A Christmas Catastrophe by Louis Wain. It appears that the “catastrophe” was due to a caged bird (perhaps supper?) escaping from its cage.
Peter the Cat, Louis Wain, 1897
As I write this post, I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of “A Christmas Catastrophe,” one of the popular cat illustrations by the great cat artist Louis William Wain. Of course it is only a reprint, but I still can’t wait to hang it on my wall (and I plan on getting some more Louis Wain reprints in the future).
Louis Wain was not a New Yorker — he was born in 1860 in Clerkenwell, London — but he did live in New York for a few years, so there is a New York City connection to his amazing life story.
In 1884, Louis married Emily Marie Richardson, who had been the governess of his five younger sisters. The couple never had an opportunity to have children, but they did have a pet cat — a stray black-and-white kitten that they rescued after hearing his cries in their yard. This cat, whom they called Peter, would have a profound effect on Louis Wain’s life.
Louis Wain with one of his many feline pets and models (perhaps this is the brown tabby that he spoke of in the New York Herald in 1909).
Shortly after their marriage, Emily was diagnosed with breast cancer. During her three-year battle, she took great joy in watching Louis sketch pictures of Peter. It was Emily who encouraged her husband to get the drawings published.
And the rest, as they say, is history. Over the next few decades, Louis would go on to complete thousands of cat illustrations (possibly 150,000) for various periodicals and children’s books.
As the writer H. G. Wells said of Wain in a statement read on his behalf for the BBC in 1925, “He has made the cat his own. He invented a cat style, a cat society, a whole cat world. English cats that do not look and live like Louis Wain cats are ashamed of themselves.”
In addition to his popular anthropomorphic cats, Louis Wain also specialized in psychedelic or kaleidoscope cats. He was truly a cat man ahead of his time.
Much has been written about Louis Wain, and hundreds of websites feature his illustrations and books. For my story, I am going to focus on the years he lived in New York, on his memories of Peter, and on his opinions of New York City cats in general.
Louis Wain Moves to New York
In October 1907, Louis moved to New York City to draw New York cats (and work aside the city’s fat cats). Perhaps he was motivated to make this journey to truly follow in the footsteps of John Henry Dolph, who was called “the leading cat painter in America” in 1894.
Upon arrival in the city, he began working for William Randolph Hearst’s newspapers, creating syndicated comic strips such as “Cats About Town” and “Grimalkin.” (Incidentally, Cats About Town is the name of my New York City walking tour company. Great minds think alike…)
Americans welcomed Louis with open paws: the New York press called him “the world’s most famous cat artist” and he was often invited to take part of events hosted by the American Cat Fancy and cat clubs across the country.
Because my stories focus on events in New York City, I wanted to find out where Louis lived while he was in the city. My response from Google’s AI was as follows: “Specific residential addresses for his time in New York are not detailed in the available records.”
Sorry, Google, but you didn’t try hard enough. It took me five minutes to find the answer. According to the 1910 census report, Louis Wain lived in room 15A of the Frederick Hotel at 210 West 56th Street.
The Frederick (formerly called the Sterling Hotel) at 210 West 56th Street was constructed in 1902 on land owned by Charles E. Ellis. The 134-room hotel, which was more of a boarding house, had approximately 50 residents, 7 maids, and 2 hired men in 1910. The proprietor was a widow named Winifred J. Smith.
In 1909, Louis was interviewed by a reporter for the New York Herald. The following is an excerpt from this article:
For the last fourteen years I have painted cats exclusively. When I first took to drawing and painting them they were treated as despised animals, looked on as vermin by sportsmen…The man who would take an interest in the cat movement was looked upon as effeminate. In fifteen years this has greatly changed.
“Peter, a pet cat who lived to be 16 years old, was my inspiration at the start. He was a wonderful black and white and was famous all over England for his cleverness. He didn’t like to pose much, in fact as soon as he saw me get out my sketch book he got sulky and refused to let me draw him. I have known only one cat vain enough to sit for a picture. That was a brown tabby I owned who positively enjoyed it. She would hold a pose for an hour.
A Kittens Christmas, Louis Wain, 1886 Illustrated London News. Emily would die one week after publication of this illustration.
