Somewhere under an apartment building on West 121st Street, on a section of the street just east of Amsterdam Avenue called George Carlin Way, lies the body of a large Newfoundland who was buried on an early spring day in 1896. His grave, once “marked by a floral display seldom equaled by a rich man’s funeral,” is now under tons of concrete and steel. But the story of Nero, the beloved Newfoundland of Fire Patrol No. 5, will live on through this animal tale of Old New York.*
(* Obviously, this is poetic license; his shallow grave was no doubt disturbed during construction.)
Nero was a large, black, good-natured Newfoundland. According to The Sun, every man, woman, and child from Morningside Heights to St. Nicholas Avenue knew and loved the dog. He was the neighborhood pet of Hancock Square and a member of Fire Patrol No. 5 on West 121st Street.
Technically, Nero was owned by Mr. L.C. Pentez, who lived at 315 West 121st Street. Mr. Pentez brought the dog to Harlem in 1890. His son, Willie, introduced Nero to the neighborhood children, and the dog became their playmate.
The kids played all sorts of games with Nero, and he tolerated everything they did with the grace of a good dog. They hitched him to a wagon, rode on his back, pulled his ears, tumbled all over him, and even taught him to walk on his hind legs.
Nero lived with the Pentez family in their third-floor apartment at 315 West 121st Street, pictured here (center) in 1940.
One of Nero’s favorite games was “fire,” in which the children taught him to run at the ringing of a bell. During this game, the children called him their fire dog.
In 1892, when Fire Patrol No. 5 was established at 307 West 121st Street, Nero was eager to join. Soon, Nero got into the habit of responding to fires with the men whenever the bell sounded (sometimes he would jump from an open window in the Pentez’s apartment, which was on the third floor, to respond to the fire gong ringing at the patrol house).
The training Nero had received from the young firefighters attracted the attention of the men assigned to the patrol company. They decided to make him an official member.
It wasn’t long before every firemen in Harlem knew Nero. He never saved any lives, but he did guard over the horses at all the fires until the patrol company was ready to return home. (Actually, he would just sleep under the horses–it gave him a good chance to catch up on some much-needed rest after playing all day with the children.)
When he wasn’t playing with the kids or responding to fires, Nero liked to bask in the sun by the front door of the fire patrol house. Oftentimes on these occasions, the little girls would gather around him or even sleep on his back.
Nero enjoyed sleeping under the horses and basking in the sun in front of the patrol house for Fire Patrol No. 5 at 307 West 121st Street.
On the Sunday before his death, Nero had accompanied the fire patrol to a fire at 108th Street and First Avenue. While the men were working, he disappeared. The men whistled and sounded their signal gong for him, but he didn’t return. The men searched for their dog as long as possible, but he was gone.
A few days later, two men who were “rough in appearance” brought Nero to the fire patrol house. “Here’s your dog,” they said, before hurrying away. The men offered the dog some food, but Nero refused to eat. Upon further examination, they noticed that his throat was badly lacerated, as if he had been attacked by another dog.
The men called for a veterinary surgeon, who said that the dog’s windpipe had been cut. The injury was fatal. Nero died on April 24.
Captain Edgar D. Smith and six other members of Fire Patrol No. 5 served as pallbearers for the dog, carrying him to his final resting place on West 121st Street, in the shadows of Morningside Heights. More than 100 boys and girls attended the funeral. Ten boys with picks and shovels dug the grave, while several girls collected flowers from nearby Riverside Park.
Neighborhood children and the men of Fire Patrol No. 5 buried Nero the Newfoundland in a vacant lot on West 121st Street, just east of Amsterdam Avenue. I’m not sure which the side of the street his grave was, but perhaps it was in the empty lot to the east of this building, pictured around 1910 (or maybe it was under this building). New York Public Library Digital Collections
When the grave was completed, the firemen lowered Nero’s body into it. The dog was still wearing the special collar they had presented to him only a year earlier. The men then covered the site with a large mound of dirt, and the girls decorated it with flowers. Additional flowers were placed in a circle around the grave and used to create a little pathway leading to it.
