Tag Archives: 1800s

Dollar Princesses, or how the American heiress saved Downton Abbey and other estates like it

Posted on March 26, 2013 by | 5 Comments

Perhaps it goes without saying that among the Collections crew here at the Museum there are a number of huge fans of the Masterpiece Classic series Downton Abbey.   In the weeks since season three drew to a close, we’ve been attempting to placate our sense of loss over the absence of the Crawleys from our Sunday nights by hypothesizing about various plot lines for the rumored Downton prequel.   Julian Fellowes, creator of Downton, has spoken to the press about what he wants to do next: a series for American network television called The Gilded Age, set in 1880′s New York City.  One of the main storylines of the new series would revolve around the meeting of Lord Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham, and the future Countess of Grantham, the American Cora Levinson.  As referred to several times throughout multiple episodes, Downton Abbey would have been lost if it weren’t for Cora’s inheritance.  In exchange, Cora obtained a royal title.

Reception of the Prince of Wales, 1860, in the Society Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 34.241.8.

Reception of the Prince of Wales, 1860, in the Society Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 34.241.8.

While the marriage of Robert and Cora may sound calculating, crass, and even downright cold to us today, it is steeped in historical fact.   The growth of United States industrialism following the Civil War created a whole new set of exceedingly wealthy American families.  Meanwhile, the British aristocracy was faced with centuries-old, crumbling estates, and minimal funds to maintain their properties.  Edward, Prince of Wales, made his celebrated visit to the United States in 1860, and New York’s wealthiest families sponsored and hosted numerous events such as the dinner listed in the menu above, in his honor.  These events founded relationships between the Prince and wealthy New Yorkers that continued to develop over the ensuing decades.

By the late 19th century, the practice of seeking noble matches for American heiresses  was commonplace enough that the term “Dollar Princess” was coined to describe these young women.  One of the most well-known matches was that of Consuelo Vanderbilt to Charles Spencer-Churchill, the 9th Duke of Marlborough.

Invitation to the marriage of Consuelo Vanderbilt to the Duke of Marlborogh, 1895, in the Society Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 36.177.116.

Invitation to the marriage of Consuelo Vanderbilt to the Duke of Marlborough, 1895, in the Society Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 36.177.116.

The marriage was orchestrated by Alva Vanderbilt, a prominent socialite of the Gilded Age, who sought to assure the social position of the Vanderbilt family through the union.   Hundreds of police were called out to restrain curious onlookers the day of the wedding.  The image below briefly catches the bride as she climbs into her carriage.  Click here to see more photos of the event.

Byron Company. Weddings, Vanderbilt-Marlborough, 1895. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.16376.

Byron Company. Weddings, Vanderbilt-Marlborough, 1895. Museum of the City of New York. 93.1.1.16376.

Sadly, unlike Lord and Lady Grantham, who take every opportunity to remind us that they did “grow to love each other,” while Consuelo gained a royal title, and the Duke was said to have obtained $2.5 million in railroad stock as the marriage settlement (roughly $68 million today), the 9th Duke and Duchess of Marlborough were reputed to have a rather unhappy marriage.   The couple separated in 1906,  divorced in 1921 (an event referred to in the season three finale of Downton), and in 1926 the marriage was annulled.

Invitation to the marriage of Cornelia Bradley-Martin tot he Earl of Craven, 1893, in the Society Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 33.213.3

Invitation to the marriage of Cornelia Bradley-Martin tot he Earl of Craven, 1893, in the Society Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 33.213.3

The Museum also holds an invitation to the marriage of Cornelia Martin, or Cornelia Bradley-Martin, as her mother preferred to refer to the family’s last name, to the 4th Earl of Craven, in 1893.   The Bradley-Martins, equally socially mobile as the Vanderbilts, may be best known for the lavish Bradley-Martin Ball held at the Waldorf Astoria in 1897.  According to the World, which reported on the event, of the 40 men present, less than half a dozen were not millionaires.  The series of renovations at Coombe Abbey, the ancestral home of the Earl of Craven, begun the year of his marriage to Cornelia, suggests that without the influx of American money, Coombe Abbey, like Downton Abbey, would have been lost.

