This is not a vintage photo of Chappie, a bull terrier, but this pit bull fits his description.

One of my favorite fire-cat stories of Old New York is about Peter and Chops, the beloved firefighter felines of Engine Company No. 14 in New York City’s Flatiron District.

When I wrote the story about Peter and Chops for my book, The Cat Men of Gotham, I didn’t realize that they had a canine predecessor. I recently discovered the wonderful story of Chappie, a pedigree bull terrier* coach dog who also called the Engine 14 firehouse his home.

According to The Sun, (and as Virginia knows, if you see it in The Sun it’s so), Chappie came of the best blue blood in England, having been imported to America by William Waldorf Astor, the son of John Jacob Astor III. Astor, who at one time lived in a mansion on the corner of Fifth Avenue and 33rd Street (which he razed to build the original Waldorf Hotel), reportedly presented the dog to the fire company on East 18th Street in 1889.

Everybody in the Flatiron District–or what was then called the Eighteenth Ward–knew Chappie, described as a 45-pound white bull terrier whose “ferocious looks utterly belied him.”

Chappie was especially attached to anyone wearing a fireman’s uniform, but he was also friendly with civilians. He also loved all the children in the neighborhood, who were his playmates.

William Waldorf Astor - Wikipedia
Chappie was reportedly a gift from William Waldorf Astor

The only time Chappie lost his temper was when a policeman was in sight. He could not tolerate that uniform and could tell at a glance that it did not belong to a fireman (apparently, a policeman once used his stick on Chappie, so the police were not his friends).

Chappie was very loyal to his firemen friends, though, whether he was with them at fires or guarding the firehouse. While strangers were permitted to make friendly advances outside the door, “a snarl and a gleam of ugly teeth warned against trespassing inside.”

One time, when Chappie was alone in the firehouse, Police Commissioner James J. Martin dared to come inside. Chappie did not allow Commissioner Martin to leave until the firemen returned.

According to The Sun, Chappie was “a faithful attendant” at all fires. As soon as the gongs started ringing, he would cock his ears and wait to see if he was wanted. He reportedly understood the signals and would not stir if the alarm denoted a fire outside the company’s boundaries in the Flatiron District.

Chappie, fire dog of the Flatiron District, 1892
 The Evening World
Illustration of Chappie, The Evening World, 1892

When the gongs sounded a fire for Engine Company No. 14, Chappie would race around with “an absurd energy” as soon as the doors were thrown open, playfully snapping at everyone, tumbling over himself, and incessantly barking as if he were saying, “Come now, get a move on you; no time to be lost; rush her along.”

Chappie was always in his glory on his way to a fire. He would bound ahead of the galloping team, furiously barking and springing up between the horses’ legs.

Spectators would close their eyes, expecting to see him get trampled or crushed. But on most occasions, he would come racing out from under the flying hoofs and lead the procession once again, biting and barking and urging the horses on.

Once on the scene of the fire, Chappie would calm down and sit on the driver’s seat, comfortably wagging his stub of a tail as he watched his friends work. Sometimes he would bark a few times to encourage them.

During his three short years with Engine Company No. 14, Chappie sustained several injuries. He lost a piece of his tail while leading the horses, his leg was broken, and he was often bruised. But none of those injuries could stop him from doing what he loved most.

One time when Chappie was sick, the men tied him to the oaken staircase in the firehouse and rushed to the fire, thinking he was secure at home. As they rounded a corner, they heard children shouting. There was Chappie, running alongside the horses with a rope still around his neck. (The other part of the rope was still tied to the staircase.)

But then one fateful night, as the engine was responding to a box alarm at Twenty-third Street and Third Avenue, Chappie broke his paw in two places. The firemen bandaged him up and placed him on the sick list.

Determined to respond to every call even when injured, he joined the engine the following night when it responded to a fire on Broadway between Ninth and Tenth Avenues. Chappie reportedly ran to the scene on three legs.

On that call, Chappie got underneath the horses’ feet and went down. As he tried to right himself, either the pan of the engine or the pumps caught him in the back and crushed him to the pavement. The firemen cried as they carried their maimed Chappie back to the station.

Dr. Thomas D. Sherwood, a veterinary surgeon (who was also the vet for General Daniel E. Sickles’ dog, Bo-Bo), examined Chappie and found a fractured spine, a broken leg, and several internal injuries. At first the firemen wanted to shoot the dog to put him out of his misery, but they later decided to try to save him. They rigged a canvas bandage on two billiard cues above an open dry goods box to suspend their injured fire dog.

An illustration of Chappie suspended over the dry goods box.

