Vintage Newfoundland dog 
Could be Sergeant Nick of East New York Police Department?
This is not Nick, but based on the way the dog was described, this very well could have been the canine sergeant of the East New York Police.

In Part I of this story about the four-legged mascots of Brooklyn’s old Liberty Avenue police station, we met Dewey and Dick, the beloved felines of what was then called the 153rd Precinct. In Part II, we’ll meet Nick, the canine predecessor of Dewey and Dick, who served with the former East New York Police Department in the old Town of New Lots in the late 1800s.

Visitors to the old East New York Police Station never failed to notice the large Newfoundland dog sitting about as if he owned the place. The old dog, described as long and shaggy and turning gray around the face, was a favorite among all the policemen as well as “citizens in general and reporters in particular.”

With “sterling qualities, his intelligence and his friendly feeling toward the law abiding portion of the human race,” Nick had truly earned his sergeant’s stripes.

Sit back and enjoy this wonderful tale of an honorable police dog.

Sergeant Nick’s Early Years

Sergeant Nick was born in Jersey City, New Jersey, on August 1, 1869. That made him almost 17 when a Brooklyn Daily Eagle reporter came to visit him in July 1886.

Nick was the puppy of James Davis, the proprietor of a starch works company at Liberty and New Jersey Avenues in 1886. According to Davis, Nick took a fancy to the blue coats and brass buttons at a young age, and he spent several years with the police officers in Jersey City. When an African-American policeman named Andy Magee took a new position at Davis’ plant in Brooklyn, Nick went along with him.

At the starch works yard, Nick followed Magee everywhere and rarely socialized with anyone else. Over time, Davis grew to appreciate the dog’s value as a watch dog (whenever he found pieces of torn clothing on a fence, he knew that Nick had been doing his job!). He also became just as attached to the dog as Magee was, even though Nick was not very friendly with either man.  

Starch works factory
Sergeant Nick spent his first years of life working as a watch dog for James Davis’ starch works plant in Jersey City. This is an illustration of a starch works plant in Glen Cove, Long Island.

When Nick was about three years old, Magee passed away. Two weeks later, Nick went missing from the yard. After a week’s search, Davis found him at the New Lots police station. The men there seemed very fond of the dog, and no amount of coaxing could bring him back to the starch works factory.

Davis said he believed that Nick had gone to the police station in search of his friend, somehow knowing that Magee had once worked as a policeman in Jersey City and thus, may have returned to his previous career.

Sergeant Nick’s Life as a Canine Cop

Torchlight parade, Library of Congress
In October 1884, the citizens of Brooklyn participated in a torchlight parade in honor of Grover Cleveland. Sergeant Nick joined the parade and festivities. Library of Congress

According to Sergeant William F. “Billy” Early of the East New York Police, Nick was “the most remarkable dog in existence.” He was always ready to go out with the men on the 6 p.m. platoon, making all the rounds with them and then returning to the police station in time to follow the men of the midnight tour. In the course of one night, the dog would cover 42 miles of streets before reporting back to the station in the morning.

Sergeant Early recalled a time when Brooklyn held a parade and barbecue at Ridgewood Park (Highland Park) in honor of Presidential Candidate Grover Cleveland. The event, which took place in October 1884, featured a three-mile procession through the crowded streets, followed by cannons, 60,000 sandwiches, 5,000 kegs of beer, an evening torchlight parade, and a brief address by the New Jersey native and candidate himself.

That day, 10 mounted policemen marched in the parade, representing the New Lots police force. Nick marched alongside them the whole way, displaying two American flags fastened to his collar and wearing a picture of Cleveland around his neck.  

During the event, Nick went missing. He returned to his men a while later carrying a piece of barbecued ox in his mouth. As Sergeant Early noted, “He looked at me with an air of satisfaction, as much as to say, ‘I’m the only New Lots policeman who got a piece of that ox.’”

The sergeant recalled another time when Nick was with Patrolmen Howard and Soper on a part of Alabama Avenue known as The Bowery. The men came upon three men engaged in a fight; the two patrolmen each grabbed a man and Nick threw the third man to the ground, tearing his coat, vest, and shirt to shreds in the process. The policemen rewarded Nick with a new gold collar inscribed, “Sergeant Nick, New Lots Police.”

Another sergeant, Christian Reimels (who was the captain when Dewey and Dick were on the job), recalled a riot at Judge William Schiellein’s Hall, which was a hotel located on the southwest corner of Atlantic Avenue and Vermont Street. Someone in the rowdy crowd had knocked down a policeman, and Nick held the man at bay until his partner recovered. Nick kept to the policeman’s side all the way back to the station until the offender was placed in the cell.

Schiellein's Hall, later known as Congress Hall (1922) and Ardley Palace (1929). East New York
NYPL Digital Collection
Schiellein’s Hall, later known as Congress Hall (1922) and Ardley Palace (1929). NYPL Digital Collection

East New York Police Detective Bob Kortright told a story about the time he had to chase a horse thief, who was outrunning him. Sergeant Nick appeared on the scene, gave chase, and knocked the thief over until Kortright could secure his prisoner.

Roundsman Chesterfield Fischer also had a great story to tell the reporter:

“We trailed a burglar one fine night last June until we located him behind a brick wall on Smith Avenue. As the garden was full of strawberries we did not like to destroy our friend’s beds by jumping over, but we posted men around the lot so as to prevent the burglar’s escape. While we were deliberating on what course to pursue, we saw Nick come on a run from the middle of the street, and, before we had time to stop him, jump over the wall.

Sergeant Nick, New Lots/East New York Police, July 1866
Brooklyn Daily Eagle, July 25, 1866

There was a picnic for a time, but not of a strawberry kind to the burglar, for it was not long before we heard the man sing out, ‘Take away the darned dog and I’ll surrender.’ We called off the dog, the burglar kept his word and came with us to the police station. The burglar got three years, but I’m afraid the dog would have got a load of shot if the owner of the lot found out who it was that destroyed his strawberry bed.”

