Late last week, a smallish abandoned church at the corner of Cricklin Avenue and Potts Lane in South Buxton burned to the ground. It had been in that particular spot for almost 103 years. Before that, it’s location had been on a barge in the Ostahanoc River.

In 1881, Myrna Heichman, beloved wife of shipping magnate J. Peter Heichman died of pneumonia. Her final wish was for her husband to “Save those poor men’s souls.” The men to whom she referred were the city’s waterfront laborers. J. Peter had loved the rough and tumble attitudes of the dockworkers, but his wife had always found them to be coarse and distasteful, looking down upon them with a certain amount of pity, sure that they could be reformed, if only they had a bit of spirituality in their lives.

Duty-bound to honor her wishes, he immediately set his engineers and a prominent local architect, Lackson Dowling (he of the Watson College Administration Building, Pelham Tower and many others) to designing what he thought to be the perfect tribute to her memory- a floating church.

No one is sure quite why he thought this to be the best course of action. There was never a biography of J. Peter Heichman, nor did he leave behind any memoirs.

By April of 1883, the structure was completed, looking as though someone had miniaturized a Gothic cathedral in the finest wood available and set it on a barge, docked at Pier 85, then at the end of Main Avenue. An article in the Morning Examiner hailed it as “one of the four best floating houses of worship on the Eastern Sea-Board.”

The non-denominational Myrna Heichman Memorial Chapel did well for many years- both with its intended audience and curiosity-seekers, both of whom eventually coalesced into something of a regular congregation. There were difficulties, though- in any sort of heat, the stench on the polluted river was unbearable, cutting down on attendance and bookings of such events as weddings. The Ostanahoc’s condition at the time also precluded any sort of baptisms in the river, yet it did not eliminate the problem of countless kids having to be shooed off in the summers, as the church proved to be a popular diving platform. Many people just could not get over a bit of seasickness during services in especially choppy waters, with pieces of furniture that had not been nailed to the floor tending to slide around.

J. Peter Heichman died in 1900 and the floating church was turned over to the Seamen’s Beneficence Society, which did not have the funding or resources for the upkeep of such a peculiar structure. This, steadily declining attendance and severe damage from a couple of harsh winters forced the group, in 1903, to turn the structure over to the city, who planned its demolition.

However, in August of that year, during the tragic disaster involving the ferry “Genevive,” the structure served as a gathering place/makeshift hospital/place of worship for the city over those three awful days. The public outcry against demolishing the chapel was great and a newish Lutheran congregation in South Buxton stepped forward to claim the building, assuming that moving an existing building would be easier than building a new structure. In the end, this turned out to not be entirely correct, but money was raised and the building was partially disassembled and moved to the lot near the corner of High (now Cricklin) Avenue and Potts Lane.

Over the years, it housed several religious and secular groups without anything of note happening to it. Most recently, it served three years as the home of an accounting temp staffing firm, before being abandoned in 2002.
- RJ White

:: Number of consecutive weeks the Griswold Arthouse has featured Jaws as its “Friday Midnight Movie”: 1,664

:: Number of “Jaws Burger” fried fish sandwiches sold at the adjacent President Heights Cafe’ during in that time: 41,679

:: Percentage sold between the hours of 2 am and 5 am Saturday morning: 83

:: Number of stars awarded the President Heights Cafe’ by irascible Alternative Weekly food critic Gram Sanders: one-half

:: To the Jaws Burger fried fish sandwich specifically: zero

:: The annual Founder’s Day Film Festival (FFF) will be held from August 8 – 11 this summer, with the official celebration of Founder’s Day to occur on Monday, August 11.   This will also, as usual, be a paid holiday for all city employees.  The theme for this year’s festival is the highly appropriate ‘Summer in the City,’ and the Monday afternoon Founder’s Day matinee will be Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing.  The comprehensive FFF schedule will be released on Friday, June 6.

:: Today, the City Council is scheduled to repeal a 1946 ordinance which banned from city limits any and all stand-alone arcade devices and games. The measure was intended to curb the use of pinball machines in casual gambling, but had the unintended effect many years later of making it illegal to own or operate any cabinet-style video game within city limits (although that aspect of the law was rarely observed and even more rarely enforced, with the city boasting 230 video game arcades during the peak of the fad in 1984).

The Video Game Museum at Mabel Tripp Gardens will be celebrating the occasion by making available for play many of their exhibited games, including Galaga, Defender and Altered Beast.
- David Andrews, Shek Baker, Jon Morris

Firefighters in Furleigh Park staged a daring rescue last Wednesday night of local legend and neighborhood oddity Alfonzo Salazar when his townhouse caught fire in the early morning hours. Mr. Salazar’s home was a monument to the practice of obsessive hoarding, with items of every conceivable size, shape, and type lining each wall, making excellent kindling for the ruinous inferno.

