Animal Stories That Made the Holiday Headlines in Jolly Old New York
Tuesday, December 8, 2020 12-1 p.m. (ET)
Take a virtual sleigh ride back in time as I take you over the river and through the woods to Christmas past in jolly Old New York. Explore some of the city’s timeless holiday traditions via fun and amazing animal stories that made the headlines in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Hear about:
* The penguins and sea lions that frolicked in the Prometheus Fountain * The Christmas kittens born in the Dewey Arch on Fifth Avenue * The Bronx Zoo reindeer delivered by crane to Rockefeller Center * The animal balloons that crashed into planes at the Macy’s Parade * The holiday rush on Angora cats at Wanamaker’s Dry Goods Store * The annual yuletide event “to celebrate all good dogs, cats, and horses” * The horses that delivered America’s first public Christmas tree * And a holiday kitten shipped to Yorkville by parcel-post-delivery
Reindeer delivered by crane at Rockefeller Center
Hosted by Untapped New York. Jolly good fun for animal lovers and history fans alike!
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Bill, champion mouser of the Flatbush Branch of the Brooklyn Post Office; Brooklyn Times Union
On August 1, 1922, employees of the Flatbush post office sent out a BOLO (be on the lookout) alarm for their chief mouser, Bill. Described as a big, fluffy Maltese cat, Bill was responsible for keeping all the mice and rats in check at the post office.
He was also the beloved pet of the more than 100 employees on the postal staff.
Unlike the postal police cats of the General Post Office in Manhattan, who worked together in large groups, Bill preferred to work alone at the Flatbush sub-station of the Brooklyn Post Office. In fact, he worked just as hard to keep other cats away as he did to keep the mice at bay.
In other words, he got into a lot of cat fights with other felines hoping to steal his government civil service job.
Always victorious in these fights, Bill would often seek a quieter place to hang out for a while until his hot temper cooled down. Even when he disappeared for a few days to chill out, the gray cat always came back to the Flatbush post office.
But this time, he didn’t come back for many weeks.
Unlike New York City’s Post Office cats, who were featured in a news article in 1898, Bill did not work with any other cats at the Flatbush Post Office. He was a lone mouser.
Postal Clerk William Kuek, who was Bill’s main caretaker (and perhaps, namesake), told the Brooklyn Times Union, “If anyone sees a gray Maltese with a fighting disposition and a string of jingling bells around his neck,” they should let him know. Kuek also said he was almost certain the cat would return once he learned of a new ruling on postal cats that had just been wired from Washington, D.C.
According to the ruling, postmasters would be able to provide meat at the government’s expense for their office cat. Kuek explained that it required a little stretching of the law to make it possible, but the cats were very valuable to the postal service, so the funds could be justified.
“Every dog has his day,” Kuek said, “and from this time on, ‘tabby’ cat is to have money-bought food, if he happens to be a post office guardian. It is held that the cat is a protector of the government from the ravages of rodent pests.”
Bill the Cat Comes Back
On August 18, 1922, the Brooklyn Times Union reported that Bill had finally returned to the Flatbush Post Office, “and the smile is back again on the faces of postal employees.”
Kuek told the newspaper that he would make sure Bill got his fair share of meat that the government now provided for postal cats. He said he hoped the daily serving of meat would keep Bill satisfied at the Flatbush post office, and that he would no longer run away after a cat fight.
From 1913 to 1924, the Flatbush Post Office occupied top floor of this building at 959-963 Flatbush Avenue, between Albemarle Road and Snyder Avenue, which was also home to the Flatbush Savings Bank at the time. This is where Bill the cat was employed in 1922.
I have a feeling the prospect of a good daily meal led to many more fights with cats that wanted Bill’s job, but hopefully Bill had a long career with the Flatbush Post Office.
This concludes the story about Bill the post office cat of Flatbush. If you are interested in the history of Flatbush’s postal services, or want to learn more about the old post office where Bill lived and worked, continue reading. I had a lot of fun researching this history and finding dozens of tiny pieces to put the entire puzzle together.
An Epic History of the Flatbush Post Office
The history of the Flatbush post office begins with a rural postmaster named Michael Schoonmaker, who ran a grocery store and a roadside tavern and inn on Flatbush Avenue. It also features an enterprising stage coach operator named Colonel James C. Church, and an ambitious young letter carrier named John F. McCarthy.