Toward the end of the ceremony, a little boy appeared with a cross made of white wood. On it was this inscription:
After the cross was placed at the head of the grave, the little crying children returned to their homes. The men of Fire Patrol No. 5 returned sadly to their headquarters.
If I ever find myself on West 121st Street, on a section of the street called George Carlin Way, I’ll think of Nero and the joy he brought to the neighborhood. I think the comedian would agree that Nero was a special dog.
I love every dog I ever had. … In my lifetime, I have had me a bunch of different dogs. Because you do keep getting a new dog don’t you? … That’s the whole secret of life. Life…is a series of dogs. It’s true! You just keep getting a new dog, don’t you? That’s what’s good about them. They don’t live too long… Sometimes, you can get a dog that looks exactly like the dog you used to have. Right? You shop around a little bit, and you find a dog identical to your former dog. And that’s real handy cause you don’t have to change the pictures on your mirror or anything. Right? You just bring the dead one into the pet shop. Throw him up on the counter and say, “Give me another one of them. That was real good.” — George Carlin, comedian, dog lover
A Brief History of Fire Patrol No. 5
The New York Fire Patrol – officially the Fire Insurance Patrol — was organized in 1839 and funded by the New York Board of Fire Underwriters (NYBFU) to patrol lower Manhattan. The job of the patrolman or “Patrolio” was to discover fires and to prevent losses to insured properties.
The men worked alongside the volunteer firefighters, and, later, the paid firemen, and were in fact firefighters trained in the art of salvage and overhaul.
Members of the Fire Insurance Patrol, also referred to as the Fire Patrol or the Salvage Patrol, stood out from the regular fireman by their bright red helmets. Their well-equipped vehicles carried a 16-foot extension ladder, chemical extinguishers, hooks, axes, door-openers, brooms, shovels, buckets, ropes, and various other tools. Museum of the City of New York
In 1867 a state charter was granted to the Fire Patrol to legally extinguish fires and conduct salvage operations throughout New York City. The New York Fire Patrol was the oldest paid fire service in the United States, and was the last insurance-funded fire salvage corps in the country when it was disbanded in 2006.
As the city’s population expanded northward, the Fire Patrol was also expanded to cover Manhattan north of Central Park. Fire Patrol No. 5 of Harlem went into service on February 1, 1892.
Under the command of Lieutenant Edgar D. Smith, the unit covered territory north of 110th Street. In addition to Lt. Smith, the original force also included a sergeant and 12 permanent and auxiliary patrolmen.
Fire Patrol No. 5 headquarters, early 1900s
Fire Patrol No. 5 moved into their new headquarters in January 1892. The four-story and basement building had room for 2 wagons on the first floor, with stalls for four horses. A private office, dormitory, and lounging rooms were on the second floor.
The third floor had a sitting room and a drying room for the blankets used at fire operations. The top floor was also used to dry blankets.
And I love this: In addition to the sliding poles from all the top floors, there was also a trap door for the driver on the second floor. This allowed him to step out of bed, press on the door, and drop directly into his seat on the patrol wagon.
307 West 121st Street, 1940.
Today, the old home for Fire Patrol No. 5 houses 4 apartments. Click here to check out a top floor, 2500-square-foot apartment for $4000 a month (note that it last sold in 1985 for $40,000!).
Present-day West 121st Street, aka George Carlin Way, just east of Amsterdam Avenue.
Part 3 of a three-part series on the popular animal mascots and horses of the Richmond Hill Police Station.
Joseph Probst Jr. about 1895
In Part 1 and Part 2 of this series, we met Tramp and Sport, who were popular cat and dog mascots of the Richmond Hill Police in 1924. For this last story of the series, I will tell you about my great-grandfather Joseph Probst Jr., who served on the Richmond Hill Police mounted unit in the early 1900s. I will also explore the history of the Richmond Hill police station and Mounted Unit Troop G.
