1902: Tabby Burgmeir, the Butcher’s Cat of Windsor Terrace Who Came Back

Posted: 8th April 2024 by The Hatching Cat in Cat Stories
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Before I tell you this tale of a Windsor Terrace cat who did not want to leave his Brooklyn home, I want to give a shout-out to Jenny Pierson and the other founders of the Cat Museum of NYC.

Yes, New York City is going to have a cat museum! But they need help to become a nonprofit before they can get started establishing this much-anticipated museum.

The goal of the museum is to help the community of New York City’s feral cats and those who care for them through public education. From their website:

New York City is one of the cultural capitals of the world, and our goal is to create a physical institution here (as well as a virtual suite) supporting the work of cat rescuers, no-kill cat shelters, and cat nonprofit organizations. We hope to do this with the help of cat lovers from this city that we love as well as others from around the world.

If you would like to help launch the Cat Museum of NYC, visit catmuseumnyc.org/contact/help-us-launch to find out how. You can also contribute to their PayPal campaign: Help the Cat Museum of NYC to Become a Nonprofit. I will be helping out in this endeavor, so I will keep you posted as we make progress!

The Tale of Tabby Burgmeier

This vintage cat is not Tabby, but I love the double heart markings on his chest!

Tabby didn’t start out as a butcher’s cat. He was just a common house cat who happened to live across the street from a meat market on the southwest corner of Greenwood Avenue and East Fifth Street in the Windsor Terrace neighborhood of Brooklyn. The market, called the Windsor Market, was owned and operated by a German butcher named Louis (aka Lewie) Burgmeier.

Every morning, much to the amusement of the neighborhood residents, Tabby would wait outside the market for Lewie to arrive. While the butcher fiddled with his keys to open the door, Tabby would rub against his legs and meow. Lewie would reward the cat with a few tidbits of meat.

One day in May 1902, the Flint family with whom Tabby lived moved to Dundee, a little town near Passaic, New Jersey. They loved their cat and did not want to leave him in Brooklyn. So they put him in a box with slats and placed the box in the moving van. They gave instructions to the driver to mind the box and its occupant.

As the days went by, Lewie and the other Windsor Terrace residents on Greenwood Avenue and East 5th Street began to forget about Tabby and the cat’s daily ritual. But then about three weeks after Tabby moved, they heard a familiar meow in front of the market.

There was Tabby, waiting for Lewie Burgmeier to open his butcher shop. The butcher reported the story to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle (the reporter included the dialect):

Mein gracious! How did you get here, yet? By jiminy, you doand’t swim, so how you cross bodt rivers, I don’t know. Dit you come by the ferryboat, already?

Tabby spent his mornings at Lewie Burgmeier's butcher shop at 424 Greenwood Avenue in Windsor Terrace, pictured here in 1940. NYC Department of Records tax photos.
Tabby spent his mornings at Lewie Burgmeier’s butcher shop at 424 Greenwood Avenue in Windsor Terrace, pictured here in 1940. NYC Department of Records tax photos.

Everyone agreed that the cat was Tabby, but no one could figure out how the cat traveled the 26 miles from his new home in New Jersey to his old home in Brooklyn. They also disputed whether the box fell off the moving van or was kicked off by the driver. Lewie believed that Tabby simply did not like his new surroundings and so he set off on the long journey to come back to the home he loved.

“It’s goot luck to haf ein cat come to you, so they say, and dat must be right,” Lewie told the news reporter. He said he would never sell the cat or give it away, explaining, “Any cat that will come back twenty-six miles to get a breakfast is goot enough for me, und I keep him right here.”

Following Tabby’s return to Windsor Terrace, he became a celebrity in the neighborhood, especially with the children and the firemen of nearby Engine 40 on Prospect Avenue. They loved the fact that the cat had made his way back home, to a place where he was guaranteed a good meaty meal every day.

Engine 40/Ladder 21 at 1309 Prospect Avenue in Windsor Terrace.
The firemen of Engine 40/Ladder 21 at 1309 Prospect Avenue loved Tabby the cat. This firehouse was built in 1895 on land owned by Anna M. Ferris, who played a big role in the development of Windsor Terrace.

According to census reports, Lewie Burgmeier–who had to support his wife, Caroline, and their seven children–had changed his career and become a photographer by 1910. Hopefully if Tabby was still alive then he was invited to live with the large family and spend the rest of his life in Windsor Terrace.

A Brief History of Windsor Terrace

Windsor Terrace is a residential neighborhood bounded (approximately) by Prospect Park West on the north, Prospect Park SW and Coney Island Avenue on the east, Caton Avenue on the south, and McDonald Avenue on the west. Greenwood Avenue, which runs between Green-Wood Cemetery and Prospect Park, was one of the later roads to be developed in Windsor Terrace.

