Tootsy fire cat
“Tootsy Ready for a Fire.” New York Press, March 29, 1896

Tootsy was the beloved feline firefighter of Engine Company 27 on Franklin Street in Lower Manhattan. Born on the Fourth of July in 1895, Tootsy reportedly loved the smell of smoke as much as she treasured a fresh-caught mouse.

She was a genuine fire cat who loved riding on the fire engine, conversing with the firemen, and sleeping in her favorite horse’s harness. She was also quite beautiful, and drew much praise from the public and the press when she appeared in the National Cat Show at Madison Square Garden. According to the New York Press, the firemen adored Tootsy so much, they would have rather parted with their shields than lose their “white-fleeced feline fire fighter.”

Tootsy was born in the stall of Old Babe, a veteran fire horse who had joined the engine company 20 years earlier. Her mother cat was also a veteran of the firehouse; she joined Engine Company 27 in 1891 when she was a kitten.

Tootsy was a bit shy of the horses, but she loved and trusted Babe, who had always been her mother’s ally. Babe’s bright harness caught the young Tootsy’s fancy, and from the time she was six weeks old, it served as her “boudoir and reception room.” Only when Babe had to don the harness to respond to a call would Tootsy retire to the desk of the house watchman.

The men of Engine Company 27 about 1907. Museum of the City of New York
The men of Engine Company 27 about 1905. Museum of the City of New York

As a kitten, Tootsy had a reckless, dare-devil spirit. She would have responded to every alarm had the firemen allowed her to join them. Sliding down the brass pole from the third floor to the apparatus floor was second nature to her. Once she was on the apparatus floor, it took all the efforts of the firemen to keep her off the engines and tender before they swung out of quarters.

Tootsy’s persistence paid off one cold winter evening in 1895. According to the story reported in the New York Press, everyone in the company except Tootsy and the night watchman had been asleep upstairs when, a few minutes before midnight, the network of wires and bells broke the silence. “Tootsy saw Babe come galloping toward the harness, and the fierce light of a new resolve came into her eyes and she cleared away for action, and with one bound she landed safely on the pipe on the right-hand side of the engine. She lay close to the big boiler, so that the firemen could not see her.”

As the engine dashed down Franklin Street and rattled over the paving stones, Tootsy held fast to the suction pipe. At one point, Captain Robert R. Farrell saw a man point excitedly in the direction of the driver. He leaned over and caught site of Tootsy, who had just been confronted by the engineer.

The young cat then hopped playfully around the engine, “as though she were in quarters rather than traveling 20 miles an hour on a fire engine with a full head of steam on.” Fearing that she would get lost at the fire, Captain Farrell grabbed the fire cat, opened his coat, and tucked her inside. At the fire scene, he handed Tootsy over to Fireman McCoy, who allowed her to stay on the engine as the men fought the blaze on West Broadway.

Although Tootsy tried to respond to other fires, her efforts were almost always thwarted by her mama cat, who would betray the kitten by meowing whenever she saw Tootsy on the engine’s suction pipe. Despite her mother cat’s efforts, Tootsy was determined to make one more fire run on the engine.

Engine Company 27 at Broadway and Franklin Street in 1905. Museum of the City of New York
Engine Company 27 at Broadway and Franklin Street in 1905. Museum of the City of New York

Her chance came one snowy night when a second alarm came in for a fire on Broadway. (Engine Company 27 was a two-alarm station, which meant they only responded to the second call. As a two-alarm station, the company’s horses had to remain hitched up long enough for the first officer arriving on the scene to sound a second alarm if needed.)

As was reported in the Press, “Tootsy was dying to get into Broadway, where she could show herself to advantage. She had never been in Broadway, and then she knew that Commissioner Sheffield usually responded to second alarms and she resolved to see the young commissioner, or forfeit one of her nine feline lives in the attempt.”

Two minutes after the first alarm was received, “the gong began its song of danger the second time.” As the company moved out into the street, the firemen looked back and saw a white cat sound asleep in the station. Thinking it was Tootsy, and not her pregnant mama cat, the men decided it was safe to pull out of quarters.

Tootsy saw her window of opportunity and leaped to the suction pipe as the engine started to move. The firemen didn’t see the stowaway feline until they had reached Canal Street. Tootsy balanced herself on the pipe like a tightrope walker as the engine raced to the scene. There, she kept company with the engineer, meowed at the crowd, and kept a close watch on Commissioner James Rockwell Sheffield and Chief Hugh Bonner (they were both reportedly too busy to notice her green eyes riveted on them).

Back at headquarters, Tootsy got a reprimand from Captain Farrell. From that day on, she obeyed his orders and stayed at the firehouse with her mother to care for her younger siblings. To be sure, she still loved sliding down the brass pole, but she never rode to another fire.

I don’t know when she died, but if she passed before 1904, it must have been a sad day for the firemen. As one reporter noted in 1896: “When Tootsy dies there will be sorrow of the genuine kind in the engine house of No. 27.”

A Fatal Fire for Engine Company 27

 Brooklyn Daily Eagle, March 26, 1904
Brooklyn Daily Eagle, March 26, 1904

If Tootsy did not die before 1904, she would have been the one to know great sorrow.

