The Restful Record: New York City, United States of America

On tonight's episode of The Restful Record, we dive into the diverse history of New York City - first home to the Lenape people who hunted and gathered on its plentiful waterways and forests, then settled by the Dutch, who named it New Amsterdam, and finally the British. We explore the diversity engrained in the city since inception and the history of Wall Street and the 1929 crash. Finally, we experience the resilience of the city's inhabitants as they navigate the tragedies of both 9/11 and the Covid Pandemic, proving that there is no place like NYC. 

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Podcast cover art image by Eric Nopanen.

Transcript

Welcome to tonight’s episode of The Restful Record. Whether you're here for relaxation, to de-stress, or to help you fall into a deep sleep, we welcome you. This season we take a gentle journey through time, exploring the stories of different cities around the world. Before we dive into tonight’s city, let's take a moment to relax. Close your eyes, settle into a comfortable position, and take a slow, deep breath in through your nose... hold for a moment... and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Let the weight of your day melt away as you breathe in calm and breathe out any tension. With each breath, feel yourself sinking deeper into relaxation. Now, as we drift through the history of tonight’s city, let the soothing rhythm of my voice guide you deep into relaxation or sleep.

Long before it became a global metropolis, the area now known as New York City was a wild, diverse, and ecologically rich landscape. At the end of the last Ice Age, around 12,000 years ago, glaciers retreated and carved out the terrain, leaving behind rolling hills, tidal estuaries, and fertile valleys. The region was defined by its unique geography—rivers like the Hudson and East, a sprawling natural harbor, and dozens of small islands that made it a nexus of land and sea. Temperatures began to warm gradually, and a temperate deciduous forest took root, dominated by oak, chestnut, beech, and maple trees. Wetlands teemed with life, and freshwater creeks flowed through what would one day be Manhattan, the Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, and Staten Island.

This land was a haven for wildlife. White-tailed deer, black bears, and wolves roamed freely, while bald eagles nested in tall trees and beavers dammed streams to create still ponds. Along the coastline and estuaries, oysters, clams, and fish like sturgeon and shad were abundant, supporting both the ecosystem and the human communities who would later settle here. Migratory birds passed through in great numbers, and the salt marshes and tidal flats acted as vital nurseries for countless aquatic species. For thousands of years, this biodiverse region was home to Indigenous peoples such as the Lenape, who lived in harmony with the environment, managing the land with practices like controlled burns and seasonal migrations.

 Over centuries, this natural landscape was transformed dramatically. With European colonization in the 17th century, forests were cleared, wetlands were drained, and rivers were redirected. Urbanization accelerated in the 19th and 20th centuries, covering much of the original terrain with concrete and steel. Yet traces of the old environment persist: Central Park still hosts red-tailed hawks and raccoons, and Jamaica Bay remains a critical habitat for shorebirds. Today, New York City’s environment reflects a long and complex history—one of resilience, exploitation, adaptation, and ongoing restoration efforts, as the city faces modern ecological challenges like climate change, sea-level rise, and biodiversity loss.

 Long before Dutch ships entered the harbor, the lands around present-day New York City were home to the Lenape people. The Lenape, part of the larger Algonquian language family, lived throughout what is now New Jersey, eastern Pennsylvania, southeastern New York, and parts of Delaware. They called the island of Manhattan Manahatta. Their society was organized into clans led by chiefs and they lived in seasonal villages, moving between coastal and inland sites depending on the time of year. Their communities were deeply tied to the rhythms of the land and water, with a worldview rooted in reciprocity and respect for nature.

 The Lenape were skilled hunters, fishers, gatherers, and farmers. In the warmer months, they cultivated the “Three Sisters”: corn, beans, and squash, which grew symbiotically and formed the core of their diet. Men hunted deer, turkey, and smaller game in the forests, and fished in the rivers and estuaries using dugout canoes, spears, and woven nets. Women gathered wild berries, nuts, and medicinal plants, while also tending to agricultural plots. Shellfish like clams and oysters were abundant along the shores, and massive middens—ancient piles of discarded shells—still exist in parts of the city as evidence of long-term habitation.

The Lenape lived in dome-shaped dwellings called wigwams, made of bent saplings covered with bark or reed mats. Their social and spiritual lives were deeply interconnected with nature; ceremonies marked the planting and harvesting seasons, and oral traditions passed on knowledge of the land and ancestors. Trade routes crisscrossed the region, linking them to other Indigenous nations as far away as the Great Lakes and Chesapeake Bay. Far from being isolated or primitive, the Lenape maintained a vibrant, adaptive society—one that would be dramatically disrupted by the arrival of Europeans in the early 17th century.