Prior to the blaze, Mr. Salazar, 51, lived alone in his residence on Blackpool Terrace. He has not been employed for several years, though he claimed to be a professional welder in his police report. Other neighborhood residents describe him as seldom seen. “I would rate him somewhere in between harmless and snappish,” commented neighbor Lindsey Klein. “He always asks me for my old batteries.” Others said that he emerges only at night to visit the local convenience store and to rummage through trash put out for collection.

Nearly all of Mr. Salazar’s Victorian-style townhouse was destroyed. Firefighters were alerted to the blaze by a concerned neighbor but were delayed in reaching Mr. Salazar’s townhouse due to City Council President Otis Stevenson’s extensive motorcade, which had stopped for ice cream on Logan Boulevard.

In a telephone interview, Chief Fire Inspector Frank Baumer explained the prevailing theory behind the blaze: “It all started when Mr. Salazar finished his evening glass of Wild Turkey. The push cart he was using as a nightstand rolled away from his bed on the impetus of his empty glass. The cart came to a stop at the bedroom wall, which unbalanced a collection of marionettes on the other side, in turn knocking over a long row of National Geographic magazines running into the kitchen. The last National Geographic depressed the plunger on the kitchen toaster, which minutes later popped its toast, throwing the unsteady shelf of soup cans off balance, which all rolled down the damaged vent pipe onto the upturned garden hoe, which in turn rose up and set the tie rack in motion. That of course upset the stack of 78s, which disturbed the bowling ball collection, one of which rolled down the basement steps, bounced off the bedsprings, and flattened a shampoo bottle, which squirted into the open fuse box and sent a shower of sparks onto a pile of Monopoly money and ATM receipts.”

Mr. Salazar was alerted to the fire by the seventeen different smoke alarms scattered about his home. The blaze took hold quickly, blocking the front exit, but Salazar was able to fashion a gas mask from a snorkel and a bundle of pipe cleaners. He then scaled a tower of discarded Dixie cups to a skylight and waited on the roof until firefighters rescued him. The fire was extinguished after sunrise, just before it claimed a box of rare silver dollars and several bottles of long-discontinued Harrison’s Vascular Tonic.

Meanwhile, Inspector Baumer had a word of caution to other city residents with the same agglomerative spirit: “Mr. Salazar was lucky. We don’t recommend that level of hoarding. It’s just asking for trouble. At least invest in a set of Tupperware containers or a storage locker.”

Mr. Salazar was reticent in an interview held after his dramatic rescue. He appeared unfazed by the loss of his cache, excepting the loss of his Pope Paul VI commemorative plates and an unbroken chain of newspapers dating back to 1972. Referring to Council President Stevenson’s motorcade, which delayed firefighters for nearly forty-five minutes, Mr. Salazar opined, “If it weren’t for him I might still have that antique dentist’s chair.”

Asked whether he would begin hoarding again, he replied, “As long as folks are throwing out their crap, I’ll be dandy.” He was later seen collecting the pull tabs from a bag of aluminum cans set out for recycling.
- Miles Link

:: Mayor Wilders’ recent initiative to “clean up” the city’s catalog of archaic, outdated, obtuse or redundant ordinances begins in earnest next Wednesday when he plans to unveil his self-authored C.O.M.B. (Consolidate Our Municipal Bylaws) Initiative. Among the ordinances targeted by the measure are a 1988 ban on prostitution services for pets, last year’s activist “pro-smoking” initiative, and a late 17th-century punishment which calls for “stabbing centrely amidst the fleshie organs” for anyone caught “dealyng with goods of a gypsie nature.”

:: In addition to police officers, emergency response and medical personnel, it is technically illegal in the city to pose as a practitioner of the following professions: Plumber, baker, cobbler, milliner, grocer, asphalt-mixer.

:: Number of local coyote attacks sparking the “Coyotes: This Summer’s Sharks?” three-day investigative series on Channel 8’s newscast next week: 0

:: The Woodbridge District of the city boasts more hair salons, Thai restaurants and British import shops than any other district in the city (124, 70 and 17 respectively).

:: Tourism in the city is down 15% over the same period last year. The Valley Regional Tourism Bureau attributes the decline to budget cuts, leading to a lack of presence for the city in print and internet advertising over the past few months.

