Like this vintage kitty, Tom was an Epicurean cat who loved to dine on scallops at Gage & Tollner, one of Brooklyn’s best seafood restaurants in the twentieth century.
At 20 pounds, Tom was less than half the weight of Dan, the 48-pound fire cat of Engine 40, but 20 pounds was enough to earn him some press in the Brooklyn Standard Union. In fact, the news reporter suggested that Tom, the feline patron on Gage & Tollner, was the rival of Jiggs, the overweight Dalmatian of Engine 205 who weighed in at 120 pounds.
Unlike Jiggs, who was more than willing to dine at many downtown Brooklyn restaurants (although Joe’s at 326-334 Fulton Street was his favorite), Tom was “a one-restaurant cat,” according to Seth Bradford Dewey, the president and general manager of Gage & Tollner. He would not frequent any other eating establishments, and he’d only eat breaded scallops at the restaurant’s oyster bar.
Tom would not eat at any restaurant but Gage & Tollner on Fulton Street, pictured here in the 1940s or 1950s.
Tom and his brother cat were born in the famous restaurant in 1917, when Gage & Tollner was on the ground floor of the circa 1875 Craft building at 372-374 Fulton Street. No one knows what happened to his mother and brother, but Tom “apparently recognized his proper sphere in life” and stayed on at Gage & Taylor, where he dined on scallops alongside great icons like Mae West and Jimmy Durante.
Seth Bradford Dewey
According to Dewey, Tom occasionally did some work to earn his keep, or at least what he considered work. His job was to sit in the cars of various patrons and keep watch while they were dining at night.
Sometimes a patron would try to drive off while Tom was still at his valet job. Tom would yowl so loudly that people on the street thought someone was kidnapping a human baby.
“He’s a cat of regular habits, all right,” Dewey said. “He’s always around at closing time. He sleeps here. Although once and a while he wanders off.”
One night, when Dewey returned to work on Monday after the weekend off, the head waiter said that Tom had disappeared. Just at that moment, Tom strolled in, climbed up on the oyster bar, and drank all the ice water he could hold.
Asked how Tom had taken to Prohibition, Dewey told the reporter he would not reveal the cat’s opinion on this matter.
In April 1924, a birthday party took place at Gage & Tollner to celebrate the fifth anniversary of Seth Dewey’s ownership of the establishment. According to Brooklyn Life, “Even Tom, the famous twenty-pound cat who watches the cars belonging to patrons…took part in the gala celebration.”
Tom preferred the oyster bar over the wait service at Gage & Tollner.
A Brief History of the Craft Building
The popular Gage & Tollner oyster bar and chophouse dates back to 1879, when Charles M. Gage opened an oyster house at 302 Fulton Street. Two years later, Gage partnered with Eugene Tollner, a cigar salesman and one of Gage’s regular customers. In 1892, the partners moved their restaurant uptown into the circa 1875 Craft building at 372-374 Fulton Street, which is where Tom the cat lived and dined.
X marks the spot of Gage & Tollner on Fulton Street, just east of the old Red Hook Lane. J.B. Beers 1874 Farm Line Map.
Eugene Tollner
The Craft building was just east of Red Hook Lane, an old trail used by the Canarsee natives that provided the only access from the heights of Brooklyn (Brooklyn Heights) to Red Hook. It was also a major transportation road for the Continental Army and the British during the American Revolution.
Old records show that in 1818, the Fulton Street property was sold as part of the Teunis I. Johnson farm to Brooklyn Mayor Samuel Smith (the old Smith mansion was at 16 Smith Street). The nine-acre parcel commanded a beautiful view of the Wallabout Bay and featured mature asparagus beds, English cherry trees, two houses, a barn, and a store.
Smith constructed the four-story building at 372-374 Fulton Street and leased the store and basement to John Craft, who ran a tailoring business in the 1870s. After Smith died in 1872, Craft purchased the building and lot from the Smith estate at an auction on February 27, 1873. When Craft died in 1898 at the age of 78, the land was deeded to his widow, and when she died in 1913, the property was willed to Miss Ida A. Craft and her niece.
