Clip Art Designs, Vector Clip Art Graghic: Free Vintage Animal Graphic:  Black and White Illustration of 3 Sea Lions

On August 12, 1897, three sea lions escaped from their enclosure at Starin’s Glen Island summer resort on the Long Island Sound. One day later, a 13-year old boy named Willie Grogan was swimming in the East River off East 84th Street when he saw what he thought was a seven-foot sea serpent–or worse–opposite East River Park (present-day Carl Schurz Park).

New York Times, August 15, 1897
Sea Lion Escape from Glen Island
New York Times, August 15, 1897

According to The New York Times, Willie had just surfaced from a dive when he heard what sounded like a human cough. It was dusk, so he couldn’t see that well. He wasn’t supposed to be swimming there at that time, so he feared that a police officer had spotted him from the pier.

At first, Willie thought the cough was coming from a bald man with a long, droopy mustache. Thinking it was perhaps a local German saloon keeper taking a night swim, the boy yelled out, “Hello Dutchy!” The response was another cough.

Forgetting all of his fears of getting caught by the police, the young boy started to scream as he swam back toward the pier. All he could think of were sea serpents, sharks, and Jonah the whale.

East River Park, now Carl Schurz Park
The land bounded by East 84th Street, East End Avenue and East 89th Street–once a pleasure garden owned by Charles Sulzer–was acquired by the city in 1876 and became known as East River Park. At the northern tip of the park is Gracie Mansion, built in 1799 for shipping magnate Archibald Gracie. It was here that Willie spotted the sea lion. Photo by Jacob Riis; Museum of the City of New York Collections

As Willie continued to yell and point at the monster, the park began to fill with people who wanted to get a glimpse of the beast. The adults in the crowd correctly surmised that the sea serpent was actually one of three sea lions that had escaped from Glen Island in New Rochelle a day earlier.

The sea lion put on a wonderful display for the crowd, alternately diving into the water and leaping high in the air. The sea lion frolicked with the tug boats and put on a show for a crowd of people on an excursion steamer.

Sam McGingle and Pop Farrell got into a small rowboat and tried to capture the sea lion. They knew that John H. Starin, the owner of the pleasure park on Glen Island, was offering a $500 reward for the sea lion’s safe return.

East River Park, 1898 Bromley map
The East River Park, 1898 Bromley map. Gracie Mansion is noted in yellow. New York Public Library Digital Collections

Their boat could only hold four people, so their plan was to lasso the sea lion and tow it back to shore. Despite the large reward, the men didn’t sound all that displeased when they returned shortly thereafter to announce that the sea lion had disappeared before they could reach it.

The next day, many young boys “hunted” for the sea lion all along the East River from 80th Street to the Astoria Ferry. Armed with hooks, small brass canons, and numerous other implements unsuitable for catching a sea lion, they searched in vain for the elusive sea creature.

Alexander Barnes, a seasoned seaman from a lumber ship called the Alice Furman, organized a search party with plans to harpoon the sea lion in the flipper. Other men hunted on the piers and along the seawall around East River Park armed with nets, clubs, and even a small boat cannon.

Although the sea lion was able to elude the East River hunters, sadly, it was reportedly killed in the Hackensack River a few days later.

According to the Passaic Daily News, the sea lion was spotted near Snake Hill (aka Laurel Hill) in the Meadowlands section of Secaucus. Fisherman Dick Eaton and William O’Brien shot the poor creature after finding it asleep on the river. The poor thing never had a chance.

The Sea Lions Escape Glen Island

The escaped sea lion was one of 16 kept in a 100×200 foot elliptical-shaped fish pond near a bridge leading to the park’s zoological gardens. Around the man-made pond was a donkey drive, where children in little carts were pulled by donkeys.

A red rail fence kept the public off the drive. A six-foot-high wire fence at the edge of the pond separated the waters from the donkey drive and was also meant to prevent the sea lions from getting out.

According to a press agent for the park, the 16 sea lions had arrived by boat from Jersey City on August 12. They were originally from Seal Rock near San Francisco, having traveled in tanks by rail from California to New York.

Sea Lion Hunt, Glen Island
The World, August 12, 1897
Search for sea lions off Glen Island. The World, August 12, 1897

On the first evening of their arrival, three of the sea lions escaped. They reportedly flopped across the dry land to another pond, and then made their way to the Long Island Sound. At the time, no one could figure out how the sea lions made their way over the six-foot fence.

Several men from the park, including Walter Bannister, superintendent of the zoo, and L.M. McCormick, curator of the park’s museum, set out in boats with nets, blankets, and poles. All they could do was watch as the three sea creatures disappeared into the Long Island Sound.

In addition to the poor sea lion that made it to the Hackensack River, one was reportedly shot and killed soon after the escape. The other sea lion was captured by way of lasso at Larchmont, just north of New Rochelle.

A week after the great sea lion hunt, a fatal tragedy led to the discovery of a small opening in the fence. It was perhaps through this hole that the three adventurous sea lions escaped.