As Sergeant Nick was now almost 17 years old, the reporter asked the men what would become of Nick in his old age.

Roundsman Parson Ringheiser replied, “He will be recommended to the Commissioner for promotion, but if, in his judgment, the dog’s age will be a bar to further usefulness, then we will position that Sergeant Nick be presented with a gold medal and a pension. I believe the whole community in the new ward will indorse such petition.”

A Brief History of the New Lots Police Department

The origins of the East New York Police Department, also known in past years as the 153rd, 17th, and 44th precincts, has ties to the first fire department in what was once the town of New Lots in Kings County.

In 1860, eight years after the town of New Lots seceded from Town of Flatbush, a few men formed a volunteer fire department for New Lots. The men of Liberty Hose Company No. 1 built a 75-foot tall, octagonal wooden bell tower at 109 Bradford Street, about halfway between Fulton Street and Atlantic Avenue. They manned this tower 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It was all the sparsely populated town needed at this time.

109 Bradford Avenue, East New York, Brooklyn
NYPL
The old fire tower and police station at 109 Bradford Street is noted on this late 19th-century map. New York Public Library Digital Collections

In 1870, the State Legislature passed an act colloquially known as the “Tweed Charter” that returned police powers from the Metropolitan Police (established in 1857) to the Municipal Police. This left the town of New Lots without police protection.

Under an amended Brooklyn Police bill, the town was authorized to apply to the Police Commander of the City of Brooklyn for the appointment of as many police officers deemed necessary. Captain William F. Early, George Schienk, and Steve Newman were appointed as the first New Lots policemen. The men reported daily to Justice Gertum at the town’s courthouse and locked up prisoners at the 9th sub-precinct station house at Broadway and Gates Avenue in Bushwick.

Without a station house, the town rented a two-story stone and frame building on Liberty Avenue near Smith Street (Hendrix Street) for use as a lock-up for prisoners. (Reportedly the stones were so loose, and the bars were so wide, prisoners often escaped very easily.) By 1872, New Lots had six police officers.

The town of New Lots rented the frame building at 545 Liberty Avenue, East New York, Brooklyn
The town of New Lots rented the frame building at 545 Liberty Avenue (extant) for use as a temporary police station from 1871 to 1873,

The small rented building did not meet all the police force’s needs, so the Town Board purchased a 100 x 50 foot site on Butler Avenue (now Bradford Street) from Horace A. Miller for $1,400. This was the lot where the fire bell tower stood. There, in front of the tower, they constructed a multi-purpose town hall/police station at the cost of $10.000.

The New Lots Town Hall opened on December 11, 1873. The two-story with raised basement building housed the New Lots police force and town offices on the first floor and the fire department on the second floor. A large auditorium was devoted to public concerts and the basement had four cells for prisoners. By 1878, the police force had nine men, including sergeants Henry French and Pete J. Kennedy.

The New Lots Town Hall building, pictured here in 1922
The New Lots Town Hall building, pictured here in 1922, served as a town hall, fire station, police station, prison, and hospital. New York Public Library Digital Collections

Incidentally, during this time, the old fire tower was reportedly used as a morgue. Apparently, many people were killed by getting hit by trains on the Long Island Railroad before protective barriers such as gates and fences were put up, so the morgue was a busy place.

On August 4th, 1886, one month after the Brooklyn Daily Eagle reporter wrote the story about Sergeant Nick, the Town of New Lots was annexed into the City of Brooklyn, becoming the 26th Ward of the city. Sergeant French was appointed as the acting captain of the new 17th Police Precinct. The police department took charge of the entire town hall building from this time until 1892, when they moved into their new headquarters on Liberty Avenue. By this time, Sergeant Nick would have passed.

The old town hall building remained empty for many years, and the fire tower was eventually demolished. On November 13, 1899, the 26th Ward Homeopathic Hospital and Dispensary (aka East New York Dispensary) opened in this building. Later called the Bradford Street Hospital, the walk-in health facility remained open until about 1936.

Today this old firehouse/town hall/police station/prison is a two-family house.

109 Bradford Street, East New York Brooklyn
Today, 109 Bradford Street is a two-family home.
Dewey, police cat mascot of Liberty Avenue Police Precinct, Brooklyn, 1909
This is really Dewey. He consented to pose for the Brooklyn Times Union photographer while his brother Dick was away on mouse patrol.

Part I: The Police Cats of the 153rd Police Precinct

When Dewey, a large tabby cat, entered the magnificent, castle-like police station at 484 Liberty Avenue in 1902, he was the terror of the precinct. Biting and scratching were his favorite pastimes.

But over the next seven years, Dewey (no doubt named for Commodore George Dewey, the hero of the Spanish-American War) grew into one of the kindest and mildest of cats. He also became one of the best ratters in the New York Police Department.

The credit for the remarkable turnaround goes to Mrs. Henrietta Millwood, the veteran “white-haired, gentle-faced” police matron for what was then known as the 153rd Police Precinct of East New York, Brooklyn.

“I remember well the night that Dewey first came to the station house,” Mrs. Millwood told a Brooklyn Times Union reporter in August 1909. “He came in for shelter out of a storm and a more bedraggled little animal it would be hard to find. He was starving.”

Mrs. Millwood said that after feeding the cat, he refused to leave. No surprise there.

She then trained the cat by bopping him gently on the nose whenever he did wrong. “An animal could be made to comprehend things at once by using this method,” she told the reporter, explaining that the nose was the “seat of understanding.”

484 Liberty Avenue
Dewey and Dick lived in this beautiful castle-like police station at 484 Liberty Avenue, built in 1892. They spent much of their time in the stables to the right of the main building.

Dewey shared the Romanesque Revival style police station with Dick, a large black and white cat who showed up a few days after Dewey arrived (the cat obviously had a nose for food and luxurious shelter). Like Dewey, Dick was a great mouser who took his job very seriously—even passing up a photo shoot and publicity for a more important ratting expedition.