Charles Gage passed away in 1919 and Eugene Tollner died in 1935. I do not know how long Tom the cat lived, but I’m sure he lived a long, happy, scallop-filled life.
When Martin Cook received his promotion to captain of Engine 4 in 1886, the company received two horses, Dan and Dick. At this time, Engine 4 was a few blocks north of Old Slip, in a narrow, four-story brick firehouse at 39 Liberty Street (now the site of the Federal Reserve Bank), diagonally across from the Old Post Office building on Nassau Street. This was the heart of the city’s financial district, and the little firehouse was dwarfed by large brick and stone buildings housing the United States Treasury, Custom House, New York Stock Exchange, and dozens of banks and insurance firms.
The old Engine Company 4 firehouse was situated between Liberty Street and Maiden Lane, just across from the Old Post Office, as shown on the 1879 Bromley map. NYPL Digital Collections
Their house may have been small, but Dan and Dick were up for the challenge of protecting these world-famous institutions. Even as the two horses aged, they did the city and the FDNY proud. Captain Cook often received offers to trade in his team for younger animals, but he always turned them down. According to the FDNY veteran, there was not a more reliable, more careful, or faster team of fire horses in America.
Just to the east of Dick and Dan’s firehouse was a five-story brick building at 37 Liberty Street. When workmen demolished the walls of No. 37 in May 1893, it became evident that the eastern wall of the engine house could not stand on its own without the support of the larger building.
The contractor told Captain Cook that he would not be responsible for the safety of the men and their horses should they get called to a fire. The vibration created by the engine, tender, and horses could easily take the walls down. Rather than take any chances, the captain ordered the engine house cleared of everything on the first floor. This task required precision and slow work.
First, the men carefully lead the horse whose stall was closest to the threatening wall (either Dan or Dick) to the pole, where he was joined by his mate. The men snapped on the collars and lines, and gently and slowly drove the engine to the street.
During the company’s early years on Liberty Street, Dan and Dick pulled an 1861 Amoskeag Manufacturing steam fire engine, similar to this one pictured here.
After removing all the hose, they took the same steps with the fuel tender. The men threw blankets over Dan and Dick and then lit a fire under the engine boiler to keep up the requisite steam pressure. Then the men and their horses camped out for the night.
On May 19, 1893, the city condemned the old firehouse and Engine 4 relocated to the firehouse of Ladder 15 at 73 Water Street, where they stayed for the next seventeen years.
By 1897, Dan was about eighteen years old and had more than fourteen years of service in the department. In all those years, he was never ill, and he never missed a fire or false alarm below Houston Street. According to Captain Martin, who had more than twenty-years of service, Dan had ran with the engine or tender to 3,600 calls.
On May 19, 1893, Engine 4 temporarily relocated to 73 Water Street at Old Slip, then home to Ladder 15. When this photo was taken in the 1930s, Engine 10 was sharing the firehouse with Ladder 15. The Old Slip police station is just visible on the far left. NYPL Digital Collections
Dan was also a gentleman horse, always “shaking hands” with visitors and displaying “wonderful masculine instinct in his preference for fair womankind when he is asked for a kiss.” (He always kissed the ladies “with evident relish.”)
Dick was a bit younger, but he was also “exceedingly amiable in disposition.” The children loved visiting and playing with the good-natured horses, whose stables were just a few yards off the street. The children would timidly approach Dan and Dick and pat them on the nose, “shake hands” with Dan, or kiss them and scamper away.
One day a little girl who was bolder than the other children entered Dan’s stall and settled down on the soft bedding. Within minutes, she had fallen “into a peaceful slumber.” At this moment, an alarm sounded on the fire gong, sending every man scurrying to his place.
Dick dashed to his engine, but Dan didn’t budge. The men looked on in wonder as Dan peered anxiously out of his stall, this being the first time in fourteen years that he had failed to respond to a call. One of the men looked into the stall and discovered the cause of the delay.