Schoonmaker, the third postmaster of Flatbush (preceded by Abraham Van Deveer [1814] and John Leffers [1819]), collected and sorted mail for the farmers and other residents at his grocery store from 1829 to 1845. Church delivered the mail to the first Flatbush post office. And McCarthy spent many years as a letter carrier, eventually becoming the first superintendent for the Flatbush post office when the town was incorporated into the City of Brooklyn in 1895.
The Early Years of the Flatbush Post Office
In the early 19th century, before there was a post office in town, a Customs House clerk from East Flatbush named Cornelius Duryea picked up and delivered mail for Flatbush residents on his daily trips to the City of Brooklyn. The town’s first post office was established in the 1830s, when Colonel James C. Church started a daily mail-coach route between Fort Hamilton and Flatbush.
Church was the postmaster for the Fort Hamilton post office, which was located in his general store on the shores of the Narrows, at the foot of the State Lane (Fort Hamilton Avenue). His mail coach route ran through Bath Beach and along the King’s Highway to Flatbush, serving the post offices at Flatbush, New Utrecht, and Fort Hamilton. He also ran a passenger stage coach from Fort Hamilton to Fulton Ferry in the City of Brooklyn; the fare was 25 cents.
Colonel Church lived in this home on Fort Hamilton Avenue near 100th Street, which he built in 1843.
At this time, the Flatbush post office–which served all of Flatbush, Gravesend, and Canarsie–was located in the corner of Schoonmaker’s grocery store on Flatbush Avenue, across from the Reformed Dutch Church and adjacent to the Erasmus Hall Academy. The grocery store and post office were housed in a building that was described by The Chat newspaper as “a one-story and attic structure, with a porch extending across the front but a few inches above the sidewalk and protected with a roof.”
Schoonmaker’s grocery store was located across from the Reformed Dutch Church. His roadhouse tavern and inn occupied the Catherine Lott cottage (noted as C. Lott Est on this map). In the early 1900s, the cottage was occupied by Dr. G. Newtown Ferris. It was razed in 1917 to make way for the Flatbush Savings Bank.
Mail bags for collection and delivery to and from all parts of the world would be picked up and dropped off at Schoonmaker’s once a day via Church’s mail stagecoach. During the busy summer months, Church would make two daily mail trips.
When the mail arrived, Schoonmaker would leave his roadside tavern in the old Catherine Lott homestead and cross the street to his grocery store. There, he sorted the the incoming and outgoing mail. Since there was no house-to-house delivery, residents had to pick up their mail at Schoonmaker’s store or rely on neighbors or travelers to bring it to them.
If residents did not collect their mail, Schoonmaker would publish an ad in the newspaper, like the one below. It cost three cents to mail a letter from the post office.
The Long-Island Star, October 1832
Following Schoonmaker’s death in the 1840s, his wife took over the tavern and the postal job, becoming the first postmistress of Flatbush. In 1845, their son, Richard L. Schoonmaker, was appointed postmaster.
The following is from an article published in the Brooklyn Standard Union in December 1900 describing the daily mail delivery in the 1840s:
“At 9 A.M., with a loud blast of the horn and great prancing of steeds, the heavy mail coach, drawn by four horses, would rumble down the post road from New Utrecht [now Church Avenue], turn the corner by the old Dutch Church and draw up before the quaint old inn of the widow Schoonmaker.
The mailbag would be taken over to the post office, opposite the church, and its contents sorted by widow Schoonmaker, the postmistress. It was then flung up to the driver, who deposited it under the boot at the foot of his high seat, and with a loud snap of his long whip and a still louder blast of the bugle, the cumbrous vehicle would disappear in a cloud of dust down the turnpike, to return at 5 P.M.”
The Schoonmaker’s inn was located to the right of the former Lott residence at 920 Flatbush Avenue, pictured here in 1922. (The new Flatbush Savings Bank is just visible on the right). The Lott home was destroyed by fire in 1923 and demolished. NYPL Digital Collections
The Flatbush Presidential Post Office
In the later half of the 19th century, the Flatbush post office was operated as a Presidential post office. Presidential post offices served as a collection depot for mail, but there were no delivery services.
Each post office had a postmaster who sold stamps and money orders and sorted the mail for the customers’ collection boxes. Total annual revenue determined whether the post office would be classified as a first-, second-, third-, or fourth-class facility. The postmasters were appointed by the President of the United States; thus, if the president was a Republican, the postmaster and clerks would also be Republican.
Gilbert Hicks was Flatbush postmaster for six years.
Postmasters received a small salary from the government for their services, which was based on the classification. The classification system incentivized them to sell as many stamps and money orders as possible, but it sometimes led to grifting and other scandals.
