The Garden City Community Council on Substance Abuse and Violence Prevention would like to thank the following for their generous contributions to the 2nd Annual Promapalooza: Adelphi Deli, Culinary Heights, DC-3 Deli, Garden City Deli, La Bottega, Manor Deli, Pellegrini Meats, Prime Meats, Town Meat Market, Hengstenberg's Florist, Hicks Nurseries, Key Food, Kings, Party City, Carle Place; Stop & Shop, Carle Place; Garden City PTA

A special thanks to the Garden City School District ...

Custodial Staff, Teachers, Central & High School Administration, for without their support this event would not have been possible.

The Garden City

Community

Council on Substance

Abuse and

Violence Prevention

Momentous

To The Editor:

Have written two years ago to express my thanks for the letters that Edward J. Heaney sends in. I have been following his letters since. Now I am writing in regard to the letter he sent, appearing in the June 29th issue, which I found momentous. What does it take for people to see through the Clintons? Thanks again for Ed's wisdom.

Steve Brent

First Planned Community

To The Editor:

While helping my mother move out of her apartment, here in Westfield, New Jersey, recently, I came across a poem written by a former neighbor of ours on Wyatt Road, Harrison Bullard. My parents, George and Chloris Hertell, were original owners at 65 Wyatt Road. In fact, the folks my parrents sold the house to, after living there for 35 years, are still there. I thought that it might be interesting to your readers if you decided to reprint the poem. You may already have this poem in your archives but I thought I'd send it along regardless. I, myself, graduated from Garden City High School in 1960. My two sisters also graduated from Garden City High School. My mother is still alive and will be 100 years old in January. She is presently living with my sister, Glenda, in Tennessee, in good health.

Keith S. Hertell

Garden City

The First Planned

Community

The bards have written many songs

About the places which they love,

But now I'll raise my baritone

To one I think a great deal of,

The year was eighteen sixty-nine

When A. T. Steart staked his claim

To acres - thousands- which he found

As very prime on Hempstead Plain.

To it was given a lovely name,

The best choice one could come upon--

Garden City - which describes it

Like long white neck describes a swan.

This village was to be unique,

Unlike all others of that time,

With spacious homes and gracious grounds

And many other things so fine.

Like streets as wide as boulevards

That one might find in Paris, France;

And a hotel, luxurious,

Which added to the elegance

For it was architecturally rich

Surrounded by a large compound

Of shady trees and deep green lawns

Which became the social stamping grounds.

Now Alexander Stewart was

A shrewd man from a Scottish clan

And though called dreamer by some men

His every move was done by plan,

A small store got him started on

A path which led to great success.

With Wanamaker as partner

He grew quite wealthy, we would guess.

He did not live to see his dream

Become just what he knew it would.

Just seven years from starting out

He died, but his wife understood

His plans - and vowed to carry out

In every detail his great dream

Which was to bouild a great complex

Cathedral, homes for Bishop, Dean.

First that was built-Cathedral, fine

Called "Incarnation": (Episcopal)

In the year eighteen eighty-five,

In setting almost pastoral.

T'was built of stone in Gothic style,

With gables steep and tower for bells,

Crocheted spire that sought the sky

And seemed to say, that, "All is Well."

The sharply pointed windows were

Enriched with delicate tracery

Which, though t'was done in cold, cold stone

Appeared much like embroidery,

Inside it as so beautiful,

With high, carved pulpit that looked down

Upon the pews placed row on row.

It was the jewel of the town.

Built at the same time, was also

Large Bishop's house - smaller one for Dean'

And school for boys and one for girls,

The nicest then that had been seen;

Each, graced by lovely, large green lawns.

The schools commencements - once a year -

Were held inside the Cathedral

And crowds would gather, just to hear.

The village has other claims to fame.

Perhaps the greatest of these is

The fact that Lindbergjh did take off

From here, to try and reach Paris.

The year was nineteen twenty-seven

And no one thought that he could go

That far with single engine plane-

But he sure proved it could be so.

Another thing for which it's known,

Is Mitchel Field which soon became

Largest air base on the East Coast.

But what achieved even greater fame

Was International Polo Field

Where teams from all around the World

Came to vie for top championship

And hope their banner'd be unfurled.

But there is more that we should tell.

We can't forget Roosevelt Raceway,

Which first of all was auto tracks;

It's future though went different way

For soon it was the premier place

In our whole coutnry, where one could

Watch finest trotting horses which

Brought more fame than perhaps they should.

But this was not the final gem

In crown of this community,

For it is proud to be the home

Of leading University.

Adelphi University

Moved from Brooklyn to its present site

In ninteen twenty-nine - and since

Has graced this village - which is right.

In ninteen nineteen, we are told,

This village did incorporate,

There's nothing rare about this act -

But what was done to celegbrate -

And lives until this very day -

Is something that is most unique.

No other place that we know of

Has used the very same technique.

"Gentlemen's Agreement" it was called,

And based on simple principle,

That each section was entitled -

In elections, municipal -

To equal share of offices;

For village voting came - the one

On whom all voters would agree.

But this agreement said even more;

The Mayor's Office would, each year,

Be filled by each area in turn.

Thus favortism did not rear

Its ugly head - and what is more -

On the few times that someone's greed

Caused them to challenge this fine plan -

A large NO vote chastised the deed.

When Stewart died at seventy-three,

St. Mark's church in the Bowery

Was where his body was laid to rest.

This would be just temporary

"Til the Cathedral was finished.

But we are told, that two years later,

It was stolen - and thus begat

A mystery hard to decipher.

Today the mystery's still not clear

For we are told the widow did

Pay large ransom for a body

Which was shipped on flatcar, amid

Large slabs of marble destined for

Use in building the Cathedral.

The body then was placed in crypt -

Welcome home like prodigal.

But even today, nobody knows

If the stone crypt really contains

What Mrs. Stewart thought she bought -

Mr. Stewart's earthly remains.

For those who might be curious,

This crypt can still be seen today,

And one can stand and speculate -

How did this mystery get this way.

It is a fact that all things change,

And Garden City is no different;

Now it's taking on the status

Of Wall Street center - competent

To challange markets of finance,

No matter where they may be found.

But this does not alter the fact,

In other things it's not lost ground.

For it remains a quiet place,

With single family homes that are

Refined, and beautifully landscaped,

With nothing one would think vulgar.

It's true the old hotel was razed

To make way for new edifice -

But what's new is not really bad -

It's merely added emphasis.

So-true to its original design

It stays the same, most basically,

Yet grows to show it's worthy of

A place, unique, in history.

It hardly seems that it has been

As long as thirty or so

Since Grace and I were called away

When business said we had to go.

Our roots are deep in this village -

Our daughter Lauren grew up there'

And at St. Mary's went to school

And wouldn't be married anywhere

Except at the Cathedral - with

School's Chaplain as the celebrant,

Plus big reception for her friends

At the Hotel - t'was elegant.

Although we have been away too long,

Our thoughts return quite often and

We reminisce about those years

We loved so much on Long Island.

This hundredth Anniversary

Of the Cathedral's construction

Just seemed appropriate to pen

this narrative poem - in celebartion.

Harrison Wilder Bullard

1985