16 Henry Street: Then And Now

It really should be "then and Then" since 16 Henry Street looks like it hasn't changed.
Correction: The pic of the house is of 24 Henry Street, which, as of May, 2012, is slated to be demolished.

1914: Lillian Wald And The Henry Street Settlement

wald-1914

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Lillian Wald

a more serious look at those pictures
Lillian Wald2

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Lillian Wald: Call Me

I know the sound and images don't work too well together. I couldn't find any songs with "Lillian" or "nurses" in the title and I just found the version that will be played on the next post and it's stuck in my head.
There's a talk at the Eldridge Street Synagogue on Lillian Wald tomorrow

Lillian Wald Remembered- Sunday, March 22, 11 AM
Pay tribute to Lillian Wald (1867-1940), founder of the Henry Street Settlement and the Visiting Nurse Service of New York. Wald's public health campaigns on the Lower East Side opened the door to national and international crusades for social justice, and immigrant, women's, and civil rights. Professor Marjorie Feld (Babson College) will discuss her recent biography of Lillian Wald, highlighting the challenges Wald faced in building these legacies. Co-Sponsored by the Tenement Museum
Free

from wikipedia

Lillian D. Wald (1867–1940) was a nurse, social worker, public health official, teacher, author, editor, publisher, women's' rights activist, and the founder of American community nursing. Her unselfish devotion to humanity is recognized around the world and her visionary programs have been widely copied everywhere.
Wald was born into a comfortable, German-Jewish middle-class family in Cincinnati, Ohio (Her father was an optical dealer.) In 1878, she moved with her family to Rochester, New York. She attended Miss Cruttenden's English-French Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies, and upon graduation, tried to enter Vassar but was denied, as the school thought her too young, at 16. Several years later, however, she went on to attend New York Hospital's School of Nursing.
In 1893, after a trying time at an orphanage where children were maltreated, she started to teach a home class on nursing for Lower East Side (New York) women. Not long thereafter, she began to care for sick residents of the Lower East Side, and soon decided to devote her life to this cause. Along with another nurse, Mary Brewster, she moved into a spartan room near her patients, in order to care for them better. She was the founder of the Henry Street Settlement which later attracted the attention of Jacob Schiff, a prominent Jewish philanthropist who secretly provided her the means to help more effectively the "poor Russian Jews" whose care she made her life's mission. She was able to expand her work later, having 27 nurses helping her by 1906. She never married, preferring to devote herself fully to her career. She authored two books relating to this work, the first being The House on Henry Street, first published in 1911, followed by Windows on Henry Street in 1934. Both books went through numerous printings and today modern reprints are available in both hard and paperback editions. Today, Lillian Wald is widely regarded as the founder of visiting nursing in the United States and Canada.
Another of her concerns was the horrendous treatment of Black Americans (especially the rash of hundreds of lynchings), and as a consequence, she was one of the seminal founders, in 1909, of the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People). As she was already renown for her social work, her involvement in this newly-founded organization was instrumental in raising support for the cause of racial equality. In fact, the first major public conference to create the organization opened with a meeting at her Henry Street settlement.
She died in 1940 of a cerebral hemorrhage. Many people mourned the loss of the dedicated nurse and immigrant reformer. The Lillian Wald Houses on Avenue D (Manhattan) were named for her. She was interred at Mount Hope Cemetery in Rochester.

excellent Lillian Wald source

Henry Street Settlement: Little Mothers, Heroines Of The Day: 1914

Little Mothers

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Henry Street Nurses' Settlement Gives A Show On Baby Life, 1914