So as we wonder what comes next, or in this case, what came before, for the Crawleys and the Granthams, stay tuned for more highlights from our collections as we prepare for this fall’s exhibition on the Gilded Age in New York.  Now I think I hear the dressing gong – time to pick out a gown for dinner!

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The Great Crystal Palace Fire of 1858

Posted on December 4, 2012 by | Leave a comment

The New York Crystal Palace was a cast-iron and steel structure completed in 1853  on the site of current day Bryant Park, located between 42nd and 40th streets to the north and south, the Croton Distributing Reservoir (current location of the Stephen A. Schwarzman  Building of the New York Public Library) to the east, and Sixth Avenue to the west.  The structure, designed by architects Georg J. B. Carstensen and Charles Gildermeister in the shape of a Greek cross, featured a dome at its center and was reputed to be fireproof.

Print issued by John Bachmann. Birds Eye View of the New York Crystal Palace and Environs. John Bachmann, 1853. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.2387

Program for the Inauguration of the Crystal Palace, 1853, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.3357.

The Crystal Palace was built to house what is often thought of as the first United States world’s fair — known as the “Exhibition of Industry of All Nations” –  which opened to the public  on July 14, 1853.  The building and the exhibition were inspired by similar events held in London in 1851 and Dublin in 1852, featuring agricultural products and industrial innovations.  Elisha Otis first obtained widespread attention for his new invention, the elevator, at the fair in 1854.   The fair also celebrated the fine arts, showcasing a collection of sculpture and paintings.   While the fair included exhibitors from around the world, those from the United States were most numerous.

Initially, the fair was very popular and no visit to New York could be complete without a visit to the Crystal Palace.  Attendees purchased souvenirs that included canes, clothing, ash trays, medals, spoons, thimbles, and objects such as the plaque pictured below.

Souvenir plaque of the Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations, New York, 1853-1854, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 43.118.14.

However, by the latter part of its first year, the Crystal Palace exposition began to suffer from declining attendance.   Theodore Sedgwick, the first president of the Crystal Palace Association, resigned and was replaced with the grand entertainer Phineas T. Barnum.  When the exhibition finally closed on November 1, 1854, despite the change in leadership and paid attendance exceeding 0ne million, the sponsors of the fair were left with $300,000 in debt.  When the Crystal Palace reopened, it was leased as a space for special events and continued to host the Fair of the American Institute, previously held at Niblo’s Garden, for the next few years.

Judge’s ticket during the 29th Annual Fair of the American Institute at the Crystal Palace, 1857, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 36.409.58.

Attendance to events at the Crystal Palace continued to dwindle and by 1856, according to The New York Times, it was considered a “piece of dead property.”  Perhaps the low attendance was considered a blessing when, on October 5, 1858, the Crystal Palace caught fire while hosting the American Institute Fair.  A letter in the Museum’s collection from Franklin Harvey Biglow to his sister Elizabeth Biglow describes being present at the Crystal Palace on the day of the fire, and how the entire structure collapsed in “not more than ten minutes from the time the alarm was given.”   Biglow was likely an exhibitor at the 30th Annual American Institute Fair, as suggested in his statement in the letter: “Very little of the immense value in goods & merchandise was saved.  My cases and contents went with the rest, my actual loss will not vary much from $900 dollars”–the equivalent of $23,050 in 2012.  Click here to view the full letter.  The total losses from the fire were estimated at approximately $500,000 (the equivalent of $12,802,150 today ), including the value of the building, exhibits, and statuary still installed from the time of the “Exhibition of Industry of All Nations.”  Nearly 2,000 people were inside when the fire broke out, but no one was injured.  The Museum also holds a chunk of glass salvaged from the burnt structure (accession number 36.407) in the collection.

Photographer unknown. Crystal Palace Interior, ca. 1855. Photo Archives. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.5044.

Click here to view more images of the Crystal Palace from the Museum’s collection.

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The Beecher-Tilton Affair

Posted on October 23, 2012 by | Leave a comment

What do women’s rights, religion, and sex all have in common?  The Beecher – Tilton Affair.

