One of the many positive things I have been doing during the COVID-19 pandemic is watching The Alienist, which is set in 1896 New York City. I’ve also been watching various old and classic movies also set in Manhattan. In addition to favorites such as West Side Story and Breakfast at Tiffany’s, I discovered a 1915 silent film called Regeneration, which was co-written and directed by Raoul Walsh.
I was pleased to find the complete film online. I was even happier to discover that the film starred several cats and one dog. Having written about Elizabeth Kingston, who rented cats from her Richmond Hill, Queens cattery to film studios during this same time period, I immediately wondered if any of the cats in this film were from her Kingston Kattery.
Cited as one of the first full-length gangster films, Regeneration tells the story of Owen, a poor orphan who is forced into a life of poverty after his mother dies. Using three actors of various ages, the film portrays Owen’s journey from his young life with abusive adoptive parents to his teenage years working on the docks and his adult years controlling the mob. One of the most memorable scenes–other than the cat and dog scenes–is a fire aboard an excursion ferry, much like the General Slocum disaster of 1904.
Regeneration was shot on location in New York City’s Lower East Side (down on the docks and the Bowery), and, in addition to several cats and one dog, the film used real prostitutes, gangsters, and homeless people as extras. It was the first film produced by Fox Film Corporation (a forerunner of the 20th Century Fox) and was released on September 13, 1915, to critical acclaim.
Pets and animals were apparently a recurring theme in Walsh’s films. The majority of his many films featured dogs, but lions, horses, monkeys, seals, birds, and elephants also made appearances. In addition to Regeneration, cats had cameo roles in The Strawberry Blonde, and lions and tigers were featured in The Thief of Baghdad and Esther and the King.
Reporting on the feline film stars of the Kingston Kattery in 1916, The New York Sun said:
“These cats have been in more motion picture shows than most of the actors, and their acting reaps a nice harvest for their owner. They don’t get rattled when the camera man begins to grind, and seem to enjoy posing.” According to Miss Kingston, her tabbies “registered very well” (showed well on the screen), they photographed beautifully when it came to close-ups, and “they never turn a hair in the most thrilling of scenes and stunts.”
The Cats of The Alienist
As an aside, if you enjoy psycho-killer movies (my favorite genre), have a strong stomach, and want to journey back in time to gritty Old New York in full color, I highly recommend this series. My husband and I binge-watched Season 1 in three days, and I can’t wait to delve into Season 2.
Not only does it bring 19th-century New York to life, but, like Regeneration, it also features some cameo cats (albeit, the scenes are gruesome, to say the least). My husband and I now look for cats in every episode. I must admit, though, I was quite disappointed that the scenes depicting Bellevue Hospital did not feature any cats. The director should have read my blog or consulted me first….just saying.
The story of Caroline G. Ewen begins in the summer of 1890, when five women decided to devote their lives to improving the lives of city cats and dogs. They formed the Society to Befriend Domestic Animals, and set out to find the perfect house to rent in a remote part of the city so as to not disturb the neighbors. They found such a place in Washington Heights, on Amsterdam Avenue between 185th and 187th Street.
Their mission was “to provide shelter and food for the homeless and maltreated animals; to secure painless death for animals rendered decrepit by accident or incurable ailment; to secure through educative agencies the repression of all forms of cruelty to animals.”
All was fine and well for homeless cats until 1893, when the women were forced to leave the dilapidated farmhouse. Without a shelter to house the animals, they turned to another method to help “save” the feline population of New York City–mercy killing via chloroform.
Armed with catnip, airtight baskets lined with oilcloth, and sponges saturated in chloroform, up to 20 volunteers would roam the streets late at night to “save the souls” of the homeless cats. They called themselves the Midnight Band of Mercy. Their main benefactor and volunteer was Caroline Ewen, the wealthy daughter of Civil War Brigadier General John Ewen and his wife, Maria.
Although several of the women were eventually arrested, and the Midnight Band of Mercy was disbanded, Caroline continued saving cats in a slightly more humane way–this time via cat hoarding at her home.
Caroline Ewen and Her 80 to 180 Cats
In August 1904, two of Caroline’s neighbors at 103 and 107 East 101st Street petitioned the Board of Health regarding the nightly concerts of 80 or more fat and sassy cats sheltered in the woman’s three-stone brownstone at 105 East 101st Street. “It is not that we object to Miss Ewan’s humane impulses in caring for all the stray and homeless felines of the neighborhood, but the noise of her pets is something wonderful,” the petitioners said. “It is enough to drive a strong man with a newly-signed pledge in the pocket to drink.”
