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Pilgrim United Church of Christ

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  Courtesy of NYC Department of Taxation and Finance/ 1940s.nyc There’s a rule of thumb for city explorers: when a discovery seems too easy, it probably is. I was prowling the block, the sun beating down on the pavement, when I saw it. An entrance, tucked away beneath the shadowy tangle of sidewalk scaffolding, a side door was wide open. It was an invitation wrapped in a warning. The air was thick enough to swim through, that specific, suffocating brand of a New York City summer heatwave. I needed a moment, a prop. I ducked into the corner bodega, the bell on the door announcing my brief escape into the chilled air. Minutes later, I was back on the street with a cold can of AriZona Mucho Mango Juice Cocktail, its condensation a welcome relief against my palm. Standing nonchalantly on the sidewalk across the street, I took a long sip and began my watch. I wasn't just waiting for the right time; I was studying the rhythm of the street, waiting for a gap in the steady flow of people. ...

United Wiping Cloth Company

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Sometimes, in the quiet race to document the past, you’re just a week too late. That was the story with the old garment factory on Lloyd Street. I had just pinned its location in MyMaps for a trip to Pennsylvania, a promising brick shell I hoped to explore, when the news broke. It was gone. In its place was a fresh scar on the landscape, a void where a piece of the city’s story once stood. The demolition was swift, a decisive act funded by half a million dollars in county and state money, taking with it a handful of long-abandoned row homes that had been its neighbors in decay. This wasn't just any building. The building was originally built as a meat packing facility for Armour & Company in the early 1900s, and was later acquired by Milton Sorin and his United Wiping Cloth Company. For decades, it was the United Wiping Cloth Company, a place of work and purpose. Over the years, it had supplied rags to many varied manufacturing concerns all over the eastern United States, until...

Former Sonoco Paper Mill

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  Long before Amsterdam, New York, earned its title as the “Carpet City,” its story was written in water. The restless energy of the Chuctanunda Creek, a modest stream tumbling through the Mohawk Valley, was the city’s first engine. By the early 1800s, its currents were powering the fledgling mills, setting the stage for a transformation that would define not just a city, but an entire era of American industry. The real revolution, however, arrived on a man-made river. The opening of the Erie Canal in the mid-19th century, followed by the iron arteries of the railroad, was like a jolt of lightning. Suddenly, this small upstate city was plugged directly into the world. The goods crafted in its workshops, from linseed oil and simple brooms to intricate buttons and ironworks, could be shipped anywhere with astonishing speed and economy. Amsterdam was no longer just a town; it was becoming a hub. Yet, among its many trades, one industry rose to define its identity. The city’s name beca...