Around the neighborhood, Dewey and Dick were known as the 153rd Precinct mascots. Every man, woman, and child in the district knew them and fed them treats.  

Many working mothers would leave babies and toddlers on the police station steps every morning on their way to their jobs in Brownsville. (“Little moms or dads,” in other words, children who had been placed in charge of their younger siblings, would also drop off the little ones at the station.) Moms and older siblings knew the youngsters would be taken in and cared for by Mrs. Millwood and the other matron, Mrs. Cox, so they abused the system and used the police station as a day care center.

Dewey and Dick were no doubt a favorite attraction for these abandoned children who spent the entire day at the police station. The kids also adored Mrs. Millwood, who kept a room filled with toys, including rag dolls and ninepins, for the girls and boys to play with. (Mrs. Millwood told the Times Union reporter that the bad adult mothers should be disciplined: she suggested fining them one dollar each time they dropped off their children. Perhaps she should have bopped them on the nose each time!)

Although Mrs. Millwood was their disciplinarian, the cats were under the charge of Henry Miller, who was in command of the horse stables and patrol wagon, and John Ott, who was in charge of the precinct horses. The men saw that the cats were fed and well taken of; they reportedly did such a good job at taking care of Dewey and Dick that the cats were “the sleekest looking in East New York.”

The Cats’ Favorite Equine Pals

Dewey and Dick police cats of 484 Liberty Street, Brooklyn Times Union, August 1909

In 1909, there were 14 horses in the stables attached to the Liberty Avenue police station, including Nobel and Latson, the patrol wagon horses. According to Mrs. Millwood, Dewey and Dick could recognize each horse. They also had a few favorites.

One of the cats’ favorite horses at the precinct was Black Mike, a handsome black bay horse who belonged to Officer Martin Volkommer, a former Rough Rider who fought with Teddy Roosevelt in the Battle at San Juan Hill. Dewey and Dick reportedly loved to sleep in the same stall with him.

Black Mike was a gentle horse with felines and humans alike. According to Mrs. Millwood, whenever Officer Volkommer was ready to mount the horse, Black Mike would “bend down” by stretching out his two fore legs. “It’s the cutest thing I have ever seen,” she said.

Another of the cats’ favorite equine pals was a 22-year-old black horse also named Mike. This horse now belonged to Captain Christian Reimels, but he first joined the old New Lots Police Department under Captain Hugh F. Gorman, who was the first captain to assume command of the new Liberty Avenue police station in 1892.

Mike was known to be a devil under Captain Gorman’s command, but by 1909 he was reportedly “as gentle as a kitten.” Maybe Dewey and Dick had something to do with this, or maybe Mrs. Millwood gave him a few taps on the nose.

On the night before the Times Union reporter visited the station, Mike had taken a bad turn. His injuries were not immediately apparent to the humans, but somehow the cats knew that Mike was not feeling his best. They made this known to Daniel Miller.

According to the story, Dewey and Dick wakened Daniel from his sleep by “filling the air with their cries.” Then they began trotting backwards and forwards toward Mike’s stall, mewing loudly and showing obvious signs of distress.

Daniel was just about to throw a shoe at the cats to shoo them away, but their odd behavior caught his attention. On investigating the situation, Miller discovered that the old horse had been injured and required medical attention.

I trust that Dewey, Dick, and their horse friends lived happily ever after in their fairytale police station. In Part II of this story, I’ll tell you about Sergeant Nick, the Newfoundland mascot of the New Lots Police who preceded the mascot cats.

The Police Station Castle at 484 Liberty Avenue

Completed in 1892, the historical Liberty Avenue police station designed by George Ingram was built of Anderson gray brick and Lake Superior sandstone. Other features included two polished Quincy columns, main entrance doors of quartered oak, and elaborate interior finishes of quartered oak and black walnut.

The building stood on a site purchased by the city on the southwest corner of Liberty and Miller Avenues. This was about two blocks away from the old station house of the original New Lots Police Department at 109 Bradford Street.

Illustration of new police station at 484 Liberty Avenue, Brooklyn

The main building could accommodate about 80 patrolmen, and featured a large muster room, captain’s quarters with a bedroom and bathroom, a large sitting room, four dormitories, and rooms on the second and third floors for the patrolmen and sergeants. There was also a matron’s office in a hall leading to the stables, plus two cells for female prisoners and eight cells for men.

Hugh F. Gorman was 42 years old when he took over the 17th Precinct on Liberty Avenue in 1892.
Hugh F. Gorman was 42 years old and already gray-haired when he took over the 17th Precinct on Liberty Avenue in 1892.

The connected stables were to the right of the main building. They were designed to accommodate the patrol wagon and a dozen or so horses of the new mounted squad. The corner turret also served as a watchtower, where an officer could sit and look out for fires in the district (in later years, veteran officers would tease the rookies and tell them they would get stuck with the fire watch detail if they got out of line).

When newly appointed Captain Hugh Frank Gorman and the men of what was then called the 17th Police Precinct moved into their new home at 6 p.m. on June 2, 1892, the force was the smallest in the city with only 38 men. Now that they had a new station house, the force expanded to about 60 patrolmen, including the mounted unit with 14 horses and at least two police cats.

During this time period, the district was the largest in the city, covering nine square miles stretching from Queens County to the town of Flatbush, and from Jamaica Bay to the county line. The district included East New York, Brownsville, and Cypress Hills.

Although it was thickly populated in Brownsville, the majority of the district was rural, with farms and numerous detached homes that were magnets to burglars.

The Final Years of the Liberty Avenue Police Station

By 1909, when this story of Dewey and Dick took place, Captain Gorman had already been dead for 11 years, having passed away at the young age of 48 on March 1, 1898, from cirrhosis of the liver. Sadly, he died only one year after his retirement.

East New York had also far outgrown its police facilities. The Liberty Avenue building had a maximum capacity of 113 police officers, which was not enough to protect the 90,000 people living among the 139 miles of streets in the district.