In the late 1700s through the mid 1800s, the land including and surrounding Windsor Terrace made up the far northwestern corner of the Town of Flatbush. During this time it was farmland owned primarily by John Vanderbilt and members of the Martense family, of which there were four branches. The Lefferts were also landowners in this part of Flatbush.

Following Vanderbilt’s death, his land was divided in two and then sold in 1849 to William Bell, a real estate developer. Bell subdivided the land into 47 building lots, which sold quickly, giving the area the England-inspired name of Windsor.

Bell sold part of the land to Edward Belknap in 1851, who built four streets on which he mapped out 49 lots for future homes called “Pleasant Cottages.” The development was incorporated as the Village of Windsor Terrace.

In March 1884, all the available lots in Windsor Terrace, which then comprised the newly graded Seeley and Vanderbilt Streets, were sold at auction. The property was sold in sections of 6 to 12 lots each. Every cottage built on this land also had a stable.

The most elegant homes were on the hillside overlooking “the whole richly cultivated agricultural plains of Flatbush, with Sandy Hook and Rockaway, the waters of the lower Bay and the Atlantic in the distance.”

Within a few months, Windsor Terrace had about 100 residents and a schoolhouse, and by January 1888, there was even a local fire department at 1288 Prospect Avenue called Windsor Terrace Hose 3.

Because the land on which Tabby lived was located on the old Martense property, I’ll focus on that family.

Much of Greenwood Avenue, including the land where Lewie Burgmeier owned his butcher shop, was not yet developed yet in 1890; only the northern section of Windsor Terrace had been developed at this time.
Much of Greenwood Avenue, including the land where Lewie Burgmeier owned his butcher shop (circled in red), was not yet developed in 1890; only the northern section of Windsor Terrace had been developed at this time. The undeveloped land was owned by Mrs. Anna M. Ferris and Mrs. Jennie V. Wilbur, both descendants of the Martense family. 1890 Robinson map, NYPL Digital Collections.

No one knows for sure, but the Martense family may have owned up to 300 acres of land, including the old parade ground, the southern section off Green-Wood Cemetery, and the southern portion of Prospect Park. The first known member of the family to move to Flatbush was Adrian Reyersz, who emigrated from Amsterdam in 1640. Adrian settled in Flatbush and married Annetje (which means little Annie) Martens, daughter of Martin Roelofse Schenck of Flatlands, in 1659.

One year later, in 1660, Martin Adrianse, the son of Adrian and Annetje, was born. According to Teunis G. Bergen, the children and descendants of Martin Adrianse adopted the last name of Martense, which means son of Martin. One of these descendants was Garrett Lefferts Martense (known as Judge Martense), a farmer and justice of the peace who was at one time the largest landowner in Flatbush.

662-678 Flatbush Avenue, between Hawthorne and Winthrop Streets, just east of Windsor Terrace.
Garrett L. Martense lived in this circa 1840 house at 662-678 Flatbush Avenue, between Hawthorne and Winthrop Streets. (The home was built on the site of a much older home occupied by the Lefferts family.) His youngest daughter, Anna Marie, wife of Rev. Dr. John Mason Ferris, lived here until her death in 1905.
Martense house in 1922, just before it was torn down in 1923
Here is the Martense house in 1922, just before it was torn down in 1923 and replaced with apartment buildings. NYPL Digital Collections

Judge Martense, the son of Leffert Martense and Angelica Cortelyou, was born in 1793. In 1815, he married Jane Vanderveer. The couple had six children, a few who died at a young age. Only one of their surviving children married and had children.

The Martense’s youngest child was Anna Marie, who was born in 1829 in the Lefferts’s old Dutch homestead that Judge Martense later replaced with the ornate mansion pictured above. Anna married Rev. Dr. John Mason Ferris, a minister of the Reformed Church and editor of the “Christian Intelligencer.”

Judge and Jane Martense had two grandchildren, but only one survived long enough to inherit part of the large estate: Mrs. Jane (aka Jennie) Vanderveer Martense. Jennie, the daughter of Garrett Martense and Jane Ditmas, was born in the Martense family house in 1846. Jennie’s other brother, Garrett, died when he was only 23.

Following Jennie’s marriage to Lionel A. Wilbur, a Boston oil merchant, in 1868, Judge Martense had a beautiful house built for the couple next to his house on Flatbush Avenue. (He also built a much less elaborate residence for his son on the other side of the family home.)

