COVID-19 and Pet Abandonment: Is History Repeating Itself?
Letter Writer and Feline Scholar, Trooper Gordon, wants pet owners to be more informed about COVID-19 and pets
Letter writer and feline scholar, Trooper Gordon

I recently received a letter from one of my feline fans, who has been reading and enjoying “the good parts” of my book, The Cat Men of Gotham: Tales of Feline Friendships in Old New York. He says it’s been a great read during the Covid pandemic!

Trooper Gordon, described by his owner as a “three-legged pink-nosed tabby,” loves the happy stories in the book, but he is avoiding “the sad parts” that address the inhumane ways in which cats were treated in Old New York.

However, Trooper is a smart kitty — smart enough to notice that history appears to be repeating itself. So, he has asked me to share one of the “bad parts” of my book in order to provide a historical reference for the current situation regarding pets and the coronavirus (COVID-19).

You see, Trooper’s human, Merrie, runs a small animal rescue group in New York State. Running a trap, neuter, and release (TNR) program is challenging enough during normal times, but these days, the volunteers are beyond overwhelmed with all of the calls they have been receiving from pet owners who are frightened and confused to the point of hysteria, thinking their cats or dogs are able to spread the COVID virus to them and their loved ones.

Even worse, the volunteers are seeing a sudden rash of pet abandonment due to misinformation and irrational fears surrounding COVID-19.

Merrie’s animal rescue group is not the only one getting calls from panicky pet owners. According to Dr. Stanley Coren, Professor Emeritus at the University of British Columbia, many animal rescue societies around the world are reporting an uptick in the number of pets being surrendered or abandoned because people are misinformed and wrongly believe that animals may carry, or spread, the virus. Numerous dog and cat advocacy groups across the country are also getting questions from pet owners — some hysterical — about whether people can be exposed to the virus by petting a dog or a cat.

For cat owners, the concerns may be even greater, especially in light of recent news about several tigers and lions at the Bronx Zoo that developed dry coughs and other symptoms of the virus after being exposed to a zookeeper who was “asymptomatically infected with the virus.” (Take note that the zookeeper transmitted the virus to the animals, and not the other way around.)

Although there is no simple answer — and doctors and scientists are still learning about COVID-19 and its effects in humans — numerous world experts say there is no reason to keep your paws off your own cat or dog as long as you have no symptoms of the virus or have not tested positive for COVID-19. (Just as you should isolate yourself from people when you have the virus, you should also play it safe and stay away from your pets if you are ill or suspect that you are infected with COVID-19.)

A very small number of real-world cases have shown that cats and dogs can become infected with the coronavirus, but research and current evidence suggests that getting the virus from a dog or cat is extremely unlikely. It should also be comforting for pet owners to know that while COVID-19 has been infecting people around the world for over three months, there are no reports of cat or dog fatalities despite the many thousands of infected people who live with pets.

Words Are Falling on Deaf Ears
Masks are not necessary for cats, so do not do this to your kitty during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Masks are not necessary for cats, so do not do this to your kitty.

In recent weeks, various animal and human health organizations have been trying to assure pet owners by stressing the fact that there are currently no reported cases of people catching the coronavirus from cats and dogs (or any other animal).

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), although the first COVID-19 infections were linked to a live animal market, the virus is now spreading from person to person, and not animal to person. 

“There is no evidence that a dog, cat or any pet can transmit COVID-19,” both the CDC and World Health Organization (WHO) state on their respective websites. American Veterinary Medical Association (AVMA) Chief Veterinary Officer Gail Golab concurs, adding, “We’re not overly concerned about people contracting COVID-19 through contact with dogs and cats.”

Sadly, it appears as if many of these words are either not reaching pet owners, or they are falling on deaf ears. Which is exactly what happened just over 100 years ago — with tragic results for the pet dogs and cats. (Warning to Trooper and other readers: here comes the bad part.)

Brooklyn, 1916: The Polio Epidemic
First reported cases of polio in Brooklyn, 1916
This map shows the locations of the first reported cases of polio in Brooklyn, just east of the Gowanus Canal, in 1916.

On June 6, 1916, 10-month-old John Pamaris of 53 Garfield Place and 2-year-old Armanda Schuccjio of 5014 7th Avenue — two children in the Italian community just east of the Gowanus Canal in Brooklyn — were reported to the New York City Health Department as having symptoms of polio (then called “infantile paralysis”). These two reported cases, along with four more cases reported on June 8, served as a warning of the impending epidemic.

Within a few weeks, there were 24 cases in Brooklyn, most of them in the area bounded by 7th Avenue and Third, Degraw, and Nevins streets. By the end of June there were 646 reported cases of polio in that borough, plus about 150 cases throughout the other boroughs of New York City.