The Chat, July 1909

Some of the 80 street posts were now more than two miles long, and with sick time and vacations, there were oftentimes as few as 40 men to cover all those posts. The people of Cypress Hills, in the northern portion of the large district, were demanding more coverage. They’d have to wait a long time.

With the advent of the motorized patrol car, the horse stables were replaced by a three-story garage in the 1920s, when this was now the 44th precinct. Around 1930, the precinct was renamed the 75th Police Precinct.

The NYPD stopped using the building in 1973–almost 65 years after the residents began demanding a new station! By this time, the police were in desperate of need of not only more space, but also many more electrical outlets and bathrooms.

A modern new headquarters for the 75th precinct was finally established at 1000 Sutton Avenue.

In September 1975, the city announced that it would be selling the Liberty Avenue building—along with 400 other buildings and lots—at a large public auction. The starting bid was set at $15,000; the city would only accept bids from a community group that would use the police station for nonprofit purposes.

The winning bidder was the Peoples Baptist First Church, which occupied the building into the early 1980s.

484 Liberty Avenue, 2022
Google Street Views, 2022

Eventually, the building was vacated and left to deteriorate. Windows were knocked out and the doors were barricaded with wood that rotted over time.

Then in 2016 it was purchased by David Krinsky of Triple Five Holdings LLC. Numerous permits were issued in the summer of 2021, so hopefully the building will one day be restored to its original glory.

In Part II of this story, I’ll share the interesting history of the New Lots Police Department and the old station houses that led up to the castle at 484 Liberty Avenue.

484 Liberty Avenue, 2022
Google Street Views, 2022.
The 75th Police Precinct at 1000 Sutton Avenue.
The 75th Police Precinct at 1000 Sutton Avenue.
Peggy with the newest Brooklyn fire dogs. New York Daily News, July 13, 1936
Peggy with the newest Brooklyn fire dogs. New York Daily News, July 13, 1936

For almost four months in 1936, Bess was the most famous mother of all the Brooklyn fire dogs in the Fire Department of New York. But then her own daughter took over the Top Mom title of the FDNY.

Bess was the prize-winning mascot of Engine Company 257, stationed at Rockaway Parkway and Farragut Road in the Canarsie neighborhood of Brooklyn. In February 1936, she presented her firefighter friends at the circa 1903 firehouse with eight full-blooded Dalmatian puppies.

Not to be outdone by her mother, Peggy, one of Bess’s daughters from an earlier litter, duplicated her mother’s maternal feat. In June 1936, the blue-ribbon-winning Dalmatian also gave birth to eight puppies at her firehouse—Hook and Ladder 123, stationed at 423-25 Ralph Avenue and Bergen Street in Weeksville.

The father of Peggy’s pooches was Pal, another prize-winning Dalmatian attached to Engine Company 271 in the eastern section of Ridgewood.

Peggy strikes another pose with her baby Brooklyn fire dogs for the Brooklyn Daily Eagle.
Peggy strikes another pose with her baby Brooklyn fire dogs for the Brooklyn Daily Eagle.

Although the press did not give any additional coverage to Peggy and Bess beyond their maternal actions, the Brooklyn Daily Eagle wrote a short tribute to Pal following his death in 1939. Lieutenant Joseph Oesau of Hook and Ladder 170 also sung Pal’s praises in an article published in the Daily News in 1949.

According to Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Pal came to the firehouse at 392 Himrod Street sometime around 1931. Although he sustained a broken leg while still a pup, he was treated at the Ellin Prince Speyer Hospital. The leg completely mended, allowing him to chase the fire engines as they responded to calls.

Engine Company 271 at 392 Himrod Street. NYC Department of Records, 1940
Pal was attached to the firehouse of Engine Company 271 at 392 Himrod Street. NYC Department of Records, 1940

Pal knew all the sounds of the fire engine and the alarm bells, and could distinguish between the engine company and the ladder company—Hook and Ladder 124—which was stationed next door to the engine company. According to Lt. Oesau, he would never go out if only the truck responded to a call.

Pal was also “the daddy of most of the fire dogs,” Lt. Oeasau said. He knew every brewery in the neighborhood, and he had a favorite sweetheart across the street in a peddler’s cart yard. When the yard moved to Bushwick Avenue and Siegel Street about two miles away, Pal would frequently visit his girlfriend at her new home.

During his final year of life, Pal started staying behind when the engines rolled. In September 1939, the men took him to the animal hospital, where he was diagnosed with uremic poisoning.

He died in the hospital on October 3 and was buried in a small private pet cemetery at Waldheim, which was James Speyer’s beautiful country estate in Scarborough, New York. Tammany, the New York City Hall mascot cat, was also buried at this cemetery a few months earlier, in April 1939.

It was reported that a heavy gloom hung over the firehouse following Pal’s passing. Unfortunately, none of the men that he worked most closely with were able to attend the funeral, but their thoughts were with him as he was “laid away among the tall pines.” All of the men agreed that Pal could never be replaced.

Waldheim, the 130-acre Hudson Valley estate of James Speyer
Pal was buried in an aristocratic animal cemetery at Waldheim, the majestic 130-acre Hudson Valley estate of James Speyer, husband of the late Ellin Prince Speyer. The estate, which fronted the Scarborough-Briarcliff Road and the Albany Post Road, was sold in 1947 and subdivided into about 200 building lots for modest-priced single-family homes.

Did You Know?

According to the old records on file with the New York City Fire Museum, Brooklyn’s volunteer fire corps, which provided fire protection for what was then the City of Brooklyn, were among the first to employ Dalmatians. The Brooklyn fire dogs were intended to be pals for the horses, often sleeping in the stalls and sharing mealtime with their equine friends. The horses in turn took good care of the dogs en route to fires—although there were occasional accidents, some fatal, the horses almost instinctively avoided hitting the dogs racing alongside them.

