Grand Central could easily be considered the most beautiful building complex in New York City. Built between 1903 and 1913, Grand Central Terminal replaced a previous railroad depot called Grand Central Station — to repeat all the other snotty articles on the subject, it is now technically a terminal and not a station, as it’s the terminating point for the railroad lines. But everyone calls it Grand Central Station anyway, and popular usage generally prevails.
A full history of the building is a bit beyond the scope of this blog (for today, at least); we are going to focus on the famous clock and sculptures overlooking the side of the building facing Park Avenue South.
From Wikipedia’s article on the Grand Central Terminal:
Outside the station, the clock in front of the Grand Central facade facing 42nd Street contains the world’s largest example of Tiffany glass and is surrounded by sculptures carved by the John Donnelly Company of Minerva, Hercules, and Mercury. For the terminal building, French sculptor Jules-Felix Coutan created what was at the time of its unveiling (1914) considered to be the largest sculptural group in the world. It was 48 feet (14.6 m) high, the clock in the center having a circumference of 13 feet (4 m).
Jules-Felix Coutan was a student and later a teacher at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, and an 1872 winner of the Prix de Rome. He designed a quarter-scale plaster model of the scultures between 1911 and 1914, but he never visited the US to see the finished project for himself. All in a day’s work, I guess.
Mercury is a Roman god and sometimes the better-known pseudonym of the Greek Hermes. He’s an odd figure; in mythology he plays the role of the trickster and messenger of the gods, and in the middle ages he was very popular with alchemists (the Freemasons love him). His significance in this sculpture is his position as a god of travel and commerce.
He traditionally carries a caduceus, which is a herald’s staff entwined with snakes in a double helix. It is very often confused with the rod of Asclepius, which is more or less the same thing only with a single serpent, since both symbols are used to signify medicine. If you look closely, you will see these particular snakes have tiny faces.
I don’t know why Mercury has an eagle here — in Greek/Roman mythology eagles are usually associated with Zeus/Jupiter in his boy-raping form. I’m guessing it’s just meant to be sort of generically American in this case.
Everyone knows who Hercules is, so I will just say that I find this depiction of him unusual. He looks really scrawny next to the gloriously built Mercury. He is surrounded with gears and mallets and I guess signifies good ol’ American hard work or something. I’m… not really sure, so let’s move on.
And here we have Minerva again! The last time we saw Minerva she was in Herald Square decked out in snakes and horses. Today she seems a lot more chill. Almost asleep, in fact. And she’s obviously feeling a bit nippy, but so are Mercury and Hercules! Yes, I am very observant and also mature.
She’s a goddess of wisdom and strategic warfare, and here she is surrounded by books and globes and other accouterments of the educated class. So I supposed taken together she and Hercules represent the hard-working blue collar New Yorker and book-learned white collar citizen, or whatever the turn-of-the-century equivalents of those ideas were.
All in all, they make sort of an odd trio. But they sure as heck make sure you know the time.
The full photo set is here.