Topsey, Turvey, Pickles, Grover, and Buffles were just some of the prized pets who made their home in the Whitby Kennels at the old Bergen Homestead on Flatbush Avenue.

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One of the most widely known and attractive of the old fashioned revolutionary residences, in which the town of Flatbush abounds, is the old Bergen homestead on Flatbush Avenue, above Grant Street. This ancient pile has become a decided attraction to the sightseers who travel out that way, principally on Sundays, not on account of its historical importance, but because of the Whitby dog kennel, which has been located there for about two years. –Brooklyn Daily Eagle, August 1893

In 1891, a once prominent lawyer from Rye, New York, leased the old John C. Bergen homestead at 972 Flatbush Avenue, just below Grant Street (today’s Snyder Avenue), at the corner of Avenue A (today’s Albemarle Road).

Hurlut Chapman grew up on his family's 40-acre estate, Whitby, on the old Boston Post Road in Rye, New York. The 1854 Gothic Revival house, pictured here in 1887, was sold to New York grocer Joseph Park, the owner of Park and Tilford, in 1886. Today the Whitby Castle still stands on the grounds of the Rye Golf Club and is used as the clubhouse.
Hurlut Chapman grew up on his family’s 40-acre estate, Whitby, on the old Boston Post Road in Rye, New York. The 1854 Gothic Revival house, pictured here in 1887, was sold to New York grocer Joseph Park, the owner of Park and Tilford, in 1886. Today the Whitby Castle still stands on the grounds of the Rye Golf Club and is used as the clubhouse. 

Once a man of considerable wealth, Hurlbut Chapman (aka Hurlburt or Herbert), the son of stockbroker Henry P. Chapman and Rebecca Hurlbut, had reportedly lost his fortune and so decided to earn a living by operating a dog and cat kennel in Brooklyn. The Whitby Kennels also served as a summer boarding house for the pets of the rich and famous.

During the next two years, the Whitby Kennels became very well known to many Brooklynites who loved finely bred dogs and who thought of the kennels as one of the attractions of the town.

The first thing that attracted the attention of passersby was the number of handsome dogs which were tethered in the two-acre fenced-in yard. The tethering system was considered quite novel and practical: Long wires were stretched from tree to tree, upon which ran lose rings to which the dogs were fastened by chains ranging in length from 50 to 100 feet long.

Each wire was far enough apart to prevent the dogs from mingling or quarreling, allowing up to a dozen dogs to run in the yard at a time. (With over 30 dogs at the kennels, the dogs had to take turns on the tethers.)

Blocks of wood were strung from the wires about six feet from each tree in order to prevent the dogs from getting tangled around the trees.

In this 1890 E. Robinson map, you can see the J.C. Bergen homestead at the corner of Flatbush Avenue and  Avenue A. This is where the Whitby Kennels were.
In this 1890 E. Robinson map, you can see the J.C. Bergen homestead at the corner of Flatbush Avenue and  Avenue A. The Bergen estate opened Avenue A through their property in 1885, but in 1897, at the request of developers, the City of Brooklyn renamed it Albemarle Road after the London street (named for the Duke of Albemarle). Directly across the street is the old Teunis Bergen estate at 977 Flatbush Avenue, just south of Butler Road. In 1904, Butler Road was also renamed Albemarle Road, and in 1903, Grant Street (opened in 1876) was renamed Snyder Avenue after John Jacob Snyder, a  prominent hardware and furniture merchant in Flatbush.
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Grover was trimmed to look like a lion, and could perform many tricks, like walking on his hind legs, bowing, and praying.

In the rear of the yard, to the left of the house, was a stable and barnyard where little pups were kept together until they could care for themselves. It was here that Hurlbut Chapman also kept any new dogs that he received until he could thoroughly examine them and test their disposition before allowing them to mingle with any other dogs.

Special dogs, such as James and his son Grover — two black poodles owned by James Gordon Bennett, Jr. — were kept indoors, on the first floor of the old homestead.

One of Hurlbut Chapman's most famous clients at Whitby Kennels was James Gordon Bennett, Jr., publisher of the New York Herald. Gordon was an accomplished sportsman--he organized the first polo match and tennis match in the U.S.--and so probably had no time to devote to his poodles.
One of Hurlbut Chapman’s most famous clients at Whitby Kennels was James Gordon Bennett, Jr., publisher of the New York Herald. Gordon was an accomplished sportsman–he organized the first polo match and tennis match in the U.S.–and so probably had no time to devote to his poodles.

The dogs, each valued at $500, were given to Gordon by a prominent New York woman, and were trained to do difficult and funny tricks. According to one article published in the New York World in 1893, the dogs were trained by Captain Farley of Hook & Ladder Company No. 15 at Old Slip and Pearl Street.

Prize-winning show dogs, including fox terriers Sparkle and Pickles, blue Skye Terrier Buffles, Irish setters Flashlight and Sunray, and Ruth, a smooth-coated St. Bernard that was reportedly as large as a cow, were also kept indoors at the Whitby Kennels. They had full run of the house, and were often caught napping on the couches.

Hurlbut, with some assistance from his brother William and a female cousin, also bred Angora cats. It was said that he had five of the most handsome Angora cats in the country: Turvy (the sole Tom cat, who took a prize at the first National Cat Show in 1895), Fluff and Topsy (who also took a prize at the cat show), Puff, and Pansy.

The cats had their own cages on the front porch; they also spent time indoors in the drawing room, which took up half of the homestead’s lower floor and featured a piano that the cats liked to play on. Several litters of Angora kittens occupied a room on the upper floor.

On June 25, 1893, the New York World reported that Hurlbut had a group portrait taken of all his dogs and cats at the Whitby Kennels. How I’d love to find this photo!