Lionel and Jennie Wilbur lived in this circa 1878 house on Flatbush Avenue at Winthrop Street.
Lionel and Jennie Wilbur lived in this house constructed following the Civil War on Flatbush Avenue at Winthrop Street. New-York Historical Society
The Wilbur house on Flatbush Avenue in 1922 as it was being torn down
When this picture was taken in 1922, the Wilbur house was in the process of being destroyed to make way for apartment houses. NYPL Digital Collections

In addition to their homes on Flatbush Avenue, Anna and Jennie (who lost her husband in 1882), owned just over 18 acres of land along Greenwood Avenue (as noted in the map above). The aunt and her niece began selling off their property in 1889.

The first sale on Greenwood Avenue that I could find recorded in the newspapers took place in 1894, when Anna sold a lot at E. 5th Street and Greenwood Avenue to Mary Rooney. Perhaps this was the lot where Lewie Burgmeier and Tabby worked and lived.

Anna Ferris died of kidney problems at her home on Flatbush Avenue in 1905 at the age of 75. Jennie Wilbur died of paralysis in 1913. She left her entire estate of about $280,000 to her daughter, Anna Martense Wilbur, who died at the age of 50 in 1930. They are all buried in Green-Wood Cemetery.

If you enjoyed this story, you may like reading about Minnie, the ship cat who kept coming back.

Sheet music cover for The Cat Came Back, written by Harry S. Miller.
Sheet music cover for The Cat Came Back, written by Harry S. Miller in 1893.

1939: Tommy Tucker, the Riverside Drive Cat Who (Almost) Inherited $5,000

Posted: 23rd March 2024 by The Hatching Cat in Cat Stories, Cats in the Mews
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Tommy Tucker of Riverside Drive and Washington Heights vet Dr. Hirscher, March 1939
Tommy Tucker of Riverside Drive and Dr. Hirscher, March 1939

Tommy Tucker was just an ordinary (and perhaps ornery from the looks of this photo) tabby cat who lived in a large frame home at 1384 Riverside Drive in Washington Heights. His owner, Louise Baier, was an animal-loving woman who shared her home with Tommy and a widowed housekeeper named Katherine Schultz.

Although Ms. Baier was not employed, she did have a wealthy brother, Dr. Victor Baier, who was one time the choir master for Trinity Church. When he died in 1921, Louise inherited one half of his estate and all his jewelry and household items.

Tommy Tucker almost looks as if he's pouting. He made the news in dozens of newspapers across the country.
Tommy Tucker almost looks as if he’s pouting (he looks like Grumpy Cat). He made the news in dozens of newspapers across the country.

When Miss Baier died at the age of 75 on March 6, 1939, she left the bulk of her estate–estimated at about $300,000–to the ASPCA, the Ellin Prince Speyer Hospital for Animals, the New York Women’s League for Animals, and the New York Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. She also bequeathed $15,000 to Miss Schultz and $5,000 to her four-year-old tomcat, Tommy.

Because Tommy couldn’t take care of himself, Miss Baier assigned Dr. Henry L. Hirscher, a veterinarian who operated the Cat and Dog Hospital at 4351 Broadway, as guardian of the cat. Dr. Hischer had always attended to all of Ms. Baier’s cats at her residence (Tommy was the last cat to survive), so he was quite familiar with the grey tiger cat.

Dr. Hirscher owned the Cat and Dog Hospital on Broadway and 186th Street in Hudson Heights. Museum of the City of New York Collections
Dr. Hirscher owned the Cat and Dog Hospital on Broadway and 186th Street in Hudson Heights. Today this is the site of the Mikveh of Washington Heights. Museum of the City of New York Collections

The will also stipulated that should anything happen to Dr. Hirscher, the cat would be sent to the Ellin Prince Speyer Hospital for Animals. The income from the trust would be paid monthly to Dr. Hirscher for Tommy’s care and eventual burial costs. Upon Tommy’s death, any remaining funds would revert to the estate.

Unfortunately for Tommy and Dr. Hirscher, New York County Surrogate Court Judge James A. Delehanty did not find it appropriate for a cat to get an inheritance. The mean judge declared that the disputed trust fund was illegal and that Tommy could no longer collect on it.

According to reporter Eleanor Booth Simmons, Tommy lost his trust fund due to a technicality. According to Simmons, Miss Baier had left the $5,000 to a man named Franklin Hebberd Jr., directing that the sum be held in trust for the cat until Tommy’s death. The weak point was the fact that the trust depended on the cat to keep on living.

This photo of Broadway and 186th Street, opposite the Cat and Dog Hospital, was taken in 1923. MCNY Digital Collections
This photo of Broadway and 186th Street, opposite the Cat and Dog Hospital, was taken in 1923. MCNY Digital Collections

K. Courtenany Johnston, a New York lawyer who liked cats, looked into the matter, as he sympathized with people who did not want to leave their pets destitute following their deaths. He thought that establishing an annuity might be a solution, but insurance companies explained that there was not enough longevity information on animals to prepare the necessary actuarial tables. The best plan he found was to charge the estate with the support of pets.