Brooklyn Standard Union, August 23, 1897
Sea Lion Eats Pug at Glen Island
Brooklyn Standard Union, August 23, 1897

According to the Brooklyn Standard Union, Mrs. James Crossman smuggled her pet pug, Bijou, onto Glen Island on August 21. The dog went undetected under her dress until Mrs. Crossman placed him on the ground near the donkey drive. The dog scampered under the rail fence and entered the drive, where it was in danger of getting trampled by a donkey.

One of the young boys in a donkey cart jumped out and tried to catch the dog. Bijou ran along the fence until he reached the opening. He passed through the hole, and landed in the pond, where the 13 remaining sea lions were basking in the sun on a raft.

The donkey drive at Starin's Glen Island.
The donkey drive at Starin’s Glen Island. To the right is the pond where the sea lions lived. A hole in the fence allowed three sea lions to escape and a little dog to lose his life.

It was mealtime. The sea lions were hungry. You can guess what happened next, so I won’t fill in the gory details.

According to Walter Bannister, the island had several valuable dogs, but they were all smart enough to stay away from the sea lions. Mrs. Crossman said she would file a lawsuit against the park to recover the value of the dog. Hopefully she never tried smuggling another dog into the park again.

A Brief History of Glen Island

Starin's Glen Island
Glen Island, 1881 postcard.

Starin’s Glen Island was a summer resort developed by U.S. Congressman John Henry Starin (1877-1881) in the late 1800s. Starin was a shipping magnate who owned a transportation company that included passenger excursion steamboats and almost every tugboat operating in New York Harbor. He developed the island as a grand destination for his excursion boats.

Starin's Glen Island

Although now one island, Glen Island was originally one large main island surrounded by several smaller nearby islands, rocky outcroppings, low-lying flats, and salt marshes. The first known inhabitants were the Siwanoys, whose largest village in 1640 was Poningo, located near modern-day Rye, New York.

In 1690, the island was the site of a farm owned by Jacob Theroulde, a refugee Huguenot from La Rochelle, France, who was one of the earliest settlers of New Rochelle. He sold the land to Johannes Berhuyt in 1701, who in turn gave the island to his son, Andre, in 1760.

Andre passed the island to his brother-in-law, George Cromwell, a loyalist whose active participation in events leading up to the American Revolution resulted in confiscation. In 1784, the island was sold by the Commissioners of Forfeitures.

John Henry Starin
Glen Island
John Henry Starin

Over the next 100 years, the island passed through several hands. At one time it was called Wooley’s Island for owner Samuel Wooley; it was later named Locust Island under the ownership of Newbury Davenport.

In 1847, Lewis Augustus DePau purchased the island and built a grand mansion surrounded by fish ponds, bathing facilities, and a bowling alley. He used the island for entertaining the rich and famous.

In 1879, Starin purchased the island for use as a country residence. A few years later, he bought four smaller surrounding islands—Glenwood, Island Wild, Beach Lawn, and Little Germany—which he incorporated into an extravagant summer resort and theme park he named Glen Island.

The enormous park, referred to as “America’s Pleasure Grounds,” was reportedly the first theme park in the country.

Circa 1880 map of Starin's Glen Island
Circa 1880 map showing the five islands of Starin’s Glen Island. The fish pond and donkey drive are on the western end of the main island.

A total of 102 acres, the five islands were connected by red-roofed footbridges. Each island featured one of five cultures of the western world, with attractions including a Chinese pagoda, Dutch mill, and German castle (I wonder if Walt Disney got his idea for Epcot from Glen Island?).

There were also bathing beaches, music bandstands, dance pavilions, bridle paths, a miniature steam train, a theater, an aviary, and a zoo that featured monkeys, lions, camels, polar bears, elephants, and trained seals.

Starin's' Glen Island
Steamboats arrived hourly from Starin’s Dock at the foot of Cortlandt Street in Manhattan.

The park opened to the general public in 1881, attracting thousands of people each day via steamboats originating at Starin’s Dock on Cortlandt Street, or by a chain ferry and trolley cars from nearby Neptune Island. By 1887, attendance had topped one million people.

Glen Island Hotel, Cortlandt Street
The Glen Island Hotel at 88-90 Cortlandt Street, owned and operated by August Quick, was opposite the Pennsylvania ferry and Starin’s Dock, from where steamboats to Glen Island departed daily in the summer months.

In 1904, New York’s worst maritime disaster claimed nearly 1,000 lives when the General Slocum excursion boat caught fire on the East River. Although the steamboat was not heading toward Glen Island, many people lost their appetite for taking excursion trips following the disaster. Attendance at Glen Island began to steadily drop.

Castle at Glen Island, Kleine Deutschland
One of the islands was called Kleine Deutschland (Little Germany), which featured a castle designed to look like a German fortress. Here, singing waiters in lederhosen served lager beer from New Rochelle. Although this castle is no longer in use, it still stands (albeit, it was damaged in a few small fires in the 1980s).

John Starin died in March 1909. On January 29, 1910, The New Rochelle Pioneer reported that the Starin family had sold Glen Island to Ignatz Roth, a woolen importer, for $600,000. Over the next ten years, the resort changed hands a few times, going from one corporation to another as it gradually declined from glory days to decay.