During the reign of Tramp the cat and Sport the dog, one of the most popular horses assigned to the Richmond Hill Police traffic unit was Graywood, who was assigned to Patrolman William Schwoebel. Graywood and Schwoebel were best friends and partners for many years. All the school children loved the horse, and often came to visit him at the police stables behind the police station.
Another favorite horse during this time period was Blaze, who gained notoriety at the start of Prohibition for sniffing out booze in a Richmond Hill cellar. Blaze was the horse of Patrolman David Levy.
By 1924, my great-grandfather had already put in 17 years of service with the mounted unit in Richmond Hill. During his years with Mounted Unit Troop G, he had many adventures with his horse.
Sadly, I do not know the horse’s name.
Joseph and Helen Probst lived in this home at 86-24 125th Street. NYC Department of Records 1940 tax photos.
Born in 1873, Joseph Probst Jr. started his career as a ticket agent for the railroad. Five years after his first wife died in 1899, he married my great-grandmother, Helen Emma Berger.
My grandmother Margaret and her brother Charles about 1925.
In 1906, Joseph and Helen moved to a new house at 333 Ward Street (now 86-24 125th Street), where my grandmother Margaret and her three siblings were born.
Joseph Probst joined the police department in 1907, which is when the Mounted Unit Troop G was established in Richmond Hill. One of the first four mounted patrolmen in the precinct, he was responsible for training many of the rookie mounted patrolmen.
For many years, my great-grandfather was assigned to traffic control at the intersection of Merrick Road and South Street (now Merrick Blvd and Liberty Ave). At that time, this was a heavy traffic spot in Jamaica.
During his 20 years in service, he was recognized many times for saving lives, stopping reckless drivers, and apprehending criminals.
The intersection of Merrick Avenue and South Street was considered a heavy traffic area in the early 1900s. This was Patrolman Joseph Probst’s post for many years.
Horse Finds Dying Man in Woods
In May 1910, Mounted Patrolman Probst was riding along Metropolitan Avenue near Forest Park when his horse shied and started sniffing the air towards the trees in the park. My great-grandfather searched around the bushes and found an unconscious man dying from gunshot wounds.
The man died at St. Mary’s Hospital the following day.
According to Brooklyn Times Union, the young man was described as about 30 years old and good looking, with dark curly hair, hazel eyes, and wearing the fine clothes of a gentleman. Alongside the young man lay a .32-calibre rifle and two discharged shells. He had bullet wounds under the heart and on the side of his head.
The bullet wounds were determined to be self-inflicted.
Based on the man’s personal items, including a monogramed watch with the initials A.K., a pin bearing the initials A.F.M. (American Federation of Musicians), several music scores, a tuning fork, and pitch fork, police assumed he was a musician. However, because no one came to claim the body, the man’s identity remained a mystery. He was buried in a Potters’ Field.
Mounted Patrolman Joseph Probst Jr. on his horse in Forest Park, Queens.
Fortunately for the man’s family, a fellow musician and AFM member named John G. Pfeiffer happened to read the article about the suicide in the newspaper. Determined to identify the man in order to give him a proper burial, he did some extensive investigating. Three months later, he identified the man as J. August Kuehis.
Saves Horses in Fire
On July 16, 1910, the Brooklyn Standard Union reported a large fire that had started in a one-story stable and carriage shed owned by J.J. O’Brien at 19 Vine Street (123rd Street). My great-grandfather, another patrolman named E.J. Mayer, and several citizens led a dozen horses from the shed. The horses all had to be blindfolded before they would leave the shed.
The fire eventually spread to a moulding mill owned by William C. Haguaard & Co., which was surrounded by great piles of lumber on all sides. With so much fuel for the fire, it’s truly amazing that all the horses were saved.
Injured in a Riot
New York Times, May 2, 1913
In May 1913, 300 men of Italian descent who were employed in construction work for the Long Island Railroad demanded a 25-cent increase in pay. When their request was turned down, they marched in anger toward Richmond Hill. Along the way, they picked up about 700 more workmen on the tracks.
When the men reached the railroad yards at Richmond Hill, they began throwing stones at the box cars. Four policemen tried to rush the strikers on foot, but they had to retreat from the volley of stones.