Dr. Sherwood took great interest in the case, calling several times that day. There was a bit of hope at first, but then Chappie gave evidence that he was suffering even more in his suspended position. The men tried to make him as comfortable as possible in a pile of the horses’ straw. They also gave him some opiates to help ease the pain.

Chappie died in his firehouse home at 2 a.m. on March 23, 1892. Shortly after his death, Peter and Chops took over as mascots of Engine Company Number 14.

A Brief History of the Flatiron District and Engine Company No. 14

Before the Flatiron Building, 1884
Before there was a Flatiron Building, the wedge-shaped intersection of Fifth Avenue and Broadway was occupied by several narrow, three-story shops and residences. Photo circa 1884.

The Flatiron district, which is roughly bounded by Seventh Avenue and Park Avenue from 14th to 30th streets, is named for the iconic Flatiron Building, constructed in 1902 on the wedge-shaped intersection of Fifth Avenue and Broadway. In the early 19th century, before there was a Flatiron Building (and the narrow buildings that preceded it), the district was mostly open pastures owned by farmers such as Isaac Varian, Casper Samler, and John Horn.

Isaac Varian Homestead, present-day West 26th Street, Flatiron District
At least two generations lived at the old Isaac Varian homestead until it was demolished in 1850 to make way for new townhomes. At that time, a grandson, Richard Varian, was living in the house with his wife and their children, all of whom were born there. With the old homestead gone, Richard had a new home built at 27 West 26th Street, where he died in 1864.

Isaac Varian was born in New York City on September 8, 1740. He was a butcher for a long period, residing and doing business at 176-180 Bowery from 1806 to 1818. He was married three times and had 16 children. In his spare time, Varian established a farm and homestead on a 25-acre plot he purchased from John Horne sometime during the 1780s.

The homestead stood on 26th Street just west of the Bloomingdale Road (Broadway), and was home to at least two generations of Varians until it was demolished in 1850 to make way for new townhouses. Ten years after Varian’s death on May 29, 1820, the many heirs to his estate began selling off their allotted parcels to individual buyers and speculators. One of those parcels on 18th Street was eventually conveyed to a man named John L. Gross.  

Engine Company No. 14, Flatiron District, 1887
This illustration of Engine Company No. 14 in their original firehouse was published in 1887, two years before William Waldorf Astor presented the company with Chappie.

On December 30, 1861, Gross sold his house at 14 East 18th Street to the city for $7,825. Two years later, the Metamora Hose Company No. 29 (organized in 1854) relocated from 21st Street and Broadway to their new firehouse on East 18th Street. Four years later, on October 6, 1865, a new engine company called the Metropolitan Steam-Engine Company No. 14 was created to replace the old volunteer hose company.

Engine Company Number 14, 18 East 14th Street.

In 1894, two years after the passing of Chappie, Napoleon LeBrun & Son was tasked with designing a new firehouse at 14 East 18th Street.

Featuring Corinthian columns on the third floor that support decorative arches over the windows and large terra cotta medallions that pronounce the date of construction, the firehouse is what the AIA Guide to New York City describes as “A delicate Italian Renaissance town house for fire engines.”

The structure is still as beautiful today as it was during the days of Chappie, Chops, and Peter, albeit the still-active firehouse is no longer home to horses, coach dogs, or fire cats.

*The Sun said Chappie was a bull terrier, and The Evening World called him a bulldog, but the illustration looks more like a pit bull.

New York City's Post Office cats were featured in a news article in 1898
New York City’s Post Office cats and Gustave Fersenheim were featured in a national news article in 1898. In the center is an image of Tom learning sign language. The clerks lovingly referred to Gustave as the “deaf and dumb cat feeder.” (During this time period, it was acceptable to refer to those hard of hearing as deaf and dumb or deaf-mutes.)

A librarian recently asked me what makes an old news story worthy of further research and posting on my website. I told her that not only does it need to be a great animal tale, but it must also be a good people story or have ties to interesting historical buildings or events. The following story about a deaf New York Post Office cat and the deaf postal worker who loved him meets all my criteria for a fabulous animal story of Old New York. Sit back and enjoy.

One of my favorite cat-man stories featured on my website and in my book, The Cat Men of Gotham, is about George Cook, the Superintendent of Federal Cats at New York’s General Post Office. George was responsible for feeding the dozens of New York mousers who were “employed” by the U.S. Post Office Department to kill the mice and rats that were attracted to the glue used on envelopes and packages.

The Post Office had a budget to feed the mousers employed to keep the vermin in check.
The Post Office had a budget to feed the mousers employed to keep the vermin in check.

When I wrote the story about George many years ago, I didn’t know then that he had a partner who helped care for the cats of the feline postal police. How excited I was to discover Gustave Fersenheim (aka Fersenheimer)!