“Peter was very peculiar, not like the ordinary cat with one set expression. He had a face with a sardonic grin and the funniest look in his eyes. I went to the Illustrated London News with a lot of drawings showing Peter standing on his head and doing all sorts of stunts.
“The editor said, ‘but cats don’t grin, they don’t stand on their heads. It’s not art.’ However, the proprietor saw the drawings and at once commissioned me to do a double page for the Christmas number. This was an instant success and I have devoted myself wholly to drawing and painting cats.”
After speaking for some time about Peter, Louis told the reporter how he was able to draw hundreds of varieties of cats:
To most persons all cats look alike. To be sure there are certain characteristics that are the same in all, but there is an endless variety of expressions. If you have noticed, a cat has a round face. It is a series of circles, the cheeks are round, its chops are round, its anatomy is round, there are rings around its neck and its ears are largely round. Working from this point you can secure hundreds of different varieties.”
Louis Wain, The Attack on the Stagecoach
According to Louis, the outlook for cats was better than that of dogs, but Americans still had some work to do to make America great for cats. “I find, however,” he said, “a great love for animals among Americans. It only awaits organized movement.”
Louis continued, “It will require the devotion of women of wealth and social position who will give their time and means to it as the English women have done to bring the cat to this exalted position in America.” (Perhaps he was referring to Caroline Ewen, who met both those requirements.)
Carol Singing, Louis Wain
Louis also shared his opinion about New York cats, and why they were at a disadvantage from their fellow felines who frolicked in fields on the other side of the pond.
“New York cats live in basements. In the homes they are kept below stairs and in the factories, business houses, banks and warehouses they are kept in cellars and only come out of their retreats after dark when they make night hideous by their yowls.
Bringing Home the Yule Log, Louis Wain, 1910
“There is no repose for cats in New York, you see, on account of so much noise, rush, and movement. The weak brain of the cat is not capable of taking it all in and it becomes confused and unmanageable. This makes an underground animal, which has consequently, because of its unnatural environment, grown very uncertain in temper, not to say savage, and as a result the specimens seen about this city are more or less what we call in England ‘strays.'”
Even in his later years, Louis Wain surrounded himself with cats, both real and illustrated.
Although Louis had only intended to spend a few months in America, he stayed in the city until his mother passed away in 1910, returning to England and assuming his former role as head of the Wain family (human and feline). Louis suffered a stroke in 1938 and passed away nine months later at the age of 78.
In 2021, Amazon Studios released a movie about Louis Wain’s life called The Electrical Life of Louis Wain and starring Benedict Cumberbatch as Louis and Claire Foy as his wife, Emily. I watched it last night for the first time and I must say that the cats who portrayed Peter stole the show! (The film features about 40 different cats, so if you need a cat fix, this movie if for you.)
By the way, the main cat who played Peter in The Electrical Life of Louis Wain is named Felix Wilde, with cats Windsor Wilde and Norbury Ackland playing the younger and kitten versions of Peter, respectively. All three cats were trained by Charlotte Wilde.
Sometimes I find a ridiculously absurd story that isn’t specifically about a cat or dog or other animal, but I can’t resist sharing it. This crazy “cat tale” of New York City’s Gilded Age involves a two-family home on Hart Street in Bushwick, Brooklyn, a large hole in the ceiling, an even larger sabre, a bit of indecent exposure (for those days), a court hearing, a street chase, and a few cameo appearances by an unnamed cat.
The tale begins on May 18, 1893, when Justice Adolph H. Goetting of the Lee Avenue Police Court received a visit from Mrs. Theodore Loeffler and her daughter. Miss Loeffler told the judge that a few days earlier, her father had hired a plumber and a carpenter to fix some leaking pipes above their dining room ceiling.
To repair the pipes, the carpenter had to cut an 18-inch hole in the floor of the kitchen of Anton Miller, who lived with his wife directly above the Loeffers at 633 Hart Street. According to the Loefflers, when Miller saw the hole in his kitchen, he told the workmen to leave and refused to let them finish the job. The Loefflers asked the landlord to close the hole, but he told the tenants that he was too busy to fix it.
And here’s where the story takes a tumble down the rabbit hole, pun intended.
Because the hole was directly over the Loeffler’s dining room table, the Millers could see their downstairs neighbors while they were eating. One day while the family was dining, a cat belonging to the Millers dropped through the hole and onto the table. Hearing Mrs. Loeffler’s screams, Mrs. Miller rushed to the hole.