Dr. Hirscher, who had been charging $3 a day for Tommy’s care (because he was a “hospital case”), said he would continue to care for the cat. “He’ll have the run of the house,” the vet told the press. When Ms. Simmons checked on Tommy a year later, he was sprawled across the floor as if he owned the place.

Tommy Tucker
Tommy Tucker was no doubt named for the famous orchestra leader of this era.

At this time, Tommy weighed 19 pounds. He had his own room, 7×14 feet, and slept in a wicker basket. He also had full access to a yard on the property.

“Paid or not, I’ll be glad to take care of Tommy until he dies,” Dr. Hirscher told the reporter. The vet explained that Ms. Baier had always employed him for her cats and she loved Tommy and wanted the best for him.

According to Dr. Hirscher, Ms. Baier took Tommy in off the streets on a rainy night in 1935 when he was just a kitten. He had always been a sickly cat and suffered from abscesses. When Tommy got a large abscess on his nose, other vets told Dr. Hirscher to put him to sleep. He chose to operate instead, which cured the cat but left a hollow spot on his nose.

In addition, Tommy also suffered from eczema. The vet tried to get him to eat more beef by mixing it with crumbled crackers, but the cat would just eat the crackers and leave the meat. “Queer for a cat,” Dr. Hirscher said, adding he was trying to get Tommy on a good diet even though it was challenging.

Tommy Tucker with Dr. Hirscher
Tommy Tucker with Dr. Hirscher

Tommy didn’t like dogs and he didn’t like taking his pills. Whenever he didn’t like something, he’d give out a verbal warning and then he’d pull out the claws. Hopefully he lived a happy and healthier life with the vet.

A Brief History of 1384 Riverside Drive

Louise Baier came from a family of talented German musicians. She had several siblings, including a younger brother, Julius W (also a choir singer), from whom she inherited the frame house on Riverside Drive. (Julius had purchased it from George Smith in 1917.) Louise’s other brother, Charles, was also musical; he played the organ at the church.

Louise and Charles lived together in the house at 1384 Riverside Drive in their last years of life (Charles died in 1935). Apparently several cats, in addition to Tommy, lived here also throughout the years.

Tommy Tucker lived in this large frame house on Riverside Drive near West 186th Street with Miss Baier. NYPL Digital Collections, 1931
Tommy Tucker lived in this two-and-a-half story frame house on Riverside Drive near West 181st Street with Miss Baier. Dr. Charles Paterno’s Castle is above the stone wall. NYPL Digital Collections, 1931

Two hundred years before Tommy Tucker temporarily inherited $5,000, the range of hills on the ridge overlooking the Muscoota (Harlem River) was a hunting place of the Weckquaesgeek tribe, whose largest village was Nipinisicken on the Spuyten Duyvil hill.

In 1673, the first road was cut through this woodland then known as Jochem Pieter’s Hill or the Long Hill, probably following an old hunting trail along the present line of Broadway (the locals called it Breakneck Hill).

Sometime around the late 1690s, a magistrate by the name of Joost Van Oblinus acquired a large tract of cleared land called the Indian Field or Great Maize Land, which extended along the new road from about 165th to 181st Street. In 1769, his grandson Johannes sold about 100 acres of this land to Blazius (Blaze) Moore, a well-known tobacco merchant who had a business at Broadway and John Street. 

The property of Blaze Moore, 1818-1820 Randel Farm Map.
The property of Blaze Moore, 1818-1820 Randel Farm Map.

When the Baiers’ house was first constructed on the former lands of Blaze Moore sometime between 1913 and 1917, Washington Heights was still fairly rural. There were a few brick apartment buildings popping up here and there, but as the photo below shows, there were still many frame houses in the area and lots of empty land to develop.

This photo shows the northern section of Washington Heights (from about 182nd to the area of today's Fort Tryon Park) in the 1920s.
This photo shows the northern section of Washington Heights (from about 182nd to the area of today’s Fort Tryon Park) in the 1920s.

Right about the time the frame house on Riverside was being constructed, a millionaire by the name of Dr. Charles V. Paterno was completing his four-story, 35-room, white marble castle just above Riverside Drive. The stone walls dwarfed the frame house, but at least it didn’t obstruct the Baiers’ view of the river.

Dr Charles Paterno

Dr. Paterno and his brother Joseph were the sons of John Paterno (d. 1899), a prominent contractor who built numerous apartment buildings on Manhattan’s upper west side. Charles had just received his degree of doctor of medicine from Cornell University, and 18-year-old Joseph was still completing high school, when they were called upon to take over their father’s business and complete those projects he had started before his death.