Gustave Fersenheim was a deaf postal clerk who, according to an article in The New York Times, “was way down on the pay roll as a clerk, but whose principal self-imposed duty was to feed and preserve order among the cats in the cellar.”

In 1901, when the article was written, Gustave was 78 years old and had more than 30 years of service in the post office, having become a government employee on July 1, 1870.

At the General Post Office, his duties as a clerk were considered a side job by the numerous clerks who worked there (including, incidentally, my great-granduncle Henry Gavigan, who also worked as a clerk at New York City’s General Post Office in the early 1900s). Gustave’s main job was helping George feed the postal cats.

Gustave was an animal lover, but for some reason he tried to hide his feline feelings from his fellow employees. That meant getting to the post office very early each morning so he could attend to the cats before there were too many other workers in the building.

Now, Gustave lived in the South Bronx, in a third-floor apartment at 633 East 148th Street. So, every morning he would leave his home by 5 AM and make his way to the General Post Office building, which was then located in City Hall Park in lower Manhattan. That gave him enough time to feed the cats their government-rationed milk and liver from the Washington Market before he had to report for duty at 7 AM in the box delivery department.  

Gustave, the son of Elias and Fredericka Fersenheim, was born in Prussia (Germany) on January 26, 1823. He arrived in New York City in 1850 and was naturalized as a U.S. citizen in 1864. He married his first wife, Elizabeth, in St. Louis, and the couple lived for a while at 84 Marcy Avenue in Brooklyn. Elizabeth died on February 18, 1895, at the age of 74.

Less than a year after Elizabeth’s passing, Gustave met a woman by chance at Dr. Thomas Gallaudet’s Church for the Deaf and Dumb at 511 West 148th Street (also then known as St. Ann’s Church for the Deaf-Mutes). As it turns out, this woman, Sarah Ann Ryer, had been Gustave’s good friend back home in Prussia.

The childless widow and widower reconnected and married at St. Ann’s Church on January 15, 1896. Gustave was 72 and Sarah was about 60 at the time of their wedding.

New York's General Post Office and Courthouse,, designed by Alfred B. Mullett
New York’s General Post Office and Courthouse, designed by Alfred B. Mullett, was erected between 1869 and 1880. Commonly called “Mullett’s Monstrosity,” it was demolished in 1939 as part of efforts to beautify the city for the 1939 World Fair. The site was used to extend City Hall Park to the south.

Gustave and the Post Office Cats

When Gustave first started working at the post office in 1873, he was about 47 years old. Since he couldn’t speak or hear, he spent much of his leisure time caressing two of the cats on the feline force. The cats grew fond of him—not only because he petted them, but because he gave them food from his lunch basket. As the number of his feline friends increased, he started bringing bigger baskets to work.

As Gustave got older and was no longer capable of doing much postal work, it was decided to move him into the cat department. He still continued to collect a salary for office clerk, but most of his time was spent caring for the postal mousers.

In addition to feeding the cats, Gustave also took measures to ensure as many kittens as possible got good homes. He could not bear to drown them, and something had to be done with the progeny of the cats, so he’d pawn them off on his coworkers. Begging his fellow workers to take kittens was reportedly the one thing the other clerks did not like about Gustave.

Tom, the Deaf Cat of the Post Office

One of the most wonderful cats on the job was Tom, a cat who, like Gustave, could not hear or speak. As one newspaper noted:

Would that all cats be like him! Voiceless he never goes out nights to howl and break the rest of hardworking citizens. He simply eats, drinks, sleeps, kills rats and makes signs.

Gustave first took Tom under his wing when he observed some of the other clerks cursing at the cat (as the newspaper noted, he couldn’t hear them cursing, but he could tell they were yelling by their facial expressions.)

General Post Office, City Hall, 1875
Tom couldn’t hear the trucks and wagons bearing mail, so the postal workers would gently nudge him away. NYPL digital collection.

As it turns out, the men were actually trying to protect Tom. While the other cats would leap and run away from the trucks bearing mail, Tom couldn’t hear the vehicles. When the men realized Tom was deaf, they resorted to tapping him or gently nudging him out of the way.

Delighted to find that Tom was a kindred spirit, Gustave adopted Tom by bringing the cat to his desk and feeding him beef. Soon, Tom followed Gustave everywhere as if he were a pet dog.

Gustave began educating Tom by first teaching him to sit up on his hind legs. Then he taught the cat how to make signs for hunger, thirst, and thanks.

Under Gustave’s tutelage, Tom became “a most scholarly and learned cat.” Eventually, man and cat began having long conversations.

Mutilator, The Sun Office Cat
Gustave taught Tom how to sit on his hind legs, just as Mutilator, the legendary Sun office cat, is doing here.

