Images of a Notorious Street
In the winter of 1974, I began photographing the Bowery for the first time: photographs of homeless men seeking protection from the cold in the entrances of buildings or sleeping on sidewalks in spite of the cold, surrounded by garbage. I was shocked by the indifference and callousness of passers-by and business people on the Bowery as they literally stumbled over these people, watching without interfering as a young thug swiftly combed through the pockets of the sleeping men. I could not understand how in a rich country like the United States, these stranded, broken, hopelessly alcohol-addicted people had to take refuge in a street where they were left more or less to their own fate.
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I made it my goal to explore the phenomenon Bowery photographically, and obtained the permission to photograph in the Bowery’s institutions like the municipal shelter for the homeless, the Salvation Army, withdrawal clinics, religious missions, and other social institutions.
In the course of months and during my countless walks through the Bowery, I discovered that this street was not only a refuge for alcoholics and other homeless men, but that many elements had harmoniously existed here side by side for decades: the “bums,” as the homeless are disdainfully called, next to a broad variety of stores, theatres, jazz and rock clubs, painters, sculptors, and writers. More and more I was convinced that it would be wrong to document the Bowery solely in the context of homelessness, that I would just propagate the stereotype that the Bowery is solely a street of alcoholics. Thus, I changed my concept and began to capture all aspects of this street.
I am grateful to the directors of the social institutions, theatre directors, artists, and all the other people living on the Bowery who supported my project with infinite patience and great understanding for many years. The greatest thanks of all, however, is due to those who were stranded, many of whom, as I found out later, are no longer alive. They faced the camera unhesitatingly, sometimes for a dime, sometimes because they respected my work or because they appreciated that there was a person who listened to them if just for an instant. Like the man who called himself “Big Jim” who said to me: “Do you know what loneliness is? Loneliness, that’s me. I am the loneliest person in the world. I am a ‘bum’.” I apologize to those homeless men whom I have photographed without their consent. They were human beings who vegetated in the street, ragged and beaten bloody. They too are owed my thanks.
Homeless on the Street
Institutions
Architecture
Artists
Business
Nightlife
The Bowery Has Seen Good And Bad Times
Essay by Henry Marx for the 1982/83 Museum of the City of New York Exhibition: A Photographic Documentation by Carin Drechsler-Marx
Perhaps no other street in any city has had such a checkered life as did New York’s one-mile long Bowery. Its configuration and name go back to the early days of the city’s history: because leading to Governor Peter Stuyvesant’s large “Bouwerie” – the Dutch word for farm – it got its original name, Bouwerie Lane. Its other great moment in history came in 1783, when General George Washington stopped at the Bull’s Head Tavern, corner Canal Street, for a drink or two before proceeding to the Battery to watch British troops evacuate New York City, which they had occupied for seven years.
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Once the hard times following the war had been overcome, New York and the Bowery developed fast. In the last decade of the 18th century Manhattan almost doubled its population to more than 60,000. And with that growth, the lower part of the Bowery became New York’s most elegant street. Fashionable stores abounded, the rich had their mansions built there, visitors to New York flocked to its new hotels and some very spectacular theatres came into being (the Bowery Theatre, with 3,000 seats the largest in the country, was described as “a very handsome building, unsurpassed in point of decoration”). The Bowery became the street to go to for good entertainment and excellent food.
A slow, but perceptible decline began in the 1830’s, coinciding with the first wave of mass immigration. Many of these poor newcomers settled in the cheap, shoddy tenements which were hastily erected on the Bowery’s side streets, causing the gentry to move further uptown. In time the hotels became flop houses, the mansions brothels. Yet theatrical activity continued to flourish and during the second half of the 19th century, several German theatres existed there: The Stadttheater (No. 37-39), the Neue Stadttheater (No. 43-47), and the Thalia Theatre (No. 40-44, the former Bowery Theatre). Germans in large numbers would also patronize the Atlantic Garden (No. 50), one of the most magnificent beer restaurants ever built in New York.
The inexorable push uptown was undoubtedly hastened by the construction of the “El” in the early seventies. It spanned the whole width of the Bowery, including the sidewalks: after that and until it came down after World War II, barely a ray of sun would ever pierce the streets below, and the lack of light was made even worse by the black smoke of the coal-burning “El” locomotives. Small wonder then that the Bowery became the favorite hangout for the unemployed, asocial elements and alcoholics who could still their unquenchable thirst in the many cellar dives then springing up. Of the 99 places of entertainment, which still existed on the Bowery in 1898, only fourteen were classified as “respectable” by the police; among the total there were at least 80 bars, or six to each of the 15 Bowery blocks, according to Herbert Ashbury who, in his book “The Gangs of New York,” has given us one of the most graphic descriptions of the declining Bowery.
As early as 1872 the first mission opened its doors on the Bowery, initially more concerned with caring for homeless children than for grown-up drifters. In 1877 the still existing Bowery Mission began operations, followed by the Salvation Army and other institutions. With the constant increase in the derelict population on the Bowery, they changed their focus, and for many decades they have tried almost exclusively to assist the “winos” and “bums.” These were passive, non-aggressive people; to them, alcohol did not serve to join them together, it was rather a means to fulfill their craving for personal isolation. Perhaps nowhere but on the Bowery can one find so many alienated, lonely men.