According to petitioners Jacob Thorman and J. Kaplan, “There are bass cats and soprano cats, tenor cats and contraite cats, but there is no feline to drill them and make them sing in unison or harmony. I am fond of good music, but I do not consider eighty cats singing in eighty keys and eighty kinds of time good music.”
Reportedly, Caroline had moved into the home a year prior. At that time, she had only three cats and three servants. But then she made an offer to the little neighborhood boys that they couldn’t refuse: for every stray, hungry, and homeless feline they brought her, she would pay them ten cents. In return, they had to pledge to be kind to all living creatures and to protect them from cruelty.
Here is the wording that was on the back of pledge card, which also featured a picture of a dog and cat fraternizing. Every boy with a cat received a dime and this card:
In addition to what one neighbor described as “mangy cats,” some of the boys also brought her well-fed kitties that already had homes. So, Caroline had to remind them that she would only pay for homeless cats. By the summer of 1904, Caroline Ewen had anywhere from 80 to 180 cats, as estimated by her neighbors.
According to The Sun, one of Caroline’s aims was to reform bad street cats by bringing them indoors and introducing them to “the joys of gentle domesticity.” To prevent the indoor cats from falling out the windows, Caroline put screens in all her windows.
After restoring the cats to good health, she looked for families to adopt them. Dewey, an all-white cat who looked like “an admiral on the quarter-deck,” was one such former wicked kitty who had learned good manners.
Caroline wouldn’t say how many cats she had, but she did admit she had a lot. She also said that she refused to listen to her neighbor’s complaints, and would continue to rescue and care for starving and homeless cats as long as she wished and without regard to how her neighbors felt about it.
Well, it wasn’t long before a health inspector from the Board of Health showed up at Caroline’s house. At first he told the neighbors there was nothing he could do, but when they all threatened to move if he didn’t deal with their complaints, he told the cat lover that she would have to move.
“Yes, I expect to move,” she told a reporter from The Sun. “I shall go somewhere on the West Side, where my friends are, and where people can sympathize with my love for cats. What harm do my cats do anybody?”
I’m not sure where Caroline Ewen ended up next, but by 1910 she was living at 23 West 86th Street, just to the west of Central Park. In those days, Central Park was a haven for stray cats and dogs, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they ate many of their meals at Caroline’s house.
Brigadier General John Ewen
Caroline Ewen was one of four children of John Ewen, a brigadier general in New York State’s National Guard during the Civil War.
Ewen, a civil engineer by trade, took part in surveying and laying out the village of Williamsburg in Brooklyn. During his illustrious career he also served as the chief engineer for the New York and Harlem Railroad, as New York City’s Street Commissioner and, later, as Comptroller. He was subsequently elected president of the Pennsylvania Coal Company (the hamlet of Port Ewen, New York, where the company had a coal depot, was named for him).
During the 1840s, John and his brother Daniel established their country estates on about 150 acres that were once part of the Frederick Van Cortlandt estate in the Bronx (then Westchester County), between Kingsbridge and Riverdale. When John Ewen died at the age of 67 in 1877, Caroline and her two sisters–Louise and Eliza–inherited about $1 million from their father.
Caroline Ewen Bequeaths Her Estate to Stray Cats
Caroline Ewen died at the age of 73 on April 12, 1913, at her home at 45 West 92nd Street. According to several newspapers, her will stipulated that all but $500 of her personal holdings (cash and real estate totaling about $300,000) go to various societies dedicated to serving homeless and suffering dogs, cats, and other animals in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, London, Rome, Naples, and the Island of Madeira.
Some of the beneficiaries included the Humane Society of New York City, the Animal Rescue League of Boston, and the “Cat’s House” in London (aka, The London Institution for Lost and Starving Cats).
Unfortunately, some of these agencies provided only temporary shelter for cats born outside of the aristocratic class before killing them with chloroform. According to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, for example, the announcement that the Ewen estate had bequeathed $50,000 to the London cat house caused quite a flutter of excitement among the nurses who worked at this facility, but the cats may not have been so joyful:
“Altogether, there is quite a noticeable change in the conduct of the ordinary London cat since the news of this remarkable legacy reached this side. He evidently realizes that a substantial bank balance at the Institution means a curtailment of his liberty and an earlier consignment to the lethal chamber unless he is able to carry about with him evidence of a distinguished pedigree.”
