During World War I and World War II, hundreds of pirate cats from all over the world were left stranded on the Chelsea Piers in New York when the troopships and freighters they had stowed away on left the harbor without them. Even years after the wars ended, these refugee mascots still prowled the piers at night in search of food and shelter. The news media called them the “Chelsea Pirate Cats.”
During the post-war Christmas holidays, when there were few ships at port – and the few remaining crews were spending the holiday ashore – the pirate cats that lived in the sheds along the Hudson River (then called the North River) were hard-pressed to find a meal. At night, their howls of protest could be heard all along the waterfront.
Chelsea Piers served as a passenger ship terminal in the early 1900s for several passenger lines, including the White Star Line. In this 1911 photo, the RMS Olympic is arriving in New York. Today the piers are used by the Chelsea Piers Sports & Entertainment Complex.
In December 1922, Woo-ki, a one-eyed Chinese feline from Fuzhou (Foochow), was the leader of the pack. He had stowed away on the freighter Wei-hai-Wan and arrived in New York a few weeks earlier, and had quickly risen in power to Chief Pirate Cat.
Woo-ki would lead the stranded stowaway cats toward the Customs guards on duty, and encourage them to try to steal the men’s dinners.
On Christmas Eve that year, Woo-ki and his band of refugee cats zeroed in on veteran watchman Sam Meders. (Sam told a news reporter that he had to carry his dinner around all day to keep it away from the hungry felines.)
Apparently the band of pirate cats realized that a large Christmas feast was being prepared on the White Star Line’s Olympic, and they had no intention of being left out of the celebration. They apparently also knew a sucker when they saw one.
During World War I, the Olympic – painted in dazzle camouflage — served as a troopship with the capacity to transport up to 6,000 soldiers. Her impressive WWI service earned her the nickname Old Reliable.
Christmas on the RMS Olympic
On Christmas Day 1922, the Olympic was the only American ship docked at the Chelsea Piers whose crew did not go ashore to celebrate the holiday. She had just returned to New York a few days earlier from Southampton and Cherbourg; her masts were covered with ice and some glass ports on the “D” and “E” decks were broken by the heavy seas she had encountered en route.
On Christmas morning, though, her saloons were decorated with holly and evergreens in preparation for a holiday feast of turkey, plum pudding, and mince pie. The festivities began at 9:30 a.m. with 15 athletic competitions on the pier for the crew, including sack races, an egg and spoon race, and a tug of war between married and single men (the married men reportedly almost always won the tug of war.)
In 1911, the original crew of the RMS Olympic included Captain Edward John Smith and many other members of the crew who would later serve on the Titanic’s maiden voyage.
At 1 p.m. the men enjoyed their Christmas dinner, which was accompanied by beer for the crew and red and white wine for the officers and engineers. What these men probably didn’t realize, however, was that they were not the first ones to dine on the ship that day…
Like all cats I know – at least the two spoiled cats that live in my house – their constant pestering worked. According to Sam, their howling and begging whittled down his defenses, and by Christmas Day, the felines had prevailed.
Can you imagine the stray pirate cats making their way down the Grand Staircase of the Olympic on Christmas Day?
I can’t quite imagine how he was able to do this – and it’s actually very comical if you try to picture this – but at 8 a.m. Sam mustered up the four-legged pack and took them aboard the Olympic. Once on the ship, the crafty kitties were invited to partake in their very own feast fit for kings – or should I say pirates.
Two days following the Christmas dinner, the crew of the Olympic performed their annual Christmas concert in the White Star Line’s waiting room at Pier 61. I like to believe that a large number of pirate cats were in attendance, providing backup to the chorus.
The pirate cats took over Chelsea Piers, pictured here in 1910.
Modeled after the Arch of Titus in Rome, the Dewey Arch was carved in about six weeks by 28 renowned sculptors. The arch was topped by a quadriga sculpted by J.Q.A. Ward, with four seahorses pulling a ship. Lower down were portrait sculptures of such naval heroes as Commodore John Paul Jones, Commodore Matthew C. Perry, and Admiral David Glasgow Farragut. The arch and six double-trophy columns were lit by electric lights at night.
Prior to May 1898, 60-year old Commodore George Dewey was a little-known leader of the U.S. Navy’s Asiatic Fleet. All that changed during the Spanish-American War, when Dewey was wired from Washington to attack the Spanish navy in retaliation for Spain’s assail on the U.S.S. Maine in Havana Harbor. In honor of his success, New York erected the Victory Arch, better known as the Dewey Arch, across from Madison Square Park.
