Final installment of the ‘Houdini’s My Homeboy’ mini-series. Here’s photographs taken from Fall 2009, at the annual Broken Wand ceremony.
The term ‘broken wand’ is used when a magician dies. Since Harry Houdini was a president of the Society of American Magicians (S.A.M.), the organization continues to gather at Machpelah cemetery every year to mark his passing.
The broken wand ceremony for Houdini is usually held sometime around Halloween. The exact date itself varies because Houdini was Jewish. Therefore S.A.M. follows the Jewish calendar in honor of him.
The exact ceremony itself only takes a few minutes. A small speech is said, then silence as the wand is symbolically snapped in half.
At the time these photos were taken, the original bust of Harry Houdini’s head was missing. Due to the bust being vandalized four times, S.A.M. kept their own copy. Their bust would only be taken out and put on Houdini’s burial site during special occasional such as this. Since then, a new replica has been made, and discovery of another Houdini bust came to light.
If you’re curious about burial grounds in the outer borough of Queens NY, here’s another link. Dated June 2013:
Ever since doing book report on him during elementary school, I’ve been slightly fascinated by magician Harry Houdini. Houdini and the rest of his immediate family are buried in Machpelah Cemetery, located in Ridgewood, Queens (although it’s really closer to Glendale).
Machpelah Cemetery 8230 Cypress Hills Street Ridgewood Queens NY 11385
There is a supposedly a telephone listed with the address, but don’t bother calling it. As you can tell by the photos, the office hasn’t been in use for quite some time.
As I was leaving Machpelah Cemetery, I noticed a sign screwed into one of the nailed up doors. The sign states that the Houdini site is solely cared for The New York chapter of the Society of American Magicians. The sign’s statement ends with a quote “We never pay the bill.”
When I got home I did some research to discover the entire exact quote.
“Turns out, someone does come and shape up the grave once in a while. The New York chapter of the Society of American Magicians has a Houdini Gravesite Committee, and a Brooklyn man named George Schindler is the committee chairman. He said that the bust of Houdini that once adorned the grave site was often vandalized and is now kept in storage by the committee, whose members bring landscaping tools to the cemetery and tidy up the grave site several times a year.
“Houdini paid for perpetual care, but there’s nobody at the cemetery to provide it,” he said, adding that the operator of the cemetery, David Jacobson, “sends us a bill for upkeep every year but we never pay it because he never provides any care.”
Machpelah Cemetery is right next door to other Queens cemeteries, all which are way better maintained that the one Houdini is buried in. However, despise Machpelah’s negligence, the final resting place for Harry Houdini still hold much more mystery.
“Just the two of us Here on a blanket of love Writing love letters in the sand As long as there’s sand And as long as there’s the sea You’ll be my Coney Island baby” – Coney Island Baby, The Excellents. 1962
“Ahhh, but remember that the city is a funny place Something like a circus or a sewer And just remember different people have peculiar tastes…” Coney Island Baby, Lou Reed. 1975
What hasn’t been said about Coney Island? It’s been an urban escape for many generations of New Yorkers, and part of the Brooklyn folklore. My parents first took me to the rabbit land during the ’70s. Back then it was a gritty, diminished former shell of itself. There was Astroland, the Cyclone, Nathan’s, and your average amusement park rides. In my pre-teen ’80s years, my buddy found her first boyfriend. An Hispanic guy in his late teens or early twenties. While I was too busy trying to copy Boy George’s style, she ended up losing her virginity to him. Later on as the ’80s progressed, I more or less forgot about Coney. Except for one time me and my other friend cut school to visit Coney in the winter. It was dead, dead, dead, as some wretched hag made fun of my Siouxsie hairstyle.
Coney slowly started its resurgence during the late ’90s and early 2000s. First there was the Coney Island Freakshow. Later I discovered the Mermaid parade, and followed the celebrants to Ruby’s Bar and Grill. Then there was talk of property being brought, and rumors of assorted changes. Throughout all of this, memories continued to be created. Some fond ones: me, one of my oldest friends along with his girlfriend shucking down raw clams and beer one fond September night in 1998. Discovering an ex-boyfriend’s hidden racism when a young African American boy asked him for spare change in 2004. Seeing Squeeze, Joan Jett and assorted ’70s Disco acts for in concert for free last year. The list goes on.
