Vintage boy with cat

When Mrs. Harry Ulysses Kibbe and several other visionary society women organized the Bideawee home for animals in 1903, the women relied on paid subscriptions from generous New Yorkers to achieve their mission to care for friendless animals.

In its first year, the organization owned eight acres in Yonkers, but the women did not yet have a real home in the city for sheltering cats and dogs. One of their first fundraisers was a Christmas tea at the Hotel Savoy on Fifth Avenue, where raffle tickets raised $1,000 toward a permanent shelter.

By December 1905, Bideawee had a new city home in a former two-story brick stable at 145 West 38th Street, for which they paid $1,800 a year. That Christmas, the 20 dogs, 3 cats, and 1 tiny kitten living there were treated to turkey and chicken donated by the Waldorf-Astoria. The dogs also received bones and dog biscuits and shiny collars, while the cats found milk and catnip and brilliant ribbons in their stockings.

Over the years, the Christmas feast for animals became a tradition at the Bideawee home. Neighborhood children who had shown kindness during the year by bringing stray cats and dogs to the home were also invited to partake in the festivities.

In 1921, Bideawee had been in its permanent home at 410 East 38th Street for about 10 years. That year, a little boy named Johnny Anderson invited a new stray cat to the Christmas celebration.

Clutching a squirming, scrawny, angry little kitten, Johnny pushed open the door and handed the friendless cat to Mrs. Kibbe. “Take it,” he said. “I found it in the street and I wanted it to have a Merry Christmas, so I brought it to your party.”

Mrs. Harry Ulysses Kibbe (nee Flora D'Auby Jenkins), from the Bideawee archives.
Mrs. Harry Ulysses Kibbe (nee Flora D’Auby Jenkins), from the Bideawee archives.

Johnny’s face was scratched and his hands were bloody, but he was determined to bring the kitten to the holiday feast.

Johnny was a small patron of the charity organization, and he brought every stray animal he found wandering the streets to the Bideawee home. The women would either keep the strays at the home, place them with deserving families in the city, or send them to their farm in Wantagh, Long Island.

In addition to the kitten, Johnny also brought his dog, Flora, to the party. Mrs. Kibbe had given the dog to Johnny to thank him for all his kindness to homeless and friendless animals.

One of the resident star dogs of Bideawee during this time was Taxi, the “dog policeman” of New York. Taxi would go out on the streets looking specifically for stray dogs.

Taxi carries a stray dog to the Bideawee home in 1921. Brooklyn Standard Union, January 16, 1921.
Taxi carries a stray dog to the Bideawee home. Brooklyn Standard Union, January 16, 1921.
Taxi would step up on a box and ring the door to announce his arrival with a new canine guest for the Bideawee home.
Taxi would step up on a box and ring the doorbell to announce his arrival with a new canine guest.

Finding a pet that had wandered far from its home and mother, Taxi would pick it up by the nape of the neck and carry it straight to the Bideawee home. There, he would step up on a box set up just for him and ring the doorbell.

Another star dog was Army, described as a “fat, black, good-natured army pet.” Army had served with the Army Expeditionary Forces in France, and he walked with “an honorable limp” due to a bullet-shattered front leg. He lived at the home, having arrived there in 1919.

On December 26, 1921, Johnny’s stray kitten and the other animal guests enjoyed a Christmas dinner of chopped meat, salmon, biscuits, and warm milk. Then they all settled down, cozy, fed, and warm, for a long winter’s nap.

The Quest for a Permanent Bideawee Home

Bideawee is the Scottish term for “stay a while.” Although Mrs. Kibbe and the other founders chose this name to evoke compassion, love, and warmth for animals in need of shelter, it was also an appropriate name for the organization during its first eight years, when the women were forced to move from home to home in their quest for a permanent “no kill” shelter.

In 1911, Bideawee moved three times. The third move was the charm.

The quest began in 1903, the year Bideawee placed more than 400 dogs and 75 cats in good forever homes. Their own home at this time was a temporary place in a five-story building at 118 West 43rd Street.

One of the women’s biggest opponents at this time was the ASPCA, which insisted that unwanted animals be turned over to the society to be put to death. This opposition often made it difficult for the ladies to win over supporters of their cause and raise enough funds. But they were persistent.

Following a few years in their next home on West 38th Street, the ladies move to 36 Lexington Avenue, where they stayed until March 1910. The prior year, the Board of Health had ordered the women to remove all the dogs from Lexington Avenue (they were sent to a 10-acre farm in River Vale, New Jersey); the building was also too small to accommodate the cats.

In March 1910, Bideawee purchased from Thomas Lownden a long-term lease on a two-story and attic frame house and stables at 244 East 65th Street. The 100-year-old, 13-room house had once been a mansion, but was now surrounded by an express office, blacksmith shop, and coal yard; the Third Avenue Elevated Railroad power house was across the street.

In March 1910, Bideawee moved into this former frame mansion at 244 East 65th Street.
In March 1910, Bideawee moved into this former frame mansion at 244 East 65th Street. Brooklyn Daily Eagle, November 21, 1910.

Mrs. Kibbe said the environment was ideal, as there were no close neighbors to complain about the barking dogs and howling cats. As the New York Times noted, “Even the strongest-lunged tomcat or the most obstreperous wolfhound will be able to make as much noise as it likes without a protest in any direction.”

1907 map, East 65th Street
Surrounded by a power plant, coal yards, and office buildings, the frame house and stables were in an ideal location for the Bideawee home. 1907 map, NYPL Digital Collections.