The Ewen Family Estate Goes to the Cats and Dogs
Three years after Caroline died, her sister Eliza offered five acres of her portion of the family estate to the New York City Parks Commissioner, Borough of the Bronx. The deal was that the city had to create a park called Ewen Park in honor of her father, and Eliza had to be allowed to live in her house and have full use of the buildings and grounds until she died. The park was designed in 1935, following her death.
In October 1921, a year after the death of Louise Ewen, 162 lots along the Spuyten Duyvil Parkway (now Manhattan College Parkway), 231st Street, Riverdale Avenue, and adjacent thoroughfares were sold at auction. The sale marked the breaking down of a major barrier in the development of Riverdale by opening a tract of land that had been held by the Ewens and two other families for nearly 250 years.
Per the wills of Caroline and Louise, more than half of the proceeds from the auction sale–$50,000–was donated to the same humane societies that benefited from Caroline’s personal inheritance when she died in 1913.
Several people contested the sisters’ wills, including nephew John Ewen (Eliza’s son), and Otto von Koenitz, an ex-convict and much younger ex-husband of Louise who had once falsely claimed that he was a baron (very long, complex story). The court held the wills of both sisters were valid.
By the way, I do not know how many cats Caroline had when she died, but I do know that her sister Louise adopted her beloved cat, Petie. As the story goes, Caroline was going to have Petie euthanized when she died to prevent him from being mistreated; instead, he lived another seven years with Louise. He was euthanized and buried alongside Louise after she died in January 1920 at her home at 151 West 86th Street.
Now, if only I knew where Louise was buried. There is a Ewen family buried at Old St. Raymond’s Cemetery in the Bronx, but looking at the dates on the gravestone, it appears to be a different family. So this is a still a mystery…
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe Catch a tiger by the toe If he hollers let him go, Eeny, meeny, miny, moe
Many of my readers have asked me how I find all the stories posted on the Hatching Cat. I discover most of my animal tales in the pages of old newspapers. Sometimes, however, one of my readers leads me to a great story.
The following big-cat story came to my attention during my recent correspondence with Bob Singleton, executive director of the Greater Astoria Historical Society. When Bob mentioned that a tiger once escaped from a circus in Woodside, I just had to dig more into this tale.
The Tiger Escapes
On May 8, 1939–34 years after 10 elephants terrorized the Woodside neighborhood after escaping from the Ruhe Wild Animal Farm–a 400-pound tiger named Colonel (or Duke) escaped from his wooden crate near the Madison Square Garden Bowl on Northern Boulevard in Woodside, Queens.
According to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, the escape took place at about 5:30 a.m., while the cage was being unloaded from a railroad car to the circus lot. The entire Ringling Brothers, Barnum & Bailey Circus, including a large menagerie and about 2,800 performers, had traveled to Queens in 80 railroad cars for the one-week engagement.
Ringling Brothers had opened its 1939 season in April with performances at Madison Square Garden in Manhattan. In Queens, the circus selected a lot adjacent to the Madison Square Garden Bowl on Northern Boulevard at 45th Street to erect its big top.
It’s not clear whether the tiger was actually with the circus, or if he was even scheduled to perform with the circus. According to The New York Times, the tiger was being shipped to Frank Buck’s jungle camp in Massapeaqua, Long Island. During the night, he chewed through the wooden slats and then slammed his way out of the weakened timber crate.
At approximately 5:35 a.m., a milk truck driver called police headquarters. “Do believe me. I have not been drinking,” he reportedly said. “But I have just seen a tiger. Three men are after it.”
Radio police cars from the Hunter’s Point Emergency Squad and Astoria police precinct responded immediately to the scene of the escape. They joined Roy Chorister, who worked with the tigers and was thus the best man to lead the search team.
As they made their way down Northern Boulevard, Chorister begged Sgt. James Sullivan and the other policemen not to shoot the tiger with their rifles. He assured them that he would be able to get Colonel back in his cage without trouble.
The Tiger is Captured
It did not take long for the men to capture Colonel, but the details vary, depending on the newspaper.