News of the riot reached the Richmond Hill police station, where Sergeant Albert Kolson was just about to lead 10 mounted patrolmen in the a drill. The men, including Joseph Probst, began galloping toward the railroad yards, four blocks away.
Patrolman Joseph Probst Jr., around 1910
Finding the four foot patrolmen in danger of being rushed by the mob, they charged into the gang of strikers, using their clubs to strike every head in range. Then they drew their guns and began shooting into the air and the ground (for the most part), sending the strikers fleeing in all directions.
During the intense fighting, the bridle of Patrolman Albert Herter was seized, and Herter was dragged on the ground. He was kicked and beaten and had three ribs fractured.
Sergeant Kolson was thrown from his horse and dislocated his shoulder. My great-grandfather was knocked from his saddle by a large rock that caused a gash in his head. He fell on his head and suffered a concussion.
Sergeant Kolson ordered another charge, which sent the mob in two directions — one along Lefferts Avenue and one down Jamaica Avenue to Clarenceville, a mile away. Six men were eventually arrested, two of whom had suffered considerably from the nightstick blows.
In 1914, my great-grandfather earned membership in the the coveted Honor Legion for helping to quell the riot of the Long Island Railroad strikers.
I have inherited Joseph Probst’s nightsticks. I used to think the gashes on the largest one were caused by knocking on concrete. Now I wonder if they were caused by knocking the strikers’ heads during the 1913 riot.
The Passing of Joseph Probst Jr.
Joseph Probst retired from the police department in 1927. He spent his remaining years entertaining friends at home and sharing stories about his adventures on the job.
In January 1933, at the young age of 60, he died of a heart ailment. My great-grandmother, Helen, passed away in 1943.
My great-grandparents were buried at Maple Grove Cemetery in Kew Gardens. One of the days, when COVID-19 has passed and the world has quieted down a bit, I hope to bring my mother there so we can visit their gravesite.
This ends my story of Joseph Probst Jr. If you are interested in history, the following is a history of the police station and Mounted Until Troop G at Richmond Hill.
A Brief History of the Richmond Hill Police Station
The site of the Richmond Hill police station on Church Street (now 118th Street) was originally the farm of Captain Jeremiah Watson Briggs (1792-1876), a seaman and Navy veteran of the War of 1812.
The site of the Briggs farm is shown on the bottom right of this 1873 map of Richmond Hill. Market Street, later called Johnson Avenue and then Church Street, is present-day 118th Street.
Captain Briggs married Jane Hedges in 1830, and 17 years later the couple moved to the Village of Morris Park in the Town of Jamaica. There, the former Navy man cultivated prized pears on an orchard bounded by present-day Jamaica and Atlantic Avenues.
The original site of the Briggs homestead is noted on this 1891 map. At this time, 117th Street was called Briggs Avenue and 118th Street was called Johnson Avenue. Jamaica Avenue was called the Brooklyn and Jamaica Plank Road.
Jane and Jeremiah Briggs had six children: Joseph L., John S., Mary R. , George S., Jeremiah Watson, and Nina H. The last family member to occupy the Briggs residence was Joel Fowler, a grandson of Captain Briggs (the son of Nina Briggs and Oliver Fowler.)
The home of Captain Jeremiah Briggs originally faced Jamaica Avenue between present-day 117th and 118th Streets. It was later moved to the west side of Briggs Avenue (87-27 117th Street), south of Jamaica Avenue. This is how the home looked in 1922.
A colorized post card of the Briggs house in 117th Street. It has been reported that Captain Briggs spent many hours on the widow’s walk, using a spyglass to watch the ships on Jamaica Bay.
In 1895, Morris Park, Clarenceville, and Richmond Hill merged into the Village of Richmond Hill. To serve the enlarged village, Richmond Hill Village Hall was built on the spot of the present-day police station in 1896.
The police station/village hall and Public Sschool No. 51 are noted on this 1909 map.
