219th Street is a local station on the IRT White Plains Road Line of the New York City Subway. Located at the intersection of 219th Street and White Plains Road in the Bronx, it is served by the 2 train at all times and the 5 train during rush hours in peak direction.
This elevated station, opened on March 3, 1917 and renovated in mid 2006, has three tracks and two side platforms. The center track is not normally used in revenue service. There is a mechanical room below the northbound platform at its north end that is reachable by a closed-off staircase.
Both platforms have beige windscreens and red canopies with green outlines, frames, and support columns in the center and black, waist-high steel fences at either ends with lampposts at regular intervals. The windscreens have mesh fences at various points. The station signs are in the standard black name plates with white lettering.
This station has one elevated station house beneath the center of the platforms and tracks. Two staircases from each platform go down to a waiting area. The back of the token booth faces this crossunder with a steel fences on either side. On the Wakefield-bound side, there are two exit only turnstiles. On the Manhattan-bound side, there is an emergency gate and a bank of three turnstiles. Outside fare control, two staircases go down to the northwest and southeast corners of 219th Street and White Plains Road. The station house has glass windows.
The 2006 artwork here is called Homage by Joseph D'Alesandro. It consists of stained glass panels on the platform windscreens that depict colors showing certain human emotions and qualities.
There are crossovers and switches between this station and the next station south, Gun Hill Road.
Famous quotes containing the words street, white, plains and/or road:
“What are you now? If we could touch one another,
if these our separate entities could come to grips,
clenched like a Chinese puzzle . . . yesterday
I stood in a crowded street that was live with people,
and no one spoke a word, and the morning shone.
Everyone silent, moving. . . . Take my hand. Speak to me.”
—Muriel Rukeyser (1913–1980)
“I begin with a design for a hearse.
For Christ’s sake not black—
nor white either—and not polished!
Let it be weathered—like a farm wagon—”
—William Carlos Williams (1883–1963)
“The Plains are not forgiving. Anything that is shallow—the easy optimism of a homesteader; the false hope that denies geography, climate, history; the tree whose roots don’t reach ground water—will dry up and blow away.”
—Kathleen Norris (b. 1947)
“At sundown, leaving the river road awhile for shortness, we went by way of Enfield, where we stopped for the night. This, like most of the localities bearing names on this road, was a place to name which, in the midst of the unnamed and unincorporated wilderness, was to make a distinction without a difference, it seemed to me.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)