At the time, there was no good theory for how the poliovirus was spread. Since the outbreak began in the Italian community, some, including New York City’s health commissioner, Dr. Haven Emerson (a great-nephew of Ralph Waldo Emerson), thought the disease had been brought to America by Italian immigrants.

One of the first steps the city took was to publish the names and addresses of individuals with confirmed polio cases in the press on a daily basis. The city’s health department also placed placards on the houses identified, as shown in this picture of a Brooklyn apartment, and quarantined the families living there.
One of the first steps the city took was to publish the names and addresses of individuals with confirmed polio cases in the press on a daily basis. The city’s health department also placed placards on the houses identified, as shown in this picture of a Brooklyn apartment, and quarantined the families living there.

Others in the health community speculated that it was spread by insects, while some early reports suggested that domestic cats and dogs were to blame. For example, an article in The New York Times published on July 30, 1916, advised people to wash their pet cats and dogs in a two percent solution of carbolic acid — just in case pets were the cause of infantile paralysis.

The polio epidemic caused widespread panic throughout the city. Movie theaters and libraries were closed, meetings and public gatherings were canceled, and children were kept from parks, pools, and beaches. Thousands of the well-to-do fled the city or sent their children to live with relatives in other states. Sound familiar?

The 1916 epidemic also caused widespread irrational behavior. Many people, wrongly convinced that cats and dogs were responsible for spreading the disease, released their pets to the streets. ASPCA Superintendent Thomas F. Freel tried to convince the public that pets did not spread infantile paralysis, but his words fell on deaf ears. On July 26, the New York Times reported that the ASPCA in New York City was sending up to 450 animals to the lethal chambers every day.

From A Monograph on the Epidemic of Poliomyelits (Infantile Paralysis) in New York City in 1916; published by the Department of Health of New York City, 1917
From A Monograph on the Epidemic of Poliomyelits (Infantile Paralysis) in New York City in 1916; published by the Department of Health of New York City, 1917

Freel told the New York Times, “Since the beginning of the alarm over infantile paralysis, we have been receiving on an average of 800 requests a day for our men to call for unwanted domestic pets, mostly cats, in spite of the statement issued by Health Commissioner Emerson that cats do not carry the germs of the disease.” (To be sure, the ASPCA had always put thousands of unwanted stray cats and dogs to death every year, but the uptick was very noticeable, especially for cats, in 1916.)

Thomas F. Freel, superintendent of the SPCA
Thomas F. Freel, superintendent of the SPCA, tried to convince people that cats and dogs were not spreading polio. He also insisted that mice and rats were carrying the germs that caused the disease.

Freel theorized that more cats were rounded up because of a concurrent downturn in the economy. “When people have to economize,” he explained, “the first thing they decide to do without is the cat and out she goes.”

By the end of October, more than 22,000 dogs and almost 270,000 cats had been needlessly disposed of in the society’s gas chambers. The short-lived polio epidemic also took a large toll on human life, with over 27,000 reported cases and more than 6,000 deaths in the United States (about 2,400 deaths were reported in New York City).

Two years later, when the “Spanish flu” epidemic struck the United States, people appeared to be more confident with the science of the disease, and thus, did not blame their pets for spreading the virus. I could not find any news articles about an uptick in pet surrenders in 1918-1919, albeit, I did find this interesting article on Atlas Obscura about pet parents putting masks on their cats during the epidemic. There are a couple of great old photos with mask-wearing families and their cats, so check it out.

More Information for Pet Parents

I am not a doctor, scientist, or veterinarian, so I want to strongly encourage you to read more about pets and COVID-19 in order to make rational, informed decisions. The CDC, AVMA, and the Humane Society of the United States have a lot of information for pet owners, so those are good places to start.

Trooper and I hope the facts and research-based information will help you feel more confident in continuing to provide your pets with safe, loving homes. Now more than ever, our pets need us to keep loving and protecting them — and we need them to keep bringing calmness and joy into our lives.

Newspaper headlines about the polio vaccine on April 13, 1955.
Newspaper headlines about the polio vaccine on April 13, 1955. Although the vaccine arrived 40 years too late for thousands of people, cats, and dogs, today naturally occurring polio is nonexistent in the United States and has been nearly eradicated from the world.

New-York Tribune, March 27, 1904
Adams Express Fire
The Adams Express Company fire at 59-61 Broadway. New-York Tribune, March 27, 1904

On Saturday, March 26, 1904, a fire gutted two large office buildings at 59 and 61 Broadway. The buildings were occupied by the Adams Express Company (#59) and the Morris European and American Express Company (#61). Pinkerton’s National Detective Agency was located at #57 and Wells-Fargo was at #63-65 Broadway.