Photographer unknown.Henry Ward Beecher, ca. 1860. Museum of the City of New York. 33.153.1

Henry Ward Beecher was the first minister of the Plymouth Church, in Brooklyn, appointed in 1847.   Raised as one of thirteen children (including half-siblings) in a strict Presbyterian household in Litchfield, Connecticut, Beecher was somewhat reticent and bashful as a child,  but grew to be a charismatic  preacher.  Beecher was popular amongst his congregation, and according to some sources, especially so with young, attractive women.   Rather than preaching the harsh judgment of God, as his father had, Beecher spoke of the loving presence of God.  Beecher was known for taking stands against slavery and anti-Semitism; and championing women’s suffrage, temperance, and education.

Illustration from Harper’s Weekly. “Get Thee Behind Me, (Mrs.) Satan!” Thomas Nast (1840-1902), 1872. Museum of the City of New York. 99.124.22.

Despite Beecher’s belief in certain equal rights for women, such as the right to vote, Beecher was not in favor of complete equality for women.  He spoke out against Victoria Clafin Woodhull’s concept of “free-love,” or in other words, the right of women to marry, divorce, and bear children without the interference of the government, same as a man.  Woodhull and her sister Tennessee were both advocates of women’s rights, and an excerpt from One Moral Standard for All: Extracts from the lives of Victoria Clafin Woodhull and Tennessee Clafin, states “if a male debauchee is allowed to circulate in respectable society and marry women with unsoiled robes, then the female debauchee should be allowed the same privileges and be treated in the same manner.  This is justice – not mercy, not charity!” (Museum of the City of New York.  F2011.16.7).

Woodhull accused Beecher of hypocrisy, claiming that he himself practiced the very sort of free-love principles he denounced to his congregation, and was in fact involved in an affair with a married woman, Elizabeth Tilton.   Elizabeth Tilton and her husband Theodore were both members of the Plymouth Church Congregation.   According to Richard Wightman Fox, author of Trials of Intimacy: Love and Loss in the Beecher-Tilton Scandal, Theodore Tilton was once one of Beecher’s most committed devotees.  The two had a deep personal relationship, as well as a professional relationship through their work on the editorial content of the national religious journal Independent.   Beecher even presided over the Tiltons’ marriage.

(left) Photographer unknown. Theodore Tilton, ca. 1870. Museum of the City of New York. F2012.58.1235. (right) Pendleton Photographers. Elizabeth Titlon, ca. 1870. Museum of the City of New York. F2012.58.1236.

 The Beecher-Tilton Affair was alleged to have taken place during the 1860s,  when, due to conflict in the relationship and Theodore’s extended absences related to his work, Elizabeth sought the companionship of Beecher.   In 1870, Elizabeth confessed to her husband that she had engaged in an adulterous relationship with Beecher.  The confession was soon well-known among certain influential members of Plymouth Church, and eventually reached the ears of Woodhull, who then made the confession public.  Beecher and Theodore badgered Elizabeth to retract her confession, then retract the retraction, respectively.  By 1873, Theodore Tilton was no longer editor of the Independent, and in fact the journal came down hard against Tilton and in support of Beecher.  Tilton was also excommunicated from the Plymouth Church congregation.

Despite much published evidence of the affair, Plymouth Church exonerated Beecher, leading Theodore Tilton to bring suit against him in 1874 for “criminal intimacy” with his wife.

Admission card to “Tilton vs. Beecher,” 1875, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 32.287.6.

The trial was opened in January of 1875, and captivated the nation.  The significance of the trial was not lost on Beecher, as evidenced in the letter below, which states “But this poor note may have an extrinsic interest as being written at the climax of this remarkable trial.”

Letter from Henry Ward Beecher to Mrs. Southwick, June 24, 1875, in the Letters Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.3373.

At the close of the trial in July of 1975, the jury deliberated for six days, but could not reach a verdict.   Following the trial, Plymouth Church exonerated Beecher once again.  Theodore Tilton moved to Paris following the trial, where he lived out the remainder of his life.  Elizabeth Tilton remained a member of the Plymouth congregation until she, yet again, re-confessed to having an affair with Beecher in 1878.  At that point, she was also excommunicated from Plymouth Church.  Beecher remained a popular figure, though he never received quite the level of adulation he was accustomed to before the trial.

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The Beach Pneumatic Transit Company – just a bunch of hot air?