Reportedly, Mrs. Miller stumbled and accidentally let a stove lifter fall through the hole (a stove lifter is a metal tool used for lifting the burner plates off the top of a wood- or coal-burning stove). The stove lifter fell on Theodore Loeffler’s arm.
Miller began waving an army sabre, like this one here, through the hole.
At that point, Loeffler ordered Miller to close the hole.
“I’m not the landlord, and if you want the hole closed you’ll have to do it yourself,” Miller said.
As a reporter for New York Herald wrote, “This conversation took place through the hole.”
The two men got into an argument, and Miller started dropping dishes through the hole. The cat also dropped through the hole and landed on the dining table a few more times over the next few days to add to the chaos.
One day while the Loefflers were at breakfast, Miller began waving a huge army sabre through the hole, just above their heads. He threatened to cut off their heads if they said another word to him.
Then a few nights later, when only Mrs. Loeffler and her daughter were home, Miller dangled his leg–with only his red undergarments on–through the hole. After Mrs. Miller screamed, Miller calmly said “ta ta” and withdrew his leg. Then he put his face in the hole and scowled at the women.
That was the straw–or should I say scowl–that broke the camel’s back. Mrs. Miller took it upon herself to walk to the home of Justice Goetting in Bushwick. She told him that even though they had moved their table away from the hole, Miller continued to throw things down on them, “and several times the cat has come through.”
The judge ordered Deputy Sheriff Denis Winters to go to the Millers’ home and issue an arrest warrant. Not so easily done…
When Officer Winters arrived at the apartment, Miller came running into the room wearing only his nightclothes and carrying what the officer said appeared to be a large German sword. To get away quickly, Winters slid down the banister and reached for the door handle, but not before Miller struck at his head and back with the sword.
A chase down Hart Street lasted for about 5 blocks until Miller fell down and twisted his ankle.
The case of Loeffler vs Miller took place at the Lee Avenue Police Court, than located at 6 Lee Street. NYC Records 1940 tax photo.
During the court hearing at the Lee Avenue Police Court, Miller and his wife cried, and Miller told the judge that everything that came through the hole had fallen accidentally. I doubt that Miller’s leg or his cat went through the hole by accident.
The case was settled when the judge ordered Miller to close the hole and then move out of the house immediately. The Millers accepted the deal, noting it was much better than putting Miller in jail.
I’m not sure if their cat moved with them or stayed in the apartment with the Loefflers on Hart Street…
For a closer look at the Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn, you may enjoy reading about the day it rained cats and dogs in Bushwick.
Before I tell you the story about the feline wedding of Don Dai and the Quakeress, I must share some history about the Plaza Hotel, and how it came to be a pet-friendly hotel…
In November 1907, shortly after the Plaza Hotel had opened, an actress named Mrs. Patrick Campbell traveled from Liverpool to New York to embark on her second American theater tour. Mrs. Campbell arrived in New York City with her daughter, her son, and her tiny monkey griffon, Pinky Panky Poo.
Mrs. Campbell with Pinky Panky Poo
Fred Sterry, managing director of the new Plaza Hotel, realized that rejecting Pinky Panky Poo would cause a public relations nightmare for the new hotel. And so he decided right on the spot to allow small pets at the Plaza.
Before long, all the high-society ladies of New York City were bringing their little lap dogs to the Plaza Hotel for afternoon tea.
One year later, an artist named Princess Lwoff-Parlaghy took advantage of the hotel’s liberal pet policy. Traveling to New York to paint portraits of famous Americans, she reserved a large 14-room suite at the Plaza Hotel for her own personal menagerie, including a small Pomeranian dog, an Angora cat, a guinea pig, an owl, an ibis, two small alligators, a small bear named Teddy, and a lion cub named Goldfleck.
Possibly encouraged by hearing these stories about the pet-friendly hotel, a wealthy and well-known cat fancier from Brighton, Massachusetts, decided that the Plaza Hotel was the perfect setting for a feline wedding. I’m not sure the bride and groom cats were crazy about the marriage, but it was pure marketing genius.