Although the fire was not nearly as large as other city conflagrations, the Fire Department sounded the “two nines” alarm, to which every engine and truck south of 58th Street responded. A total of 32 engines, 10 trucks, and two water towers responded to the 11:00 a.m. blaze, which was extinguished in about two hours.

For the Adams Express fire, the signal 9-9 was given by tapping the electric fire alarm bells throughout the city nine times, followed by a pause, and then nine more times.

The fire, which started in the basement of 61 Broadway (possibly due to a careless employee with a lit cigar or matches), destroyed or damaged most of the Adams Express Company’s waybills, records, and other papers. All the currency, bullion, and other valuables in the fireproof safes and strongboxes were salvaged, albeit, water damaged.

Included in the saved items was a box containing numerous artificial skulls belonging to a theatrical company. The life-like skulls presented a ghastly sight when they fell out of the box and scattered along Broadway as the firemen were hosing down the building.

Although no civilians were killed or severely injured in the fire, six clerks—T. Edgar, J. Cavanagh, Henry Haas, Thomas Claire, A.J. Wilson, and James Schiebles–had to escape the burning building by tossing a rope fire escape out a second-floor window and sliding to the ground. Fireman Charles Beckingham of Engine Company No. 4 on Maiden Lane was injured when he was struck by falling glass. Other firemen just barely escaped injury when the rear wall of #59 collapsed onto Trinity Place.

New-York Tribune, March 27, 1904
Adams Express FIre on Express Row
A few hours after the Adams Express fire. New-York Tribune, March 27, 1904
Smoke the Fire Dog

One other “firefighter” injured during the incident was Smoke, a fire dog attached to Engine Company No. 32 at 108 John Street. Smoke was reportedly urging the horses to run faster when one of them kicked his right paw while the engine was approaching Wall Street.

Smoke limped into Wilson’s drug store, where he a clerk by the name of John Ralphs treated him for his injured paw. He then returned to his engine company and remained on duty for the rest of the day.

No social distancing here. Crowds of bankers, clerks, and and other office workers from the financial district gathered on Broadway to watch the Adams Express fire on Express Row.
No social distancing here. Crowds of bankers, clerks, and and other office workers from the financial district gathered on Broadway to watch the fire.
The Stranded Cat Colonies of Express Row

One week after the Adams Express fire, cats of all colors and sizes began prowling around the financial district. Tenants in neighboring office buildings, occupants in boarding houses on Greenwich Street, and tenement dwellers west of Trinity Church all started receiving visits from these strange cats, who were in turn tried to make new deals to be adopted and furnished with food and lodging.

Cat Colonies Scattered, Adams Express Fire, March 27, 1904

This overflow of felines puzzled most people, who were not aware that a large cat colony was on the payroll of Adams Express and all the other big express companies occupying the buildings of “Express Row.” The cats lived in the cellars and sub-cellars of these buildings, and prior to the fire, most of them had never seen the light of day before.

Just like the feline police force of New York’s Post Office, the Express Row cats were responsible for keeping the rats and mice at bay. Thousands of waybills between shippers, express companies, and railroad officials were stored in the cellars, and it was the cats’ job to keep the rodents away from these important papers. As The New York Sun noted, “One healthy rat with a voracious appetite to banquet on waybills would cause all kinds of trouble.”

In addition to their rat duty in the cellars, the cats were also responsible for patrolling the stables in the rear of the office buildings. These stables were breeding grounds for rats and mice, so a full complement of cats was needed for this job.

The Cellar Cats

Most of the Express Row cats were cellar-born, and thus, could start training during early kittenhood. On those rare occasions when the feline workforce started to decline, street cats were recruited from the outside world. It was the janitors’ responsibility to feed the cats at regular intervals, and to ensure the supply of cats did not diminish.

Adams Express only hired street cats when its staff of cellar-born felines had diminished.
Adams Express only hired street cats when its staff of cellar-born felines had dwindled down.

The cats employed at Adams Express and other shipping companies were all feral, so they often frightened the young clerks who had to venture into the dark underground storehouses in search of waybills.

Cats such as Speckled Pete, the Bold Trapper and Wild Bill, the Avenger took their jobs seriously, and did not appreciate when the young clerks entered their territory. Several clerks had to learn their lesson the hard way.

According to The Sun, all of the Express Row cats had escaped the burning buildings unharmed, but they were now scattered throughout the neighborhood. The hope was that when the companies re-established their offices in new buildings, some of the cats would return to the force.

If the janitors had to recruit new street cats for the waybill departments, the plan was to “borrow” working cats from other express companies “to act as instructors in organizing a rat police force to keep away four-legged marauders.”