Most postmasters had at least one other job, such as selling books, medicines, and stationery, or working as a shipping agent. As long as the post office was not too busy, they were able to work at both occupations in the same location.
During this time period, Flatbush had several postmasters, and each man operated the post office out of his own place of business. (One woman, Miss. Phebe J. Case, was postmaster from 1865 to 1870; there is no other published information about this woman.)
From 1876 to 1882, Gibert Hicks ran the post office from his two-story brick store on the corner of Flatbush and Clarkson Avenues. When Thomas Moorehead took over, he removed the post office to his store across from the Reformed Dutch Church (where the original post office at Schoonmaker’s had been.)
In 1884, Henry Paton was appointed postmaster. He moved the post office back to the intersection of Flatbush and Clarkson Avenues, where his family lived and ran a harness shop in a two-story brick building next to Hick’s store (the building was across the driveway that led to Hick’s stables, as noted on the map below.)
The post office was not in the harness shop proper, but in a one-story frame structure that was eventually detached from the harness shop. According to the Brooklyn Times Union, this building was so cramped, “it had barely room to swing a cat in.” Luckily, Bill the cat did not live and work in this building.
The Flatbush post office was located in several locations near the intersection of Flatbush and Clarkson Avenues, including Gilbert Hick’s two-story brick store, Henry Paton’s two-story harness shop, and the small frame building next to the harness shop, as noted on this E. Robinson map issued in 1890.
Because most residents of the town had to travel two or three miles to get their mail, there was much discussion during this time about implementing free delivery services. In the meantime, those who did not want to walk or ride into town had to rely on a young man named John McCarthy.
Flatbush Post Office Superintendent John McCarthy
John F. McCarthy, the first postal carrier and postmaster of Flatbush.
Born in the Town of Flatbush in 1868, John F. McCarthy received his early education at the school for boys at Holy Cross (present-day St. Gregory’s Academy on Church Avenue) in Flatbush. He then attended St. Francis Academy on Baltic Street. When he was just 16, his father, James, died, leaving John in charge of supporting himself and his mother, brother, and sister.
McCarthy’s first job was as a clerk at the Kings County penitentiary. To supplement his small income, he came up with an idea to deliver mail to the residents in the far reaches of Flatbush. He correctly assumed that many of his fellow rural residents would prefer having their mail delivered to their home every day rather than picking it up in town at the Flatbush post office.
The Brooklyn General Post Office was once located on Washington Street between Johnson Street and Myrtle Avenue, next to the 41st Precinct Station House and the Brooklyn Theatre (the theatre burned down in 1876). Look closely and you can see “Post Office” on the building. NYPL Digital Collections
McCarthy established his business with several hundred residents, who paid him two cents for every piece of mail delivered. It took him all day and night to pick up the mail from Brooklyn’s General Post Office on Washington Street (pictured at right) twice a day and deliver it to his customers–his route was extensive and the country roads were poor. But as Flatbush continued to grow, so did his business.
In 1895, McCarthy got a full-time job working as a clerk in the Flatbush post office, which was then under Democratic President Grover Cleveland. Five years later, in 1890, Charles H. Zelinsky was appointed postmaster of Flatbush by Republican President Benjamin Harrison. McCarthy, a Democrat, lost his good-paying job.
Fortunately, McCarthy had never given up his side job delivering mail to hundreds of paying customers. The money he earned from delivering mail was sufficient to support his widowed mother until he could secure another good postal job under a Democratic president.
Toward the end of 1893, the Democratic Association of Flatbush passed a resolution asking President Grover Cleveland to appoint McCarthy as postmaster of the Flatbush post office. The appointment was not needed: In 1894, when Flatbush was incorporated into the City of Brooklyn, the Flatbush post office became a sub-station of the Brooklyn General Post Office. The old Presidential postal system was finally replaced by a carrier station in Flatbush.
From 1894 to 1896, the Flatbush post office occupied this building at 805-811 Flatbush Avenue (the post office was in #809, which has the barber pole). This property was once owned by former postmaster Richard Schoonmaker in the late 1800s. Two doors down, at #805, was John H. Reis & Company, which also owned the row of brick buildings directly across the street. The frame buildings pictured here in 1922 were demolished in 1930 when Caton Avenue was extended. NYPL Digital Collections
Unlike the Presidential system, the carrier service fell under the Civil Service Commission and did not require political appointment or loyalty. It also replaced the position of postmaster with a superintendent. And, the new carrier system required something Flatbush did not yet have: numbered street addresses for private residences to make home delivery possible.
