If the ferry terminal on the Manhattan side imposes itself awkwardly on Battery Park, the new terminal at St. George, in Staten Island, manages the diametric opposite: most of the time one is hard pressed to find it.
Like the other side, this side as a somewhat colorful history. After sticking his nose in Manhattan business and sinking the VSBA proposal, borough president Guy Molinari had a go at a little one-upmanship, tapping Peter Eisenman to develop a concept that was everything you would expect: daring, perhaps gimmicky, and expensive. And like most Eisenman schemes that fit that bill, it eventually faded, to be replaced by HOK, the SOM of the Midwest.
My general understanding that something grand was growing on the Richmond shore — along with a pretty glowing press release on the HOK site — sent me to the far side of the harbor, where I was promptly confused by the hype. The couple items I’d read indicated that the development was going to displace any notion that the new terminal was merely a traffic turnaround. Given some of the impressive riverfront development being undertaken elsewhere around Manhattan, I was reservedly hopeful. This turned out to be a misplaced hope.
Arriving at the terminal, the gap between the disparate cultures of Manhattan and Staten Island are placed in immediate and stark relief when trying to exit the building. There are several points of egress, but most lead to transfer points to other modes of transit. One leads west to the minor league stadium for the Yankees, but beyond that, it is hard to discern a route to the nearest local street, which seems a good quarter mile distant — and, worse, it doesn’t look exceptionally pedestrian friendly.
None of this indicts the efforts of HOK, since one mandate of their redesign was to retain most of the existing infrastructure, which includes several bus turnabouts, some car lanes — for both drop off and ferry access — limited parking, and the terminus of the Staten Island light rail line. Unknotting this snarl would have certainly been an expensive proposition, and I can say with no authority that it would improve circulation, never having accessed the terminal from the land side.
But this isolation, particularly for the casual visitor, makes for a listless visit, a sensation made more acute when one considers the bustle that defines Battery Park on the far shore. Perhaps this is appropriate for the borough that works hardest to extricate itself from the larger identity of New York City (even as they relentlessly campaign for subsidized access via the ferry and Verrazano Narrows), but it is disorienting and alienating, given how easy it is to get to the Manhattan side from any number of modes or approaches (granted, the last hundred yards are rather difficult, but this is a temporary condition).
And it quickly dispenses with any notion that this is the lynchpin of a waterfront redevelopment. Given the vistas of lower Manhattan, the harbor and Brooklyn immediately available, it would seem to be a sensible idea. But there is nothing there to indicate the opportunity is being pursued. The bizarre, seemingly security-induced requirement that all passengers must exit forces a little bit of visitor wandering, and for those who fail to hustle back to the departing ferry will be rewarded with a half-hour visit to a mostly empty facility.
This terminal is also seems incomplete, with some sections possibly awaiting renovation, or perhaps just tenants. It isn’t readily apparent, nor can one tell if there is a raft of food and entertainment opportunities forthcoming. Given how isolated it is, I suspect that very little is. Consequently, ‘new terminal’ seems a misnomer. The signature element, a large arch that springs toward the stadium, looks more to be part of it than the terminal, and given its placement, it serves as an awkward intermediary not seeming affixed to either portion.
The arch motif continues on the inside, as some poorly selected flooring mimics the curve the length of what I guess would be called the ‘main hall’ — in point of fact, a weakly residual space that collects the disparate entry and exit points. This area is seems to be the locus of retail opportunities, but, again, it was hard to tell if any are pending.
The waiting area is the most articulated section, and is nice, if by nice, one means well-executed, vaguely modernist engineering chic. Sort of a lightweight Morphosis or Nicholas Grimshaw, which HOK does just fine, in the same way that SOM does the upscale corporate interiors well. Prominent columns wrapped in perforated metal, clearly articulated structural members, and a gently curving roof deliver everything you expect, but not much more.