Over the years, the brothers erected numerous 10- and 12-story apartment buildings in the Morningside Heights neighborhood.

In 1905 Dr. Paterno purchased seven and a half acres of land, about 125 feet above the Hudson River. He commissioned architect John C. Watson to design his new home, or should I say castle. The mansion was between today’s 181st and 185th Streets on what was then called Boulevard Lafayette (an extension of Riverside Drive) and Northern Boulevard (later called Cabrini Boulevard).

The Baier house on Riverside Drive was surrounded by brick apartment buildings by 1923. NYPL Digital Collections
The Baier house on Riverside Drive was surrounded by brick apartment buildings before the Paterno Castle was completed in 1916. NYPL Digital Collections
Here the the Baier home on Riverside Drive in 1936, two years before the Paterno Castle was razed.
Here is the the Baier home on Riverside Drive in 1936, two years before the Paterno Castle was razed.

The castle did not last long and it did not have a fairy tale ending. Dr. Paterno moved to Greenwich, Connecticut, and in 1938 he razed the castle and most of the rest of the estate to erect Castle Village, a large complex of five 12-story detached apartment houses. How boring.

1939 advertisement
The Baiers' house on Riverside Drive, circled, next to Dr. Paterno's castle, 1930. NYPL Digital Collections
The Baiers’ house on Riverside Drive, circled, next to Dr. Paterno’s castle, 1930. NYPL Digital Collections
Paterno Castle, 1916-1938
Paterno’s Castle, 1916-1938

In 1939, Louise Baier passed away and Tommy moved out of his castle and in with Dr. Hirscher. That same year, Riviera Apartments, of which Morris Halpern was president, purchased 1384 Riverside Drive from the New York Trust Company for $37,000. Plans were filed to construct a six-story apartment house with 49 apartments and 125 rooms on the site at a cost of $125,000.

Dr. Paterno died in 1946, just eight years after he tore down his castle.

By the time Castle Village was completed on the site of Paterno's castle, the Baiers' house on Riverside Drive was gone.
By the time Castle Village was completed on the site of Paterno’s castle, the Baiers’ house on Riverside Drive was gone.
The view of Tommy Tucker’s old hunting grounds today. Google images.

If you enjoyed this cat story, you might enjoy reading about Dunder, the Carnegie Hill cat who inherited a fortune in 1925.

1910: Lester, the Police Horse Who Patronized the Mother Goose Tea Room

Posted: 16th March 2024 by The Hatching Cat in FDNY Horses/Mascots
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NYPD police horses at Fifth Avenue and 30th Street in 1907
Perhaps one of these NYPD police horses at Fifth Avenue and 30th Street in 1907 were Lester. NYPL Digital Collections

Every day, Lester the NYPD police horse worked with his two-legged partner on Fifth Avenue near 35th Street. And every day at 5 p.m., he would visit the Mother Goose Tea Room at 13 East 35th Street. He would stick his nose over the hedge and wait for a few lumps of sugar.

The Mother Goose Tea Room, owned by Clementine V. Lasar Studwell, was a novelty tea room that went over the top with the Mother Goose theme, starting with the display window, which featured a large shoe with windows and a door, and a statue of Mother Goose in her red dress.

Illustration of Mother Goose

The halls were decorated with Mother Goose paintings by famous illustrators of children’s stories, and all the chinaware was painted with characters such as Tom Thumb, Jack Horner, and Old King Cole. There were wooden tables and benches crafted in Dutch style, and the waitresses dressed like Dutch maids.

Every day when Lester the police horse came to visit, the waitresses would attend to him just as they would any human customer. After he received his sugar, he would nod his head in thanks and walk away.

Although the Mother Goose Tea Room was popular with children–many children’s had birthday parties there–it was also popular with young ladies who came to read their fortunes in Mrs. Studwell’s fortune-telling tea cups.

Mrs. Studwell, who was popular soprano soloist for several churches in Manhattan and Brooklyn, began the business in 1910 when she was 61 years old, after her husband, George Stuart Studwell, began losing money in his business ventures. (Incidentally, the famous architect Charles McKim made his home in the four-story building at 13 East 35th Street until he moved out in 1908).

Clementine said the tea room was quite profitable with women, who came for the tea leaves, and also with men, who came for the famous German nut bread (and probably the Dutch maid waitresses). All her customers called her Mother Goose.

Every customer who ordered tea would receive a booklet explaining how to read the tea leaves. According to Mrs. Studwell, the proper way to read tea leaves was to turn the cup over four times after finishing the tea.

Clementine Studwell specialized in helping her customers read their tea leaves at her Mother Goose Tea Room.
Clementine Studwell specialized in helping her customers read their tea leaves at her Mother Goose Tea Room.