On March 26, 1904, all of the men of Engine Company 27 were disabled and nine men were sent to the hospital in critical condition after falling unconscious during a fire at Charles Plunkett’s broom factory at 205 Duane Street. The factory occupied four floors and the basement of the five-story building. Chemicals used to make the brooms created the lethal fumes.

According to a report of the incident in the Evening World, by the time a second fire company responded, the men of Engine Company 27 were all inside, unconscious or dead. “As they climbed through the smoke from the windows they were overcome and fell insensible into the arms of their comrades, who waited on the street to catch them as they fell.”

Only 30-year-old fireman Thomas McGirr was pulled out alive, but he was not expected to survive. McGirr was at that time the only original member of the company, “all of his old comrades having met death in the past three years.”

A Brief History of Engine Company No. 27

The Metropolitan Steam Engine Company No. 27 was organized on October 16, 1865. Prior to transitioning to the paid fire department, the engine company was known as North River Engine Company No. 30 under the city’s volunteer fire department.

Engine Company No. 27 in 1905. Museum of the City of New York
Engine Company No. 27 in 1905. Museum of the City of New York

North River was organized on July 15, 1858, by B.F. Grant, William F. Searing, William McGrew, and other volunteers from Eureka Hose Company No. 54. The company was originally headquartered at 153 Franklin Street, but in June 1861 the company moved into a three-story brick house at 173 Franklin Street, which the city had purchased from Andrew Clarke and his wife for $12,500.

The Engine Co. 27 firehouse at 173 Franklin Street (middle), erected in 1882, was designed by Napolean Le Brun & Son
The former Engine Co. 27 firehouse at 173 Franklin Street, erected in 1882 and designed by Napolean Le Brun & Son

The men continued to occupy the old North River firehouse at 173 Franklin Street until May 1881, which is when the city began accepting proposals to erect a new firehouse at the same location. The firemen relocated to 304 Washington Street while Napoleon LeBrun & Son, the fire department’s official architect from 1879 to 1895, designed their new home.

Napoleon Eugene Henry Charles LeBrun and his son Pierre followed their traditional firehouse layout, which included centered bay doors set within a cast-iron base and two upper floors faced in red brick and trimmed in terra-cotta and stone.

The building was decommissioned as a firehouse when the engine company disbanded on November 22, 1975, and was reverted to a welding shop soon thereafter. However, some of features that date back to the days of Tootsy’s sovereignty remain, including an embellished iron lintel over the apparatus entrance, several wood sash windows, and a foliate frieze above the third-story windows.

If you enjoyed this story, you may enjoy reading about the three little kittens the men of Engine Company No. 27 rescued in 1928.

Cat Men of Gotham: Tales of Feline Friendships in Old New York

Tootsy is one of the many cats featured in The Cat Men of Gotham: Tales of Feline Friendships in Old New York. If you are interested in obtaining an autographed copy of the book, please contact me at pgavan@optonline.net.

Second Annual New York City Work Horse Parade, May 30, 1908. Library of Congress
Second Annual New York City Workhorse Parade, May 30, 1908. Library of Congress

The horses that won prizes were real horses, horses that earn their keep and are not ashamed to do a day’s work. Automobiles run us out? Well, I guess not. Who ever saw an automobile get a blue ribbon for seventeen years service in pulling loads?”–New York Sun article about the Workhorse Parade, May 31, 1907

On May 30, 1907, nearly 1,000 work horses who carted produce and lumber and garbage and firefighting equipment and prisoners finally had their day in the sun—and a chance to shine for the people of New York City. For on this Memorial Day, they were all invited to participate in the first annual New York City Workhorse Parade.

The parade, organized by the Women’s Auxiliary of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA), was based on the successful work horse parades in London and Boston, in which horses and their drivers won cash prizes and ribbons. The main purpose of the event was to incentivize owners and drivers to provide their horses with quality care and treatment. In other words, as Mrs. Minnie Cadwalader Rawles Jones noted, “to show men that it pays to treat their horses well.” 

The Workhorse Parade in 1911. Museum of the City of New York

Mrs. Cadwalader Jones explained that although all work horses were invited to participate–including the teams of horses used in the fire, police, correction, and sanitation departments–the parade was intended to showcase the one-horse men, the small expressmen, the junkmen, the small market men, etc., who owned only one horse and perhaps drove it themselves. She acknowledged that these work horses were apt to be older horses that were “picked up for a song” and were often poorly treated and neglected.

The high-society ladies of the Women’s Auxiliary hoped the drivers would be anxious to keep their horses in good shape so they could win a monetary prize every year.

The Workhorse Parade

For four hours, close to 1,000 horses and their glittering, newly painted wagons rivetted the attention of 100,000 persons who packed Fifth Avenue from Washington Square to the reviewing stand at the Worth Monument at 25th Street. In the viewing stand were numerous dignitaries including Mr. and Mrs. James Speyer, Henry Bergh, Mr. and Mrs. Gordon Knox Bell, Miss Mabel Clark, Miss Marie Winthrop, Cortlandt Van Rensselaer, and other upper-crust members of the equestrian world.

Following the parade, lunch for the men and their horses was served at the ASPCA headquarters at Madison Avenue and 26th Street.