In March 1894, Brooklyn Postmaster Andrew T. Sullivan appointed McCarthy as superintendent of the new Flatbush sub-station, aka, Station F. Sullivan based his hiring decision not on politics but on the many endorsements the young man had received from the residents of the town. The new Station F post office at 809 Flatbush Avenue opened on March 1, 1894.
Mail delivery began on May 16, 1894, with six letter carriers reporting to McCarthy: Edward R. Burt, Michael Rutledge, Tom Easop, Harry Ahearn, Tom Burney, and Louis D. Ryno. They made four deliveries a day. (When he retired in 1920, Ryno estimated he had walked millions of miles delivering mail along his route from Lenox Road to Malbone Street and from Rogers to Albany Avenues.)
Sadly, McCarthy took gravely ill shortly after taking over the new post office. Although he realized that death was near, he continued working until he was too weak to leave his house.
On December 17, 1895, at the age of 28, McCarthy died of consumption in the home he shared with his mother on Nostrand Avenue. As the Brooklyn Times Union noted, “He was honest, honorable, and reliable in every respect. Those who knew him best loved him most. In his death the people of Flatbush has sustained a loss.”
Postmaster Richard Flannery
Richard A. Flannery, formerly a chief clerk of Station U on Fifth Avenue and 12th Street, was immediately appointed to fill McCarthy’s former $1,000-a-year position.
Under Flannery, with Flatbush experiencing exponential growth, the post office moved directly across the street into the second floor of the new, four-story Reis and Davenport building at 830 Flatbush Avenue, just south of Caton Avenue. That year, 1896, the number of carriers increased to nine, and the number of deliveries increased to five per day.
The Flatbush post office was in a 4-story brick building at 830 Flatbush Avenue (later renumbered #826), as noted on this 1905 Sanborn map. The building was owned by real estate developers John Reis and Henry Davenport.
Over the next few years, the post office was expanded two times (notice the rear extension to the building in the map above), more than doubling in size. It remained at this location until 1913.
From 1896 to 1913, the Flatbush post office occupied the second floor of the boarded-up building on the far left. The first floor was occupied by a store; the two top floors were occupied by apartments. The government paid $2,000 a month to rent the space. Here is the corner of Flatbush Avenue and Caton Avenue in 1929. The old post office building is just out of view on the far left.
In 1913, a new Flatbush Post Office was constructed on Flatbush Avenue between Snyder Avenue and Albemarle Road. The new facility shared the building with the Flatbush Savings Bank.
It was here that Bill the cat was working when he disappeared in 1922. During this time, William F. Costello was the superintendent. (Perhaps the superintendent was Bill’s namesake?)
The post office where Bill the cat lived and worked was above the Flatbush Bank at 959-965 Flatbush Avenue, as shown on this 1920 E.B. Hyde map. NYPL Digital Collections
Two years after Bill the cat disappeared and reappeared, the Flatbush Post Office moved one block east to a building at 2265 Bedford Avenue. The modern brick and limestone building was considered the nicest sub-station in Brooklyn, with 8,000 square feet of space on the first floor, plenty of ventilation, and lots of windows for selling stamps and money orders.
Hopefully, when the 108 employees moved into the new building on April 1, 1924, they took Bill the cat with them.
The new Flatbush post office at Snyder and Bedford Avenue, March 1924. Here is the same building as it looks today.
When the lease expired on this building in April 1934, the post office moved into a brick factory building on the southeast corner of Erasmus and Lott Streets. The problem with this temporary location was that the street was considered a “play street” for young boys. Patrons often complained that they could not get their vehicles down the street or that their car windows had been broken by batted base balls.
Young boys played ball and rode bikes on Erasmus Street, making it difficult for patrons to use the temporary Flatbush Post Office.
In August 1934, a new site at 2273 Church Avenue–previously occupied by an auto repair shop and a blacksmith, and then occupied by a used car lot–was selected for the next and current Flatbush Post Office. A dedication ceremony for the $140,000 facility took place on October 7, 1936.
Before there was a post office: 2271-2287 Church Avenue, showing Cain & McIntyre Auto Repair and Halliday’s Blacksmith shop, about 1922. New-York Historical Society2271-1187 Church Avenue in 1932, two years before the new Flatbush post office was constructed on the site. NYPL Digital Collections.
The new Flatbush post office on Church Avenue.
A dedication ceremony for the new, $140,000 post office took place on October 7, 1936.