Fire dogs, whether they were Dalmatians or mutts, acted as sheep dogs for the horses. At the sound of the alarm, the dog would get in front of the horses and bark at the team until they were in their harnesses and hooked up to the rig. The dog would then run out the door, look down the street to make sure the coast was clear, and return to the team to bark a few more orders.

When the men were all turned out in their gear and aboard the apparatus, the horses would start out the door with the fire dog running proudly out in front or nipping at the horses to encourage them on–just like a sheep dog would do.

Perhaps Pal is one of these Brooklyn fire dogs, pictured here in 1935 as they march along Eastern Parkway during a parade sponsored by the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,
Perhaps Pal is one of these Brooklyn fire dogs, pictured here in 1935 as they march along Eastern Parkway during a parade sponsored by the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,

One Dalmatian attached to Engine Company 22, at Quincy Street near Ralph Avenue, reportedly used to bark at anyone and anything to clear the street when the company was preparing to roll. The dog took this job very seriously, if not a bit too seriously: one time he bit a letter carrier who was walking past the firehouse just as the engines were about to respond. He was not about to let the carrier get in the way of the horse-drawn fire engine.

Massive, mechanical wheels of the the new gas-powered engines and trucks did not treat the fire dogs as kindly as did the intelligent fire horses. Once the horses were gone, the men felt their fire dogs were safer staying behind in the fire house.

By the late 1940s, the Dalmatian was slowly disappearing from the FDNY. According to fire officials, there were less than 100 (101?) Dalmatians attached to the many city firehouses in 1949. Most of these dogs served as mascots as they no longer had a real job to do (except, perhaps, have puppies!).

Champion Dalmatian fire dogs, New York
Peggy, Bess, and Pal may have won their ribbons at the Westminster Kennel Club Annual Dog Show at Madison Square Garden, as shown in this photo of Dalmatian fire dogs with their handlers in 1941. Photo by Bert Morgan
Bessie Dalmatian puppies 1936
Another look at Bessie’s puppies. The press couldn’t get enough of the cuteness!

One more look at Peggy's adorable Brooklyn fire dogs.
One more look at Peggy’s adorable Brooklyn fire dogs.

  

 

Alexander S. Thweatt ticket agent for Southern Railway, battles a black cat, 1900.
Alexander S. Thweatt battles a black cat, 1900.

Once upon a time, a renowned employee for the Southern Railway lost a battle to a cat that had broken into his home on West 44th Street. Before I tell you about this battle, allow me to introduce you to Alexander Stephens Thweatt, a Southern gentleman who dedicated his life to the railway.

Alexander Thweatt was born in Milledgeville, Georgia, in 1862. He was the son of Peterson Thweatt, Confederate Comptroller General for Georgia during the Civil War.

Alex started working at the age of 12 as a clerk in the ticket office of the Richmond and Danville Railroad in Atlanta. By the age of 20, he was a district passenger agent for this railway.

In 1885, Alex married Nannie Neill Hays of Louisville. Nannie’s father was Major Thomas H. Hays, another Confederate veteran and a former State Senator of Kentucky. Her grandfather was John L. Helm, governor of Kentucky in 1850 and 1867.

The couple moved to New York City around 1894, when Alex was promoted to Eastern passenger agent for the newly reorganized Southern Railway. At this time, the railway, which offered passenger service to the Carolinas, Georgia, Florida, Mexico, and California, had offices in the National Shoe and Leather Bank Building at 271 Broadway.

1893 National Shoe and Leather Bank Building was home to the Southern Railway
The Southern Railway paid $7,000 a year in rent for its offices in the circa 1893 National Shoe and Leather Bank Building at 271 Broadway, on the southwest corner of Chambers Street. This building was replaced with a 28-story skyscraper around 1910.
Southern Railway vintage ad

Alexander actively marketed the Southern Railway, placing national ads promoting events such as Mardi Gras and Atlanta conventions, which would attract numerous rail passengers from New York, Baltimore, and other eastern cities on the rail line. He also promoted himself by sharing work stories or little snippets of conversations that he overheard during his day, like this snipped below.

The Great Possum Escape at the Southern Railway Office

By December 1904, when this next story took place, the Southern Railway had a second New York City office at 1185 Broadway, on the northwest corner of West 28th Street, in a building attached to the Fifth Avenue Theatre.

According to the New York World, Alexander “gave an impromptu exhibition of how to handle a possum” on New Year’s Eve that year. “His appearance in the role of an animal trainer was in the railway office at 28th Street and Broadway, in the presence of an awe-stricken crowd of clerks, policemen, citizens, and Sam, the porter.”

Apparently, Alexander had received a Christmas present of four large persimmon-fed possums from friends in North Carolina. The possums reached his office late, were fed, and left in their crate for the night. When Alexander came downtown the next day, he found the sidewalk in front of his office blocked by young boys with their noses glued to the big plate glass windows.

“What’s the trouble, Sam?” he asked the porter, who was running excitedly from one door to another.

“Good Lawdy, don’t you see. Eem blamed possums has done got loose and I can’t ketch ‘em.”

Alexander laughed at Sam. “What, you can’t catch a possum?” Sam explained that he was born and raised in New York and had never ever seen a possum before let alone tried to catch one.

Seeing that something had to be done as the crowd grew larger, Alexander threw off his overcoat and went inside. He gently kicked the first possum, which then played dead. Then he reached down and put his forefinger under its tail.

Perhaps these were the large windows at 1815 Broadway where the young boys had pressed their noses to watch the possums running about the offices of the Southern Railway. The Fifth Avenue Theatre (former Apollo Hall), which had a main entrance on West 28th Street, is just to the left of this circa 1900 photo.

The possum curled its tail curled around his finger, allowing Alex to lift it back into the crate. He did the same with the other three possums.

“You see, I was raised in the South,” he told the crowd. “I’ve been possum hunting many times. When a boy I learned that all you had to do was to touch a possum’s tail. The possum will play ‘dead’ immediately and you can do anything you want to with him.”