Considering the size of the new Adams Express Company building erected eight years later, I have a feeling many cats found employment in this new building.

This end the cat portion of this story. If you are interested in history, please continue reading. There is a fishy surprise at the end.

A Brief History of Adams Express and Express Row

During the 19th and early 20th centuries, the southern portion of Broadway between Exchange Alley and Rector Street was home to Adams Express, American Express, Wells Fargo, and other smaller express shipping firms. Most of the companies of “Express Row” occupied old, mid-19th-century buildings, which The Sun described as “seasoned tinder boxes.”

Express Row included all of these buildings on the west side of Broadway between Trinity Church at Rector Street and Exchange Alley. Notice the Adams Express flag atop the second building from the left. Circa 1854; Museum of the City of New York Collections.
Express Row included all of the buildings on the west side of Broadway between Trinity Church (Rector Street) and Exchange Alley. Notice the Adams Express flag atop the second building from the left. Circa 1854; Museum of the City of New York Collections.

Adams Express began in 1839, when Alvin Adams, a produce merchant whose business collapsed during the Panic of 1837, began carrying letters, small packages, and valuables for clients between Boston and Worcester, Massachusetts. Adams quickly extended his territory to New York City (with offices at 16 Wall Street), Philadelphia, and other eastern cities.

Alvin Adams, founder of Adams Express Company
Alvin Adams (1804-1877)

The company moved into the Broadway offices sometime during the early 1850s.

Adams Express had many interesting clients over the years.

For example, abolitionist groups used the company in the 1840s to deliver anti-slavery newspapers from northern publishers to southern states. In 1849, a Richmond, Virginia slave named Henry “Box” Brown shipped himself to Philadelphia and freedom via Adams Express.

Following the fire in 1904, Adams Express continued to occupy the site on Broadway. In 1906, Adams Express began planning a new, fireproof building to be constructed on the site of 57-61 Broadway. The ram-rod straight, 32-story behemoth would be designed by architect Francis H. Kimball and have an official address of 61 Broadway.

When construction began in 1912, The New York Times and city planners expressed concerns about the skyscraper’s effect on sunlight and airspace. As with the Equitable Life Building (which was constructed a few years later after a fire destroyed the original building), they feared that the tall, straight building would block sunlight and cast shadows on nearby smaller buildings.

Unfortunately, construction began four years before the 1916 Zoning Resolution was enacted, requiring new buildings to have setbacks at certain heights, based on lot size.

The Adams Express Company occupied the building on the far left. When this photo was taken around 1885 during excavation work for the new streetcar line, 61 Broadway was occupied by the C.B. Richard Company’s Foreign Express. New York Public Library Digital Collections
The Adams Express Company occupied the building on the far left. When this photo was taken around 1885 during excavation work for the new streetcar line, 61 Broadway was occupied by the C.B. Richard Company’s Foreign Express. New York Public Library Digital Collections
A pneumatic caisson foundation constructed of 3,300 tons of steel and 1.2 million square feet of terracotta blocks lies under the 32-story Adams Express building, constructed in 1912-1914. This photo was taken prior to 1914, when the new American Express Building at 65 Broadway was completed. MCNY Collections
A pneumatic caisson foundation constructed of 3,300 tons of steel and 1.2 million square feet of terracotta blocks lies under the 32-story Adams Express building, constructed in 1912-1914. This photo was taken prior to 1914, when the new American Express Building at 65 Broadway was completed. MCNY Collections
The Fish at 61 Broadway

In 1998, Crown Properties purchased the 652,000 square-foot office building at 61 Broadway. At that time, the building was occupied by Merrill Lynch and MetLife. Oh yeah, and some fish.

According to Davar Rad, president of Crown Properties, the Adams Express building used to provide heat for surrounding buildings through huge boilers in its basement. The soot from these boilers was cooled by the high water table located directly under the building, which created a warm pool of water. The pool became a breeding ground for goldfish.

Cat with gold fish

Apparently, a building engineer first spotted the goldfish in 1988, when Met Life purchased the building. Ten years later, the engineer was still feeding them through a trap door in the basement floor.

I can’t determine if the fish are still living under the building. Maybe we need to send in a few cats to find out and take a survey?

Cats in the Mews: March 27, 1904

New York Sun, March 28, 1904
Kittens at Bishop Potter's Confirmation at Church of the Archangel
New York Sun, March 28, 1904

Six months after a brand-new Episcopal Church of the Archangel on St. Nicholas Avenue in Harlem was heavily damaged by fire in 1903, Bishop Henry Codman Potter administered the sacramental rite of confirmation at a new all-brick edifice still under construction. It was the first service held in the new church since the fire.