According to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle (which called the tiger Duke), the men found the tiger in a lot behind the Woodside car barns (New York and Queens Railroad Company trolley barn). On page two of the Daily News, it was also reported that Chorister and the police found the tiger “peacefully wandering about behind the Woodside car barns.”
However, in the same edition of the Daily News, on page 27, the photo captions state that the men captured the tiger in the backyard of 38-29 Woodside Avenue, which was a private residence. Maybe the tiger spent some time checking out the trolley barn before heading over to Woodside Avenue.
Several out-of-state newspapers said it took about 60 men armed with nets, poles, and guns to capture the tiger. The New York Times reported that the tiger was captured after he leapt onto a tree behind a two-story brick house at 38-23 53rd Street.
On May 14, five days after the great escape, the Brooklyn Daily Eagle reaffirmed that the tiger had made his way about six blocks east down Northern Boulevard and a few blocks south over the railroad tracks to the backyard of Woodside Avenue. “The tiger’s gone in the driveway at 38-29 Woodside Ave.,” came a police report at 5:45 a.m.
The noise of the tiger’s roars and the men’s shouts woke the occupants living in the house–Mr. Agoston (Gus) Mazzari, his wife, and five children.
Mr. Mazzari told the reporter that although the family was surprised by the rude awakening, they were not in the least afraid. After all, he told the newspaper, it was only one tiger.
The day after the escape, the circus opened in the first air-conditioned big top in history.
(By the way, the Brooklyn Daily Eagle got it right and The New York Times was wrong: According to the 1949 federal census, Agostin Mazzari lived at 38-29 Woodside Avenue, not on 53rd Street.)
The Madison Square Garden Bowl
Although the Ringling Brothers, Barnum & Bailey Circus took place in a big tent, the tent was pitched next to the Madison Square Garden Bowl.
Located between 45th and 48th Streets and Northern Boulevard, this large sports arena was the folly of boxing promoter George L. “Tex” Rickard, who founded the New York Rangers. Ground for the 72,000-seat arena was broken in 1929—the year Rickard died—and it was completed in 1932.
The arena primarily hosted circuses and boxing matches; something called midget auto racing also took place there. It was here, in fact, that James J. Braddock defeated Max Baer for the World Heavyweight title on June 13, 1935—a fight later featured in Cinderella Man. During the winter months, the snow-covered bowl made a great place for children to go sledding.
The Madison Square Garden Bowl was torn down in 1942-43 to make way for a US Army Mail Depot. Metal from the stadium was melted down to make bullets and other war materials, including those to build the mail facility. The depot was torn down in the 1960s, and the area is now occupied by car dealerships and a strip mall.
Kangaroos and Tigers
Incidentally, a baby kangaroo escaped from the Prospect Park Zoo in Brooklyn on the same day that Colonel the tiger escaped in Queens. The kangaroo was found hopping along Eastern Parkway.
More than 60 years later, in August 2004, a Bengal tiger named Apollo escaped from the Cole Brothers Circus in Forest Park and caused a multi-car accident on the Jackie Robinson Parkway. This tiger was also captured safely and returned to his cage.
On this day in history, the New York Times and numerous other newspapers reported on a Maltese (all gray) mother cat who was caring for her kitten and five orphan puppies in Brooklyn’s Kensington neighborhood. According to the Times, residents living near Avenue C and East 8th Street took great interest in the efforts of the cat to raise such a large, mixed family.
The story began a few weeks earlier at 402 East 8th Street, where Captain Samuel Fergusen Fahnestock of the 47th Regiment lived with his wife, Grace Louise Fahnestock (nee Kemp) and two daughters. Nettie, Mrs. Fahnestock’s bat-eared French bulldog, had just given birth to five healthy and handsome pups. Nettie was reportedly worth $900, so Mrs. Fahnestock had high hopes for the tiny bulldog puppies.
Sadly, the registered pedigree mother dog died two days after her pups were born. Mrs. Fahnestock and her friend, Mrs. Irving N. Dodge, tried feeding the orphan puppies with bottled milk, but the two women could not keep up with the pups’ voracious appetites.
Mrs. Dodge suggested going to the ASPCA dog pound on Malbone Street (perfect street name for a dog pound) to find a canine wet nurse for the orphan puppies. Mrs. Fahnestock, the adopted daughter of James and Caroline Kemp, agreed to finding a foster mom to adopt the puppies.
