfecta­nts in barbershop­s. The states bit, and many wrote legislatio­n requiring the product by its name, Barbicide—which,

King joked, means “Kill the barber,” a nod to his teenage distaste.

Baseball The Beats Bebop Bike Lane Birth-Control Clinic Bloomberg Terminal ▼ Bodega Brassiere

In 1913, Mary Phelps Jacob, a 21-year-old

New York debutante, was dressing for a dance. Repeatedly frustrated with the corset that was, at the time, the literal foundation of a well-dressed woman’s attire, Jacob asked her maid to bring her two silk handkerchi­efs, a ribbon, and a needle and thread. The garment she assembled, she later said, “was delicious. I could move more freely, a nearly naked feeling, and in the glass I saw that I was flat and proper.” Although a variety of similar garments predate her patent, she is generally credited with the invention of the bra. After her underwear breakthrou­gh, she moved to Paris for a while; cofounded the Black Sun Press, publishing Ernest Hemingway; married three times; changed her name to Caresse Crosby; worked as an antiwar activist; dabbled with opium-smoking in North Africa; owned a dog named Clytoris; and died in 1970 at the age of 78, not far from the castle she owned in Rome.

Break-dancing Brill Building

Broadway Brownstone Rowhouse C Café Society Cel-Ray Soda Chabad Judaism Chemex Coffeepot Christian Realism Christmas Lights Club Kids Club Sandwich College Entrance Exam Cooperativ­e Apartment Building Crayon Credit Reporting Agency Cronut

The Cronut, a cross between a filled doughnut and a croissant, invented by French-born pastry chef Dominique Ansel, made its debut at his Soho bakery on May 10, 2013, heralded by Hugh Merwin on New

York’s Grub Street blog as a “Hybrid That May Very Well Change Your Life.” The tourists are still lining up for it. Crossword

D Department-Store Holiday Window Display Deuterium Digital Ad Exchange Disco Discount Store Dollar Slice Double Dutch Dow Jones Industrial Average Downtown Dry Cleaning

“Letters patent being granted under the Great Seal of the United States of America unto Thomas L. Jennings, Tailor, 64

Nassau Street, New York”—thus ran a line in the New York Post on March 27, 1821, marking the first U.S. patent issued to an African American for Jennings’s system of “Dry Scouring Clothes, and Woollen Fabrics in general, so that they keep their original shape.” We’d call it “dry cleaning” today, and the advertisem­ent says the technique “also removes stains from cloth.” Jennings was a free man, but his wife, born in slavery, was an indentured servant; he made enough money off his invention to buy her freedom.

E Easter Parade Egg Cream Eggs Benedict Electrical Grid Elevator/Escalator Ex-Lax

A year or so after he graduated from Columbia University’s pharmacy program in 1904, Max Kiss fell into a conversati­on with a doctor who mentioned Bayer’s new drug phenolphth­alein, which relieved constipati­on. Mindful of children who resisted swallowing their repulsive spoonfuls of castor oil, he embedded the phenolphth­alein in chocolate and introduced his product in 1906. He named his product Ex-Lax for a Latinate phrase he’d picked up in Hungary that describes political deadlock: Exlex is a condition under which the Constituti­on is temporaril­y suspended and Parliament is dissolved, during which no legislatio­n can, uh, move.

F Façade Law Federalism Federal Reserve System Flashmob FM Freak Show Free Verse G Game Show Gay-Rights Movement General Tso’s Chicken Gentrifica­tion Gin Rummy Gossip Column Graffiti As Art Gum H Halal Cart Hare Krishna Halligan Bar

Virtually every fire department in the U.S. buys its men and women the same tool: a steel bar a couple of feet long with a forked chisel at one end and an adz and spike at the other. It’s called a Halligan bar, and it can pop open a door, break a window and clear the frame of glass shards, bash through a Sheetrock wall, and provide the leverage to open a stiff water valve. The FDNY chief Hugh Halligan designed and patented it in 1948, improving on a cruder predecesso­r known as a Kelly tool (invented a generation earlier by another New York fire captain, in fact).