Posted on September 18, 2012 by | 5 Comments

My alarm didn’t go off this morning, meaning I overslept and I did not have enough time to ride my bicycle into work as I often do, and instead would have to take the subway.  While the weather has recently been quite pleasant, people often ask me how I can bear to ride my bike on those summer days when temperatures climb into the 90′s, and my response is always to ask how they can stand to wait on subway platforms as immense waves of hot air roll down the tracks in the wake of the trains.   As I was reading on the way in, I came across a review for Taras Grescoe’s Straphangers, a new book about public transportation.  The review mentions the inclusion of “a subway prototype, from 1870, constructed inside a huge pneumatic tube” in New York.  In other words, an underground train whose motion was controlled entirely by forcing air through the tunnel.

“General Plan, showing the arrangement of the machinery, air-flute, tunnel, and the mode of operating the pneumatic passenger-car,” illustration from The Broadway Pneumatic Underground Railway, 1871, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 42.314.142.

Secret, forgotten, and out of commission subway tunnels and stations have always been intriguing to me, and I assume, (though perhaps incorrectly), for most New Yorkers.  Therefore, many of you may already know this is a reference to the pneumatic underground railway conceived by Alfred Ely Beach, in 1869, in response to the ever growing traffic and congestion on New York City streets, especially Broadway.  Beach’s underground railway ran just the length of one block under Broadway, between Warren to Murray Streets.

The rail line was built primarily as a demonstration of how such a system could work, and employed a 48-ton fan to “blow” the train down the tracks.  When the train reached the end of the line at Murray Street, the baffles on the fan were reversed, drawing the train car back toward Warren Street.

“Under Broadway – Interior of Passenger-Car,” illustration from The Broadway Pneumatic Underground Railway, 1871, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 42.314.142.

The entrance to the station was through the Devlin Stores, in what was later known as the Rogers, Peet & Co building.   The station and passenger car were both very elegant, with mirrors, fountains, and saloons for ladies and gentlemen in the station; and the car featured comfortable, upholstered seats for 22 people.  When the number of riders exceeded 22 people, a large platform car with a wooden sail at one end was used instead, where passengers sat upon comfortable settees, which accommodated up to 30 passengers.

Alfred C. Loonam. Beach Pneumatic Tunnel Under Broadway, ca. 1870. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.26.126.

Despite the popularity of Beach’s railway, selling 25-cent rides to over 400,000 people during its first year of operation, it remained little more than a novelty.  Beach fought Tammany Hall for over two years as he tried to pass a bill introduced to the New York State Legislature to extend the line all the way to Central Park.  The bill finally passed in 1873, only to face funding problems both from waning public interest, and the stock market crash that led to the Panic of 1873.  Eventually, Beach abandoned the project.  This blank stock certificate below is probably one of many that sat unused as financiers drifted away.

Stock Certificate for the Beach Pneumatic Transit Co, ca. 1873, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 42.314.114.

The tunnel was sealed, and after the Rogers, Peet, and Co. building was lost to fire in 1898, the Beach Pneumatic Railway was all but forgotten.  In 1912, workers excavating for a line of the Brooklyn-Manhattan Subway encountered the sealed tunnel; inside, Beach’s rail car sat on the tracks, nearly intact.

Unknown photographer. Excavation at Duane and Reade Streets off Broadway, 1978. Museum of the City of New York. 84.227.

This photo in the Museum’s collection showing an excavation site off Broadway between Duane and Reade streets claims to reveal a portion of the Beach Pneumatic tunnel.  Based on the location of the tunnel a full two blocks south of this site, and the upright walls, rather than the round walls necessary for constructing a tube shaped tunnel, I’m not convinced that this is part of the Beach tunnel.  This leads us to the question, of course – what is it then?  Just another piece of the secret, lost, or forgotten infrastructure of New York City.

Click on this links to view more images of subway scenes and tunnels from the Museum’s collections. These images are all available in various sizes as museum quality archival prints. If you see something you want to hang on your wall, email us at reproductions@mcny.org

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WAY Back to School

Posted on September 4, 2012 by | 2 Comments

It’s that time of the year again.   As Labor Day rolls around, students of all ages and in all phases of their education start anticipating – and in some cases dreading – the first day of school.    In honor of “Back to School” sales, new notebooks and pencils, and  fresh haircuts around the world, I decided to share some objects from our “Schools” ephemera collection.

Public and private school systems have co-existed in New York City for centuries, and the Museum of the City of New York holds material culture objects from both.