In addition to the large house, which Mrs. Kibbe said would be able accommodate twice as many animals as the building on Lexington Avenue, there was a large stable in the rear yard, which would provide shelter for the larger dogs. Mr. Lownden, a coal dealer and amateur dog fancier, had also gone the extra mile to erect a new fence around the front yard so the animals could go outdoors for exercise.

Inside the home, Mr. Lownden repaired some of the rooms to make the animals as comfortable as possible. New wire cages were installed and an outdoor wooden staircase was built from the upper floor to the yard for the dogs.

Rockefeller Institute
The nearby Rockefeller Institute on East 66th Street paid children for stray animals. NYPL Digital Collections

Ironically, only one block away from the new Bideawee home, at the foot of East 66th Street, was the Rockefeller Institute, which used animals for experiments in vivisection. The institute paid children 25 cents a head for stray dogs and half that much for stray cats.

When asked if Bideawee planned on competing with the institute by paying children more money for stray animals, Mrs. Kibbe told a New York Times reporter that there were no such plans to compete.

However, she said, Bideawee did plan on establishing clubs in which the neighborhood boys would be given lessons on how to be kind to animals. Buttons and medals would be awarded to those children who helped save the animals rather than sell them for cruel experiments.

By November 1910, the women were in trouble again. Although they had paid off their mortgage on their farm in River Vale, they were still short $5,000 needed for other expenses. Their workhorse, Dandy, who did a lot of work on the farm, had also taken ill. Then their automobile ambulance was run down by an ash cart and wrecked.

The situation became even more dire when the women learned that they had to vacate their new home on April 10, 1911. Mrs. Kibbe told a reporter that they thought they had secured a 30-year lease for the property. However, Mr. Lownden had to release his property rights to an express company that wanted to put another express office on the site.

244 East 65th Street, NYC tax photo, 1940
In 1940, when this tax photo was taken, 244 East 65th was occupied by the Tuxedo Park Garage. NYC Department of Records.

Although an adjacent home was available, the Board of Health would not allow Bideawee to move into that building because it was within 100 feet of a tenement building.

At the time that the women received this bad news, they were housing 250 dogs and cats and one horse named Diamond.

“We have tried in vain so far to find a new city home for the animals,” Mrs. Kibbe told a New-York Tribune reporter on April 3. “Everyone objects to them being near private houses and tenements.”

On April 8, two days before they had to leave, Bideawee secured a temporary lease from real estate tycoon Felix Isman in a building at Broadway and 47th Street. About 100 dogs were sent to the New Jersey farm, and a receiving station was put in place on East 65th Street so the society could continue receiving animals from the boys in that neighborhood.

Finally, in October 1911, the women found the perfect “furever” home where there were no neighbors to complain of barking dogs and yowling cats. The two-story building at 410 East 38th Street, which had once been the site of stables for the Kips Bay Malt Company, was surrounded by the Edison Power Company, Kips Bay Brewing Company, razor factory, and coal yard.

East 38th Street 1911
The Bideawee home at 410 East 38th Street is circled on this 1911 map. NYPL Digital Collections
The Bide-a-Wee Home at 410 East 38th Street in 1940
410 East 38th Street in 1940 (I love that the photographer’s assistant was trying to duck from view.) Two stories were added to the building in 1954. NYC Department of Records tax photos, 1940.

Bideawee leased the large building and property from the estate of Mary Jones, a descendant of brewer David Jones, who had purchased the former brewery property for $80,000 in 1872.

The two-year lease included an option to buy, which Bideawee exercised, resulting in a $50,000 mortgage. The final pay-out of $8,000 was due January 1, 1922, just one week after little Johnny Anderson brought a stray kitten to the Christmas party.

The Bide-a-Wee home in 2022.
The Bideawee home in 2022.

If you enjoyed this Christmas animal tale of Old New York, you may like reading about Paddy Reilly, the Irish terrier host of New York’s annual Christmas party.

Thomas Gilmartin of Richmond Hill and his Seeing Eye Dog, Rascal
Thomas Gilmartin of Richmond Hill and his Seeing Eye Dog, Rascal

For many years, my husband and I volunteered with Puppies Behind Bars, helping to socialize puppies in training to become bomb detection dogs or companion dogs for those in the military suffering from PTSD. We could take these dogs almost everywhere and travel with them on all forms of public transportation. So, I was surprised to find out that service dogs, such as Seeing Eye dogs, were once banned from the NYC subways.

Below is the true story of Robert J. Losch and his dog, Sally, who fought to overturn the ban on Seeing Eye dogs in the subways. I discovered their story after finding the photo at left of Thomas F. Gilmartin, Jr. and his dog, Rascal.

Whenever I come across a great vintage photo like this one, I can’t resist doing some research to find out who the people and animals were. Where and when did they live? What was their story? It was while researching Thomas and Rascal that I discovered Robert and Sally and their crusade to give dogs access to the subways.

Thomas and Rascal Gilmartin

On December 5, 1940, Rascal Gilmartin, a four-legged graduate of The Seeing Eye guide dog school in Morristown, NJ, celebrated his fifth birthday. That day, a reporter from the Daily News visited the Gilmartin home at 89-17 118th Street (aka Church Street) in Richmond Hill, Queens, to meet Rascal and his human master.

For three years, Rascal had been helping Thomas attend classes at Queens College. Not only did he lead Thomas on the bus and trolley, but he also escorted him to all his classes on campus.

Thomas, a graduate of P.S. 90 and Richmond Hill High School, was studying to earn a B.S. in social service work. “I think that’s a good job for the blind, helping handicapped people,” he told the reporter. He thought Rascal would also be eligible for a diploma when he graduated in June 1941 because the dog had attended as many classes as he had.