The Commodore directed his command vessel, the U.S.S. Olympia, to Manila Bay in the Philippines, where she was victorious over the rotting wood ships of the Spanish Armada. This stunning naval victory over Spain established the U.S. as a global military power, and elevated Commodore Dewey as the country’s greatest hero.
Once city leaders realized Dewey was coming to New York in September, plans were made for a magnificent two-day tribute that would include a grandiose parade on September 30, a fireworks display, and illumination of the harbor. It was also decided to erect a ceremonial arch and colonnade on Fifth Avenue at 24th Street to permanently honor the war hero. The city hired architect Charles R. Lamb, who, along with fellow members of the National Sculpture Society, designed the $26,000, 100-foot-tall Dewey Arch.
Commodore Dewey, together with New York Mayor Robert A. Van Wyck, led the grand parade in a horse-drawn carriage, a beautiful Victoria pulled by four sturdy bays. Forty-three other coaches, filled with political and naval dignitaries, followed, along with almost 35,000 military personnel.
Because there was very little time, however, the planners decided to first build a temporary arch out of staff, which was made of plaster and wood shavings. Later, the arch would be reproduced in white marble and made permanent. (This was how the Washington Square Arch had been constructed just a few years earlier.)
A Home for Olympia and Her Kittens
So what does all this historic stuff have to do with a cat and her kittens? The temporary construction of the Dewey Arch is the key to this Christmas cat tale.
Following the celebrations in September 1899, the arch began to quickly deteriorate. Passing vehicles and carriage wheels made several large holes in the base of the double trophy-columns, and souvenir seekers had also begun chipping off pieces of the arch (bits sold for 15 cents each). But that was just fine for one large grey cat that roamed the streets near Madison Square — a hole in the corner of one of the columns would be the perfect place to give birth to her kittens.
According to the national story first told in The New York Herald, two weeks before Christmas the stray feline took refuge in the hole. The following morning, the cabmen who were stationed across from the Fifth Avenue Hotel heard mewing sounds coming from within. When they investigated, they found the mother cat – whom they named Olympia – nursing four newborn kittens.
The kittens were adopted by the cabmen, who named them Dewey, George, Manila, and Cavite. (Other news articles said Olympia gave birth to seven kittens, who were taken in by Brigadier General Charles E. Furlong, a long-time resident at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. He reportedly cared for them and named them Dewey, Schley, Sampson, Hobson, Sigsbee, Gridley, and Bill Anthony.)
Following the cabmen’s discovery, a nearby shopkeeper provided a bed of excelsior shavings for the feline family’s home and the hotel supplied some food (including raw beef and maybe even some Lobster a la Newberg). The cabmen also donated tidbits from their lunches to help nourish the mother cat.
During the two weeks leading to Christmas, the cabmen and stalwart policemen guarded over the new cat family, protecting them from the newsboys and thousands of other curious strangers who tried to either grab or taunt them. The men also kept a constant lookout for Christmas shoppers who attempted to kidnap the kittens. Olympia often left the niche to stroll down Fifth Avenue on her own, although on one of her ventures she carried a kitten in her mouth and presented it to one of the cabmen.
On Christmas Day, the cabmen and policemen presented Olympia with a special holiday dinner. The New York Times called her “the happiest cat in New York this Christmas,” noting her meal would comprise several courses of “the most luxurious viands to be secured on Fifth Avenue.” The kittens also received a present (although I’m not sure they were too thrilled by this): The cabmen said that once they were old enough, they would all go for a ride in an automobile.
This doctored view of the Dewey Arch shows where it was positioned in relation to present-day buildings (c. 1909 Fifth Avenue Building and c. 1915 10 Madison Square West)
One of the strangers who took a keen interest in the kittens was a street vendor called Hustling Pete, who made a living selling phony pieces of the arch he made from plaster. Pete came up with a scam to sell phony kittens. He ordered his six children to scour the city streets as far up to Harlem for stray kittens. The children reportedly found hundreds of kittens for their father, who put them in baskets and presented them to the crowds as the original kittens born in the Dewey Arch.
Pete sold about 500 kittens for $1 or more (kittens named Dewy were sold for $2). If true, Pete made a fortune—and 500 stray kittens were lucky to find homes with families who could afford to pay such a high price for a street cat.
