1896: The St. Bernard and the Great Bear Hunt at Greenridge, Staten Island

Posted: 21st September 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Animal Stories, Bear Tales
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cortelyou-farm
The 65-acre Cortelyou farm and homestead where part of this story takes place was located on the Fresh Kills Road (now Arthur Kill Road) near the intersection of present-day Cortelyou Avenue. This oil painting was painted in 1843 by Jasper F. Cropsey, a relative of the Cortelyou family. Cropsey was born on a farm in Rossville, Staten Island. He worked as an architect, and also owned 100 acres of land in my hometown of Warwick, New York, where he became a well-known Hudson River School painter. 

In January 1896, the tiny hamlet of Greenridge, Staten Island, was all a buzz over the reported sighting of a large, ferocious black bear. Doors were closed and barred at dusk, and guns and pistols were cleaned and loaded.

All those men who loved to tell their tall tales of bravery were oddly reluctant to venture alone over the country roads from Rossville to Richmond — even during daylight hours.

The story of the bear sighting originated with Greenridge resident David H. Cortelyou, a former Civil War veteran and army captain who owned a large farm and homestead on the Fresh Kills Road (today’s Arthur Kill Road). Many people had heard his war stories of valor, so they didn’t bother to question his tall tale about the large black bear.

The hamlet of Greenridge and the small fishing village of Giffords-by-Sea (now Great Kills), is shown here (top and bottom center) on this 1907 map be E. Robinson. NYPL digital collections
The hamlet of Greenridge and the small fishing village of Giffords-by-Sea (now Great Kills), is shown here (top and bottom center) on this 1907 map be E. Robinson. NYPL digital collections

As the story goes, it was David’s 18-year-old son, Stephen, who first came upon the bear while walking along the road one night near the house. Stephen told his father that he had heard a strange noise in the woods; a moment later, a large dark animal emerged and ran after him, making a sound between a grunt and a bark. Maybe that was the first clue…

Grabbing their loaded shotguns and revolvers, David and his son went back outside and fired a few shots into the bushes. No animal appeared, so they went back indoors.

The next night, John Mahoney, the Cortelyou’s hired man, fired two shots at what he also thought was a bear. Again, no bear — or any other animal, for that matter — emerged from the woods.

The Cortelyou family owned land on either side of Fresh Kills Road, as shown on this 1874 map. In 1880, George W. White purchased the 240-acre Underhill farm adjacent to the Cortelyou farm. This farm was at one time the home of Judge Benjamin Seaman (1719-1785), a Loyalist and the last Colonial judge of Staten Island. J.S. Underhill was probably a descendant of Benjamin's sister Elizabeth and her husband, Amos Underhill. (Seaside Avenue, center, is today's Richmond Avenue.)
The Cortelyou family owned land on either side of Fresh Kills Road, as shown on this 1874 map. In 1880, George W. White purchased the 240-acre Underhill farm adjacent to the Cortelyou farm. This farm was at one time the home of Judge Benjamin Seaman (1719-1785), a Loyalist and the last Colonial judge of Staten Island. J.S. Underhill was probably a descendant of Benjamin’s sister Elizabeth and her husband, Amos Underhill. (Seaside Avenue, center, is today’s Richmond Avenue.)

During the course of the week, rumors quickly spread of people having seen the bear in their barns or near their houses. For several days, hunting parties scoured the Greenridge woods for miles around in search of the elusive wild creature.

Over at James Carroll’s hotel for fishermen at Giffords-by-the-Sea, the bear was also a hot topic. On January 15, a band of men gathered at the hotel and pledged to catch it. In the party were Carroll; David Cortelyou; Tom Williams (aka The Cat); Eden Nolan, the sporting blacksmith of Greenridge; Tom Hogan; Tom Monaghan Tom Kenney; Gabe Gile; Bill King, the noted fox hunter of Richmond; and several other sporting men.

The brave men spent an hour loading their guns and revolvers and discussing plans for the hunt. Reaching the Cortelyou’s house just before dark, the party made their way through the snow in the bushes where the bear had last been seen.

Just a few minutes into the hunt, the men heard a muffled growl coming from the vicinity of George White’s farm. Williams climbed up a tree and another man fell onto his back and started kicking and screaming. Monaghan barricade himself against the fence and covered his head with his coat.

The other men ran down the road, leaving Cortelyou, Carroll, and King alone to face the ferocious creature…

Here's the Cortelyou homestead in Greenridge sometime around 1900. If you look at the Cropsey painting above, you'll see the house on the far left. The property remained in the family until about 1906, when it was purchased by the South New York Villa Site Co. for a prospective housing subdivision. Today, much of the site is occupied by a shopping center.
Here’s the Cortelyou homestead sometime around 1900. If you look at the Cropsey painting above, you’ll see the house on the far left. The property remained in the family until about 1906, when it was purchased by the South New York Villa Site Co. for a prospective housing subdivision. Today, much of the site is occupied by a shopping center. 

The Cortelyou Family

The Cortelyou family of Staten Island and Long Island (also spelled Corteleau) have a long history in New York, dating back to 1652, when Jacques Cortelyou, a French Huguenot surveyor, arrived in America. In 1657, Jacques laid out the town of New Utrecht (Brooklyn) into 20 lots of 50 acres each, one of which he made his home, where he lived with his wife and four sons.