I’ve got 100 percent confidence in him,” Thomas said about Rascal. “He’s never failed me. He practically knows my school program. When I go into a building, he knows which classroom to go to and always takes me to my seat.”

Thomas and Rascal in their home at 89-17 118th Street in Richmond Hill.
Thomas and Rascal in their home at 89-17 118th Street in Richmond Hill.

According to Thomas, Rascal remained quiet all day, and he oftentimes fell asleep during boring lectures or had the nerve to snore under the professor’s nose. The only the only time he made any noise was during assemblies, when he would bark whenever the students clapped.

Thomas, the son of Thomas and Emma Gilmartin, had been blind in one eye since early childhood. He lost sight in his other eye when he was teenager. For seven years, he could do very little without the help of others and he could only travel by himself within a three-block radius of his home.

The 25-year-old college junior told the news reporter he originally wanted to attend Brooklyn College after he graduated from high school, but he could not handle the transportation. So he had to wait a few years until he was paired with Rascal at The Seeing Eye.

Thomas had learned about The Seeing Eye on a radio broadcast. He and Rascal bonded instantly and just “clicked” from the moment Rascal walked into the reception room. “We had no trouble getting on together from the start,” he said. After a month of training he was able to bring Rascal home.

With Rascal at his side, Thomas said he felt as independent as any sighted person. “Blindness, I consider, is an affliction that was once mine, but is no more.”

To illustrate how well he and Rascal bonded, Thomas told the reporter about the time he was walking with his dog when he heard one woman say to another, “Isn’t he a nice man to lead that blind dog.”

Seeing Eye Dogs Gain Access to the Subway

Robert Losch of Whitestone and his dog, Sally, led the charge to allow Seeing Eye dogs on the New York City subway.
Robert Losch of Whitestone and his dog, Sally, led the charge to allow Seeing Eye dogs on the New York City subway.

To travel from his home in Richmond Hill to Queens College in Flushing, Thomas took a bus and trolley. He also relied on the bus to get into Manhattan, which could take him two hours. Thomas could not use the subway, because service dogs were banned.

Robert J. Losch, a 40-year-old mechanical engineer who lost his sight during an auto accident in 1934, was not aware that service dogs were banned from the subways. For almost a year, Robert and his miniature German shepherd, whom he acquired from The Seeing Eye in 1939, had often traveled by subway without any objections. Then one day in February 1941, a guard stopped Robert and Sally as they were entering the 63rd Drive station in Rego Park.

“I didn’t know I was breaking an ordinance,” Robert told a reporter from the Daily News. “No one ever stopped me.”

Robert explained that Sally loved riding on the subways. She always lead him to the door once the train stopped on the platform and she never left his side, sitting on the floor next to him without making a sound. “With Sally I was safer than even a sighted person in the subway.”

Robert, who lived with his wife and 10-year-old son at 21-18 147th Street in Whitestone, Queens, was a member of the Whitestone South Community Association. When the members found out that Robert and Sally had been booted from the subway, they offered to drive him to the City Council office in Manhattan and help him get permission for Seeing Eye dogs to use the subway.

Robert Losch and Seeing Eye dog Sally
Robert and Sally leave their Whitestone home.

After demonstrating how indispensable Sally was to him, Robert told the council members and Acting Mayor Newbold Morris that he was not fighting for only himself. “I think there are about a dozen blind people living in the metropolitan area using Seeing Eye dogs to get around,” he said. “A change in the ordinance that forbids dogs in the subways would benefit them all.”

Two months after Robert and Sally were stopped from entering the subway, New York Governor Herbert H. Lehman signed a bill (an amendment to the Railroad Law) permitting Seeing Eye dogs on the subways and other transportation systems. On April 29, 1941, Philip E. Pfeifer, general superintendent of the subway system, issued an order stating that the dogs were permitted to ride the subways provided they were muzzled and accompanied by a blind person carrying a certificate from The Seeing Eye.

As soon as the law passed, Robert and Sally took a trip from Flushing to Manhattan, where Robert shopped for materials to make some leather handicrafts. “I put a nickel in the turnstile and went through just like everybody else,” Robert said, adding he had just as much a right to use the subways as anyone else.

Several other sight-impaired men also looked forward to using the subway with their Seeing Eye dogs. In addition to Thomas Gilmartin, who was excited about using the subway to and from school, Joseph Caronia, a Brooklyn musician who had traveled all over the country with his dog, was also looking forward to using the subways with his dog, Kion.

“It should have been done years ago,” said Lewis Smith, a well-known figure in Brooklyn Heights, where he often walked with his Labrador retriever, another graduate of The Seeing Eye. “It’s been a hardship not to be able to travel in the subway.”

One year after Robert convinced New York lawmakers to allow Seeing Eye dogs in the subway, he shattered an old hospital rule by getting permission to keep Sally by his side at Bellevue Hospital. The Daily News reported that Sally, now 5 years old, would make dog history by becoming the first dog ever permitted in the hospital wards.

Robert Losch with Seeing-Eye dog Sally at Bellevue Hospital in June 1942.
Robert Losch with Sally at Bellevue Hospital in June 1942.

According to the story, Robert suffered an attack of appendicitis on June 8, 1942. After he went to the hospital, Sally remained near Robert’s empty bed all day long and refused to eat. She began losing weight.