In 1924, the Westchester County Parks Commission purchased the group of connected islands to add to its County Park System. Through extensive landfilling, all five islands were joined together to form one large island. A drawbridge was also constructed so that the island would have a permanent link to the mainland for easy public access.

Today, Glen Island Park is the second most widely used park in the County Parks system (after Rye Playland). The park offers picnic pavilions, boat launching, pathways, a catering hall, and a restaurant. Old cannons, sculptures, and several structures still remain from the days of John Starin’s resort. However, there are no longer sea lions at the park.

Glen Island Park
Glen Island Park

If you enjoyed this story, you may enjoy reading about the sea lions and penguins who swam in the fountain at Rockefeller Center.

David D. Bartow and Moses the cat at their home on Herriman Avenue in 1904. Photo by William E. Case
This is not the cat that cried murder, but he very well could be related. This is David D. Bartow and Moses the cat at their home on Herriman Avenue in 1904. Photo by William E. Case, Queens Public Library Digital Archives.

“Hurry up! There is murder at Herriman Avenue, Jamaica. The telephone receiver is off the hook and I can hear terrible screams and groans. Send the police department down quick.”

That was the breathless message that Lieutenant Louis Keppel of the Jamaica police precinct received shortly after midnight exactly one hundred years ago, on July 31, 1921. The voice was coming from a frantic telephone operator.

The alarms bells for the reserves clanged as the lieutenant pushed the button to summon additional help. Half a dozen police officers rushed to the station headquarters in the old Jamaica Town Hall building and buckled on their revolver belts.

The Jamaica police headquarters was located in the old Jamaica Town Hall building
The Jamaica police headquarters was located in the old Jamaica Town Hall building, just two blocks from the scene of the crime on the corner of Fulton Street and Flushing Avenue (now Parsons Boulevard and Jamaica Avenue).

Some distance away, the men could hear fearful crying, alternated by what sounded like stifled groans. As they formed a cordon around the house, they drew their revolvers.

They hammered on the door and a second later could hear a scuffling of feet while the horrible shrieking increased. “I hear feet,” one policeman said. “Watch out, he may run through the rear.”

With increasing impatience, they knocked on the door a few times. Finally, a man in pajamas opened the door. Upon seeing the uniformed force outside his door, he nearly collapsed.

While one of the police officers held the man, another walked into the parlor, from where the sounds appeared to be coming. Seeing a set of gleaming eyes in the corner of the room, he flashed his light in that direction.

There on a small telephone table was a cat wailing the human-like cries. The receiver was off the hook.

“And to think,” said the telephone operator, “that I might have been a heroine.”

A Brief History of Herriman Avenue

Herriman Avenue (now 161st Street) is in the center of this 1873 Beers map of Jamaica Village, Queens.
Herriman Avenue is in the top left of this 1873 Beers map of Jamaica Village, Queens. The old town hall building, which also served as the police station, is the black building on the corner of Fulton Street (now Jamaica Avenue) and Flushing Avenue (now Parsons Boulevard). The final Herriman family home and what was called Herriman’s Brick Block are circled in red.

Herriman Avenue (now 161st Street) was named for James Herriman, who purchased a 40-acre farm on the north side of Fulton Street (Jamaica Avenue), just east of North Washington Street (now 160th Street) in 1792. Originally called Herriman’s Lane, the road led from Fulton Street to Herriman’s barn and then up the hill to the farm and beautiful woodland on the hill.

The name of the lane was changed to Herriman Avenue after it was opened and widened in 1854-55. During this time, Herriman Avenue was the most important business street in the village of Jamaica, and many prominent families lived on the avenue.

One of the important buildings constructed on Herriman Avenue was the public school, which was built in 1854 (noted on the map above and pictured below). This building later served as Fraternity Hall, aka Old Fellows Hall. It was demolished in the early 1900s.

Old public school on Herriman Avenue
The old public school was constructed on Herriman Avenue in 1854.

In 1858-59, a town hall was erected on Herriman avenue, just north of Fulton Street. This was a wooden structure, two stories high, with a basement housing five cells and a police court room. The first floor was fitted up for town meetings and public business. The second floor was used for justices’ courts.

The old town hall was sold to John H. Brinkerhoff in 1870. He converted the building into private dwellings.

In 1870, a new town hall was constructed on the corner of Fulton Street and Flushing Avenue (now Parsons Boulevard). This building served as the civic center for all villages within what was then the Town of Jamaica. 

After Queens County was consolidated into Greater New York City in 1898, the building also housed the 58th Police Precinct, a traffic court, and a small claims court. During this time, the Jamaica police station covered 35 square miles. (Consider that all of Manhattan is 22 square miles.)

Due to the high cost of maintaining the massive Victorian structure, it was demolished in 1941.

Jamaica Village Town Hall
The Old Jamaica Town Hall at what was then Fulton Street and Flushing Avenue. Today this is the site of a McDonald’s restaurant.

The Herriman Family

Very little has been written about James Herriman, but the family’s history goes back to 1620, when John Harriman reportedly landed at Plymouth Rock. In 1730, John Harriman’s grandson, Stephen, moved to Jamaica and changed his last name to Herriman. Stephen was the father of James Herriman, who was born in 1761.