Because the main body of the church had not yet been completed, the service took place in the congregation’s Neighborhood Guild Hall. The large hall was located in the basement of a five-story rectory and “apartment building” attached to the church proper, and could accommodate 1,200 people.

Bishop Henry Codman Potter administered confirmation at the Church of the Archangel.
Bishop Henry Codman Potter (May 25, 1834 – July 21, 1908) was the seventh Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of New York.

On the day of the inaugural service with Bishop Potter, the hall was filled to capacity. But that didn’t stop a mother cat and her two kittens from squeezing in and attending the service. Apparently, Mama cat believed her two youngsters deserved to be confirmed in the church also.

Mama Cat Presents Her Kittens

According to the New York Sun, lay reader Allen Davidge Marr was just giving out the second lesson when one of the women in the choir let out out a loud cry. The woman was apparently the first to spot a ginger cat, who had been hiding behind Bishop Potter’s chair.

The cat ran into the north choir stalls, then back into the sanctuary, before making her way down the aisle and through the front door. While the younger members of the church attempted to hold back their merriment, Bishop Potter could only suppress a smile as best he could.

The congregation and the choir resumed its singing, but that did not last long. Soon, everyone in the front pew stopped singing. Like today’s “waves” at giant stadiums and auditoriums, the silence made its way pew by pew to the southern end of the large room, until only the members of the choir remained singing.

Bishop with a cat
Looking at this painting, one can imagine the mother church cat running out from under Bishop Potter’s red robe.

There, occupying the most prominent place on a platform that was currently serving as the sanctuary, stood the mother cat. She took one look around, and then quickly disappeared. When she returned, she was carrying a wee yellow kitten in her mouth. Everyone in the front pews put their heads in their hands and trembled with suppressed laughter.

Once again, the mother cat disappeared. There was a deep sigh of relief from the north aisle, and the singing resumed.

A few seconds later, Mama cat darted out from behind Bishop Potter’s crimson robe, and then vanished again under the robes of the ministers near the choir stalls. “Then, as the hymn burst forth with renewed vigor, she appeared on the platform exhibiting yellow kitty No. 2.”

The bishop sent a small boy up to the platform to encourage the mother cat to leave. Instead, the little boy grabbed one of the kittens, causing Mama cat to clutch her other kitten and make a made dash across the platform. When she realized her second kitten was missing, she scurried up the north aisle, across the stage, and back over the platform to where she had last seen her little one. A small “meow” coming from the direction of the boy led her to her kitten, which she carried away to safety.

The hymn came to an end and the confirmation service for the 30 young children began–albeit, without the two kittens.

A Brief History of the Church of the Archangel
All Soul's Church -- previously the Church of the Archangel -- surrounded by the Carvel Court and Warwick apartment buildings, around 1908. Museum of the City of New York Collections
The Church of the Archangel — now All Soul’s Church — surrounded by the Carvel Court and Warwick apartment buildings, around 1908. Museum of the City of New York Collections

The Episcopal Church of the Archangel was established as a Harlem mission sometime around 1894 by Rev. Dr. T.M. Peters, the Archdeacon of New York. For some time, services were held in hired rooms; later, the diocese purchased a lot on Harlem Avenue (now St. Nicholas Avenue) at 117th Street for 30,000 and constructed a simple church. The church’s first pastor was Rev. Ralph Kenyon.

In 1897, The New York Times described the Church of the Archangel as follows:

A pretty little church that brightened up Harlem Avenue, composed of vacant lots when it was built, and gave bright promise of welcome to the Episcopalians who should come to live in the neighborhood when that neighborhood was built up. It made no great architectural pretensions. The building is only one story high and simple in its outlines. But there is a touch of stained-glass about the windows and the interior is warm and agreeable in coloring. A very nice little church, indeed.”

Soon after Rev. Kenyon resigned from the parish around 1897, the church fell on hard times. The Roman Catholic Church of St. Thomas the Apostle, which was constructing its own church around the block on 118th Street, purchased the simple church. Reportedly, Father John J. Keogan wanted to prevent it from being purchased by the Salvation Army.

The Catholic congregation held services in the little Episcopalian church until its own edifice was completed. The small church was then used as a school for 900 students, until the building burned down on April 13, 1913.

Rev George Starkweather Pratt, Church of the Archangel

After the Church of the Archangel was sold, Rev. George Starkweather Pratt took over the congregation. The first service under his pastorship took place in the crypt of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine; services were also held in various dance halls in Harlem.

Under Rev. Pratt’s leadership, the parish eventually expanded and prospered as more families moved into the neighborhood.