 In the early 1600s, as European powers raced to expand their global empires, the Dutch turned their attention to the eastern coast of North America. In 1609, English explorer Henry Hudson, sailing for the Dutch East India Company aboard the Half Moon, navigated up the river that would later bear his name. While searching for a passage to Asia, Hudson instead charted a rich landscape of forests, wetlands, and Indigenous trade networks. His voyage opened the door for Dutch claims to the region, which they called Nieuw Nederland—New Netherland. Just over a decade later, in 1624, Dutch settlers established a small trading post on Governors Island, and by 1626, the settlement had moved to the southern tip of Manhattan, becoming Nieuw Amsterdam.

The Dutch West India Company, eager to profit from fur trading, especially in beaver pelts, saw the area’s deep harbor and access to inland waterways as a strategic commercial hub. The company sent settlers, many of whom were not Dutch but from other parts of Europe, to establish a foothold in the new territory. The first director-general, Peter Minuit, is famously credited with purchasing Manhattan Island from the Lenape for trade goods worth 60 guilders—often mythologized as the equivalent of $24, though the true value and context of the exchange remain more complex and contested. Rather than being a traditional land sale, the agreement likely reflected differing cultural understandings of land use and ownership.

New Amsterdam grew slowly but steadily as a diverse and somewhat unruly colonial outpost. The settlement was fortified with a wooden wall along what is now Wall Street, and buildings clustered near the harbor and fort. The Dutch encouraged religious tolerance and immigration, and the population included not only Dutch Calvinists but also Walloons, Sephardic Jews, free and enslaved Africans, and others seeking opportunity or escape. Despite its commercial focus, New Amsterdam laid the groundwork for many elements that would later define New York City: diversity, trade, tension between private profit and public life, and a strategic location that would continue to shape its destiny.

Though New Amsterdam began as a Dutch trading outpost, its early decades were marked by conflict, opportunity, and a remarkable diversity for the time. The Dutch West India Company prioritized commerce over strict governance, resulting in a colony where people from many backgrounds coexisted—sometimes uneasily. Tensions grew both within the colony and with neighboring English settlers to the north and east. By 1664, the English, seeking greater control of the Atlantic coast, sent a fleet to seize New Amsterdam. The colony’s director-general, Peter Stuyvesant, was known for his strict leadership, but lacking support and military strength, he surrendered without a fight. The city was renamed New York in honor of the Duke of York, brother to King Charles II, who had orchestrated the takeover.

Under British rule, New York continued to grow as a port city and commercial center. The Crown encouraged settlement, trade, and religious tolerance to maintain peace and prosperity in the region. The city’s population increased steadily, attracting merchants, artisans, and enslaved Africans whose labor helped build the infrastructure of the city. Over the next century, New York became a vital link between Europe, the Caribbean, and the American colonies, with its harbor bustling with goods and people. While British control brought new laws, customs, and allegiances, the city retained its multicultural foundation. By the mid-1700s, it had become the second-largest city in the colonies—both a symbol of imperial ambition and a place where new American identities were beginning to take shape.

By the 1700s, New York City had grown into a bustling colonial port, second in size only to Philadelphia. The city’s location made it a hub for trade, especially with the Caribbean and Europe, and it attracted a mix of merchants, dockworkers, enslaved people, artisans, and laborers. Its population was diverse but deeply unequal—slavery was widespread, and class divisions were stark. The streets were crowded and noisy, with taverns, markets, and workshops lining the narrow, winding roads. As revolutionary ideas began to take root across the colonies, New York became a center of both patriot resistance and loyalist support, creating deep divisions among its residents. In fact, the city was so politically split that by the time war broke out, many families and neighbors were on opposing sides. 

In August 1776, New York was the site of the largest battle of the American Revolutionary War: the Battle of Brooklyn, also known as the Battle of Long Island. After the Declaration of Independence was signed, General George Washington rushed to defend New York, knowing it was a likely target. British forces, led by General William Howe, launched a massive amphibious assault, landing tens of thousands of troops on Staten Island and then striking Brooklyn. The battle was a disaster for the Continental Army—outnumbered and outmaneuvered, Washington’s troops suffered heavy losses and were forced to retreat under the cover of night across the East River. New York City quickly fell into British hands and remained under occupation for the rest of the war. During those years, much of the city was damaged or destroyed, including in the Great Fire of 1776, and it became a stronghold for British troops and loyalists until the war’s end in 1783.