James and his wife Magdalene had five children: Martha, James, Margaret, Stephen, and John. James died in 1801 at the age of 40 from yellow fever; his wife died in 1841.

Of the five Herriman children, only James II, born in 1790, stayed on the family farm in Jamaica. He and his wife had three sons (Charles, Joseph, and James Augustus) and two daughters (Catherine and Mary).

Another look at Herriman Street on this 1901 map. New York Public Library Digital Collections

According to an 1850 census report, James reportedly grew wheat, rye, and corn on the farm. The Herrimans also owned two horses, two cows, and four pigs. In later years, the family sold off a large portion of the farm for building lots.

In addition to the farm, James also owned a dry goods and grocery store in a three-story brick building on the northwest corner of present-day Jamaica Avenue and 161st Street. (The old family barn was behind the store.) He ran the store with his brother-in-law and his neighbor Richard Brush; in 1836, his son James Augustus joined the business.

During the Civil War years, when James Augustus was serving as a general with the 87th Brigade of the New York Volunteers, Charles Herriman took over the business. James Augustus passed away in 1875 following a long illness.

The north side of Jamaica Avenue, from 160th to 162nd Street.
The north side of Jamaica Avenue, from 160th to 162nd Street, around 1900. New York Public Library Digital Collections

In the photo above, the frame store on the left (corner of 160th Street and Jamaica Avenue) was owned by Richard Brush; his residence was to the right of that. James Herriman owned the remaining buildings on the block, including the store on the corner of 161st Street, his own residence to the left of the store, and the large buildings in the center, one of which was Mr. Watrons’ drugstore.

In addition to the block on the northern side of the street, James Herriman also owned ten acres of land on the south side of Fulton Street, where he built a block of six brick, three-story and basement houses. Over the years, this block of buildings became known as Herriman’s Brick Block. The Herrimans eventually lived in one of the large houses in the center of the block–the address was 350 Fulton Street.

Jamaica to have public library, 1904

When James died in 1863, Charles sold the family store and got a job in Manhattan as a bookkeeper. Charles died in the Herriman family home on Fulton Street in October 1901 at the age of 71.

At the time of Charles’ death, only his sister, Catherine, the widow of George N. Codwise, was still alive. When she died in 1904, the Herriman estate was supposed to be bequeathed to the trustees of a new public library for the village of Jamaica called the Herriman Library.

According to the will of James Augustus, the library was to be housed in the stately Herriman family home on Fulton Street.

Jamaica lots for sale, Herriman estate, 1904

Unfortunately, the will was contested by several heirs (some distant cousins), and the library deal free through. The heirs sold the estate in a partition sale August 1904. James Augustus had made his living in real estate, so the property holdings were quite extensive, and extended beyond the village proper.

In 1919, many of the old street names in Jamaica, including Herriman Avenue, were changed to numbered avenues and streets; however, it would be a few more years before newspapers stopped referring to the old street names.

If you enjoyed this story, you may enjoy reading about Tipsey, a cat that helped solve a murder mystery in 1912.

Jamaica Avenue at 161st Street
The Herrimans owned a block of six, three-story brick houses on the south side of Fulton Street (Jamaica Avenue) at 161st Street, where the Burlington Coat Factory and other shops exist today. The Herriman home at 350 Fulton Street was among these houses.

P.T. Barnum Cherry-Colored Cat
The $300, genuine cherry-colored cat from Connecticut.

“There is a sucker born every minute.” Although there is no evidence that the great showman and circus legend actually said this famous quote, P.T. Barnum has always been closely associated with it. There are many stories behind the quote, including many sources that suggest it arose from the great Cardiff Giant hoax, in which a Syracuse banker named David Hannum exhibited a fake petrified man in 1869. But my favorite story is that of the cherry-colored cat.

In 1927, Gene Byrnes created a comic based on the cherry-colored cat prank.
In 1927, Gene Byrnes created a comic based on the cherry-colored cat prank.

Barnum was always on the lookout for strange and sensational attractions for his American Museum on the corner of Broadway and Ann Street. As one version of the cat story goes (there are several versions of the tale), the owner of the cherry-colored cat used the phrase to describe P.T. Barnum.

According to this tale, one day Barnum received a letter from a Connecticut farmer who claimed to possess a genuine cherry-colored cat. The farmer asked Barnum if he would be interested in purchasing the cat, explaining that his cat would beat any of the other odd critters Barnum had on display at his museum.

Barnum contacted the farmer and said he’d gladly purchase the cat for his museum if the cat were truly cherry-colored. The farm agreed to ship the cat to Barnum for $300 (other articles say Barnum paid $25, $50, or $200.)

A few days later a crate arrived at the museum. When Barnum opened it, he found a an ordinary-looking jet-black cat inside. In response to Barnum’s angry letter, the farmer responded with a note: Dear Mr. Barnum, did you never see a black cherry? We have loads of them born in Connecticut. There’s a sucker born every minute.” 

Cherry-Colored Cat Ad, 1871
In 1871, Foster Brothers used a Barnum advertising tactic to advertise its store on Columbia Street.

Another version told by a Yale professor by the name of William Lyon Phelps suggests that Barnum may have borrowed local cats whenever he took his circus on the road.