The Demise of the Dewey Arch
There are no reports on how long Olympia and her kittens called the Arch their home, but the structure was also apparently home to homeless men in the warmer months. On July 15, 1900, the Times reported many gaping holes in the columns were occupied by transient men (the police called it the Dewey Arch Hotel). In August 1900, The New York Evening Post called the deteriorating arch an “eyesore and disgrace” that was “becoming a public danger.”
William Conant Church (1836 – 1917) served in the Civil War and was a life member and director of the New York Zoological Society. In 1900, he was in charge of a citizen’s Arch Perpetuation Committee that fought to make the Dewey Arch a permanent structure.
An attempt to raise money to have the arch rebuilt with more durable materials failed, and Colonel William Conant Church announced that all donations would be returned. At a meeting of the Municipal Assembly in November 1900, a resolution was passed unanimously by both houses authorizing Commissioner James P. Keating of the Department of Streets and Highways to spend the money appropriated for repairing the structure to tear it down.
On November 15, Mayor Robert A. Van Wyck signed an ordinance directing the demolition of the arch; at 8 p.m. that same day, the crew — a dozen men with pickaxes, crowbars, and shovels — appeared at Madison Square and started to remove the columns.
One of the four Battle Groups that were temporarily preserved from the Dewey Arch. The groups included Call to Arms, Battle, Return of the Victors, and Peace.
A few days after the demolition work had begun, the committee received an offer for the arch from Bradford Lee Gilbert, architect for the South Carolina Inter-State and West Indian Exposition. Although a crowd of boys had punched holes in the top (making it look like “a colossal pepper box”), Gilbert took what was the left of the arch back to Charleston.
As the photo shows, Gilbert placed two of the arch’s battle group sculptures on either side of the Art Palace at the South Carolina Inter-State and West Indian Exposition. Photo: George Grantham Bain News Service
In June 1902, the exposition closed and the Art Palace, along with the remains of the arch, was demolished. (Although who knows, there may also be some pieces of the arch among old keepsake boxes in closets or attics.)
I once wrote about the very first public tree lighting ceremony that took place on Christmas Eve in 1912. What I neglected to mention in that story was that Madison Square Park was covered in snow, thanks to a large storm on Christmas Eve that dumped almost a foot of snow on New York City.
The Christmas storm created a winter wonderland — even the brokers on Wall Street had fun engaging in a snowball fight on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange — but it wrecked havoc on last-minute holiday shoppers and on “Big Bill” William H. Edwards, the city’s deputy street cleaning commissioner. The blinding snowstorm also caused several reported shipwrecks along the coast of New Jersey and New York, including the wreck of the two-masted schooner Copy at Eatons Neck in the Long Island Sound.
On Christmas Eve 1912, Captain Henry E. Ketcham was on guard at the Eatons Neck Life-Saving Station, which was located at the eastern entrance to the Huntington Bay. Henry, a native of Northport, had more than 25 years of experience working at the station, including almost 20 years as the second keeper in the station’s history. He was just the right man to be in charge during a blustery snowstorm.
Sometime that day, while merry-makers were enjoying the tree lighting festivities in Madison Square, the 125-ton schooner Copy was making its way from Greenport, Long Island, to New York City. Blinded in the Christmas Eve storm, the crew sailed their ship too close to shore, running it aground.
Luckily for Captain Clifford Bennett, his three-man crew, and their polydactyl cat named Tim, the ship ran aground close to the U.S. Life-Saving Station #38 on Eatons Neck.
Copy, the two-masted schooner like the one shown here, was making its way from Long Island to New York City when it went aground on Christmas Eve.
Captain Ketcham (great name for a rescuer!) and his crew of surfmen made several attempts to launch their surfboats, but to no avail. Even firing a line out to the vessel using a Lyle gun proved difficult, as the men could not see the ship through the blizzard.
But Ketcham was not about to give up the rescue attempt, especially on the day before Christmas.
As the surfmen frantically tried to launch the breeches buoy, the captain ran around the ship collecting all of his valuables. The last valuable he remembered to collect was Tim, the crew’s long-time mascot.
He found the orange and white tabby up on the deck, shivering in the cold. Captain Bennett took Tim under his arm, and together they were pulled ashore by the breeches buoy.
Captain Bennet and six-toed Tim were rescued by surfmen using a breeches buoy.
Tim Goes to Madison Square Garden
Ten days after his rescue at sea, Tim was invited to the be the guest of honor at the championship cat show of the Atlantic Cat Club, which was held in the Italian café at Madison Square Garden. The 11th annual cat show was, as usual, presented in conjunction with the annual Poultry Show, which took place in the Garden arena (I wonder if the chickens appreciated being on display at the same time as the pedigree cats?)