The Parade Reviewing Stand, Library of Congress
The Reviewing Stand at the Workhorse Parade. Library of Congress

There were prizes for 47 classes, demonstrating the huge role work horses played in keeping Old New York up and running. The classes included four- and three-horse teams; brewers; lumber and box dealers; coal dealers; ice, hay and grain dealers; milk and cream men; grocers; fish and oyster men, butchers and poultry men; mineral water dealers; truckmen; confectionery men; plumbers, masons, iron and steel workers; produce; furniture; express companies; department stores; light delivery wagons; wines and liquors; laundries; paper men; and manufacturers.

More than 150 cash prizes were awarded to the drivers: $10 for first place, $5 for second, and $2.50 for third. Horses and their owners received ribbons or medals. Mrs. Ellin Prince Speyer, wife of railroad banker James Speyer and founder of the Women’s Auxiliary of the ASPCA (1906), also contributed silver medals for the winners of the classes from the city departments and the ASPCA.

Truck 8 Captain James J. Caberly (not Farley) took third prize (not first) at the Workhorse Parade in 1907.
Truck 8 Captain James J. Caberly (not Farley) took third prize (not first) at the Work Horse Parade in 1907.According to the New York Sun, Truck 8 Captain James J. Caberly (not Farley) took third prize (not first) at the Work Horse Parade in 1907. Museum of the City of New York
In 1907, second prize went to a three-horse team driven by fireman John L. Roth of Engine Company No. 33 from Great Jones Street. The medal was presented by Mrs. Speyer. Courtesy: Ed Sere (ret. Lt. FDNY)
In 1907, second prize went to a three-horse team driven by fireman John L. Roth of Engine Company No. 33 on Great Jones Street. The medal was presented by Mrs. Speyer. Courtesy: Ed Sere (ret. Lt. FDNY)

The Winning Horses

For the fire department teams, first-prize went to the horses driven by Michael V. Corbett of the tender for Engine 33, second prize went to a three-horse team driven by John Roth of Engine 33, and third prize went to Captain James J. Caberly of Truck 8 on North Moore Street.

First place among the police department horses was 17-year-old Frank, who had been in the police department for 10 years and was ridden by Patrolman John Schofield of the Traffic Squad (Frank also won again in 1914).

Traffic Squad Patrolman Otto Walsh, riding 12-year-old Shamrock, took second place (Shamrock also won a medal in 1914), and David N. Wilber took third place riding Irish Lad, the former horse of Captain George W. McClusky.

Frank and his rider Patrolman John Schofield of the Traffic Squad took first place in the police class at the first annual Work Horse Parade.
Frank and his rider Patrolman John Schofield of the Traffic Squad took first place in the police class at the first annual Workhorse Parade.

Other city department workhorses that won prizes included the horses of Edward Thompson of the Department of Correction’s “Red Maria”; Thomas Coughlin of the Bellevue ambulance (Mrs. Speyer told him that if she ever needed an ambulance, she hoped he would be the driver); John Ferguson of the Department of Street Cleaning dump cart; and John Frawley of the New York Parks Department water wagon.

There were even monetary prizes for old men and old horses. The oldest driver prize went to Abner Miller Dexter, who had driving for the United States Express Company for 49 years. Charlie, a 22-year-old truck horse at the R.E. Dietz Company stables with 17 years of service, won first prize in the old horses class. His stall mate, Eddie, who’d been pulling a wagon for 15 years, won first place in the manufacturer’s class.

The Obstacle Course

One of the highlights of the event was an obstacle course for all four-horse teams and upward, in which the men had to steer their teams in and out and around banana crates and barrels. The prize was their name engraved on a loving cup donated by Mrs. Speyer; a driver had to win the event three times in order to be able to keep the cup.

he obstacle course at the Work Horse Parade.
The obstacle course at the Work Horse Parade, Fifth Avenue between 24th and 25th Streets. Library of Congress

Possibly due to the lack of great prizes, only two men entered the contest in 1907. According to the New York Tribune, the contest was won by Brooklyn resident Matthew M. Sullivan, “perched on the quarterdeck of a white and gold truck of the Borden Condensed Milk Company, which looked as big as a battleship as it rumbled behind four squarely built grays that might have posed for Rosa Bonheur with full credit.”

Sullivan, described as a trim man with a waxed yellow mustache, had been with had been with the company for 21 years. Three times his horses did a “left face” and “right face” with military precision, easily maneuvering the obstacles in a slow trot and backing up to within inches of the judge’s stand. Sullivan’s horses also won a third prize in the four-in-hand class of the parade.

Matthew Sullivan with his winning horses in the obstacle course at the parade for the city's work horses.
Matthew Sullivan with his winning horses in the obstacle course at the Work Horse Parade. Library of Congress

On the losing end was Patrick Foley, who, according to the Tribune, “tooled a brilliant red wagon of the proportions of a freight car. It bore the name of the hay and feed company of Frank J. Lennon, and was whisked about by four iron gray Normans, any one of them worthy to have borne William at Hastings.” Foley’s horses also handled the obstacles with ease, but the prize went to Sullivan because his truck was bigger and heavier, and he drove his team in a trot the whole time.