During a recent virtual presentation, someone in the audience asked me how I discover the animal tales that I share on my website. I explained that I often stumble upon new stories by accident while doing research for another story. I was working on a story about Oliver Herford’s cat when I discovered this tale about a panther hunt at the Bronx Zoological Park (today’s Bronx Zoo) in 1902.
As I read the news article, which was published on July 29, 1902, I realized that this report was about Day 2 of the great panther hunt. In other words, I had stumbled upon the middle of the story.
So, I still had to do some research to find the beginning and the end of the panther hunt story. My husband will attest to my loud burst of laughter when I discovered how this panther story ended. It has something to do with a pool table. Stay with me; I think you’ll enjoy the tale.
Zoo keeper with a lariat, and the pine box from which the panther escaped. New-York Daily Tribune. July 29, 1902.
The Beginning of the Great Panther Hunt
On July 28, 1902, The New York Times reported that a seven-month-old, 45-pound, grey-brown panther had gnawed his way out of a large pine shipping box near the park’s Puma and Lynx House. It was the first time the captive cat–which had just been shipped via a Ward Line steamship from Mr. Charles Sheldon of the Mexican Zoological Society in Chihuahua to Director William Temple Hornaday of the New York Zoological Society–had ever experienced a taste of freedom.
William Temple Hornaday served as the first director of the New York Zoological Park, and was a pioneer in the early wildlife conservation movement in the United States.
One of the first things the cat did upon his escape was make his way toward a group of women and children who were having an early picnic lunch in the grass near the wild fowl pond. As they began running away, the panther leaped over their heads and landed about 20 feet from the ground in a chestnut tree. He then leapt to another tree deeper in the foliage, where he disappeared from sight.
Within minutes, everyone in the park had heard about the panther’s escape. News also spread to the adjoining Botanical Gardens, where about 2,000 people had gathered that day to hear an outdoor concert.
Zoo keepers, who were secretly alarmed by the panther’s escape, gathered up ropes, collars, and chains and set out to hunt for the young cat. Director Hornaday and curator Raymond Lee Ditmars gave orders for the zookeepers and the 10 men of the Bronx Park Police to capture the cat alive, and to inform all the patrons that the young cat was friendly and harmless.
Naturally, very few people in the two parks that day believed that the panther was harmless. Many families left their picnic blankets and baskets of food and ran for the closest shelter. According to the Times, the panther took advantage of this situation, devouring numerous sandwiches, an entire baked ham, and half a pie (he didn’t the pie too much).
The young panther could have been hiding anywhere. As Dr. Hornaday told the press, finding the panther in the park would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Click here to take a panoramic tour of the park in 1913. NYPL Digital Collections
The zookeepers were no match for the panther. Just as they closed in on him, he would leap into a tree or sprint through the woods. At one point, a group of men on the east side of the Bronx River watched as the cat jumped into the river and swam with “fine, vigorous strokes” to the east shore.
After hours of searching with no capture in sight, the men called off their hunt for the evening. Director Hornaday theorized that the panther would either be shot or would escape to areas further north where there were fewer people. Curator Ditmars told the press he was greatly concerned that the lost panther would only be fit to make a rug when it was captured.
The 10 members of the Bronx Park Police, headquartered at the circa 1856 Lorillard mansion, were instructed to capture the panther alive. The mansion was destroyed by fire in 1923.
The Middle of the Great Panther Hunt
On the day after the young cat escaped, the New-York Tribune reported that the great panther hunt was continuing “merrily” in and around the park.
Motorists raced up up and down the parkways while peering into bushes for the lost cat; bicycle and mounted policemen from three nearby police precincts patrolled the roadways hoping for something more exciting than the standard runaway horse; small boys with their dogs waited in the woods off Unionport and Boston Roads with air guns, slings, and bows and arrows; and timid women sweltered behind closed doorways in fear of every noise that resembled a growl in any way.
Boston Road entrance to the Bronx Zoological Park, 1911. New York Public Library Digital Collections
At one point, Director Hornaday requested the police to stop looking for the panther, and instead turn their attentions to the bands of young boys hiding in the woods. As the Evening World noted, “the opportunity to hunt a real, live, man-eating beast in the jungles of the Bronx may not occur again in their lifetime, and the youth of the Annexed District are not overlooking it.” Hornaday did not want any harm to come to the panther.
The panther was reportedly last spotted the following morning at 146th Street and Southern Boulevard. Several young boys told Mounted Policeman David Fanning they had seen the young cat in the bushes. A team of zoo keepers and two coon dogs were dispatched to the site.
