This burnt-out pier was sitting in the Hudson, around 65th Street, like a rusty giant whale, without purpose, and especially attractive for that reason. It was a sculpture shaped not be a sculptor but by a monstrous fire that few recall.
When I moved into the neighborhood, four and a half years ago, I loved the fact that the old pier was left where it was, testament to the free spirit of the City. But then, sometime in 2011, someone in the Parks Department decided that the sculpture posed a hazard, and giant cranes and a whole army of workers with blow-torches moved in and cut it into pieces within a couple of days.
I cringed at the time. I walked around with bitterness and nostalgia. "A hazard to whom?" I kept saying. "A hazard to what?"
Now there are only pictures left.