:: Ten most common words found in print advertisements in local publications during March 2008:
1. Sale
2. Free
3. And
4. Discount
5. The
6. P.M.
7. A.M.
8. Pork
9. Credit
10. Rebate

:: The Interactive Orwell exhibit celebrates its fifteenth season this year at Agnew Community College’s Wonsley Blvd. campus. Popular with young children and preteens, the “Living Or-world” features an “Animal Farm Petting Zoo”, the “Oceanian Tele-Screen Playground” and “Ministry of Truth Big Brother Relay Race”. This weekend - June 25th, Orwell’s birthday. As always, with purchase of one child ticket, big brothers get in free.
- David Andrews, Shek Baker, Jon Morris, RJ White

Tableaux
The wait to get into star chef Marlon Picard’s latest venture has become legend in the city’s food circles, with the opening night having been booked a full nine months in advance of the room’s opening. Sadly, The City Desk’s staff has yet to actually dine there, but the gorgeous bar offered what could only be described as heaven in a martini glass with the Danny Tenaglia, one of six cocktails named after the superstar DJs that played the opening party. The guests leaving the dining room all had a smile on their face, so hopefully we’ll get to experience the offerings in full soon.
2983 9th, in the Flotilla Insurance Plaza | Reservations Required

Porky’s BBQ
Could this be the barbecue joint the city’s been desperate for since the closing of Jonesy’s? Sadly, no. The ribs were too dry, the brisket burned beyond recognition, and the barbecued chicken, a perennial favorite, had the consistency of gummi worms. Not even fantastic garlic-herb mashed potatoes and cornbread we’d strike our own mothers down for can save this mess.
987 Wagoneer Avenue | No Reservations

Chingy McChongerson’s
While the name may be cringe-inducing, the fare at this Irish-Chinese fusion joint surprisingly exceeds all of our culinary expectations. The first impulse is to scoff at menu items such as the appetizer featuring egg rolls and a Guinness reduction sauce, but executive chef Seamus Wang (no, really!) wins guests over quickly with high-quality, playful fare. Recommended: The heart-attack-inducing Kung Pao Beef Stew and General Gau’s Fish and Chips. Skip: The desserts. Instead, go next door to Eskimo Pete’s and partake of his new Mexican Hot Chocolate sundae.
18th and Myerson | No Reservations
- Kevin Church

May 1940- Winning float in the 1940 Memorial Day parade, Manufacturer’s Division. The Samson Aeronautical Manufacturing Company’s entry, featuring a scale model of a “Personal Helio-copter.” Local aerospace magnate Lemuel Samson (he of the tiny homes of Samson Heights) would eventually let his obsession with this mode of transport ruin his company and deplete his fortune.

It is thought that his experience riding in the model along the parade route that day was the beginning of the end for the Samson Aero. Mfg. Ltd. some fifteen years later.
- RJ White

Original Photo: Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Theodor Horydczak Collection

Over The City Desk’s brief hiatus-

:: No city officials were indicted or arrested.

:: William Atherton withdrew from the mayoral race, rightfully citing it as “gimmicky.”

:: Eleven people were murdered- eight shootings, two stabbings and one vehicular homicide (pending).

:: Three City-Suburban Transit Authority (CSTA) drivers received medals at a national “Bus Rodeo.”

:: The Subway restaurant on Archer Avenue reopened, with inexplicably fancy cafe’ seating.

:: The Mighty Elms have thus far posted a winning record in the season’s first week and a half.

:: A 45-year-old man was crushed by 300 pounds of falling lumber at the grand opening of the Lowe’s on Northside Boulevard.

:: Countless of the city’s residents have fallen in/out of love.

:: Time continued its inexorable march forward.

:: I watched a lot of Arrested Development.

How have you been?
- RJ White

Due to outside matters and a complete and utter lack of content, The City Desk will be taking a short break. In the meantime, here are some pieces you may have missed the first time around:

Save the Legacy Diner (Maybe)
In which Shek Baker weaves a tale of historical preservation that may or may not be warranted.

Stuff Sullivan’s “Cylinder of Dominance”
In which Craig Gaines tells the tragic tale of a local car salesman’s bid to control everything he sees.

The tiny homes of Samson Heights
In which RJ White explores the origins of a persistent urban legend.

When the Moving Pictures Came to Town
In which Matt Vermeulen tells of the city’s bid to be come the film-making mecca of the East Coast long, long ago.

The City’s Letters to Santa
Leonard Pierce’s history of a newspaper’s policy of publishing any letter addressed to Santa, no matter what. Also, the first reference to Lettrism on The City Desk.