The John C. Bergen Homestead

The oldest house in Flatbush is the Bergen homestead, built by Dominie Freeman, who was mainly responsible for the spiritual welfare of early Flatbushers. Generous in its proportions, faces full upon the main thoroughfare. Original side shingles remain intact; heavy wooden shutters on the second floor had been replaced by modern window blinds. A simple porch supported by 4 plain columns, and a still more simpler door, with brass knocker and long panels, attract the attention of the most unlearned wayfarer. Many generations of Bergens have stepped out into the world from this same plain door that stares at the passing trolley-cars, and more than one romance has woven its magic charm around the long, substantial pile.—The Book of a Hundred Houses, 1902

The Bergen Homestead on Flatbush, where the Whitby Kennels were.

Built sometime around 1735, the old homestead — sometimes called the Freeman homestead — was home to Dominie Bernadus Freeman, a native of Holland who served as pastor of the Reformed Dutch Church in Flatbush (aka Midwout, or the middle woods) from 1705 to 1741. Back then, Flatbush Avenue was known as Main Street, which previously was an old Native American trail that led from the Jamaica Bay to the East River.

The home was constructed of wood and featured low ceilings with heavy wooden crossbeams. The foundation and fireplace were constructed of bricks reportedly brought over from Holland. The front door facing Flatbush Avenue opened to a long hall with a square sitting room to the right and a dining and living room to the left.

The Revolutionary War Period

Dominie Freeman reportedly enjoyed good wine, and when he came to America, he brought with him a considerable quantity from Holland, which he kept in a wine cellar in the west wing of the house. Reportedly, the British Red Coats overindulged on Dominie’s good wine during the Battle of Long Island in August 1776.

According to one story, Dominie Freeman was a Whig — the political party that believed in separating from England — and a neighbor by the name of John Ruble was a Tory, and thus,  did not want America to separate from England. Ruble told the British of the sparkling wine in the cellar, and even directed them to the house.

A side view of the Bergen house at 972 Flatbush Avenue in 1877. You can picture the dogs of the Whitby Kennels playing in the large side yard.
A side view of the Bergen house at 972 Flatbush Avenue in 1877. You can almost picture the dogs of the Whitby Kennels playing in the large side yard.

Dominie Freeman reportedly hid the wine in the eaves of the house, and then took to the woods with his family, including his only child, Anna Margaretta, and his son-in-law, David Clarkson. The British eventually found the wine and for three days took part in a drunken revelry. By the end of the party, the Red Coats had all but passed out under the trees in the yard. Had the American officers known about the effects of the “find” they might have utilized the knowledge and changed the course of history.

David Clarkson and his bride took possession of the homestead during the Revolution, and at one time the home was used as a military prison and later as a hospital after the battle.

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Sometime after the war ended, the home and farm came into the possession of Hendrik Suydam, who in turn willed the property to his daughter Gertrude. In 1785, Gertrude married Cornelius Bergen, the son of Hans (Johannes) Bergen of Norway and Catryntie De Hart. Cornelius served as the Sheriff of Kings County from 1794-98, and from 1800 to 1805.

For over 100 years, the property stayed in the Bergen family. John C. Bergen, the son of Cornelius and Gertrude, inherited the home and large farm as per his mother’s will dated April 25, 1838. John and his wife, Belinda Antonide, had several children — Cornelia Lozier Bergen, Mrs. Abraham Lott (Gertrude), and Mrs. William H. Story (Maria) — who continued to own and lease the house until about 1900.

The End of Whitby Kennels and the Bergen Homestead

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Several of Hurlbut Chapman’s Angora cats won prizes at the first annual National Cat Show at Madison Square Garden II in 1895. A year later, his cat Marie escaped from the show.

In March 1896, Hurlbut’s cat Marie — a brown and black Angora from Paris — was one of several cats to escape from the second annual National Cat Show at Madison Square Garden II. She was captured shortly thereafter, and was awarded a silver bowl for best long-haired cat in her class.

Three months later, Hurlbut Chapman died at the age of 38 (pneumonia) at his home in the old Leggett estate on Mamaroneck Avenue in White Plains, New York.

By this time, the Whitby Kennels were located in what was once the Village of Kensico (now Valhalla), just north of White Plains, and were being managed by Chapman’s female cousin. In addition to boarding cats, dogs, and horses, the cousin also reportedly had a small pet cemetery on the grounds, where, in 1896, one cat and three dogs were buried.

The Village of Kensico -- population 200 -- was burned down and then flooded in 1913 to create the Kensico Dam, which was completed in 1917. Here's a great video about the village and the dam.
The Village of Kensico — population 200 — was burned down and then flooded in 1913 to create the Kensico Dam, which was completed in 1917. Here’s a great video about the village and the dam.

In the late 1880s and early 1890s, the old Bergen homestead — still owned by the heirs of John C. Bergen — was leased and occupied by Secretary William H. Brown of the Williasmsburgh Fire Insurance Company. William Brown and his wife were quite social, and many a party and wedding took place at the home during the 15 years that they lived there.

Then on January 19, 1901, workmen began tearing down the house. Luckily, the family was able to salvage a cannonball that had become implanted in the walls during the Battle of Long Island, and a window on which were engraved several names of patriots who fought in the Revolution.

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In 1905, the Chelsea Improvement Company developed Prospect Park South, a 50-acre tract that included part of the old John C. Bergen farm. Then in 1906, the Abels-Gold Realty Company constructed six brick structures on the property fronting Flatbush Avenue, each with stores on the lower levels and apartments above. These buildings are still standing today.

The former Teunis Bergen homestead at 977 Flatbush Avenue.
The former Teunis Bergen homestead at 977 Flatbush Avenue.