The first Staten Island Cortelyou of record was Jacques’s son Jacques Jr. He and his wife Jaccmynytie (Jemima) VanPelt had two children: a daughter, Deborah, born in 1720, and a son, Aaron, born in 1726. Aaron’s son Peter, born in 1768, and his wife, Emma Hillier, were the parents of Lawrence Hillier Cortelyou, who was born in 1802 in the house pictured above.

Lawrence Cortelyou was a grocer, farmer, and a county judge in New York, and one of the founders of the Richmond County Mutual Insurance Company. In addition to the farm at Greenridge, Lawrence owned the old Henry Seaman cottage at 218 Center Street in Richmondtown, now preserved and on display in Historic Richmond Town.

Lawrence Cortelyou died in the farmhouse in September 1884. His son David Heckle Cortelyou, born in 1849, took over the farm while still maintaining a residence on Manor Road in West New Brighton.

David Cortelyou was a Civil War veteran, having enlisted in the New York 6th Calvary (Company E) in 1861 and reaching the rank of major. He also served as a second lieutenant in the regular army at Kinney, Texas, where he was involved in several battles with the Native Americans. David retired from the army with honors in 1873 and returned to Staten Island, where he worked as a county clerk, the secretary of the Richmond County Mutual Insurance Company, and a part-time bear hunter.

Back to the Bear Hunt at the White Farm…

Here's a photo of George White's farm in Greenridge at 814 Arthur Kill Road in 1924. The French Church, established between 1683 and 1698, once stood on this property in front of the large dairy building (there are reportedly still a few dilapidated gravestones on the spot).
Here’s a photo of George White’s farm in Greenridge at 814 Arthur Kill Road in 1924. The French Church, established between 1683 and 1698, once stood on this property in front of the large dairy building (there are reportedly still a few dilapidated gravestones on the spot).   

With guns in hand, Cortelyou, Carroll, and King pushed through the bushes and made their way toward the White farm. There, at the base of rock, they found one of George’s St. Bernard dogs. Apparently the dog had trailed some small animal to its nest under the rock and had been digging at the dirt to get at it.

The strange muffled growl the men had heard was not a bear, but the dog with its head in the hole.

newdorpmoravianchurch

David Cortelyou died on June 8, 1912, and is buried with his family in the Moravian Church cemetery in New Dorp. Organized in 1763, the Moravian Church is the second-oldest church on Staten Island, preceded by St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Richmondtown.  The present church, built in 1837, was designed by Jasper Cropsey. The building was modified in the 1950s, which is when the bell tower was replaced with the present steeple. 

cortelyouroadarial
Here’s an aerial “Google Earth” view of the site of the old White and Cortelyou farms on Arthur Kill Road. Amazingly, much of the land on the north side of the road still remains vacant, and is probably very close to what it looked like 150 years ago during the great Greenridge bear hunt.

CortelyouSite.jpg

This old structure at the intersection of Arthur Kill Road and Cortelyou Avenue is right about on the spot of the old Cortelyou farmhouse. A housing development and strip mall occupy the rest of the old farm on the south side of the road (as seen above). 

If you enjoy this bear tale, you may also enjoy reading another bear tale set in the Bronx in 1886.

1913: Duffy MacNab, the Scottish Long-Distance Jumping Cat of New York’s Pier 64

Posted: 7th September 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Cat Mascots, Cat Stories
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DuffyMacNab
This is not Duffy MacNab, but it’s a black ship’s cat, so I chose him as our stand-in model for this story.

On August 18, 1912, the Anchor Line steamship Caledonia arrived from Glasgow at New York’s Pier 64 with numerous passengers – and 12,000 barrels of Scotch herring.

According to The New York Times, as the ship steamed up the Hudson River around noon, “all the cats along the waterfront left their respective piers and went running up West Street, meowing in chorus excitedly, with their tails in the air, to the Anchor Line dock.”

When Passenger Manager W.J. Reilly arrived on the scene, he asked the sailors what they were doing with all of the seafaring cats, as they were not allowed to have so many pets on the ship at the company’s expense. He knew that the ship already had one very popular ship’s cat , so he was quite confused about the clowder that had gathered along Pier 64.

It wasn’t until the ship pulled up to the pier and the barrels of herring were carried off that Mr. Reilly realized why so many felines were crying so lustily on the pier. (Duffy MacNab, on the other hand, probably thought all the cats — especially those of the female persuasion — were coming to welcome him.)

Pier64NewyYork2_HatchingCat
The Anchor Line, which included the ships Caledonia, Cameronia, Colombia, and California, operated out of Pier 64 on the Hudson River at the foot of West 26th Street.  The wooden single-deck pier was just 500 feet long — the exact length of the passenger ships.

Duffy MacNab Joins the T.S.S. Caledonia

Launched in 1904, the twin screw steamship (T.S.S.) Caledonia registered at 500 feet and 9,223 gross tons out of the Glasgow Yard of D. & W. Henderson for the Anchor Fleet, the third vessel of five that would be so-named for the line. Powered by a massive steam engine, the British passenger liner could go up to 18 knots while comfortably accommodating 383 first-, 216 second-, and 869 third-class passengers.