The obstacle course was all the talk among the workmen in the West Street saloons that day. As workman Marty O’Hare told the press, “It beat the Ben-Hur chariot race all hollow.”

Work Horse Parade, [showing Anheuser Busch team], obstacle test, [New York]
Horses line up for the obstacle course at the Work Horse Parade in 1908. That year, it looks like Matthew Sullivan had more competition, including a team from Anheuser-Busch. Library of Congress

The Last Workhorse Parade

The last Workhorse Parade appears to have taken place in 1914. By then, the event was being sponsored by the New York Women’s League for Animals, which was founded by Mrs. Speyer in 1910 as an offshoot of the Women’s Auxiliary.

That year, life-saving medals were also awarded to several canine heroes: Trixie, a Japanese spaniel belonging to James Harcourt, received a medal for waking her mistress using her sharp little paws during a house fire. Bum, the Twelfth Precinct police dog, won a lifesaving medal for tearing off the burning clothes on a child; Great Dane police dog Jim, owned by H.T. Galpin, was awarded for saving his master’s life; and Olaf Hansen’s Newfoundland, Teddy, was recognized for saving two people from drowning in the Hudson River. 

Trixie, a Japanese spaniel belonging to James Harcourt, joined the reviewing stand to help greet the other dogs that passed by with their teams during a parade for work horse, 1914.
Trixie, a Japanese spaniel belonging to James Harcourt, joined the reviewing stand to help greet the other dogs that passed by with their teams during the last Workhorse Parade. New York Times, May 31, 1914

Can curiosity really kill a cat that easily if a cat has nine lives? What if curiosity almost kills a cat; how many lives does the cat still have left? The following tale about a cat that sailed from England to New York on the RMS Aquitania shows that curiosity doesn’t always kill; and perhaps, some cats have more than nine lives.

The poor kitten spent 8 days without food and water in a sealed mail sack on board the RMS Aquitania, which sailed from England to New York in December 1922.
The poor kitten spent 8 days without food and water in a sealed mail sack on board the RMS Aquitania, which sailed from England to New York in December 1920. Brooklyn Daily Eagle, January 2, 1921

On Saturday, December 11, 1920, employees at the New York General Post Office got a big surprise while opening some mail delivered to the United States from England via the steamship RMS Aquitania. Inside one sealed mail sack was a small male kitten.

According to the press, the gray tabby kitten must have been curious and found his way into the mail sack in Manchester, England, on December 3. The bag was placed in the ship’s mail hold with 6,100 other mail sacks and forgotten for eight days.

Every day that the kitten was in the mail sack without food and water, he lost one cat life.

When the Aquitania arrived in New York that Saturday morning, all of the mail bags were loaded onto the pier. A workman noticed a slight movement in the bag and began yelling. “Help! Murder! A bomb!” All the men on the pier ran for their lives in complete panic.

After the frightened men calmed down, one of the workers approached the mail sack and loaded it onto a truck. The package was rushed to New York’s General Post Office on 8th Avenue at 33rd Street.

RMS Aquitania
The Cunard liner Aquitania, built by John Brown & Company, Ltd., arrived in New York on June 5, 1914, on her maiden voyage. The ship accommodated 618 first-class, 614 second-class, and 1,998 third-class passengers, with a crew of 972. The ship was often referred to as Royal Mail Ship (RMS) Aquitania because it also carried mail.

After opening the bag, the employees watched in amazement as the kitten jumped out and staggered across the room. He made his way to a radiator, where he stood shivering and chewing on a piece of paper that he had carried from the mail sack.

The kitten was weak and pale and emaciated. Having gone eight days without food and water, the poor little thing was barely alive. There was no address and no stamps on the feline package, so the men surmised he was a stowaway who had somehow gotten into the mail sack.

In 1937, a white kitten adopted in France got to travel in style about the Aquitania with his new cat mom, Miss Doreas Wood of Springfield, Massachusetts. Miss Wood told the press that the kitten, who could purr in French, was the gift of an admirer in Paris.
In 1937, a white kitten adopted in France got to travel in first-class style about the Aquitania with his new cat mom, Miss Doreas Wood of Springfield, Massachusetts. Miss Wood told the press that the kitten, who could purr in French, was the gift of an admirer in Paris.

The employees purchased a bottle of milk and brought him into the fireroom (perhaps the boiler room) to get warm. Soon, the kitten began eating solid foods and putting on weight. The postal employees adopted the kitten, signed him up for a civil service position as a mouser on the feline police squad, and named him Kelly.

It was later discovered that the paper Kelly had been chewing was the fragment of a love letter. The “scientists” among the postal employees believed that the kitten’s life was saved by this letter. Their reasoning: it was a well-known scientific fact that love letters contain more calories than all the beefsteak and milk in the world.

The Éamon De Valera Mystery

Although many newspapers across the country picked up the story of Kelly the cat, the feline’s tale was upstaged by the story of another reported passenger on the ship’s return trip to England.

When the RMS Aquitania left New York on December 12, reports immediately began circulating that Éamon De Valera, president of the Sinn Fein Irish Republic, was among the passengers on the ship. It was surmised that De Valera was a stowaway, possibly working as a fireman or stoker or otherwise disguised.

