1833: Isaac Van Amburgh, The Lion King of Greenwich Village and the Bowery, Part III

Posted: 9th April 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Animal Attractions, Animal Stories
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Part 3 of a 3-part story about Isaac Van Amburgh, the Richmond Hill estate in Greenwich Village, and New York’s Zoological Institute in the Bowery

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In 1833, Isaac Van Amburgh, aka the Lion King, made his New York animal training debut by stepping into a cage occupied by a lion, a tiger, a leopard, and a panther at the Richmond Hill Theatre in Greenwich Village. Following this appearance, Van Amburgh took his wild animals to the Bowery Theatre at #46 Bowery, which was then under the management of Thomas S. Hamblin. Here, Van Amburgh performed in a play titled The Lion Lord (aka Forrest Monarch), in which he starred with two leopards, a pack of hyenas, and two Bengal tigers.

During the play, Van Amburgh reportedly rode a horse up a high incline, and when he reached the top, one of the Bengal tigers sprung out upon him. Man and beast struggled down the ramp to the footlights in a desperate combat.

The Bowery Theatre -- originally called the New York Theatre -- was constructed in 1826.
The Bowery Theatre — originally called the New York Theatre — was constructed in 1826.

A Brief History of the Bowery Theatre

In the mid-1820s, under the leadership of Henry Astor, wealthy families that had settled in the new ward made fashionable by the opening of Lafayette Street formed the New York Association in efforts to bring fashionable high-class European drama to the new neighborhood.

They bought the land where Henry Astor’s Bull’s Head Tavern once stood, occupying the area between the Bowery, Elizabeth, Walker (present-day Canal), and Bayard streets. Then they hired architect Ithiel Town to design their new venue, which opened on October 22, 1826, as the New York Theatre.

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The New York Theatre — later the Bowery Theatre — was built on land once occupied by the Bull’s Head Tavern between Bayard and Pump (now Canal) streets. The tavern opened around 1750 and was famous for serving as temporary headquarters for George Washington in November 1783.  In 1813, the tavern relocated uptown to Third Avenue and East 24th Street, where it survived into the 1830s under the ownership of local butcher Henry Astor, patriarch of the notable Astor family. 

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The New York Theatre was destroyed by fire in 1828, but it was rebuilt behind the same facade and reopened under the name Bowery Theatre, shown here. This structure was damaged by a fire in September 1836, and again in 1838, and was replaced by a more opulent structure that opened in May 1839.

Under the management of Thomas Hamblin, who took over the theater in August 1830, large wild-animal acts, blackface minstrel acts, and spectacular productions with advanced fire and water effects featured prominently at the Bowery Theatre (the theater earned the nickname “The Slaughterhouse” during this period).

The Bowery Theatre -- later called the Thalia Theatre -- post 1845.
The Bowery Theatre — later called the Thalia Theatre — post 1845. 

Over the period of 100 years, the Bowery Theatre was damaged or destroyed by fire numerous times. Following a devastating fire in April 1845, a 4,000-seat theater was constructed by J. M. Trimble, pictured above. This structure had four more fires in 17 years, with the final fire coming on June 5, 1929.

By that time, the theater was under Chinese management and was called Fay’s Bowery Theatre. Today #46-48 Bowery is a squat, nondescript building occupied by a popular dim sum restaurant and several apartments in the heart of Chinatown.

On April 25, 1845, the Bowery Theatre, where Isaac Van Amburgh once performed, was destroyed in a large fire. Museum of the City of New York Collections
On April 25, 1845, the Bowery Theatre was destroyed in a large fire. Museum of the City of New York Collections

The Zoological Institute at 37 Bowery

Following his stint at the Bowery Theatre, Isaac Van Amburgh moved across the street to #37-39 Bowery, which was then home to a large menagerie called the Zoological Institute. From 1833 to 1838, he performed every winter at the Zoological Institute, and in warmer months, he took his own travelling menagerie on the road.

Constructed in 1833 by a group of New York businessmen known as the Zoological Institute or the Flatfoots, the Zoological Institute was a grand structure covering four city blocks. For 50 cents, visitors could examine bears, tigers, monkeys, hyenas, and other animals, all kept in individual cells along a great hall.

From the New York Evening Post, 1836. Article about Isaac Van Amburgh
From the New York Evening Post, 1836

The layout of the Zoological Institute was remarkable, even by today’s standards. Each exhibit — like the African Glen exhibit featuring a rhinoceros, elephants, and tigers — had beautiful displays and panoramas depicting the animal’s natural habitat. The floors were constructed at a slight incline leading to a drainage system that ran the length of the hall, which helped keep cages clean and eliminate odor.

Cages were numbered and corresponded to a guidebook for visitors, and the main gallery was illuminated by several skylights in the ceiling (at night, three gas-lit chandeliers illuminated the space). Above the animal floor was an orchestra promenade with a theater-like seating for special events, like lion taming, circus performances, and equestrian shows.

In 1835 the building was modified and renamed the Bowery Amphitheater, where P.T. Barnum landed a job in 1841 as an ad writer, earning $4 a week. The owners changed the name to the Amphitheatre of the Republic in 1842, and in 1844, under the management of John Tryon, it became the New Knickerbocker Theatre.

Over the next 50 years, the structure served as a circus, German-language theater, roller rink, and even an armory for the First and Third Regiment Cavalry. Today the site is occupied by Confucius Plaza, a large apartment complex constructed in 1975.