Just across the street at 977 Flatbush Avenue was the old Teunis Bergen homestead, built around 1835. Over the years, the home’s large parlor served as a place of worship for several Brooklyn churches, including the Presbyterian Church, Baptist Church of the Redeemer, and St. Mark’s Methodist Church. The home also served as an annex for the nearby Erasmus Hall High School.

In 1903, Spencer C. Cary purchased the home, which at that time was owned by the Empire Dairy Company. Cary sold the home to the Borden Milk Company in 1910, and soon thereafter the old home was razed.

The Albermarle Theatre on Flatbush Avenue.
The Albermarle Theatre on Flatbush Avenue.

William Fox’s Albemarle Theatre was constructed on the site of the Teunis Bergen homestead in 1920. The building was damaged in a fire in 1984, but was subsequently purchased by the Jehovah’s Witnesses, who still use the building as their Assembly Hall.

Hog
I’m not sure where this is, but the caption for this photo is: “The last hog raised on Manhattan Island” (1910). Museum of the City of New York Collections

To celebrate Groundhog Day, I wanted to write a story in remembrance of Staten Island Chuck, the poor groundhog that died shortly after Mayor Bill deBlasio dropped her in 2014. I couldn’t find an interesting groundhog story from Old New York, but I did find a story about a hog that lived on a farm in Staten Island’s Sandy Ground community.

This silly-but-sad hog tale has an interesting historical connection to Dorothy Day, the Brooklyn native who was a renowned journalist and Catholic social activist.

The Great Hog Adventure

In December 1911, Herman Conrad Oechsli, a plumber and part-time farmer in what was then called the Borough of Richmond (the borough was renamed Staten Island in 1975), called on three of his Sandy Ground neighbors to help him reign in and slaughter his 400-pound Berkshire hog. John Foster, Robert Brinley, and William Farley all responded to his call for help.

John Foster told Herman that he had once been a cowboy in Wyoming, so he suggested using a lasso to catch the hog in his pen. The hog wasn’t too pleased with the lasso — you might say he was fit to be tied — and took off running with Foster dragging behind. Apparently, Foster had gotten a little rusty in his skills, because he had become entangled by his end of the lasso.

The large hog broke through a gate and started running in the direction of St. George. “Stop me!” Foster yelled as the three others chased man and swine for almost a mile. The chase caused quite a stir among residents of the Sandy Ground community, who all gave Foster and the hog a wide berth as they ran down the street.

Herman Conrad Oeschli grew up on his family's 22-acre farm at 469 Bloomingdale Road in the Sandy Ground section of Staten Island. Although this photo was taken sometime around 1950, the farm and old farmhouse probably looked very similar in 1911 when the great hog struggle took place.
Herman Conrad Oeschli grew up on his family’s 22-acre farm at 469 Bloomingdale Road in Staten Island. Although this photo was taken sometime around 1950, the farm and old farmhouse probably looked very similar in 1911 when the great hog struggle took place.

At last, the giant hog had to stop out of sheer exhaustion, allowing John Foster time to disentangle himself. Needless to say, the story does not have a happy ending for the hog, as John was more than happy to do the honors for Herman.

 The Sandy Ground Community

The Oeschli Farm was located on the outskirts of a small enclave in the Rossville section of Staten Island that is now known as Sandy Ground. Located inland near the island’s South Shore in what was once called the Westfield district, Sandy Ground is the oldest continuously inhabited free Black settlement in the United States.

Much has been written about Sandy Ground, so I won’t get into too many details, but a brief overview may be of interest to those not familiar with this community’s history.

Originally inhabited by the Raritan Indians, the Westfield district of the Borough of Richmond remained largely uninhabited by European settlers until about 1661, when Pieterse Wynant (aka Peter Winant) and some other men established the first permanent European settlement in the area (Wynant’s homestead was near the old Blazing Star Cemetery on Arthur Kill Road north of Rossville Road).

Another early settler was Daniel Perrin, a Huguenot from New Jersey who was granted 80 acres of land in what was then called Smoking Point by Governor Benjamin Fletcher in 1692. During the mid 18th century, the area was known as Blazing Star, for a popular tavern of that name. The Blazing Star Ferry, established in 1722, was first operated by Anthony Wright, who paddled folks over the Arthur Kill to Woodbridge Township, New Jersey, for many years prior to the Revolution.

Sometime around 1835, the area formerly known as Smoking Point and Blazing Star was renamed Rossville, after Colonel William E. Ross, a prominent early settler. Ross built his Ross Castle (later called Lyon Castle), a replica of Windsor Castle, on a bluff overlooking the Blazing Star Ferry on the shores of the Arthur Kill.
Sometime around 1835, the area formerly known as Smoking Point and Blazing Star was renamed Rossville, after Colonel William E. Ross, a prominent early settler. Ross built his Ross Castle (later called Lyon Castle), a replica of Windsor Castle, on a bluff overlooking the Blazing Star Ferry on the shores of the Arthur Kill. 

In 1828, a year after slavery was abolished in New York State, a free African-American ferry boat owner-operator named John Jackson bought 2.5 acres in the area, which was the first recorded purchase of land by a freed black man on Staten Island. Captain Jackson operated a ferry to New Jersey (and later, to Manhattan); some speculate that he may have played a role in the Underground Railroad, ferrying slaves across the Kill Van Kull to New Jersey.

During the 1830s and 1840s, free black oystermen who had fled Maryland and Virginia came to the island to harvest oysters in Prince’s Bay on the island’s South Shore. Then in 1850, two New Jersey brothers of African descent, Moses K. and Silas K. Harris, bought property near the intersection of today’s Bloomingdale Road and Woodrow Road, which was considered to be within walking distance of the bay (about 2 miles). Although the sandy soil was considered useless, the Harris brothers were able to prosper by growing  strawberries and asparagus on the land.