Caledonia_HatchingCat
From 1905 to 1914, the Caledonia was one of the premier passenger liners that steamed between Glasgow and New York City on a weekly basis. Her fastest passage (from Ireland) was 6 days and 20 hours. The rates for passage ranged from $67.50 to $125, depending on the accommodations.

On March 25, 1905, Caledonia made her maiden voyage from Glasgow, Scotland, to New York and back. In addition to the passengers and crew, on board was a young black cat that the crew named Duffy MacNab — or The MacNab, for short. (The passengers called him Duffy MacNab, because that was the name engraved on his collar, but the men called him The MacNab.)

CaledoniaMusicRoom
Here is the music room on the Caledonia, from a 1912 Anchor Line brochure. I see a lot of comfy chairs where a ship’s cat could take a nap.

For the next eight years, Duffy MacNab sailed over 200,000 miles. He made 18 Atlantic crossings, and never once missed a trip either way. He was certainly on board on April 9 1912, when a sailor on the Caledonia, traveling eastbound from New York to Glasgow, transmitted a wireless message to the westbound Bulgaria warning of a large ice field that was likely the one subsequently encountered by the Titanic five days later.

Although he obviously loved sailing across the Atlantic, Duffy also enjoyed spending time ashore (he no doubt courted numerous lady cats of Glasgow and New York). He was always the first to land (by way of jumping from ship to pier) and the first to board (by way of the gangplank). As ship’s surgeon Dr. Jenkins told a reporter for The New York Times:

“When we quit the ship after our arrival in port The MacNab would always go, too, and would not, as a rule, be seen again until the day to sail rolled around, and then just before the gangplank was taken in he would come marching aboard with all the dignity and self-importance of the king of cats that he was.”

The Macnab Portrait
Duffy MacNab was probably named after Francis Macnab (1734-1816), a landowner and 16th chief of the Scottish Clan Macnab. Big Francis, as he was called, stood over six feet tall, and was quite the womanizer (he fathered at least 32 children). Like Duffy MacNab, he was also a big gambler. This portrait, titled “The Macnab,” was painted by  Sir Henry Raeburn in 1802.

The MacNab’s Last Jump 

When the Caledonia arrived at Pier 64 on August 3, 1913, it was Duffy MacNab’s 18th Atlantic crossing. As he had done numerous times before — albeit from a distance of only four feet — Duffy prepared to jump from the forecastle of the ship to the roof of the pier. But this time he tried to jump too far.

As The New York Times reported the next day:

“The mascot was looking at the roof of the pier and his attitude showed that he was figuring out whether or not he could make the jump from the liner to the pier roof, a distance of some ten feet… So he threw caution to the wind and jumped.

“His black body glistened in the sunlight, and then like a broken aeroplane it began to drop. Rocket fashion it fell through the air, and a moment later The MacNab struck the water. The sound of the splash was heard both on the pier and on the ship.”

Quartermaster Angus MacLean, aka, “The Kaid,” witnessed his beloved cat make his death leap. MacLean jumped overboard, dove under the pier, and tried to reach for MacNab. But by that time the cat had been carried away with the tide. After swimming for about 15 minutes, the grief-stricken sailor was hauled back on board.

CaptainWadsworth
Captain Francis Henry Wadsworth, Caledonia, 1913 

As the other sailors gathered around MacLean, many of them had tears in their eyes. They had all loved their feline mascot, and his sudden death hit them all very hard. When Pursor Johnson and Dr. Jenkins went up to the forecastle to see what was wrong, they also joined in the mourning.

BlackCatSailorOlympia1898
This is actually a sailor on the USS Olympia in 1898, but it could have easily been Quartermaster MacLean with Duffy MacNab on the Caledonia.

“We shall never see his like again, for he was indeed a rare cat. So loyal to the ship, and with it all so intelligent. It is hard to lose him,” said Pursor Johnson.

“Yes, indeed,” agreed Dr. Jenkins. “The MacNab was a most unusual animal. I have known cats in every port here and in Europe, but none of them could compare to poor old Duffy. He was an aristocrat through and through. He would only partake of the choicest food and was unusual in that he preferred tea to milk.”

The Caledonia Goes to War

One year after The MacNab’s death, the British government converted the luxury passenger liner into a troop ship capable of carrying 3,074 troops and 212 horses. For more than two years, the ship carried soldiers and their equipment to various locations around the Mediterranean.

On December 5, 1916, while carrying mail but no troops from Greece to France, Caledonia was torpedoed by the German submarine U-65.  Although his ship was sinking, Caledonia‘s Captain James Blaikie steered the troop ship toward the U-boat and tried to ram her. Caledonia did hit the U-boat, but the U-boat stayed afloat as Caledonia sank about 125 miles east of Malta, with the loss of only one life.