According to the news reports, the pound did not have a suitable dog to take on the important job. However, the superintendent remembered a stray cat that had recently been dropped off at the shelter with her newborn kittens.
He explained to Mrs. Fahnestock that all but one of the kittens had died, and the mother cat appeared to be grieving deeply over her loss. He thought she would accept the motherless puppies and nurse them.
Mrs. Fahnestock agreed to the experiment, and welcomed the mother cat and kitten into her home. The puppies accepted their new feline mother right away. The mother cat, in turn, purred joyously and seemed very happy to have these new fur babies.
Mrs. Fahnestock named the all-gray felines Lady Gray and Bill Gray. To ensure adequate milk production, she fed the mother cat one pound of ground beef and all the milk she could drink every day.
As the Times noted:
Since then the cat has nursed and cared for the puppies with as much devotion as she shows to her own kitten. The kitten and pups are all thriving and all is peace and harmony in this strange family.”
Mrs. Fahnestock told the press she hoped to begin showing the orphan puppies at the kennel shows in the future. Sure enough, seven months later, two of the dogs–Migon and Richelieu II–won blue ribbons at the Long Island Kennel Club show. Apparently, as the commercial goes, milk does do a body good, even if it’s feline milk and the body of a French bulldog.
Richelieu and Mignon Protect Lady Gray
According to the New York Sun, which ran a follow-up story in April 1905, the puppies took part in numerous exhibitions. They missed their feline mother whenever they were away from her, and they were always happy to find her waiting for them at the front door when they came back home. “The way she purred and rubbed noses with her dog children while they jumped around her yelping with delight showed the affection existing between them.”
Richelieu and Migon were also very protective of Lady Gray. The three often strolled down the street together, and whenever “an ignorant dog” dared to bark at the cat, the two dogs would immediately come to their foster mother’s defense. “More than once she has seen Richelieu bristling all over at an insult offered her through the gate of her home and he has occasionally given an offending dog a good shaking,” the Sun wrote.
Lady Gray adored her extended family–according to The Sun, she seemed to adore the dogs more than her own feline son. The only problem with the arrangement, The Sun noted, was that she never taught her canine kids how to bury bones and dig them up again.
This is the end of Lady Gray’s story. If you also enjoy history, please read on for the history of Malbone Street and the Malbone Street animal shelter, from where Lady Gray and Bill Gray were rescued.
A Brief History of Malbone Street
Malbone Street is named for Ralph Malbone, a descendant of Rhode Island merchants who sold mahogany and, sadly, slaves. Malbone came to Brooklyn in 1809, where he worked as a grocer. He established a homestead and farm on land bounded by Montague, Joralemon, Clinton, Court, and Fulton Streets.
Shortly after his arrival in Brooklyn, Malbone met Jane Schenck, who was the daughter of Nicholas Schenck Jr., a descendant of prosperous landowners and slaveholders of Dutch heritage. Despite her family’s protests, the two lovebirds married in 1815 and had four children. Over the next 20 years, Malbone sold smallpox inoculations, insurance, carriage cushions, paving stones, and groceries (his store was at the junction of Fulton, Pearl, and Willoughby Streets).
During this time, Malbone also made a fortune in real estate—some of his holdings were along the old Clove Road (the main thoroughfare from Bedford Corners to Flatbush and Canarsie), a few blocks east of Prospect Park. In the 1830s, he developed a rustic neighborhood here, which was called Malboneville for many years.
In 1833, Malbone built a large, one-and-a-half-story, five-bedroom house fronting the Clove Road between Crown and Montgomery Streets. The Malbone family lived there until 1837, which is when Ralph and Jane moved to Fayette, in upstate New York.
Jane Malbone lived in Fayette until her death on May 28, 1843, at the age of 51. Ralph moved back to Brooklyn and opened a real estate office at 1 Front Street, where he worked until his death in 1860. Although Ralph had remarried, he was buried alongside Jane at the Dutch Reformed Church Cemetery in Flatlands, Brooklyn.
When the Malbone’s moved to Fayette in 1837, Tom French, an Irish grocer, purchased their home on the Clove Road. He opened a general store, which in later years became known as French’s Tavern.
According to an article published in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle in 1888, Mrs. Bridget French sold groceries, dry goods, and liquors at the country store, while Tom French traveled around the country peddling his wares.