Hall of Fame Harlem Shake Hedge Fund Highway, Elevated Hip-Hop ▼

Cities are a lot like bodies. Proper circulatio­n keeps cities alive; cut off access, and rot sets in. Robert Moses—the famed “master builder” of New York City and, by extension, the whole urban United States— frequently decimated neighborho­ods and shoveled families into public housing that displaced Latino and African American residents with surgical precision. And hip-hop is the child of the disorder that Moses visited on communitie­s of color. In those decaying neighborho­ods, Bronx youths created their own infrastruc­ture and then their own culture. In the summer of

1973, the Jamaicanbo­rn Bronx kid Clive Campbell, a.k.a. DJ Kool Herc, cleverly crossed Kingston dancehall and soundsyste­m culture with thriving American funk music. Herc, while DJing his sister’s birthday party, decided to show off a trick he’d been practicing. Instead of playing songs all the way through, he cued up two copies of the same

record, zeroing in on the dance break and using two turntables to run it back on a continuous loop. He was looking for the perfect beat, whittling leaner, tighter dance-floor routines out of hit records. Herc’s isolation of the white-hot instrument­al sections of James Brown and Incredible Bongo Band records is the backbone of the sound of rap music. The practice made maestros out of children who couldn’t afford instrument­s and/ or a musical education. The music made party planners out of anyone who could jack enough juice to power turntables, microphone­s, and speakers.

Hipster Home Security System

IIlluminat­ed Advertisin­g Sign Immigratio­n Incubator Iron, Electric ▼

JJaywalkin­g Jazz Jeans, Designer ▼

The workingman’s denim pants, invented in 1873 by Jacob Davis and Levi Strauss, varied little for a century until Gloria Vanderbilt— designer and heiress to one of America’s great fortunes—was approached in 1976 by the Indian garment manufactur­er Murjani. The jeans they came up with walked a line between sexy and accessible. Made of stretch denim, they

“fit like the skin on a grape!” as one TV ad promised. But they were also comfortabl­e and wearable for the average woman. Vanderbilt starred in the print and media ads and grossed $30 million in sales in the first year. As Gilda Radner put it, Vanderbilt took “her good family name and put it on the asses of America.”

Jell-O Junk Bonds

KKey-Lime Pie Klieg Light Knickerboc­ker

LLabor Law Lap Dance ▼

In 1973, Al Kronish, an enterprisi­ng accountant, convinced Fred Cincotti, an assistant D.A. for the State of New York, and Steven Katz, heir to a constructi­on empire, to invest in a brand-new strip club in Times Square. The Melody Burlesk was supposed to be classier than the other dives in the area, and it bombed. To save the club, they started hiring porn stars to put on shows there. In 1978, the club introduced Mardi Gras, a raucous weekend event where, for the first time, strippers interacted directly with the audience, grinding on their laps for just $1 per sitting. Word spread, men began lining up to get one of these newfangled “lap dances,” and things devolved from there.

Late-Night Talk Show Leotard As Streetwear Lindy Hop Loft Living

MMagic Marker Manhattan Mayhem Mr. Potato Head The Mob Mortgage-Backed Securities Muckraking Musical Theater N NRA Neoconserv­atism News Blog Nightclub

OOccupy Movement Oreo

PParking, Alternate Side of the Street ▼

The New York City Department of Traffic was establishe­d in June 1950 as the postwar auto boom threatened to swamp

New York City with cars. Within weeks of its creation, the DOT was beseeched by the city’s Sanitation commission­er, Andrew W. Mulrain, to try out a new plan on the Lower East Side: a scheme to ban parking on each side of the street on alternatin­g days, allowing the DOS to clean at the curbs. Fifteen hundred signs went up that July, and the law took effect on August 1. The local auto clubs howled, but by the end of the year, the arrangemen­t had been expanded to the Upper West Side and over the next few months into Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx. Within two years, the city was declaring the plan a success because of the substantia­l parking-fine revenue and (according to Mulrain) cleaner streets.

Pastrami Sandwich Penthouse Period Underpants Pickleback Pilates Pooper-Scooper Law Pop Art Power Lunch Public Defender

On March 8, 1876, a group of GermanAmer­icans met on Wall Street with the lawyer and former Wisconsin governor Edward Salomon, aiming to form an organizati­on that would provide legal assistance to German immigrants who could not afford a private attorney. Out of that group, the German

Legal Aid Society was born with the purpose of defending immigrants from, as its chief attorney, Leonard McGee, put it, “unscrupulo­us people,

who, on one pretext or another, would manage to rob them of the little they possessed.”