Pier64MunsonLines1931
In 1938, Anchor Lines transferred the lease of Pier 64 to the Munson Lines. Anchor Lines moved its ships to Pier 71 at West 30th Street, which was long enough — about 700 feet — to accommodate its larger ships. NYPL digital collections
Pier64PanamaLine
In 1940, the old wooden pier was completely renovated. The two-story terminal was later home to the Panama Line, which vacated the pier in 1961. The pier was condemned and finally torn down in 2006. 
Pier642003
The old Pier 64, where Duffy MacNab jumped to his death in 1913, was torn down in 2003. Today it is part of the city’s Hudson River Park. Opened in April 2009, the green recreational pier with sloping lawns and a grove of English Oaks is a favorite for New York City sunbathers. 
Pier64HudsonPark
The next time I take a walk down to Pier 64, I’ll take a moment of think of The MacNab, the Scottish king of ship’s cats. 

1899: Strike, the Heroic Eighth Precinct Police Dog of New York City’s Tribeca

Posted: 31st August 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Dog Mascots, Dog Tails
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Children play in a stalled, empty trolley car that wasn't blown up during the Brooklyn Rapid Transit strike in July 1899.
Children play in a stalled, empty trolley car that wasn’t blown up during the Brooklyn Rapid Transit strike in July 1899. 

On July 16, 1899, a small group of motormen and conductors for the Brooklyn Rapid Transit (BRT) street car lines went on strike. These men left their empty cars stalled in the road, and then, in some instances, used dynamite to blow them up.

Not wanting a repeat of the deadly riots that took place during the January 1895 BRT strike, the New York City Police Department immediately sent 25 patrol wagons from Manhattan and the Bronx to Brooklyn to rein in the trouble-making strikers. As it turns out, the police weren’t needed for long. A large number of workers refused to go out this time around, and the strike came to a quiet end within a week.

For the policemen of Manhattan’s Leonard Street Station — aka the new Eighth Precinct — doing strike duty in Brooklyn meant spending a lot of time riding on the operational trolley cars looking for trouble. It was during this week that they “adopted” a big, brown, half-starved shaggy dog (sort of a cross between a Newfoundland and a setter) who would change their lives for the better. They named him Strike.

Right from the start, Strike was on the job with his fellow police officers. As the men road back and forth on the trolley lines, Strike would leap from the car and start biting or barking at any strikers causing excitement.  To reward this stray dog for his duties, the policemen of the Eighth Precinct brought him back to Leonard Street, ordered a collar with his new name, and had him properly licensed.

Strike’s Daily Routine

Every morning, Strike would attend roll call by sitting at the sergeant’s desk and waiting for all the men’s names to be called. During the day, he spent a lot of time outside the station, where the neighborhood children would gather to play with him.

Strike liked the children, but his favorite people were the uniformed police officers (the plain clothes officers had to be at the station quite a while before he’d warm up to them). He also liked all the restaurant keepers within the boundaries of the precinct — especially those he had “trained” to feed him. (Unlike Jiggs, the jelly-belly fire dog of Brooklyn’s Engine 205, Strike did not put on the pounds from all the food.)

Three times a day, Strike would visit his favorite restaurants (he’d mixed it up so he wouldn’t wear out his welcome), and wait for someone to bring him a package of meat scraps tied with string. Placing the string in his mouth, Strike would carry the food back to the police station, where an officer had to properly lay it out in his favorite eating spot in the back room. Sometimes the officers would give him a nickel, which he would carry to the bakery to purchase his favorite ginger cake.

One day about five years after Strike moved into the Leonard Street station house, an officer found a Newfoundland on the downtown platform of the Chambers Street elevated station. The dog had a collar that said “J.J. Atkinson, Raymond, Lafayette. ” The poor dog was running about as if he had lost his master and was hunting for him.

The police thought the dog must have come from Lafayette, N.J.; I hope they eventually realized that there was a J.J. Atkinson saloon on the corner of Raymond Street (now Ashland Place) and Lafayette Avenue in Brooklyn!

The policeman brought the dog back to the station house, where he stayed for quite a while (courtesy of Captain Dennis Sweeney). During this dog’s extended visit, Strike learned to bark longer and louder in order to encourage the waiters to give him more food so that he could share his meal with his new canine friend.

Strike visited his favorite restaurants every day, like those on Broadway at Leonard Street, pictured here in this montage of photos taken in 1895. NYPL digital collections
Strike visited his favorite restaurants every day, like those on Broadway at Leonard Street, pictured here in this montage of photos taken in 1895. NYPL digital collections

Strike Makes a Few Collars

Over the years, Strike assisted in many arrests. One time when a prisoner tried to escape the station house, Strike grabbed him by the coattails and dragged him back. Another time he helped Policeman Cleveland capture two vagrants who had been begging throughout the district for some time.

As the story goes, Strike was asleep on the rug under the sergeant’s desk when he heard the rapping of a policeman’s club outside. He and Policeman Brennan ran outside the station and got a glimpse of Policeman Cleveland in pursuit of two men dressed in United States Navy uniforms. Strike took off and caught one man by his trousers while the officers caught the other man. Both men were charged with vagrancy (they weren’t actual sailors).