Alex said he would send three of the possums to Southern friends living in New York City. The other he reportedly had killed and later served with candied yams—yuck (possum was a very popular Southern dish at this time).

Now, Alexander may have been a good possum wrangler, but when it came to other animals, he was apparently a bit challenged.

The Cat Burglar of West 44th Street

In 1927, all the buildings in this circa 1925 photo were torn down to make room for the 30-story Hotel Lincoln. New York Public Library Digital Collections
In 1900, Alexander Thweatt was living in a four-story apartment building at 257 West 44th Street, near 8th Avenue, pictured here in 1925 (far right, only partially visible). In 1927, all the buildings in this photo were torn down to make way for the 30-story Hotel Lincoln. New York Public Library Digital Collections

One night in March 1900, after retiring to the bedroom in his ground-floor apartment at 257 West 44th Street, he was awakened by his wife Nannie. She whispered to him, “There must be burglars in the house. I’ve heard them.”

Alex got his revolver and crept out of bed. He was groping around in the darkness when he heard a loud yell. Somehow, he managed to jump and land on top of his dining room table (I’d be very impressed if he did indeed pull off this cat-like maneuver, especially since the press once called him “a somewhat corpulent gentleman”).

He turned on a light and searched the room, but there was no burglar in sight. However, the front window was partly open.

While continuing to search the room, Alex spied a large black cat trying to get out the window. He dropped his revolver, picked up a broom, and chased the midnight cat burglar.

During the battle, the poor man sprained his right ankle, broke two window panes, smashed all the crockery on a sideboard, and upset a parlor lamp. Luckily, the lamp—if powered by kerosene–was not lit at the time.

The cat escaped without harm. Maybe, just perhaps, this cat was an ancestor of Abe Lincoln, the brave kitten who took up residence at the Hotel Lincoln, the large hotel that was constructed in 1927 on the site where Alexander and his family lived in 1900.

The Final Days of Alexander S. Thweatt and the Southern Railway

During the 1900s, the Southern Railway moved its New York City offices several times. In 1906, they moved to the ground floor of the Gilsey House at 1200 Broadway, on the northeast corner of East 29th. (Maybe the owners of the Fifth Avenue Theatre didn’t want to take any more chances with escaped possums?)

The Gilsey House at 1200 Broadway (extant), on the northeast corner of East 29th Street, celebrated its grand opening on April 15, 1871. The Southern Railway opened its midtown office here in 1906.
The Gilsey House at 1200 Broadway (extant), on the northeast corner of East 29th Street, celebrated its grand opening on April 15, 1871. The Southern Railway opened its midtown office here in July 1906.

By 1914, the offices of the Southern Railway had taken over the retail space once occupied by upscale jewelry store Howard & Co. at 264 Fifth Avenue, a former mansion that had been the home of New York City merchant A.T. Stewart. 

264 Fifth Avenue, pictured here in 1940. New York City Department of Records.
Around 1913-14, the Southern Railway opened a new office at 264 Fifth Avenue, pictured here in 1940. New York City Department of Records.

Alexander died in his home at 600 West 150th Street following a brief illness on December 4, 1917. He was survived by his wife, four married daughters, a son, and four grandchildren. He was buried in Kensico Cemetery in Valhalla, New York.

Following Alexander’s death, there were no more newspaper ads promoting the railway offices at 264 Fifth Avenue. Perhaps Southern Railway moved its offices in 1917, but the ads stopped, never to run again, when the old ticket agent died.

From the mid-1920s to 1930, the offices for Southern Railway were located at 152 West 42nd Street. A man by the whimsical name of R.H. De Butts was the Eastern passenger agent.

In 1971, Amtrak took over most intercity rail service. Southern Railway initially opted out of turning over its passenger routes to the new organization; however, it shared with Amtrak operation of its flagship train, the New Orleans-New York Southern Crescent. Under a longstanding haulage agreement, Amtrak carried the flagship train to all stops north of Washington.

By the late 1970s, growing revenue losses and expenses forced Southern to exit the passenger rail business. It handed full control of its passenger routes to Amtrak in 1979.

Today, the Crescent runs a daily train from New York City to New Orleans. I’m a big fan of trains, so this trip is on my bucket list. I’ll raise a toast for Alexander while we’re rolling through Georgia.

One of the last ads for Southern Railway during Alex S. Thweatt's tenure as Eastern passenger ticket agent.
One of the last ads for Southern Railway during Alex S. Thweatt’s tenure as Eastern passenger ticket agent.

Over the River and Through the Woods to Gabe Case’s Place on Jerome Avenue

Sleigh-riding in Central Park, 1898. New York Public Library Digital Collections
Sleigh-riding in Central Park, 1898. New York Public Library Digital Collections

As I sit here writing this story on the third day of January 2022, we still have not had any snow in the Hudson Valley. Well, we had a dusting of snow on Christmas Eve, but that was certainly not enough snow to go sleigh riding on a plastic toboggan let alone a horse-drawn sleigh.

In the late 1800s and early 1900s, the first snowfall of the season in New York City was marked by a race in horse-drawn sleighs. Trotters of wealthy railroad men, bankers, merchants, and stablemen would race through Central Park, down Seventh Avenue, over the Central Bridge (Macombs Dam Bridge), and along Central Avenue (Jerome Avenue) to Johnny D. Barry’s, Gabe Case’s, or Judge Smith’s roadhouses in what was then the West Morrisania neighborhood of the Bronx.

The prize to the horseman who arrived first on runners without scraping the macadam was a magnum of wine or champagne, plus plenty of bragging rights. It was expected that the winner would share the magnum’s contents with his fellow horsemen at the roadhouse.

The winner of the first snowfall race would win a magnum of wine or champagne at one of the several roadhouses along Jerome Avenue, just across from Macombs Dam Bridge.
The winner of the first snowfall race would win a magnum of wine or champagne at one of the several roadhouses along Jerome Avenue, just across from Macombs Dam Bridge.
1898 poem about the sleigh-riding contest.
1898 poem about the sleigh-riding contest.

