New York City, New York State //
Dark days
Amongst the shadows in Manhattan's Freedom tunnel
Date September 2009
Posted November 2010
Posted November 2010
The entrance when we finally found it was inconspicuous and direct, delivering both of us in a small avalanche of dirt onto the ballast beside the track. Our eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness, and then we could see two pairs of shiny rails stretching off in both directions. Illuminated every so often by daylight streaming in from vents in the roof and opposite wall, these lines carry Amtrak trains from Manhattan's Penn Station underneath the west side of the borough and up through Harlem. So here we stood in silence contemplating what we might find in this place - the infamous 'Freedom Tunnel' - subject of Marc Singer's award-winning film 'Dark Days'. If you haven't watched this then I strongly suggest that you beg, borrow or steal a copy.
Context is everything. If it wasn't then this would just be a dusty railway tunnel running beneath the New York City streets and would be of minimal interest. True, the covered void is somewhat different to how it was 15 years ago, but the story it holds within it's confines is both unique and touching.
From the early eighties until 1991 the tunnel was disused, virtually abandoned by the rail companies but soon taken over by a group of people, mysteriously dubbed the 'Mole People'. Living in a loose-knit community these were people fed up with life on the streets, preferring to live in the relative shelter of the tunnels. At various times they built houses from wood and salvaged building materials, rigged-up electricity and running water. Some took drugs, some kept pets. Watching Marc's amazing documentary reveals that all of them had their own story.
During the early nineties Amtrak re-opened the tunnel and began forcing the residents to leave. Many by this time had lived there for years, becoming comfortable and even happy with their existence below the Manhattan streets. Negotiations with various officials led to some of the people from the tunnel receiving housing and a new start in life. The story though is better followed through the film and it's accompanying extras.
For those curious about the hidden areas of any city the tunnel was always going to prove intriguing. Well-known New York writer and adventurer Steve D has explored the tunnel on various occasions. Definitely worth a read is the story about his first time in the tunnel, which you can find here. Steve describes the murals he found, created by Chris 'Freedom' Pape, the artist from whom the tunnel takes it's unofficial name:
Some of the only murals left undisturbed were the giant black, white, and silver paintings done in the 1980s by a painter named "Freedom." The murals range from about ten to twenty feet tall, and were pained with the help of a ladder. They range from a Dali-style melting clock, dripping its way down the wall, to a replica of a Ted Williams baseball card, to huge portraits of tunnel residents that are now long-gone. Freedom first found his way into the tunnel when he was 14, and visited constantly for years, making friends with the residents and creating the murals specifically for them, his only audience. These murals have a tremendous impact when they suddenly appear in the beam of a flashlight, the faces gleaming like an old albumen photographic print.
Most famous of all is probably the 'American Way' mural shown below, which includes a dedication to deceased writer Sane.
Freedom's story is perhaps almost as interesting as that of the Mole People, as it looks back at a distinctive time in the cultural history of NYC and the golden era of graf in the transit tunnels and on the trains themselves. If you're one of those who prefer bare, boring concrete to colourful paintings then presumably you won't see anything in these works. Thankfully though, even other writers do, almost 30 years on. As various people have observed, Freedom's murals in the Amtrak tunnel have largely gone untampered with, indicating the high regard in which they are held.
There are some words from Freedom himself at subwayoutlaws.com. Here he talks about the tunnel:
I started painting in the Freedom tunnel back in 1974 with a lot of the old acid writers, I went back in in 1980
to paint the Mona Lisa, at the same time Ali was restoring the old Soul Artist's wall which was two blocks away, so we kept checking up on what each other was doing. As I kept painting down there through the early 80's Chris was usually helping me out, few people know that. Years later Smith was a great help to me and rarely gets enough credit for it. He's the one that dubbed it the Freedom tunnel. That was a nice 16 year run, and I think cemented my reputation in the graff world, whatever that reputation is.
