Ghost of Robert F. Wagner Submits Impact Statement via Ouija Board at 14-Hour Public

Last Tuesday, Stuyvesant High School hosted a town hall to address the South Battery Park Resiliency Project’s proposed demolition of Robert F. Wagner Park as part of its climate preparedness initiative. The town hall attracted leaders and community activists from around the city, including the spectral presence of the late Senator Robert F. Wagner (1877-1953) himself.

While concerned citizens debated how green space could be preserved within the proposed network of floodwalls, how to maintain access to the Museum of Jewish Heritage, and a host of other issues, the late Senator Wagner arrived from the “Other Side” with a more focused agenda.

Mid-discussion, a wooden prism broke through a window, breaking through the glass before settling in the middle of the crowd, revealing itself to be an Ouija board. Hushed onlookers watched it intently: “N” (pause) - “A” (pause) - “M” (pause) - “D” - followed by an eerie silence.

“What is ‘NAMD’?” asked Deputy Borough President Margaret Jones, which provoked a flickering of lights and a chill in the air, before the planchette circled the word “NO” four times and began repeating the same pattern with increasing urgency.

“N-A-M-E-N-A-M-E-N-A-M-E-N-A-M-E - ! “

Over the next 10 hours, the late senator gradually spelled out—letter-by-letter—a number of concerns, mostly attacking the destruction of his namesake park, but also how no one appreciated all the good he had done for New York, various long-standing grievances with Mayor Abe Beame (1906-2001), and how 3-1-1 was doing nothing about the noisy food cart across the street from his mausoleum in Queens’ Calvary Cemetery.

The meeting became heated, with Wagner’s ghost very, very slowly accusing city officials of being “D-U-N-D-E-R- H-E-A-D-E-D-G-U-T-T-E-R-S-N-I-P-E-S,” among other insults dating from the early-20th century. Wagner’s ghost grew increasingly agitated as it realized every park, city building, and bridge name were spoken for by other dead, forgotten New York politicians.

“E-A-S-T-R-I-V-E-R-P-A-R-K-?”

“Uh, John Lindsey…”

“Q-U-E-E-N-S-B-O-R-O-B-R-I-D-G-E-?”

“You mean the Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge?”

Negotiations broke down shortly after 3 a.m. when the chair suggested reconvening the following week at the Javits Center.

“?-?-?-C-E-N-T-E-R-!-!-!”

“Uh, Javits Center?” ventured Mayor Eric Adams, referring to the 800 thousand square foot New York landmark named in honor of Wagner’s longtime rival, Congressman Jacob Javits (1904-1986).

With that, the lights in the auditorium went dark and the planchette flew across the auditorium, narrowly missing the mayor. The town hall was swiftly concluded, and officials prepared for the next meeting, which would discuss expelling the troll from under the Queensboro Bridge.