The Final Days of Van Amburgh and His Menagerie

By the mid-1840s, Isaac Van Amburgh was operating the largest traveling menagerie in England. Twenty years later, he had one of the largest traveling shows in America.

It all came to an end on November 29, 1865, when, at age 54, the brave lion tamer suffered a fatal heart attack at Miller’s Hotel in Philadelphia. Van Amburgh was buried at St. George’s Cemetery in the City of Newburgh, New York, but his name lived on for many more years.

On March 2, 1868, many of Van Amburgh's animals were killed in a fire at the Barnum and Van Amburgh Museum and Menagerie. New York Public Library Digital Collections
On March 2, 1868, many of Van Amburgh’s animals were killed in a fire at the Barnum and Van Amburgh Museum and Menagerie. New York Public Library Digital Collections

In 1866, a year after his death, Isaac Van Amburgh’s manager, Hyatt Frost, entered into a partnership with P.T. Barnum, who had just lost his American Museum on Broadway to a large fire. The new enterprise at 539-541 Broadway became known as the Barnum and Van Amburgh Museum and Menagerie. Tragically, almost all of the animals and other circus artifacts formerly owned by Van Amburgh were destroyed in a spectacular fire on March 2, 1868.

Van Amburgh’s name continued to be associated with other circuses until about 1922.

1833: The Lion King of Greenwich Village and the Richmond Hill Theatre

Posted: 3rd April 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Animal Attractions, Animal Stories
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Part 2 of a 3-part story about Isaac Van Amburgh the Lion King, the Richmond Hill estate in Greenwich Village, and New York’s Zoological Institute in the Bowery

Dressed as a Roman gladiator, Isaac Van Amburgh the Lion King emphasized his domination by using a crowbar to beat the animals into submission. It's no wonder he had his share of critics.
Dressed as a Roman gladiator, Isaac Van Amburgh the Lion King emphasized his domination by using a crowbar to beat the animals into submission. It’s no wonder he had his share of critics.

In 1833, Isaac Van Amburgh, aka the Lion King, made his New York animal training debut by stepping into a cage occupied by a lion, a tiger, a leopard, and a panther at the Richmond Hill Theatre.

In Part II of this old New York animal tale, I’ll tell you about the fate of the theater that once occupied the grand Richmond Hill mansion, and take a “then-and-now” look at the corner of Varick and Charlton streets in Greenwich Village, where the 26-acre estate once stood.

The Richmond Hill Estate of Greenwich Village

During his tenure at the Richmond Hill estate (1794-1804), Aaron Burr made several improvements to the mansion and grounds. One of the things he did was widen a brook on the property to create a larger body of water, seen here in the foreground, which was known in later years as Burr's Pond.
During his tenure at the Richmond Hill estate (1794-1804), Aaron Burr made several improvements to the mansion and grounds. One of the things he did was widen a brook on the property to create a larger body of water, seen here in the foreground, which was known in later years as Burr’s Pond. 

As I noted in Part I, the Richmond Hill mansion was built in 1767 by Abraham Mortier on land that he leased from the Trinity Church. The home of timber construction stood on a bluff overlooking the Hudson River, just west of today’s intersection of Charlton and Varick streets. It was reportedly painted yellow with a white portico supported by four large pillars.

The Richmond Hill estate has a fascinating history, which has been told many times (so I won’t get into details here). So I’ll fast forward to 1794, when Aaron Burr and his teenage daughter moved into the home (his first wife, Theodosia Bartow Prevost, had died that same year).

During Burr’s tenure at Richmond Hill, famous guests visited often and the dinner parties were lavish, to say the least. Unfortunately, Burr had difficulty supporting this lifestyle on his minuscule public-office salaries (it didn’t pay to be a senator or a vice president back then). Burr needed a plan to make more money.

Aaron Burr called Richmond Hill and Greenwich Village his home while serving as the country's third vice president (1801-1805).
Aaron Burr called Richmond Hill and Greenwich Village his home while serving as the country’s third vice president (1801-1805).

In 1797, as Manhattan’s residential development pushed northward, Burr tried to cash in on this opportunity by filing plans with the city to subdivide the estate’s grounds for “tract housing.” His plans called for the creation of three new streets running west from Macdougal Street to the Hudson River (Sixth Avenue did not yet exist): Burr; King (for Rufus King, a fellow U.S. senator); and Vandam (for Anthony Van Dam, a wealthy New York City alderman).

Although the city approved Burr’s plans, his debts prevented him from following through on them. In 1802, he allegedly tried to sell the estate for $150,000, but he received no offers. He eventually sold off some of the land and many of the home’s elaborate furnishings.

The final financial blow came in 1807, when Burr was put on trial for treason. Although he was acquitted, he could no longer hold onto the home. New York City rubbed even more salt into his wounds by expunging “Burr Street” from planning maps and renaming the proposed road Charlton Street in memory of Dr. John Charlton of the New York Medical Society, who had died months earlier.

In the end, Burr lost the Richmond Hill  estate to creditors, who in turn sold the mansion and the lease on seven acres of land to John Jacob Astor for a pittance.  Astor apparently tried to rent the home at first, according to an ad placed in the Mercantile Advertiser on April 8, 1812:

“The dwelling-house is in high and perfect order; the out-houses are numerous and convenient; the ground has a handsome forest, and affords pasture for a pair of horses and two cows. There is belonging to it an excellent kitchen garden, and the orchard has a variety of excellent fruit trees.”