Dan had figured out that if he had moved, he would have crushed the little girl. The fireman picked up the sleeping child and the noble Dan dashed to his place, “seemingly pleased with his heroism.”
In 1900, Engine Company 4 moved into a new, three-story brick and stone firehouse at 119 Maiden Lane. Incidentally, in September 1885, the company responded to a fire that demolished the previous building at at this address, then occupied by A. Montejo, a dealer in loaf tobacco, and by Bullard & Wheeler, dealers in bagging and ties. Engine Company 4 Foreman Thomas Conlin died in this fire, as did a civilian named John Donnelly
Today, Engine 4 and Ladder 15 are still at Old Slip, albeit in a 36-story skyscraper at 32 Old Slip (alt 42 South Street), which was completed in 1897. The building looms over Old Slip Park, where Dan and Dick spent many years in the old firehouse at 73 Water Street.
Engine 4 and Ladder 15 share the large station house in the skyscraper at 32 Old Slip/42 South Street.
Although the Old Slip police building still stands, the small Old Slip Park occupies the former site of the Engine 4/Station 15 firehouse pictured above.
The young dog walker attracted much attention from the passersby on Fifth Avenue, just as this woman is doing here.
The Dog Walker: “The girl was apparently having more fun out of the walk than the dog, who did not seem to be enjoying himself particularly. That was not surprising, for what respectable and self-respecting hunting dog would like to be obliged to trot along Fifth Avenue every morning with an attendant to give him the exercise he could give himself so much better if he were only allowed the privilege?”–New York Times, January 15, 1899
During the late 1800s and early 1900s, it was perfectly normal to see the high-society ladies or their attendants walking their lap dogs down Fifth Avenue or through Central Park. It was not normal, however, to see a girl of the lower classes walking a large dog down Millionaire’s Row.
One rainy Friday morning in January 1899, a young girl wearing a grey suit, with the skirt at ankle length, attracted every passerby as she “seemed to take in what was apparently a morning constitutional.” Although there was a constant drizzle falling–half rain and half sleet–she carried no umbrella. All she carried was a leash, to which a handsome Irish setter was attached.
Approached by a curious reporter for the New York Times, the young dog walker explained that she was getting paid to walk the dog. The reporter did some investigating into this curious new dog walker career.
According to the reporter, a woman of means had walked into the the Exchange for Women’s Work on Thirtieth Street and asked the manager, “Haven’t you some one on your books I can get to exercise my dog for me?”
The manager was no doubt thrown off by the question, because up to that point, the “work” that was sold at the Exchange was typically handiwork such as crocheted shawls and knitted sweaters. Never before had someone requested a professional dog walker to exercise their pups.
Around the same time, the young girl registered at the Exchange for Women’s Work in order to find employment while she waited for a “regular profession” that she was expecting to start in the spring. The manager told her that there was in fact an opportunity if she would be interested in walking other women’s dogs. The young woman accepted the dog walker job.
The Times reporter concluded:
“Now the young woman’s mornings are all engaged wandering up and down Fifth Avenue exercising society pets for the sum of $10 a month for an hour a day and $6 for half an hour a day. It is a good thing for the young woman, it is a blessing for the dogs, as it is the best thing they can get inside the city limits, and it is a great satisfaction to the fond owners of the dogs. So there is a new profession, and at least one woman is helping to support herself by means of it.”
Dog Days of Gotham: Free Virtual Tour
Speaking of dogs: Just a quick reminder that on Saturday, May 7, at 11 a.m., I will be leading a virtual presentation for the Municipal Art Society of New York called “The Dog Days of Gotham.”
During the 40-minute Zoom presentation, I will talk about four of my favorite high-society dog owners of the early 20th century–a time when lap dogs were as much a status symbol for wealthy socialites as were their diamonds and furs.
Registration for this free event is required in advance. To register, Click Here.
