The story of New York City begins with the arrival of Henry Hudson’s ship Half Moon into New York’s Upper Bay and then on to the island of Mannahatta (Manhattan) on September 12, 1609.
It was almost noon on that Saturday, and Hudson stood on the quarterdeck with his son, John, and took in a bay such as he had never before seen. Excerpt from my book New York 1609:
“The bay is almost circular, like an amphitheatre,” marvelled his son, who stood by his side. “As beautiful as an open ocean.”
“And at 20 fathoms, almost as deep,” Hudson added, unable to disguise his pleasure at what he was witnessing. “And smell the fresh sweetness of the air.”
Hudson clapped John on the back while seabirds careened above. “It’s a good day for discovering, wouldn’t you say?” He felt giddy with enthusiasm.
Porpoises jumped on both sides of the ship as he spied the mouth of a vast river dead ahead. With the sun behind them, he could see a line of thick, green forest flanking both sides of the river with hills climbing in the distance.
“Remember this twelfth day of September, John,” Hudson said to his son without turning from the sight. “I believe that history is about to change.”
And so it did.
More than 400 years later—where once wolves, bears, and beavers roamed free; when a solid green canopy covered most of Manhattan island; and when a few hundred Native people called it home—we are now presented with this view:
Turning the perspective around, one has to wonder what the native inhabitants of the island were seeing and thinking on September 12, 1609. Here are two artists’ creative interpretations of that first sighting:
And, more realistically, here I am below standing at the edge of Battery Park, literally 650 feet from Manhattan’s actual shoreline of 1609, looking out just as Dancing Fish, my story’s protagonist, would have done on that September 12th. (Note: this photo, taken by my friend Jay Tanen, was actually snapped on September 21, 2016. That’s the Statue of Liberty in the distance to my right and Governors Island to my left.)
In my book, Hudson anchors the Half Moon in the river that would bear his name near present-day Canal Street off Lower Manhattan’s western shore. Soon, there is a momentous meeting of the two cultures on the beach. And later, Dancing Fish stands on the high poop deck of the ship, watching his kin and friends grow smaller as the Half Moon begins to sail up the river. The boy is starting a new adventure, one he could never have envisioned. And in that moment, he feels both the excitement of the present and the fear of the future flowing through him.
Nothing would ever be the same after September 12, 1609. Not for Dancing Fish, and not for what would ultimately become New York City.
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P.S. If I’m silent here and elsewhere online starting Thursday, 13th, it’s due to Hurricane Florence, which is barrelling toward us as I write this. Wish me luck.
It’s an interesting read, as always Harold, and the images are lovely. By the way my daughter Heidi & her husband, who live in Wilmington, NC, are also in the way of Hurricane Florence. They decided not to evacuated as well, and of course I’m extremely worried. Stay safe my friend!
Thanks, Dolores. I’m in central Virginia so think I’m okay for now. Wilmington, NC, however is in the cross-hairs. Hoping everyone in the path of Florence remains safe.