By the early 1900s, about 150 families — all descendants of these original black setters — were living in the Sandy Ground community.

lthough the Harris brothers' homestead was demolished in the 1980s, the home of Isaac Harris, the son of Silas Harris, still stands at 444 Bloomingdale Road in Sandy Ground.
Although the Harris brothers’ homestead was demolished in the 1980s, the home of Isaac Harris, the son of Silas Harris, still stands at 444 Bloomingdale Road. The house was designed by famed architect Standford White in 1906, who reportedly drew up the plans as a gift for Isaac Harris’ years of service on his household staff. This home is one of only about a dozen of the original old homes still standing in the Sandy Ground community.

On April 20, 1963, Rossville was hit by the worst of three brush fires to devastate Staten Island. Although a few remnants of the original Sandy Ground settlement still exist, most of the original houses were destroyed in the fire. Today the neighborhood is dominated by townhouses that went up beginning in the 1970s, when developers began snatching up parcels of land for literally a steal from the black land owners.

For more information or to take a virtual tour of the area, visit the Sandy Ground Historical Society.

The Oechsli Farm and Dorothy Day

Herman Conrad Oeschli was the son of Conrad and Louise Oechsli, two Swiss immigrants who came to America sometime around 1880. The couple purchased a 22-acre farm and farmhouse at 469 Bloomingdale Road, where the family lived for the next 60 years.

OeschliFarm_HatchingCat
Based on its location north of Pleasant Plains and west of Maguire Avenue, and the fact that the Oechsli’s farm was 22 acres, I believe the land had previously been owned by P. Clarins, depicted in this 1874 atlas of Westfield, Richmond County.

Herman Oechsli was born in Manhattan on November 13, 1884, and was married on September 1, 1910, to Caroline L. Woreth, also a native of Switzerland. The couple had a daughter, Carolyne, born in 1912; a son, Frank, born in 1914 (he died in 1919); and a son, Bernard, born in 1915.

In addition to helping out on the family farm and trying catch hogs, Herman worked as a plumber and later as a deputy city clerk.

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Herman and his family lived at 455 Bloomingdale Road from the 1930s until his death on January 1, 1944. Today, this circa 1930 home is surrounded by more modern brick and aluminum-sided homes built in the 20th century. 

For many years before and after Herman’s death, the Oechsli farm stood unused. Then on August 28, 1950, at the urging of social activist Dorothy Day, the Catholic Worker newspaper purchased the farm for use as a Catholic work camp. They named the camp the Peter Maurin Farm in honor of Dorothy’s former co-founder of the Catholic Worker.

Several years later, Dorothy wrote about the farm in Catholic Worker:

Our farm is better than our neighbors, Mr. Gerecke’s. It is 22 acres and was owned for the past sixty years by a Swiss family, and well cared for and loved. There is a beautiful little barn, right now being converted into a chapel and conference hall, and the house has eleven rooms, spacious hall and two attics, besides porches, front and back. There is an outer kitchen which we are transforming into a bake shop, where we will bake bread for our New York breadline; there are carpenter shops, toolsheds, chicken coops, pig pens, corncribs, a feed house, carriage shed, blacksmith shop and so on in the way of outbuildings.

There is an attractive woodlot and tiny pool grown over with rushes and water lilies, which can be dug out. There are three acres of asparagus, which provide a work project for all who come, for weeding, hoeing and mulching, and roundtable discussions go on meanwhile. There are pear trees, grapevines, work to do at once, even without tools and materials to do them with.

The work camp at Peter Maruin’s Farm thrived for about 10 years — members of the German Bruderhof community even made the farm their home in 1954 — but in 1960 the Catholic Worker sold the land and started a new camp at the Rose Hill estate in Tivoli, located on the Hudson River just north of Rhinebeck, New York.

Shortly after Dorothy Day's death on November 29, 1980, the Catholic Worker farm at Tivoli (where Dorothy is pictured here) was sold. A new Peter Maurin Farm in Marlboro, New York, was established, where it continues to operate today.
Shortly after Dorothy Day’s death on November 29, 1980, the Catholic Worker farm at Tivoli (where Dorothy is pictured here) was sold. A new Peter Maurin Farm in Marlboro, New York, was established, where it continues to operate today. 

Today, the Peter Maurin Farm grows much of the food for Manhattan’s two Catholic Worker houses and soup kitchens. Eight thousand pounds of kale, onion, potatoes, and other produce are shipped from the farm every year to help feed about 100 people a day on the soup line and about 50 house residents.

There are no farms or hogs in sight in this satellite view of 469 Bloomingdale Road in the Sandy Grove neighborhood of Staten Island (Google Earth).
There are no farms or hogs in sight in this satellite view of 469 Bloomingdale Road in the Sandy Grove neighborhood of Staten Island (Google Earth).

If you enjoyed this tale, you may enjoy reading about the hogs that were hunted on Barren Island in 1909.

BridgetCork_HatchingCatNYC.jpg
Following a long journey from Ireland to New York on the S.S. Essex, Miss Bridget Cork arrived in New York City on February 14, 1894, and was delivered to Mayor Thomas F. Gilroy at City Hall.

In 1893, America celebrated the 400th anniversary of Christopher Columbus’ arrival in the New World at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago. One of the many guests of honor at the opening ceremonies was Cristóbal Colón de la Cerda, a descendant of Christopher Columbus and the 14th Spanish Duke of Veragua.

The Spanish Duke arrived in Chicago by way of New York City, where he spent several days touring the city with Mayor Thomas Francis Gilroy and other members of the city’s Columbus Reception Committee of One Hundred.