StrikePoliceDog
Here is Strike carrying his package of meat scraps to Policeman Furlong in July 1906 (New York Daily Tribune)

Strike was also skilled in delivering notes for the men. If he was out with a roundsman and the officer wanted to send a message to the station house, Strike would carry the note in his mouth to the sergeant and return promptly with an answer, if there was one.

Strike Rescues a Few Kittens

Although Strike was known as a cat hater, that all changed on the night of June 8, 1906. According to the news reports, at about 8 p.m. while walking home with his dinner on Hudson Street, Strike came upon a cat and dog fighting. Apparently, the mother cat had been nursing her kittens in a doorway when the dog attacked and killed her.

With three motherless kittens staring up at him, Strike dropped his meat package, tackled the bulldog, and put one of the kittens in his mouth. He carried the kitten to the back room of the police station where several policemen were playing dominoes, dropped the kitten at their feet, and ran back out. A minute later, he returned with the second kitten.

On his next trip out, Roundsmen Borener and Saul followed him to 78 Hudson Street, where they found Roundsmen Blohm bending over a dead cat and dog. Strike took charge of the third kitten and carried it back to the police station.

A month later, the kittens were still at the station house. On sunny days, they could be seen on the steps tumbling all over their canine caregiver and demanding his attention.

A Brief History of the Leonard Street Police Station

Throughout the seventeenth and most of the eighteenth centuries, the area of Manhattan that we call Tribeca was open land, much of which was held by Trinity Church (to the west) and by Anthony Rutgers (the swampland to the east). In 1741, Leonard Lispenard, a leaseholder of a large tract of land belonging to Trinity Church, married Rutgers’s daughter Elsie.

After Rutger’s death in 1746, most of his holdings went to Leonard and Elsie, and the large area to the east became known as Lispenard’s Meadows. Leonard Street between present-day Hudson Street and West Broadway was the southern tip of the meadows; the center of the meadows is about where Lispenard Street is today.

Lispenards Meadows

Leonard Street was laid out around 1797 as a twenty-seven-and-a-half-foot-wide street and ceded to the city in 1800. It was widened in 1806 and immediately developed with frame and masonry residences, none of which remain standing today.

Lispenards Meadows
In the 1700s, Lispenard’s Meadows was home to one of the city’s earliest race tracks. As noted in the American Magazine in 1899, the track was conveniently located near the country seats of Peter Warren, Abraham Mortier, William Bayard, and James Tauncey.

19-21 Leonard Street

Designed by Nathanial D. Bush as a police station and prison for the City of New York, 19-21 Leonard Street was constructed in 1868 on two lots previously occupied by masonry residences. The four-story Italianate building of red brick and white stone trim also featured apartments for lodging indigent persons.

In the late 1800s, the Leonard Street Police Station served as a lodging house for indigents. As photographer Jacob Riis notes, "At the police station the roads of the tramp and the tough again converge." NYPL digital collections
In the late 1800s, the Leonard Street Police Station served as a lodging house for indigents. As photographer Jacob Riis notes, “At the police station the roads of the tramp and the tough again converge.” NYPL digital collections

The station house was occupied by the Fifth Precinct — renamed the Eighth Precinct in May 1898 — which had previously been stationed at 49 Leonard Street. The Fifth Precinct was bounded by Warren Street, the west track of the West Street Railroad, Canal Street, and Broadway; it was also known as “the dry goods district.”

As Strike got older, the hot summers took a toll on him. By 1908, he was about 17 years old and had lost almost all his teeth. Following several illnesses, it was decided that it was time to put him out of his misery.

Strike Leaves This World

On September 13, 1908, Lieutenant Von Beborsky was called on to humanely dispatch the beloved mascot.

Five years after Strike’s death, on December 1, 1913, the precinct was abolished and the building was vacated and converted for commercial use.

19 Leonard Street New York
19-21 Leonard Street was converted into condo lofts in the mid-1990s.

Over the years, occupants have included Cordley & Hayes Corporation, the Standard Rice Company, the Ronald Paper Company, the Hailer Elevator Company, and the Empire Elevator Corp. Today the old station house at 19-21 Leonard Street — where policemen, vagrants, prisoners, cats, and a dog named Strike once converged — is a condominium with five apartments.

For more on the history of 19-21 Leonard Street, check out Daytonian In Manhattan, who, ironically, posted a story about the station house the same day as I posted mine.

1888: Union Square Jim, the Mascot Cat of New York’s Union Square Theatre, II

Posted: 21st August 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Cat Mascots, Cat Stories
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MortonHouseUnionSquareColor

The Union Square Theatre on East 14th Street was constructed within the walls of the Union Place Hotel (later, the Morton House) in 1871. In 1887, a year after taking over the management, James Hill made extensive renovations to the exterior and interior of the theater.

In Part I of the Old New York cat story, we met Union Square Jim, the large, blue-eyed, orange tabby mascot of the old Union Square Theatre in New York City. Jim was born in the theater sometime around 1886, a year after James Hill took over as manager of the theater.

Jim was certainly well-loved by all the actors and stage hands — especially when he performed his many tricks for them — but his favorite person was janitor Michael Sweeney. Every night as Michael made his rounds, Jim would be at his side.