This era was the heyday of road racing in Harlem and the Bronx, when high-society men like William K. Vanderbilt, Jay Gould, William Rockefeller, William C. Whitney, Leonard Jerome, and Robert Bonner would put on a spectacular show by racing their trotters on snowy days and on every spring and summer afternoon.

Thousands of spectators would gather on the grassy banks of the streets to watch and cheer on their favorite trotters as they headed down Seventh Avenue in Harlem and Jerome Avenue in the Bronx.

No doubt the men had great fun racing down the street, but their real goal was Fleetwood Park racetrack, where gentlemen could trot their horses against time on a one-mile oval track.

Fleetwood Park Racetrack
From about 1871 to 1898, Fleetwood Park was a popular racetrack located in what was then the town of Morrisania (then Westchester County), between present-day Webster and Sheridan Avenues and 165th and 167th Streets. According to the New York City Landmarks Preservation, the last race took place there on October 8, 1897. The park was officially closed on January 1, 1898, and development along Clay Avenue began in 1901 with the construction of 28 two-family homes.

One of the favorite features of these daily equine displays were the social gatherings and suppers at the various roadhouses scattered along Jerome Avenue, on the east side of Macombs Dam Bridge.

Johnny D. Barry’s, aka The Romantic House, was the first roadhouse as one crossed over the old wooden bridge (see illustration below). Next there was Gabe Case’s place along Cromwell’s Creek, where one could get the finest fish supper. Beyond Gabe’s, about a mile farther up Jerome Avenue, was Judge Smith’s roadhouse at East 167th Street, which was just a few blocks west of Fleetwood Park.

Macombs Dam Bridge 
Jerome Avenue
In 1813, Robert Macomb constructed a dam across the Harlem River for his mill on Devoe’s Point. Although the state required Macomb to operate a lock to keep navigation open, only small boats could pass through the small lock at his toll bridge. The Central Bridge opened in 1861 and was replaced by the current Macombs Dam Bridge in 1895. Johnny Barry’s old roadhouse was torn down a year later.

One of the most famous customers of these popular roadhouses was William K. Vanderbilt, who ruled the horse-racing world with his trotters Aldine, Early Rose, Maud S, Lysander, and Leander. Vanderbilt, whose father (Cornelius Vanderbilt) was also a frequent customer, never missed a stopover at the three main roadhouses on a winter sleigh ride or while on his way to Fleetwood Park. At Gabe Case’s, he would rest for a while on the piazza or join his fellow horsemen in the conservatory, aka lookout tower.

William Vanderbilt with Maud S. and Aldine at Fleetwood Park in 1883.
William Vanderbilt with Maud S. and Aldine at Fleetwood Park in 1883.

Although Vanderbilt was the king of the racetrack, when it came to sleigh riding, no one could beat stableman and Harlem River Speedway superintendent John J. Quinn. Every year for almost 25 years in a row, Quinn won the coveted magnum of wine at Gabe Case’s roadhouse with his many trotters, including Wildwood, Lutegard, and Dexter K.

Quinn owned the Eureka boarding stables in Harlem on 124th Street just off Seventh Avenue. As the stableman once told the press, “three snowflakes meant sleighing.” He had a standing order with the stable foreman to have the fastest horse in the stable ready at the stable door at the first sign of snowfall.

John Quinn on the Harlem River Speedway. The Illustrated American, 1898.
John Quinn on the Harlem River Speedway with Dexter K and another horse. The Illustrated American, 1898.

Sometimes Quinn would cheat by jumping the gun too fast and dragging his sled’s runners on the bare macadam. Gabe Case would have to send him home without the magnum; a new race would take place the day after the first snowfall was adequate for proper sleigh riding along Jerome Avenue.

John Quinn with his horse Dexter K. in 1898
John Quinn with his horse Dexter K. in front of his Harlem stables in 1898. Maybe it’s just the poor quality of this news photo, but it looks like grass or macadam is still showing on the ground.

A Brief History of Gabe Case and His Jerome Avenue Roadhouse

Although all of the roadhouse owners reportedly awarded a magnum of wine or champagne to the fastest sleigh riders, Gabe Case’s place had a great reputation for several reasons.

Gabe Case's roadhouse, Jerome Avenue
Gabe Case’s hotel and roadhouse on Jerome Avenue. Surrounded by woodlands and close to Fleetwood Park and Cromwell’s Creek, it was a popular rendezvous spot for horsemen and fishermen. The roadhouse featured Swiss gingerbread work and a tower with a brass weather vane in the shape of a horse.

Gabe Case was born on Clinton Street in the Lower East Side of Manhattan in 1830. He was married for a short time, but his wife reportedly died at a young age, sometime prior to 1880. The couple never had children.

Gabe’s first business venture was a hotel called The Fulton, which was at 18th Street and Fourth Avenue. When the Fleetwood Park racetrack opened in 1871, he took a job managing the clubhouse there. Like the other men who raced at Fleetwood, Gabe was also a horseman who enjoyed racing his chestnut trotters Tom and Jerry at the track or taking longer rides with his reliable distance horse, Decoration.

Sometime prior to 1875, a hotelier named William H. Florence built a roadhouse on Jerome Avenue, just north of present-day 162nd Street. The roadhouse property backed onto Cromwell’s Creek, named for the descendants of John Cromwell, a nephew of Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell. In the late 1700s, James Cromwell used the waters of the creek to propel his mill.

1879 map of Morrisania and Jerome Avenue
The site of Gabe Case’s hotel at the intersection of what was then Jerome Avenue and Marchwood Place is noted at the top center of this 1879 map of Morrisania.

William Florence had owned a large hotel on 154th Street and Eighth Avenue, just west of Macomb’s Dam bridge in Manhattan. He lost the property in 1873 after allowing ex-Assemblyman Tomas C. Fields to use the hotel as collateral in lieu of a $5000 bond. Fields skipped town, and Florence’s hotel was seized.

