Most of you who have followed me awhile know that I was planning to finally visit Bobby's resting place, Hart Island, and explore the East Village of Manhattan, which he haunted in the last years of his life and in which he eventually took his last breath back in 1968. I've been planning this for a year and a half now -- and even tried to do it this exact time last year, but ended up getting lost on my drive to City Island and, GPS-less (my phone was having network issues), completely alone in a big city, and sleep deprived, I gave up on everything and went to crash at my hotel before starting the drive back to NC.
But this year, it finally happened. I decided to still drive myself up there, because I love road trips, only this time I brought along my mom and our friend Gale and we kind of made it a whole "Northern Adventure," stopping at a different place in each state on our way to and from New York. I had every last thing planned to the tee, but you know how these things go. Wednesday morning we were happily driving and chatting, having crossed over into Virginia maybe an hour before, when we were merged onto by an 18-wheeler.
Not even kidding.
THE WORST wreck I've ever been in in my life, and miraculously we all three walked away from it without one scratch, break, or bend. My car wasn't even as damaged as you might expect from having been literally pushed along the interstate for a quarter of a mile before blowing out two tires. But because it's older, I do expect a complete total. So, that wasn't awesome...
We got a rental and continued on, however, because we had a non-refundable room at Comfort Inn in the Bronx (gorgeous place, btw). And of course, not that I'm blowing off the accident, because I have already cried MANY tears over my car by this point, but that doesn't actually have anything to do with Bobby.... so I'll save all my mourning on this count for myself, and bring you guys what I promised to deliver. It just bears to be mentioned, though.
So we managed to do all my "Bobby-ing" on Thursday, and let me tell you, it was one break-neck day. There was alot to see and do, but we did it, and it all started by my being completely unready to wake up at 7am to prepare for the drive from the hotel to City Island. I'm sure I had a little PTSD from last year when I ended up so lost, but this year I had a better phone and people to help me, so I pushed myself up, got ready, and we ended up leaving the hotel about 8:10am. The GPS said it was about a 30 minute drive, but I was not taking any chances, and would have left even earlier if people had been ready.
Traffic, as you can imagine for that time of morning, was RUTHLESS, and my sweet little Southern self had to learn very quickly that in New York, one doesn't merely wait to be let in when merging lanes. One has to pretty much brutally CLAIM it, and starting nosing in. Once I learned this, I was fine driving there, but was absolutely paranoid the entire commute that I'd be late. But I wasn't, and we pulled down to the dock in City Island at 8:50am.
City Island is the sweetest little place, by the way. Very small-town, very quaint. Mom and Gale opted to explore the shops and diners while I went on my visit to Hart Island, and they were not at all disappointed. If Bobby's lying in this corner of the world, I thought, I already feel at peace.
Here are some pics from that excursion, just to give you an idea.
Now, onto my actual visit, what I'm sure people have been waiting for me to finally get down to.
When I was dropped off at the dock, I was met by only a handful of other people. Two ladies who were together carried a bouquet of flowers, but no one else seemed to have brought anything. I myself had my sunflower bouquet and two painted rocks, one from me (the one with the balloons) and one in honor of a good friend, Jim Foster, who's been a fan of Bobby's pretty much since Day One and would actually be Bobby's age. I painted a picture of a film reel on his rock, because movies are his passion, and he was inspired by Bobby's film career.
This was the dock, and the ferry.
At the gate, we met the captain, who was a very sweet gentleman who seemed to feel a passion and purpose for his job. He talked to us briefly before we started, explaining a few things about Hart Island that most of us who love Bobby probably already know from having researched the island before -- that's it's a potter's field in operation since the 1800's, how people come to be on the island through city burial, etc.
After this, while we were walking to the ferry, I couldn't resist complimenting one girl on her cat-print sweater dress and newsprint leggings. She thanked me, then asked if I was a member of the New York Adventure Club. Apparently, most of the people with us were, and came along just to sight-see and learn about the island.
So we signed in, showed our ID's, and boarded the ferry. Anyone reading who has researched gazebo visits to Hart Island probably notices one missing step -- having our electronic devices locked away prior to leaving. Well.... that's because it didn't happen. Upon noticing this, I asked the captain if things had changed and pictures were now allowed to be taken on the island, but he said no -- it's just that he likes to go more on the "good faith" system instead of taking people's items away from them. He just asks that visitors respectfully not take pictures. I told him I totally understood, so... I'm afraid I don't have any pictures for you all other than these taken from the dock, and I'm sorry about that. But I'll try to be really descriptive!