A Good Girl, ca. 1875 – ca. 1890, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 46.302.7

A Good Boy, 1888, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 26.103A

Much of the material in the “Schools” collection consists of report cards, certificates of merit, and the type of material children happily bring home to their parents and the parent happily keeps for ages.  The awards at the right simply state that the student was “Good,” while some of the others get into specifics, such as stating the pupil has been “regular, punctual, and obedient” or has “correct deportment and diligent attention to his studies,” others were awareded for general “faithfulness and proficiency.”

Report Card of Alexander Hatos, 1913, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 96.32.5.

Report Card of Alexander Hatos, 1913, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 96.32.5.

While the collection lacks any sort of “Parent-Teacher letters” regarding students’ poor behavior, many of the report cards don’t tell quite the same story of good performance, such as that of Alexander Hatos, to the left.

Graduating Exercises of the De Witt Clinton High School, 1903. In the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 39.196.13

Other materials in the collection relate to specific events, such as the invitation to the Graduating Exercises of De Witt Clinton High School in 1903.  As mentioned in the invitation, the graduation ceremony was held at another school, as this was before the school moved to its new location on Tenth Avenue in 1906.

Eleventh Reunion of the the Ninth Class Association of Old Public School No. 14, 1874, In the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. F2012.18.238.

The collection also includes invitations to alumni events and dinners, such as that for the Ninth Class Association for Old Public School No. 14, to the left.

As I looked through the Private School materials, I came across an object I had not encountered with the Public School materials:  a receipt for education expenses.  This 1859 receipt from the Grammar School of Columbia College is for a charge of $10 for a 5-week course in Classics – the equivalent of $275 today.

Grammar School of Columbia College, 1857, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 33.134.6.

Admission card to Mechanics' Institute School, 1846, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. F2012.18.239

Admission card to Mechanics’ Institute School, 1846, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. F2012.18.239

In contrast, the collection holds an admission card to a seminar at the Tabernacle offered by the Mechanics’ Institute, the oldest privately owned endowed technical school in the country, offering free evening courses in trade-related vocations since 1820.

I also found materials for schools that provided instruction in more specialized pursuits, such as “Miss McCabe’s Academy of Dancing,” “The Dagmar Perkins Institute of Vocal Expression,” and “Disbrow’s W. H. Riding School.”   There are also various “Schools for Boys,” and “Academies for Young Ladies.”

No matter what the fall holds for you students (and teachers) out there, I hope it brings some consolation that New Yorkers for centuries before – and we hope for centuries to come – have faced the first day of school.  You might even be able to find an image of your school on the Collections Portal.

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Novelty, Simplicity, Buoyancy, and Pliancy

Posted on July 31, 2012 by | 3 Comments

Novelty, simplicity, buoyancy, and pliancy – aren’t these all features we seek in every aspect of our day-to-day life?  Helen Traphagen certainly felt these attributes were important when she set about designing and patenting the “Victoria Inflated Skirt” in 1857.  The sketch below is an attachment to a patent granted by the United States Secretary of the Interior for a “new and useful improvement in ‘Ladies Skirts’.”

Illustration of “Air Expanded Skirt,” excerpt from [Patent for an Improvement on Ladies Skirts], 1857, in the Documents Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 36.406.1

The sketch is titled “Air Expanded Skirt” and the garment is indeed just that.  When I first saw this sketch, I was half-hoping that the skirt was some sort of flotation device, created with the purpose of aiding the wearer if she were perhaps to trip and fall off a bridge or over the side of a ship into a body of water while wearing the numerous layers of clothing common for the time.  However, the description affixed to the patent states: “The nature of [the] invention consists of attaching to the body of a skirt, or petticoat, a series of air tight tubes, to be inflated with air, for the purpose of expanding the surface of the skirt, to give a ‘set’ to the dress similar to that affected by the use of hoops, cords, and other devices now in use.”