Robert’s wife, Madeline, took Sally to the hospital and explained the situation. As soon as the orderlies saw how intelligent Sally was, they dismissed the rules forbidding dogs. Sally gained all her weight back and then some–by the time Robert was released from the hospital, her harness was snugger than before.

“Now I hope that someday I will be called for jury duty and they’ll let Sally sit with me in the jury box,” Robert said from his hospital bed.

Robert, who had retired to Florida in 1967, passed away in May 1973 at the age of 71.

Thomas, according to the census reports, married Eleanor Habas in 1943 and was working as a supervisory trainer at the New York Association for the Blind (aka The Lighthouse) in 1950. By 1965, he was administrator of home teaching and coordinator of the Training Division of The Lighthouse and by 1971, he was the director of The Lighthouse Queens Center on Woodhaven Boulevard.

Thomas died in October 2010 at the age of 94.

Robert Losch with Sally at his side in Bellevue Hospital.

Today, under the Americans with Disabilities Act, a person with a disability may be accompanied by a service dog in most public places, including courthouses. As for riding the subways, they are of course permitted (thanks in part to Robert and Sally), but there are a few subway rules for both service and emotional support animals.

If you enjoyed this story, you may also want to read about Pinky Panky Poo, the tiny dog who paved the way for the Plaza Hotel’s open door policy for small pets.

Cheechee with David Karp, proprietor of Central Cigar Store, 50 Smith Street, Brooklyn. Brooklyn Daily Eagle, December 9, 1949.
Cheechee on her regular stool with David Karp, proprietor of Central Court Cigar Store, 50 Smith Street, Brooklyn. Brooklyn Daily Eagle, December 9, 1949.

When Cheechee disappeared from the Central Court Cigar Store at the corner of Schermerhorn and Smith Streets just a few weeks before Christmas in 1949, everyone in the neighborhood lost some of their holiday cheer. Kids from one to 92 would not have a merry Christmas until Santa brought her back safely.

Cheechee was a lovable cat and good friend to all the Central Courts Building judges, lawyers, prosecutors, and court clerks who purchased their cigars at David Karp’s shop. The children who bought candy and chocolate sodas at the store’s ice cream counter also loved the sociable tiger cat.

Cheechee moved into the cigar store at 50 Smith Street and made it her home in 1941. She spent much of her time at the newsstand, but she also had her own stool at the ice cream counter–even when all the stools were occupied, no one ever thought to make Cheechee give up her seat to a paying customer. Everybody knew that this was the cat’s stool, and no one else could sit there. (Perhaps Cheechee was related to Rusty, the Algonquin Hotel cat who also had his own stool, albeit, his was a bar stool.)

David Karp's Central Court Cigar Store at 50 Smith Street is on the left of this 1940 photo. The Central Courts Building on Schermerhorn Street was across the street, to the left of this view. NYC Department of Records.
David Karp’s Central Court Cigar Store at 50 Smith Street is on the left in this 1940 photo. The Central Courts Building at Smith and Schermerhorn Streets was across the street, to the left of this view. NYC Department of Records.

Cheechee disappeared at 6 p.m. on December 2, which is when Mr. Kern last saw her go for a walk wearing her fur coat of gray and white tiger stripes. After she didn’t return home the next day, Karp began asking everyone to look out for her and call her name.

One of the people who learned of Cheechee’s disappearance was Mrs. Amber Davis, a telephone operator in the nearby Children’s Court at 111 Schermerhorn Street. Mrs. Davis was quite fond of the cat, who often followed her into the court and sat in on the proceedings, “solemnly listening as if trying to help the judge arrive at a just decision.”

Brooklyn Daily Eagle, December 7, 1949,
Brooklyn Daily Eagle, December 7, 1949,

As soon as she heard that Cheechee had not returned home, she contacted the Brooklyn Daily Eagle and requested the newspaper run a story about the missing cat.

“If you see the tiger stripes, call ‘Cheechee!’” Mr. Karp told Mr. Kaufman, the reporter who came to interview the store owner and Mrs. Davis. “If the lady cat thus addressed obviously recognizes her name and answers to it, comes right up to you in a friendly manner, that’s Cheechee.”

One day after the story about Cheechee appeared in the newspaper, the cat returned to the cigar shop and sat down at the counter on her regular stool. It was as if she had never left. The reporter said her reappearance provided “a new, convincing demonstration of the influence, it not the power, of the press.”

“She is well fed and in good condition, as if she had been well treated by someone in the neighborhood, who let her go after reading the story of her disappearance,” Mrs. Davis said. “But you know what? I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that Cheechee was just wandering around and that she read the story—on some other newsstand, of course—and decided to come back.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if a child took Cheechee home to be their pet, and when Mom and Dad read the newspaper, they told the child to return her. But maybe Cheechee did read about her own disappearance, or perhaps Santa checked his list twice and performed some of his magic to bring her back… we can all have fun imagining that one of these events happened.

A Brief History of the Children’s Court

The hero of this cat story is Mrs. Amber Smith, who worked as a telephone operator at Brooklyn’s Children’s Court on Schermerhorn Street. If she hadn’t reached out to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Cheechee may have been lost forever.

The Brooklyn Children's Court at 111 Schermerhorn Street, between Boerum Place and Smith Street. Brooklyn Public Library.
The Brooklyn Children’s Court at 111 Schermerhorn Street, between Boerum Place and Smith Street, 1922. The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (SPCC) is to the left. Brooklyn Public Library.

The original Brooklyn Children’s Court opened at 102 Court Street on September 8, 1903. The bill creating the court was signed April 14, 1903, by Governor Benjamin Baker Odell. The next day, Mayor Seth Low appointed Robert J. Wilkin, superintendent of Brooklyn’s Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (SPCC), to serve as a justice presiding in the new Children’s Court.