The 1800s were a century of extraordinary transformation for New York City. In 1825, the opening of the Erie Canal connected the Hudson River to the Great Lakes, turning the city into a critical gateway between the Atlantic Ocean and the American interior. Goods could now travel from the Midwest to Europe through New York’s ports, supercharging its economy and solidifying its status as the commercial capital of the United States. The city’s population and industry boomed, with new neighborhoods and tenement districts expanding rapidly northward from the crowded tip of Manhattan. Wall Street grew into a financial powerhouse, and the city’s skyline—still modest by today’s standards—began to rise with the construction of grand civic buildings and commercial landmarks.

As the economy surged, so too did immigration. Waves of newcomers arrived in search of opportunity, especially from Ireland and Italy. The Irish came in large numbers beginning in the 1840s, fleeing famine and poverty. Many worked as laborers, dockhands, and domestic servants, often facing deep discrimination and anti-Catholic sentiment. Later in the century, Italian immigrants, many from rural southern regions, settled in dense enclaves such as Little Italy. They brought their languages, foods, and traditions, shaping the cultural fabric of the city. Despite harsh conditions and limited rights, these immigrant communities built churches, schools, mutual aid societies, and political influence—laying the groundwork for generations of New Yorkers to come.

But the 19th century was also marked by violence, inequality, and unrest. One of the most infamous episodes came during the Civil War with the Draft Riots of July 1863. As the Union implemented the first federal draft, resentment boiled over among working-class New Yorkers—especially Irish immigrants—who saw the law as favoring the wealthy, who could pay $300 to avoid service. The protests escalated into four days of deadly rioting, with mobs attacking government buildings, the homes of the wealthy, and tragically, Black New Yorkers, who were targeted in brutal acts of racial violence. Over 100 people were killed, and parts of the city burned. The riots revealed the deep class and racial tensions simmering beneath New York’s rapid growth—and the challenges the city would continue to face as it evolved into a modern metropolis.

In 1883, after 14 years of construction, the Brooklyn Bridge officially opened, connecting the cities of New York (Manhattan) and Brooklyn for the first time by a permanent structure. At the time of its completion, it was the longest suspension bridge in the world and a marvel of 19th-century engineering. Designed by John A. Roebling and completed by his son Washington Roebling—who supervised much of the work while bedridden from decompression sickness—the bridge stood as a testament to human innovation and perseverance. Thousands of people crossed it on foot and by horse-drawn carriage on opening day, and it quickly became a vital artery for commerce and commuters. More than just a transportation link, the bridge symbolized the growth and ambition of New York City as it surged toward modernity.

Just under three decades later, in 1911, tragedy struck in one of the city’s deadliest industrial disasters: the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire. Located on the top three floors of a building near Washington Square, the factory employed mostly young immigrant women, many of whom worked long hours in cramped and unsafe conditions. On March 25th, a fire broke out—likely sparked by a discarded cigarette—and quickly engulfed the workspace. Exit doors were locked to prevent theft, fire escapes were faulty, and there was little time to flee. In just 18 minutes, 146 workers were killed, some leaping from windows in desperation. The public outcry was immediate and intense, leading to sweeping reforms in workplace safety, labor rights, and fire regulations—not just in New York, but across the country. The tragedy remains a pivotal moment in the history of workers' rights and the American labor movement.

The Wall Street crash of 1929 sent shockwaves through the global economy, with New York City at the center of the financial collapse, leading to widespread unemployment and hardship. But before recounting that story, let's take a look back at Wall Street's inception and history. Wall Street’s origins trace back to the 17th century, when Dutch settlers built a wooden wall along the northern edge of New Amsterdam to protect the colony from potential attacks—hence the name. After the British took control and renamed the city New York, the area remained a center of commerce. By the late 18th century, local merchants and financiers sought a more formal system to trade stocks and bonds. In 1792, 24 brokers signed the Buttonwood Agreement under a sycamore tree on Wall Street, establishing the foundation for what would become the New York Stock Exchange (NYSE). Their goal was to regulate trading and reduce competition from outside dealers. Over time, this small agreement grew into a powerful institution, turning Wall Street into the beating heart of American—and eventually global—finance.

Throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, Wall Street expanded rapidly alongside the rise of industrial capitalism. Railroads, banks, and manufacturing companies listed their stocks on the exchange, drawing investors and capital from across the country. The financial district became a dense cluster of neoclassical buildings and buzzing trading floors, symbolizing both the promise and peril of free-market enterprise. 

