Saying that I'm not a big Christmas person is a bit of an understatement- no one really does what they want to do, they do what they feel the must do because it's Christmas. I despise Christmas music and find that the "Happy Holidays versus Merry Christmas" dispute is so completely nauseating it's actually funny. There is, however, one little thing I will fess up to liking and that is the poem "The Night Before Christmas." Many years ago I met an elderly man and his wife who used to do a hilarious performance of this piece and, ever since then, it has become a favorite of mine.
Allegedly written by Clement Clark Moore, the piece is also attributed to Henry Livingston. The first was a bit of a stuffy guy, son of the Episcopal Bishop of New York and member of the family that owned much of what is now Chelsea. The latter, more of a fun loving guy whom I know very little about. So we'll focus of the first for this entry.
Mr. Moore is rumored to haunt the old Church of St. Luke's in the Fields, located at 187 Hudson St. He was originally buried there, before a rift in the congregation caused it to split. The descendants moved their church up to 155th Street and Broadway, taking along some of the bodies interred in the adjacent cemetery. Somehow, sightings of his ghost at 187 Hudson continued after that.
So, in the spirt of the holiday, I thought I'd stop by and say hello to the ghost of Clement Clark Moore. Walking up from the Chamber St. subway station, it was a breezy walk north, in unseasonably warm weather. Walking through Tribeca, the streets were pretty much devoid of people. A random dog walker or two every few blocks.
Once we arrived at the 181 block, we came to discover that 187 no longer exists. On the site, lofts and apartments of considerable expense take up the entire block. No grave yard, no church, no nothing. I consider a brisk walk up to 155th, but only for a minute. The sun is setting, it's getting chilly and, after all, it is the night before Christmas.