“Do you think we will have war with Spain?” Gustave would ask Tom using his fingers. “Me-yawl-woo!” Tom would reply, spelling out the signs for these cat words on his “educated paw.” As the news reporter noted, you can interpret these words any way you want.

Gustave decided that Tom much preferred polite conversation to killing rats, so he took him home with him, where Tom shared the Fersenheim home with a trained parrot and dog.

The Fersenheim Parrot and Dog

Gustave and his wives were often mentioned in the Deaf-Mutes Journal, which was published in Mexico, New York, from 1874 to 1939. Not only was Gustave a trustee of the Church Mission to Deaf-Mutes and an honorary president of the German Society, he and his wives entertained often, holding parties at their home every year for their anniversaries and birthdays.

Several of the articles published in the journal referred to the Fersenheim’s parrot and dog.

The parrot, Polly, would reportedly greet Gus every night by walking up and down her perch and doing whatever she could to get his attention. The parrot could also lift one leg and twirl its claws in imitation of the deaf whenever the bell rang, which proved to be of great amusement to their guests.

According to The New York Times, one of the couple’s friends taught Polly how to say “Come in” when anyone knocked at the door. She would also fly toward the door to let Gustave and his wife know when a visitor was arriving.

Deaf-Mutes Journal

In addition to the parrot, Gustave and his first wife also had a dog described as a black and tan watch dog. The dog, who spent 12 years with the couple, was able to inform his deaf master and mistress when the doorbell rang or when someone was advancing toward their apartment.

On the day of Elizabeth’s death, Gus could not find her when he returned home from the Post Office. The dog led him to the bedroom, where he found his wife lying lifeless on the floor. Her right side was paralyzed, she was blind in her right eye, and she couldn’t speak.

A doctor told Gustave that she had experienced a paralytic stroke and advised him to take her to a hospital. The first hospital refused to admit her—even though Gus offered to pay in cash—but Bellevue accepted her. According to the article, Elizabeth probably had the attack soon after Gus left for work that morning, and had lain on the floor without help all day long.

The dog, who had adored Elizabeth, refused to eat and did nothing but moan and groan in agony. Elizabeth lived for only a few weeks longer before passing away in her sleep at the hospital at the age of 74. At the time of her death, Gustave was 72, but the Deaf-Mutes Journal said he looked 15 years younger.

The Passing of Gustave Fersenheim

“There is sorrow and gloom in the hearts of the forty cats which are employed by Uncle Sam to keep rats out of the post office building.”—Pittsburgh Dispatch, August 1901

On Friday evening, August 16, 1901, Gustave became very ill. He died of gastritis two days later at his “neat and comfortable little house” on East 148th Street. Just before he died, he muttered one of the few phrases he had learned to speak: “I am done.”

Funeral services were held at his home, with Rev. Dr. Chamberlain officiating. He was buried alongside his first wife in Woodlawn Cemetery.

Following Gustave’s death, Sarah tried to give Polly to her sister, who had a pet dog named Fly. Polly and Fly became fast friends. Sadly, Polly only lived two more days after her master’s death.

Sarah’s sister put Polly in a box, which she then placed on a windowsill. When Elizabeth came to take the box, it was empty. The women found Polly in the Fly’s bed, with the dog trying to warm the dead bird.

As for the postal cats, they were also sad to lose their friend. The Pittsburgh Dispatch reported: “There is sorrow and gloom in the hearts of the forty cats which are employed by Uncle Sam to keep rats out of the post office building. Now [Gustave] is gone, and the cats, every one of which loved him, refuse to be comforted.”

Did You Know?

Gustave and Sarah Fersenheim met at St. Ann’s Church for the Deaf-Mutes on West 148th Street at Amsterdam Avenue. This church dates back to September 1850, when Rev. Thomas Gallaudet began a Bible class for deaf people in the vestry room of St. Stephen’s Church, then at the corner of Chrystie and Broome Streets.

Rev. Thomas Gallaudet and his wife Elizabeth
Rev. Thomas Gallaudet and his wife Elizabeth

When the congregation outgrew this facility, it was moved to 59 Bond Street. Dr. Gallaudet eventually decided to establish a new church dedicated to the deaf, leasing the chapel of New-York University on Washington Square.

Christ Church and rectory on West 18th Street.

St. Ann’s was incorporated into the Episcopal Church in 1854. In July 1859, the society purchased the former Christ Church and rectory, located on West 18th Street near Fifth Avenue.

In 1897, St. Ann’s Church was consolidated with St. Matthew’s Church; Dr. Gallaudet was made Rector Emeritus of the new congregation. A new chapel was constructed—the first in the country to be erected solely for the use of deaf congregants.