By the end of 1899, Rev. Pratt had erected a temporary worship hall on St. Nicholas Avenue at 114th Street. One year later, the small hall was surrounded by two brand-new, 7-story apartment buildings. The new apartment buildings — the Warwick Apartments and the Carvel Crown Apartments — created a challenge for the congregation, which had been planning to construct a permanent church on its now sandwiched-in lot.

Enter Janes & Leo, the architects hired to design a new Church of the Archangel. Their solution was to design a combo church and rectory, which had never been done before (at least not in New York City). The newspapers called the design a “novel experiment” in church architecture.

Surrounding apartment buildings posed a challenge for the architects of the Church of the Archangel in Harlem

The new structure would be half residential and half ecclesiastical, with a five-story brick structure facing the street and a one-story frame building extending into the rear of the long-but-narrow lot. The structure facing the street would serve as a rectory and apartment building, and the rear of the structure would be the church proper. The entrance to the church would be through a formal church door that lead into a passageway running through and under the home of the rector.

The night before the grand new church was scheduled to open for services, it was severely damaged in a fire of unknown origin.

On the evening of September 27, 1903, Policeman Goodrich of the West 125th Street police station discovered a fire coming from the vestibule of the frame church. As flames pierced the windows and roof, all available fire apparatus above 59th Street were summoned to the blaze.

The Church of the Archangel was destroyed by fire in September 1903.
New York Times, September 27, 1903

The heat of the flames burst the windows in the Carvel Court Apartments at 80 St. Nicholas Avenue, causing the sashes to catch fire. An elevator boy ran the elevator up to the top floor to alert residents, and then stopped on each floor to warn everyone to get out of the building.

On the other side of the church, at 92 St. Nicholas Avenue, the elevator boy and janitor alerted residents of the Warwick Apartments. Panicked residents dressed only in night clothes ran into the streets carrying pet dogs, expensive gowns, and other articles of value.

Several people had to be rescued, but everyone survived. Police arrested five suspicious men, but it was later determined that the men were trying to rob the fleeing residents and had nothing to do with the fire. All church documents were lost in the fire.

Recalling the fire and the period in which the congregants had to worship in a dance hall and later at the Constance apartment house on 113th Street, Bishop Potter had this message for the congregation following the cat escapade and confirmation services in 1904:

I am afraid of the tendency which seems to be growing to make a church look more like a music, or dance, or lecture hall. I have no doubt that God hears more prayers in the kitchen and the bedroom than he does in the church, but it is nevertheless true the sacred and impressive atmosphere in a church or cathedral has a devotional influence. The scenery around us is more influential than many of us think.”

On March 14, 1905, the Church of the Archangel merged with All Souls’s Church. Rev. Pratt continued to lead that congregation until his sudden death at the age of 72 in 1920.

In July 1932, the church was the scene of a rebellion, when the all-white vestry announced that the church would be segregated and black congregants, who made up 75 percent of the congregation, would have to worship in separate services. Bishop William T. Manning interceded and demanded that church services be open to all those souls who chose to attend.

I am going to assume that “all those souls” would include cats, too.

If you enjoyed this story, you may also want to read about the mother cat who lived with her kittens inside a church organ in Brooklyn in 1902: https://hatchingcatnyc.com/2020/02/17/cat-family-lived-in-church-organ/

On March 14, 1905, the Church of the Archangel merged with All Souls's Church
All Souls’ Church
The church proper is hidden behind the five-story rectory building.

Cats in the Mews: March 25, 1890
Mrs. Jane Duncan lived with at least 6 kittens and 17 adults cats in her apartment at 30 Bedford Street (this is not an actual depiction of her but it’s probably a good representation).

On March 25, 1890, Jefferson Market Police Court Justice White committed Mrs. Jane Duncan to the care of the Commissioners of Charities and Correction “for examination as to her sanity.” The sentencing stemmed from charges from her landlord, Dr. Thomas C. Knox, who owned a small building at 30 Bedford Street, on the southeast corner of Carmine Street.

Jefferson Market fire towwer and court
Jane Duncan was sentenced at the Jefferson Court Market, at the intersection of Greenwich Avenue and Sixth Avenue (now the Jefferson Market Library). The block originally housed a dingy police court over a saloon, a volunteer firehouse, a jail, and an octagonal wooden fire lookout tower constructed in 1833. Photo circa 1860, Jefferson Market Library.

Dr. Knox, a former city coroner, operated a drug store on the ground floor of the building. In 1888, he rented some rooms above his shop to Jane Duncan and her late husband, William W. Duncan, a carpenter. William died on March 17 at the age of 63, leaving 58-year-old Jane alone — in the human sense — with her 29 felines.

According to an article in The Sun, Jane had refused to attend her husband’s funeral, choosing instead to stay locked up with her cats. She also refused Dr. Knox’s offer of assistance. The couple had married late in life, so they did not have any children.

Crazy Cat Lady of Bedford Street, New York Sun
New York Sun, March 26, 1890

During her court hearing, Jane begged Court Officer Farrell to allow her to stay with her cats on Bedford Street. Sadly for both Jane and her feline friends, her sanity was at question, and thus, she had to be taken away from her home for closer medical examination.

Neighbors on Carmine and Bedford Streets told The Sun reporter that Jane had been “harmlessly insane.” Over the past two years, she had isolated herself from all humans except for her husband, and she devoted all her time to her cats.

William had provided liberally for her and the cats, but even he spent most of his time out of the house. Every morning the butcher delivered a large supply of the best porterhouse steak for the cats, which he left in the hallway for William to pick up when he returned from his carpentry jobs (the butcher and grocer were not allowed to enter the apartment; Jane kept the door barricaded at all times.) After her husband passed away, Jane had no other choice but to leave the apartment in order to purchase food for her and her pets.

The Fate of the Cats of Bedford Street

Following Jane Duncan’s sentencing, the court officer ordered an agent from the Bergh Society (ASPCA) to check on the status of the cats, as was permitted by a New York law passed in 1867 to expand the ASPCA’s oversight. As was reported in The New York Times, “the state of things that met his eyes when he entered was both pathetic and amusing.”

According to the Times, “a troop of cats great and small, young and old, of all colors and conditions, came eagerly toward the door, expecting to see, no doubt, their demented but gentle mistress. A chorus of feline cries of every pitch was sent forth, and it was evident that the cats were very hungry.”

Crazy Cat Lady of Bedford Street, New York Times
New York Times, March 26, 1890

Upon careful examination of the rooms, the agent found 23 adult cats and 6 kittens, of which a large yellow tomcat with “a most winning expression of countenance” appeared to be the boss. The room was filled with boxes filled with cats; a small box on top of a wardrobe contained the 6 kittens. “As might have been expected, the need of more thorough ventilation was apparent at once.”

Now here’s where it gets very sad, so you may choose to stop reading now. I am a journalist sharing history, so unfortunately I must finish this story, as cruel as it may be.

According to The Times, the agent put all of the bewildered adult cats on the street to fend for themselves; “their tender offspring consigned to a watery grave.”

The Sun reported a similar cruel ending, albeit, an even harsher outcome. According to the Sun, the agent drowned the kittens and then, when the adults cats refused to leave on their own accord, he tossed them from the second-floor window. As the terrified cats rained down on Bedford Street, “the accompanying protests in the strongest terms of the feline vocabulary were ear-splitting.”

As the reporter noted, “The people about Carmine and Bedford Streets think the agent of Bergh’s society sent to dispose of the helpless cats was guilty of all the cruelty which he was expected to prevent.”

Although the adult cats landed on their four feet and survived, “these were pampered aristocratic cats unused to the ways of the world and quite unable to make living from the unprotected refuse barrels of the neighborhood.” The neighborhood was already home to “a full complement of vagrant cats, and the idea of seventeen new and untrained voices added to the back-yard chorus drove people to thoughts of revenge and violence almost before the irresponsible agent of Bergh got away. It would not be safe for him to appear within ten blocks of Bedford and Carmine Streets again.”

I’m sure I’m not alone when I say that I hope the agent did show his face again in that neighborhood, and that he got his just deserts. (Can humans land on both feet if they are pushed from a second-floor window?)

The Herring Farm

Jane Duncan lived with her cats at 30 Bedford Street, just a few blocks southwest of Washington Square Park in the southern end of Greenwich Village. This area of the city was shaped by Dutch land grants allotted to Pieter Janszen Haring (who came to America in 1633) and to a small group of freed African slaves, who established the earliest farms on the land.

Map of the Herring Farm, 1869
Bedford Street is located on what was once the farm of Elbert Herring, which was about 100 acres bounded by present-day Bowery, Washington Square Park North, Bleecker Street, Hudson Street, and Christopher Street.
Bedford Street is located on what was once the farm of Elbert Herring (aka Haring), which was about 100 acres bounded by present-day Bowery, Washington Square Park North, Bleecker Street, Hudson Street, and Christopher Street. The farm included what would later become Washington Square Park, located near the top center of this 1869 map. Museum of the City of New York Collections

Under British rule, these farms were owned by Nicholas Bayard, Elbert Herring, and Trinity Church. During the early Federal period, Aaron Burr purchased the majority of these lands as a real estate investment. The farm was divided into lots in 1794, and in 1803, Burr began selling off parcels to speculative developers.