It was hoped that the dogs could track down the panther and tree the small panther. Then the zoo keepers could work with their nets to lure the panther down.
New York Times, July 30, 1902
The End of the Great Panther Hunt
On Wednesday, July 30, the New York newspapers reported that the residents of the Bronx were able to breathe a little easier. Little children were once again able to play outdoors. The “ferocious” panther that had escaped from the Bronx Zoological Park had been captured and returned to his cage after three days on the lam.
According to The New York Times and Yonkers Herald, a farmer named John Spears discovered the panther in his stable yard on the Boston Road between Bronxville and Eastchester.
Of the 653 undeveloped acres condemned by the city for Bronx Park, more than half were owned by the Lorillard estate and 170 acres were owned by the Lydig estate. All total, it cost the city $2.3 million to acquire the lands for Bronx Park in 1888. This photo shows the northwest corner of what would become the Bronx Zoological Park in 1899.
Spears was carrying a bucket of oats and had just passed his chicken yard when he noticed two green balls glaring at him through the dusk, from inside the chicken house. He threw the pail of oats at the animal and cried for help. Then he locked himself in his barn and waited for his wife and son to come to his rescue.
Carrying various weapons including a shotgun, Spears’ wife and son approached the barn. A nearby panther hunting party led by Clark Joslin also came to Spears’ aid. By that time, though, the panther had already run to the other side of the fields.
Farmer John Spears found the panther on his property on the Boston Road near Eastchester Road, which is where this photo was taken in the 1930s. NYPL Digital Collections
Using pitchforks, rakes, shovels, and sticks, the men beat through the tall grass approached the panther. At one point the cat attempted to charge his pursuers, sending most of the men in all directions. Spears, his son, and Joslin held their ground.
As the panther continued walking toward the men, Joslin called out, “Here, kitty, kitty” in a soothing voice. He was able to slip his belt around the cat’s neck while the other men placed a fishnet over the panther.
Now, here’s where the ending of the story gets a bit fuzzy. I’ll tell both accounts and let you decide which one is better.
According to the Yonkers Herald, after the men had captured the panther they telephone Director Hornaday. He instructed them to notify Herman W. Merkle, the park’s chief forester, who lived nearby in Bronxdale. Then the men carried their captive to the Bronx Park police station in the old Lorillard mansion, where they waited for Merkle to claim the panther and return him to the zoo.
I couldn’t find an old photo of the panther, but here is Helen Martini, who lived near the Bronx Zoo in the early 1900s. Helen often took care of the baby animals, like this baby black panther. In the mid-1940s, she convinced zoo officials to build an animal nursery in the Lion House.
The New York Times tells a very different story. According to this newspaper, the men carried the captured cat to a placed called Reisen’s roadhouse, where they removed his net and fed him a large bowl of fresh milk.
Noticing that the panther appeared to be playful, the men carried him upstairs, where there was an unused pool table. They placed him on the table and watched in delight as the small panther chased the balls into the side pockets.
Soon, playtime for the panther was over. Chief forester Merkle appeared at the roadhouse and returned the runaway cat to his new home at the Bronx Zoological Park. I have a feeling the panther had some amazing dreams for the rest of his life.
In 1906, a large three-foot-long python escaped from the Reptile House but was soon captured by Bronx Zoo employees. New York Public Library Collections
Portrait of Oliver Herford and Hafiz, the Persian cat. James Montgomery Flagg
When Hafiz saw the portrait free, By Monty Flagg, of him and me, He made remarks one can’t repeat In any reputable sheet. — Oliver Herford, in Confessions of a Caricaturist, 1917
One of the most notable literary cats of the early 20th century was Hafiz, the pet cat of American humorist, author, and illustrator Oliver Herford. The cat was no doubt named after Hafiz, the Persian cat featured in George Eliot’s “Daniel Deronda” (1876).
Hafix was described as “a smoky Persian of remarkable size and beauty.” His unique coloring was “brightly lionesque”–a mix of tawny orange with gray and black stripes. His deep eyes were amber by day and emerald by night.
As a young kitten in 1904, Hafiz served as the inspiration and model for Herford’s “Rubaiyat of a Persian Kitten.” This ode to a mischievous kitten is filled with short verses, musings, and numerous illustrations featuring Hafiz as a kitten partaking in various feline escapades.
Here is one of my favorite verses from the book:
I sometimes think the Pussy-Willows grey Are Angel Kittens who have lost their way. And every Bulrush on the river bank, A Cat-Tail from some lovely Cat astray. Sometimes I think perchance that Allah may, When he created Cats, have thrown away The Tails He marred in making, and they grew To Cat-Tails and to Pussy-Willows grey.