The Panic of 1873 was one of the earliest major financial crises to strike Wall Street and the broader U.S. economy. Sparked by the collapse of Jay Cooke & Company—a prominent investment bank deeply involved in financing railroad expansion—the panic triggered a domino effect of bank failures, business bankruptcies, and mass unemployment. As investors lost confidence, the stock market plummeted, and the ensuing depression lasted for several years. Known as the "Long Depression," it brought economic stagnation, wage cuts, and rising poverty across the United States. The crisis exposed the volatility of an economy increasingly dependent on speculative investment and underscored the need for financial regulation that would not come for decades.

The Wall Street Crash of 1929, also known as Black Tuesday (October 29), was far more catastrophic in scope and impact. Following years of reckless speculation, easy credit, and inflated stock values during the 1920s, the market began to unravel in late October. In just a few days, billions of dollars in wealth were erased. Panic selling swept through the stock exchange, and countless investors—including everyday Americans who had bought stocks on margin—lost their life savings. Banks began to fail as customers rushed to withdraw funds, and consumer confidence collapsed. Though not the sole cause of the Great Depression, the crash was the breaking point that revealed deep structural weaknesses in the global economy.

In the aftermath, unemployment in the United States soared to 25%, with breadlines and shantytowns—called Hoovervilles—becoming grim symbols of a nation in distress. Banks failed by the thousands, businesses shuttered, and families lost homes, farms, and hope. The economic collapse spread from urban centers like New York to rural communities across the country, bringing widespread poverty and despair. President Herbert Hoover’s initial reluctance to intervene deepened public frustration, paving the way for Franklin D. Roosevelt’s election in 1932 and his sweeping New Deal reforms aimed at recovery, relief, and reform.

Globally, the Great Depression reverberated through interconnected economies. Trade collapsed as countries raised tariffs in a desperate attempt to protect their industries, leading to retaliatory measures that only deepened the crisis. In Europe, high unemployment and economic instability contributed to political radicalization, including the rise of fascist regimes in Germany and Italy. In colonial territories, the economic downturn intensified exploitation and hardship, worsening already strained relationships with imperial powers. The crash of 1929 was not just a Wall Street disaster—it was a global turning point, reshaping economies, governments, and societies for decades to come.

 During World War II, New York City played a vital role as a hub of military production, finance, and morale. Its shipyards, factories, and ports were essential to the war effort, and the city's population swelled with workers and soldiers. Women took on jobs traditionally held by men, contributing to a growing conversation about gender roles—though it’s worth noting that women in New York had already secured the right to vote in 1917, three years before the 19th Amendment granted it nationally. After the war, returning soldiers and waves of immigrants helped fuel a postwar boom. Skyscrapers soared, Times Square glowed, and New York solidified its reputation as the capital of media, fashion, and finance. It became home to the newly formed United Nations in 1945, reinforcing its global status.

 In the decades that followed, the city became increasingly multicultural, shaped by immigration from Latin America, the Caribbean, Asia, and beyond. African American communities, particularly in Harlem and Brooklyn, grew and helped power the civil rights movement in the North. New York was also a central battleground in the fight for gay rights. The watershed moment came in 1969, when police raided the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village, prompting a spontaneous and defiant uprising by LGBTQ+ patrons. The Stonewall Riots became a symbol of resistance and sparked the modern LGBTQ+ rights movement. New York, with its dense population and long tradition of activism, became a haven for marginalized communities seeking visibility, safety, and change.

 But the city also faced serious challenges. In the 1970s and '80s, economic decline, corruption, and white flight led to widespread poverty, underfunded public services, and a surge in gang and drug-related violence. Entire neighborhoods were neglected or abandoned, and New York’s image shifted from glamorous to dangerous. Yet even in the midst of hardship, it remained a cultural powerhouse. The rise of hip hop in the Bronx, punk in the East Village, and the high-society glamour of Studio 54 made New York a center of creative rebellion and reinvention. The legendary nightclub became synonymous with disco, celebrity excess, and a kind of decadent freedom that defined the late 1970s. Artists like Andy Warhol, musicians like Madonna, and designers like Halston helped turn the city into a fashion and pop culture capital.

 By the 1990s and early 2000s, New York was once again transforming. Efforts to reduce crime, revitalize neighborhoods, and attract global investment reshaped the city's image. Mayors like Rudy Giuliani and Michael Bloomberg implemented aggressive policing and economic strategies that were controversial but helped shift perceptions of safety and cleanliness, particularly in Manhattan. At the same time, New York's identity as a multicultural, artistic, and politically engaged city remained strong. 