Éamon de Valera.jpg

Cunard officials quickly denied the rumors that De Valera was a passenger, but they admitted he could have been a stowaway on the ocean liner.

Those in the Irish circles believed that if he was on the ship, he would not disembark in England, where he would be immediately arrested. He would instead get off on French soil, so to speak.

So, police in Cherbourg were extra vigilant in checking the passports of all 700 passengers getting off at that port.

Harry Boland, secretary to De Valera, said rumors that the political leader was on the ship were “a joke,” and that he was still in New York and preparing to continue his speaking tour in the United States.

Boland’s statement was apparently also a joke. A week after Christmas, on December 31, Boland announced that De Valera had arrived safely back in Ireland.

Boland said it would be treason for him to disclose how his boss left the country and made it to Ireland, but he intimated that he sailed from a United States port. “Just say he went over on the Irish presidential yacht,” Boland told the press.

As one newspaper noted, “The public may never know how De Valera managed to reach Ireland.” Maybe somebody should have checked all the mail sacks on the Aquitania on its return trip to England…

Eamon de Valera (center) met with members of the Friends of Irish Freedom at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.
In June 1919, de Valera (center) met with members of the Friends of Irish Freedom at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. A native New Yorker, de Valera wanted to “tell the world the prospect for Irish freedom” and to appeal to America to stand by the Irish republic and recognize it before the world. Also pictured are Diarmuid Lynch, Justice Hendricks,, J.W. Goff, Judge Daniel Cohalan, John Devoy, and Justice Edward James Gavegan.
Following her two-day adventure, Betty posed with one of her kittens on the Lackawanna Limited train at Hoboken, NJ.
Following her two-day adventure, Betty posed with one of her kittens on the Lackawanna Limited train at Hoboken, NJ. New York Daily News

On January 8, 1933, Betty, chief mouser of the Lackawanna Terminal at Hoboken, NJ, hitched a train ride on the Lackawanna Limited to Dover, N.J. It was her first train trip since joining the crew at Hoboken four or five years earlier.

The story of Betty’s train adventure was covered in all the New York-New Jersey metro area newspapers and in papers as far away as California and Miami.

As the Miami Herald noted, Betty not only had a weekend adventure “the like of which few cats are privileged to experience,” she also disrupted the entire Lacakwanna Railroad system with her feline antics.

“Betty’s a different kind of cat,” station-master Henry Byrnes explained to the press. “I don’t understand her acting up like this, without warning. I guess she got a touch of that old itching foot, like most humans get sometimes.”

Betty’s Adventure on the Lacakawanna Limited

According to the story, Betty chose the Lackawanna Limited, the crack daylight train to Buffalo, for her excursion. Leaving her two kittens behind, she sauntered past gateman Al Brody and jumped on the forward truck of the fourth coach like a seasoned hobo. (The truck is the structure in which the train’s axles and wheels were attached).

Unlike Commissioner, the police cat that jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge and took a train to Utica, New York, in 1907, Betty didn’t quite make it that far.

Lackawanna Limited train
Betty chose the Lackawwana Limited (later called the Phoebe Snow), which traveled from Hoboken to Buffalo via stops in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. She made it to the fourth stop in Dover, NJ, perched precariously on the trucks beneath the day coach.

Thirteen minutes later, the baggage men at Newark completely missed her as they loaded the train. The train then sped passed Morristown, where, at 11:07 a.m., a baggage man saw a bundle of gray fur curled up on the forward truck, a few trains behind the locomotive.

The Morristown crew telegraphed ahead to Dover to let them know that the train had a stowaway. Dover was a flag stop for the Lackawanna Limited, meaning if there were no passengers, the train would keep speeding westward. On this day, baggage man Frank Batson raised the flag and the train rolled to a stop, 37 miles from Hoboken.

After a quick search, Batson found Betty, her whiskers pushed back a bit by the high winds and her fur a bit ruffled, but otherwise as calm as can be. According to her rescuers, she looked content and ready to continue her voyage.

Betty’s composure changed when the men tried to grab her. “You wouldn’t have known her for the quiet, respectable cat she was around her home station,” the men told the press. “She put her back up, took a hold on the truck with her claws and spit, most disrespectful. Then she hopped off the train and ran away.”

Lackawanna Station in Dover, N.J.,
Betty made it as far as the Lackawanna Station in Dover, N.J., pictured here in 1907.

When news of Betty’s escape reached station-master Henry Byrnes in Hoboken, he frantically called for help. Off-duty trainmen were notified to join in the search, as were the Dover police. All that night, the men searched the Dover yards with lanterns.

Two days later, the men found Betty in a nearby lumberyard. When the No. 6 train from Chicago came through, the train was flagged down to take a passenger. The conductor and porters jumped off, ready to assist the passenger with his or her baggage.

“Great snakes!” the conductor shouted as Betty was placed in his care. The hobo mouser returned to Hoboken in the baggage compartment.

When Betty returned back home, the men held a grand reception for her. Al Brody, the gateman who let the cat pass him on Sunday morning, said he felt very bad about failing to spot her.