So what does Christopher Columbus, Mayor Thomas Gilroy, and a Spanish Duke have to do with an Irish cat from County Cork? Well, it is because of the Duke’s visit to America that this quaint story about an Irish cat named Miss Bridget Cork can be told. In fact, one could almost say this cat story is tied to the discovery of America. Okay, maybe I’m stretching it a bit, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity.

WorldColumbianExpo_HatchingCat

New York City, Washington, D.C., St. Louis, and Chicago had all vied to host the World’s Columbian Exposition. In fact, it was during this spirited competition that Charles A. Dana, editor of the New York Sun, dubbed Chicago “that windy city.” On April 25, 1890, President Benjamin Harrison signed the act that designated Chicago as the site of the exposition. The event was supposed to take place in 1892, but it took longer than expected to prepare and produce the exposition.

Our story begins on April 23, 1892, the day President Grover Cleveland sent the Duke of Veragua an invitation to attend the opening ceremonies at the World’s Columbian Exposition as a guest of the government and the people of the United States. The Duke arrived in New York a year later on April 15, 1893, aboard the American Line steamship appropriately named S.S. New York, accompanied by his wife, Dona Isabel de Aquilera, the Duchess of Veragua; his son, Don Cristobal Colon de Aguilara; his daughter, Dona Maria; his brother, the Marquis of Barbolis; and the Marquis’ son, Pedro Columbus de la Corda.

The Spanish Duke: Born in Madrid in 1837, Don Cristóbal Colón de Toldeo de la Cerda y Gante, Duke of Veragua, Marquis of Jamaica, and Admiral and Adelantado, Mayor of the Indies, was the thirteenth in direct descent from Christopher Columbus.
Born in Madrid in 1837, Don Cristóbal Colón de Toldeo de la Cerda y Gante, Duke of Veragua, Marquis of Jamaica, and Admiral and Adelantado, Mayor of the Indies, was the thirteenth in direct descent from Christopher Columbus.

The first person to greet the Spanish Duke to America was U.S. Navy Commander Francis W. Dickins, who had been selected to represent the United States Government. Commander Dickins presented the Duke with the Freedom of the City (today we call this the Key to the City) and then escorted the royal family to the brand-new Waldorf Hotel on Fifth Avenue, which had opened only one month before in March 1893.

During his time in the city, the Spanish Duke and his family were guests of numerous grand receptions at City Hall, the Waldorf, and other locations throughout the city. The Duke of Veragua also visited Mayor Thomas F. Gilroy at his home in Harlem at 7 West 121st Street, took a tour through Central Park, and visited Grant’s Tomb.

Following a three-month stay in America, the Duke, his family, and their 92 shipping trunks departed New York on board the French liner La Bretagne. Despite being entertained by the city in a most elaborate fashion, the Spanish Duke reportedly left without giving the mayor or any other political dignitaries a thank-you letter or gift.

Commander Dickins apparently had better manners…

The Spanish Duke of Veragua and his family were the first guests to stay in the Waldorf’s state apartments, a suite of nine rooms for visiting foreign dignitaries located on the second floor, overlooking Fifth Avenue and 33rd Street. Pictured here is the Henry IV drawing room. Built in 1893 and connected to the Astor Hotel in 1897, the Waldorf Hotel – later the Waldorf–Astoria – was razed in 1929 to make way for construction of the Empire State Building. Princeton University Library
The Duke of Veragua and his family were the first guests to stay in the Waldorf’s state apartments, a suite of nine rooms for visiting foreign dignitaries located on the second floor, overlooking Fifth Avenue and 33rd Street. Pictured here is the Henry IV drawing room. Built in 1893 and connected to the Astor Hotel in 1897, the Waldorf Hotel – later the Waldorf–Astoria – was razed in 1929 to make way for construction of the Empire State Building. Princeton University Library

A Cat Arrives at City Hall

On February 14, 1894, a pine box with slats on top arrived at New York City Hall. Acting Secretary McDonough was not sure what to make of the box, and was even worried that it might contain a dangerous device.

“What is it?” asked Mayor Gilroy. “A cat!” McDonough replied, after hearing the cat meow. “By George, there’s a real Gaelic tone to her voice,” said one joker in the office. “Yes, and she has County Galway whiskers,” said another.

Born on June 3, 1840, in Sligo, Ireland, Thomas Francis Gilory was a key member of the Tammany Hall organization
Born on June 3, 1840, in Sligo, Ireland, Thomas Francis Gilory was a key member of the Tammany Hall organization, beginning as a messenger for “Boss” William Tweed, and serving as confidential secretary for Henry W. Genet, Tweed’s Tammany Hall successor. He was New York City’s 89th mayor, serving just one term from 1893-94.

Inside the box was also a letter dated February 12, 1894, as follows:

My Dear Mayor Gilroy:
Last August I sailed from the United States, with the United States ship Monongahela under my command, for Queenstown, Ireland. Upon our arrival and during our stay there we received the most hearty welcome and gracious hospitality from all the Irish people, and particularly so from the gallant Mayor of Cork, the Hon. Augustine M. Roche.

Remembering your kindness to me in New York when I had the honor to represent the President of the United States in charge of the courtesies to the Duke of Veragua while he was the guest of the Nation, I wanted to bring back to you some token from that beautiful country, and the Mayor of Cork kindly gave me—not a tigerbut a gentle cat with a heart whose warmth is only exceeded by those of her countrymen.

Hence, I send to you today, by express, Miss Bridget Cork, accompanied by appropriate verses, composed by Mrs. Franklin Weld of Boston, with a chorus set to music. The clever lines I hope will please you, and that you will accept Miss Bridget with my profound gratitude, and with the best wishes for her welfare as well as your own, believe me to me, very sincerely yours, F.W. Dickins, Commander U.S.N.