According to Phelps, who shared his story with a reporter for the Tampa Times in 1939, he once knew a black cat that belonged to a Mrs. Sanford at York and Chapel Streets in New Haven, Connecticut. The day before Barnum’s circus reached town, the cat disappeared. Three days after the circus left, the cat was returned to his house with a card that read, “With Mr. Barnum’s compliments.”

And one more version of this tale, by Henry Collins Brown, suggests that as soon as Barnum saw that he had been fooled, he uttered the phrase, “There is a sucker born every minute.”

Whichever story is correct, there is a chance that the cat had something to do with the famous sucker quote.

In his book “From Alley Pond to Rockefeller Center,” Brown notes that Barnum rightly concluded that he wasn’t the only sucker in New York; there must be many of them. So, he promptly covered every vacant fence, wall, and window he could find with large posters proclaiming the amazing discovery he had made: a genuine, cherry-colored cat from Connecticut.

Customers got a kick out of the hoax; they knew Barnum had pulled a prank on them, but they kept it a secret and encouraged friends and family to go see the cherry-colored cat. Now, the problem was getting all these crowds of people out of the museum to make room for new paying customers.

From Alley Pond to Rockefeller Center
Cherry-Colored Cat

According to Brown, Barnum instructed one of his carpenters to turn an unused door exiting onto Ann Street into an exit door for customers. He then put up a sign with a hand leading to the door that said, “This Way to the Egress.”

No one had ever heard of an egress before, so they thought it was just another strange exhibit. As they opened the door and stepped onto Ann Street, they realized they had been suckered once again.

This Way to the Egress Barnum Linoleum relief print | Etsy
An immigrant worker tends to her cow at the Johannes Sprong-Whitehead Duryea homestead on Fresh Meadow Road, Flushing, Queens. From New York Sketches, Jesse Lynch Williams, 1902.
An immigrant worker tends to her cow at the Johannes Sprong-Whitehead Duryea homestead on Fresh Meadow Road, Flushing, Queens. Several chickens are also running in the yard. From New York Sketches, Jesse Lynch Williams, 1902.

As soon as you have ridden, or walked—it is better to walk if there is plenty of time—beyond the fine elms of the ancient Flushing streets, you will be in as peaceful looking farming country as can be found anywhere. But the interesting thing about it is that here are seen not merely a few incongruous green patches that happen to be left between rapidly devouring suburban towns—like the fields near Woodside where the German women work—out here one rides through acre after acre of it, farm after farm, mile after mile, up hill, down hill, corn-fields, wheat-fields, stone fences, rail fences, no fences, and never a town in sight, much less anything to suggest the city.—Jesse Lynch Williams, 1902

In the early 1900s, when the 250-year-old Sprong-Duryea house was already considered a decaying relic, Flushing was still flush, so to speak, with farmlands and livestock. Most farmers kept their chickens and cows outside in barns and pens. But the cow and chickens at the Sprong-Duryea homestead lived in a stable in the former drawing room, and in coops set up in the bedrooms of the old house.

The cow is led into a "stable" that was once the drawing room on the east end of the Sprong-Duryea house in Flushing.
The cow is led into a “stable” that was once the drawing room on the east end of the Sprong-Duryea house in Flushing.

Located near the intersection of present-day Pidgeon Meadow Road and 168th Street, the old stone house was constructed in 1662 by Johannes Sprong (aka Johannis Sprungh), who came to New Amsterdam in 1660 when he was about 20 years old. One source claims Johannes came from the Town of Bonn, Drenthe, in northern Holland. The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, however, states he was from Barton, England.

In either case, the young man was an enterprising pioneer who had ideas of founding a homestead far away from any type of civilization. He reportedly obtained permission from the colonial government to chose a tract of wild land southeast of the newly established village of Flushing for his homestead. There, on about 100 acres of prime rolling land, he lived and traded with the Matinecock Native Americans.

The Sprong-Druyea house was right about where the red box is on this 1908 map. By the time this map was created, the property had been acquired by the Flushing Cemetery and the home was on its way to being demolished. New York Public Library Digital Collections
The Sprong-Druyea house was right about where the red box is on this 1908 map. By the time this map was created, the property had been acquired by the Flushing Cemetery and the home was on its way to being demolished. New York Public Library Digital Collections

Finding an abundance of large stones on the land, Johannes built his homestead after the style of an English or Irish cottage. The walls were two feet thick of solid masonry, the small windows were set deep with broad sills and sashes that opened backward and forward on hinges, and oaken shutters could be barred from the inside. The home had 12 rooms, including several bedrooms and a kitchen with a large fireplace and bake oven.  

The Sprong-Duryea house, sometime before it was torn down around 1905. Queens Historical Society
The Sprong-Duryea house, sometime before it was torn down around 1906. Queens Historical Society

Now that he had a homestead, Johannes set out to fill all those rooms with children. He and his wife, Anna Sodelaers of Bergen, Norway, had 10 children. One of their daughters, Annetje, married Simon Duryea in 1715. Members of the Sprong and and Duryea families would occupy the house for the next 200 years.