It’s not as bad a space as the above might describe. The scale is good, managing to not seem crowded or barren (though early morning rush might be another matter), and the preponderance of metal is not cold or off-putting, since it is, after all a port. Being a high traffic space, hard surfaces are logical, though it might have been nice if the space reflected what is the most dramatic element of the existing building, the stands of creosote slathered wood that line each slip.
The flooring in this space is far better, featuring a helpful map of the harbor area. Another nod to location are air vents that look vaguely like portholes. Passenger circulation is handled no better — or worse, just more of the same non-soltuion — here than the other side; the sliding glass barn doors are nicely detailed, but distinctive in no way. The pathways seem a little better defined, but that might simply be an affect of the more orthogonal layout. Circulation routes are still best understood by following the crowd.
The most interesting, though entirely incidental, result of my trip was spending an hour talking to a off-duty NYPD officer/security guard who was watching absolutely nothing. Aside from fielding repeated questions about where to find a bar, he seemed to have the afternoon set aside to watching lower Manhattan from afar. The best part was our mutual confusion about our environs, me never having left the ferry before, he never having been to Staten Island before. Standing underneath the arch from nowhere to nowhere, we talked about commute hassles, where to eat in the city, and how little native New Yorkers move about their city (born 46 years ago in the Bronx, I was there for his first trip to Staten Island. Ever.). It’s a shame he didn’t have any beer on him, and an extra chair, because that would have been a just fine way to watch the sun set. Hopefully someone will notice how nice that bit of outdoor space would be with some chairs. A boarded-up staircase that leads to what looks like an upper level hints that something is still in the works, though when was hard to discern. From what has been said, no matter what is to come, it will apparently be quite an improvement. To the unfamiliar visitor, however, such subtleties are lost. Hopefully, the final stage won’t leave one that disappointed. Regardless of the weakness of the two terminals, the ferry is still a joy at sunset. Take the trip. Even if there isn’t a beer waiting for you at the other end, there’s one on the way.
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A Tale of Two Ferry (Terminals), Part Two: St. George
If the ferry terminal on the Manhattan side imposes itself awkwardly on Battery Park, the new terminal at St. George, in Staten Island, manages the diametric opposite: most of the time one is hard pressed to find it.
Like the other side, this side as a somewhat colorful history. After sticking his nose in Manhattan business and sinking the VSBA proposal, borough president Guy Molinari had a go at a little one-upmanship, tapping Peter Eisenman to develop a concept that was everything you would expect: daring, perhaps gimmicky, and expensive. And like most Eisenman schemes that fit that bill, it eventually faded, to be replaced by HOK, the SOM of the Midwest. My general understanding that something grand was growing on the Richmond shore — along with a pretty glowing press release on the HOK site — sent me to the far side of the harbor, where I was promptly confused by the hype. The couple items I’d read indicated that the development was going to displace any notion that the new terminal was merely a traffic turnaround. Given some of the impressive riverfront development being undertaken elsewhere around Manhattan, I was reservedly hopeful. This turned out to be a misplaced hope. Arriving at the terminal, the gap between the disparate cultures of Manhattan and Staten Island are placed in immediate and stark relief when trying to exit the building. There are several points of egress, but most lead to transfer points to other modes of transit. One leads west to the minor league stadium for the Yankees, but beyond that, it is hard to discern a route to the nearest local street, which seems a good quarter mile distant — and, worse, it doesn’t look exceptionally pedestrian friendly. None of this indicts the efforts of HOK, since one mandate of their redesign was to retain most of the existing infrastructure, which includes several bus turnabouts, some car lanes — for both drop off and ferry access — limited parking, and the terminus of the Staten Island light rail line. Unknotting this snarl would have certainly been an expensive proposition, and I can say with no authority that it would improve circulation, never having accessed the terminal from the land side. But this isolation, particularly for the casual visitor, makes for a listless visit, a sensation made more acute