Described in The New York Times as a handsome, good-natured purring cat, with a soft coat of dark gray and stripes of a darker hue, Bridget Cork had traveled from Queenstown to America with Commander Dickins on the SS Essex, which had arrived at the Norfolk Navy Yard on February 11. She then traveled by train to New York City in the pine box.

CommanderDickins_HatchingCat
Commander Francis William Dickins, 1898

No one at City Hall could tell if the following verses composed by Mrs. Weld went to “Wearing of the Green,” “The Cat Came Back,” “Annie Laurie,” or any other song:

God speed to you, Captain Dickens, On your voyage across the sea!
Bear to Gilroy, Mayor of New York, The warmest of greetings from me.
From Ireland here to the Irish there, Good luck and comfort and care;
May they ne’er forget their country, In their homes across the sea.

The home land! The heart land! Through their homes are there, their hearts we share. Hurrah for the ould countrie! New York, ahoy! Here’s to Mayor Gilroy, to Roche and the Irish cat!

Writing is too cold and measured, And for words we are too far apart;
So warm hearts here send in greeting to you, A warm little Irish heart–
A symbol of comfort and luck,  A real little Irish cat.
With Irish for pluck and a cat for luck, Can I send better than that?

The luck land! The pluck land! The Irish for pluck, the cat for luck. Hurrah for the Irish cat! New York, ahoy! Here’s to Mayor Gilroy, to Roche, and the Irish cat!

Although she wasn’t any match for Thomas Nast’s Tammany Tiger, Mayor Gilroy was quite pleased with the cat — and Bridget was quite pleased to be out of the box — but he knew there was no way she could stay at City Hall. After all, City Hall already had Tom, its brazen feline mascot, and Tom would never have accepted another cat in his territory.

So Mayor Gilroy sent Bridget to his home on West 121st Street, where I’m sure she received plenty of attention from the mayor’s ten children.

GilroyFarRockaway_HatchingCat

Perhaps Bridget Cork was lucky enough to spend her summers with the Gilory family at their home on Ocean Avenue (near present-day Ocean Crest Boulevard and Bay 32nd Street). The large white house with green trim fronted away from the shore, and from the back yard one could see the ocean, and in the distance, Sandy Hook, New Jersey. Thomas Gilroy died in this home on December 1, 1911. He was buried alongside his wife, Mary, at Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx.

In my last post, I introduced you to Morgan Phillips, an old circus man who lived in a tent at 40 Cherry Street in New York City with his wife, their grandson, a horse, and some dogs. In this post, I’ll tell you the beginning and the end of Morgan’s story, and explore the history of 40 Cherry Street.

CherryStreet1891_HatchingCatNYCMorgan and Clarissa S. Phillips lived at 40 Cherry Street — the white  rectangular lot south of Roosevelt Street in this 1891 atlas of Manhattan. Just to the left is the massive Gotham Court Tenement, constructed in 1850. The long, narrow alleyways West Gotham Place and East Gotham Place are on either side.

The Beginning of the End

On August 22, 1892, a young man was found lying in the street at the corner of Market Street and East Broadway. According to news reports, he was taken to Gouverneur Hospital, where, just before he died, he said his name was Albert and that he lived at 30 Monroe Street. Shortly thereafter, an unidentified elderly man called at the hospital and said the young man was his son, Albert Phillips.

This elderly man was no doubt Morgan L. Phillips.

On Wednesday, June 7, 1893, less than a year after their son’s death,  Morgan Phillips and his wife, Clarissa, moved their small red-striped canvas tent from the vacant lot at 30 Monroe Street to the fenced-in lot at 40 Cherry Street.

MonroeStreet1891_HatchingCatNYCThe Phillips were living in a tent in a vacant lot at 30 Monroe Street (the white lot just above the bend in Hamilton Street) when Albert died in August 1892. Today, this square block between Cherry, Market, Catherine, and Monroe streets is the site of the Knickerbocker Village housing development, erected in 1933-34.

According to an article in the New York Herald on June 12, 1893, the family had been living rent-free at 30 Monroe Street for quite a few years when they were forced to find a new home. Apparently, one of the heirs of the estate passed away, and the surviving property owners wanted to erect a four-story tenement on the small lot.

Although they reportedly had several grown children who begged them to find a real home, Morgan and Clarissa moved to 40 Cherry Street, where their tent served as a parlor and dining room, and an old Tally-Ho stagecoach served as their bedroom. Two “large, fierce dogs” and a big bay horse shared the lot with the couple and their grandson (possibly one of Albert’s two sons).

MonroeStreet2_HatchingCatNYC.jpgIn 1934, when this photograph  was taken, 30 Monroe Street was once again an empty lot, so to speak; the four-story tenement built in 1893 had already been demolished to make way for the new Knickerbocker Village under construction. NYPL Digital Collections

The Passing of Clarissa

In the fall of 1893, 76-year-old Clarissa visited a daughter who lived in Seneca Falls, New York. Shortly after returning to New York City in January, she developed pneumonia. Since she was not fit to sleep outdoors, the couple rented two squalid back rooms on the third floor of a four-story pre-Old Law tenement building at 33 Cherry Street.

On February 13, 1894, Morgan Phillips said goodbye to his wife of over 40 years. Heartbroken and confused, Morgan failed to call for an undertaker. Neighbors who had heard Clarissa groaning, and who had seen Morgan kneeling next to her motionless body in the bedroom through a common hallway window, thought he had killed her and called for the police.

