The Tale of 'The Golden Swan'
And Getting to Heaven...by way of Hell
Today didn’t go the way I thought it would.
But why would it?
Things rarely do.
And yet, somehow, it went better than expected. And along the way, I discovered a few things…
It started as I walked from the NYU Catholic Center to St. Joseph’s on 6th Ave. I was photographing two Ash Wednesday Masses celebrated by the Dominican Friars. The air was crisp, the streets alive with the restless rhythm of the city. As I made my way up 4th Street, something caught my eye—a sign.
Golden Swan Garden.
It hung on an iron fence surrounding a small park, clean and unassuming.
I laughed out loud.
Because once upon a time, the Golden Swan Garden was no garden. It was a bar.
And not just any bar—a dive, at best.
Locals in the early 1900s had a more colorful name for it:
The Hell Hole.
It was a place of strong drink, stronger personalities, and little virtue. A magnet for artists, radicals, and poets—including Servant of God Dorothy Day and her drinking companion, the playwright Eugene O’Neill.
And yet, despite its reputation, the Hell Hole may have played a distinct role in Dorothy Day’s path to sainthood.
Not because of any virtue it held, but because of where it stood.
Heaven from Hell
As I turned from West 4th onto 6th Avenue, I noticed something striking—
From where the Hell Hole once stood, you can see the façade of St. Joseph’s Church.
You could see Heaven from Hell.
It’s been said that in those early morning hours, as the bar emptied out and night blurred into dawn, Dorothy Day would watch.
She’d see the workers, the immigrants, the weary souls quietly slipping into St. Joseph’s for Mass.
And something about it drew her in.
She was restless. Searching for meaning. Aching for justice in a tumultuous age.
And when she finally encountered Christ, she took everything she had—her gifts, her fire, her fight—and gave it all to Him.
She became an instrument of mercy, a voice for the voiceless, a living witness of Christ’s radical love for the poor.
"Our hearts are restless until they find rest in You."
St. Augustine’s words.
But they could have just as easily been Dorothy Day’s.
Or yours.
Or mine.
Ashes, Renewal, and the Call of Lent
And now, Lent begins again.
A season that calls every restless heart—to surrender, to reflect, to return.
At the NYU Catholic Center, Fr. Vincent Bernard, O.P., preached to a standing-room-only chapel, calling Lent “a season of grace, a season of renewal.”
And once again, the Dominican Friars—the new custodians of St. Joseph’s—opened their doors wide. They welcomed all who entered, embracing them with the arms of Christ’s mercy.
Meanwhile, the Hell Hole is long gone—paved over into a garden and a basketball court.
But St. Joseph’s still stands.
A beacon of hope in a city that, at times, seems hellbent on its own moral destruction.
An icon of Christ’s unfailing love for each and every one of us.
And a reminder that Grace will always prevail.
Aaaaand a few photos of Ash Wednesday in Greenwich Village (The reason I was actually there :-)
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