Lillian Edelstein, a self-described “housewife,” became the leader of the East Tremont Neighborhood Association and kept up a valiant fight against Robert Moses and the Cross Bronx Expressway.
Rovert Caro on Robert Moses: “He had, in a way, been deaf all his life — unwilling to listen to anyone, public, Mayor, Governor, deaf to all opinion save his own. But this new, physical deafness contributed in a nonsymbolic, very real way to his divorce from reality.”
Paul Moses alleged that his brother Robert had cut him out of part of his inheritance and kept him out of city positions for which he was, as an engineer, eminently qualified.
It’s a measure of Caro’s humanity that he’s able to depict Moses in his own humanity: arrogant, underhanded, and vain, but a gifted visionary, a tireless worker, and a figure who inspires pity in his downfall. Allowed to keep his chauffeurs and limousine, Moses in decline reminds me of Lear with his retinue of knights: the trappings of power, without the power.
“Even if he only had one guest, he would always have six or eight of his ‘Moses Men’ — ‘my muchachos,’ he used to call them — at the table and it was all ‘Yes, sir, RM,’ ‘No, sir, RM,’ ‘Right as usual, RM!’ When he laughed, they laughed, only louder — you know what I mean. Christ, when he made a statement, you could look around the table and see eight heads nodding practically in unison. It was like a goddamned Greek chorus.”
Martin Dressler walking around the city and imagining its possibilities is a nineteenth-century version of Robert Moses walking around his New York. The difference is that Dressler imagines the vertical possibilities; Moses, the horizontal ones.
This building, at the southeast corner of 46th Street and 3rd Avenue, was one of many that were destroyed to make room fo Robert Caro’s Gowanus Parkway.
“If there was one law for the poor, who have neither money nor influence, and another law for the rich, who have both, there is still a third law for the public official with real power, who has more of both.”