For the earlier part of the century no reliable figures as to the number of alcoholics on the Bowery are available. But a count made in 1949 netted 14,000 such men as day and night residents of the Bowery. Since then there has been a fairly steady decline; perhaps only 4,000 to 5,000 of them are now left. But with the emptying of the mental hospitals of New York State, beginning in the late sixties (their inmates were reduced from 80,000 to 20,000), many of these patients with little or none of the prescribed aftercare landed on the Bowery. Its floating population has also been augmented by a good number of younger unemployed people as well as drug addicts, forcing many of the old Bowery habitués to other parts of the city. The Bowery lodging houses, their number reduced to twelve from more than 30 in the late forties, nowadays provide only app. 3,000 “beds.” Each night the city carts homeless Bowery men to its facilities on Ward Island in the East River and on weekends to Camp LaGuardia in Westchester from where they are brought back to their old haunts in the morning.
But with this development the story of the Bowery fortunately does not end. For in recent years almost a Renaissance has set in. Businesses always existed on the Bowery: jewelry, lamp and restaurant supply stores on its lower part. But their number grew as more Bowery buildings were renovated following the discovery that behind the dilapidated facades there were sound structures. The Chinese, no longer content to stay in the narrow confines of Chinatown (here the Bowery begins on Chatham Square), buy up more and more of the houses that come on the market; Confucius Plaza, on the southern end of the Bowery, is a city-built skyscraper with dwellings for Chinese only. Another City project, which was to encompass several blocks on the Bowery, has not yet materialized for lack of money; also, since first planned, it was reduced in scope.
Moreover, artists and writers have moved into the spacious lofts, theatrical activity has resumed on, and all around the Bowery, restaurants find increased patronage and new cabarets, rock establishments and discoes have won favor among the young. Thus a new Bowery is in the making. Traces of the old persist, and they will remain as long as the City’s Men’s Shelter stays near the corner of the Bowery and Third Street. But it is not too difficult to foresee the time when the Bowery will have outgrown its recent notoriety thereby proving that in New York, where neighborhoods all too often change for the worse, they can also change for the better.
Reviews
The New York Times ‘Going Out Guide’
October 19, 1982
“The Bowery was one of the earliest routes out of New York (Broadway was the other). In its 300 years it has gone from wilderness to farm road (“bowerie means farm in Dutch), to entertainment center, to Skid Row and in recent years to home for Off Off Broadway theater. It is a street where everything and everyone has a dramatic, photogenic look, and, if you are squeamish, you may now have a comfortable vantage onlooker’s post on Fifth Avenue, opposite Central Park . . . at the Museum of the City of New York, Fifth Avenue at East 103rd Street, and at Goethe House New York, 1014 Fifth Avenue, at 82nd Street.
“The Bowery: Portrait of a Changing Street” is the work of Carin Drechsler-Marx, a professional photographer, born in France and raised in Germany who became fascinated with the avenue in 1974 and who has been snapping it ever since.”
Antiques & Arts Weekly
October 1982
“. . . Initially attracted by the Bowery’s stereotypical image as a place for the down and out, Ms. Drechsler-Marx quickly discovered a neighborhood of much broader and unexpected variety. (She met artists, visited theatres, talked with business people and gained access to a Buddhist temple.) Her curiosity and considerable hard work has resulted in a remarkable documentation that is an objective and unbiased visual explanation of the Bowery. . .”
Die Welt, Berlin, Germany
February 28, 1985
“The writer Kate Millett called the Bowery ‘a brutal street.’ She knows what she is talking about for she has lived there for more than a quarter century. With increased empathy she has experienced the ‘eccentricity and anger,’ ‘the poverty and hardship’ in this street ‘filled with human waste.’
The German-American photographer Carin Drechsler-Marx documented life on the Bowery for almost ten years. . . The exhibition at Haus am Kleistpark in Berlin (Germany) is a selection of approximately 170 images organized by themes. The viewer is shocked by the atmospheric density as much as by the informative ‘Sachlichkeit’ (matter-of-factness) of the photographs. Artists and actors congregate at ‘Phebe’s,’ a pub. ‘Aida’ with piano accompaniment at the small Amato Opera. Two of New York’s most popular rock clubs next to countless lamp and restaurant equipment stores are part of the Bowery inventory. . . But most important are the ‘bums,’ the homeless, the freaks, alcoholics and former mental patients released from mental hospitals. . . New York street noises, snatches of music, human voices and the howling of police sirens pierce through this exhibition.”
Tagesspiegel, Berlin, Germany
February 28, 1985
“Hitting Rock Bottom: Photographs of the New York Bowery by Carin Drechsler-Marx
The homeless man – in this street disparagingly called ‘bum’ – is sitting on the sidewalk in front of a metal-gated shop. His corduroy coat is worn, the shoelaces are open. With a scrutinizing look at the camera and a miniscule smile on his face he rubs his dirty thumb and middle finger. A gesture to the photographer to pony up a little money.
“Carin Drechsler-Marx is against ‘stealing’ her subject’s faces. She dispenses with voyeuristic tele-lenses even though occasionally she photographed the down and out lying in the street. It speaks for her that in a brief statement she asks for ‘forgiveness’ from those injured, bloodied homeless men whose pictures she took without their consent. . .
“A number of the photographs exhibited in Berlin are published in the accompanying catalogue. The photographer, born in Strasbourg, France, has not yet been able to find a publisher in the United States. The commercially oriented publishers there consider images of a disreputable street in their glorious city a ‘too sad subject,’ she says without bitterness.”
Volksblatt, Berlin, Germany
February 10, 1985
“. . . It remains incomprehensible why in a rich country like the United States broken human beings take refuge in a street that more or less leaves them to their own fate. America, the land of boundless opportunities, where within a brief period of time one can move from dishwasher to millionaire, this image at best can still be found in old movies.”