One the final turn, she said, you could predict your fortune at various points in your life by seeing where the tea leaves landed. If the leaves stopped on the rising sun, for example, it meant fame; if they landed on the book, that denoted wisdom; the four-leaf clover meant good luck and the crown was a sign of power.

Unfortunately for Lester the horse, the novelty tea room did not last long. By 1913 it was called Mrs. Warner’s Tea Shop, and in the 1920s it was known as the Green Parrot Team Room.

In 1923, a third-floor apartment above the tea room was the scene of an alleged torrid love affair between the wife of W.E.D. Stokes, owner of the Ansonia Hotel, and Edgar T. Wallace, a bachelor. The newspapers reported on all the lurid details of the affair, including Mrs. Stokes’ clothing choices or lack thereof.

During the divorce litigation, which lasted five years, several women who worked in the tea room testified that they would bring food up to Mr. Wallace’s bedroom, which is where they saw Mrs. Stokes.

Clementine Studwell died in July 1929 at the age of 79. She was survived by her husband and a son, George.

1905: The Wealthy Miser Who Hoarded Money and Cats in a Midtown Tenement

Posted: 8th March 2024 by The Hatching Cat in Cat Stories, Cows and Cattle Stories
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Museum of the City of New York Collections

The following story features a wealthy miser who lived frugally despite her wealth, about a dozen cats that lived with her in a dingy apartment, an ottoman stuffed with cash, and a few cows that made the Goelet family one of the richest landowners in midtown Manhattan in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Trust me, it all fits together in an odd historical way.

The Wealthy Cat Lady

Maria E.D. Mang moved to America from Austria in 1848, when she about 17. She met and married William Kull, who was a director for the former Bull’s Head Bank on Third Avenue and 25th Street. The couple lived in a fashionable apartment on West 23rd Street and attended many formal affairs. They never had children.

After her husband died in 1863, Maria Kull began collecting cats. Never having had any experience dealing with money, bonds, or real estate before–and trusting no one, including her own family members–she also began hoarding and hiding her cash and securities. She reportedly collected about $5000 in dividends every year following William Kull’s death.

Sometime around 1875, Maria moved into one of the two tenement buildings her husband had owned (and were now in her name). Although the five-story building at 829 First Avenue (where the UN complex now stands) was a bit nicer, she chose the four-story brick tenement closer to midtown Manhattan at 743 Third Avenue. Although she was now the owner of both buildings, she decided to live in only two squalid rooms on the second floor.

Little by little, the woman known in the neighborhood as Grannie Kull turned into a miser, convinced that everyone was trying to steal her money. She began wearing shabby clothes and telling people that all her money was gone, and doing her own handy-man work in the building (such as carpentry and replacing windows) in order to save money.

Maria Kull also started taking in boarders, including an older man of questionable reputation named Herman Weller (aka Weber) who may or may have not been her lover.

743 Third Avenue, on the corner of 46th Street, 1940, NYC Department of Records Maria Kull owned and lived in the midtown building.
Maria Kull lived with about a dozen cats in a tiny apartment just above the stores at 743 Third Avenue, on the corner of 46th Street. She also owned this building. This photo was taken in 1940. NYC Department of Records.

Although Maria limited her own diet to cheese and crackers, several times a week she would gather up some coins and hobble with her cane to the butcher, where she’d purchase a quarter pound of chuck steak for her cats. Although the cats spent much of their time inside the tiny apartment, they would often go up on the roof or have fights in the backyard. Maria owned the building, so there was nothing the other tenants could say about the cat situation.

Other than a niece, Susan Mang, who traveled from the Bronx to midtown to visit Maria about once a month, other neighbors were never invited to visit. They would bring her food, thinking she was starving, but Maria was a miser and wanted nothing to do with other people.

One day in February 1905, Maria was brutally attacked (the police thought Herman may have beat her, but Maria insisted that two men who were trying to rob her attacked her as she fought them off). The ambulance took her to Flower Free Surgical Hospital, a large facility located along the East River at 63rd Street.

Flower Free Surgical Hospital in Midtown East, Manhattan
The Flower Free Surgical Hospital was built in 1889 on 63rd Street and what was then called Eastern Boulevard.
Maria Kull was described as a Woman Miser in the news, 1905

When the police arrived with the ambulance, Maria asked them to bring a dirty old ottoman to the hospital, as it was the only furniture she said she could sleep on. They of course could not comply with her wishes, so instead, the police and her niece inspected the ottoman.

Stuffed inside they found bunches of $50 bills tied up in rags–a total of about $3000. They also found another $3000 in cash and about $20,000 in securities in the cupboards, plus the deeds to the two buildings.