I’m not sure if he got any takers on that offer, but I do know that by the 1820s Astor had begun to carry out Burr’s plans to develop the old Richmond Hill property.

These three town homes at 20-24 Charlton Street -- pictured here in the 1930s -- were constructed in the 1820s, when former fur trader John Jacob Astor began developing the land he had purchased from Aaron Burr's creditors in 1807.
These three town homes at 20-24 Charlton Street — pictured here in the 1930s — were constructed in the 1820s, when former fur trader John Jacob Astor began developing the land he had purchased from Aaron Burr’s creditors in 1807. 

Richmond Hill Rolls Down the Hill

In December 1820, right around Christmastime, John Jacob Astor applied the first major insult to the old Richmond Hill estate by rolling the mansion downhill on logs to the present-day southeast corner of Varick and Charlton Street — about 100 feet east of Varick, to be exact. (At this time, Varick Street was just a narrow dirt road that ran through the property.)

According to reports, the home was removed a distance of 55 feet in 45 minutes, without the slightest damage to the house or fixtures (even the chimneys remained intact). Astor turned the mansion into a summer resort featuring a tavern with gardens, and began leveling the hill on which it had stood.

In 1822, Astor opened Charlton, King, and Vandam streets as part of his plans to develop the neighborhood. He sold the church leases on the lots to carpenters and masons, who built the Federal-style private homes that still make up much of the neighborhood today.

Here are the same three town homes on Charlton Street as they appear today. Hundreds of years ago, this was the Richmond Hill Estate.
Here are the same three town homes on Charlton Street as they appear today. 

The Final Days of Richmond Hill 

Astor’s summer resort was apparently unsuccessful, because by 1819 the old Richmond Hill mansion was reportedly occupied by a traveling circus featuring the popular clown Charles M’Donald. Then on November 13, 1831, Richard Russell opened a fashionable theater called the Richmond Hill Theatre on the site, which featured Italian operas and a variety of performances, including an equestrian company and the daring act of Isaac Van Amburgh the lion tamer. Miss Annette Hawley Nelson, a popular actress, managed the theater in the summer of 1836 and Mrs. Hamblin took over in 1837.

By 1840, the old mansion was called the Tivoli Gardens and Saloon. A newspaper ad that year stated that the gardens featured a promenade concert on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings: “The whole garden is brilliantly illuminated with gas; an elegant band of music is engaged.” Admission was 12 1/2 cents, which included “any quantity of ice cream of superior quality”. Omnibuses ran directly to and from the gardens on a regular basis.

In 1843, the site reverted to a theater called Tom Flynn’s National Theatre. The structure was enlarged in 1846 and named the New Greenwich Theatre, and then in 1847, it was called the New York Opera House. The old mansion enjoyed temporary fame as a roadhouse and saloon before meeting its demise in 1849. Or should I say, before most of the structure met its demise…

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This illustration of the southeast corner of Varick and Charlton streets was published in 1907. As you can see, the old Richmond Hill mansion was replaced by frame homes and what was reportedly a horse stable. 

For some reason, a portion of the old theater was preserved when the homes and stables pictured above were constructed in the 1850s. On December 11, 1913, remnants of the structure were uncovered by wreckers who were tearing down the buildings on the east side of Varick Street in order to widen the road. According to news reports, some painted fresco work that once made up part of the theater’s stage was uncovered on a beam in the rear of the stable. Those watching the demolition told reporters they could clearly make out the shape of the old stage.

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In 1893, George H. Brennan opened a café at 172 Varick Street, pictured here in 1911. This old frame and brick building on the northeast corner of Charlton and Varick was later called the Deutsche Apotheke, owned by German-born druggist John Hulster (John and his wife, Tillie, lived in the apartment upstairs). The building was torn down in 1914 when the street was widened (by this time, George had moved his cafe to the southwest corner of Charlton and Varick).

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Here is the intersection of Charlton and Varick (looking east from Varick) in 1914. The old German pharmacy on the north corner is now gone, as are the frame houses and stables that once occupied the Richmond Hill site on the south corner.
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Here is the same view looking east down Charlton Street today. Although the trolley car tracks and horse manure are gone, a few of the older buildings are still standing, including the former Charlton Street Memorial Church at #40, now the Elizabeth Irwin High School (the light-colored three-story building in the middle of the photo) and the brick building to the right of the school. 

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This photo of Sixth Avenue at Charlton Street was taken in 1927 during construction of Sixth Avenue and the subway. Only months before, a townhouse at #7 Charlton had stood where the boys are standing in the left of this photo. 

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I took this photo of Charlton Plaza during my recent tour of the neighborhood. The plaza is located where the boys in the photo above were standing.

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Although the old frame houses no longer exist, I did find this old wooden shed on Sixth Avenue and Charlton, which is right about where the grounds of the old Richmond Hill mansion were located after Astor rolled the house off the hill in 1820. 

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The deer and flying squirrels that were once in abundance in this part of Manhattan may be long gone, but the birds have found a nice home on Sixth Avenue and Charlton Street. 

Stay tuned for Part III, in which I’ll tell you about the old theater and Zoological Institute on the Bowery, where Van Amburgh developed his career as a formidable lion tamer and circus man before meeting his own demise.