The Revolutionary War Period

During the Revolution, the old stone house was occupied as a fort for nearby residents. A cannon was reportedly mounted in the attic and a port hole was cut through the wall for the large gun. At one point during the war, an iron cannonball about the size of a croquet ball became imbedded in the walls.

At this time, Ida Sprong was living in the house with her family. Her husband (unknown name) was fighting with the Continental Army, so she was left alone to defend her home and family.

When the parties of marauding British became too large for her to cope with successfully by force, she pretended to side with them by sharing the stores of her household. She also allowed the Hessian officers to use the home as their headquarters while the British remained in Queens, from Whitestone to Jamaica.

One odd animal story from this time is about a Flushing farmer whose pig went missing from the pen one night. The farmer’s house was near the Hessian headquarters at the Sprong house, so he suspected the soldiers took the pig.

The farmer summoned some of his neighbors and they went into the house in search of the pig. They found the pig in bed with a solider, who told them he never dreamed anyone would come looking for the pig in his bed.

American Loyalists and British soldiers took part in many fox hunts throughout the southeastern Bronx during colonial days.
During the Revolution, American Loyalists and British soldiers took part in many fox hunts throughout Queens (notably the Hempstead Plains of Long Island) and the Bronx.

Sometime just prior to the Revolutionary War, Jacob Suydam operated a grist mill near Kissena Lake, not far from the Druyea homestead. Following his death in 1778, his son-in-law, Joseph Totten, took over the mill.

In 1803, Aaron Duryea purchased the land, which included Kissena Lake and the mill, from Joseph Totten. It was Whitehead Duryea, a son of Aaron, who was the last of the descendants to live in the old Sprong house.

Fifty years later, in 1853, the Flushing Cemetery was founded on the 20-acre farm of John Purchase, which was adjacent to the Sprong-Duryea homestead. Up until this point, John, who was a butcher in the village of Flushing, had grazed his cattle on this land.

Around 1877, the Flushing Cemetery paid Whitehead Duryea $22,000 for his land in order to expand the cemetery. Eventually, the cemetery association leased the old stone house to the Kissena Nursery Company, which had been established near Kissena Lake by Samuel Parsons in 1838.

When this 1873 map was created, the Flushing Cemetery had not yet purchased the 50 acres of land from Whitehead Druyea.
When this 1873 map was created, the Flushing Cemetery had not yet purchased the 50 acres of land from Whitehead Druyea to expand the cemetery.

By 1905, the old Sprong-Duryea house was being occupied by nursery worker Charles Tway and possibly other workers employed at the Kissena Nursery. (I’m not sure if the cow and chickens were still there by this time.)

With the old stone house falling into decay, nearby residents began filing complaints. The Historical Society tried to raise enough money to purchase the property from the Flushing Cemetery Corporation, but sadly, they were not able to get the funds. Sometime around 1906, the Department of Buildings ordered for the house to be demolished.

Sprong-Duryea house, Flushing, Queens
All that remains of the Sprong-Duryea are a few photographs and drawings.
Whitehead and Clara Duryea are buried in the Flushing Cemetery.
Whitehead and Clara Duryea are buried in the Flushing Cemetery.

The Winter Garden Theatre was home to the original Broadway production of Cats from 1982 until the production closed in 2000. But about 50 years before the creepy human cats appeared on stage, the theater was famous for its real cats, Minnie and Miss Frothingham.

The cast of Cats at the Winter Garden Theatre, 1982. Museum of the City of New York
The cast of Cats at the Winter Garden Theatre, 1982. Museum of the City of New York

Animal mascots on Broadway were quite popular in Old New York–almost every theater in New York City had at least one cat, dog, or monkey mascot. Union Square Jim took top honors as favorite theater mascot cat in the late 1800s, but it was Minnie, the feline mascot of the Winter Garden Theatre, who garnered the most publicity in the twentieth century.

Minnie was even more popular than Miss Frothingham, who was reportedly the feline star of the show at the Winter Garden. Much of Minnie’s publicity was courtesy of New York Daily News columnist John Chapman, who often wrote about the cat’s adventures in his “Mainly About Manhattan” column.

Vintage Cats
Could be mascots of Winter Garden Theatre
Minnie and Miss Frothingham (these cats are not them) were two of Broadway’s famous feline mascots in the early 1900s.

According to Chapman, Minnie arrived at the Winter Garden Theatre in the fall of 1928, which was the year Warner Bros. took over and converted the former theater into a movie house. (The theater returned to a live performance format in 1933). She made her way to the Montmartre Club, which then occupied the second floor of the three-story nightclub space on the 50th Street/Seventh Avenue side of the building.

The nightclub’s cook fed Minnie and made her welcome. The club had lots of mice, so there was lots of work to keep the kitten busy.

The Montmartre folded following the crash of 1929, but luckily, Larry McAllister, an engineer for the Winter Garden Theatre, found Minnie roaming around the deserted club. He took her back stage and fed her. Then he put her in the cellar where she reportedly captured a rat twice her size.

That catch earned Minnie the title of official mascot of the Winter Garden Theatre.

Winter Garden Theatre
The Winter Garden Theatre around the 1930s, when the facade was first covered with enormous signs.