From “Rubaiyat of a Persian Kitten.”Oliver Herford, 1904.
In 1911, Hafiz once again served as a “mews” for Herford. That year, Herford published “The Kitten’s Garden of Verses,” a book of 25 short and sweet verses with titles such as The Joy Ride, Kitten’s Night Thought, and The Milk Jug.
Not only did the book feature numerous of illustrations of Hafiz, but Herford also dedicated the book to his beloved cat.
From “A Kitten’s Book of Verses.” Oliver Herford, 1911.
Oliver Herford
So, who was this kind and gentle man who wrote sweet nothings about his Persian cat?
Oliver Brooke Herford was born in Sheffield, England, in 1863. When he was six years old, his father, Dr. Brooke Herford, a Unitarian minister, was offered a job in the United States. The family moved to Boston and later to Chicago.
Oliver Herford sans cat
Herford returned to England to study at Lancaster College, and then returned to America to attend Antioch College in Ohio. He later studied art at the Slade School in London and at the Julian studios in Paris. In 1904, he married poet and playwright Margaret (Peggy) Regan in London.
During his career, Herford worked for Life, Ladies’ Home Journal, and Harper’s Weekly (at Harper’s he wrote a column called “Pen and Inklings” under Editor Norman Hapgood). He authored 28 books and 4 plays, and created close to 100 illustrations of Hafiz the cat–many of which he sketched at The Players social club in Grammercy Park.
According to one New York newspaper, Herford’s conception of cats “was treasured by feline lovers the world over.” And President Woodrow Wilson once called him “the very delightful wit and artist.”
The Stuyvesant Apartments on East 18th Street
I do not know how long Hafiz lived, but I do know that he spent all of his life living in what is considered to be Manhattan’s very first apartment building for the middle class.
The Stuyvesant Apartments (aka Rutherford Stuyvesant Flats) at 142 East 18th Street was the brainchild of Rutherford Stuyvesant, the nephew of Peter Gerard Stuyvesant (who was the great-great grandson of Petrus Stuyvesant, Director-General of the colony of New Netherland.)
The Stuyvesant Apartments on West 18th Street in 1938. To the right is the Huyler Chocolate Factory, which was demolished soon after this photo was taken. Also visible is the old Third Avenue El train station. Library of Congress
Designed by Richard Morris Hunt and completed in 1870, the five-story, brick and stone Victorian Gothic building was modeled after a new European concept–the apartment house. Stuyvesant was very taken by this new style of living while he was traveling abroad during the Civil War years.
The Stuyvesant Apartments featured four artists’ studios on the top floor and 16 spacious, sound-proof apartments comprising four, seven, or nine large rooms. The parlor (public room) was in the front because it had the most light. Behind that were bedrooms, followed by the dining room in the middle, and the kitchen and bathroom in the rear. Two staircases gave access to the floors: one for the occupants and a service stairwell for deliveries and servants.
According to an article in The Sun about the building, “The apartment or flat idea, which originated in Paris, had spread through every country of Europe but England, which would not tolerate this sort of dwelling. Its popularity impressed Mr. Stuyvesant so much that he decided to build an apartment on his property when he returned home.”
The Stuyvesant Apartments, 1935. New York Public Library Digital Collections
One of the original residents was Bayard Taylor, a well known lecturer, novelist, poet, translator, war correspondent, and essayist. Other famous residents included landscape architect Calvert Vaux; Elizabeth B. Custer, the widow of General George Custer; and artists E. L. Henry, Mrs. Emily M. Scott, Julia Dillon, and Frederick James, all of whom occupied the four studios in the late 1880s.
Oliver and Peggy moved into the building shortly after they married. They did not have any children, so the only two other occupants of their small apartment was Hafiz and a servant.
Oliver died in the apartment on July 5, 1935. It was reported that he died in poverty. His wife had become gravely ill shortly before his death; she died in December of that same year.
Oliver Herford with Hafiz. Pittsburgh Press, 1916.
By the mid 1900s, the Stuyvesant Apartments could not compete with the newer apartment buildings and their must-have features like elevators and other modern conveniences and décor. On September 22, 1957, plans were set in motion to demolish the grand structure.
Demolishing the sound-proof building was a challenge, but by 1960 the 14-story Gramercy Green apartment building was standing in its place. If you ever happen to pass by, think of Herford and Hafiz the Persian cat.