The official name of the court was the Municipal Court, First Division: Children’s Court. It was located on the second floor of the circa 1867 Berean Building, which once housed Brooklyn’s branch of the New York Conservatory of Music. From the 1890s to 1903, the building was occupied by a theater called Apollo Hall, which was home to acting and dancing schools and political and social clubs.

Brooklyn's original Children's Court was at 102 Court Street, pictured here in 1921. Brooklyn Public Library
Brooklyn’s original Children’s Court was at 102 Court Street, pictured here in 1921. I wonder if the cigar store at left also had a shop cat? Brooklyn Public Library
The Berean Building in 1922, after the Children's Court had moved out. New York Heritage.
The Berean Building in 1922, after the Children’s Court had moved out. New York Heritage.

On March 13, 1917, Edmund W. Voorhies, Acting President, Borough of Brooklyn, requested the designation of a plot on Schermerhorn Street, between Boerum Place and Smith Street, as the site for a new Children’s Court building. The site, which adjoined the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (SPCC) headquarters building at 105 Schermerhorn Street, had been chosen a month before.

“It has been deemed best by people interested in the matter that this court should be constructed on the north side of Schermerhorn street, between Boerum Place and Smith Street,” he wrote to the Board of Aldermen. “I am sending you herewith a map that shows the exact location and size of this plot, and would ask that you have the proper steps taken to have this location designated as a site for the Children’s Court, in accordance with section 47 of the City Charter.”

The site selected for the new Children's Court was occupied by 5 houses at 107-117 Schermerhorn Street, between Boerum Place and Smith Street. 1898 E.B. Hyde map, New York Public Library
The site selected for the new Children’s Court was occupied by 5 houses at 107-117 Schermerhorn Street, between Boerum Place and Smith Street. 1898 E.B. Hyde map, New York Public Library

The site selected for the court was occupied by five brick residential homes, numbered 107-117 Schermerhorn Street. The city was able to immediately secure options to purchase three of the five homes; the houses at 115 and 117 Schermerhorn Street presented a challenge.

When asked why there was a delay in starting construction on the court building, Brooklyn Borough President Lewis Humphrey Pounds said, “Two old maiden ladies refuse to sell to the city their property, which comprises part of the site selected for the Children’s Court.”

The two “old maiden ladies” were Mrs. Elizabeth Eaton Carver Whittier, a mother and wife of Thomas Tupper Whittier, and her sister, Miss Alice G. Chase, who was living in Japan at this time (Mrs. Whittier chuckled when she heard that the borough president had referred to her as an “old maiden.”)

Elizabeth Eaton Carver, 2nd row, 2nd from left, graduated the Brooklyn Friends School at 116 Schermerhorn Street in 1896.
Elizabeth Eaton Carver (2nd row, 2nd from left) graduated from the Brooklyn Friends School in 1896. The school was directly across from her family’s home at 115 Schermerhorn Street.

The sisters were the daughters of a Maine ship captain, George A. Carver, and his wife, Virginia Eaton Carver. They were also the granddaughters of James C. Eaton, who owned land on Schermerhorn Street in the late 1800s, including the home at 115 Schermerhorn Street. When their mother, Virginia, died in 1913, the sisters inherited the property.

Mrs. Whittier said she had been waiting to get power of attorney from her sister, as she could not sell the property without her sister’s consent.

Justice Robert John Wilkin presided over the Children's Court from 1903 until his death at the age of 67 in 1927.
Justice Robert John Wilkin presided over the Children’s Court from 1903 until his death at the age of 67 in 1927.

“Of course to us it is little less than a tragedy to have to part with this house, which was built by my grandfather, seventy-one years ago, and where I and my sister had expected to reside for the remainder of our lives,” Mrs. Whittier said. “But we realize that the city can take the property by condemnation proceedings, and it would be foolish to let it come to that if the matter can be settled privately on an equitable basis.”

According to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Mrs. Whittier and her sister wanted $18,000 for each of the two homes, but the city was only willing to pay them $14,000 each. A deal must have been made, because a few years later, in June 1920, ground was broken for the new building. By that time, Mr. and Mrs. Whittier and their daughters had moved to 30 Sidney Place.

On October 31, 1921, the Children’s Court moved into its new three-story, Federal-style building. Giving a tour of the new court building to a reporter, Justice Wilkin pointed out the offices of the Big Brother Association on the ground floor and the psychiatrist’s office on the second floor.

As Justice Wilkin told the press, no child was considered a criminal by the Children’s Court, and the only law that the court recognized was the law of humanity.

“It is impossible for a child to commit a crime,” Justice Wilkin said. “A child goes wrong only because of his environment. The Children’s Court is a corrective and not a punitive institution.”

Opening of the new Children's Court on Schermerhorn Street, October 31, 1921. Brooklyn Public Library.
Opening of the new Children’s Court on Schermerhorn Street, October 31, 1921. Brooklyn Public Library.
Another photo from the opening ceremonies at the Children's Court. Brooklyn Public Library
Another photo from the opening ceremonies at the Children’s Court. Brooklyn Public Library
The waiting room on the second floor of the Children's Court, 1922. NYC Department of Records
The waiting room on the second floor of the Children’s Court, 1922. NYC Department of Records

On January 22, 1954, thirty years after the Children’s Court opened on Schermerhorn Street, a cornerstone ceremony for the new Brooklyn Domestic Relations Court Building at 360 Adams Street (Brooklyn Bridge Blvd.) took place. The new six-story building would house the Children’s Court and Family Court, which had become one unit in 1953.