According to Chapman, her number-one fan, Minnie was a lady who never left the building. She never had a husband and she never had children. She did have lots of friends, though, especially among the 40-60 stage hands working at the theater at any given time.

The stage hands also adored Minnie, and they would often bring her food and boxes of catnip. In return, any time she caught a mouse she would leave her kill just outside the stage door as a gift for her friends. If one of her favorite stage hands was transferred, she would sit at the door all day waiting for him to return.

Fanny Brice tried to adopt the mascot cat of the Winter Garden Theatre
Fanny Brice was was of Minnie’s most popular female fans.

Minnie didn’t care for the show girls, but she did make an impression with actress Fanny Brice of the Ziegfeld Follies, who tried to adopt the cat for her own. Morrie the night watchman would not allow it, as he never let Minnie out of his sight.

The popular Winter Garden Theatre cat was not only adored by Chapman and other humans–it seems that Midnight, the mascot cat for Radio City Music Hall, was also smitten with Minnie. The male cat reportedly “sent” a letter to the Daily News that read as follows:

Could you possibly arrange a meeting between the undersigned and Minnie, of the Winter Garden? I am a bachelor, 2 ½ years old, and I occupy a floor and terrace overlooking 50th Street and Sixth Avenue. I can offer her good grub, as I am fed on calf’s liver, chicken and fish. Sometimes, after a cocktail party in the apartment Roxy built [the private suite designed for Samuel Roxy Rothafel], I get caviar.

Minnie Appears on Stage at the Winter Garden

The Winter Garden Theatre on Broadway between 50th and 51st Streets.
The Winter Garden Theatre on Broadway between 50th and 51st Streets.

Although Chapman insisted that Minnie never once walked onto the stage at the Winter Garden during a performance, other reporters told a different story. According to one newspaper, Minnie once walked on during a “mood” song and took a position downstage center. With the attention of the audience centered on Minnie, the number was ruined. Another time she reportedly chased a dog off the stage, which stopped the show.

Once, someone submitted an application for Minnie for the Actors’ Equity Association. She was almost accepted until the association found out that it was a joke. (I wonder what last name was used on the application?)

During theater productions, when she wasn’t on stage, Minnie spent her time in the basement. As soon as the curtain rose at the end of the show (she knew when the curtain was raised because the rigging extended into the basement), Minnie would come upstairs and wait for Morrie by the water fountain near the stage door.

Hold Your Horses Playbill - Sept 1933
Minnie reportedly made her debut in "Hold Your Horses," starring Joe Cook, at the Winter Garden Theatre.
Minnie reportedly made her debut in “Hold Your Horses,” starring Joe Cook, at the Winter Garden Theatre.

While Minnie waited, the performers would all stop to caress her while exiting the door. Then she would follow Morrie all around the theater as he made his rounds when the theater had closed.

Minnie reportedly made her official Winter Garden Theatre debut in 1933, in a comedic play written by Russel Crouse (of The Sound of Music fame) called “Hold Your Horses.” I find this hard to believe, however, because by this time Minnie was already five years old and no doubt way too big for the part she reportedly played. But according to her pal Chapman, Minnie was used as a prop for actor Joe Cook, who “poured” the cat from a small wine goblet during one scene.

In April 1937, the Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported that Minnie had adopted a kitten. Apparently, Morrie had brought the stray kitten to the theater, never suspecting that Minnie’s maternal instincts would kick in.

One month later, Minnie died following an operation. The very night that Minnie died, a new cat arrived backstage to muscle in on Minnie’s territory. According to Chapman, the Winter Garden crew decided that this cat was not a suitable successor. Minnie was a lady; this cat was not.

Russel Crouse and Miss Frothingham

Following Minnie’s death, show writer and cat fancier Russel Crouse wrote the following letter to the New York Daily News. In the letter, he claimed that Minnie was not the feline star of his show–the real star was his own cat, Miss Frothingham. The delightfully amusing letter read as follows:

“I have just read that Minnie is dead. Now I may speak freely. Far be it from me to speak ill of the dead. Minnie was a nice cat and I liked her. But she had been getting away with murder in the way of publicity for several years, and now that she has gone to the Big Saucer of Milk I think the truth should be known.

Russel Crouse and his partner Howard Lindsay had numerous hits, including The Sound of Music (with a score by Rodgers and Hammerstein); Anything Goes, and Red, Hot and Blue (with scores by Cole Porter).
Russel Crouse and his business partner Howard Lindsay had numerous hits, including The Sound of Music (with a score by Rodgers and Hammerstein); Anything Goes, and Red, Hot and Blue (with scores by Cole Porter).

Minnie had been claiming that she was the cat that was poured out of the cocktail shaker in “Hold Your Horses,” in which Joe Cook appeared at the Winter Garden several seasons ago. That just wasn’t so. I could have exposed her long ago, but I didn’t have the heart.

The cat that was poured out of the cocktail shaker was Miss Frothingham, who sits before me as I write… Miss Frothingham was born in Boston, where we picked her up from a stagehand for the opening there of “Hold Your Horses.” She was three months old and had been hanging around the alley by the theatre for several weeks—trying to get into a show, she tells me, for her folks told her she had talent.