Here's a photo Mom took of us boarding the ferry, so you can see just how few people there were. I have to admit, I was thrilled to have found such pretty sunflowers to take there....
This pic taken by my Mom, again. There, on your right, is Hart Island, and the ferry. It shows you just how close it is to City Island.
Sweet.
Not at all scary, foreboding, depressing, etc. like you always hear. When we got there, we walked a short path to the "garden" area, which was a small white gate surrounding the gazebo, a bird bath, a couple of pine trees, and the famous Potter's Field stone which was itself set in a sort of mini-garden framed by rocks. A few of the condemned buildings could be seen in the distance, and truth be told, it was rather picturesque. I hope maybe one day photography will be allowed on Hart Island, and someone who has talent with a camera can convey the proper sense of bittersweet serenity for the public.
After reaching the gazebo, we all sat down on the benches for people who had them to ask questions and to listen to the captain talk about the place. I didn't really have anything to ask, and therefore sat quietly in the back, half-listening and just soaking in the atmosphere... wondering in which direction Bobby was laid to rest. It's impossible to tell because when we look at this map, we can't even see where the 1960's trenches are. I have a yen they may be on that bottom, slightly right-from-center shoulder that sticks out the farthest, and I have this long complicated reason why I think that (I have obviously given this some thought!). But there's no reason to elaborate on it here because it's all just a theory, and I could be just as wrong.
The captain -- also a prison warden for Riker's Island -- stated that, to his knowledge, burial plots have never been reused on Hart Island. However, I know that a retired prison guard reported that they have, so it's something we may never know because no two people seem to agree.
I wondered if Bobby would be mentioned at all, and he kind of was! A man asked if anyone famous had been buried in the island, and the captain answered, "Well.... there was an old black and white Disney child actor that ended up here, um... I can't remember his name..."
Upon waiting a moment to see if the name would surface, I couldn't help myself, and murmured "Bobby Driscoll."
The captain thanked me and said yes, that's right! He had evidently done his research at some point.
Then, after he showed us a map of the various buildings on Hart Island and their previous functions, he came quietly over to me and said I could put down my flowers and rocks anywhere in the enclosure I wanted to. He then asked me if I knew about the actual family visits -- after which I told him I wasn't a family member -- I assume because I was one of the only people carrying momentos to lay down.
So that's when I had my time, and it was glorious. It took me a minute to decide on the perfect place to lay down my sunflower bouquet, finally laying it against the Potter's Field rock enclosure. I know it won't be there forever, probably not even until next month, as he said (upon my asking) that they do clear the momentos from time to time in order to mow and keep the place looking nice. I also interwove my painted rocks in with the other plain ones in the border, hoping that they would be out of the way and therefore, perhaps, left longer.
As I stood there, thinking about the heartbreaking circumstances Bobby had endured, feeling pierced to the heart at the thought that it all ended in him being brought here to be buried in a pine box as John Doe... my sorrow turned to peace. I don't think this was what he would have picked for the end of his life, obviously. But I somehow knew, as I stood on that spot of land, that he is happy where he is now and knows he is loved. The breeze was gentle, the sun was out, and the island wasn't so far from "civilization" after all. It felt tranquil... but not eerie and dismal, as we've so often heard it is.
I am so incredibly grateful for this experience, and that -- after a year and a half of planning -- I was finally able to stand on the soil Bobby sleeps under. The relief that washed over me as I set foot on that island, thinking back over all the many obstacles I've pushed through just to do this, was unparalleled.
I wish a Hart Island visit for everyone who truly loves the man. I obviously very much wish it for his family, who will get to go even farther and stand closer to his grave, and may receive the closure they so deserve after a lifetime of heartache. And I wish it for those of us who just ended up -- accidentally or otherwise -- connected in spirit to this remarkable person.
And if you plan to go, let me encourage you to paint rocks! Maybe if enough "Bobby Rocks" make their way over to the garden, they'll keep them there to create a memorial all their own.
Stay tuned for Pt. 2 about the East Village! It'll have more pictures....
.jpeg)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please always be kind and respectful to each other :)