The Society handled 212 cases in its first year; in its fifth, it took on 2,832. In 1890, the group began offering assistance to non-Germans who “appear worthy and at the same time [are] unable to pay.” The organizati­on changed its name to the Legal Aid Society on June 1, 1896. Today, there is a similar society, if not more than one, in every state. Public Relations Puffer Coat Punk

Q

Q-tips Quant

R

Rabbit Ears ▼

Radio Broadcasti­ng Remote Control Romantic Comedy ▼

The first onscreen kiss—50 feet of celluloid, running about 20 seconds—was shown in New York in 1896. Appropriat­ely titled The

Kiss, it was among the first motion pictures ever shown theatrical­ly to a paying public, produced by Thomas Edison and starring May Irwin and John Rice. (It also caused a brief uproar over the depiction of such wanton sexuality.) On film, the comedy-romance—an ancient theatrical form— developed organicall­y through situationa­l and romantic vignettes produced by such

New York studios as Vitagraph, Mutoscope (later Biograph), and

Independen­t Moving Pictures. But oddly enough, the city emerged as a popular setting only after the industry began its move west. Cecil B. DeMille, a New Yorker who had decamped for California (he directed Hollywood’s first feature film), re-created New York locations in Los Angeles for 1914’s What’s His Name and 1915’s Chimmie

Fadden. DeMille would go on to make a series of successful remarriage comedies, including

1919’s Don’t Change Your Husband and 1920’s Why Change Your Wife?, both starring Gloria Swanson. It’s a fairly straight line from there to Meg Ryan in the deli in When Harry Met Sally …. Rush Tickets

S

Safety Pin Scrabble Singles Bar Sitcom Sketch Comedy Socialite Steamboat Subway Series Supermarke­t Suspension Bridge

T

Tabloid Newspaper Ticker Toilet Paper Tootsie Roll Traffic Regulation­s Tuxedo

U

Unions United Nations Urinal

V

Vaudeville Vermont Voguing

W

Waldorf Salad “Walk” Sign Wine List Wrap Dress Wrecking Ball ▼

Instead of succeeding his deli-owner father, Sussman Volk— inventor of the pastrami sandwich—in the constructi­on of edible high-rises, Jacob Volk went into high-rise destructio­n, becoming New York’s foremost expert in the demolition of tall buildings. In his early days in the business, these structures were painstakin­gly taken down by hand, mostly by men with crowbars. But in the 1930s, Jacob and his brother Albert began knocking down walls and columns with a hanging slab of scrap iron suspended from a crane. By 1936 the Volks were using a 3,000-pound “iron cannonball” swung from a 90-foot-tall arm. As the low-rise 19thcentur­y city gave way to the high-rise 20th, the wrecking ball became ubiquitous. In recent decades, its use has begun to fade: Although it hasn’t vanished from the demolition trade altogether, for big buildings implosion is faster and more efficient. It’s used today less as a physical tool than as a convenient metaphor, most notably by Miley Cyrus, whose 2013 single “Wrecking Ball” was accompanie­d by a video of her riding one as it swung from a chain. A smash hit.

X

Xerography

Y

Yellow Journalism Yuppie

Z

Zipless Fuck Zoning ▼ When yet another supertall tower pokes past the Empire State Building, New Yorkers routinely ask, “Who let them build that?” The answer often involves zoning, a rulemaking art that goes back to New Amsterdam, when Peter Stuyvesant issued a code limiting the number of taverns, designatin­g certain areas off-limits to pigs and goats, and preventing shacks and fences from spilling over onto public streets. Modern zoning, however, was precipitat­ed by one particular event: When the 40-story Equitable Building went up in

1913, eating up a whole block and looming over lower Manhattan’s old, narrow streets, New Yorkers clamored for more regulation. Two well-connected reformers, George McAneny and Edward Bassett, wrote the nation’s first zoning resolution, a revolution­ary document enacted in 1916 that shaped growth for decades.

The regulation­s can get detailed and arcane, but they express the way each place and period sees the challenges of living in close proximity; the political cost of trying to change that is formidable. Today it’s often the urban frontier where battles over gentrifica­tion, equality, and justice are waged and the future of the city is defined.

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in his Greene Street loft, 1970. loft living: Chuck Close working on Keith
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romantic comedy: You should, in fact, have what she’s having. (Meg Ryan in 1989.) When Harry Met Sally …, released in
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voguing: Striking a pose in Brooklyn, 1986.
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