The Romanesque-style structure, designed by Clarence True, had a cream-colored brick exterior and could accommodate 300 people. The interior featured an inclined floor, as in a theater, so the congregation could have an unobstructed view of the altar as the clergymen prayed and preached using sign language. The church’s many windows provided extra light for those who depended on sight alone.

Today, this building houses the Manhattan Holy Tabernacle Church. Deaf services still take place at St. Ann’s Church for the Deaf, now located at 209 East 16th Street.

Incidentally, Gallaudet University in Washington, DC, the only college in the world where students live and learn using American Sign Language, was named for the Reverend’s father, Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet. His mother, Sophia Fowler Gallaudet, was a founding matron of the school.  

An unnamed, heroic stray cat and a mischievous mouse played a prominent role in a fire that forced a dozen families from the brick double apartment at 561-565 49th Street (present-day Sunset Park neighborhood) on December 4, 1908.

According to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, the fire began in a wardrobe in the apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Aaron Platt sometime around midnight. Most of the families in the four-story building were probably asleep at the time.

Mrs. John Duffy and her three children were in their apartment on the ground level when the fire started. Unaware of the danger lurking upstairs, Mrs. Duffy was quite alarmed when a stray cat bounded into the room through an open window.

Cat Gave Fire Alarm 1908

At first, she didn’t know what to make of the cat. It ran around the room in circles and scampered about under the table and chairs. When the children attempted to drive the cat out, it leaped into Mrs. Duffy’s lap and would not leave. Mrs. Duffy didn’t know it yet, but the cat was sounding an alarm.

Frightened by the cat’s antics, Mrs. Duffy ran out into the hall with the cat still clinging to her dress. As she reached the hall, nine-year-old Charlie Platt came rushing down the stairs, crying that his room was on fire and that his father and mother were still up there trying to beat out the flames.

As soon as the boy opened the hall door, the cat bolted outside. His work was done here.

Mrs. Duffy warned the family in the adjoining rooms on her floor and then ran back into her apartment to gather up a few belongings.

561-565 49th Street, which is located in the Sunset Park neighborhood.  New York City Department of Records, 1940 municipal tax photo.
The fire took place in the double apartment building at 561-565 49th Street, which is located in the Sunset Park neighborhood. New York City Department of Records, 1940 municipal tax photo.

Unfortunately, it took the fire department longer than usual to reach the scene. The patrolman on post reportedly refused to believe young Charlie Platt’s story at first, and it took a while for the boy to convince him that he was telling the truth.

The flames spread rapidly, extending to the apartment of Mrs. Augusta Benka on the second floor of 565 49th Street. This shut off all means of escape for a dozen families on the floors above, forcing them to climb out on the roof and make their way to a hatchway of a house about a half black away. Mrs. J. F. Sullivan and her daughter May and son Donald, Mrs. Rhind, Mrs. Connolly, Mrs. F.A. Fery, Mr. and Mrs. Platt, Mrs. Benka, and others made this rooftop escape.

While the firemen were busy upstairs with the fire, Thomas Mudridge, who lived across the street, heard that Mrs. Duffy and her three children were still in their apartment. Unable to get in through the front door, he climbed into the apartment through a fire escape.

Mrs. Duffy was in a state of frozen terror as her children huddled around her. Mudridge lead them from the bedroom and rushed them through the burning hallway to the street.

According to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, it was thought that the fire was caused by a mouse that had gnawed the tips of matches left inside a coat in the Platt’s wardrobe. The total damage was valued at $2,000.

 561 and 565 49th Street, Sunset Park, Brooklyn
Here is 561-565 49th Street today. The full trees add a nice touch to the street.

A Brief History of Sunset Park

The Sunset Park neighborhood stretches from Green-Wood Cemetery to Bay Ridge, and from the Brooklyn shoreline to Borough Park. Formerly known as Gowanus and later as South Brooklyn, Sunset Park adopted its name during the 1960s after a local park of the same name that offers terrific views of Manhattan during sunset hours.

In the 18th and early 19th centuries, Sunset Park was mostly owned by the Bergen family, whose origins in America trace back to Hans Hansen Bergen, a Norwegian ship carpenter who emigrated to New Netherland in 1663 in a company with the colony’s fifth Director-General, Wouter van Twiller.  

Bergen was married to Sarah Rapelje, the first female child of European parentage born in the colony of New Netherland. Although Hans and Sarah never lived in Brooklyn, their descendants owned two large homesteads along its waterfront: the DeHart-Bergen House near 39th Street and Third Avenue and the Johannes Bergen House near 55th Street.