when one considers the bustle that defines Battery Park on the far shore. Perhaps this is appropriate for the borough that works hardest to extricate itself from the larger identity of New York City (even as they relentlessly campaign for subsidized access via the ferry and Verrazano Narrows), but it is disorienting and alienating, given how easy it is to get to the Manhattan side from any number of modes or approaches (granted, the last hundred yards are rather difficult, but this is a temporary condition). And it quickly dispenses with any notion that this is the lynchpin of a waterfront redevelopment. Given the vistas of lower Manhattan, the harbor and Brooklyn immediately available, it would seem to be a sensible idea. But there is nothing there to indicate the opportunity is being pursued. The bizarre, seemingly security-induced requirement that all passengers must exit forces a little bit of visitor wandering, and for those who fail to hustle back to the departing ferry will be rewarded with a half-hour visit to a mostly empty facility. This terminal is also seems incomplete, with some sections possibly awaiting renovation, or perhaps just tenants. It isn’t readily apparent, nor can one tell if there is a raft of food and entertainment opportunities forthcoming. Given how isolated it is, I suspect that very little is. Consequently, ‘new terminal’ seems a misnomer. The signature element, a large arch that springs toward the stadium, looks more to be part of it than the terminal, and given its placement, it serves as an awkward intermediary not seeming affixed to either portion. The arch motif continues on the inside, as some poorly selected flooring mimics the curve the length of what I guess would be called the ‘main hall’ — in point of fact, a weakly residual space that collects the disparate entry and exit points. This area is seems to be the locus of retail opportunities, but, again, it was hard to tell if any are pending. The waiting area is the most articulated section, and is nice, if by nice, one means well-executed, vaguely modernist engineering chic. Sort of a lightweight Morphosis or Nicholas Grimshaw, which HOK does just fine, in the same way that SOM does the upscale corporate interiors well. Prominent columns wrapped in perforated metal, clearly articulated structural members, and a gently curving roof deliver everything you expect, but not much more. It’s not as bad a space as the above might describe. The scale is good, managing to not seem crowded or barren (though early morning rush might be another matter), and the preponderance of metal is not cold or off-putting, since it is, after all a port. Being a high traffic space, hard surfaces are logical, though it might have been nice if the space reflected what is the most dramatic element of the existing building, the stands of creosote slathered wood that line each slip. The flooring in this space is far better, featuring a helpful map of the harbor area. Another nod to location are air vents that look vaguely like portholes. Passenger circulation is handled no better — or worse, just more of the same non-soltuion — here than the other side; the sliding glass barn doors are nicely detailed, but distinctive in no way. The pathways seem a little better defined, but that might simply be an affect of the more orthogonal layout. Circulation routes are still best understood by following the crowd. The most interesting, though entirely incidental, result of my trip was spending an hour talking to a off-duty NYPD officer/security guard who was watching absolutely nothing. Aside from fielding repeated questions about where to find a bar, he seemed to have the afternoon set aside to watching lower Manhattan from afar. The best part was our mutual confusion about our environs, me never having left the ferry before, he never having been to Staten Island before. Standing underneath the arch from nowhere to nowhere, we talked about commute hassles, where to eat in the city, and how little native New Yorkers move about their city (born 46 years ago in the Bronx, I was there for his first trip to Staten Island. Ever.). It’s a shame he didn’t have any beer on him, and an extra chair, because that would have been a just fine way to watch the sun set. Hopefully someone will notice how nice that bit of outdoor space would be with some chairs. A boarded-up staircase that leads to what looks like an upper level hints that something is still in the works, though when was hard to discern. From what has been said, no matter what is to come, it will apparently be quite an improvement. To the unfamiliar visitor, however, such subtleties are lost. Hopefully, the final stage won’t leave one that disappointed. Regardless of the weakness of the two terminals, the ferry is still a joy at sunset. Take the trip. Even if there isn’t a beer waiting for you at the other end, there’s one on the way.