Domestic Relations Court Building
The new Domestic Relations Court Building about 1954. Today this is Brooklyn’s Supreme Court building. Brooklyn Public Library

For the next twenty years, the old Children’s Court building was occupied by the Adolescent Court and then the Landlord and Tenant (Housing) Court. The building was demolished in 1974.

Today, the site of both the old Children’s Court and the Central Court Cigar Shop is occupied by the block-long New York City Transit Authority (aka MTA) headquarters building. The 12-story building was constructed in 1989 and occupies Cheechee’s old stomping grounds–in other words, the entire block bounded by Schermerhorn, Smith, Livingston, and Boerum Place.

The New York City Transit Authority headquarters occupies the entire block bounded by Schermerhorn, Smith, Livingston, and Boerum Place.
The New York City Transit Authority headquarters building. Google Streets

Brooklyn Heights cat
A genuine Brooklyn Heights cat–in 1954. Brooklyn Public Library Collection

Thirty years after the Brooklyn Heights Promenade was completed in 1951, when it was at last basking in popularity, several people came forward to receive bragging rights for designing the public walkway.

A few human engineers took individual credit for conceiving the promenade, while others said it was a team effort. No one brought up the fact that it was a pampered pet cat that first got the ball rolling for the clever and successful concept. Yes, a cat.

On March 19, 1928, residents of what was then called the Heights gathered at the first meeting of the 1st A.D. Republican Club. The purpose of the meeting was to protest against the New York Dock Company’s plans to erect a 10- or 16-story building at the foot of Joralemon Street. The residents feared that this new building, as well as plans to make other waterfront improvements, would put Brooklyn Heights behind a wall of buildings and obstruct their beautiful view.

In attendance were Paul Windels of 10 Pineapple Street, Amy Wren and Henry Ralston–the co-leaders of the 1st A.D. Republican Club–and several other Heights residents.

The Brooklyn Heights Promenade under construction in 1949. Brooklyn Public Library Collection.
The Brooklyn Heights Promenade under construction in 1949. Brooklyn Public Library Collection.

The concerned residents noted that restrictions on the height of buildings between the street ends of Orange and Remsen Streets had been in place ever since the old Pierrepont Farm was sold. However, the remaining waterfront property owned by the dock company was at the company’s disposal to do as it pleased, including building skyscrapers. Furthermore, some residents had heard rumors that the dock company was trying to remove the restrictions that dated to the Pierrepont Farm.

In addition to protesting the building plans, the residents also proposed constructing a promenade for children to play on, along the line of warehouses between Furman Street and the waterfront. The group established a committee to investigate this idea.

Amy Wren of Brooklyn Heights, 1928
Ms. Wren wanted a space for everyone to enjoy, not just pampered cats.

So where does the cat come in?

It was Amy Wren who put the cat into play.

According to Ms. Wren, the present system of shutting off all the mini parks and gardens at the ends of the various streets was a detriment to the community. The fences prevented children and other members of the public from having safe spaces to play and enjoy the waterfront. The only park area opened at this time was the one at the foot of Montague Street.

“A cat was the cause, I believe, for the closing of the other parks,” Ms. Wren said.

“I’m told that some lady wanted to have her own pedigreed cat given the exclusive right to promenade in one of them and so persuaded the city authorities to build a fence around to keep out the other cats of the common variety. I don’t know why we have these little places all fenced around so nobody can get in but cats.”

Could this fenced-in area at the end of Clark Street be where the pedigreed cat promenaded in 1928?
Was this the fenced-in garden that the pedigreed cat had all to himself?

Mr. Windels took the ball and ran with it, suggesting that a pedestrian promenade along the tops of the factory buildings could provide a play area for children as well as an alternative to the fenced-in private parks and gardens that were currently only accessible by cats and their well-to-do owners.

Furman Street and Montague Streets, 1929
Surrounded by the old warehouses and the Brooklyn Heights retaining wall, Furman Street, pictured here near the foot of Montague Street in 1929, was dark and cavernous. In 1928, residents suggested building a promenade atop the warehouses. NYPL digital collections.

“Many people are afraid to have their children play in the streets,” he said. “Such a place, with a high fence on each side, would make an excellent playground. Tennis courts might even be built there.”

Mr. Windels surmised that a walkway would not be all that expensive, as they would only need to acquire the overhead easements.

The suggestion to build a promenade atop the old factory buildings was apparently well received and considered. By 1931, the Regional Plan Association was advocating for the construction of parks on top of the buildings as well as a marginal railroad along Furman Street topped by an overhead traffic road.

Of course, the social and political history behind the Brooklyn Heights Promenade is much more complicated than this cat story. But years of discussions and planning and disagreements culminated in 1943, at a hearing before the City Planning Commission.

At this hearing, a proposal was presented for two roadways of three lanes each in either direction to be built side-by-side on top of the Heights escarpment. A deck above the cantilevered highway would serve not for private gardens and privileged cats but as a public esplanade for everyone to enjoy, including humans and cats (and dogs) of all classes.

Demolition of the inland warehouses on Furman Street began in the fall of 1946, followed by construction of the new roadway and esplanade. The southern half of the Brooklyn Heights Promenade opened to the public on October 7, 1950, and a year later, the northern half opened.

The Pierrepont Farm

Hezekiah Beers Pierrepont (The Eagle and Brooklyn, 1898).