DeHart-Bergen House Brooklyn
The DeHart-Bergen house near 39th Street, circa 1885. It was built sometime prior to 1680 by Symon Aertszen DeHart, who had arrived in New Amsterdam in 1662. Later residents (18th century) included Simon Bergen and his wife, Geerjte DeHart. NYPL Digital Collections

By 1825, as shown in the map below, the Bergens owned all that part of Brooklyn from 31st Street to what was then the Brooklyn City line at Bay Ridge, and from New York Bay to the patent line at New Utrecht.

Map of Farms owned by the Bergens, 1825
Map of farms owned by the Bergens, 1825. Brooklyn Public Library

The land upon which this heroic cat story took place (49th Street) was once part of a 120-acre farm owned by Martenus and Maria Bergen (the farm extended from 48th to 52nd Streets). This land had previously been owned by the Van Pelt family, who owned farmland in Gowanus and New Utrecht. Wouter Van Pelt conveyed the Gowanus land to Peter Bergen, who in turn divided it between his sons Martenus and Peter.

Following his father’s death in 1844, Martenus sold his land as part of a larger parcel to Thomas Hunt, a millionaire with ties to the Brooklyn City Railroad who held contracts for the grading and paving of Brooklyn’s streets.

Bergen Homestead, 1830 oil painting
The Bergens had many homesteads in Brooklyn; this is one of them (1830 oil painting by Andrew Richardson; Brooklyn Historical Society).

Hunt, who owned a house in Brooklyn Heights at 102 Remsen Street, built a country seat on the old Bergen farmland at 49th Street and Third Avenue. This home was destroyed in a fire in August 1866.

Thomas Hunt went on to become one of the largest real estate holders in the city. Following his death in 1878, much of his land was sold for development.

P.S. 2: The Bergen School of Sunset Park

Although I could not find any early photos or illustrations of 49th Street, I did find an old illustration along with some interesting history about one of Brooklyn’s very first schools. Now called P.S. 1 The Bergen in Sunset Park, the school–Brooklyn’s fifth school–dates back to the pre-Revolutionary era on the Bergen farm.

The old P.S. 2 on 47th Street between Third and Fourth Avenues, Sunset Park
The old P.S. 2 on 47th Street between Third and Fourth Avenues in about 1880, when Jacob Sand was principal.

According to published reports, prior to the Revolution, children of the Gowanus district attended school in the dwelling houses on the Bergen farms. During the Revolution, a log school house was built on the Bergen farm lane west of the junction at present-day Third Avenue and 44th Street.

In 1797, the log building was replaced with a frame building, which became P.S. No. 2 in 1810. (The school’s first teacher, Michael Hogan, reportedly slit his own throat after a female student refused his advances and marriage proposal.)

In 1846, a two-story, two-room school was erected on 47th Street near Third Avenue. Four rooms were added in 1865 and 24 classrooms were added in 1875; another 12 classrooms were added in 1896.

The Board of Education added “Bergen School” to the school’s name in 1915, making it P.S. 2 The Bergen School. Today, the Sunset Park school is called P.S. 1 The Bergen, and it serves children in Pre-K through 5th grade.

P.S. 2 The Bergen at 321 47th Street, 1930
 Sunset Park, Brooklyn
P.S. 2 at 321 47th Street, 1930. NYPL Digital Collections

Wednesday, October 20, 2021
6-7 p.m. ET

FURst Responders of Gotham virtual presentation

We’re all familiar with the mounted patrolmen of the NYPD and the horses and Dalmatians that worked for the FDNY. But during the 1800s and early 1900s, most of New York City’s police and fire stations also had cats and other dogs and animals on their rosters. I like to call all of these bravest and finest animals of Old New York the FURst Responders of Gotham.

Feline FURst Responders

For example, in 1915, there were more than 100 cats on active duty with the NYPD. During that same time period, there were reportedly 90 dogs and 120 cats among the 200 fire companies in Manhattan and Brooklyn (and I think these numbers are very low). Most of these mascots served as companions for the men. But many were also working animals that helped protect property and save lives.

Join me on October 20, 2021, as I explore the city’s police and fire history while sharing some amazing stories of Old New York’s four-legged bravest and finest. This will be the debut for my FURst Responders of Gotham presentation, which is a prelude to my (possibly) next book of the same title.

Canine FURst Responders



Hear about:

  • America’s very first police K-9 unit, which was formed in Brooklyn
  • The famous monkey and cat mascots of “The Finest Fire House in the World”
  • The last horse-drawn fire engine in the history of the FDNY
  • Strike, the kitten-saving police dog of Tribeca
  • The canine detectives of the Long Island Railroad Police Force
  • Arson and Homicide, the cats on the job at Police Headquarters
  • Robert Bruce MacMurray, the horse-saving fire dog
  • Tootsey, the feline firefighter who loved to ride on fire engines

Registration

This program is being sponsored by the Boonton Holmes Public Library as part of their Virtual Happy Hour Program. To sign up for this free program, please click here by October 18.