1833: The Lion King of Greenwich Village and the Bowery, Part I

Posted: 20th March 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Animal Attractions
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Van Amburgh is the man, who goes to all the shows
He goes into the lion’s cage, and tells you all he knows;
He sticks his head in the lion’s mouth, and keeps it there a-while,
And when he pulls it out again, he greets you with a smile.–
“The Menagerie,” song by Dr. W.J. Wetmore, 1865

Isaac Van Amburgh, aka the Lion King, with his lions, tigers, and lamb at the London Theatre. Oil painting on canvas by Sir Edwin Henry Landseer, 1839.
Isaac Van Amburgh, aka the Lion King, with his lions, tigers, and lamb at the London Theatre. Oil painting on canvas by Sir Edwin Henry Landseer, 1839. 

Part 1 of a 3-part story about Isaac Van Amburgh, the Richmond Hill estate in Greenwich Village, and New York’s Zoological Institute in the Bowery

After years of pressure from its many critics, SeaWorld finally announced that it was no longer breeding killer whales in captivity. The announcement followed on the heels of Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus’ decision to retire all of its performing elephants by May 2016. 

Although news reports suggest these announcements reflect a shift in society’s attitude toward the treatment of wild animals, one could argue that the criticism has existed for at least 200 years, going back to 1833, when a 22-year-old lion tamer from Fishkill, New York, introduced his wild animal act to New York City audiences in Greenwich Village and the Bowery. He was the Lion King of Old New York.

Much has been written about the lion tamer Isaac A. Van Amburgh, and I’d prefer to focus on the New York City ties to this story, but a quick introduction to the man who came to be known as the Lion King is warranted to paint the full picture.

In 1830, at the age of 19, Isaac Van Amburgh was hired as a cage cleaner for June, Titus, Angevine & Co., a large menagerie in North Salem, New York (later to become part of the New York Zoological Institute, founded in Somerstown Plains, New York in 1835 at the Elephant Hotel). Legend has it that Isaac was fascinated by the Biblical tale of Daniel in the lion’s den, and had always dreamed of being a lion tamer. He was a natural for the job.

That year, Isaac spent the warm months cleaning animal cages and the winter months training wild animals in various barns throughout upper Westchester and lower Putnam counties. By 1831, he was ready to take his traveling Van Amburgh Menagerie on the road. For the next forty years, Van Amburgh’s name would be synonymous with menageries, the circus, and daring wild animal acts.

Isaac Van Amburgh's menagerie bandwagon was billed as the largest ever seen in America. It was fit for a Lion King. It was more than 20 feet long and 17 feet tall, and its canopy could be lowered for passing under low bridges. The horse-drawn bandwagon was followed in grand procession by about 30 carriages, cages, and performer caravans. In this illustration, Van Amburgh is reportedly leading his menagerie past the Astor House hotel on Broadway at Vesey Street in 1846.
Isaac Van Amburgh’s menagerie bandwagon was billed as the largest ever seen in America. It was fit for a Lion King! It was more than 20 feet long and 17 feet tall, and its canopy could be lowered for passing under low bridges. The horse-drawn bandwagon was followed in grand procession by about 30 carriages, cages, and performer caravans. In this illustration, Van Amburgh is reportedly leading his menagerie past the Astor House hotel on Broadway at Vesey Street in 1846.

The Lion King Takes His Act to Greenwich Village

In the fall of 1833, Isaac Van Amburgh announced his plans to step into a cage occupied by a lion, a tiger, a leopard, and a panther at the Richmond Hill Theatre, located at the southeast corner of Varick and Charlton streets in Greenwich Village. Strong appeals were made for him to cancel this performance, but he would not back down. He reportedly even offered to drive down Broadway and other main streets in a chariot drawn by lions and tigers, but the authorities interfered.

Isaac Van Amburgh the Lion King

O.J. Ferguson wrote of the performance in Greenwich Village in his biographical sketch of Van Amburgh the Lion King published in 1862:

“The daring pioneer approached the door of the den with a firm step and unaverted eye. A murmur of alarm and horror involuntarily escaped the audience…The effect of his power was instantaneous. The Lion halted and stood transfixed. The Tiger crouched. The Panther with a suppressed growl of rage sprang back, while the Leopard receded gradually from its master. The spectators were overwhelmed with wonder…. Then came the most effective tableaux of all. Van Amburgh with his strong will bade them come to him while he reclined in the back of the cage – the proud King of animal creation.” 

Dressed like a Roman gladiator in toga and sandals, Van Amburgh emphasized his domination of the animals by beating them into compliance with a crowbar. Oftentimes he’d thrust his arm into their mouths, daring them to attack. It’s no wonder that he had his share of critics, even in an era when four-legged creatures were called “dumb animals” and more often than not treated inhumanely.

When he came under attack for spreading cruelty and moral devastation, Van Amburgh responded to his critics by quoting the Bible: “Didn’t God say in Genesis 1:26 that men should have dominion over every animal on the earth?” To further make his case, Van Amburgh would act out scenes from the Bible, forcing a lion to lie down with a lamb or bringing a child from the audience to join them in the ring.

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The Lion King performs. Does anyone else secretly wish these poor creatures would have attacked back?

The Richmond Hill Theatre of Greenwich Village

I once took a walk along Charlton, Vandam, King, Macdougal, and Varick streets in Greenwich Village, to visit the former site of the old Richmond Hill Theatre, where the Lion King once performed. I first closed my eyes briefly and tried to imagine the scene 400 years ago, when the area was a favorite hunting ground for the Lenape, who came there to fish in the creeks and hunt deer, flying squirrels, and other wildlife.