A Brief History of New York’s Exchange for Women’s Work
Undated photo, Women’s Exchange of St. Louis
The Woman’s Exchange Movement in the United States began in 1832, when the Philadelphia Ladies’ Depository was first established. New York’s Exchange for Women’s Work opened its doors in May 1878.
Exchanges were non-profit establishments usually founded by wealthy philanthropic women to help women in need earn a living without having to leave their homes. The women sold their embroidery work, quilt work, and other handmade items–or offered sewing and knitting services–to wealthy woman who patronized the exchanges.
In New York City, textile designer Candace Wheeler and philanthropist Mary Atwater Choate wanted to help middle-class widows who had lost their husbands during the Civil War support their families. Back then, social standards dictated that middle- and upper-class women who worked outside the home would lose their social status. This cruel social norm left women with no choice: either lose their position in society or let their families slip into poverty.
Candace Wheeler
Mrs. Wheeler and Mrs. Choate each gathered some wealthy women friends, who invited a few more friends, and after “much doubtful discussion,” decided to give their idea a shot. Their idea was to “furnish a depot where gentlewomen in reduced circumstances may find customers for useful and ornamental articles of their own handwork.” Women of means could also place orders “for any variety of work” with “persons competent and anxious to fill them.”
The first home of the New York Exchange for Women’s Work was in the Choate parlor at 108 East 31st Street. On the first day, the exchange started with one table of articles, including “crocheted tea cozies, ‘God-Bless-Our-Home’ samplers, stiff, unprickable pincushions, and pictures painful to the eye of the beholder.” According to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, the one article that saved the day was a beautiful white shawl.
Mary Atwater Choate
By April 1893, the Exchange had grown out of the rooms it was renting at 329 Fifth Avenue. They were too small, and there was no room to add an educational department, so the managers wanted to raise $200,000 to buy a building of their own.
During a fund-raising event at Madison Square Garden II, Joseph Hodges Choate, United States Ambassador to the United Kingdom, provided a simple way to raise the money while stressing that there was not one man in the audience who could ever know how soon his wife or daughter could one day “be reduced to the circumstances of those beneficiaries for which this society has been organized”:
“The managers of this exchange now ask that the people of this city, who can afford it, shall provide them with a building where they can properly conduct their work. It’s an easy matter for this audience to raise $200,000. I see before me men who could raise it alone. I would say to the managers, however, pick out your millionaires, there are said to be 1,200 of them in this city.
Their money is corrupting them and their families all the time, and no one knows it better than they do. Each one of you pick out your millionaire, take him by the throat, and ask him for his money. Don’t approach him through his wife…Let them go down in Wall and Broad and New Streets and in all the streets where great piles of money walk around on two legs in human form and ask for what you want.”
Take them by the throat? Talk about putting your money where your mouth is!
The Exchange for Women’s Work at 12 East 30th Street. NYC Department of Records, 1940 tax photo
Apparently, the plan worked. By the summer of 1894, the Exchange for Woman’s Work had moved into its new four-story home at 12 East 30th Street.
Items for sale that opening week included “pincushions and the daintiest of toilet articles, pretty China and embroidered old linen, exquisite large screens, and any number of things.” There was also a lunchroom which served luncheon every day except Saturday from noon to 3 for “little theatre parties, ladies out shopping, and occasionally a man or two.”
The Exchange continued to grow–it even offered a finishing school for young women, with a focus on history, literature, and reading. Over the years, the Exchange moved several times, from a four-story home at 334 Madison Avenue in 1901, which they purchased from the Carey family to a large, five-story building at 541 Madison Avenue with a large restaurant on the ground floor.
The restaurant offered such diverse items as bittersweet chocolate cake and home-baked crab cakes, codfish balls and fancy wedding cakes. It was a place to eat well and be seen at a moderate cost.
When it closed in 2003 due to the high rent and overhead costs, the Exchange was located at 149 East 60th Street. According to the New York Times, during its final days, there was a blue crocheted shawl and framed needlepoint art of a lighthouse, two white hand-knitted baby sweaters, and a handful of cream-colored antique bowls on display in the front window.