The Feline Wedding of Don Dai and the Quakeress
In December 1912, Mrs. George Bailey Brayton (aka Helen C. Brayton) invited the owners of cats “of aristocratic temperament” to a wedding of her pet cats, Don Dai and the Quakeress, described as “a tabby of royal blood.” The feline wedding would take place during the Silver Society Cat Show in the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel.
Don Dai was a 13-month-old, prize-winning English silver chinchilla cat of British ancestry. His cat parents were also show cats named Don II and Donette.
Here is Don Dai, the proud groom of the Quakeress.
Mrs. Brayton purchased the cat for $150 and shipped him back to New York on the Wilson-Furness Leyland steamer Cambrian in his very own stateroom. On board the ship, Don Dai slept in a velvet-lined basket, had his own steward, and “partook of cream and only the daintiest morsels.”
Mrs. Brayton with one of her many prize-winning cats
The story of the feline wedding was covered extensively by newspapers across the country.
The Brooklyn Daily Times had tremendous fun with the tale, suggesting that the cats were married by the Reverend Thomas Meeyow at the Church of the Holy Cats; maids of honor were Miss Fluffy Milksop and Miss Silky Hairball; ushers were Thomas Yowler and Thomas Mouser; and the honeymoon was an extended tour of all the back fences between New York City and Niagara Falls.
The Jasper County Democrat (Missouri) also had fun, reporting that Don Dai “had purred the question” to the beautiful Quakeress.
The Birmingham News (Alabama) questioned whether the British cat would be strong enough to endure “the rough and tumble combat” with Yankee cats or if he would be able to avoid being crushed by a street car, and the Messenger-Inquirer (Kentucky) gave the story this headline: “More Idiotic Dealings by the Silly Rich.”
The feline wedding took place in the Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel, pictured here in 1907. Museum of the City of New York
A Brief History of the Plaza Hotel
The land bounded by Fifth and Sixth Avenues and 57th and 60th Streets was originally owned by the Corporation of New York (ie, the city itself). In 1854, the city subdivided this land into lots and began selling them off. The parcels transferred hands several times, but there was no serious attempt to develop the property until the 1880s.
In 1883, the property was acquired by James Campbell and John Duncan Phyfe, who proposed a nine-story apartment hotel for the site. Construction began in 1883, but there is no account of the building ever being completed.
Five years later, the New York Life Insurance Company acquired the property and hired McKim, Mead & White to complete the building as a hotel. The hotel had a fashionable address, albeit, the area was still quite remote in the late 19th century. The eight-story Renaissance-Revival building of brick and brownstone is pictured below.
The original hotel, labeled the Hotel Plaza on old maps, was described by the 1893 King’s Handbook of New York as “one of the most attractive public houses in the wide world.”
In 1902, Bernhard Beinecke and Harry S. Black purchased the hotel with plans of expanding it. Because the foundation could not support any additional stories, the men approached John Gates, one of the wealthiest men in the country at the time, to finance a new hotel.
Gates agreed to back the project with one caveat: Fred Sterry had to be the hotel’s managing director (yes, the Fred Sterry who allowed Pinky Panky Poo to stay at the new hotel in 1907).
Demolition of the old hotel began June 1905, with construction starting two months later. The new $12.5 million Plaza Hotel officially opened on October 1, 1907–Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt was reportedly the first guest to sign the register.
Five years later, a feline wedding took place in the Grand Ballroom at the luxury hotel.
Laborers working on the site in 1905 (this may have been the demolition phase). Museum of the City of New York
There were still a few mansions on Fifth Avenue when this photo of the Plaza Hotel was taken in 1923. Museum of the City of New York.
The 18-story Plaza Hotel at Fifth Avenue and Central Park South opened its doors on October 1, 1907.
One of our most popular CAT walking tour explores the cats who left their pawprints on the history of Old Brooklyn Heights.
Our tour guide Marie Carter spotted this cat in the Grace Court Church gardens while giving a recent Brooklyn Heights walking tour.
If you follow my Hatching Cat website, then you are no doubt a cat lover and possibly also someone who is interested in New York City history. So if you live in the New York City region or plan to visit sometime soon, you may be interested in seeing my cat tales come alive through my Cats About Town (CAT) historical walking tours of Brooklyn Heights and Manhattan.
We have just posted available tours for May through August, which include a few early-evening and Friday afternoon tours, plus a brand-new tour of the Lower East Side/Bowery. We also have two new tour guides: Jenny Pierson and Marie Carter.