UnionSquareMap1885

The old Union Square Theatre, located at 58 East 14th Street, is noted in the top left quadrant of this 1885 map. The adjacent Star Theatre (previously Wallack’s Theatre; demolished in 1902) is just south on Broadway at 13th Street. 

The Great Fall

One afternoon during the summer of 1887, a skylight on the roof of the theater sprung a leak during a heavy rainstorm. Michael reportedly went on the roof to fix it, and he took his feline friend along to get some fresh air and sunshine.

As Michael was in the progress of repairing the skylight, he heard a loud crash. Looking up from what he was doing, he saw that Jim had fallen through another skylight and was frantically trying to hang on to the framework with one paw.

Right before Michael’s eyes, Jim lost his “grip” and fell down about 80 feet to the center of the auditorium below.

UnionSquareTheatreInterior

Jim fell about 80 feet from the roof skylight to the auditorium seating of the Union Square Hotel.

Michael rushed down the stairs and ran into the auditorium, where he found Jim lying motionless between two rows of chairs. Micheal carried the unconscious cat into his room, where he tended to his feline friend as best he could with alcohol and bandages.

Two weeks later, Jim was alert and back on his feet again, making the rounds with Michael as if the plunge from the roof had never happened. On September 26, 1887, he made his accidental stage debut during opening night of The Henrietta, a romantic comedy written by Bronson Howard and produced by the comedians Stuart Robson and William Henry Crane.

JMHill

James M. Hill took over the Union Square Theatre in 1885.

The Union Square Theatre Fire of 1888

On the afternoon of February 28, 1888, a fire broke out in a loft between the ceiling and roof of the auditorium of the theater. The flames were discovered just before 1 p.m. by stage carpenters and painters, who had been working on the stage with Ben Teal, the stage manager. James Hill was also in the building at the time; one of the stage hands ran into his office to warn him of the fire.

Union Square Jim was in the basement of the building, but no one came to warn the cat as he slept peacefully in his wicker basket.

The large fire caused extensive damage as it burned through the partitions that separated the theater from the Morton House (all the hotel guests had been safely evacuated). The two upper stories of the hotel facing Union Square caught fire, and the roof of the theater was demolished.

When the firemen got the fire under control at about 4 p.m., the walls of the hotel and theater were still intact.

UnionSquareFire

Most of the damage to the theater was caused by the freezing water, which destroyed the seats, curtains, and stage scenery.

Union Square Jim Is Saved

“Has anyone seen Jim?” Michael Sweeney asked everyone when he arrived on the scene later that afternoon. When no one answered, Michael asked one of the firemen to help him find the mascot cat.

Using a lantern, the two men made their way through the basement corridor to the dressing room where Jim spent his days sleeping. There, in the flooded room, they found Jim perched on top of his basket, trying to stay dry with no means of escape in sight.

That evening, there was a reception in honor of Jim at the Criterion, followed by a “general jollification” at the Hotel Hungaria across the street.  James Hill told everyone he would have the theater reopened on March 26 with Syndey Rosenfeld’s A Possible Case.

Three months after the fire, The New York Times reported:

“Jim was in troubled spirits and was moving about with an air of dejection. The chaotic and unsafe condition of the old building since the fire drove the petted darling Jim to the narrow confines of the property room in the rear of the theater, as dark and uninviting as a tomb. He was kept by himself in this room, on a 15-foot chain. He has been slowly withering in spirit and flesh in this chilly back room, and last week refused to eat at all. This alarmed the old stage hands, and after a solemn council it was decided to take Jim each night to the Madison Square Theatre in the hope that it would revive his health and spirits.”

Jim’s mood did change as soon as he saw his old friends at the theater. According to the news article, “He purred, jumped from chair to tables, frisked about the carpet, and peeked through the curtain from time to time to watch the assembling audience.”

One night during the performance of A Possible Cause, Jim decided to take the stage again, this time leaping onto the lead actor during a very dramatic scene. Jim brought the house down with laughter as he purred and licked the actor’s head and forehead in “a delirium of delight.” Although he was led off stage, there were many bursts of laughter as the drama progressed, and, after the last curtain, repeated calls were made for the theatrical cat to come and take a bow.

Not long after the fire, on September 10, 1888, Jim passed away. Drs. Johnson and Bickley of the New York Veterinarian College attended to Jim, who told a reporter from the Sun that they believe Jim ate a rat that did not agree with him. They tried to give him medicine and other treatment, but he never got better.

Sweeney was devastated by Jim’s death. “I fear I’ll never see his like again. He was lots of company, and he was fond of company, but he was never the same after the fire. I feel as much cut up over his death as I would over some men’s that I know.”

The Demise of the Union Square Theatre

A year after the fire, the Union Square Theatre reopened. It had been almost completely rebuilt to the designs of John Terhune and Leopold Eidlitz (although some of the design was by Charles P. Palmer, the manager of the property). Because of the cramped site, Palmer developed a horseshoe balcony that rose in the center to make good use of the high, narrow space. The interior was painted in old gold and ivory, and the proscenium arch (the part of the stage in front of the curtain) featured a large medallion with a painting of Shakespeare. The hand-carved cherry chairs were upholstered in electric blue.