Lackawanna Terminal, Hoboken
Betty was the chief mouser of the Lacakwanna Terminal, aka the Hoboken Terminal, pictured here in 1907, the year the terminal was constructed for the Delaware, Lackawanna & Western railroad. The site of the terminal has been used since colonial times to link Manhattan Island and points west. Colonel John C. Stevens of Revolutionary War fame started the first steam-powered ferry service from here to New York City in 1811.

“If she were a kitten with flighty ideas, you might explain it just that way,” Brody said. “But you take a cat that’s been a widow eight times, like she has, and try to figure it out, and you’ll have to sit up nights and maybe get a tower job with plenty of time for thinkin’, and still get nowhere.”

The press had a lot of fun with Betty’s story. One newspaper suggested the much-married cat galivanted off to Buffalo to visit a boyfriend, who had sent her a cat-o-gram. Thinking she was an employee of the railroad and thus entitled to ride the rails for free, she put on her fur coat and boarded the train.

Another newspaper said that perhaps Betty ran away because she had been wed too many times. She was tired of caring for kittens year after year, and was in search of an adventure all on her own.

Station-master Byrnes came up with his own reason for Betty’s antics. He surmised that the cat was upset that she didn’t get her usual turkey meal on Sunday morning, because the restaurant at the Lackawanna terminal was closed. She may have decided to jump on the train in search of an open eating establishment.

Whatever her motive was, that evening the one-time hobo cat received a turkey dinner fit for a railroad magnate.

The Lackawanna Limited

The Lackawanna Limited" pulls into Slateford Junction, Pennsylvania
The Lackawanna Limited” at Slateford Junction, Pennsylvania. As one railway employee noted, the train offered speed, comfort, safety, beautiful scenery, and excellent food. Poor Betty the cat only experienced the speed.

With its modern equipment and convenient schedules, the Lackawanna Limited was one of America’s most famous trains. It operated daily from New York and through the Pocono Mountains to Buffalo, with through trains to Cleveland and Chicago.

The Lackawanna Limited made its first run in 1899. Rail travelers were very impressed with the scenery as well as the train’s speed: On its initial run, the train made the 410-mile trip in eight hours.

In 1949, the Lackawanna began modernizing its mainline passenger diesel-powered coaches. The Lackawanna Limited was modernized and renamed the Phoebe Snow, which ran for 11 years as a DL&W train and then as an Erie Lackawanna train from 1963 until November 1966. 

Sadly, the Lackawanna Limited is most remembered now for a deadly crash that took place on August 30, 1943. That day, the Lackawanna Limited No. 3 crashed into a freight train in Steuben County, New York, killing 29 of the 500 passengers aboard. A little girl named Betty Andrews, age 9, was one of the youngest of the fatalities on that day.

Lackawanna Limited train wreck, August 30, 1943. Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph
Lackawanna Limited train wreck, August 30, 1943. Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph

A resident of Camp Thomas Paine with pet pigs Herbert Hoover and Andy Mellon.
A resident of Camp Thomas Paine with pet pigs Herbert Hoover and Andy Mellon. The pigs were two of many animals that lived at the colony. They were eventually sold to a farmer to raise funds for the colony’s communal bank account. New York Daily News

The following story explores Camp Thomas Paine in Riverside Park, one of the many Depression-era Hoovervilles (aka tent cities or shanty towns) that proliferated public parks in New York City in the 1930s.

This story is more than a simple tale about two pet pigs that lived among the 125 men at Camp Thomas Paine. It is a story about a fascinating commune of WWI veterans who thought out of the box, so to speak, to survive in 52 makeshift shacks along the Hudson River from 1932 to 1934.

And it is, in part, a commentary on a sad and shameful period in our country’s history.

Some of the Camp Thomas Paine shanties that lined the river along Riverside Drive from 72nd to 79th Street.
Some of the Camp Thomas Paine shanties that lined the river along a scenic backdrop of residences for the more affluent on Riverside Drive from 72nd to 79th Street. New York Public Library

The Resourceful Beginnings of Camp Thomas Paine

In August 1934, an auction took place at Patrick Joseph Cain’s theatrical storage warehouse at 530 West 41st Street. Described as a “red-brick mausoleum,” Cain’s warehouse was the final resting place of all Broadway shows, good and bad.

About 100 people attended the auction, in search of West Point uniforms, boxes of humming bird dress ornaments, Japanese trees made of shells, three large mechanical elephants, a mechanical cow used by W.C. Fields, a saddle that Will Rogers used on a prop horse, and photographs of famous Broadway stars. All of these items had been featured in a series of elaborate theatrical revue productions on Broadway called the Ziegfeld Follies.

Noticeably missing from the auction was the scenery once used on the stages to prop up the famous chorus girls known as the Ziegfeld Girls. According to the press, the canvas sets and lumber had all found its way to Riverside Park two years earlier, in August 1932, where it was used to construct some of the shanties and other structures for the veterans who founded Camp Thomas Paine.

Ziegfeld's Broadway Productions
Lumber and canvas sets from the elaborate Ziegfeld Follies stage sets were used to build some of the frame shanties at Camp Thomas Paine.

Using the stage lumber was one of the many ways the down-and-out men demonstrated their resourcefulness. By the time the veterans were evicted from the colony in May 1934, they had established a large garden, a mess hall with a communal kitchen and cook stove, and a rec hall with a stone fireplace. They also received a faucet for running water and street lamps from the city, and set up a savings account at the Corn Exchange Bank.