Florence’s new building had a commanding view of Jerome Avenue and the bridge, and was surrounded by a beautiful forest along Cromwell’s Creek, which was a popular place for swimming, fishing for striped bass, and ice skating.

Gabe Case took over the lease from William Florence and named it Gabe Case’s Hotel.

Gabe Case's Hotel and the Hoboken Turtle Club on Jerome Avenue
Gabe Case’s Hotel and the Hoboken Turtle Club are noted on the middle left of this 1885 map.
Gabe Case
Gabe Case in perhaps his slimmer years.

In addition to the renowned sleigh-riding contests, Gabe Case hosted many events at his roadhouse, including a popular quail-eating contest and a hog-guessing contest (guess how many pounds it weighs). Gabe Case’s was also headquarters for the Hoboken Turtle Club, whose members would host annual clambakes and turtle soup dinners at the hotel. News reporters liked to point out that Gabe’s large size (at one point he reportedly weighed 285 pounds) was probably a good advertisement for his food business.

In addition to his horses, which lived in stables attached to the roadhouse, Gabe Case kept a green parrot, several canaries, and a few bull terriers at the roadhouse. During the winter months, Gabe reportedly loved to sit in the hall close to his beloved talking parrot as he greeted all the sleigh riders.

The Final Days of Gabe Case and His Roadhouse

In 1886, a museum man named George H. Huber purchased Gabe Case’s place for $25,000. The deal allowed Gabe to continue running the roadhoase–where he also lived with his nephew, Charlie Russell–until his lease expired in 1890.

On March 30, 1890, just two days before Gabe was scheduled to take over the lease at the old Mount Saint Vincent House in Central Park (which later became McGown’s Pass Tavern under Case’s proprietorship), his horse Decoration died of complications from colic. The horse, whom Gabe had purchased from Robert Bonner for $215 in 1879, was buried near the old Fleetwood Park; a monument was erected there in his honor.

Gabe postponed his move to Mount Saint Vincent, possibly due in part to his horse’s passing.

George Huber ran a museum on East 14th Street, where Harry Houdini reportedly performed when he was 17 and several wild wolves appeared in a performance called “Little Red Riding Hood and her pack of tamed wolves.”

Much has been written about Gabe Case’s years at McGown’s Pass Tavern, so I’m skipping that part for another story at a later time. So we’ll fast-forward to July 1901, when Huber expanded Gabe’s old Jerome Avenue roadhouse to accommodate vaudeville performances.

By this time, the interest in racing trotters along Jerome Avenue was waning, especially since Fleetwood Park had shut down a few years earlier. Gabe was still awarding the magnum of wine to sleigh riders, but now the horsemen were racing only as far as McGown’s Pass Tavern in Central Park.

On June 1, 1904, Gabe Case died in his residence at the tavern at the age of 74. A large funeral procession led from his tavern to Calvary Methodist Episcopal Church at Seventh Avenue and 129th Street–this was the first ever funeral procession through Central Park. Case was buried at Woodlawn Cemetery.

McGown's Pass Tavern
Gabe Case died at his McGown’s Pass Tavern on June 1, 1904. (Notice the horses near the entranceway.)

Eight years after Gabe Case’s death, on June 12, 1912, a fire caused considerable damage to a wing that had been added to his old roadhouse on Jerome Avenue. This building was occupied by a fight club where boxers could train and compete. The main building, including the lookout tower, was not damaged in the fire.

Gabe Case old roadhouse, Jerome Avenue

Three years later, Huber decided to sell all of his vast holdings on Jerome Avenue, which included 56 lots between 162nd and 170th Streets. Apparently the old roadhouse had been repaired by this time; New York State Senator George Thompson reportedly purchased it for his wife as a Christmas gift.

I’m not sure what Mrs. Thompson did with her gift, but I do know that by 1924, the old Jerome Avenue roadhouse was on its way out.

George Huber's Jerome Avenue holdings included the old roadhouse (building with tower at left) and all these other buildings pictured in 1910.
George Huber’s Jerome Avenue holdings included Gabe Case’s old roadhouse (building with tower at left) and all these other buildings pictured in 1910.

In 1924, the City of New York acquired land for a park on seven blocks to the east and west of Cromwell Avenue.

Then in 1929, the Bronx County Park Association extended Macombs Dam Park above 162nd Street along Jerome Avenue, atop the old Cromwell’s Creek. They named the park in honor of John Mullaly, a news editor and secretary of the Parks Commission.

The southwestern end of John Mullaly Park was constructed over the site of Gabe Case's hotel and roadhouse on Jerome Avenue and 162nd Street.
The southwestern end of John Mullaly Park was constructed over the site of Gabe Case’s hotel and roadhouse on Jerome Avenue and 162nd Street.

Mullaly was a strong advocate of setting aside parkland in the Bronx. His efforts culminated in the 1884 New Parks Act and the city’s 1888-90 purchase of lands for Van Cortlandt, Claremont, Crotona, Bronx, St. Mary’s, and Pelham Bay Parks, as well as the Mosholu, Pelham, and Crotona Parkways.

John Mullaly park opened on August 24, 1932.

Groundbreaking for the new Yankee Stadium–which replaced the old 1923 stadium just south of East 161st Street–began in August 2006. The first ground was broken on a running track at Macombs Dam Park and at the southern end of John Mullaly Park.  

Today, if you’re sitting way out in left field at the stadium, you can think about Gabe Case’s roadhouse and the famous horsemen who raced their trotters to that very location on summer afternoons or whenever it snowed in Old New York.

All that equine history took place right under your seat.

This doctored Google Earth map shows the location of the old Yankee Stadium (which is now Elson Gene Howard Field) and the new stadium. The red X marks the approximate spot of Gabe Case’s roadhouse inn on Jerome Avenue at 162nd Street.