Henry Street Playhouse Opens: 1915. Grace Spofford

About Grace Spofford. An excerpt from the iawm journal

Then in 1935, she was named to what she came to consider her most important post-Director of the Music School of the Henry Street Settlement School in New York, an appointment that she would hold for nineteen years.
Spofford's decision to enter settlement work was typical of college educated women of her generation, who, in searching out ways to put their education and gifts at the service of society, found in settlement work a perfect outlet for their aspirations. At the Henry Street Settlement, Grace Spofford accessed yet another female network group which would energize her as she continued to work for social reform.
From the outset, Grace Spofford continued to use the collaborative processes that had become her modus operandi, surrounding herself with an excellent Music Committee which served as an Advisory Board. Its members included Lillian Wald, Helen Hall, Aaron Copland, George Gershwin, Jascha Heifetz, Felix Salmond, and Harold Taylor. Under Spofford's guidance, the Music School began to move in ways that made it more meaningful to the lower East Side community and enabled it to continue excellent musical standards and make important contributions to the field of music education.24 With the enthusiastic support of Henry Street Settlement House Director Helen Hall, the Henry Street Music School strengthened its already excellent programs.
A highlight of Spofford's early years at the Henry Street Settlement House occurred during the 1936-37 academic year-one year after Spofford's arrival. She convinced Aaron Copland, whom she had appointed to the Composition Faculty, to write a new work for the children at the school, one that would be suitable for performance by students, while simultaneously not sacrificing musical standards. Copland welcomed the challenge to write a piece that would be simple enough for youngsters to perform and that would allow him contact with the youth of America. The resulting work was a young people's "play opera" entitled "Second Hurricane," performed by children and young people ages 8-19 from the Music School, the Professional Children's School, the Seward Park High School, and the Adult Chorus of the Henry Street Music School. Many who were involved in the production went on to become prominent in their various spheres of the arts: conductor Lehman Engel, director Orson Welles, and actors Joseph Cotton and Charles Pettinger being the principals among them
Under Spofford's leadership, enrollment at the Henry Street Settlement Music School grew and faculty was expanded. In the 1940-41 season, the school could boast among its faculty pianist Isabelle Vengerova, violinist Ivan Galamian, harpist Lucile Lawrence, and composer Roy Harris, to mention but a few. By 1952 the school had 70 teachers and an enrollment of 900, ranging in age from 5-65 and representing 32 different national backgrounds. Although many of the students had made names for themselves in the world of music, Spofford's philosophy in educating the underprivileged was that "we are just as proud of the ones who marry and raise families or follow careers which have nothing to do with music."

Henry Street Settlement: 1933

Cliff's KV Notes, Part 6: Music Man

New York Post—November 27, 1949:Henry St. Settlement provided the promo photo (left) of Cliff (wearing his signature bowtie) and an unidentified accompanist performing Brahms Piano Concerto No. 1 with orchestral backup.

When my parents thought I had latent musical talent (boy, were they surprised), because I could carry a tune, they decided I should have piano lessons at the Henry St. Settlement Music School. They thought the same of my younger sister, Susan. To get to music school, you had to take the Madison St. bus, get off at Montgomery St., and walk across Grand St. to 8 Pitt St.--a creepy tenement building with funky smells. It was a real come down from KV which, at the time, was my only frame of reference to the rest of the world. The music school was run by Miss Grace Spofford—a blue-haired old lady who took no nonsense. My music theory teacher was Ruth Schaeffer who looked like Kate Smith (size-wise at least). Ruth once put a damper on my classroom antics by sitting on me, much to the amusement of the other musical geniuses in the class. My first piano teacher was a Miss Kleiger, and then Miss Dawson. Miss Dawson was a nice lady, not too strict, but she was serious about music. I think she was once a concert pianist but had health issues. Emcee (at least that was the way it was pronounced) was her first name and she hailed from Australia.
After many years and countless dollars down the drain for piano lessons, Miss Dawson told my parents that she would no longer have me as a student—because I showed her how I could play the piano with my nose, (Hey, Victor Borge played with his toochas), but it seemed I wasn’t “serious” enough. But before I got the heave-ho, I did play at a few music school recitals on their concert piano (had the whitest keys I ever saw) and I did play on a radio program once.
I really didn’t like the piano, and I hated practicing—scales, arpeggios, stuff that was supposed to improve my “technique.” And I hated the music-- simple, “classical” songs that were boring. Maybe if I had had a jazz piano teacher, things might have been different
My sister and I used to play duets at home on our blond wood Kimball upright piano that my parents paid big bucks for. “Play” was a loose term, because what occurred was more mayhem than music, as we tired to knock each other off the piano bench and wrestle with one hand while playing with the other (this, of course, when our parents weren’t watching). Somehow, in our “animated interpretation” of the sheet music, which usually ended up on the floor—along with my sister (fool with “Elevator Man, eh?”) we managed to break off two of the three foot pedals. ‘Course we (along with our parents) could never figure out how the pedals became disconnected from the rest of the piano (must have been a manufacturing defect). If my father knew the truth, I would have become a permanent part of the piano.
My father, determined to get some payback from all the money he wasted on piano lessons (he would have been better off in the market), forced my sister and I to perform a couple of pieces that we knew reasonably well for any company that happened by. We hated it, I’m sure the visitors (relatives, friends of my parents, etc.) hated it, and probably my father hated it, although outwardly he beamed. But we all played the game, and my sister and I acknowledged the polite but tepid applause when it was all over. Maybe my father secretly believed that I would become another Rubenstein, or Van Cliburn, and he could eventually retire in the lap of luxury thanks to the largess I would bring in from command performance concert tours.
Sorry, Dad.
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