The principal developer of Brooklyn Heights was Hezekiah Beers Pierrepont, whose recorded family history dates to Sir Hugh, Lord of the Castle of Pierrepont, in Picaardy, France (A.D. 980). Hezekiah was born in New Haven, Connecticut on November 3, 1768. At the age of 22, he settled in New York City, where he worked as a clerk at the Customs House.

Following his marriage to Anna Marie Constable in 1802 (Anna was a descendent of Cornelius Dirckson Hoaglandt, the first ferry master in Brooklyn), Hezekiah moved to what was then called Clover Hill in Brooklyn. There, he purchased the old Benson farm, including the Four Chimneys mansion (also called the Cornell mansion), and what remained of Philip Livingston’s distillery at the foot of Joralemon Street.

He added a wing to the old frame mansion and a windmill to the distillery, and he constructed a footbridge to span the ditch that ran down through his property to the waterfront.

The Four Chimneys mansion, orchards, gardens, ditch, and outbuildings are noted on this 1820 map of the Pierrepont Farm. Brooklyn Heights
The Four Chimneys mansion, orchards, gardens, ditch, and outbuildings are noted on this 1820 map of the Pierrepont Farm.

The mansion, which stood near present-day Pierrepont Place and Montague Street, was surrounded by lush gardens and orchards, and was a popular destination for courting couples. Many people during this time reportedly dug holes among the hills of the Heights in search of Captain Kidd’s treasure–some folks dug holes on the Pierrepont property, thinking they’d strike gold.

Four Chimneys also had great historical value. During the Revolutionary War, George Washington maintained his headquarters here during the Battle of Long Island. According to news reports, a signal station was set up on the roof to allow for communications with New York. Washington sent orders to his troops from this rooftop station.

The home, surrounded by the estates of the Ludlows, Middaghs, Hunts, Warings, and other prominent Brooklyn families, was also where the first draft of the act incorporating the Village of Brooklyn took place on January 9, 1816.

Four Chimneys, also known as the Cornell-Pierrepont Mansion. Anna Maria Pierrepont lived in this home until it was demolished in 1946.
Four Chimneys, also known as the Cornell-Pierrepont Mansion. Anna Maria Pierrepont lived in this home until it was demolished in 1846.
Four Chimneys mansion
Brooklyn Heights
Another view of the Four Chimneys mansion. Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 1930.

Hezekiah was a strong supporter of development, and he focused his own real estate investments in the Brooklyn Heights neighborhood. He purchased most of the area between Joralemon Street and Love Lane, and from Fulton Street to the river (all this land had formerly been owned by the Remsen, Livingston, and De Bevoise families).

Incidentally, Hezekiah had also envisioned a promenade from Fulton Ferry to Joralemon Street. According to an article about the Pierrepont family published in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle in June 1901, the public space that he envisioned would feature trees, flowers, benches, and playgrounds for the children, and the ground would have sloped down to the waterfront, where the public could bathe on a clean gravel beach.

Using his position as a village trustee, Pierrepont offered the village free land for such a promenade. Some reports say he withdrew the offer when one of his neighbors, Judge Peter W. Radcliffe, objected to the proposal. Other reports claim that multiple property owners fought this idea, fearing they would be assessed too heavily for these improvements.

When the promenade proposal met a dead end, Hezekiah proposed another idea whereby a series of “magnificent stone wharves and bulkheads” would line the waterfront. Sheds and other structures would occupy the wharves, and stone, fireproof warehouses would serve as retaining walls for the Heights. The Brooklyn Daily Eagle noted that this idea was also before its time.

Hezekiah Beers Pierrepont died in Brooklyn on August 11, 1838. Although his waterfront vision would soon become a reality, it would be ninety years before a pedigreed Brooklyn Heights cat started the ball rolling again on his vision for a public promenade.

Entrance to the Brooklyn Heights Promenade
Entrance to the Brooklyn Heights Promenade at Pierrepont Place and Montague Street.
Edgard Allan Poe and Caterina the cat at Poe Cottage in the Bronx
Caterina served as Poe’s muse while he lived at Poe Cottage in the Fordham section of the Bronx in the 1840s.

Many historians and fans of Edgar Allan Poe are no doubt familiar with Catarina, the cat who served as Poe’s muse while he was living in his old cottage in Fordham. But I bet you’d be hard-pressed to find many people, if any at all, who know about Jig or the other black cat of Poe Cottage.

Thanks to a lengthy article about the cottage in The New York Times in 1915, we do have proof that Jig lived in the famous Poe Cottage 70 years after the death of Caterina. An article in the Kansas City Star in 1905 also provides proof that at least one other black cat lived at the cottage.

Edgar Allan Poe, who spent many years in New York City in the 1830s and 1840s, was one of many writers of this period who received inspiration from a feline. Poe, who wrote “The Black Cat” in 1843, had at least two cats in his lifetime: one, a female he described as “one of the most remarkable black cats in the world,” and the other, a cat named Caterina who served as his muse while he was living in the Bronx.

Caterina, described as a large tortoiseshell cat, would often sit and purr on Poe’s shoulders as he wrote. She also served as a companion for Poe’s wife, Virginia, during the woman’s final years. Caterina would often lie in the bed with her to help keep her warm in the cold Fordham cottage.

Caterina in front of the Poe Cottage fireplace
Is this a depiction of Caterina in front of the Poe Cottage fireplace or was another cat living there in the 1890s?, New York Times, February 14, 1897

Sadly, Caterina’s tale does not have a happy ending: she report­edly died of starvation when Virginia’s mother, Maria Clemm (also Poe’s aunt), deserted the cat after Poe died in October 1849. But considering how many cats led deplorable lives in antebellum New York City, Caterina had a good life in the Bronx while Poe was alive and caring for her.