The photo below shows the 'Unabomber piece', a painting of notorious NYC mail bomber Ted Kaczynski by Freedom. The second is a 1982 self-portrait with a spray-can superimposed for a head, which is shown in the Henry Chalfont/James Prigoff book Spraycan Art.
Aside from the artwork there is plenty of evidence that visitors to the tunnel are frequent. Some way down the tunnel there was an old bicycle, artistically propped up below one of the vents. From above could be heard the sounds of people in the park, the distant mumur broken suddenly by a young child's voice descending into the tunnel: "Mmomm! Mom! I can see two tracks!". The mother humoured her son, who continued his observations:
"Mom! There's a bike down there!"
"Really? Down in the tunnel?"
"Yes!! Look! How did it get down there Mom?!"
"Maybe someone lives down there?"
"You think so?"
"Why don't you shout down and see if anyone replies?"
By now I was trying not to laugh, just out of view in the shadows. And then the boy shouted down as loudly as he could: "Is anyone down there??!". I was in stitches and looked at dsankt who was nearly doubled-up - what should we say? Then ds composed himself, mustered the most gravelly creepy voice he could and boomed: "Ye-esssssss...."
All was silent. Mother no doubt in more surprise than her boy, himself probably to remember the time the voices in the tunnel spoke to him for as long as he lives. About half a minute later he called down again, but not wanting to spoil the illusion the pair of us crept around the edge of the sunlit ballast and silently continued along the tunnel.
Being an active railway tunnel, trains do of course pass through. Steve D had advised ds on an earlier trip through the tunnel to 'try to look like trash' whenever one should come thundering through. We did so whenever an alcove wasn't available, and so avoided being seen. As we moved further towards Penn station I began to wonder if anyone still lived in the tunnel. An oncoming train led to an answer for this question. Together we stumbled up a short flight of steps to take shelter, and shoved open a door into a small electrical switchroom. On the floor a homeless guy had set up his abode and didn't seem to notice our intrusion. Not wanting to disturb him we watched the train pass and dropped back into the tunnel.
Lots of rubbish is strewn down the sides of the tunnel, but the homes of the Mole People are long gone. Those who do choose to live there today are few and far between, and do so by themselves. Nearing where daylight from the park and a construction site pours into the darkness before the last stretch to Penn, we became aware of someone behind us, perhaps 100m away. Lumbering along in the same direction, maybe it was the same man from the switchroom, or another hobo who'd watched us pass in silence. Either way it felt good to be getting out, back where we could see and breath again.
Context is everything. If it wasn't then this would just be a dusty railway tunnel running beneath the New York City streets and would be of minimal interest. True, the covered void is somewhat different to how it was 15 years ago, but the story it holds within it's confines is both unique and touching.
From the early eighties until 1991 the tunnel was disused, virtually abandoned by the rail companies but soon taken over by a group of people, mysteriously dubbed the 'Mole People'. Living in a loose-knit community these were people fed up with life on the streets, preferring to live in the relative shelter of the tunnels. At various times they built houses from wood and salvaged building materials, rigged-up electricity and running water. Some took drugs, some kept pets. Watching Marc's amazing documentary reveals that all of them had their own story.
During the early nineties Amtrak re-opened the tunnel and began forcing the residents to leave. Many by this time had lived there for years, becoming comfortable and even happy with their existence below the Manhattan streets. Negotiations with various officials led to some of the people from the tunnel receiving housing and a new start in life. The story though is better followed through the film and it's accompanying extras.
For those curious about the hidden areas of any city the tunnel was always going to prove intriguing. Well-known New York writer and adventurer Steve D has explored the tunnel on various occasions. Definitely worth a read is the story about his first time in the tunnel, which you can find here. Steve describes the murals he found, created by Chris 'Freedom' Pape, the artist from whom the tunnel takes it's unofficial name:
Some of the only murals left undisturbed were the giant black, white, and silver paintings done in the 1980s by a painter named "Freedom." The murals range from about ten to twenty feet tall, and were pained with the help of a ladder. They range from a Dali-style melting clock, dripping its way down the wall, to a replica of a Ted Williams baseball card, to huge portraits of tunnel residents that are now long-gone. Freedom first found his way into the tunnel when he was 14, and visited constantly for years, making friends with the residents and creating the murals specifically for them, his only audience. These murals have a tremendous impact when they suddenly appear in the beam of a flashlight, the faces gleaming like an old albumen photographic print.
