I have been drawn to this statue of General Henry Warner Slocum at Grand Army Plaza for a long time. I use to walk my dogs by him almost every day. In the winter he is clearly visible, but as soon as spring comes he disappears into the overgrowth of trees, shrubs and weeds. Slocum fought for the Union at Bull Run, in the Carolinas and at Gettysburg. Slocum’s name also haunts me, and the city, for other reasons. In the Middle Collegiate Church in the East Village, where I was a minister, I often sat and read a list hundreds of names written on the wall. The names come from the disaster of the Steamship Slocum, named after the general, an excursion vessel that caught fire in the East River in June 1904, killing over a thousand German immigrants, the greatest NYC death toll in one day before the events of 9/11/01. The names on the church wall were of all of the children and most of the families of the church who all died that day on the way to a picnic. Most people visiting or even members of the church take little notice, and those walking by General Slocum see only the green leaves of the overgrown park.