Before tunnels and suspension bridges connected New York's boroughs, ferries were the lifeblood of the city. Thousands of New Yorkers crossed the rivers daily for work, shopping, and visits home. These sturdy boats were as essential to getting around as today's subways.
You push onto the wooden deck with dozens of others, the smell of salt water and coal smoke in the air. The ferry's whistle blasts as it lurches forward, and you grip the rail, watching Manhattan's skyline grow larger. Around you, men in suits, women with parcels, children clutching their parents' hands—all crossing together, twice a day, every working day.
Reflect
How does your daily commute compare to crossing a river on a crowded ferry? What do you notice or talk about during your journey?