Cats About Town Tours
Last summer, I partnered with Dan Rimada of Bodega Cats of New York to form a walking tour company for cat lovers. Within a few weeks, all of our tours had sold out!
Launching in August 2024, our first Cats About Town walking tour explored the catstory of Brooklyn Heights, uncovering the hidden stories of the legendary felines of America’s first suburban neighborhood. We have seen a few real cats on the Brooklyn tour, including a cat in the Grace Court Church gardens and a cat named Noir in a window on Willow Street.
Every guest of the Lower East Side/Bowery walking tour will get a neon cat-ear headband!
In December 2024, we began offering our second tour, which explores the postal, newspaper, prison, and City Hall cats that made history in the Financial District during the late 1800s and early 1900s.
Bowery Cat Crawl!
This year, I will be offering a new tour about the cats of the Bowery and the Lower East Side. There will be more than a dozen cat stories on this tour, all starting with the cats of McSorley’s Old Ale House.
Several LES/Bowery tours will take place from 5:30-7:00 p.m. in the summer months: every guest on these twilight walking tours will receive a cat-ear headband that lights up in neon colors!
Whether you’re a longtime New Yorker or a visitor to the city, the Cats About Town tour is an experience you won’t want to miss! For updates and more information, be sure to follow us on Instagram and visit our website by clicking the link below. Some tours are already sold out, so don’t wait to book a tour this spring or summer!
CAT Walking Tour Details
Ticket Prices: Adults $40, Seniors $30
Duration: About 2 hours
Distance: Approximately 1.5 miles (LES tour has an optional 2-mile tour)
Booking Information: Visit Cats About Town Tours for more details and to book your tour
First person to spot a live cat on every tour wins a ticket for a FREE future tour!
This vintage Angora, photographed in 1898, is not Tommy, but we can imagine that he or she is.
Mrs. Mary Hall lived in the large, 5-story brick tenement at 59 East 41st Street. Mrs. Anna Staubstaudt lived next door, in a 3-story brick building with stables at 57 East 41st Street.
Mrs. Hall had a large Angora cat named Tommy. Mrs. Staubstaudt had a male cat and female cat “of the plain backyard variety.” The three cats fought often, with the plain male cat, Benny, taking most of the hits and scratches from the Angora.
Tommy was a cat of remarkable beauty, but he also had strong lungs and fighting qualities. Mrs. Hall acquired the cat in 1887, and though he often wandered the neighborhood looking to stir things up, he always returned home. That is, until the summer of 1895.
On June 16, 1895, Tommy disappeared. Mrs. Hall searched all over the house for him. She also asked all the neighborhood boys to search for him on the streets.
With a long summer trip to her country home already planned, Mrs. Hall could do nothing but leave a couple of windows open so Tommy could get back inside. She also kept one door unlocked, and asked two friends to ship him to her country house as soon as he returned to the East 41st Street home.
For four months, Mrs. Hall waited to hear news of her cat back in the city. When she returned in mid-October, she learned that Mrs. Staubstadt had Tommy “imprisoned” in her house. Mrs. Staubstadt refused to give the cat back, and even had the gall to charge Mrs. Hall for boarding the cat for the four months that she was away, the woman alleged.
“Have you that woman’s cat?” Magistrate Brann asked the cat-napper.
“Yes, I have,” Mrs. Staubstaudt firmly replied, according to The New York Times.
Then the judge made the mistake of asking her why she had not returned the cat to Mrs. Hall.
“This cat came to my house almost starved ten days after Mrs. Hall went to the country. The cat never had enough to eat.”
“What!?” shrieked Mrs. Hall. “How dare you! You stole that cat. You were always jealous of my cat.”
“I took your cat in and fed him as an act of charity, and he repaid it by clawing the fur of my dear Benny. If you think so much of Tommy, why don’t you pay for his board?”
For the next few minutes, the two women argued back and forth until Magistrate Brann jumped out of his seat and cried, “Stop!”
He told Mrs. Staubstaudt to return the cat to Mrs. Hall, but her attorney, John H. Whitney, protested. “This woman has a lien on the cat for board, the same as in the case of a stray horse picked up and boarded,” the lawyer said.
