Yesterday in 1804 was the day that, in a duel, Alexander Hamilton was shot by Aaron Burr. Today he died from his wounds. “Hamilton” is one of the most popular and successful musicals that ever appeared on Broadway; it’s rap-like music is loved by young and old. I never saw “Hamilton,” but knowing my taste in musicals, I’ll probably be the only person who didn’t fall head over heals in love with it. I hated “Cats,” walked out of “Rent,” and still love my classic ones like “Oklahoma!” and “West Side Story.”
But I did see “In the Heights,” also by Lin-Manuel Miranda. That I liked! And when I saw the official poster for the musical, I recognized the view. It is the George Washington Bridge from a certain point on 181st Street in Manhattan, one of Washington Heights’ main drags. I’m from Washington Heights – lovingly called “The Heights” – and I can tell you that in my day (I n e v e r thought I’d e v e r use that phrase) there was a completely different cultural look to that Manhattan neighborhood.
There were three predominant groups in the Heights back then: German Jewish refugees, Irish, and Hispanic. Except when I got beat up by three Irish guys, almost losing my left eye, there was no contact. Well, considering how often the Jews I knew got beat up by them, there was plenty of contact. Many Jewish kids were pounced upon by the Irish teens who heard from their often first-generation parents what we supposedly did to their savior. I can honestly tell you that the relationship between the Jews (probably all whites) and Hispanics was just fine; and neither I nor any of my schoolmates had confrontations with African-Americans. I did learn one thing. Among Hispanics in the Heights, and probably elsewhere, there is a pecking-order with Dominicans leading the way. Always at the bottom (and a number of people told me this over a relatively long period of time) are the Puerto Ricans.
The Heights is geographically divided. It begins on 155th Street and Broadway separated east and west. The east side all the way to the end of the Heights was predominantly Hispanic. For all intents and purposes, south of 155th Street was considered Harlem though it technically was Morningside Heights. My synagogue was on 161st Street between Broadway and Fort Washington Avenue. There were many Jewish families who lived in the lower part of the Heights and affiliated with this liberal congregation, but because its major demographic was those Holocaust refugees, German Jews came from all over the Heights to “our” Temple, the Hebrew Tabernacle of Washington Heights, still a force, though it moved in the mid-1970s to 185th Street. Those Reform Jews who were not of my persuasion (namely, the “American” ones who thought their ancestors had come here on the Mayflower) had a Reform congregation in the middle part of the Heights. That went out of business once the Port Authority complex was built, but that’s another story. The middle part of the Heights begins on 168th Street and runs to 181st Street; above that point to about 205th Street is the upper Heights, and beyond that is Inwood.
My ties to the Heights diminished when I went off to rabbinical school. Having lived at home in my college years (Hunter College in the Bronx, now Lehman College, affiliated with the CUNY group of colleges), my friends remained my friends as they too didn’t leave their homestead. And then in the late 1970s I came back to my parents’ apartment (they had moved but still within the Heights) each week to spend Tuesday nights in the Grumbacher Hilton as I pursued certification in pastoral counseling, then again in the early ‘90s when I attended the Social Work graduate program of Yeshiva University. Other than that, and with the death of my parents, my ties to the Heights ended.
There is a post-script. My elementary school classmates have this list-serve and every now and then someone offers information pertaining to the Heights. It has become a rather “in” place in Manhattan. There is a hotel (be still my beating heart), and so many improvements have been made in the middle section that a portion of it has officially been renamed Hudson Heights. PAHHHHHdon me!
(Speaking of the very few bageleries we had in the Heights, a customer goes into a bakery and this is the conversation…” How much are the bagels?” “Forty cents for two,” “How much for one?” “Twenty-five cents.” “Then I’ll have the other one.”)