BFKeithUnionSquare

In the 1890s, the old Union Square Theatre was a vaudeville theater operated by B.F. Keith and Edward Albee. NYPL Digital Collections

In 1893,  Benjamin Franklin Keith and Edward Franklin Albee,  the most powerful and successful vaudeville producers of their time, purchased the lease for the Union Square Theatre and completely remodeled it. The offered continuous vaudeville — George M. Cohan made his New York debut on its stage.

In 1906 the theater exhibited some early motion pictures; in 1908, it was converted once again to showcase only films. As B.F. Keith’s, the theater dabbled in “the most dubious activities that a picture house can indulge in,” according to The New York Herald Tribune (alluding to racy films and lectures about sex.)  The theater was sold and renamed the Acme in 1921, which featured primarily Soviet Russian films.

In May 1920, the old Morton House (then called the Hotel Churchill), B.F. Keith’s theater, and Union Square Hotel were sold at auction for the benefit of the Courtlandt Palmer heirs. The theater continued to run films until 1936, which is when the ground floor was  divided for some dry goods stores, destroying the orchestra section of the auditorium.

In 1986, the Philips International Corporation acquired the site and completely vacated the buildings. Demolition of the theater began in 1989, and, a few later, as the building was peeled away, this amazing photograph revealed the ruined remnants of the old Union Square Theatre  — complete with its finishes still brown with smoke from the fire that almost took the last of the nine lives of Union Square Jim.

UnionSquare2016.2_HatchingCat

Here is 58 East 14th Street today. Photo by P. Gavan

1888: Union Square Jim, the Mascot Cat of New York’s Union Square Theatre, I

Posted: 13th August 2016 by The Hatching Cat in Cat Mascots, Cat Men, Cat Stories
Tags: , , , , , ,
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Part I of an Old New York Cat Story

Vintage Cat with hat
This is not Jim, but I can imagine him looking quite similar to this vintage theatrical cat.

Like most cats that became the popular mascots of New York City police stations, fire stations, hotels, and theaters in the 1800s and 1900s, Jim began his life as a vagrant cat without friends or influence.  It didn’t take him long, however, to win the hearts of the managers, actors, and patrons of the old Union Square Theatre.

In fact, one might say he literally stole the show.

As a reporter for the Detroit Free Press wrote in a feature story about the cat on August 14, 1887, Union Square Jim was “either an exceptional cat or a proof of my ignorance concerning the kind.” The reporter noted that the large sorrel cat (think “Morris” from the old 9-Lives commercials) was first and foremost a sociable cat who loved human companionship.

Jim made his home under the stage of the Union Square Theatre at 58 East 14th Street (between Broadway and Fourth Avenue), which at that time was under the management of James M. Hill. His favorite person was janitor Michael Sweeney, but he also enjoyed visiting all the members of the acting companies in their dressing rooms before every performance.

Jim could also do quite a few tricks – for example, he could “sing,” shake paws, and stand on his hind legs — and he found himself in the spotlight on more than one occasion. Let’s just say that Jim had a knack for turning a sorrowful and serious drama scene into a comedy act that brought down the house with laughter and howls of delight.

Union Square Theatre 1874
The Union Square Theatre opened on September 11, 1871. This photo was taken between December 1, 1874, and June 15, 1875, which is when “The Two Orphans” starring James O’Neill (father of Eugene) ran at the theater (then under the management of Albert M. Palmer).  NYPL Digital Collections

Our story begins in 1886, in an unused dressing room at the Union Square Theatre. There, according to the book “Lady Lee and Other Animals Stories” by Harmon Lee Ensign, a quiet brindle cat named Roxy gave birth to five kittens. The kittens were discovered by janitor Henry Sweeney, who cared for the mother cat for several weeks so she in turn could feed her kittens.

According to Ensign’s version of the story, the mother cat was severely injured (broken ribs and other injuries) when a disgruntled actor kicked her against a corridor wall. Although she suffered greatly, Roxy cared for her kittens for five more days until she passed away.

Interior of Union Square Theatre
The interior of the Union Square Theatre

Within a few days, four of the five kittens also died (Henry tried to save them, but he did not know how). The smallest survived, and within a few weeks, poor little Jim was a bright and mischievous kitten.

Now, I have no historical proof of this specific part of the story — author Ensign, a New York animal rights supporter and philanthropist, may have taken liberty to embellish the tale of Jim’s birth for his book — but it makes for a good narrative.

Union Square Theater colorized
A color illustration of the photo of the Union Square Theatre shown above. NYPL Digital Collections

As a kitten, Jim spent most of the day under the stage, either in the dark passageways or in the dressing room. At night, after the final curtain came down and the crowds dispersed, Jim would follow Henry on his janitorial rounds. Man and cat would walk together from the cellar, where the scenery was stored, to the roof, where the moonlight came streaming through the skylights.

During their time together, Henry taught Jim many tricks, like standing erect, walking and “boxing” on his hind legs, and flicking his tail to the left or right on command. Jim was quite intelligent, and over time he also learned how to put on a show by weeping in mock mews, posing like different actors, and performing numerous acrobatic tricks.