We brought her to New York, where she suffered the fate of many a promising actress. She ate too much. She finally got so fat she couldn’t fit into the cocktail shaker. So we got a little black cat to succeed her. Miss Frothingham remained at the theatre long enough to slap her successor in the face after his first appearance and then retired—retired to my home where she still lives in the memory of her days in the theatre.

Almost three years ago she confided in me that only a family would make her life complete and that she didn’t want any stage door Johnny for a husband. I got her a husband for a couple of days—a fine upstanding cat named Rockridge Sultan, from the right side of the railroad tracks. It cost me $10, but I understand that Sultan later gave the money back to Miss Frothingham. Anyway, two years ago last Christmas, Miss F. produced a son—and took four encores.

Being born on Christmas day these five children were named Gold, Frankincense, Myrrh, Peace on Earth, and Good Will to Men. They are the nicest kittens you have ever seen, although Miss F. gets pretty sick of them at times. That is due, perhaps, to the fact that they show no desire to go on the stage, being content to stay home and rip up my furniture.

As for Miss Frothingham, she seems quite happy, and whenever she sulks I just take out her notices and read them aloud to her, and that seems to satisfy her. But I know she is still an actress. She likes to bite producers.”

A Brief History of the Winter Garden Theatre

The Winter Garden Theatre was built on the old Hopper Farm, shown on the 1818-1820 John Randel farm maps.
The Winter Garden Theatre (X) was built on the old Hopper Farm, shown on the 1818-1820
John Randel farm maps.

In 1881, William K. Vanderbilt and a group of investors built the area’s biggest building on the blockfront of 50th Street from Broadway to Seventh Avenue. This property, in an area then known as Longacre Square, had once been part of the large Hopper Farm that spread over both sides of Broadway above 50th Street.

Vanderbilt and his wealthy friends didn’t build a hotel; they built the American Horse Exchange–a place where the elite could depend on high-quality thoroughbred horse trading.

On June 12, 1896, a fire swept through the American Horse Exchange. One stable hand and about 60 of the 265 horses stabled there were killed in the blaze as thousands of people crowded around the building, sometimes blocking horses from escaping.

The New York Times reported that ”crazed animals could be seen dashing blindly about in their terror.” Those horses that were lucky to escape were later recovered from all over midtown.

The ruins of the American Horse Exchange at 1642 Broadway between 50th and 51st Streets after a fatal fire in 1896. Museum of the City of New York
The ruins of the American Horse Exchange at 1642 Broadway between 50th and 51st Streets after a fatal fire in 1896. Museum of the City of New York

Vanderbilt reconstructed the American Horse Exchange in 1897. According to the New York Times, architect A. V. Porter reused a portion of the surviving walls to create a two-, three- and four-story structure with a high covered ring 160 by 80 feet. The ring was bridged by open truss work; the brick perimeter walls featured round-arched windows as did the original building.

With automobiles becoming increasingly popular, especially among the elite, the Vanderbilt group leased the site in 1910 to Lee and J. J. Shubert for their growing theater chain. By this time, Longacre Square was known as Times Square, and the area was home to several large theaters.

The Winter Garden Theatre occupies the second American Horse Exchange, built by William K. Vanderbilt in 1896.
The Winter Garden Theatre occupies the second American Horse Exchange, built by William K. Vanderbilt in 1897. Back then, Times Square was called Longacre Square, and this area was the center of the horse and carriage trade.

In building their new theater, the Shuberts reused much of the original perimeter walls of the American Horse Exchange as well as the riding-ring truss work for the theater auditorium. They added a temple-style front on Broadway and a three-story nightclub space that extended back behind the old walls on 50th Street to Seventh Avenue.

Construction on the IRT Broadway-Seventh Avenue Line’s 50th Street Station, outside the American Horse Exchange building, July 14, 1902.
The Schuberts added a temple-style front to the old American Horse Exchange building. Winter Garden Theatre
The Schuberts added a temple-style front to the old American Horse Exchange building.
 Winter Garden Theatre
The Winter Garden Theatre made good use of the new large marquee; 1923.

The Winter Garden Theatre opened March 20, 1911, with “Bow Sing” and “La Belle Paree,” which starred Al Jolson (this was the show that launched his theater career). The theater was completely remodeled in 1922, but six years later the venue switched to film when it was taken over by Warner Bros.

The Winter Garden reverted to live theater in September 1933, which is when either Minnie or Miss Frothingham made her stage debut in “Hold Your Horses.”

The old ring of the American Horse Exchange would become the auditorium for the Winter Garden Theatre.
The old ring of the American Horse Exchange would become the auditorium for the Winter Garden Theatre.
The old truss roof from the former horse exchange building was preserved for the Winter Garden Theatre auditorium.
The old truss roof from the former horse exchange building was preserved for the Winter Garden Theatre auditorium.
Winter Garden Theatre
In later years, the trusswork was covered over.

Two years after another renovation in 1980, “Cats” opened at the Winter Garden, becoming the longest running show in Broadway history. I’ve never been a fan of the feline-themed Broadway show. But if the theater ever gets a few real cats again, I will be sure to buy a ticket for that.