In addition to a general village hall, the building served as the first headquarters of the new Richmond Hill Police, then only a sub-station of the Jamaica police precinct. In 1897, the sub-station (the 18th Sub-Precinct) had one captain and seven patrolmen. All of these men would be replaced a year later, when Queens and the other four boroughs were consolidated to form the City of Greater New York.
The village hall building also housed a jail, the Morris Park Hook and Ladder Company, and a meeting hall on the second floor that also served as an opera house with live performances.
Richmond Hill Village Hall, Johnson Avenue (later called Church Street and 118th Street), on the right.
Morris Park Hook and Ladder moved into the left side of the Richmond Hill village hall building in 1902. The horses were Jim and John; also note the fire dog.
Public School No. 51 was next to Richmond Hill Village Hall. Notice the mounted patrolman walking toward the school. I wonder if this was Joseph Probst? An early 1900s floor plan of the Richmond Hill village hall/police station is shown below.
In 1905, The Richmond Hill Board of Trade started looking into getting a new dedicated police station for the growing town. It wasn’t until four years later, when the building was almost washed away in a heavy storm, that first steps were taken to get a new home for the Richmond Hill police.
In April 1910, Police Commissioner William Frazer Baker said he would accept bids for anyone who wanted to buy the barnlike structure for its lumber. By this time, the building was no longer a viable structure for the men of what was now the 283rd Precinct.
As the Brooklyn Times Union reported, the men of the Richmond Hill police station “keep themselves in good training” by constantly dodging plaster falling from the walls and ceiling.
While a new station was being built on the site of the old one, the police leased a two-story frame house with basement and attic at Jamaica Avenue and Sherman Street (127th Street). This was the former home of Colonel William Alexander Jones, a commissioned officer who fought for the Union Army during the Civil War.
The property of Colonel William Alexander Jones is shown on this 1891 map. At this time, Sherman Street has not yet been cut through south of Jamaica Avenue.
A funny thing happened after the police moved into their new home.
According to the report, soon after Colonel Jones’ death in December 1909, the house and grounds were sold and the property was divided. So, to reach Jamaica Avenue, the police technically had to trespass on the land owned by the realty firm that bought the property situated between the house and the roadway. Local residents joked that the police should arrest each other for trespass each time they crossed the property.
The Peter Opper Roadhouse was directly across the street from the temporary police station, on Jamaica Avenue and Sherman Street. According to a 1907 map, there was a bowling alley to the rear of this building.
On November 13, 1913, the police moved into their new station at 275 Church Street (now 87-34 118th Street). The new building was designed by Kirby & Pettit, who were also the architects of Dreamland in Coney Island.
Richmond Hill police station about 1914. Patrolman Probst may be second from the right.
Richmond Hill police station (now the 102nd Precinct) as it looks on 118th Street today.
The Final Years of Mounted Unit Troop G
In the early 1980s, the city attempted to close the Troop G stables at Richmond Hill. The residents fought to keep the horses–and they won. In fact, not only did they get to keep the horses, but the horses also got a newly renovated stable facility at the police station in 1984.
The stables at Richmond Hill were renovated in 1984 and again in 1993.
At this time, there were 11 horses in Troop G at Richmond Hill, which was one of two stables for NYPD mounted units in Queens (the other stable for Troop F was at Cunningham Park in Bayside). There were also two stables in Manhattan and one in the Bronx and Brooklyn.
The men of Mounted Unit Troop G display their skills in 1984.
In September 1999, due to budget cuts, the Mounted Unit Troop G was moved from the Richmond Hill police stables to the old stables in Cunningham Park. According to reports, the city could not afford to have two hostlers (someone who cares for horses) for both Troop F and Troop G.
The move was supposed to be temporary, but it turned out to be permanent. Although the residents fought hard for five years, in 2004 the horses of the old Troop G were transferred to Troop B in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan.
According to the Queens Chronicle, the stables at Richmond Hill were renovated to accommodate 75 school safety officers for the Franklin K. Lane and Richmond Hill High Schools.
Part 2 of a three-part story on the popular animal mascots and horses of the Richmond Hill Police Station.