For me no summer in NYC would be complete without at least one visit to Coney Island. Although I only managed to visit Coney twice, I could still spot some of the sandy magic. Like watching the 1980 film Fame on an inflated big screen while locals sat on the beach. The sun was going down, the ocean was to my left, and my cynical self was reminded of what dreams were made of. Sounds corny, no? Even when switching Astroland back to it’s original name of Luna Park, Shoot The Freak was replaced by a pricey tourist shop, and Applebee’s with its cruel shark tank, there’s always going to be the core gem which is Coney Island.
Who doesn’t know about Coney Island? It’s been an iconic part of NYC for who knows how long. When I was growing up in NYC, Coney was in a state of decline and disarray. Now it’s having a resurgence somewhat. Even though most of Brooklyn’s character has been wiped out by the current gentrification, there’s still elements of the old NYC coming through. For example – last time I visited Coney, three people wearing tee shirts with the word “fuck” could be seen. Two of the shirts read “fuck you you fucking fuck” and “fuck you I have enough friends.” Stay classy Coney Island.
I took some photos of the ever changing Coney, once inhabited by rabbits. I’ll break these posts into two parts, since plenty were snapped. Without further ado, here’s part one.
Stay tuned for some more Coney Island photography part two.
Been meaning to photograph all the graffiti and street art that can be seen around the Bushwick area of Brooklyn. Then the annual BOS, short for Bushwick Open Studios rolled around. For those who don’t know what BOS is, it’s when artist around and from the Bushwick area open their studios to the general public. Sponsored by Arts In Bushwick, the audience can see various paintings, sculptures, jewelry, photography, etc., by various artists. The public can explore different parts of Bushwick, particularly on the L subway line. Stops such as Morgan Avenue, Dekalb Avenue, Jefferson Street, and continuing up to where the borderline crosses into Ridgewood, Queens.
Last year I participated in BOS 2012. This year, I was content just checking out places around the Jefferson stop on the L line. After stopping in a few scattered studios, and coming across some real pretentious artist who advised me to “create the problem, then solve the problem…”, I snapped these photos.
The early summer sun was already in full blast. This started to remind me of some of the street art I had seen during my visit to San Francisco during April 2000.
The street art below reminded me of contemporary artist Kenny Scharf. Maybe this was his work.
Suddendly me and two others stumbled upon this car wreck. Actually we discovered this wreck a month earlier. Happily this wreck was not removed, making it a perfect photo opp.
A few pop culture references came to mind. The song by Gary Numan Cars, Warm Leatherette by The Normal (later covered by Grace Jones, Giddle and Boyd, and countless others), the novel Crash by J. G. Ballard, and the pretend car accident scene in John Waters’ flick Female Trouble. So a little bit fun was had as we joined the car crash set.
Onwards we continued out quest for more street art, graffiti and more BOS festivities.
Lots of arty revelers were out in the streets of Bushwick. Spoted a topless woman walking around with a drawn on mustache. Out of respect I didn’t take a photo of her. This other lady caught in the middle of street texting was caught in the digital crossfire instead. The heat was beating upon us cynical folks. Therefore it was onto to Cobra Bar to cool off.
At the Cobra there was tri-hawked artist Antoinette Johnson showing her paintings and photos of her hair sculptures. The battery was dying in my digital camera at this point, so this was the best I could come up with.
Cause the weather was getting too hot, we stayed at the Cobra for a few rounds. Bringing us to the end of this blog post. Hopefully next year I’ll tale part in the next BOS fest.
FYI…if anyone knows any of the artists, whose work is shown in the street art photographs, please send me an email to Witchipoo@witchesbrewpress.net. I’ll update this post with the proper info asap.
Photographs may not be used without permission. Again, please email me if you wish to use any of the above photography. Thank you.
Since early this year, I’ve been working on my photography. Taking one step beyond the beloved Instagram, I like to take the photo imperfections, and blend them into the process.
It all started when my good friend found a working manual film camera for under twenty bucks. He passed the goods onto me. Six months later as a belated birthday present, he also found an old digital camera. Added a bit of Photoshop skills to the mix for that unique look.
Here’s a brief collection of what I’ve taken so far: