1857: The Horses and Cows Caught in the Firestorm at Wolfe’s Farm, Staten Island

Posted: 9th July 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Cows and Cattle Stories, Horse Tales
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Mille Farm, painted by John Bradley in 1835, is the earliest depiction of a Staten Island.
Mille Farm, painted by John Bradley in 1835, is the earliest depiction of a Staten Island. I’m not certain that Andrew Mille’s farm is the same one occupied by Joel Wolfe in the late 1840s and 1850s before New York State took over the land, but I do know that Wolfe’s Pond Park in Prince’s Bay is now on this very site. From the Staten Island Museum Collections

In 1799, the New York State Legislature relocated the Quarantine Establishment of the Port of New York from Governor’s Island to the northeastern tip of Staten Island, in the present communities of St. George and Tompkinsville.

This move to Staten Island was, for all intents and purposes, the start of the 60-year Quarantine War on Staten Island. The “war,” which pitted the local Board of Health and residents concerned about the spread of yellow fever against the Quarantine Commission, was a Not-in-My-Backyard (NIMBY) battle on steroids, with, sadly, vitriol and civil disorder not too different from what we see in our world today.

Joel and Udolpho Wolfe

In 1774, Benjamin Wolfe, a German Jew, emigrated to London. Two years later, he moved to Virginia, where he served under George Washington in the Revolutionary War for seven years. Major Benjamin Wolfe — now a very successful merchant — joined the army again in 1812, taking command of the troops in Richmond, Virginia. He passed away in 1818, leaving a large estate to his seven sons and one daughter.

Sometime around 1824, Joel Wolfe moved from his father’s home in Richmond to New York City, where he established a counting house at 109 Front Street. His younger brother Udolpho came to the city two years later and joined Joel as a clerk in the business. By this time, Joel was then largely engaged in the importation of brandy and gin from France and Holland.

The Wolfe's counting house at 109 Front Street burned down during the great fire of 1835, which broke out on December 16. The two-day conflagration destroyed the New York Stock Exchange and most of the buildings on the southeast tip of Manhattan around Wall Street. New York Public Library Digital Collections
The Wolfe’s counting house at 109 Front Street burned down during the great fire of 1835, which broke out on December 16. The two-day conflagration destroyed the New York Stock Exchange and most of the buildings on the southeast tip of Manhattan around Wall Street. New York Public Library Digital Collections

In 1839, Joel Wolfe established the first American-owned distillery in Schiedam, Holland. He also established a warehouse for his liquor business in a brick building at 27 Beaver Street (which burned down in July 1946).  Ten years years later, in 1849, Udolpho made some fortunate discoveries that led to the manufacture of the world-famous “Wolfe’s Aromatic Schiedam Schnapps,” which was manufactured at the Holland distillery.

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I found several Wolfe bottles for sale on eBay.

By this time, Joel Wolfe had retired from the liquor business, having amassed a fortune not only in gin but in real estate. In addition to his Manhattan residence at 305 Fifth Avenue — a four-story brownstone with a stable for his horses —  Joel owned property at 121 and 124 West Houston Street, six lots in the village of Wakefield, Bronx, and a farm on Seguine’s Point in Prince’s Bay (Westfield), Staten Island, which served as the Wolfe’s country seat.

The Wolfe Farm at Seguine’s Point

Following his retirement in 1848, Joel Wolfe and his wife, Rachel, spent much of their time at the family’s country seat on Staten Island. The 131-acre farm featured a large mansion house, a farm house, and several outbuildings, in addition to a very large freshwater pond.

The farm was just east of Prince’s Bay Road (today’s Seguine Road) and adjacent to the 140-acre tract of Joseph Seguine, a farmer, oyster harvester, and factory owner who had a dock and palm oil factory (Staten Island Oil and Candlemaking) at the water’s edge.

(The Sequine Mansion, a Greek Revival-style house built in 1838, still stands on Seguine Avenue, as does the Manee-Seguine homestead, built prior to 1700 near Purdy Place.)

In addition to farming, the “retired” Joel Wolfe served on the first Board of Directors of the first railroad on Staten Island, a 13-mile track completed in 1860 that ran from Vanderbilt’s Landing (today’s Clifton Station) to Etingville. (Joel and Udolpho were also accused of being rebels who were loyal to the Confederates during the start of the Civil War, but that’s another story.)

The Wolfe Farm was directly opposite the Prince's Bay Lighthouse, constructed in 1826 and pictured here in 1885.
The Wolfe Farm was directly opposite the Prince’s Bay Lighthouse, constructed in 1826 and pictured here in 1885. 

New York State Buys the Wolfe Farm

Back to the Quarantine War…

By 1849, infectious diseases from the Quarantine on Staten Island were epidemic among residents of the surrounding area. A Study Committee recommended that the Quarantine be removed to Sandy Hook, but no action was taken. The tipping point came in 1856, when 11 people on Staten Island died of yellow fever. A more remote location had to be found.

On May 1, 1857, the Quarantine Commissioners purchased 50 acres of the Wolfe Farm for $23,000 and vested the property in the people of the State of New York. Wolfe and his family moved out of the mansion and returned to their city residence (the mansion was going to serve as the residence of the quarantine’s physician). Wolfe put his former steward, Martin Morrison, in charge of the property until it could be fully conveyed to the state.

The Wolfe Farm Burns Down

On the morning of May 6, 1857, the Quarantine Commissioners issued an advertisement for the proposal of bids to erect several buildings for housing sick immigrants on the site. The ad enraged the local fisherman and oystermen, who feared that such a facility would contaminate the freshwater pond that they used to wash off their oysters. That evening, just around midnight, about 30 such men burned down one farm building after another in protest of the new quarantine.

This 1874 map of Richmond County (Staten Island) shows the Wolfe farm at left, most of which by that time was owned by New York State. Today's Wolfe's Pond is also visible.
This 1874 map of Richmond County (Staten Island) shows the Wolfe farm at left, most of which by that time was owned by New York State. Today’s Wolfe’s Pond is also visible.

They men started with the large mansion, which was occupied by Samuel Fitzpatrick (a family waiter), a young boy named James Murray, and a black girl named Mary Atkinson (possibly a slave; it has been reported that Joel and Udolpho had slaves). According to The New York Tribune, all three were sleeping in the house when the fire started. Fortunately, Mary heard the commotion and alerted the young men, allowing all three to escape by jumping from a second-story rear window.

The mob then proceeded to the two-story farmhouse, which was occupied by Martin Morrison, his wife and two children, a civil engineer, and a young boy hired to pack up the Wolfe’s furniture. Awakened by a flickering light from the flames, Mrs. Morrison alerted her husband to the fire. As the men set fire to the farmhouse, Martin shouted to his children and other occupants to make their escape as the flames closed in on them.

Within a few feet of the farmhouse was a large, nearly new cow barn filled with hay, straw, farming equipment, and two cows. One of the cows escaped but was severely burned and had to be killed; the other cow was consumed by the flames. A stable housing Joel Wolfe’s two horses — one a valuable brown mare — was also set on fire. According to news reports, both horses were led out of the stables safely by Mr. Fitzpatrick.

As the New York Herald reported on May 8, all the arsonists escaped:

At a distance, and within the confines of a wooded space, [the victims] saw the forms of men, gazing upon the spectacle with apparent delight. They laughed mockingly at the condition of the poor people, and then, like evil spirits as they were, disappeared in the darkness of night.

In June, the Quarantine Commission constructed two new hospitals, a wash house, and a small cook-house on about three acres of the former Wolfe Farm, all surrounded by a 10-foot-tall fence. The buildings were all constructed of wood on brick foundations. All of these buildings were set on fire less than a year later on April 26, 1858. No effort was made to rebuild or bring the incendiaries to justice.

Following this second fire, the quarantine station was relocated to Tompkinsville (and later, after mobs burned down those facilities, to Hoffman and Swinburne Islands). The state established a burial ground on the old Wolfe farm site — near today’s Holten Avenue — which it used for the burial of yellow fever victims through 1890. (Apparently, the cemetery was so close to the water that coffins sometimes washed out onto the beach.)

On September 1, 1858, leading citizens of Castleton and Southfield set several buildings of the new Quarantine at Tottenville in Staten Island on fire.
On September 1, 1858, leading citizens of Castleton and Southfield set several buildings of the new Quarantine at Tottenville on fire. The following night, the remaining buildings were burned to the ground. One man was killed during the ordeal. Following the fire, New York State brought suit against John C. Thompson and Ray Tompkins. They were acquitted of all charges by Judge Henry B. Metcalfe, a Staten Island resident who had argued for the removal of the old Quarantine in 1849.  

Wolfe’s Pond Park

Joel Wolfe died at his Fifth Avenue residence in November 1880 and was buried at Green-Wood Cemetery. In 1901, his estate sold the remaining 81 acres of the farm at Prince’s Bay. Although the land was sold to a private developer in 1907, it stood vacant, save for a summer bungalow colony, until New York City purchased the land in 1929 for the creation of a public park.

When the City acquired land for Wolfe’s Pond Park in 1929-30, it was a popular recreational spot for Staten Island residents and visitors from other boroughs and New Jersey. More than 90 bungalows and summer cottages that surrounded the freshwater pond were razed as a result of community protest in 1933, and substantial park improvements were undertaken.
When the City acquired land for Wolfe’s Pond Park in 1929-30, it was a popular recreational spot for Staten Island residents and visitors from other boroughs and New Jersey. More than 90 bungalows and summer cottages that surrounded the freshwater pond were razed as a result of community protest in 1933, and substantial park improvements were undertaken.

Located just 100 yards from the ocean, Wolfe’s Pond at Seguine's Point is a freshwater pond that was once a tidal inlet. In the 1700s and 1800s, oystermen used the pond to wash off their hauls of shellfish. Today, Wolfe's Pond Park is one of Staten Island's largest parks, offering numerous facilities including a beach, hiking trails, and tennis courts.
Located just 100 yards from the ocean, Wolfe’s Pond at Seguine’s Point is a freshwater pond that was once a tidal inlet. In the 1700s and 1800s, oystermen used the pond to wash off their hauls of shellfish. Today, Wolfe’s Pond Park is one of Staten Island’s largest parks, offering numerous facilities including a beach, hiking trails, and tennis courts. 

1926: Grumpy, “Jes’ an Ordinary, Plain, Everyday Dog” of a New York Banker

Posted: 30th June 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Animal Stories, Dog Tails
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Grumpy the bulldog didn't rise to fame on social media, but his owners treated him to the tallest monument at Hartsdale Pet Cemetery in Wesetchester County, New York, when he died in 1926. (Photo from the Douglas Grundy collection)
Unlike Grumpy Cat, the Internet feline sensation, Grumpy the bulldog didn’t rise to fame on social media, but his owners treated him to the tallest monument at Hartsdale Pet Cemetery in Wesetchester County, New York, when he died in 1926.  (Photo from the Douglas Grundy collection)

I recently made my annual pilgrimage to the Hartsdale Pet Cemetery in Westchester County, New York, to spend some time with Grumpy. The Hartsdale Pet Cemetery is rich in animal tales and history, which is why I love spending a few hours there to see what stories of Old New York are waiting to be unearthed, so to speak.

Each pet monument is a treasure in its own way, but there are always a few that catch my fancy on every visit. As I’m always drawn to Grumpy Bizallion, I thought it time to explore the story of this beloved bulldog.

For years, Grumpy’s monument was the tallest at Hartsdale Pet Cemetery, standing just over six feet. Unfortunately, the foundation weakened over the years, putting the stone at risk of tipping over. For safety reasons, the cemetery cut the Grumpy monument into two pieces.

Here is the Grumpy monument today, in two pieces. Photo by P. Gavan
Here is Grumpy’s monument today, in two pieces. Photo by P. Gavan 

According to the monument, Grumpy was born on August 4, 1913, and died on September 20, 1926. We also know that his pet parents were Emma and Henry Bizallion, and that they loved him very much. Underneath the bronze relief bearing Grumpy’s likeness is carved, “His sympathetic love and understanding enriched our lives. He waits for us.”

But who were Emma and Henry Bizallion, and what is their story? Why was this bulldog named Grump so important to them – even though he was presumably a grump?

Henry H. Bizallion and Emma Loriett Coy

Henry Herbert Bizallion, the first of three sons born to Eugene Bizallion and Martha A. Seaver, entered the world on May 17, 1870, in a small town in Rutland County, Vermont. His father, a Canadian, excelled as a wood cutter when this skill was in great demand during the construction of the railroads, and then later worked as a cheese maker in Middletown Springs, Vermont.

Henry graduated from Saint Johnsbury Academy, and on June 13, 1893, he married Emma Loriett Coy, the daughter of Martin Coy and Susan Greene of Middletown, Vermont. At some point between their marriage and 1900, the Bizallions moved to New York City, where Henry worked in the banking industry.

From 1900 to 1910, Henry Bizallion moved quickly up the banking corporate ladder.

In 1900, while living with Emma at 32 Hamilton Terrace in the Hamilton Heights section of New York, Henry was working as an assistant cashier at the Riverside Bank on Eighth Avenue near Columbus Circle. Five years later, they were living closer to the bank at the new Hotel Lucerne, an upscale residential hotel at 201 West 79th Street constructed in 1903. By 1908, the year that Riverside Bank merged with the Hamilton Bank and the Northern Bank of New York, Henry was a full-fledged cashier (an officer position) as well as a director of the bank.

In 1905, Henry and Emma were living at the Hotel Lucerne on the corner of Amsterdam Avenue and West 79th Street.
In 1905, Henry and Emma were living at  the Hotel Lucerne on  the corner of Amsterdam Avenue and West 79th Street.

Just prior to the merger, Henry resigned from the Riverside Bank. He and a few banking friends collected $200,000 and formed the new Gotham National Bank organization, to accommodate the new automobile trade. They rented the store and basement occupying the Eighth Avenue front of William R. Hearst’s New York American Building at Columbus Circle, and in April 1910,  Henry was named president of new The Gotham National Bank of New York.

By this time, the Bizallions were living in one of the four-story brick apartments at 229-235 East 105th Street in East Harlem. Although they had been married for 17 years, they had no children. I’m not sure what Emma did to pass the time, but Henry kept busy with the bank as well as with his positions as an officer of the Central Park West and Columbia Avenue Association and the director of the Broadway Association.

The Dog Lovers’ Protective Association of America

According to published court reports, the Bizallions left their apartment in New York City and moved to Summit, New Jersey, sometime around 1912. It was here in the suburbs that they adopted a bulldog puppy named Grumpy.

Two years later, in 1914, Henry Bizallion joined Ellin Prince Speyer, Mrs. Vernon Castle, James Gardner Rossman, and several other notable New York and New Jersey dog lovers in forming the Dog Lovers’ Protective Association of America (DLPAA).

The DLPAA, created in response to a dog-phobic atmosphere, was primarily for the owners of “jes’ dogs” – in other words, ordinary canines that were not bred or considered to be pedigrees. It’s not that Henry and the over 100 other members frowned upon dog aristocracy; they just preferred to promote “ordinary, plain, everyday dogs” like Grumpy. (In fact, Agnes Rose Rossman, secretary and wife of association president James Gardner Rossman, raised Maltese terriers and had won “Best in Show” at the Westminster Dog Show.)

GothamBank1_HatchingCat
From 1910 to 1925, the Gotham National Bank was located in the American Building at the junction of Broadway, 8th Avenue, and Columbus Circle. Through mergers and name changes, the bank was later known as the Chemical Bank, Chase Manhattan Bank, and JPMorgan Chase Bank. NYPL Digital Collections

The DLPAA also advocated for a special show for dog heroes – thoroughbred or mongrel — in response to pending legislation to address the large number of dogs running at large in New York City. Apparently, New York Board of Health Commissioner Sigismund Schulz Goldwater was trying to terrify the public regarding the menace of the dog, and wanted to make New York a dogless city.

Here’s a snippet of what Dr. S.S. Goldwater wrote in the January 1915 edition of the American Journal of Veterinary Medicine:

“The dog must go. He must go where he belongs to his proper place — to the country. Assuredly I favor the exile of all dogs from Manhattan Island. I hope to see New York City a dogless town.”

He went on to say that although he was fond of dogs, “In a policed community, the pet dog is superfluous. No true lover of dogs will bring a dog into the wretched and unhappy surroundings of city life.” (Dr. Goldwater also wanted to ban all cars from the city, but that’s another story for another blog.)

In response to Goldwater, DLPAA president James Gardner Rossman wrote:

“Not until the emotions of love, courage, faithfulness, devotion, [and] companionship can be legislated out of the heart of man will man tolerate without resistance legislation which is simply persecution of his dumb companion and most faithful friend the dog.”

SSGoldwater_HatchingCat
Dr. S.S. Goldwater wanted to ban all dogs from New York City in 1915. In 1933, Mayor LaGuardia appointed him as the city’s Commissioner of Hospitals. I bet he’s rolling in his grave over therapy dogs in hospitals!

Obviously, this crazy proposal to ban all dogs from the city went down with the S.S. Goldwater ship, so to speak.

The Wicks-Brown Dog Licensing Bill

In the summer of 1916, New York Senator Charles Wells Wicks proposed new legislation titled “An Act of Encouraging the Sheep Industry.” The law was reportedly designed to help New York sheep farmers by protecting them from the alleged ravages of dogs roaming at large.

Often called the Wicks Law or Wicks-Brown Dog License Law, the law required dog owners to pay a $3.25 licensing fee for females and $2.25 for male dogs. Owners of dogs captured at large  would have to pay a $10 pound release fee. Supposedly, monies collected from these fees would be used to help farmers purchase new sheep to replace those killed by dogs.

The Wicks Dog Law also required that all peace officers kill dogs seen attacking or chasing sheep, fowl, or other domesticated animals (cats and other dogs), or when seen just roaming at large beyond its owner’s premises without wearing a mandated license tag (the officers would first have to make a reasonable effort to secure the dog and fail). In fact, anyone could kill, without recourse of law, any such dog committing these acts.

Many prominent people, including William O. Stillman, President of the American Humane Association, were openly opposed to the bill. Even some sheep farmers thought it was shear madness. As opponents noted, the bill offended nearly 200,000 dog owners in New York State in order to please a few hundred sheep owners who were hurt, not so much by roaming dogs, but by cheap Western grazing lands and foreign competition.

S.O.S. for Dogs in New York City

Although Wicks Law did not apply to New York City and other large cities in the state, it would affect those dogs whose families took them to places like Long Island, Westchester County, or other counties beyond Manhattan. If a city dog such as Grumpy got loose in the country, he could be shot, simple as that.

Henry H. Bizallion and his friends at the Dog Lovers’ Protective Association of America called the Wicks Law “the most vicious dog legislation that has ever been attempted in the United States.” In response to the bill’s passage in the New York Senate (by a vote of 31 to 14), they filed a petition with Governor Charles S. Whitman in May 1917, asking him not to sign the bill into law. The title of their petition was S.O.S. for Dogs.

The association also proposed a new bill that would make dogs the personal property of their owners (so they would have the same status and protection as horses and cattle), and that would hold dog owners responsible through civil court action for damage done by their animals (instead of killing the dog).

Despite everyone’s efforts, Governor Whitman signed the Wicks-Brown Dog License bill into law on June 30, 1917. The final law included a provision requiring that all law-breaking dogs be held 10 days before being killed; also, toy dogs under 10 pounds were excluded from the killing requirements.  

Eighteen months later, the New York World reported that $279,000 in fees had been paid to farmers to cover losses or damages to not only sheep but to horses, cows, pigs, chickens, rabbits, and goats. Some small-town assessors and constables also made out well with their share of the fees.

The Waiting Years

Following the death of Grumpy in 1926, Emma and Henry Bizallion moved again, this time to a house on Brevort Farm Lane in Rye, New York. I’d like to think that they chose a home in Westchester County to be closer to the Hartsdale Pet Cemetery, the final resting place of their beloved Grumpy.

Grumpy did not have to wait long for Emma to join him in the afterlife. She passed away only nine years after his death on June 2, 1935, at the age of 64. She was buried in the Bizallion family plot at Pleasant View Cemetery in Middletown Springs, Vermont.

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 Lotta Van Buren Bizallion

Henry, however, hung on much longer. Sometime around 1940, he married Lotta Van Buren, a renowned ancient instrument restorer, collector, and musician, and the grand-niece of President Martin Van Buren. She had taught piano in New York for many years — perhaps she taught Henry — before retiring in 1940. She moved to California and married her “old friend, himself a musician,” in Maricopa, Arizona, on April 6, 1940.

Lotta V. Bizallion died in May 1960.  Henry joined his two wives and bulldog Grumpy on September 4, 1960, when he died in Santa Barbara, California, at the age of 90.

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Although a monument awaits Henry Bizallion in the family plot in Vermont, he was buried at the Goleta Cemetery in California. 

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1912: Miss Bacillus, the Guinea Pig That Survived the Equitable Life Building Fire

Posted: 18th June 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Animal Stories
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The Equitable Life Building was nothing more than a shell coated in ice.
The Equitable Life Building was nothing more than a shell coated in ice.

On January 9, 1912, just after 5 a.m., a careless worker tossed a lit match into a rubbish can in the basement of 12 Pine Street, located in the Equitable Life Building on Broadway at Cedar and Pine streets. Four hours later, when the fire was finally contained, six men, including two firefighters, were dead, and the once formidable Equitable Life Building was nothing more than a shell coated in thick ice.

An actual photo of the Equitable Life guinea pig taken in March 1912
An actual photo of the Equitable Life guinea pig taken in March 1912.

Two weeks after the fire, workmen who were trying to salvage the contents of the cellar vaults and safe boxes rescued a cat named Kaiser. But the cat wasn’t the only animal that had survived the fire.

A black guinea pig later named Miss Bacillus was also discovered during the salvage operation.

Somehow, the poor guinea pig had survived 16 days in the extreme cold, imprisoned in a small cage without any food or water.

Miss Bacillus had been brought to the Equitable Life Building by Dr. A.S. Wolf, who had an office on the third floor of the Pine Street side of the building. Dr. Wolf was reportedly conducting some “experiments” with the guinea pig for medical insurance purposes. (Dr. Wolf seems an appropriate name if this is true.)

Although this part of the building had not been destroyed by the fire, the office had been completely damaged by water and ice, and so no one thought to look in the room for survivors, human or otherwise. It wasn’t until Dr. Wolf heard a very faint squeak while recovering personal items from his office that the guinea pig was discovered.

The guinea pig survived for over two weeks in an office of the Equitable Life Building without food, water, or heat.
The guinea pig survived for over two weeks in an office of the Equitable Life Building without food, water, or heat. 

Dr. Wolf let the guinea pig out of her cage, and she immediately scampered across the office to where he stored her food. When he brought her back outside, hundreds of people who were waiting their turn to go into the building to retrieve their contents from the safe deposit boxes gathered around the cage in awe.

Dr.Wolf turned out to be a pretty good guy. He reportedly gave his guinea pig to Henry W. Ward of Washington, D.C., whose young son was mourning the recent loss of his pet guinea pig. In March 1912, Mr. Ward brought their new pet back to New York City, where “Miss Bacillus” shared the spotlight with Kaiser the Faithful cat at the Woman’s Industrial Exhibition.

Henry Ward holds his new pet guinea pig.

A Look Back on Broadway at Pine and Cedar Streets

The acre of land on which the Equitable Life Building was constructed was previously just a small portion of a large farm owned by an early Dutch settler and trader named Jan Janszen Damen (or Dam). Jan Damen acquired the property through a Dutch land grant in 1644 from Governor William Kieft — just 9 years before the “great wall” was built.

The rolling property extended from present-day Pine Street to Fulton Street on the west side of Broadway, and from Pine Street to Maiden Lane east of Broadway.

According to the Castello Plan for New Amsterdam of 1660, only six houses and a windmill stood outside the "great wall" (Wall Street) along the Heere Straat (Broadway). Two of those houses -- #5 and #6 on the map -- were owned by Jan Damen (the windmill may have been a very large haystack behind Damen's farmhouse). The Equitable Life Building was constructed on this land in 1870
According to the Castello Plan for New Amsterdam of 1660, only six houses and a windmill stood outside the “great wall” (Wall Street) along the Heere Straat (Broadway). Two of those houses — #5 and #6 on the map — were owned by Jan Damen (the windmill may have been a very large haystack behind Damen’s farmhouse). The Equitable Life Building was constructed on this land in 1870. Click here to zoom in on the map for more details.  

Jan Damen erected a large farmhouse (the “great house”), a few outbuildings, and a “small house” on Heere Straat just north of what we call Wall Street. The great house was near the corner of today’s Cedar Street, and the small house occupied what is now Pine Street and Broadway.

According to the Key to the Castello Plan, the six houses "Beyond the Wall" were as follows: #1 was owned by Sybout Claessen (this is where 96 Broadway is today); #2 was a small cottage owned by Jacques Pyrn; #3-4 were owned by Hendrick Pietersen; #5-6 were the Damen houses. The formal garden on the west side of Broadway was laid out by Jan Pietersen Verbrugge and is today part of the Trinity churchyard.
According to the Key to the Castello Plan, the six houses “Beyond the Wall” were as follows: #1  was owned by Sybout Claessen (this is where 96 Broadway is today); #2 was a small cottage owned by Jacques Pyrn; #3-4 were owned by Hendrick Pietersen; #5-6 were the Damen houses. The formal garden on the west side of Broadway was laid out by Jan Pietersen Verbrugge and is today part of the Trinity churchyard.

According to the Key to the Castello Plan, “The great house stood diagonally across Cedar Street, on Broadway. If it could be reconstructed today, its south corner would probably touch the…Equitable Life Building.”

Surveyors laid out Wall Street along the lines of the original stockade in 1685; the wall was dismantled by the British colonial government in 1699.
Surveyors laid out Wall Street along the lines of the original stockade in 1685; the wall was dismantled by the British colonial government in 1699.

Following Damen’s death in 1651, his land was conveyed to his widow and her heirs.  Two years later the city — under the command of Peter Stuyvesant — erected a 12-foot tall stockade across the entire island to fend off attacks from Native American tribes.

In 1672, the Damen heirs sold the farmhouse to Dr. Henry Taylor. Their timing was perfect: A year later, the city ordered Dr. Taylor and all the other property owners north of the wall to demolish their homes because they were thought to be impeding the city’s walled defenses.

The Tulip Garden

In November 1664, Damen’s smaller house was purchased by Pieter Van Stoutenburg (aka Peter Stoutenburgh), another Dutch settler who came to New Amsterdam sometime around 1638. Stoutenburgh was at one time the city’s horticulturist, and is credited with bringing the first tulip bulbs to New Amsterdam. His half-acre tulip garden between present-day  Nassau Street and Broadway  was quite an attraction in those days.

In 1673, Peter Stoutenburgh was also ordered to demolish his home because it was too close to the great wall. However, Peter held onto the land until his death in 1699, when it was conveyed to his heirs.

Sometime during the early 1700s, the Stoutenburgh estate sold the former tulip garden property to the Dutch Reformed Church. The church constructed a parsonage on the site, which served as a residence for the minister of the Middle Dutch Church on Nassau Street between Cedar and Liberty Streets.

The Vauxhall Garden

Fast-forward about 60 years to 1797, when Jacque Madelaine Joseph De La Croix (aka Delacroix), a French caterer and confectioner, purchased the 37 x 140 foot parsonage plot from the Dutch Church for 3,950 pounds (less than $10,000). According to Delacrox, this was “a remarkable lot and large house…with large stone cistern, a very large ice house, handsome water works, and a fine garden of fruit trees.”

Delacroix moved his Vauxhall Garden several times over the years, but I imagine his gardens between Broadway and the Bowery, pictured here, looked similar to those on Broadway between Pine and Cedar streets.
Delacroix moved his Vauxhall Garden several times over the years, but I imagine his gardens between Broadway and the Bowery, pictured here, looked similar to those on Broadway between Pine and Cedar streets.  

Delacroix established a confectionery shop in the old parsonage at 112 Broadway, which he shared with John and M Paff, dealers in musical instruments. Behind the shop, he created a pleasure garden called Ice House Garden (later, Vauxhall Garden).

Opened on July 4, 1797, the garden was a popular resort that featured light refreshments and simple entertainment, including vocal and instrumental concerts. The admittance fee was 6 shillings, which included a glass of ice cream and punch or lemonade.

In 1825, Delacroix enlarged his shop at 112 Broadway to create the National Hotel (112-114 Broadway). Just next door, at 110 Broadway, was the Tremont Temperance House hotel. The New York Athenaeum, established in 1824, was on the corner of Broadway and Pine (from 1821-22, William Cullen Bryant edited the New York Review and Athenaeum in a building on this site). And at 120 Broadway, on the corner of Cedar, Francis Guerin, a celebrated restaurateur, operated a shop that was famous for its French cordials, bonbons, preserves, tarts, and confections.

In 1830, when this illustrated was created, Broadway between Pine and Cedar Streets was occupied by several hotels, including City Hotel on the west side and the National Hotel and Tremont Temperance Hotel on the east side of the street. It was on this site that the Equitable Life Building was constructed
In 1830, when this illustrated was created, Broadway between Pine and Cedar Streets was occupied by several hotels, including City Hotel on the west side and the National Hotel and Tremont Temperance Hotel on the east side of the street. 

In 1836, Delacroix sold the National Hotel to Charles St. John for $100,000. Sometime between then and 1867, the hotel was conveyed to General Daniel Butterfield, the son of John Butterfield, a founder of the American Express Company.

The Equitable Life Building was considered to be the first fire-proof building in the world.
The Equitable Life Building was considered to be the first fire-proof building in the world. 

The Equitable Life Assurance Society Steps In

In 1866, The Equitable Life Assurance Society purchased No. 116 and 118 Broadway, and in 1867, they purchased No. 120 from the American Express Company for $300.000. It was on this site that the original Equitable Life Building was constructed in 1870. This white granite building was six stories and had two steam-driven passenger lifts.

Gradually, the Equitable purchased additional parcels, including No. 112-114 — which they acquired in 1876 from Butterfield for just under $303,000 — No. 12 Pine Street, and a 50-foot plot at Broadway and Pine, which they bought from the Metropolitan National Bank in 1885 for just over $760.000.  After getting control of the entire block — called the Equitable Block — additions and improvements were made to the building.

In May 1868, seven buildings from the southeast corner of Cedar and Broadway downward were razed to make way for the original Equitable Life Building. This image from 1868, looking up Broadway from Pine Street, is the "last look" at these buildings before they were razed. New York Public Library Digital Collections
In May 1868, seven buildings from the southeast corner of Cedar and Broadway downward were razed to make way for the original Equitable Life Building. This image from 1868, looking up Broadway from Pine Street, is the “last look” at these buildings before they were razed. New York Public Library Digital Collections

Life After the Equitable Life Fire

Soon after the Equitable Life fire, the building was razed. This view of the empty lot is looking southeast at the corner of Pine Street and Nassau Street. New York Public Library Collections
Soon after the Equitable Life fire, the building was razed. This view of the empty lot is looking southeast at the corner of Pine Street and Nassau Street. New York Public Library Collections

In November 1912, ten months after the great fire, several leading bankers proposed turning the site of the former Equitable Life Building into a public park. At the same time, the Du Pont company was plotting to construct a 36-story building on the site.

Eventually, plans were approved for a new 36-story Equitable Building, which was constructed in 1913 on the same site. Noting its fireproof elevator shafts and doors,  the president of the contractors said “the new Equitable Building will be the nearest to an absolutely fireproof building in the world.”

The Equitable Life Building still stands on Broadway, on what was once a tulip garden and pleasure garden.
The Equitable Building still stands on Broadway, on what was once a tulip garden and pleasure garden.
EquitableBuilding20162_HatchingCat.JPG
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1912: The Ten Lives of Kaiser, the Equitable Life Building Fire Cat, Part II

Posted: 4th June 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Cat Stories
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Kaiser appeared in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle on March 12, 1912, just two months after her harrowing ordeal.
Kaiser appeared in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle on March 12, 1912, just two months after her harrowing ordeal.

On January 9, 1912, just after 5 a.m., a small fire started in a rubbish can in the basement of the Equitable Life Building at 120 Broadway. Four hours later, when the fire was finally contained, the Equitable Life fire was one for the books in the annals of the Fire Department of New York (FDNY).

As I mentioned in Part I of this Old New York fire cat tale, sometime during the fire, William Giblin, the president of the Mercantile Deposit Company; a clerk (Mr. Campion); and a watchman (Mr. Sheehan) became trapped in the cellar while searching for important documents in a massive vault.

Unbeknownst to them and their would-be rescuers at the time, a black and white cat named Kaiser was also trapped somewhere in that basement.

As firefighters poured water on the Equitable Life Building, it changed to ice in the sub-zero temperatures, turning the building into an ice fortress. Museum of the City of New York Collections
As firefighters poured water on the Equitable Life Building, it changed to ice in the sub-zero temperatures, turning the building into an ice fortress. Museum of the City of New York Collections

For almost two hours, Fireman Seneca Larke, Jr. of Engine Company No. 54 cut away at the two-inch steel bars in the basement windows with a hacksaw. As hundreds of gallons of water from the fire hoses poured down on Larke, freezing in the sub-zero temperatures as it fell, he worked frantically to get through the bars.

As he worked, Reverend McGean stood by to give Last Rites to the three men if the rescue efforts failed.

While the firemen continued to pour water into the basement, Kaiser the cat no doubt sought higher ground. I also imagine she was terrified – perhaps she even saw all of her nine lives flash before her eyes.

Giblin and Sheehan were eventually freed after about two hours. Sadly, Campion collapsed in Giblin’s arms just before the bars were cut away, and he succumbed to the icy cold conditions. Kaiser continued to hide.

When the flames were extinguished, there was nothing more than a shell of what was once a grand building. But inside that shell were two living creatures. Museum of the City of New York Collections
When the flames were extinguished, there was nothing more than a shell of what was once a grand building. But inside that shell were two living creatures. Museum of the City of New York Collections

Kaiser Is Rescued and Adopted

On January 25, 16 days after the fire started, workmen who were trying to salvage the contents of the cellar vaults and safe boxes found a “sad wreck of a cat” in the front part of the lower floor. She was weak and hungry, and grateful for the warm saucer of milk and beef chop that they gave her.

For hours the men tried to lure Kaiser out of the building, but she wouldn’t budge from her charge. Even as one portion of the building after another collapsed or was demolished, she refused to leave. She simply moved from one corner to another until at last, there was nowhere left to hide.

Eventually, the men had to force her into a crate and carry her out of the building she had called home for the past five years.

In March 1912, Kaiser made a guest appearance with Miss Lewis in the Woman's Insurance Department Booth at the Women's Industrial Exhibition. Also pictured are Mrs. Dimock (president of the WIE) and Mrs. Henry (directress).
In March 1912, Kaiser made a guest appearance with Miss Lewis in the Woman’s Insurance Department Booth at the Women’s Industrial Exhibition. Also pictured are Mrs. Dimock (president of the WIE) and Mrs. Henry (directress).

Miss Edna Blanchard Lewis, a pioneer female insurance broker (she was called “the only woman insurance broker in the world”) and former instructor at the New York Institution for the Instruction of the Deaf and Dumb, reportedly received permission to adopt the cat and take her home to Morningside Heights.

Kaiser’s brawny rescuers had tears in their eyes as they bade goodbye to their rescued feline friend.

Kaiser was taken to her new home at 480 West 119th Street, where she was given a bath and then brushed, petted, and hugged (not necessarily in that order). She was also given a new name: Kaiser the Faithful.

Over the next few years, Kaiser the Faithful enjoyed sunning herself in the window (this cat could take the heat!) and sleeping in her own roomy basket. She appeared as an “exhibition” at several shows, including the Woman’s Industrial Exhibition at the Grand Central Palace in March 1912 and 1914, and at the Empire Cat Club’s show of cats, held in conjunction with the Empire Poultry Association in December 1912.

Kaiser the Faithful’s Jeweled Collar

Kaiser the cat's jeweled collar.
Kaiser the cat’s jeweled collar.

Miss Grace Hazen, a jeweler who taught in her studio at the National Arts Club in New York, presented Kaiser with a new bedazzled collar (pictured above) that featured a hammered silver design showing high buildings, clouds, and flames. The collar was inscribed: Faithful, Through Fire, Water, and Air. On the back was a cat’s eye jewel, and on each side was a topaz (a topaz also hung from the buckle). The silver plate was mounted on a soft gray leather collar.

I do not know how long Kaiser the Faithful continued to live in the lap of luxury, but I do know that her human mom was quite wealthy, so I’m sure she purred through the final years of her tenth life. Just 21 years after Miss Lewis came to Kaiser’s rescue, she died at the young age of 51 on December 25, 1933, in her apartment at the Hudson View Gardens on 183rd St. and Pinehurst Avenue in Washington Heights.

Kaiser the Faithful is wearing her collar in this photograph taken by New York City playwright Edith Ennis Furness. (I love the last name!)
Kaiser the Faithful is wearing her collar in this photograph taken by New York City playwright Edith Ennis Furness. (I love the last name!)

Another Furry Surprise

In the final part of this Old New York fire cat story, I’ll tell you about another animal that was rescued from the Equitable Building after spending over two weeks in a cage without food or water. And we’ll explore the history of the Equitable Building site, going back to 17th-century Dutch New Amsterdam.

1912: The Ten Lives of Kaiser, the Equitable Life Building Fire Cat, Part I

Posted: 29th May 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Cat Men, Cat Stories
Tags: , , , , , ,
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Kaiser, pictured here in the Christian Advocate Vol. 87 in 1914, was described as a glossy black cat with dainty white nose, breast, and mittens.
Kaiser, pictured here in the Christian Advocate Vol. 87 in 1914, was described as a glossy black cat with dainty white nose, breast, and mittens.

Many articles have been written about the iconic Equitable Building fire, but few mention Kaiser, the Equitable Fire Cat. I came across one small article published in 1914 that made brief mention of a cat, and I did some research. I’ll share my findings in this two-part cat tale of Old New York.

Philip Lights a Match

On January 9, 1912, just after 5 a.m., Philip O’Brien, an employee at the Café Savarin restaurant in the Equitable Life Building, lit the gas for a stove in his small office at 12 Pine Street, on the corner of Broadway.

The Café Savarin, which opened in 1888, occupied eight floors of the Equitable Building. Philip O’Brien’s office — described more like a small booth — was in the basement among the wine vaults and a receiving room for supplies. Not too far away were the steam elevators and dumb waiters that opened at each floor.

The basement was also a favorite hunting ground for Kaiser, a black and white cat that had been on rat patrol at the Equitable Building since about 1907.

On this morning, Philip O’Brien must have been distracted, because he admitted to throwing the still-lit match in the garbage. Less then 20 minutes later, his office was engulfed in flames. As Philip and other employees tried to extinguish the flames, the fire spread to the elevators and dumb waiters, giving it access to the entire Equitable Building.

When the Cafe Savarin opened in 1888, The New York Times called it a "gorgeous eating house for New Yorkers who appreciate the gastronomic art." The cafe, named after Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, cost "no less than $1 million" to furnish throughout.
When the Cafe Savarin opened in 1888, The New York Times called it a “gorgeous eating house for New Yorkers who appreciate the gastronomic art.” The cafe, named after Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, cost “no less than $1 million” to furnish throughout.

As the fire raged inside, the winds were gusting up to 68 miles an hour outside, making the sub-freezing temperatures even colder. Down in the basement Kaiser was just waking up to start a new day of rat catching.

The Equitable Building

Completed on May 1, 1870, the eight-story Equitable Building at 120 Broadway was considered the first skyscraper in New York City (it held the record for 14 years as the world’s largest building at 130 feet). It also featured the first public elevators in the city (it had 6 Otis elevators).

EquitableLife3_HatchingCat
The Equitable Building, which was actually five buildings constructed over time and connected together, occupied the entire block bordered by Broadway, Nassau, Cedar, and Pine streets. Cafe Savarin was on the Pine Street side of the structure.

The building was home to some of the most well established banking, insurance, and law offices of the Gilded Age, such as the Hanover Fire Insurance Company, Mercantile Trust Company, Union Pacific, and the exclusive Lawyer’s Club.  The main tenant and owner was the Equitable Life Assurance Society, hence the building was often called the Equitable Building or the Equitable Life Building.

In the basement of the Equitable Building, where Kaiser worked as head mouser, safe boxes and vaults were filled with several billion dollars worth of securities, stocks, and bonds.

In 1909, plans were filed to replace the building with the structure (below left), a 62-story building (909 feet) that would have been the second tallest man-made structure (the Eiffel Tower is 984 feet tall).

Those plans obviously fell through. I wonder if I’d even be telling this story if the new building had been constructed as planned.

The Great Fire of 1912

At 5:34 in the morning on January 9, the first fire alarm was pulled at Box 24 on the corner of Pine and Nassau streets. The first due responding fire companies (four engines, two ladders, two battalion chiefs, and the deputy chief of the First Division) arrived within minutes.

The first-in engine company, Engine 6, which was stationed at 113 Liberty Street, immediately stretched a line into the cellar and began operating.

New Equitable building proposed in 1909
New building proposed in 1909

At 5:55, Deputy Chief John Binns transmitted second and third alarms. This brought Chief of Department John Kenlon and Fire Commissioner Joseph Johnson to the scene.

With the fire raging out of control, Brooklyn fire companies were also called in to help – it was the first time in the history of the city’s fire department that Brooklyn responded to a Manhattan fire.

Police Commissioner Rhinelander Waldo (who had resigned as fire commissioner shortly after the deadly Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in 1911), ordered police officers to shut down the Brooklyn Bridge to allow the responding companies to get to the Equitable Building as fast as possible.

Nine engines, four hook and ladder trucks, a water tower, a searchlight engine, and numerous hose tenders rolled into the scene under the command of Brooklyn Fire Chief Thomas Lally.

Oblivious to all that was going on around her, Kaiser continued to patrol the basement for rats and mice, just like she’d done for the past five years.

The water from the fire hoses turned the Equitable Building into a giant iceberg on Broadway. Some of the most haunting and yet artistic photographs were taken during and after the fire. Museum of the History of New York Collections
The water from the fire hoses turned the Equitable Building into a giant iceberg on Broadway. Some of the most haunting and yet artistic photographs were taken during and after the fire. Museum of the History of New York Collections

At about 6 a.m., the first of six casualties occurred when three waiters of Cafe Savarin were trapped on the mansard roof after trying to escape to the top floor by elevator. Firefighters tried to rescue them, but the ladders were three stories too short.

By the time the firefighters, including Fireman James F. Molloy of Engine 32, tried to rescue them with a rope-rifle shot from a neighboring building, the roof had begun to collapse.  The trapped men jumped to their deaths onto Cedar Street.

Fire Commissioner Joseph Johnson (left) with icicle-laden Chief John Kenlon.
Fire Commissioner Joseph Johnson (left) with icicle-laden Chief John Kenlon.

Fire Battalion Chief William Walsh and Captain Charles Bass of Engine 4 were also killed in the fire when the building caved in while they were doing a search on the fourth floor. Fireman James G. Brown of Ladder 1, who was with Walsh and Bass, survived after being hurled through a door into another wing of the building by the air pressure of the collapse. His efforts to retrieve Walsh and Bass from the building failed, not for lack of desperately trying.

At the time of the collapse, William Giblin, the president of the Mercantile Deposit Company, a clerk, and a watchmen became trapped while searching for important documents in a massive vault. Giblin and the clerk were rescued from the basement two hours later, when firefighters were finally able to hack through the two-inch steel bars in the windows. The watchman did not survive.

FDNY Batallion Chief William Walsh

Kaiser the cat did not escape through the windows during this rescue, even as firefighters continued to pour water into the cellar to control the fire near the trapped men.

As the morning wore on, the temperatures dropped even more. Soon Broadway and nearby streets were coated with layers of ice, hoses were frozen solid, fire apparatuses were jammed, and the firemen were covered in icicles.

By the time the fire was finally contained at 9:30 a.m., the Equitable Building was an ice-covered tomb in ruins.

Recovery Efforts

On January 13, four days after the Equitable fire started, workers were finally able to crack through the ice and search for the body of Battalion Chief Walsh. It took many hours to free his frozen corpse from the ruins. The following day, the body of watchman William Campion, his hand still frozen to an iron bar on a window, was carefully removed from the cellar.

This haunting scene from the Equitable fire's aftermath is a chilling foreshadowing of the scene following the World Trade Center attacks on 9/11. Museum of the City of New York Collections
This haunting scene from the Equitable fire’s aftermath is a chilling foreshadowing of the scene following the World Trade Center attacks on 9/11. Museum of the City of New York Collections

On January 25, 16 days after the fire started, workmen who were trying to salvage the contents of the cellar vaults and safe boxes found a “sad wreck of a cat” in the front part of the lower floor. Kaiser, who apparently had more than nine lives, had miraculously survived the conflagration.

In Part II of the Equitable Fire Cat tale, I’ll tell you more about Kaiser’s rescue. And in the final part of this story, I’ll tell you about another surprising animal rescue from the building and explore the history of the site where the old Equitable Life Building one stood before a man named Philip tossed a lit match into a rubbish can.

Equitable Life Building Fire
Can you believe that a cat and another small animal survived almost two weeks without food and water in this ice fortress?

Click here for Part 2 and for Part 3 of the amazing cat story of Old New York.

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