With no fancy name or impressive pedigree, Tim had his own place of honor away from the contestants. Nonetheless, he was the star attraction at the show, especially since he was a cat with not only just eight lives left to live, but also one extra toe on each paw.
According to Captain Bennett, Tim was not at the show to win any awards – prizes that year were for cats with names like Don O’ Dreams, Prima Donna, and Woodrege Sweet William. No, Tim was there to bask in the spotlight and to learn how aristocratic felines behave themselves.
Hemingway Cats
The author of The Old Man and the Sea and A Farewell to Arms and so many other was also cat lover, particularly of polydactyl felines.
Normal cats have 18 toes, with five toes on each front paw and four toes on each hind paw; polydactyl cats like Tim may have as many as eight digits on their front and/or hind paws.
Tim had six toes on his front paws and five toes on his hind paws.
Cats with this genetically inherited trait are most commonly found along the East Coast of the United States and Canada and in South West England and Wales.
The Ernest Hemingway Home and Museum in Key West, Florida, is home to approximately 50 polydactyl (six-toed) cats. It is said that the author received a white six-toed cat named Snowball as a gift from a ship’s captain in the 1930s, and most if not all of the cats who live on the museum grounds are descendants of that original cat.
Who knows, maybe Snowball was a descendent of Tim!
USLSS Station #38, Eatons Neck
Although some believe the Eatons Neck Life-Saving Station may have been built in 1849, other sources say the station was first opened on November 15, 1876.
Eatons Neck Life-Saving Station, circa 1880s. The crew pictured here may include Darius Ruland, Henry Ketcham, Douglas Lee, Jarvis Fix, James Jones, Jesse Ketcham, and William Johnson.
The first known keeper at Eatons Neck was Darius Ruland, who was appointed at the age of 49 on September 14, 1876. During summer months, Ruland worked alone in the station. But during the winters, he had a crew that included Henry Ketcham, Douglas Lee, Jarvis Fix, James Jones, Jesse Ketcham, and William Johnson. According to Huntington Town Historian Roy Lott, Ruland and his crew assisted at nine wrecks and saved 27 lives during their tenure.
After leaving in 1893 because he was no longer physically qualified for the job, Ruland was replaced by Henry Ketcham, who was appointed on November 14, 1893. Ketchum served until retiring with thirty years of service on August 10, 1915. The station went inactive for several years in the 1920s, although it was listed as an active station at the beginning of World War II.
The Eatons Neck station is still in operation today as Coast Guard Station #94. Pictured here in 2006 is the station’s mascot “Nate”, named after Coast Guardsman Petty Officer Nathan Bruckenthal, who was killed while guarding an oil terminal off the coast of Iraq.
If you enjoyed this story, you may also want to read about Bill, the life-saving horse of Fire Island, which has more details about the history of the U.S. Life-Saving Services.
These horses are hauling a load of Christmas Trees to New York City sometime between 1910 and 1915. Photo: Library of Congress.
I previously wrote about four reindeer on display at the iconic Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, which made its debut in 1931. Although the Rockefeller Center tree in New York always gets all of the media’s attention, the “Tree of Light” at Madison Square Park was in fact America’s first community Christmas tree. This tree made its first appearance at a ceremony in 1912, thus sparking the “Tree of Light” movement throughout the nation.
CHRIST CHILD’S CHRISTMAS TREE Madison Square, 1912
Above the bustle and wear and tear Of a city’s life in a busy square. The Christmas Tree stands with its open hands, A symbol of love for all to share; And great and small respond to the call Of the chimes in the belfry, till one and all Forsake the shop and the gilded home, For the voice of the Christ Child calling, “Come – O come – Lo, My festival is free. And Love is the Host at my Christmas Tree!”
They gather – the rich and poor are one; Parent and Child and the Stranger lone; For the heart of the City goes out to-night In a chorus of Music – a flood of Light; And the Christ Child Spirit, divinely fair, That illuminated the manger cold and bare, Is born again in the City Square.
The “Tree of Light” celebration was the brainchild of 49-year-old Emilie D. Lee Herreshoff, wife of Dr. John Brown Francis Herreshoff. Mrs. Herreshoff was apparently inspired by a progressive push by social activists to care for the city’s poor and by the older customs of European cities. She had originally proposed the plan to then Mayor William Jay Gaynor; her initial request was denied, but was later granted in 1912.