All total, as the press noted, the woman miser was worth about $100.000.

When Maria returned home from the hospital–where she had also been diagnosed with chronic gastritis due to her poor diet–she found that the Board of Health had removed much of the furniture in her apartment. She continued living there until her death in August.

On the day Maria’s body was found in her apartment, the neighbors had alerted police to all the howls coming from the cats trapped inside. Police broke down the door and found Maria on an old couch, surrounded by her cats. The cats began swarming around the police officers, hoping for a few morsels of food.

Susan Mang and one of Maria’s nephews, Carl Hein, reportedly inherited the estate. Ms. Mang had promised her aunt that she would find homes for the cats before the woman had passed away.

A Brief History of Third Avenue in Midtown Manhattan

So where do the cows and the families of Robert Goelet and Peter Goelet come in, you ask? In the history of the land, of course!

The land on which Maria Kull’s tenement at 743 Third Avenue was constructed in the 1800s was once part of a large, 55-acre farm owned by Thomas Buchanan. Buchanan, born in Glasgow on December 24, 1744, was a descendent of prosperous Scotch merchants. His parents were George and Jean (Lowden) Buchanan.

Third Avenue and 46th Street, Midtown Manhattan NYPL Digital Collections
This old illustration of Third Avenue and 46th Street shows what midtown Manhattan looked like when Thomas Buchanan bought the land in the early 1800s. I don’t see any cows but they may be hiding somewhere on this property. NYPL Digital Collections

In 1763, following his studies at the University of Glasgow, Buchanan went to New York, where he entered into partnership with his father’s cousin Walter, who was already established in a shipping business in lower Manhattan. The firm of W. & T. Buchanan owned several ships and did extensive trade with the British ports.

Thomas married Almy Townsend, and the couple had numerous children, including a daughter who married Peter Goelet and another daughter who married Peter’s brother, Robert Ratzer Goulet (who, by the way, owned a country estate that is now a wonderful restaurant and B&B called Glenmere Mansion near my hometown).

Mrs. Townsend had a penchant for fresh milk and butter. Therefore, she insisted on having her own cows. She first asked her husband to purchase land near Canal Street (the family had a mansion on Wall Street), but when she realized that wasn’t big enough for for a herd of cows, she convinced him to buy some land along Fifth Avenue in the more remote part of Manhattan.  

Bull's Head Hotel, 44th Street and Fifth Avenue, Midtown Manhattan
The Bull’s Head Inn, depicted here in 1830, was located on present-day 45th Street and Fifth Avenue, on land that was once part of the Thomas Buchannan farm in midtown Manhattan.

And so between 1803 and 1807, Thomas Buchanan purchased 55 acres of common land, which the city was disposing, for the sum of $7,537. The plot was bounded by Fifth and Third Avenues between 45th and 48th Streets. In addition to the cows, Thomas planted turnips, corn, and potatoes on the land.

Thomas Buchanan died on November 10, 1815. At that time, his estate, which also included a country seat on the East River between 54th and 57th Streets, was valued at $50,000.

Thomas Buchanan's midtown property between Fifth and Third Avenues is shown on the John Randel farm map, 1818-1820.
Thomas Buchanan’s midtown property between Fifth and Third Avenues is shown on the John Randel farm map, 1818-1820. The tenement where Maria Kull lived would have been right on the lower right of the map, on the east side of Third Avenue at 46th Street.

In 1902, Thomas and Almy’s descendants, including members of the Goulet family, still owned this land. At this time, this large parcel in midtown Manhattan was valued at $30 million. I’m sure the Goulets were happy that Almy Buchanan had wanted enough land for a herd of cows!



1899: Bang Go, the Wired-Up Mascot of FDNY Engine 56

Posted: 14th February 2024 by The Hatching Cat in Dog Mascots, FDNY Horses/Mascots
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Bang Go, Engine 56 mascot
Bang Go, Engine 56 mascot, 1901

The following short story is one of my favorites from my upcoming book, The Bravest Pets of Gotham: Tales of Four-Legged Firefighters of Old New York (September 2024). I laugh every time I think about this crazy little dog of FDNY Engine 56.

Most fire dogs of the FDNY’s horse-drawn era in Old New York ran ahead of the horses on the ground to warn off pedestrians and other vehicles. Bang Go vaulted through the air. About eight feet high in the air, to be exact.

Bang Go was the son of Go Bang, a prize-winning wire-haired fox terrier worth $2,500 and owned by Governeur Morris Carnochan, chairman of the American Kennel Club Rules Committee.[i] His siblings were Baby Fireaway and Baby Ding Dong.