There was no dog walker or doggie in the window. (Perhaps if there were, someone would have asked, “How much?”)
The Exchange for Women’s Work at 541 Madison Avenue. NYC Department of Records, 1940 tax photo
Mrs. Patrick Campbell and her monkey griffon, Pinky Panky Poo, paved the way for the first doggie day care center.
Saturday, May 7, 2022 11:00 a.m. EST
On Saturday, May 7, I will be leading a virtual presentation for the Municipal Art Society of New York called “The Dog Days of Gotham.” The presentation will be one of hundreds of virtual and guided tours that will take place the weekend of May 6-8 as part of Jane’s Walk NYC. Link to register is below.
During the 40-minute Zoom presentation, I will talk about some high-society pet dogs of the early 20th century, a time when lap dogs were as much a status symbol for wealthy socialites as were their diamonds and furs.
Join me as I share four of my favorite stories of wealthy and eccentric women of the Gilded Age and the dogs they adored. Hear about:
The monkey griffon that paved the way for doggie day care and the Plaza Hotel’s open pet policy
The French poodle with a $1 million dog yard on Fifth Avenue
The pampered French bulldogs that lived with a princess at the Gilsey House
The princess who lived at the Plaza Hotel with her pet dogs, alligators, bear cub, and lion cub
Registration for this free event is required in advance. To register, go directly to the link below (Click on The Dog Days of Gotham).
Jane’s Walks are organized by a network of city organizers around the world. Jane Jacobs (1916-2006) was a writer, urbanist, and activist who championed the voices of everyday people in neighborhood planning and city building. Jane’s Walk is a community-based approach to city building that uses volunteer-led tours to make space for people to observe, reflect, share, question, and re-imagine the places in which they live, work, and play.
I am available for virtual author events across the United States and for in-person presentations in the New York City metropolitan region (including northern New Jersey and the Hudson Valley). If your organization or library is interested in hosting a program, please contact me at pgavan@optline.net. Click here for more information.
Pansy the cat-saving fire dog receives her free SPCA dog license from Special Agent George J. Salzer following her first rescue. NY Daily News, May 3, 1931.
In the mid 1930s, Engine Company 203 in Brooklyn had a veteran cat-saving fire dog that rescued several felines during his long career. For his heroics, “Nipper” received four commendations.
Nipper was not the only cat-saving fire dog who received rewards. A few years before this popular dog made his saves, Pansy of Engine Company 225 on Liberty Avenue in Brooklyn was rewarded for making her first rescue in May 1931—she raced into a burning building and chased out a cat.
Pansy was attached to the Liberty Avenue police station, but she ran to all the fires with Engine 225.
Although Pansy officially belonged to Police Emergency Squad 14 attached to the Liberty Avenue police station (the men had found her almost dead the previous summer and used an oxygen tank to revive her), the dog was a fire buff who answered all alarms with the nearby firehouse.
Following the cat rescue, Special Agent George J. Salzer of the S.P.C.A. presented Engine 255 Captain John H. Doherty with a free license for Pansy. The men told the press, “When there are more and better rescues to be made, Pansy will make them.”
Another cat-saving fire dog was Happy, who was attached to Engine 36 on Park Avenue two decades earlier.
Happy was attached to Engine 36, which was then located at 1849 Park Avenue.
On February 26, 1910, the East Harlem company responded to a fire in an apartment on the top floor of a tenement building at 2162 Fifth Avenue. During the fire, which was caused by an overturned oil lamp, Happy ran into the building with the firemen. He seized a Maltese cat by the nape of its neck and carried it outside.
About five hundred people, kept back by the reserves of the West 126th Street police station, cheered when the dog placed the cat on the sidewalk. According to the men, the cat had protested vigorously at first, and even scratched Happy on the nose, but the dog overlooked this indignity as he carried out his duties.
Back at headquarters, Happy reportedly refused to confirm or deny this part of the story. The cat did not confirm or deny overturning the lamp that started the fire.