HeleneMojeska
Madame Helena Modjeska

A few months after his first birthday, Jim was introduced to the theater proper, where he mingled with stagehands, actors, and other prominent people of the New York theater world. He was cuddled and coddled by his admirers and friends, who all considered him the mascot of the institution. And he was welcomed by Union Square Theatre manager James Hill, who considered him a good-luck charm for the theater (Jim would discharge any employee who tried to harm the cat, after giving the employee a lecture on animal cruelty).

One of Jim’s biggest fans was Madame Helena Modjeska, a renowned actress who specialized in Shakespearean and tragic roles. She gave him a wicker cradle stuffed with rich bedding materials. Jim was quite partial to this bed, and reportedly would not sleep anywhere else.

Jim also had a lady admirer in Bangor, Maine, who once sent him a plump package of catnip, which, according to The New York Times (February 19, 1888), he enjoyed “with the relish of an epicure.”

Union Square Jim Makes His Stage Debut

On September 26, 1887, The Henrietta, a romantic comedy written by Bronson Howard and produced by the comedians Stuart Robson and William Henry Crane, opened at the Union Square Theatre. Jim also chose to make his debut on the stage that night. According to a story in The New York Times, Jim got a bit frisky on stage and almost spoiled a scene.

Stuart Robson as Bertie the Lamb in The Henrietta at the Union Square Theatre in 1887. NYPL Digital Collections
Stuart Robson as Bertie the Lamb in The Henrietta at the Union Square Theatre in 1887. NYPL Digital Collections

Robson and Crane were angry at the large orange tabby at first, but they came to love Jim over the next few months. They even offered to buy Jim from Manager Hill and sought to have his name changed to Henrietta. Mr. Hill had to decline because one, Jim was a male, and two, he brought good luck to the theater (at least up to that time…)

A Brief History of the Union Square Theatre

In 1871, Sheridan Shook, a former butter and cheese merchant and collector with the Internal Review Service under Abraham Lincoln, signed a ten-year lease with Courtlandt Palmer, a wealthy hardware merchant and real estate speculator who owned what was then called the Union Place Hotel.

Shook renamed the hotel the Maison Doree and hired chief constructor H.M. Simons to build a variety (vaudeville) theater within the walls of the hotel. Construction began on May 1, 1871, and in a few months, a a 55- x 140-foot theater that could seat about 1,500 people replaced what had been the grand dining room of the Union Place Hotel.

The main entrance to the theater was on 14th Street and a separate entrance to the gallery and stage was on Fourth Avenue.

Union Place Hotel 1850
The Union Place Hotel, on on the southwest corner of Broadway and 14th Street, was constructed in 1849. In 1871, the Union Square Theatre was constructed within the walls of the hotel. That year, the hotel was renamed the Maison Doree by Sheridan Shook. In 1881, it was renamed the Morton House Hotel. NYPL Digital Collections  
Union Place Hotel
Here’s an earlier illustration of the Union Place Hotel, immediately to the left of Broadway. Grace Church on Broadway and 11th Street is in the background.

The new theater opened on September 11, 1871, under the management of Robert W. Butler, a variety manager and former proprietor of the American Concert Saloon at 414 Broadway. One year later, Albert M. Palmer, Shook’s clerk at the IRS, took over. Under Palmer’s management, the theater operated as the Union Square Theatre Stock Co.

Maison Doree Union Place
From 1871 to 1881, the old Union Place Hotel was called the Maison Doree. In this photo from that period, you can just make out the hotel name; just to the left, you can see the Union Square Theatre. 

The Old Peter Stuyvesant Farm

Sheridan Shoot
Sheridan Shook

The land on which the Union Place Hotel and adjunct Union Square Theatre occupied was once part of a 33-acre farm owned by Cornelius T. Williams, the son of Mary Magdalene Tiebout and Edward Williams, and the stepson of the late Cornelius Tiebout, a New York merchant.

Tiebout had acquired the land in 1748 from one of Peter Stuyvesant’s heirs. He built a farmhouse near the present-day intersection of East 18th Street and Park Avenue South, and named his estate Roxborough.

The land had originally been conveyed to Stuyvesant in 1651 by the Dutch West India Company. Stuvesant’s farm extended from the Bowery to the East River between present-day East 3rd Street and East 30th Street.

1885 painting by Albertis Del Orient Browere depicts Union Square, looking south from today's 14th Street, as it appeared in 1828. The Union Place Hotel was constructed 20 years later, right about where the white house stands
This 1885 painting by Albertis Del Orient Browere depicts Union Square, looking south from today’s 14th Street, as it appeared in 1828. The Union Place Hotel was constructed 20 years later, right about where the white house stands. 

In 1811, when the Commissioners’ Plan established Manhattan’s street grid, the area around Union Square was mostly farmland, as pictured above. In addition to the grid, the Commissioners’ Plan provided for a public square called Union Place at the intersection of the Bowery and Broadway, just to the west of the Williams’ property. In 1832, additional land was acquired for the park, which opened to the public as Union Square in 1839.

The Final Years of Jim and the Union Square Hotel

In Part II of this Old New York cat tale, I’ll share some more amazing stories about Jim, the Union Square Theatre cat, and about the final years of the old hotel.

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