The Richmond Hill mansion was built in 1767 by Abraham Mortier. It was here that the Lion King performed.

That proving a challenge, what with traffic police and taxis and buses and bicyclists, I next tried to go back 250 years, when the area comprised the 26-acre Richmond Hill estate, one of the finest and most famous in colonial New York.

The Richmond Hill mansion was built in 1767 by Abraham Mortier on grounds the British army’s paymaster general leased from the Trinity Church (99-year lease). The home of timber construction stood on a bluff overlooking the Hudson River, just west of today’s intersection of Charlton and Varick streets. (At that time, before the land was filled in, the property was very close to the Hudson River shore.)

In his book “A Tour Around New York and My Summer Acre” (1892), John Flavel Mines writes of the old Richmond Hill estate:

It was a beautiful spot then. In front there was nothing to obstruct the view of the Hudson. To the right fertile meadows stretched up towards the little hamlet of Greenwich Village, and on the left the view of the little city in the distance was half hidden by clumps of trees and rising hills. There was a broad entrance to the house, under a porch of imposing height, supported by high columns, with balconies fronting the rooms of the second story. The premises were entered by a spacious gateway, flanked by ornamental columns, at what is now the termination of Macdougal Street. Within the gate and to the north was a beautiful sheet of water, known to men who are still living and who skated on its frozen surface when they were urchins of tender years, as Burr’s Pond.

In 1776, George Washington seized Richmond Hill and used it as his Revolutionary War headquarters (he was living here when the Declaration of Independence was proclaimed on July 4). Following the war, the estate was home to John and Abigail Adams (1789-1790). Aaron Burr acquired the mansion and church lease on the land in 1794, and he lived here until his infamous duel with Alexander Hamilton on July 11, 1804.
In 1776, George Washington seized Richmond Hill and used it as his Revolutionary War headquarters (he was living here when the Declaration of Independence was proclaimed on July 4). Following the war, the estate was home to John and Abigail Adams (1789-1790). Aaron Burr acquired the mansion and church lease on the land in 1794, and he lived here until his infamous duel with Alexander Hamilton on July 11, 1804.

During her brief stay there, Abigail Adams wrote about Richmond Hill in a letter to a friend:

On one side we see a view of the city and of Long Island. The river [is] in front, [New] Jersey and the adjacent country on the other side. You turn a little from the road and enter a gate. A winding road with trees in clumps leads to the house, and all around the house it looks wild and rural as uncultivated nature. . . . You enter under a piazza into a hall and turning to the right hand ascend a staircase which lands you in another [hall] of equal dimensions of which I make a drawing room. It has a glass door which opens into a gallery the whole front of the house which is exceedingly pleasant. . . .There is upon the back of the house a garden of much greater extent than our [Massachusetts] garden, but it is wholly for a walk and flowers. It has a hawthorne hedge and rows of trees with a broad gravel walk.

Traveling back in my mind to the 1700s also proved difficult, as you can imagine, so as I tried to take photos in between bouts of traffic, I decided to ponder on the demise of Richmond Hill and the events that led to present-day Charlton and Varick streets.

Stay tuned for Part II of this Old New York lion tale, in which I’ll share what I’ve discovered about the final years of the old Richmond Hill mansion/theater where the Lion King once dominated a lion, tiger, leopard, and panther. And then in Part III, I’ll explore the old theater and Zoological Institute on the Bowery, where Van Amburgh developed his career as a formidable lion tamer and circus man.

1903: A Fine Funeral for Dane, the Beloved Irish Setter of Harlem

Posted: 13th March 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Dog Tails, Hartsdale Pet Cemetery
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Children attend a pet burial a pet cemetery sometime around 1900.

“Pax vobiscum,” chanted the dog burier, and Dane, the Irish setter, was laid to his final rest.”–The New York Evening World, September 19, 1903

One day in September 1903, William and Ada Larson took a trip to Manhattan Beach in Brooklyn. The weather was obviously pleasant, because they left a window open in their new apartment at 246 West 114th Street in Harlem. This particular window led to a fire escape, which was a favorite sleeping spot for their seven-year-old Irish setter, Dane.

Dane had been living with the Larsons since 1896, when the young couple was living in St. Paul, Minnesota. William C. Larson, a broker, had been born in Wisconsin in 1868, and Ada M. Larson was born in Minnesota in 1865. The couple never had children, and so they treated Dane like their baby.

When the Larsons and Dane moved from Minnesota to 246 West 114th Street, the five-story brick, brownstone, limestone, and terracotta “Old Law” tenement was brand new. Designed by architect John P. Leo and constructed in 1899, No. 246 was one of 36 Renaissance Revival-style buildings constructed between 1896 and 1900 on West 114th Street between today’s Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Boulevard and Frederick Douglass Boulevard.