33CherryStreet_HatchingCatNYC.jpgClarissa Phillips died at 33 Cherry Street, seen from the back in this photo taken from Water Street in 1936 (farthest windows on right). When the block was demolished as part of a slum clearance project, it was discovered that No. 29-29½, the squat, 2-story building in the shadows, was an old Dutch-style townhouse that once housed the officers of George Washington’s staff. Efforts to save “the oldest house left in Manhattan” were unsuccessful.  NYPL Digital Collections

When Policeman O’Connor, Roundsman Wilbur, and Officer Bowen of the Oak Street police station arrived at the apartment, they had to force open the door. Morgan Phillips told them he did not answer the door because he was frightened and thought he might be harmed. He explained what had happened to his wife and then told them the story of his life.

On February 14, Morgan got a burial permit from the Board of Health. Many neighbors attended her funeral services the next day.

When Policeman O’Connor came to check on Morgan’s welfare after the funeral – to make sure that he hadn’t froze to death – Morgan Phillips was wrapped in blankets and surrounded by straw. He said he could not bear going back to the apartment where his wife had died. Policeman O’Connor said there was no law against sleeping in the open air, so he let him be.

Officer Alonzo S. Evans of the SPCA also came out to check on him and found that the horse and dogs were fine. Officer Evans reported that the tent afforded good protection from the weather for both man and beast, although the roof leaked a little.

The Final Straw on Cherry Street

For weeks after Clarissa’s death, the young hoodlums of Cherry Street tormented Morgan by throwing stones at his property and tearing up his tent. On March 4, 1894, they hung an effigy made of straw-stuffed corduroy pants, coat, and hat from a telegraph pole on the lot. Morgan Phillips discovered the effigy upon returning home from a visit with his daughter-in-law, who was living at 6 Clarkson Street.
For weeks after Clarissa’s death, the young hoodlums of Cherry Street tormented Morgan by throwing stones at his property and tearing up his tent. On March 4, 1894, they hung an effigy made of straw-stuffed corduroy pants, coat, and hat from a telegraph pole on the lot. Morgan discovered the effigy upon returning home from a visit with his daughter-in-law, who was living at 6 Clarkson Street.

On March 7, 1894, three days after the Cherry Hill boys hung an effigy from a telepgraph pole on his lot, Morgan Phillips died at Bellvue Hospital at the age of 76 (give or take a year). The New York press said he died from pneumonia. We all know that he died of a broken heart.

A Brief History of 40 Cherry Street
This concludes the story of Morgan Phillips. (I regret that I do not know what became of the grandson, the horse, or the dogs.) If you like to explore New York City history, you may enjoy the following about Cherry Street.

Read the rest of this entry »

In my last post, I wrote about Donald Burns, an animal dealer who lived and sold wild animals on Roosevelt Street in New York City’s deep Lower East Side. While doing research for this story, I came across an article in The New York Times about Morgan L. Phillips, the Gypsy of Cherry Street.

According to the article, Morgan Phillips was an old circus man who lived in a canvas tent in an empty lot at 40 Cherry Street, just south of Roosevelt Street. For over a year, he had been living there with his wife, their grandson, a horse, and some dogs. Given the interesting history of 40 Cherry Street (and the street in general), I couldn’t resist learning more about this man and telling his story.

A scene on Cherry Street: Although he has short hair and looks well dressed in this illustration, according to an article in The New York Herald on March 5, 1894, Morgan L. Phillips was clean shaven with a grey goatee. His clothes were rough and shabby and covered with patches, and his hair was long and badly tangled.
A scene on Cherry Street: Although he has short hair and looks well dressed in this illustration, according to an article in The New York Herald on March 5, 1894, Morgan L. Phillips was clean shaven with a grey goatee. His clothes were rough and shabby and covered with patches, and his hair was long and badly tangled.

In June 1893, Morgan L. Phillips and his wife, Clarissa, pitched a tent in an empty lot at 40 Cherry Street, adjacent to the large Gotham Court tenement complex. Here they lived for about eight months with their grandson, a horse, and a few dogs. On February 14, 1894, Morgan Phillips told his life story to a newspaper reporter and Policeman O’Connor of the Fourth Precinct police station on Oak Street.

In 1870, the Fourth Precinct station house, which was one of the oldest in New York City, was replaced by a new station house at 9–11 Oak Street, near Roosevelt Street and Cherry Street. The complex included a four-story main building and two-story rear building for housing prisoners and vagrants. The station house, seen standing alone around 1949, was among the last structures to be demolished when the neighborhood was demolished to make way for the Governor Alfred E. Smith Houses. (Museum of the City of New York Collections)
In 1870, the Fourth Precinct station house, which was one of the oldest in New York City, was replaced by a new station house at 9–11 Oak Street, near Roosevelt Street and Cherry Street. The complex included a four-story main building and two-story rear building for housing prisoners and vagrants. The station house, seen standing alone around 1949, was among the last structures to be demolished when the neighborhood was demolished to make way for the Governor Alfred E. Smith Houses. (Museum of the City of New York Collections)


Captain Morgan L. Phillips and the Erie Canal

Born in New York City around 1817, Morgan L. Phillips reportedly spent much of his young adulthood on the road. During the 1840s, he owned a fleet of Erie Canal packet boats and was captain of the Jesse Hawley. He was very successful in this business before the railroads took over, carrying as many as 100 passengers between Buffalo and Albany on a regular basis and charging $7 per trip.

“I could have been mayor of Buffalo if I’d wanted,” Morgan told a reporter for the New York World in June 1893.

jesse-hawley_HatchingCatNYC

I cannot confirm that Morgan Phillips was captain of a packet boat called the Jesse Hawley, but Hawley, a flour merchant from Canandaigua, New York, was the first to propose the construction of a canal from the Hudson River to Lake Erie. The Erie Canal, running 363 miles from Albany to Buffalo, opened in 1825. Hawley died in 1842, so it’s very possible that a canal boat was named in his honor. And it’s just as probable that Morgan Phillips was the captain of this boat.