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

Hook and Ladder Company 10, 264 State Street, Brooklyn, 1891, New York Historical Society
Hook and Ladder Company 10 had a Hayes truck and three of the handsomest and quickest working horses in the department–Larry, Billy, and Dick. I also see a dog in this c. 1891 photo, but no cat (Patsey was probably napping inside). New York Historical Society

On August 1, 1891, Hook and Ladder Company No. 10 on State Street was designated as ready for active service with what was then called the Brooklyn Fire Department. The new company protected the Second District, which was bordered by Johnston Street, Nevins Street, First Place, and Smith Street, and on the west by the waterfront.

According to Our Firemen: The History of the Brooklyn Fire Department, the property in this district of about one square mile represented “more value than that of any other equal portion of the city.” It included all the expensive residential buildings in “The Heights,” a considerable portion of “The Hill,” and all of the large shopping district lying between the Heights and the Hill.  Hook and Ladder Company No. 10 responded to calls from 117 boxes on a second alarm, with the most remote box located at the end of Red Hook Point.

Two days after the new company went into service, a new member was added to the roster: a small cat “who wore a fur coat which in color resembled a tortoise shell.”

According to a story in “Our Firemen,” Patsey entered the bay door on August 3, settled into a chair, and, through his general demeanor, indicated that he intended to stay.

The men welcomed him with some warm milk and christened him Patsey. (I have a feeling Patsey was a female cat, as only about 1 in 3,000 tortoiseshell cats are male).

Although Patsey’s name did not appear on the payrolls at Brooklyn’s fire headquarters, the men considered Patsey to be an official fire cat. They even presented him with a silver collar. Life was pretty good for the former street cat, largely due to the all the wonderful features of the new firehouse.

The new firehouse for Hook and Ladder Company No. 10 was quartered in a two-story building at 264 State Street, near Boerum Place. The building was designed by William J. Moran, who also designed a similar looking firehouse in 1890 for Engine Company No. 28 at 436 39th Street (below).

The firehouse for Hook and Ladder Company No. 10 on State Street reportedly looked very similar to this firehouse on 39th Street
The firehouse for Hook and Ladder Company No. 10 on State Street reportedly looked very similar to this firehouse on 39th Street, albeit, it had a rectangular central bay door.

One of the main features of the firehouse was a large gymnasium in the cellar, where the men could work out with rowing machines, dumb bells, heavy and light hammers, Indian clubs, and something called quoits, which was a traditional game that involved the throwing of rings over a set distance. Patsey loved spending time in the gymnasium–his favorite activity was taking lessons in high vaulting and running jumps.

Another favorite activity for Patsey was napping. He loved to sleep on top of the men’s coats on the extreme end of the extension ladder.

One day as he was taking an afternoon nap, an alarm sounded from a box on the corner of Hoyt and Warren Streets. Normally, Patsey was on the alert as soon as the gong sounded, but on this occasion he did not wake up until the truck was on the way to the fire.

At Dean and Pacific Streets, Fireman Collins discovered Patsey with his claws buried deep into one of the coats. He appeared to be completely enjoying the situation!

When the truck arrived at the scene, Patsey was transferred to the driver’s seat and covered up with a coat. He remained on the seat and seemed to enjoy watching the men in action.

Patsey shared the firehouse with the company’s three horses: Larry, Billy, and Dick. The horses were reportedly black, dark brown, and dapple bay. They could get set up and out of the firehouse in just twelve seconds.

Billy, who was nearly seventeen hands high and more than 1,400 pounds, was the veteran, having served for five years with a prior truck company. He was reportedly so well-versed in the telegraph alarm system that no amount of persuasion could encourage him to leave his stall on a “test run.”

I could not find any other articles about Patsey the fire cat, but hopefully she had a good run with her chosen firehouse.

A Brief History of Hook and Ladder Company No. 10

The firehouse for Hook and Ladder Company No. 10 at 264 State Street was built on the former property of Abraham and Peter Schermerhorn.

State Street, Brooklyn, 1898 atlas
The new firehouse for Hook and Ladder Company No. 10 was built on lands once owned by Peter and Abraham Schermerhorn. 1898 E.B. Hyde, New York Public Library Digital Collections

Abraham and Peter were descendants of Jacob Janse Schermerhorn, a Dutch settler who arrived in New York in 1636. Jacob first settled in Rensselareswyck and reportedly had a home inside the walls of Fort Orange. He and his wife, Jannetie Van Voorhout, were the first in a long line of Schermerhorns of colonial New York.

