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.

Hart Street Bushwick crazy cat story

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.

Army man with sabre
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, Bushwick
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.

Don Dai, an English silver chinchilla, was the groom at the feline wedding at the Plaza 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. Patrick Campbell and 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

Cartoon of the Plaza Hotel feline wedding, 1912

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.

Don Dai, prize-winning cat
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
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
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.

Hotel Plaza, Fifth Avenue and 59th Street
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
Plaza Hotel, 1923
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.
Plaza Hotel, New York
The 18-story Plaza Hotel at Fifth Avenue and Central Park South opened its doors on October 1, 1907.

Cats About Town Walking Tours for NYC Cat Lovers
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.
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!
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.

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!

  • 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.

Mrs. Hall filed a criminal lawsuit against her neighbor to get the cat back. The hearing took place at the Yorkville Police Court before Magistrate Henry A. Brann.

“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

John Randel Farm Map
Third Avenue, East 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.

Murray Hill, Inclenberg
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.
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 Hotel Belmont, Park Avenue between 41st Street and 42nd Street, towered over the Murray Hill Hotel.
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.

In March 1934, the newly-formed New York City Housing Authority kicked off its citywide slum clearance campaign. Buildings on Cherry, Madison, Roosevelt, Oak Street, and other old streets in the Two Bridges neighborhood were razed over the years to make way for large public housing developments.

The old police station of the Third Precinct at 9 Oak Street was just about the last building to go. In fact, it took 15 years to complete the slum clearance project and raze this building.

On August 4, 1948, the 18 men and cat of the Oak Street Police Station turned out for the last time. As soon as they walked from the circa 1870 police station, the wreckers moved in to take it down. The old station would be the last of the buildings demolished to make way for the Alfred E. Smith Houses.

After receiving their orders to report from now on to the Old Slip Police Station near the South Street Ferry, the officers and their green-eyed cat, Kilroy, left the squad room and their old stomping grounds forever. Sergeant Patrick Sullivan held Kilroy in his arms as they departed.

“I know what the bum would say if he could talk,” Sullivan told a reporter. He’d say, ‘why do we have to get out so’s a lot of citizens can move in here? There’s too many citizens living around here as it is.’ Yes, sir, I know how he feels.”

Hopefully, Sergeant Sullivan took Kilroy to the Old Slip Station. The press did not do any follow-up stories on the police and their cat.

Inspector John J. Mooney, Lieutenant Connor, and the men of the 3rd Precinct, Oak Street Station, August 4, 1948. New York Daily News
Inspector John J. Mooney, Lieutenant Connor, and the men of the 3rd Precinct, Oak Street Station, August 4, 1948. New York Daily News
The 3rd Precinct police station at 9-11 Oak Street in 1939, 10 years before the structure was demolished.
The 3rd Precinct police station at 9-11 Oak Street in 1939, 10 years before the structure was demolished. 1939 NYC tax photo
The old Oak Street station house 1949
The Oak Street police station stands alone in 1949. NY Daily News photo

Oak Street and the History of Colored School No. 4

Captain Robert O. Webb

Prior to moving into a new police station at 9 Oak Street in 1870 under the command of Captain Robert O. Webb, the police of the Fourth Ward (aka Bloody Fourth Ward) occupied an old and dilapidated former schoolhouse. This former schoolhouse was located in a “dark and gloomy” rear lot behind Nos. 9 and 11 Oak Street (see 1855 map below).

The school, Ward School No. 9 of the Fourth Ward, had about six teachers and 93 students when the city’s Public School Society sold the property to the city for $8000 in 1849. The police moved into the rear building, and the students moved out to a new school that was two miles away on West 17th Street in the Chelsea neighborhood.

Not only were residents upset that the children would have to walk two miles to their new school, but the legality of establishing the new school on West 17th was hotly contested; the Public School Society was prohibited, by law, to construct any new school without the consent of the Board of Education. The school on West 17th was established without such consent. (The Public School Society argued that they had purchased the land for the new school several years before the new law went into effect, and therefore, had every right to construct the new school on its land.)

Oak Street Police Station, 19th century map
The Oak Street Police Station is noted on this 1855 map. At this time, the station was housed in a former school building in a rear lot. All of these streets were cleared out in the late 1940s.

From 1849 to 1853, the new school at 98 West 17th Street (renumbered 128 in 1868) was Primary School Nos. 27 and 28 for white students. In 1860, it was decided to refit the school exclusively for African American students. The school was renamed Colored School No. 7, and it accompanied both primary and grammar school students. The name was changed to Colored School No. 4 in 1866. In 1884 the school became Grammar School No. 81 when the Board of Education dropped the term “Colored” from the official names of its 7 public schools for Black students.

In 1853, the Board of Education realized it would need to re-rent one of its old buildings on Oak Street to accommodate the increasing number of children in the Fourth Ward. Ward School No. 25 at 13 Oak Street accommodated about 290 children: the ground floor was a boys’ primary school (the boys then went on to Boys’ Grammar School on James Street); the second floor was the girls’ primary school; and the top floor was the Girls’ Grammar School.

The old Colored School No. 4 at 128 West 17th Street in 1940 (NYC tax photo).
The old Colored School No. 4 at 128 West 17th Street in 1940 (NYC tax photo).

As an interesting aside, in 1860, several teachers in the Fourth Ward were fired for refusing to read from the Bible in their classes. There was a rule at that time, under the Board of Education, that any teacher who did not read the Scriptures in the schools should no longer be a teacher. During a board meeting in May 1960, members of the board and the audience laughed when it was announced that the teachers had been fired for standing their ground.

In 1873, New York State passed a law prohibiting school officials from denying children access to any public school “on account of race or color.” But the law was not uniformly enforced throughout the city or state, and opinions varied on whether Black and white students should even share schools.

By 1883, the city had only 2 colored schools: No. 3 in Williamsburgh, Brooklyn, and No. 4. Colored School No. 4 was renamed Ward School No. 81 in 1894 under the supervision of the Board of Education, although it continued to exclusively serve Black students.

The Board of Education was reportedly none to pleased with the 1873 legislation. According to news reports, the board had wanted “to crowd the colored schools down, and drive them out of existence.” Additionally, because the board was so adverse to the ruling, they chose to withhold pay from the city’s 20 Black teachers through the summer months; the 3,000 white teachers all received pay advances for the summer).

The West 17th Street School closed for good in 1884. Several organizations rented the building from the city, and it also served as a section house for the Department of Sanitation for many years. The vacant building is now undergoing steps to become a NYC landmarked building.

Governor Alfred E. Smith Houses
This 1951 aerial view of the Two Bridges section of the Lower Easy Side shows the construction of the Governor Alfred E. Smith Houses between Madison (top of construction site), Catherine (right), and South streets (bottom). The Brooklyn Bridge crossing the East River can be seen in the foreground; the arch and colonnade for the Manhattan Bridge can be seen in the top right-center of the photo.