John Brown Francis Herreshoff, (1850 -1932) was Vice President of the Nicholas Copper Company at 25 Broad Street. He and his wife Emilie resided in separate homes on West End Avenue (#375 and #620) for 10 years before ending their marriage in a nasty public divorce in 1918.
The first public Christmas tree was a present from the Adirondack Club, whose members selected a tree that was 60 feet high and 20 feet wide with an 18-inch trunk. The New York Times called it “the finest tree of their great park.” The cost for transporting the tree from the Adirondacks to the city was the gift of an anonymous railroad man.
On December 19, 1912, The New York Times reported on all the festivities that were planned to commemorate the city’s first public Christmas tree. The article also summed up the benefactors’ intentions for this inaugural celebration:
“Those who are helping [Mrs. Herreshoff] hope that the public Christmas tree may become a National feature, to be found in every town and village, a place where all may gather, rich or poor, on Christmas Eve, listen to the Christmas music, and feel that it is their tree, their Christmas, and that the spirit of peace and good-will encircles them, no matter how friendless they may be.”
The very first public Christmas tree at Madison Square Park arrived by a team of four horses on December 20, 1912.
Apparently, there was much confusion about the location of the tree, and some people did not believe that the tree lighting ceremony would be free. Many residents thought the tree was going to be placed indoors at Madison Square Garden. Event organizers received numerous requests for tickets to see the tree, and urged the newspapers to stress that the event was outdoors and free. The Times responded on December 21 by emphatically stating the tree was for everyone, rich and poor, and “that no one has more right to it than another.”
On December 20, a team of four horses pulling a steel girder truck delivered the giant tree to Madison Square Park. The tree was placed on a block of cement to hold it in place and adorned with a 10-inch Star of Bethlehem and 1,200 8-candlepower lamps in various colors strung on 6,000 feet of wire. The Edison Company, which donated the electric lights and power, also wired the bandstand for light and heat.
The tree was placed on cement block to hold it in place.
At 5 p.m. on Christmas Eve, church bells throughout five boroughs began chiming – some for 20 minutes – to announce the start of the tree lighting ceremony. More than 20,000 people responded to the call. The tree lights were turned on with Mrs. Herreshoff’s flick of the switch at 5:40 p.m.
The Madison Square Christmas tree, about 1912. “The Almighty put snow on the tree to make it prosper,” an elderly woman on crutches told The New York Times. Photo: MetLife Archives.
The MacDowell Schola Cantorum, assisted by the Gwent Male Glee Singers of Wales, sang the first carol under the leadership of Kurt Schindler. Then Henry Meyn, accompanied by the piano, sang “The Manger Cradle” by Neidlinger in his rich baritone voice.
Miss Eva Emmet Wycoff, a soprano, sang “O Holy Night” – the crowd requested an encore and sang along with her on the second round. The evening ended with a band playing Christmas songs until midnight.
1918: Pigeons, Camp Fire Girls, and the Salvation Army Band
On Christmas Eve 1918, only a month after World War I ended, more than 15,000 spectators, including Red Cross nurses, representatives of the seven different war work organizations, and many wounded soldiers and sailors, attended the Tree of Light ceremonies.
The Gwent Male Glee Singers performed at the first Madison Square Park tree lighting in 1912. Photo: Aimee Hibberd, The Gwent Male Glee Singers
That year, the event began with a parade from the New York Public Library at 42nd Street and 5th Avenue. The parade featured servicemen playing musical instruments donated by New York portrait artist and socialite Orlando Rouland.
Chief Oskenonton (1888-1955), was born in Chaghnawaga, Quebec, Canada. He was the son and grandson of the great chiefs from the Mohawk tribe of the Bear Clan. He was very well-known in New York for his operatic voice.
The marchers were led by a Santa Claus brass band under the direction of the Salvation Army. They were all met by 300 Boy Scouts and 100 Camp Fire Girls, who escorted them to the tree.
In 1918, the 70-foot tree glowed with 2,000 colored lights and a gold star at top. One of the highlights that year was an appearance by Chief Oskenonton in his magnificent native attire.
Oskenonton released 25 homing pigeons that had been in service with the pigeoneers of the United States Signal Corps in France. Thousands of people cheered as the birds circled around the tree and headed back home to Governor’s Island.
The Madison Square Park trees are smaller now, but the “Tree of Light” festivities still take place every year (with some help from corporate sponsorship). Photo: Madison Square Park Conservancy.