From the Anacostia Flats to Riverside Park

Camp Thomas Paine was founded by 75 jobless World War I veterans who had previously taken part in a large group of suffering and desperate vets called the Bonus Expeditionary Forces (BEF). The goal of the of the BEF was to get a government-promised bonus payment of $1 a day immediately, rather than wait until 1945, as the federal Bonus Act stipulated.

Led by Walter W. Walters, the veterans occupied camps and buildings in several locations in the District of Columbia from May to July 1932.

On July 28, 1932, Attorney General William Mitchell ordered the DC police to remove the veterans from government property. Although the men had an ally in Brigadier General Pelham D. Glassford–now superintendent of the DC police–they could not beat General Douglas MacArthur, Major Dwight D. Eisenhower, and Major George S. Patton.

Once these top military men received orders from President Herbert Hoover to shut down the camps, the Army troops advanced with tanks, bayonets, and tear gas to drive the men out and across the bridge.

The Bonus Expeditionary Forces camp on Anacostia Flats, Washington, DC. Library of Congress
The largest BEF camp was this shantytown on the Anacostia Flats, across the river from Washington’s Navy Yard. Library of Congress

The Washington Daily News called the military ambush “A pitiful spectacle” to witness “the mightiest government in the world chasing unarmed men, women, and children with Army tanks. If the Army must be called out to make war on unarmed citizens, this is no longer America.”

Having been driven from their camps in the nation’s capital, 75 men headed north to New York City to set up Camp Thomas Paine. They named the main “road” through their colony Glassford Avenue in honor of the DC police superintendent. Each shack was given a numbered address and christened with comical names such as Grand Hotel, Rain Inn, and The House That Jack Built.

Camp Thomas Paine shacks
The men numbered their wood and tin shacks on Glassford Avenue, named them, and spruced them up with rock gardens and patches of grass. NYPL

Commander John B. Clark

John B. Clark, Commander of Camp Thomas Paine
Commander John B. Clark

The chosen leader of the camp was Commander John B. Clark, who ran the commune like a military facility.

Only men with an honorable discharge were allowed, and they all had to abide by military discipline. The men took turns doing guard duty, and no liquor (not even beer), women, or children were permitted in the camp. Violators of camp rules were expelled.

For two years, as many as 125 war veterans of multiple races and nationalities lived and worked in harmony. They carried barrels of water into the camp for cooking and cleaning (until the city installed a faucet), collected driftwood from the river to burn in their fireplace, and gathered loam in wheelbarrows to create a vegetable garden where there was once only stones and cinders.

The men also built a rec hall that was paneled with partitions from a branch office of the failed Bank of United States. The hall also featured canvas sets from “A Night in Paris,” “Naughty Naughty,” “Three’s a Crowd,” and many other Broadway shows–all courtesy of Cain’s theatrical storage warehouse.

Bank of United States - Wikipedia
Crowds outside the Bank of United States when it failed in 1931. The bank run on the Bronx branch is said to have started the collapse of banking during the Great Depression. The men of Camp Thomas Paine used some of the lumber from one of the closed branches.
The rec hall at Camp Thomas Paine featured a large open fireplace, where in colder months the men would sit, read, smoke, chat, and play checkers. Daily News
The rec hall featured a large open fireplace, where in colder months the men would sit, read, smoke, chat, and play checkers. New York Daily News
Camp Thomas Paine resident Joseph Colombe

Life at Camp Thomas Paine

Although the men took pride in their independence and never begged on the streets, they weren’t too proud to accept charity. The Horn & Hardart company donated 24-hour-old baked goods to the camp every day. This allowed the men to eat pie twice a day, except on Mondays.

They also received bags of potatoes, onions, oysters, clams, and meat from community leader and activist Lewis S. Davidson, for whom the Lewis Davidson Houses in the Bronx are named. Jacob Klein, a lawyer, sent the men a $5 check every week. And their neighbor, Charles Schwab, sent the men excess produce from his farm in Pennsylvania.

An aerial view of Camp Thomas Paine along the Hudson River, 72nd to 79th Street, in 1933.
An aerial view of Camp Thomas Paine along the Hudson River, 72nd to 79th Street, in 1933. New York Daily News

While food was always available, the men did not have all they needed to fully live even a semi-comfortable life. There were very few coats for the men in the winter, and men’s suits were in short supply. The camp did not provide coal and kerosene, which the men needed to keep their shacks lighted and warm, and there was no facility for the men to take showers.

Sometimes the men would find odd jobs, such as shoveling snow, polishing automobiles, or scrapping newspapers and metal. They would turn in their money to the camp communal fund, which was kept in an account at the Corn Exchange Bank (at one point the account had about $105). Monies in this fund were used to purchase milk and sugar and other needed supplies.

If any man found a steady job, he was allowed to stay at the camp for one more week; he also had to contribute a third of his pay for that week. Then he was asked to move out to make room for someone less fortunate on the waiting list.

Charles M. Schwab house, Riverside Dr. at 74th St, New York City. Maurice  Hebert, architect.
Charles H. Schwab, who lived across the street from Camp Thomas Paine at 73rd-74th Streets, paid the men 50 cents an hour plus hot meals to shovel his property in winter.