The Larsons and their Irish Setter, Dane, lived at 246 West 114th Street in Harlem, which was one of 36 five-story "Old Law" tenements on the block (pictured here in 1928). The Larson's building was on the south side of the street, near what was then still called Eighth Avenue (Frederick Douglas Boulevard). The fire escape was a favorite spot for Dane on warm nights. New York Public Library Digital Collections
The Larsons and their Irish Setter, Dane, lived at 246 West 114th Street in Harlem, which was one of 36 five-story “Old Law” tenements on the block (pictured here in 1928). The Larson’s building was on the south side of the street, near what was then still called Eighth Avenue (Frederick Douglas Boulevard). The fire escape was a favorite spot for Dane on warm nights. New York Public Library Digital Collections

A Brief History of West 114th Street

The section of Harlem in which the Larsons and their Irish setter lived has an interesting post-Native history going back to March 1637, when Dr. Jean Mousnier de la Montagne, a Protestant in exile from France, arrived in America following a six-month journey on the ship Rensselaerswyck. This ship was owned by the Dutch patroon Kiliaen Van Rensselaer and by Gerard DeForest, the uncle of Montagne’s wife, Rachel.

Immediately upon arrival, the well educated Dr. Montagne set up shop as a physician and ship chandler, while the DeForests, including sons Henry and Isaac, established a 200-acre tobacco farm called Vredendahl (or Quiet Dale) on land known to the Indians as “Muscoota” (flat place, as it lied just east of the rugged cliffs of Manhattan schist (now Morningside Park).

The DeForest farm was divided by Harlem Lane (sometimes called the Kingsbridge Road; today called St. Nicholas Avenue), and ran from about present-day 109th Street (northern part of Central Park) to 124th Street.

The old Harlem Lane -- once a Native American path called Weekquaeskeek and now called St. Nicholas Avenue -- served as the dividing line of the DeForest farm, which was established around 1637. This area, later known as Montagne's Land or Montagne's Flat, remained farmland through the early nineteenth century.
The old Harlem Lane — once a Native American path called Weekquaeskeek and now called St. Nicholas Avenue — served as the dividing line of the DeForest farm, which was established around 1637. This area, later known as Montagne’s Land or Montagne’s Flat, remained farmland through the early nineteenth century. 

Shortly after arriving in the New World, Henry DeForest died, leaving Dr. Montagne in charge of the tobacco farm. Dr. Montagne built a small bark cabin for his family at the present intersection of St. Nicholas Avenue, Seventh Avenue, and West 116th Street. For the next 200 years, the land remained undeveloped farmland.

Sometime around 1812, David Wood purchased the land and built his own farmhouse on present-day West 114th Street near 7th Avenue (the site of the Wadleigh High School for Girls, built in 1901-02). Following Wood’s death on May I2, I842, the land reverted to his widow and children.

By this time, the New York and Harlem Railroad had already begun providing access to Harlem’s farmland north of 110th Street. However, with options for commuters still limited, small shantytowns began to pop up as many of the old farms that were not sold for development were abandoned.

The 9th Avenue elevated train dramatically changed Harlem by providing an option for Manhattan commuters who moved north in the late 1800s. The famous S-curve shown here -- often called Suicide Curve -- allowed the tracks of the 9th Avenue El to switch over to 8th Avenue at 110th Street.
The 9th Avenue elevated train dramatically changed Harlem by providing an option for Manhattan commuters who moved north in the late 1800s. The famous S-curve shown here — often called Suicide Curve — allowed the tracks of the 9th Avenue El to switch over to 8th Avenue at 110th Street. 

The face of Harlem changed dramatically between 1878 and 1881, when the elevated train lines were extended into the area. The Ninth Avenue elevated train, in particular, had a huge impact on Harlem as it paved the way for a surge of speculative construction on the west side — such as the Old Law tenements on West 114th Street where Dane lived with his human mother and father.

Dane, the Irish Setter, had an enclosed grave site and monument at Hartsdale Pet Cemetery. Photo courtesy of Hartsdale Pet Cemetery archives.
Dane, the Irish Setter, had an enclosed grave site and monument at Hartsdale Pet Cemetery. Photo courtesy of Hartsdale Pet Cemetery archives. 

Dane’s Final Nap

On that fateful day in September, Dane chose to take a nap on the fire escape while his human parents were away. The Irish setter somehow rolled off in his sleep and fell to his death (one report said he jumped out the window). When the Larsons returned home and saw all their neighbors surrounding Dane’s body, Mrs. Larson fainted on the street.

Article about Dane the Irish Setter
Article about Dane the Irish Setter

The following day, the Larsons set out to find an undertaker who would embalm their Irish setter and conduct a proper burial. An undertaker named Christian F. Greenwald at 2134 Eighth Avenue, just north of 115th Street, agreed to embalm the Irish setter and make arrangements to have him buried in the dog and cat cemetery at Hartsdale.

Reportedly, C.F. Greenwald specialized in embalming dogs, cats, and other small animals, and he had a working relationship with Dr. Johnson, a prominent New York veterinarian who helped establish the pet cemetery on his apple orchard in Westchester County.

After taking Dane’s body to his shop, Christian Greenwald embalmed the Irish setter and prepared a small oak casket (engraved with “Dane” in silver lettering and lined with white satin). Dane was placed on his side with his head on a bed of lilies of the valley; roses and other flowers were placed over his body. After the casket was placed on a pedestal, a photographer reportedly took a “flashlight” photograph of Dane.

