Queenspix.com

From 1929-33 the subway came to Elmhurst. The city used a cut and cover technique to dig a tunnel down Broadway. This destroyed many colonial era buildings that still stood along the route. Why do I mention this? Well,the city took a series of survey photos of the area before work began and copies are for sale at Queenspix.com. Here is a selection of the Moore/Perry estate. I have found the service from Queenspix fast and professional and he can even crop and zoom into certain scenes to bring out hidden details of locations.

Merry Christmas part 2

Why all the cutting and pasting? Just a little background for the scans of the postcards of the Moore Homestead which stood in the park (roughly opposite the phone building) until 1933.

Clement Clarke Moore / Moore Homestead Park

Clement Clarke Moore (1779-1863) was the great-great-great grandson of Reverend Moore. Born in New York City, Clement spent much of his boyhood and youth at the family estate in Newtown. He was tutored at home by his father and graduated from Columbia College with a B.A. in 1798, an M.A. in 1801, and an honorary LL.D.

Moore is best known as the inspired author of the delightful children’s poem, "A Visit from St. Nicholas." He composed the poem for his wife Catherine Elizabeth Taylor Moore and their children in 1822. A family friend had the poem published anonymously in the Troy Sentinel the following year. With subsequent publication in newspapers, magazines, and illustrated editions, the poem became a classic popularly known as "The Night before Christmas." Moore died in Newport, Rhode Island in 1863.

Around the turn of the century, most of the Moore estate was divided into building lots and sold at auction. The site of the homestead, however, remained in the family until the Board of Transportation acquired it during the construction of the Independent Subway in 1930. The buildings were razed in 1933. Soon after Parks acquired this property from Transportation in 1954, plans were drawn up for a new playground, with play equipment and athletic facilities for children.

Merry Christmas

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
by Clement Clarke Moore


'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;


The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;


The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,


But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.


And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.


But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."