On the morning of September 11, 2001, New York City was thrust into unimaginable tragedy when two hijacked passenger planes crashed into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in Lower Manhattan. Within hours, both towers collapsed, killing nearly 3,000 people and injuring thousands more. The attacks also destroyed surrounding buildings, filled the air with toxic debris, and paralyzed the city’s infrastructure. First responders—firefighters, police officers, EMTs, and volunteers—risked and often lost their lives in the effort to evacuate survivors and search for the missing. The skyline, the heart of the Financial District, and the psyche of the city were forever changed in a single day.

In the days and weeks that followed, New York became a symbol of both vulnerability and resilience. Vigils, memorials, and an outpouring of community support filled the city. People lined up to donate blood, posted photos of missing loved ones, and gathered in public spaces to mourn and connect. The cleanup effort at Ground Zero, known as "the pile," became a massive, months-long operation involving recovery workers and volunteers who endured hazardous conditions. Many would later suffer from long-term health complications due to exposure to toxic dust and debris. In response to the attacks, security across the city intensified. Police presence increased, surveillance systems were expanded, and airports, bridges, tunnels, and subways underwent strict new protocols that permanently altered daily life.

Economically, the attacks devastated Lower Manhattan. Thousands of businesses were displaced, and over 100,000 jobs were lost in the immediate aftermath. But over time, the city invested in rebuilding and redefining the area. The One World Trade Center, completed in 2014, now stands as the tallest building in the Western Hemisphere, rising near the footprints of the original towers. Beside it, the 9/11 Memorial and Museum honors the lives lost and tells the story of that day with solemn power. The rebirth of the World Trade Center site became a symbol of both mourning and resilience—reminding the world that New York would not only survive but adapt and rebuild.

In the years following 9/11, the attacks left deep emotional, political, and social imprints on the city. New Yorkers became more conscious of global threats and more unified in their civic identity. The trauma also intensified discussions around immigration, surveillance, policing, and religious tolerance, as Muslim and Middle Eastern communities faced rising discrimination. The legacy of 9/11 continues to shape public policy, art, architecture, and how the city responds to crisis. Though the city has grown and changed since that fateful day, the memory of 9/11 remains a defining part of New York’s identity—etched into its streets, skyline, and collective heart

From 2005 through the mid-2010s, New York City experienced both revitalization and deepening inequality. Under Mayor Michael Bloomberg and later Mayor Bill de Blasio, the city invested heavily in infrastructure, housing, and environmental sustainability. The skyline transformed with the rise of luxury high-rises in Manhattan and Brooklyn, and areas like the High Line and Hudson Yards redefined urban development. At the same time, growing gentrification pushed longtime residents out of historically working-class neighborhoods, raising concerns about displacement and affordability. Social movements like Occupy Wall Street in 2011, which began in Zuccotti Park, spotlighted the city’s role in economic power structures and amplified conversations around income inequality and corporate influence.

Then, in early 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic struck New York City with devastating force. As one of the first epicenters in the United States, the city was overwhelmed by the sudden surge in hospitalizations and deaths. Sirens filled the streets, temporary morgues were erected, and essential workers—particularly in healthcare, transportation, and sanitation—risked their lives to keep the city running. Schools and businesses shut down, the subways emptied, and neighborhoods fell silent as millions sheltered in place. The city’s dense population, usually a source of its energy and innovation, became a vulnerability in the fight against a highly contagious virus. By April 2020, New York had recorded thousands of deaths, and the strain on hospitals and frontline workers was unprecedented in modern city history.

The long-term impact of the pandemic reshaped nearly every aspect of life in New York. Remote work became a norm, changing how and where people lived—some moved away, while others reimagined how to use public space. Arts institutions closed their doors or went digital, and the city’s legendary nightlife and restaurant industries were brought to the brink. Yet, the pandemic also revealed the resilience and mutual aid networks that have always defined New York. Pop-up food banks, balcony applause for health workers, and community organizers stepping in to fill service gaps reminded many of the city's enduring strength. As vaccines rolled out in 2021, New Yorkers slowly returned to parks, theaters, and subways—changed, grieving, but hopeful.

 By the early 2020s, New York entered a new era of adjustment and reckoning. The city faced challenges like rising housing costs, climate change threats, and increasing concerns around public safety and mental health in public spaces. Yet it also saw renewed investment in cultural life, technology, and green infrastructure. Mayors and city officials worked to rebalance tourism, equity, and sustainability, especially in the face of global shifts brought on by the pandemic. Landmark moments—such as the legalization of recreational cannabis in 2021, ongoing protests against racial injustice, and the adaptation of public spaces for outdoor life—reflected a city still evolving. As it approached 2025, New York remained a complex, contradictory place: unequal yet inspiring, burdened yet ambitious—a city forever in motion.