I have written extensively about the Herring Farm in the following cat tale from 1899 (this story also deals with some animal cruelty), so if you are interested in reading more about the history of the farm, check out this story: https://hatchingcatnyc.com/2018/02/26/cat-fell-west-fourth-street/

Cats in the Mews: March 20, 1904
Here's a photograph of Bellevue Hospital from 1875, It would be another 70 years before thousands of tons of landfill were used to create the East River Driver (later, the FDR), which is why all the buildings are so close to the water's edge. NYPL Digital Collections
Here’s a late 19th-century photograph of Bellevue Hospital. It would be many more years before thousands of tons of landfill were used to create the East River Drive (later, the FDR), which is why all the buildings are so close to the water’s edge. NYPL Digital Collections

In 1895, Miss Lillie James, a proverbial crazy cat lady, was admitted to the Insane Pavilion at Bellevue Hospital. According to her sister, Miss James’ obsession with her many cats had caused her to become mentally unstable.

Miss James agreed to being admitted–on one condition. The two cats that she brought with her to the hospital would also have to be committed to the asylum. After all, she said, it was the cats who were insane. She was perfectly sane and clear of mind.

“It is their conduct that has placed me in my present condition,” she told the doctors. “These cats and nine others have conspired against me and affected my health, with the idea of getting possession of my property. Are these guilty cats to go free while I am locked up?”

Although the hospital refused to admit the cats, one most wonder if they were allowed to stay on the grounds. By 1899, there were more than three dozen cats living at the large Bellevue Hospital complex. And in 1904, there was at least one feline in residence that we know about for sure: a white kitten named Red Cross.

Red Cross was a pure white kitten; vintage white kitten
This is not Red Cross.

Red Cross was born at Bellevue Hospital. She had full run of the complex, including the surrounding yards. Many of the doctors adored her, including Dr. Packer, who worked in the Insane Pavilion (aka, what was then called the psychopathic ward).

Although she was a pure white kitten when she was born, a mischievous intern decided to have some fun with the poor kitty. So, he took some carmine ink and painted crosses on her right and left sides. Hence, she was named Red Cross.

According to The Sun, “Red Cross didn’t seem to mind the doctor’s additions to her spectacular qualities. In fact, she seemed rather proud of them.”

Spring came right on time in 1904. And with it came a doubling of the sparrow population in the hospital yards. As The Sun noted, “They chatter and sqabble and fight for nest-building straws and the trees are alive with them.”

Now, this was the first spring for Red Cross, so she was very excited about all the avian commotion penetrating the otherwise grim hospital yards. “With switching tail and a bloodthirsty eye,” she reportedly made valiant efforts to catch the shadows that the birds cast on the ground. When she couldn’t keep the shadows pinned down, her excitement and frustration levels increased.

Vintage sparrow
Red Cross the cat loved chasing after the sparrows at Bellevue Hospital

At last, Red Cross looked up. She saw hundreds of tiny birds staring back at her, and taunting her from the treetops. With one flying leap, she clutched onto a tree trunk and began climbing.

As she made her way up the tree, the sparrows toyed with and sprang from branch to ever-higher branch. Soon, Red Cross was at the very tip of the topmost branch, with nowhere to go but down. She began meowing loudly as the doctors and attendants watched with both fear and amusement.

One man named Michael Haggerty suggested getting a blanket and holding it under the tree so she could jump down. Dr. Brooks told him that was a foolish idea. “She can climb back most of the way if she gets her nerve,” he said. “Let her have her own way.”

Dr. Crisler tried the woo her down with a “Here kitty, kitty!” Dr. Parker suggested getting a ladder, if one could find a ladder long enough to reach the top of the tree.

As the doctors and attendants debated on what could be done, Red Cross took matters into her own paws. She scrambled along the branch as fast as she could…and then she tumbled out of the tree, “bounding and scratching furiously at every branch she passed.”

According to The Sun, Red Cross did not, as one might expect, land on all four paws. She instead landed flat on her side. Dr. Whittbeck and Dr. Blackwell knelt beside her and ran their hands over her “gaudily emblazoned ribs.” No bones were broken, and her heart was still fluttering, albeit, faintly.

The doctors carried Red Cross into the reception room, where they administered “restoratives,” whatever that means. Soon she was back on her feet and purring.

According to The Sun, “She was patrolling the walks in the late afternoon sunshine yesterday as though she had just taken a new mortgage from the city on the whole establishment. But when sparrows in the tree tops chattered, Red Cross didn’t look up.”

If you’re interested in reading more about the history of Bellevue Hospital, check out the full story of Miss Lillie James and her cats in: 1899: Dewey, Stockings, and the Great Cat Hunt at New York City’s Bellevue Hospital