Part 2: Sport, the Hero Canine Mascot
In Part 1 of this series, we met Tramp, the Richmond Hill Police cat who saved the police horses from rats and mice. Part 2 is a sweet, short story about Sport, a collie who saved a mother cat and her kittens.
Sport was described as an immense collie who adopted the police officers of the Richmond Hill police station in July 1924. He loved all the men in the station, from Captain Herbert Graham to detectives Mierau, Herbert, Cotter, and Newins–and all the way down the line.
Brooklyn Daily Eagle, July 30, 1924
A few weeks after Sport adopted the police, he found a mother cat with newborn kittens in an alley near the police station. After carefully considering the situation, he decided to make preparations to bring the feline family to the horse stables attached to the station.
According to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Sport gathered up some loose hay and placed it in a remote corner of the stables. The reporter noted, “Having arranged this to his satisfaction, the dog was now ready for the second part of his knightly performance.”
The horses stables at the Richmond Hill police station, pictured here in 1975, made the perfect home for a mother cat and her kittens.
Sport returned to the alley and placed one of the kittens gently in his mouth. The mother cat must have sensed that the dog was doing a good thing, because she did not put up a fight. Five times Sport returned to the alley to gather a kitten, until they were all safely deposited in the bed of hay.
When all her kittens were gone, the mother cat followed Sport back to the stables and joined her brood in the hay.
Although the police officers did not object to housing the new family temporarily, they would not be able to keep them forever. They already had Tramp, their expert mouser, and I’m sure Tramp was not too pleased about the new arrivals invading his territory.
As the Brooklyn Eagle noted, if the police could not continue to care for the cats, Sport was sure to find another way to provide for them and be their knight in shining armor.
If you’re a horse lover, stay tuned. In Part III, I’ll tell you about some of my great-grandfather’s adventures with his police horse and provide a detailed history of the Richmond Hill police station and mounted unit.
Part 1 of a three-part story on the popular animal mascots and horses of the Richmond Hill Police Station.
Part 1: Tramp the Police Cat
In March 1916, the Richmond Hill Police precinct, which covered all of Richmond Hill, Woodhaven, Morris Park, and part of Forest Hills, was designated a mounted precinct. That is, every mounted police officer throughout Queens was transferred to the 283rd Precinct in Richmond Hill.
The Richmond Hill Police in front of their station on Church Street (now 118th Street) sometime around 1914. My great-grandfather may be in this photo, possibly the man second from the right.
At this time, the Richmond Hill Police station on Church Street had only 15 mounted police–one of these men was my great-grandfather, Joseph Probst Jr. The new designation would add about 55 more mounted police to the rural precinct.
The additional horses were a great asset to the Richmond Hill police force. The large precinct, with 183 miles of streets in a sparsely developed area, was much too large to be patrolled by only by 15 mounted police and a few dozen men on foot and bicycle.
With the additional horses came the need for a larger horse stable. The new (circa 1913) police station at 275 Church Street did have stables, but not nearly enough for 70 or more horses.
The small number of horse stables at the Richmond Hill police station were not adequate for the new mounted squad. This photo was taken in 1975. New York Daily News, May 30, 1975
So in May 1916, the department leased from the Alex Campbell Milk Company a large frame stable on the east side of Sherman Street (126th Street), between Jamaica Plank Road (Jamaica Avenue) and Stewart Avenue (89th Avenue).
The building featured 36 plain and 2 box stalls, plus an open frame building that could be enclosed and modified for additional stalls. The annual lease was $1,000.
The location was perfect for my great-grandfather — he lived one block over on Ward Street (125th Street), just north of Jamaica Avenue — so he was close to his horse.
The Richmond Hill Police horse stables were located in the former stables of the Alex Campbell Milk Company on Sherman Street (126th). This was the former property of Colonel William Alexander Jones, who fought for the Union Army during the Civil War. G.W. Bromley 1909 map, New York Public Library
Help Wanted: Good Mouserfor Horse Stables
Now that the Richmond Hill Police had much larger horse stables, they needed a good to mouser to handle all the vermin that shared the building with the horses. According to the officers, who spoke to a reporter from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle in 1923, the stables had at one time become infested with literally millions of trillions of rats and mice.