Poe Cottage: From Valentine to Victor

Poe Cottage, 1913
Poe Cottage as it looked when Jig the cat lived there, after it was moved into Poe Park in 1913.

The tiny cottage on Kingsbridge Road in Fordham was reportedly built in 1812 by John Wheeler on lands belonging to John B. Valentine, whose family, including the Cromwell family by marriage, owned large estates in the neighborhood.

Poe paid about $100 a year for the cottage, which had previously served as a field hands residence. The Valentines occupied a home across the way on present-day Briggs Avenue. The Valentine family often shared vegetables and milk with Poe and his family.

Valentine homestead, Fordham
The Valentine homestead in Fordham. New York Times, March 1906.

During the 19th century, the Poe Cottage had several owners. James Coles, a blacksmith, first purchased the cottage from the Valentine family. It was later owned by Henry Stony, John Berrian, and Phillip Duffey; Duffey also owned the old Fordham Hotel, beginning in 1854.

Fordham Hotel
Phillip Duffey, a one-time owner of Poe Cottage, also owned the Fordham Hotel on the corner of present-day Fordham Road and Webster Avenue, where Poe would sometimes stop to have a drink. 

In 1889, three years after a large auction, the land about Poe Cottage was laid out in building lots. William Fearing Gill, author of the book “The Life of Edgar Allan Poe,” purchased the cottage and surrounding lands to save it from destruction.

Gill sold the cottage to brothers Patrick and Charles Kary, who in turn sold the house at auction to Austin Ford (about 1890). Ford sold it to Dr. E. J. Chauvet, DDS, who saw the cottage as a good investment opportunity (for many years, he said he would not sell the cottage for anything less than $10,000).

The land around and including Poe Cottage was auctioned in 1886. NYPL digital collections.
The land (18 lots) around and including Poe Cottage (at top left) was auctioned in 1886. NYPL digital collections.

Dr. Chauvet, a dentist, built his own house near the cottage while renting Poe Cottage for a source of income. When the cottage had to be moved about 25 feet in 1896 to make room for the widening of Kingsbridge Road, it practically touched Chauvet’s own house.

One of Dr. Chauvet’s tenants was Mr. Healy, a stonecutter who lived in the cottage with his family when the cottage was smack next to Dr. Chauvet’s house (this may be Mr. Healy in the photo below).

One day in April 1905, while the Healys were living there, a reporter with camera in hand came looking for the cottage.

“Wait till I shoo that darned cat away,” a young boy told the reporter as he focused his camera on the tiny white cottage.

“Stop!” the reporter yelled, but the young buy chased the cat away, not having a clue why the reporter wanted the black cat to remain on the porch while he took the photo.

Poe Cottage and home of Dr. Chauvet, 1898
The Poe Cottage next to Dr. Chauvet’s house in 1898, two years after the cottage was moved for the widening of Kingsbridge Road.

In 1913, 11 years after New York City created Poe Park, the city acquired the cottage for $3,000. The city paid an additional $2,000 to move the house 450 feet north of its original location to the northeast corner of the new park, near the Grand Concourse and East 193rd Street.  

Orville Guy Victor was the won of Orville James Victor, a well-known author and editor of “dime novels.”

Upon acquiring the cottage, the city searched for a couple or small family who would be interested in keeping the cottage open to visitors and caring for it in lieu of rent. Oliver Guy Victor, a struggling poet who had advocated for the cottage’s removal to the park, jumped on the opportunity.

Orville, his wife, and their daughter, Marian, moved into Poe Cottage on November 5, 1913. Ten days later, the cottage was opened to the public. The small museum had few visitors at first, but by 1915, the Victors were receiving 60 to 75 visitors a day.

The Victor family lived in the upper rooms of the cottage. They also had access to the basement, which was added for their use. The basement contained the family’s kitchen, dining room, and pantry, and also included a modern furnace for a steam heating system.

One day in 1915, a visitor asked if the black cat walking about the museum was Poe’s cat. No, the Victors said, the cat was not a Poe cat nor the ghost of Caterina. He was the pet of the Victors, and his name was Jig. (Did the Victors bring the cat to the cottage, or could this have been the same cat that lived there with the Healy family in 1905?)

New York Times, August 29, 1915
New York Times, August 29, 1915
Mrs. Orville Guy Victor

Aside from this cameo appearance in The New York Times in August 1915, nothing else has been reported about Jig–at least nothing I can find. Perhaps, though, this black cat was also a muse for a poet.

Like Poe, Orville Victor was a struggling writer, and he often burned the candle at both ends to support his family. In January 1914 he suffered a nervous breakdown and was sent to a sanitarium on Long Island for 18 months.

During that time, Mrs. Victor became a champion for Poe, doing all she could to turn an empty cottage into a tribute to the poet who wrote “The Bells, “Annabel Lee,” the “The Cask of Amontillado” while living there.

Orville returned to the cottage in the spring of 1915. Working with the Bronx Society of Arts and Sciences, which was chiefly responsible for the purchase of the cottage and the creation of the park, he and his wife encouraged collectors of Poe memorabilia to lend their items to the museum. Poe’s rocking chair, bookcase, silverware, and other items began to fill Poe Cottage.

Poe’s cat, Caterina, had already crossed the rainbow decades before, but a cat named Fig took her place in the new Poe Cottage museum. The former home of Edgar Allan Poe was the perfect place for a black cat of Old New York.

Poe Cottage
Poe Cottage