Goats One Day, Galaxies the Next: A Small UWS Park With a Big Story

 By Yvonne Vávra

The problem with Theodore Roosevelt Park is that I never know where to sit. Should I face north and watch the Emery Roth beauties and other stunning buildings play peekaboo behind the trees? Or face south, soaking in the uncomplicated happiness from the dog run, while the universe on display in the Rose Center for Earth and Space reminds me how small I am, and yet part of something so big?

But that challenge to my indecisive soul is really the only problem I have with the park, which stretches from 77th to 81st streets, between Central Park West and Columbus Avenue. In fact, I’m in love with its trees, birds, flowers, nannies, toddlers, squirrels, other regulars — and, more often than not, with one of the benches facing north, where I can marvel at the buildings, the happy dogs, and the galaxies behind me.

Someone once had a very different opinion about this place: “It is a disgrace to the city. It is in some places forty feet below the grade and well characterized as ‘a pestilential hole of stagnant water.’” Pestilential! How dramatic. That someone was Samuel B. Ruggles, a lawyer and politician who developed both Union Square and Gramercy Park in the 1830s and was a fan of open space: “Buildings, towers, palaces, may moulder and crumble beneath the touch of time; but space—free, glorious, open space—will remain to bless the City forever.” Understandably, he wasn’t thrilled with how the city had let the area go downhill.

 The city had purchased the land in 1839, with visions of New Yorkers strolling beneath trees in mind. A main-character name was chosen: Manhattan Square. Theodore Roosevelt, the president it would eventually be named for, hadn’t even been born yet. This was also long before anyone dreamed up Central Park. It wasn’t until 1858 that Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux were selected to transform the swampy area into the country’s first landscaped park. Meanwhile, Manhattan Square just sat there in the wilderness, surrounded by rocks and rubbish, with pigs roaming around and not much else going on. It was giving off middle-of-nowhere vibes.

With the more exciting Central Park project underway, the city forgot all about its Manhattan Square dreams. Literally forgot. On August 25, 1860, The New York Times published an article about a man — his name, apparently, “not necessary to mention” — who had approached the Comptroller with an offer he hoped the city couldn’t refuse. He claimed to know of a large property, referring to Manhattan Square, that belonged to the city but was being occupied by private parties. He offered to disclose both the location and the names of the “pseudo owners” in exchange for a cut of the property’s value. The city did, in fact, refuse, although at the time of publishing, negotiations were still pending.

However it came about, the city was eventually reunited with its square — but had no idea what to do with it. At various points, they considered turning it into a military parade ground during the Civil War, a botanical garden, or a zoo. In the end, Manhattan Square was rescued from its dumpy existence and became the home of the American Museum of Natural History. When Albert Bickmore, the museum’s founding father, first visited the site, he said: “As I sat on top of this rock, the surrounding view was dreary and my only companions were scores of goats.” Not long after, the museum’s first structure opened in 1877, followed by many expansions, the transformation of the surrounding wasteland into a green retreat, and more than a few heated arguments over what, exactly, it should look like.

You certainly remember the wrangling about the museum’s latest expansion. Thousands of Upper West Siders signed a letter against the construction of the Gilder Center, fearing it would destroy the park. The museum won that battle. However, when the fencing came down in the summer of 2023 and the newly renovated park was revealed, I for one immediately forgot about all the worries. The park now had more than 20 new trees, a fresh layer of plants and flowers, a larger lawn, more benches, and cute new pathways winding around the Gilder Center, which I sincerely can’t get enough of. It looks like an alien landed on the historic site, a friendly alien of out-of-this world beauty, who seemed destined to be exactly here, next to these old Romanesque structures of the museum that couldn’t look more different — and yet, it’s as if they’ve been waiting for this visitor all along.

I get why the thought of losing part of Teddy Roosevelt Park troubled Upper West Siders. Outsiders might not have been able to grasp the fuss over a small green space when hundreds of acres of luscious, world-famous Central Park are right across the street. Why sit here, when you can sit there?

The charm of smaller, less dramatic spaces can be surprisingly powerful. Central Park belongs to the whole world and holds so many of its stories. People leave their hearts in it, get entangled with it, and hold it captive in pictures, captive to their expectations. Sure, there are plenty of tourists in Teddy Roosevelt Park, but do they even know its name? They’ve got nothing but dinosaurs on their minds, already planning their next stop. To us, it’s more than just trees around a museum. This one is ours. Not larger-than-life, but the perfect size for the days of our lives.

Pestilential turns resplendent. A swamp becomes a sanctuary. Goats one day, galaxies the next. Our park shows us that no story is ever over. They might be forgotten or nearly lost, but there’s always some winding path leading to an unexpected turn. From pigs and rubble to peonies and planets, this little square has come far. Or maybe it’s just getting started.

Yvonne Vávra is a magazine writer and author of the German book 111 Gründe New York zu lieben (111 Reasons to Love New York). Born a Berliner but an aspiring Upper West Sider since the 1990s (thanks, Nora Ephron), she came to New York in 2010 and seven years later made her Upper West Side dreams come true. She’s been obsessively walking the neighborhood ever since.

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