A Brief History of Madison Square Park
The area where Madison Square is now — between 23rd and 26th Streets, from Fifth to Madison Avenues – was once a swampy hunting ground. It first came into use as a public space in 1686, and was used as a Potter’s Field in the 1700s. In the 1830s it was the site of a farmhouse, which later became a roadhouse named Madison Cottage under the direction of William “Corporal” Thompson.
“Madison Cottage,” also known as “Corporal Thompson’s Roadhouse,” at Fifth Avenue and 23rd Street, 1852.
Madison Cottage was razed in 1853 to make room for Franconi’s Roman Hippodrome and then the Fifth Avenue Hotel (which was initially known as “Eno’s Folly” because it was so far removed from the hotel district). On May 10, 1847, the 7-acre Madison Square Park opened to the public. The rest is history.
Since reindeer can’t fly, a crate was used to hoist four reindeer into the skating rink at Rockefeller Center. Democrat and Chronicle, December 13, 1941
The following reindeer story took place on December 12, 1941, just 10 years after the Christmas tree made its unofficial debut at Rockefeller Center — and exactly five days after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.
This year would be the last that the Christmas tree was illuminated during World War II. From 1942 to 1944, all of the city’s outdoor trees had to stay dark after sunset under wartime blackout restrictions.
In 1941, the 83-foot tree featured 800 large plastic globe-like bulbs in pastel shades of blue and red. The windows in the buildings surrounding the lower plaza were also decorated with candles, although these were not lit because of the war (it was easy to flip one switch to turn off the tree lights in a war emergency, but not so easy to blow out hundreds of candles).
The first tree at Rockefeller Center made its debut during the Great Depression on Christmas Eve, 1931. The 20-foot balsam was erected by construction workers on the muddy construction site, and was a symbol of hope. The men proudly decorated the tree with strings of cranberries, garlands of paper, and tin cans, and then waited in line to receive their paycheck from the clerk.
Despite the reduced illumination, Acting Mayor A. Newbold Morris said there would be “no blackout of Christmas cheer in New York.” To that end, holiday festivities designed to boost everyone’s spirits included two daily Christmas carol performances beneath the tree, seven organ concerts a day, two after-work Christmas concerts performed by the 150+ members of the Rockefeller Center Choristers, four live reindeer from the New York Zoological Society, three French hens, two turtle doves…
(Sorry, no hens or doves, and certainly no partridge in a pear tree.)
The reindeer arrived at Rockefeller Center via truck and were then lowered down onto the skating rink by a giant crane. Universal Newsreel
The reindeer – three does and one buck — were raised in Lake Placid, New York, and brought to the city by the New York Zoological Society. Much to the children’s disappointment, the four reindeer (or what The New York Times referred to as “half of Santa’s motor power”) did not arrive with Santa.
And instead of flying by magic, they arrived at Rockefeller Center via truck and were then lowered down onto the skating rink by a giant crane.
After their humiliating entrance to the lower-level plaza, the dark gray reindeer (actually woodland caribou) were placed in two rustic enclosures, which were placed on either side of the giant bronze Prometheus sculpture.
Each pen was 18 x 30 feet with tan-bark floors, peat moss carpeting, and evergreen lean-tos. A sign read: Please Don’t Feed Our Reindeer. Santa Claus Wouldn’t Like It.
The reindeer is lowered into the pen.
For the next three weeks, the reindeer munched on their fodder and calmly took in the sights as the Choristers sang “White Christmas,” the organists played “Silent Night,” and the skaters waltzed across the ice.
A temporary skating rink replaced the Sunken Plaza at Rockefeller Center in 1936 in an effort to attract more people to the plaza. The rink was so successful, it became a permanent fixture. The two-legged creatures shown skating in this 1941 photo no doubt kept the reindeer entertained.
On January 2, 1943, the reindeer were taken to the Bronx Zoo, where they would spend the rest of their days in a special reindeer range east of the Primate House. They would be the first live reindeer at the zoo since 1907 (four reindeer were displayed at the Bronx Zoo from 1901 to 1907).
More modern reindeer (caribou) graze at the Bronx Zoo in this December 2005 photo.
In April 1942, the first baby reindeer was born at the Bronx Zoo. The 18-inch-tall male reindeer was named Cupid.
If you enjoyed this tale, you may enjoy reading about the sea lions and penguins that made their debut at Rockefeller Center in July 1941.