What a Character!: Monsieur LeSteak
In which Jon Morris introduces us to another of the city’s retired advertising mascots. This time, a slab of meat that likes to stab itself.

Some Items About Our City Flag
In this very clearly-titled piece, David Andrews introduces us to some facts (items, if you will) about our city flag.

Even more can be found in browsing our archives to the right, by category, date or Google search. Or, we would also suggest that you perhaps browse some of the fine sites linked on the left. We will (hopefully) be returning soon. Thank you.

A brief parody of the film, directed by City Desk contributor Stephen Levinson:
[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQE045CkDpY]

The unfortunate situation with New York’s Governor Eliot Spitzer has reminded some of a similar controversy which rocked our city in the early 80s. Popular Republican state Representative Karl Montgomery was elected to the mayor’s office in 1980 and had a relatively low-key, yet effective, first year in office. Then, in February of 1982, he suddenly resigned for no apparent reason, at what has come to be known in local political and journalistic circles as The Lunch.

On February 2, Montgomery was scheduled to give a speech at the annual membership luncheon for the Pinion Club, an organization for city business leaders. This had been a yearly tradition for the twenty-seven years of the club’s existence and pretty much ran to the same routine every single time- mayor comes up, talks about the importance of business and commerce, tells a few good-natured jokes, maybe mentions some new policy initiative, serve dessert, end of luncheon. On this day, however, Montgomery took the podium, gripped it nervously and began his planned speech. After the first few sentences, he started railing about the “jackals of the press amongst us,” “certain moral lapses” and, almost tearfully, said that he hoped it would not come to his having to leave office, but he would if the people called for it. After an awkward pause, he mumbled a quick thanks, then hurried out of the Pinion Club’s Oak Room with his entourage of confused and shocked-looking aides.

The “jackal of the press” to whom Montgomery referred in the room at the time was an intern for the Journal-American, student Ken Marsh (now editorial page editor at the News). With the regularity of little-to-no news coming from the luncheon year after year, no editors thought the event to be worth covering with real reporters. The other news outlets in town hadn’t even bothered sending anyone (though Clarion-Standard publisher and lunch attendee Stanton Crawes could be seen frantically screaming into one of the Pinion’s house phones minutes later). Suddenly, Marsh had one of the biggest scoops in decades. He called it into the Journal-American immediately, where the news brought the room to a stop, momentarily, as no one had any idea why Montgomery would do such a thing. Immediately, though, the newsroom spun into action, sources being called across the city, but still- nobody had any idea. The Mayor’s own press people seemed a bit taken aback when called for comment- even they hadn’t even heard the news yet.

As the reports started making their way to local radio that afternoon, Montgomery’s office finally issued its first statement- that all reports were mistaken, that the Mayor had said no such thing about a possible resignation. Except for the fact that 133 of the city’s business leaders, their guests and a newspaper intern with a tape recorder could attest otherwise, as they had witnessed the whole thing with shock and alarm. As it turned out, however, not every person in attendance was shocked.

One of those prominent businessmen knew exactly what had prompted Montgomery’s outburst- Garrison Webster, the president of SaniServices, Ltd. Eight months before, the company had been awarded an extremely lucrative multi-year janitorial contract for the city’s facilities and Webster had personally seen to it that the Mayor was thanked in a Special Manner. A Special Manner involving certain ladies. Repeatedly. So, as soon as Montgomery started getting very nervous, Webster knew what was coming, as the Mayor had called him that very morning, nervous because he’d received several phone messages from a reporter asking about “cleaning services contracts” and “the girls.” When hizzoner saw the intern sitting at table number 9, scribbling in a reporter’s notebook, he assumed the worst and months of guilt came bubbling to the surface.

The messages had actually been from a reporter for the News, working on a story about health benefits for the city’s low-income residents and was asking for comment about the lack of coverage for the city’s (largely female) janitorial staffers. No one was anywhere near any sort of story about a major city contractor paying for the mayor to sleep with prostitutes. By the following day, as cracks formed in walls of silence, deep sources spoke and pieces began to fit together, the city’s media outlets had everything they needed. The fact that he had, in his first year in office, called for a stiff crackdown on vice in the city did not help matters much. The word “ironic” was used heavily in press coverage. The major difference between Montgomery and Spitzer seems to be that people actually seemed to feel a bit sorry for the disgraced Mayor, as he likely could have continued to get away with it, as so many had before him.

On April 15, 1982, Mayor Karl Montgomery formally stepped down, replaced by Mayor pro tem Hatcher Yardling III, who shot someone later that year.
- RJ White