Luckily, Tramp came along a few years after the horses moved into the stables and answered their call for help.
Tramp, described as a big-headed, earnest-faced, blue-eyed cat, limped into the station house on Church Street in 1919. (By this time, the precinct was known as the 118th Precinct.) The poor cat was limping because his front paw had been badly crushed in an auto accident. Somehow, he knew he could help at the building with the green lights out front.
Detective Sergeant Albert Hill bandaged the cat’s limb and placed him on a little cot in the reserve room. Tramp reportedly purred, meowed, wagged his fuzzy tail, and threw grateful glances toward his cat-man hero.
While Tramp was bed-ridden, the officers couldn’t do enough to help him. They brought him food and pet him every day. Then they officially admitted him to their ranks–even going as far as giving him a collar that stated, “P.D. 118 Prct.”
According to the men, Tramp responded to his new position as follows:
Bring on your blue-ribboned pussies and your lap cats! What are they compared to me? Perfumed, manicured parlor pets that simply lie around and look pretty. About as useful as a joker in a pinochie deck. I’m a cop and I’ll tell the world about it.”
Brooklyn Daily Eagle, April 17, 1923
Tramp quickly made friends with the entire department. His favorite was Officer Harry Scherer, a champion horseman nicknamed “the rough-rider of the department.” Harry was Tramp’s best friend and Tramp was Harry’s pet; woe to anyone who might say a harsh word about the cat in front of Officer Scherer!
Tramp earned his love and respect by making himself very useful as a champion mouser in the horse stables. As the Brooklyn Eagle noted, he could “swing a swarthy right.”
Even the horses became affectionately attached to the cat. After spending a hard day helping their human officers direct traffic and stop runaway horses, they welcomed the “sweet repose” that the vermin-free stabled offered them.
A month after the Brooklyn Daily Eagle first reported on Tramp, the Brooklyn Daily Eagle reporter returned to the Richmond Hill station to follow up on Tramp. This time, the cat reportedly announced that he wanted to enter the Eagle’s movie contest.
According to the reporter, Tramp thought he had a favorable chance of being picked the most handsome brunette on Long Island. He also felt that the movie producer Ernest Shipman should sign him up for his next picture (Tramp was reportedly even willing to sever ties with the police for a starring role!)
This cat looks more like a monkey, but at least we can assume that Tramp was a Tuxedo cat. Brooklyn Daily Eagle, May 22, 1923
As to what type of roles Tramp could play, the reporter surmised that, with the right director leading him, he could play any part from licking up a healthy size saucer of milk to scratching the eyes out of any person.
According to the Eagle, Tramp believed that dogs were too often cast as heroes in movies, and he was peeved that tom cats did not having starring roles on the silver screen (I guess he didn’t know about the movie cats of Miss Elizabeth Kingston, who ran a cattery in South Richmond Hill).
“A movie, like a good play, must have plenty of atmosphere, color and action,” Tramp reportedly told the journalist. “I don’t want to boast, but let me tell you that I’ve got all of those things. I may not be an artist, but I sure know a movie has got to have a cat moving around especially in the moonlit night scenes when lovers and cats come out to romance.”
I doubt that Tramp ever got to play a part in a movie. I have a feeling he wouldn’t have wanted to leave the police station for anything. And I know the men of the Richmond Hill station would not have wanted to lose their beloved police cat.
Coming Soon, Part II: Sport, the Hero Police Dog
Brooklyn Daily Eagle, July 30, 1924
In Part II of this story, we’ll meet Sport, the Richmond Hill Police canine mascot who rescued five kittens and their mother cat in 1924. In Part III, I’ll tell you about some of my great-grandfather’s adventures with his police horse and provide a detailed history of the Richmond Hill police station and mounted unit.
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
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.
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.
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.
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
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. 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
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.
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
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 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.
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.
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.
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
If you enjoyed this story, you may enjoy reading about the sea lions and penguins who swam in the fountain at Rockefeller Center.