Abraham Schermerhorn (1783 - 1850) - Genealogy
Abraham Schermerhorn was the father of Caroline Schermerhorn Astor, better known as the Mrs. Astor.

Abraham and Peter’s parents were Peter Schermerhorn and Elizabeth Bussing. Peter was a commander and owner of shipping vessels trading between New York and Charleston, South Carolina. The brothers entered the family business in 1808.

Following his father’s death in 1826, Abraham inherited 160 acres of land in the Gowanus section of Brooklyn, which his father and uncle had purchased in 1795.

The main residence on this property, built in 1690, was reportedly the oldest house in Brooklyn in 1915, when the photo below was taken. It stood on the site where Brooklyn’s first house was built in 1836; reportedly, some of the original stone walls from that house were used to construct the 1690 house.

The Schermerhorn family lived in Manhattan, but they used their Brooklyn property as a summer residence. Abraham sold the land in January 1835 for $600 an acre. Part of Green-Wood Cemetery was built on the Schermerhorn property.

The old Schermerhorn house was located on 3rd Avenue (Gowanus Expressway) and 28th Street
The old Schermerhorn house was located on 3rd Avenue (Gowanus Expressway) and 28th Street, circa 1915. It was demolished shortly after this photo was taken.

Peter and Abraham Schermerhorn owned a rope factory with what was once the largest ropewalk in the country. The ropewalk was needed to stretch the rope–which were used in shipping and sailing–a long distance.

Ropewalk
The Schermerhorn ropewalk may have looked something like this one. When the ropewalk burned down,

The 1200-long, two-story ropewalk was bounded by Smith and Bond Streets between State Street and what would eventually become Schermerhorn Street.

The ropewalk was destroyed by a fire that started in the stables on December 29, 1841. Sadly, nine horses and a cow were killed in the blaze, and 90 workmen lost their good-paying jobs. Following the fire, new buildings were erected which were “more in keeping with the neighborhood.”

One of the more interesting developments along Schermerhorn and State Streets was Mr. Edward L. Graeff’s gardens and greenhouses, as noted on the 1855 map below.

Graeff, a German horticulturalist and associate of the Natural History Department of the Brooklyn Institute, established the garden in 1851. The greenhouses featured “a choice selection of horticultural history,” including hyacinths, rhododendron, geraniums, roses, and much more.

State Street, 1855 Brooklyn map
According to this 1855 William Perris map, the firehouse was built on the site of what had been a brick store of the second class (eg, book printer, coach maker, or brass foundry) next to a wood and coal yard. Across the street was a “Florist’s Garden” owned by Edward L. Graeff.

Directly across the street from Mr. Graeff’s gardens was a brick store at what would become 264 State Street. Sometime between 1855 and 1880, the store was demolished.

On June 20, 1890, the City of Brooklyn purchased the vacant property at 264 State Street from John Adamson and his wife. The city paid $6,000 for the property. One year later, the men, horses, and cat of Hook and Ladder Company No. 10 moved into their new firehouse.

264 State Street Brooklyn
The city purchased the empty lot at 264 State Street from John Adamson and his wife for $6,000 on June 20, 1890.

In 1898, Hook and Ladder Company 10 of the Brooklyn Fire Department became Ladder Company 10 of the Fire Department of New York.

A year later, the company was renamed Ladder Company 60, and in 1913, the name changed once more to Ladder Company 110.

In January 1948, the Board of Estimate acquired the lot bounded by Smith and State Streets, Boerum Place, and Atlantic Avenue. Here, the city would construct a new, modern jail to replace the old Raymond Street Jail.

Brooklyn Fire Headquarters
Brooklyn Fire Headquarters at 365 Jay Street, 1905. Museum of the City of New York Collections

With demolition eminent, the ladder company was forced to move to new headquarters at 365 Jay Street in 1949. This was the original Brooklyn Brooklyn Fire Department Headquarters, a six-story building constructed in 1892.

In December 1853, construction began on the Brooklyn House of Detention for Men at 275 Atlantic Avenue. The 11-story prison could accommodate 817 male prisoners, ages 16-21, awaiting trial or sentencing.

Today, Ladder Company 110 is located with Engine Company 207 in a nondescript fire station at 172 Tillary Street.

Brooklyn House of Detention under construction, 1954. Atlantic Avenue, State Street
The new Brooklyn House of Detention under construction, 1954. NYPL Digital Collections

If you enjoyed this fire cat story, you may also like reading about Tootsey, the feline firefighter of Engine Company No. 27 in 1895.