Most famous of all is probably the 'American Way' mural shown below, which includes a dedication to deceased writer Sane.
Freedom's story is perhaps almost as interesting as that of the Mole People, as it looks back at a distinctive time in the cultural history of NYC and the golden era of graf in the transit tunnels and on the trains themselves. If you're one of those who prefer bare, boring concrete to colourful paintings then presumably you won't see anything in these works. Thankfully though, even other writers do, almost 30 years on. As various people have observed, Freedom's murals in the Amtrak tunnel have largely gone untampered with, indicating the high regard in which they are held.
There are some words from Freedom himself at subwayoutlaws.com. Here he talks about the tunnel:
I started painting in the Freedom tunnel back in 1974 with a lot of the old acid writers, I went back in in 1980
to paint the Mona Lisa, at the same time Ali was restoring the old Soul Artist's wall which was two blocks away, so we kept checking up on what each other was doing. As I kept painting down there through the early 80's Chris was usually helping me out, few people know that. Years later Smith was a great help to me and rarely gets enough credit for it. He's the one that dubbed it the Freedom tunnel. That was a nice 16 year run, and I think cemented my reputation in the graff world, whatever that reputation is.
The photo below shows the 'Unabomber piece', a painting of notorious NYC mail bomber Ted Kaczynski by Freedom. The second is a 1982 self-portrait with a spray-can superimposed for a head, which is shown in the Henry Chalfont/James Prigoff book Spraycan Art.
Aside from the artwork there is plenty of evidence that visitors to the tunnel are frequent. Some way down the tunnel there was an old bicycle, artistically propped up below one of the vents. From above could be heard the sounds of people in the park, the distant mumur broken suddenly by a young child's voice descending into the tunnel: "Mmomm! Mom! I can see two tracks!". The mother humoured her son, who continued his observations:
"Mom! There's a bike down there!"
"Really? Down in the tunnel?"
"Yes!! Look! How did it get down there Mom?!"
"Maybe someone lives down there?"
"You think so?"
"Why don't you shout down and see if anyone replies?"
By now I was trying not to laugh, just out of view in the shadows. And then the boy shouted down as loudly as he could: "Is anyone down there??!". I was in stitches and looked at dsankt who was nearly doubled-up - what should we say? Then ds composed himself, mustered the most gravelly creepy voice he could and boomed: "Ye-esssssss...."
All was silent. Mother no doubt in more surprise than her boy, himself probably to remember the time the voices in the tunnel spoke to him for as long as he lives. About half a minute later he called down again, but not wanting to spoil the illusion the pair of us crept around the edge of the sunlit ballast and silently continued along the tunnel.
Being an active railway tunnel, trains do of course pass through. Steve D had advised ds on an earlier trip through the tunnel to 'try to look like trash' whenever one should come thundering through. We did so whenever an alcove wasn't available, and so avoided being seen. As we moved further towards Penn station I began to wonder if anyone still lived in the tunnel. An oncoming train led to an answer for this question. Together we stumbled up a short flight of steps to take shelter, and shoved open a door into a small electrical switchroom. On the floor a homeless guy had set up his abode and didn't seem to notice our intrusion. Not wanting to disturb him we watched the train pass and dropped back into the tunnel.
Lots of rubbish is strewn down the sides of the tunnel, but the homes of the Mole People are long gone. Those who do choose to live there today are few and far between, and do so by themselves. Nearing where daylight from the park and a construction site pours into the darkness before the last stretch to Penn, we became aware of someone behind us, perhaps 100m away. Lumbering along in the same direction, maybe it was the same man from the switchroom, or another hobo who'd watched us pass in silence. Either way it felt good to be getting out, back where we could see and breath again.