2134EighthAve_HatchingCatChristian F. Greenwald embalmed Dane and other pets at his shop at 2134 8th Avenue. In 1927, when this photo was taken, No. 2134 (2-story building at right) was occupied by a fruit and vegetable market. Next door, in the same building, were a billiards parlor and a meat market. Museum of the City of New York Collections

“Thousands of people came to see Dane when he was in his coffin. He was a beautiful animal and looked exactly as if he were asleep. People came in crowds and we had to make them come in line, and we kept open all night, for one person telling another they came from all parts of the city to see him.”–C. F. Greenwald, Newport News Daily Press, October 7, 1907 

On the morning of his burial, Mrs. Larson — heavily veiled — and several neighbors came to say goodbye to Dane before taking the train to the Hartsdale Pet Cemetery. When Greenwald closed the casket, Mrs. Larson said, “Don’t lock it. I want to put inside Dane’s collar and leash and whip and plate. I could not bear to have those remainders of the dear dog about the house.” (I can’t bear that she used a whip on him!)

When Dane the Irish Setter was buried at Hartsdale, his enclosed grave site, pictured here, featured a large monument and a rustic seat for visitors. Photo by Mr. William H. Secord, Hartsdale postmaster, from Hartsdale Pet Cemetery archives.
When Dane the Irish Setter was buried at Hartsdale, his enclosed grave site, pictured here, featured a large monument and a rustic seat for visitors. Photo by  Mr. William H. Secord, Hartsdale postmaster, from Hartsdale Pet Cemetery archives. 

At the solemn cemetery, Ada Larson and a little girl tossed flowers onto the grave. Ada sobbed violently and was led away by her friends. One woman told a reporter that she was only a neighbor, but she loved the Irish setter as if he had been her own dog.

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In the 1970s, the New York Housing Authority acquired what are now called the A. Phillip Randolph Houses on West 114th Street. Over the years the buildings have greatly deteriorated, but renovation plans are underway. A screen capture from Google Streets shows that work is in progress at No. 246, pictured here, and along the rest of the block.

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2134 Eighth Avenue, where Christian F. Greenwald prepared Dane for his final resting place, has had a troubled history, including a chain of mortgage foreclosures and repossessions. In 1980, the property was seized by the federal government as part of a major narcotics trafficking case. In more recent years, part of the building was occupied by the Masjid Aqsa mosque, which was evicted in 2013 following a rent dispute. 
The Hartsdale Pet Cemetery in Westchester County remains a wonderful resting place for treasured pets of all kinds. Photo, P. Gavan
The Hartsdale Pet Cemetery in Westchester County remains a wonderful resting place for treasured pets of all kinds. Photo, P. Gavan

1881: Humpty Dumpty, Colonel Washington, and the Featured Felines of the Cat Congress on Broadway

Posted: 28th February 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Cat Stories, Featured Felines
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Cat Show Cat Congress

Scenes from the 1895 National Cat Show at Madison Square Garden II. One of the cats that caused the biggest stir at this show was Nicodemus, owned by New York prankster Brian G. Hughes.

Manager Bunnell stood in the center of his museum on Broadway, his hands in his hair, utterly perplexed… He was surrounded by cats in cages, cats in wooden boxes, cats in band-boxes, cats in bags, half of them yelling, spitting, and scratching, as mad as cats can be in uncomfortable quarters and in a strange place. A deep scratch on his nose… told how inexperienced he was in the ways of cats.– The New York Times, March 6, 1881

Although the first National Cat Show at Madison Square Garden II in May 1895 is often cited as the first cat show in America, there were actually quite a few cat shows in New York City and other American cities before this “official cat show” took place at the Garden.

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For a brief time, George Bunnell operated his museum at the Old London Street Exhibition, which occupied the old Church of the Messiah at 728-730 Broadway.  

In fact, 18 years earlier, in 1877, a feline exhibition called the Cat Congress took place at George B. Bunnell’s New American Museum on the Bowery (not to be confused with P.T. Barnum’s old American Museum on Broadway, which burned down in 1865).

The impromptu Cat Congress also took place at Bunnell’s Museum in 1881 and 1882, when his dime museum was located on the northwest corner of Broadway and 9th Street.

To kick off the 1881 Cat Congress, proprietor George B. Bunnell announced that he would offer a $10 prize for the best short essay on cats. The response was overwhelming: Within days, his office floor was covered with 557 funny, serious, and poetic essays about cats.

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Here is a portion of Walter C. Quevedo’s clever winning cat essay, which he attached to a small wooden block called a “cat,” which was  used in a child’s game called tipcap.

The briefest of the entries came from a man who said he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a long time: “Damn all cats anyway,” was all he wrote. The winning essay was written by New York World journalist Walter C. Quevedo of 127 Eleventh Street, Brooklyn, who attached his page-long essay to a little wooden “tipcat” game piece.

The Featured Felines of the Cat Congress

Some of the cats are remarkable for their size, color, stripes, and weight. By far the greater number possess all the characteristics of the back-fence tenors.–NYT, March 8, 1881

One of the felines featured at George Bunnell’s Cat Congress was a 13-year-old Tom cat named Humpty Dumpty. According to The New York Times, Humpty had previously been owned by the late George L. Fox, an American actor and comedian who had created a comical clown character called Humpty Dumpty in 1867.

The cat had reportedly won a life-saving medal for saving his owner’s life. As the story goes, Humpty Dumpty jumped up on George’s bed and started scratching his face to awake him one night after his house had caught fire. George had trained Humpty to do several tricks, and the senior cat was still able to perform a few of them in his old age.

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Known as America’s first white-face clown, George Washington Lafayette Fox was famous for his clown character, Humpty Dumpty. Fox performed as Humpty Dumpty in over 1,200 shows over 10 years. He died at the age of 52 in 1877 — some reports state he lost his mind and suffered from paralysis as a result of lead poisoning from the white makeup he used every day on his face.