Carnochan presented the dog to Captain Michael J. McNamara of Engine 56 at 120 West Eighty-Third Street when Bang Go was a puppy in 1899. The captain was leery of accepting the tiny dog at first. “In fact, when we first saw him,” the captain told the press, “we all gave him the ‘Gee-hee.’ I knew nothing of wire-haired terriers then and did not realize his value and intelligence. But in a few days, he had earned for himself the affection and interest of all the firemen in the engine house.”[ii]  

Engine 56, 120 West 83rd Street. NYC Department of Records, 1940
Engine 56, 120 West 83rd Street. NYC Department of Records, 1940 tax photo

Although the tiny dog longed to go to fires with the men, the captain didn’t want him to respond, and so he locked Bang Go up whenever the company banged out for a call. But one day he couldn’t find the dog before the engine set out. When the engine had gone a few blocks, Bang Go showed up, barking and racing with the horses in his excitement.

On their way home, the men saw him pacing in front of the firehouse, warding off all passersby on that side of the street. From then on, whenever he had a chance to run with the horses, he’d dash down the street and repeatedly vault in the air with flying leaps. If he didn’t want to run far, he’d run and do vaults in circles. 

The high-energy full-bred dog of Engine 56 also ate different meals than other fire dogs. For breakfast he had bread and coffee with milk and sugar. Lunch was a large bowl of soup, plenty of meat and vegetables, and bread and butter. Another cup of coffee topped off his night, which explains why Bang Go was a wired wire-haired fox terrier.

A Brief History of Engine 56

Our funny little dog Bang Go made his home at Engine 56, which was organized on July 13, 1889, in a firehouse on West 83rd Street between what was then 9th and 10th Avenues. According to the 1891 map below, Bang Go had a large vacant lot next door in which to play in and release his energy.

This land had formerly been owned by William Story in the early 19th century and then John Eatton Le Conte, a botanist with ties to the Elgin Botanic Garden in midtown Manhattan (where Rockefeller Center is today), in the mid-19th century.

The Engine 56 firehouse is circled in red on this 1891 map. NYPL Digital Collections

The firehouse was designed by Napoleon Le Brun and his son, Pierre, and completed in 1889. Captain Michael J. McNamara, a 40-year-old Irish immigrant who joined the fire department in 1873–and had been promoted to Captain on December 1, 1886–was placed in charge of the new engine company.

Engine 56 had two engineers, James Claire and William Massey; and seven firefighters: Michael Dinan, Charles Calahan, Robert Geddis, Richard Hyde, William Lumbolster, John Linck, and John Douglass. 

McNamara was popular with the men and everyone in the neighborhood. In 1905 he received the New York Daily News medal as the city’s most popular fire captain—receiving 800,000 votes compared to the second place count of 300,000 votes.  The newspaper said “every man, woman, and child on the upper west side knew him and were fond of him, especially the children.”

West 83rd Street Edith Morton MCNY
This is what West 83rd Street would have looked like for Bang Go, as depicted by the artist Edith Morton, who painted this from her home on the top floor of 231 West 83rd Street, on the northeast corner of 83rd and Broadway, around 1890. Museum of the City of New York Collections

After 22 years in command of Engine Company 56, Captain McNamara retired on February 1, 1911. He was the longest serving captain in the FDNY at that time. 

Incidentally, on May 8, 1906, seven years after Bang Go arrived, Engine 56 fireman William J. Sullivan and fireman John J. Sheridan of Engine 39 were walking along Third Avenue when a curtain in a bakery caught fire in the four-story building at 1224 Third Avenue. The men rushed into the building, saving at least six residents, including John Storck, the owner of the bakery, whose family lived in the apartment above.

Just as a fire engine pulled up, Mrs. Pollock, who lived on the third floor, cried out for Sheridan to “Save my baby!”  Sheridan ran back into the smoke-filled building, where he found a fox terrier and what he thought was an infant in a chair, wrapped in a blanket.

He grabbed the dog and the infant and ran out of the building. Once on the sidewalk he realized that “my baby” was the fox terrier.  The infant he had rescued was a baby doll. 

Engine 56 was disbanded in 1960, and Squad Company 6 moved in, until they were disbanded in 1972. That year, the 83rd Street station became home to Engine 74, which had been housed at 207 West 77th Street. This company has a Dalmatian named Yogi (you can see a picture of him here).

Tragically, Engine 74 lost six of its men–Matthew Barnes, John Collins, Kenneth Kumpel, Robert Minara, Joseph Rivelli Jr., and Paul Ruback–in the attack on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.

Today the old Engine 56 firehouse is home to Engine 74.
Today the old Engine 56 firehouse is home to Engine 74.

[i] “Fine Dogs Arrive in Town,” New York Sun, February 17, 1899

[ii] “Bang Go, the Mascot,” New-York Tribune, June 30, 1901.

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