If you enjoyed this tale about Hafiz the Persian cat, you may also enjoy reading about the 19th-century feline models of cat artist J.H. Dolph.
William Davis Hassler taking a “selfie” in 1913. (He looks a bit like the actor David Craig–what do you think?) New-York Historical Society
I once wrote about Buzzer, the most photographed cat in America during the early 1900s. I think I have just stumbled upon the second most photographed cat during that same time period: Reddy, the ginger cat of New York City photographer William Davis Hassler.
Like Buzzer, Reddy and his four-legged siblings Peaches and Bounce lived in Manhattan during the second decade of the 20th century.
Reddy, Bounce, and Peaches didn’t pose for glamor shots with beautiful women of stage and screen like Buzzer did, but they did feature prominently in many Hassler family photos. Reddy appears in most of the family photos; apparently he was not photo-shy at all.
William Davis Hassler
William Hassler was a prolific commercial photographer who documented New York City buildings, people, and streets during the early 1900s. Working for a vast array of employers, including real estate auction house Joseph P. Day, postcard companies, construction companies, electric companies, and magazines, Hassler took thousands of photos across the five boroughs of New York.
Reddy. New-York Historical Society
The son of Ella Davis and Dr. James P. Hassler, William Hassler was born in Cochranton, Pennsylvania on May 7, 1877. After graduating from the Meadville Commercial College in 1896, he became an assistant manager for the new Armour-Cudahy Meat Packing Company on West 14th Street in New York City (now Patrick Cudahy/Smithfield).
He and his wife Ethel Gray Magaw of Meadville, Pennsylvania, married in June 1904. They had one son, William Gray, who also stars in many of William’s photos.
Peaches. January 22, 1918. New-York Historical Society
William lived and worked out of small apartment (#44) at 150 Vermilyea Avenue, which he began renting in 1905. Many of the photographs in his collection document his personal life in the apartment and capture what life was like for people living in Inwood during the turn of the century.
Bounce in front of 150 Vermilyea Avenue.
Although he took more than 5,000 photographs during his career, very little has been written about William Hassler. He died of a sudden and mysterious illness on April 24, 1921, when he was only 42 years old.
According to a small article in the Daily News, William became ill and died in the 157th Street subway station after traveling on a southbound train. That same day, another 42-year-old man was found dead on a bench at the 180th Street subway station.
This photograph is titled 150 Vermilyea Avenue, 1911. The five-story apartment building is still standing, albeit, now it is surrounded by many other apartment buildings. The Hasslers used to have a garden on this property, which is captured in some of William’s photos. West 207th Street between Vermilyea Avenue and Broadway. Do you see the two dogs?
The New-York Historical Society has a large collection of William’s photographs (more than 5,000), including those featuring his family members and pets. This one below is one of my favorites.
William’s sister, Harriet E. Hassler, and his son, William, with Reddy.
Here are some other favorites, including a creepy Halloween photo I came across on Twitter last October (at that time, the photo was a mystery to me, as I did not know the photographer was William Davis Hassler). Kind of eerie that I came across this photo again exactly one year later–I wasn’t looking for it.
From the captions on the photos, it appears is if Reddy, at least, got to travel quite a bit. Some of the photos of Reddy say they were taken in Astoria, Queens, and I also found one possibly taken at the Hassler home in Pennsylvania.
As you can see in the photos, the two cats and dog received a lot of love and attention from the members and friends of the Hassler family.
James Welty, Walter Welty, Belle Hassler Welty, Ethel Gray Magaw Hassler, William Gray Hassler, Reddy, and some other unidentified people eating cake and ice cream, undated.William Gray and Reddy sharing a bowl of cereal, 1912. Unidentified man and Reddy in a tree, possibly taken in Pennsylvania. Peaches with two other unidentified cats, August 1916.Reddy and some guinea pig friends, Astoria, July 1910. Unidentified group of people in creepy Halloween masks with an unidentified cat at the Hassler’s apartment on October 31, 1916. I wonder if these are the same people in the photo of people eating ice cream above? What do you think? William Gray with Bounce on the Harlem River, 1910. Ethel Hassler, William Gray Hassler, Harriet E. Hassler, and Reddy in the dining area of 150 Vermilyea Avenue, Apartment 44.Hassler friends and relatives at dinner: Mr. and Mrs. Lee, Gray, Hedda, William Gray Hassler, Harriet E. Hassler, Ethel Gray Magaw Hassler and Reddy at the head of the table. Here is 150 Vermilyea Avenue today. When Google Streets captured this, there was a panda bear in the tree…