After the railroads were completed, Morgan invested his earnings in a traveling circus, which is how he met his Canadian wife, Clarissa (a circus equestrian rider), and adapted to living in tents. During this time – the late 1840s and early 1850s—his brother supposedly made a fortune as a 49er in the California Gold Rush.

In 1852, give or take a year, Morgan settled back down in New York City and resumed working with horses. According to an article in the New York Herald in March 1894, Morgan once owned the New York Bazaar, a stable at 40 New Bowery (present-day St. James Place), from which he operated a livery business.

In the 1850s, Morgan Phillips reportedly owned a stable at 40 New Bowery called the New York Bazaar. The stable was replaced by the Howard Mission and Home for Little Wanderers in 1867 (the cornerstone was laid on May 15, 1867). The mission, a successor to the Fourth Ward Mission, cared for destitute children by providing clothing, food, and lessons in reading and singing. (New York Public Library Digital Collections)
In the 1850s, Morgan Phillips reportedly owned a stable at 40 New Bowery called the New York Bazaar. The stable was replaced by the Howard Mission and Home for Little Wanderers in 1867 (the cornerstone was laid on May 15, 1867). The mission, a successor to the Fourth Ward Mission, cared for destitute children by providing clothing, food, and lessons in reading and singing. (New York Public Library Digital Collections)

According to the 1855 Census, Morgan and Clarissa lived in an apartment on or near Canal Street with their one-year-old son, Albert. Morgan’s occupation was listed as “coachman.” Then in 1857, according to a news article about a hack driver who had assaulted Morgan Phillips, the family was living at 116 Mercer Street.

M.L. Phillips and the New York Olympic Circus

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In the 1860s, Morgan L. Phillips was manager of Tom King’s Olympic Circus. According to advertisements in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle in October 1863 and August 1867, the circus had afternoon and evening performances at the “Old Circus Lot” in Macomber Square at the corner of Fulton Avenue and DeKalb Avenue in Brooklyn. Equestrian acts, clowns, gymnasts, and a performing dog named Jeff were some of the highlights of the Olympic Circus.

FultonStreet_HatchingCatNYC

In the 1850s and 1860s, Macomber Square, at the junction of Fulton Street and DeKalb Avenue in Brooklyn, was the site of a circus lot and pavilion, where circus men like Dan Rice, Tom King, and Morgan Phillips would pitch their tents for a week or two as they made their way across America with their traveling circuses. Pictured here is John Vandergaw’s wagon and carriage business (22 DeKalb Avenue), on land that is now occupied by the old Dime Savings Bank, and the old Fleet Street Methodist Church, constructed in 1852-53.

In the 1870s and 1880s, Morgan returned to the livery business. According to the 1880 Census, he and his wife lived at 90 Doyers Street with their son Albert, his wife, Emma, and their two young sons, Albert and Freddy. Morgan listed his occupation as a “stableman” and Albert as “hack driver” (he probably worked for his father’s livery business). Morgan stored his old circus paraphernalia on the property and entertained the neighbors – who called him Buffalo Jack — with his two trick horses.

DoyerStreet_HatchingCatNYC

At some point during the 1880s, Morgan and Clarissa moved into an apartment at 11 Doyers Street in New York’s Chinatown, pictured here at the bend in the road (the Mandarin Garden). The lower two floors of this building are still standing and are today occupied by a hair salon and the Nom Wah Tea Parlor, the oldest dim sum parlor in New York City. The top two floors were demolished following a deadly fire that killed seven people at 11-17 Doyer Street in 1939.

The Gypsy of Cherry Street

In June 1893, Morgan Phillips got permission from former New York City Mayor Smith Ely (1887-1888) to occupy the fenced-in lot at 40 Cherry Street. (Smith Ely had purchased the lot in 1890.) There, he set up a half tent/half shanty with a separate stall for his horse and dogs. All around him were brick tenement buildings, like the massive Gotham Court.

 Gotham Court at 38 Cherry Street
Gotham Court at 38 Cherry Street


Morgan’s neighbors included everyone who lived on Cherry Hill in the Gotham Court tenement complex. This “model tenement” developed in 1850 by Quaker philanthropist Silas Wood comprised two rows of six, five-story tenements standing back to back and extending 234 feet back from Cherry Street. This photo of Gotham Court at 38 Cherry Street was taken by Richard Hoe Lawrence around 1885. (New York Public Library Digital Collections)

According to neighbors, every night around midnight Morgan would harness his horse to an old hack cab and drive to Union Square, where he worked as a cab man. He’d return in early morning and retire to the tent with his horse until noon. In the afternoon, he’d tinker in the lot, mending pushcarts and carriages or watching over the paraphernalia that he stored for other circus men and showmen.

Blind Man's Alley at 26 Cherry Street, 1890.
Blind Man’s Alley at 26 Cherry Street, 1890.

For many months, the neighborhood ruffians — like these pictured in Blind Man’s Alley at 26 Cherry Street in 1890 — taunted Morgan Phillips by throwing rocks at his tent and his dogs. The boys called him the Gypsy of Cherry Hill. The mothers were all afraid of him, and often accused him of kidnapping their children. Policeman O’Connor came to his rescue on several occasions, until it all came to a sudden end in the winter of 1894. 

Next: Part II, the Final Straw on Cherry Street

In Part II of this old New York tale, I’ll share the sad conclusion to this story and explore the fascinating history of 40 Cherry Street.