French’s subsequently became a roadside tavern for sporting men before and during the Civil War; it also served as a stagecoach inn for the stages running from the Fulton Ferry to Carnarsie and as a halfway house for farmers from Carnarsie, Flatbush, Sheepshead Bay, and Coney Island–it was not uncommon to see 100 farm vehicles in the vicinity on any given day.
In its heyday, crowds would gather at French’s to participate in shooting matches, raffles, cock fights, horse races, and other amusements. But alas, when the old Clove Road ceased to be a thoroughfare in the late 1860s, the hotel shut down and reverted to a private dwelling.
In 1888, the Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported that the building was occupied by French’s only surviving daughter, Mrs. Welsh (Tom and Bridget French had 11 children). The outbuildings were also still standing, as was the pump where the horses were once watered. A row of trees indicated what used to be the tavern plaza.
Malbone Street Renamed Empire Boulevard
On November 1, 1918, a speeding Brooklyn Rapid Transit train derailed in the sharply curved tunnel beneath Willink Plaza, at the intersection of Flatbush Avenue, Ocean Avenue, and Malbone Street. Close to 100 people were killed, and about 250 other passengers were injured in what is still the deadliest rail accident in New York City’s history.
The wreck was so horrific, the city renamed Malbone Street (save for a one-block stretch) Empire Boulevard one month later. No one in Brooklyn wanted to live or work on a street associated with so much tragedy. The tunnel where the crash occurred still exists, but it is used only to turn around Franklin Avenue shuttle trains with no passengers aboard.
A Brief History of the Malbone Street Animal Shelter
The ASPCA–founded in New York City in 1866–opened its first Brooklyn animal shelter on the corner of Malbone Street and Nostrand Avenue in 1895. That year, the control of stray dogs was transferred from Brooklyn’s mayor to the society, which also had the authority to capture stray cats. The shelter accommodated dogs in apartments on one side the building; the cats had small, tiered kennels on the opposite side of the building.
According to an article in The New York Times about the new shelter, the facility was “clean, convenient, airy, and spacious, although it is only a temporary wooden structure, which, it is hoped, will soon be replaced with a larger, better-constructed building worthy of the city.”
According to the paper, the building had been a car stable for the Brooklyn Heights Railroad Company, when its cars were drawn by horses. The president of the railroad company, Clinton L. Rossiter, and the treasurer, Col, T. T. Williams, joined several other prominent Brooklyn residents in making arrangements for the new shelter.
In 1913, a new animal shelter at 233 Butler Street replaced the outdated facility with a modern, sanitary, fireproof structure in a location more convenient for most Brooklyn residents. The building was greatly expanded in 1922 to accommodate offices and a garage for motorized rescue “ambulances.”
The ASPCA moved out of the Butler Street facility in 1979. The building was purchased by Steve Uhrik and Larry Trupiano, who operated a guitar shop–RetroFret Vintage Guitars–and a pipe organ business. Over the years, other various tenants occupied the former garage space for brief periods of time.
During the mid to late 1980s, people often brought animals to the building, thinking it was still a shelter owned by the ASPCA. Occasionally, the tenants would find animals abandoned by the front door.
In 2017, MacArthur Holdings, a real estate developer, purchased the building for $9.5 million. Most recently, the former shelter was occupied by a hi-fi record bar, sound room, and vegetarian cafe.
Once upon a time, the New York City Post Office employed a feline police squad to protect the mail from rats and mice…
The country’s oldest Brooklyn Navy Yard cat survived a massive explosion on board the USS Maine…
New York City’s first theatrical club hosted a black-tie dinner in honor of its famous feline mascot…
The TWA pilots at the brand-new LaGuardia Airport had a flying feline mascot who won numerous trophies at cat shows…
And a blind cat who wore glasses saved Brooklyn Borough Hall from burning down when he was 27 years old.
Join me this Tuesday, July 21, at 2 p.m., for a virtual trip back in time to explore New York City’s history via amazing stories about fire cats, police cats, theatrical cats, and other fabulous felines that made the news headlines in the late 1800s and early 1900s. I’ll be sharing about a dozen of my favorite cat-men tales from my book and blog in a 55-minute virtual presentation on ZOOM via the Hicksville Public Library.
If you have read The Cat Men of Gotham, this afternoon event will give you a chance to see some old news photos of the cats that I couldn’t publish in the book as well as maps, actual news headlines, and pictures of some cat-men heroes.