The Raunt

Beneath the crisscrossing girders of the A train, a ghost whispers. This ghost is The Raunt, a forgotten village that once danced on stilts above Jamaica Bay. The Raunt wasn’t always a ghost. Imagine, in the late 1800s, a cluster of buildings emerging from the marshland, their reflections shimmering in the shallows. The Raunt, named after the channel that embraced it, was born from the arrival of the New York, Woodhaven and Rockaway Railroad in 1880. The railway, which later became the LIRR and now the A train, breathed life into this isolated island. Hotels like Sehey’s East Side Hotel and O’Sullivan’s beckoned visitors to this unique bay colony. Wooden walkways, like veins connecting a heart to its limbs, linked the homes, businesses, and fishing stations that dotted the landscape. The Raunt pulsed with activity. At its peak, The Raunt boasted nearly one hundred leases. Families lived here, businesses thrived, and a community flourished in this unlikely setting. Life wasn’t always easy. Fresh water was a precious commodity, often brought in by boat or train. Before modern plumbing, rainwater was collected from rooftops tilted to channel the flow into storage barrels. The soft glow of oil lamps and candles illuminated the nights, creating a magical atmosphere against the backdrop of the bay. The Raunt was more than just a collection of buildings; it was a tight-knit community. Residents shared the challenges and triumphs of island life. They even formed a council with other bay colonies, like Broad Channel and Goose Creek, to voice their concerns about city taxes and lack of services. But progress, like the relentless tide, eventually swept over The Raunt. The rise of Cross Bay Road in the mid-1920s brought easier access to the mainland, but it also signaled the beginning of the end for this quirky bay colony. A devastating fire in 1931 further diminished The Raunt’s vitality. By 1953, only a handful of leases remained, a ghostly reminder of a once-vibrant community. The final blow came when Robert Moses, the powerful New York City parks commissioner, ordered The Raunt’s demolition. Today, the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge occupies the land where The Raunt once stood. As you ride the A train, look out the window as you pass Broad Channel. Imagine the bustling village that once existed just north of there, its buildings reaching towards the sky, connected by a network of wooden walkways. The Raunt may be gone, but its story echoes in the gentle lapping of the waves against the pilings that still remain, a silent testament to a community that once called this unique corner of New York City home.