“Pshaw! Pshaw!” the magistrate retorted. “If you want to collect for the board of this cat, bring action in the civil court. Go home and get your cat, Mrs. Hall,” he said.
Then addressing Mrs. Staubstaudt, he said, “You return this woman’s cat. You have no right to it.” Cat case dismissed.
A Brief History of Park and 41st Street
The Quackinbush Farm is noted west of the Eastern Post Road on the John Randel Farm map, 1818-1820.
The apartment buildings where Mrs. Hall and Mrs. Staubstaudt lived on East 41st Street occupied the northern edge of the former 19th-century farm of James Quackinbush (aka Jacobus Quackenbos) in the Murray Hill neighborhood.
Born in 1758, James Quackinbush grew up in Tappan, New York, and served as a sergeant during the Revolutionary War. Immediately following the war, he married Leah (Lea) Demarest and got into the family business. James owned and operated a dry goods store on William Street, and he and his growing family lived in lower Manhattan.
On August 5, 1803, James acquired the title for a 15-acre farm from Thomas Cooper, Daniel McCormick, and Charles Smith for $12,700. The farm was bounded by today’s Lexington and Madison Avenues, 38th Street and 41st Street.
The Quackinbush homestead was near the intersection of present-day Park Avenue and 40th Street. Their nearest neighbor was Robert Murray, whose country seat at what he called Inclenberg (Fire Beacon Hill) was at Park Avenue and 36th Street.
Inclenberg (Murray Hill) at about Park Avenue and 37th Street. Surrounded by wide lawns and extensive gardens, and approached by a tree-lined avenue from the Eastern Post Road, the Murray’s Colonial-style home had a magnificent view of Kips Bay and the East River. The land remained a farm until the house burned down in 1835. NYPL Digital Collections
By the time James purchased the farm, the family had 10 children: 8 boys and 2 girls ranging in age from 19 to 3. The younger sons–Benjamin, Andrew, and Abraham–enjoyed digging for potatoes on their farm, right about where Grand Central Station is today. Sadly, two years after they moved to the farm, Leah Quackinbush passed away at the young age of 41.
Beginning in 1832, the construction of the New York and Harlem Railroad streetcar line along Fourth Avenue (Park Avenue) accelerated development of Murray Hill. Although Fourth Avenue north of 34th Street was still an unpaved road leading through farmland and shantytowns, it began to open up northward. By 1848, it had opened all the way through the Murray’s land to 38th Street.
Sometime after Leah passed away, James married Margaret Fake (they did not have any children). Despite all the development taking place around his farm, James continued to live at his Murray Hill home until his death on January 17, 1842.
Following his passing, the farm was divided into lots and sold at $150 per lot. New Yorkers were still not quite ready to head so far north, so sales were slow at first.
Shortly after James passed away, the family home burned down. But by 1857, as shown on this map at left, much of the old Quackinbush farm was still undeveloped.
The apartment buildings on East 41st Street where the two feuding cat ladies were living in 1895 had not yet been built either, although the Quackinbush home had been replaced by the large stables of the Madison Avenue Stage Line. This popular stage line ran between the South Ferry and 42nd Street.
In 1884, the Murray Hill Hotel was built on Fourth (Park) Avenue, right atop the site of the stage line stables and former Quackinbush homestead between 40th and 41st Street.
The apartments on East 41st Street where the cat ladies lived can been seen on the far right of this vintage image of the Murray Hill Hotel.
Less than 20 years later, the Murray Hill Hotel had competition from the much taller Hotel Belmont, which was constructed on Park Avenue between 41st Street and 42nd Street. It was one of the city’s tallest hotels at 23 stories.
The circa 1905 Hotel Belmont, Park Avenue between 41st Street and 42nd Street, towered over the Murray Hill Hotel. NYPL Digital Collections
On August 30, 1930, the newspapers reported that the city’s tallest office building–60 stories–would replace the Hotel Belmont. Although demolition began in 1931, the hotel sat vacant until 1934, when it was replaced by the Airlines Terminal building.
The older and shorter Murray Hill Hotel was razed in 1947 to make way for another modern office building. More than 100 people who had been living in the old hotel were forcefully evicted from the building in April 1947.
Aerial view of the former Quackinbush Farm, 2025. Google Earth.