Another favorite at the show was a cat named General Washington. As reported, “General Washington was a black and white gentleman cat, with an intellectual breadth of forehead and a frank open face. His great-grandfather is alleged to have witnessed the surrender of Cornwallis some years ago. There may be some mistake about his ancestry, but it will not be denied that he himself is a handsome specimen.”

George Bunnell’s New American Museum

We first met dime museum proprietor George Bunnell in my post about a wolf that escaped on the Bowery in 1891. A protege of P. T. Barnum, George Boardman Bunnell played a large role in the development of the American dime museum after the circus man got out of the museum business. (It was Bunnell who first had the idea to reduce admission from a quarter to a dime.)

In 1876, George Bunnell purchased the collection of George Wood’s Museum and Metropolitan Theatre at 1221 Broadway, and opened his own New American Museum at 103-105 Bowery.

Three years later, he secured a lease for a brand-new four-story museum/music hall and lodging house at 298 Bowery. As with many theaters and museums of that era, Bunnell’s museum caught fire in June 1879, forcing him to find another location.

298 Bowery

Despite a fire that destroyed Bunnell’s museum in 1879, No. 298 Bowery (white building, missing cornice), built in 1878, is still standing. The building was once identical to its neighbors to the right at Nos. 300 and 302, but time and use has taken a toll on the old building.

In 1880, George signed a 10-year lease  at 771 Broadway, a four-story brick building owned by the Felix Effray estate. This building had previously been home to Effray’s French chocolate shop and L. Leroy’s drug store (1850s),  and Wilson & Greig’s clothing and dry goods store (1860s-70s). It was here the Cat Congress of 1881 and 1882 took place.

Although the cat shows, dog shows, bird shows, and other events that took place at the New American Museum were quite successful, George Bunnell’s run at 771 Broadway didn’t last long. In 1883, the Sailor’s Snug Harbor Corporation, which owned much of the surrounding property, purchased the building from the Effray estate and cancelled Bunnell’s lease in order to replace the dime museum with shops.

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For about two years, George B. Bunnell’s New American Museum occupied the four-story building at left. In October 1897, two men were killed in a fire at No. 773, to the right. Nos. 771 and 775 were heavily damaged by smoke and water. 

Bunnell headed north and established a museum in Buffalo, New York. After this building was destroyed in a large deadly fire in March 1887, he took his museum to New Haven, Connecticut, which is where he stayed until his death on May 3, 1911.

The Randall House at 63 E. 9th Street

In 1955, a new 14-story apartment building called the Randall House was constructed on the northwest corner of Broadway and 9th Street, on the very spot where George Bunnell had his dime museum. This large apartment house fronts 9th Street, hence the address.

The Randall House is named for Captain Robert Richard Randall, a former sea captain who owned most of the land bounded by 9th Street, Waverly Place, 5th Avenue, and the Bowery Lane (4th Avenue)

Born in New Jersey in 1790, Robert Richard Randall inherited his father’s vast estate when the elder Tom Randall died in 1790. He used some of his inheritance to purchase the former Andrew Elliot 21-acre estate in the then-rural Greenwich Village for a sum of 5,000 pounds.

The “recent” history of this land goes back to 1766, which is when Andrew Elliot (acting colonial governor of the province of New York in 1780) purchased 13 acres extending from the Bowery westward to the present Sixth Avenue. Over the next few years he acquired eight more acres, on which he established an estate he called Minto, in honor of his father, Sir Gilbert Elliott, who was 2nd Baronet of Minto, a village in Scotland.

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The Andrew Elliott estate is shown on this 1776 map created by Lt. Bernard Ratzer during the Revolutionary War. It’s to the west of what was then the Bowery (the main roadway running through the middle of the map), just north of the Sand Hill and south of the road leading east to the Peter Stuyvesant farm (present-day 10th Street).

After Andrew Elliott fled the city during the British evacuation in 1783, the property came into the possession of Frederick Charles Hans Bruno Poelnitz (commonly called Baron Poelnitz). The Baron in turn sold the property to Captain Richard Randall.

Captain Randall had no heirs, so at the suggestion of his attorney, Alexander Hamilton, who reportedly drew up Randall’s will, the old sea captain requested that his home be used as a “snug harbor” — a marine hospital for “the purpose of maintaining aged, decrepit, and worn-out sailors.”  The land was good farm land, and Randall thought that the residents living at Snug Harbor would be able to grow grain and vegetables to help sustain themselves.

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The Washington Mews homes and stables, on the southern edge of Randall’s 21-acre Greenwich Village estate, generated much income for the Sailors’ Snug Harbor trust fund.

Following Randall’s death in 1801, his will was immediately contested by relatives, and it was not until 1831 that the matter was settled by the Supreme Court of the United States. By this time, the property — which included the northern edge of Washington Square Park — had become so valuable that the Trustees of the Sailors’ Snug Harbor thought it better to subdivide the land into 253 lots and lease it out. The trustees used the money from the leases to purchase a 130-acre from on the north shore of Staten Island from Isaac Houseman for about $10,000.

The Sailors’ Snug Harbor opened on Staten Island on August 1, 1833, and continued to house aged sailors until the mid-1950s. Today, it’s part of the Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Garden. The Trust, considered to be one of the oldest secular philanthropies in the country, continues to assist mariners throughout the country.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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