The Pets of Camp Thomas Paine

One of the most unusual elements of the settlement was the corral filled with pet animals, including the two pigs and dozens of rabbits, turkeys, ducks, and chickens. (As The New York Times noted, the camp was a sanctuary for every living thing that was an outcast, miserable, or unwanted.)

These animals, for the most part, were the men’s pets. Commander Clark told a reporter, “Nothing that enters this camp alive will ever be killed.”

The pigs–Andy Mellon and Herbert Hoover–were a gift from the Veterans of Foreign Wars. At first, the men intended to eat the pigs. But the pigs were so friendly–they would follow the men around like pets dogs would do–they didn’t have the heart to kill their new companions.

Clark told one reporter, “They’re eating what’s left of our food. But they have become our pets; if we killed them the boys couldn’t eat them. If we sell them someone else will eat them.”

They eventually sold the pigs to a farmer for $5. The men later learned that either Mellon or Hoover was not properly named, as one had given birth to several piglets.

By the spring of 1933, the camp had three pet turkeys and two ducks, which swam in an old iron sink that was sunk in the ground. They also received three rabbits, which turned into 24 rabbits a few months later.

One of the bunnies was the gift of a little boy who had received the rabbit as a present for Easter. His family wouldn’t let him keep it in the house, so he brought it to the camp so the men could care for it.

Camp Thomas Paine
New York Public Library
Many of the men moved out in the summer because, as the Daily News noted, “summer was worse than winter in a place like that. In Winter two men can crowd into a little box and keep warm, but the Summer heat will make such crowding a torture.” NYPL

In addition to the barnyard animals, there was at least one domesticated dog and one cat that lived at Camp Thomas Paine.

According to The New York Times, a Philippine veteran named Estanasiao Labo had a fox terrier and a gray cat that had a “curious smudge” on its nose. Labo reportedly spent a lot of time sprucing up his shack for the holiday season; when a reporter came to visit, the dog was lying in front of his door and the cat was snoozing on a pile of boards. Commander Clark told the reporter, “Yes, I think the happiest man would be Labo.”

Robert Moses and the Demise of Camp Thomas Paine

Camp Thomas Paine
New York Daily News, May 1, 1934
New York Daily News, May 1, 1934. Eight days prior, the men burned eight of the shacks during a farewell party.

In April 1934, Parks Commissioner Robert Moses ordered Camp Thomas Paine be vacated by May 1 so that the land below the New York Central railroad tracks could be improved by the Park Department. Lewis S. Davidson attempted to have the eviction postponed, or to at least obtain other unused park space for the colony in order to keep the men together.

On April 30, the Board of Aldermen passed a resolution censoring Moses for ordering the eviction. Fusionist Alderman Lambert Fairchild charged Moses with favoring “steam-shovel” government, stating that by destroying the veteran’s colony, the commissioner “was wiping out a most interesting development that has earned the approval of a distinguished neighbor and one of the best fellows in my district, Charles M. Schwab.”

Moses scoffed at the resolution, calling it “just cheap politics.” He said, “I don’t take their action seriously. How can we progress on the West Side Improvement without removing all encroachment along the river?” 

Off to Camp LaGuardia at Greycourt

On May 1, 1934, 200 homeless men left in five buses from the Department of Welfare offices for Greycourt, New York. There, they would become farmers at a new city farm colony for unemployed men.

Eight of the men on these buses were former residents of Camp Thomas Paine, who had all expressed an interest in farm living. (Most of the veterans told the press that they did not apply for the colony, because they had once been white-collar professionals and were not cut out to be farmers.)

The main building at the city farm colony, one of about a dozen brick buildings near the Greycourt railroad depot in Orange County that had served as a women's prison until 1934.
The main building at the Greycourt farm colony. Built by New York City in 1918, and located about 55 miles northwest of Manhattan, the site had served as a women’s prison until 1934, when it was turned over to the city’s welfare department. New York Daily News

The chosen men, all between the ages of 25 and 45, would be responsible for preparing the land for the thousands of homeless and unemployed men to follow. It was expected that 500 men would be living on the farm by the end of May 1934, but the colony could accommodate over 1,000 residents.

In 1935, the city farm colony was renamed Camp LaGuardia for New York City’s Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia. It remained a shelter for the city’s homeless men for over 70 years.

In addition to over 200 acres of farmland, the colony at Greycourt had 400 pigs. Unfortunately for these pigs, they were not pets like those at Camp Thomas Paine.

Shut down in 2007 under Mayor Michael Bloomberg and purchased by Orange County for $8.2 million, the old Camp LaGuardia remains vacant. Several bidders have taken interest in the property; a team of prospective buyers recently bid $1.2 million, with plans to create a hotel, housing for artisans and athletes, and a sports dome on the 258-acre property.

For now, I will think of the veterans of Camp Thomas Paine and their pet pigs whenever I pass by the remnants of Camp LaGuardia while walking with my mom on the nearby Orange County Heritage Trail.

Aerial view of the former Camp LaGuardia adjacent to the Heritage Rail Trail.
Aerial view of the former Camp LaGuardia adjacent to the Heritage Rail Trail.