The description goes on to describe the various functions of the undergarment, matching the lettered components in the illustration above to their respective purpose.  “A” is the petticoat, or skirt, itself.  “B” components are a series of horizontal “air tight tubes, formed of rubber cloth, oiled silk, or other suitable material,” which are made in equal circumference to the skirt itself, with the purpose of bringing the skirt to its full measure of expansion.  “C” components consist of series of vertical tubes, made of the same material as “B” components, connecting the “B” components to one another, and allowing for the entire apparatus to be inflated at once.  “D” component is the valve by which the tubes are inflated, by mouth, and then stoppered so that the air is retained in the tubes, keeping the skirt expanded. The patent goes on to explain that air-inflated hoops are much more preferable to cords, hoops, canes, or steel springs, which can be “oppressive to the wearer” due to their rigidity and weight.  After viewing this short film, showing members of the Costumes and Textiles Department dressing a mannequin in a dress from later in the 19th century, I know I would have been looking for anything to help me feel less oppressed by my clothing.

Once Ms. Traphagen had obtained her patent, she began marketing her invention as the “Victoria Inflated Skirt.”   The handbill below explains the name of the product by mentioning that the British Queen, Victoria, was so pleased with the product, she included it in her own wardrobe.  The advertisement mentions the benefits of the inflated skirt to the comfort of the wearer, and goes on to explain it also “imparts that light and easy buoyancy so indispensable to the graceful effect of feminine apparel.”

The Victoria Inflated Skirt, ca. 1857, in the Documents Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 36.406.3.

These objects, however, left me wondering whether this petticoat was ever mass produced in the United States.  At the time of publishing the handbill, a business by the name of Pantecnicon of Fashions was taking pre-orders, but the skirt does not seem to have been readily available.  While a search of the New York Times archives mentions the invention of an “Umbrella Greatcoat” in 1854, which could be inflated by blowing air into it to expand the skirt of the coat out beyond the legs and feet, I did not see any mention of an inflated skirt.  I spoke with Phyllis Magidson, the Museum’s Costumes and Textiles Curator, and she had never laid eyes upon such a skirt, either.  She said that such an invention spoke to the popularity of full skirts during the time period, and also to the known problem of how cumbersome the supports for full skirts were.  While there were many attempts to minimize the amount of weight carried by women in support of their garments, the crinoline was by far the most broadly used.   Magidson also pointed out that this invention, which honors the Queen of England in its name,  predated the Prince of Wales visit in 1860, when the United States formally began to reestablish a connection with England for the first time since the Revolutionary War.

If you’d like to see images of the types of dresses this inflatable skirt would be supporting, be sure to check out some of Charles Frederick Worth’s earlier designs, available through this online exhibition.

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The Prospect Park Concert Grove

Posted on June 5, 2012 by | 3 Comments

As mentioned in May 22nd’s post,  Saving the Interior of the Plaza Hotel, New York City isn’t known just for its landmarked buildings, but also its scenic historical sites, as well.  Brooklyn’s 585-acre Prospect Park is a hybrid of built structures, planned  landscapes, and natural areas left relatively unchanged.  The Park features wooded and paved trails, open lawns, a lake and streams, Brooklyn’s only forest, rolling hills, and ball fields, among other recreational and educational facilities.

Green-Wood Cemetery Visitor’s Pass, 1850, in the Ephemera Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 50.41.149

Prior to establishing Prospect Park, Brooklynites visited Green-Wood Cemetery to find a little outdoor recreational space. The inappropriateness of using a cemetery for leisure activities soon became apparent, as evidenced by the rules listed on this pass for visiting Green-Wood, to the right.

James Stranahan, a business and civic leader, was an early advocate of establishing a park in Brooklyn.  With significant real estate interests in Brooklyn, he hoped a park would help lure residents to the city and turn Brooklyn into the next great metropolis. He was a driving force behind the new park, serving as its first President of the Prospect Park Commission and selecting the design by Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux, the landscape architects responsible for Manhattan’s Central Park, as well as many other parks throughout the city and country.

Design for Prospect Park in the City of Brooklyn, 1869, in the Map Collection. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.5.165.

Construction began on the park in 1866.

Photographer unknown. Original site of lake bed in Prospect Park, ca 1866. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.11.14264.

Brooklyn, Shelter House, Prospect Park, ca. 1908, in the Postcard Collection. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.34.1838.

Olmsted felt a park should provide a rural respite from the demands of city life. Among the many sites designed  for the park was the Concert Grove House and Pavilion (sometimes referred to as the Oriental Pavilion, and in this postcard to the left, as the Shelter House), built adjacent to the Lake so Park visitors could enjoy music in a pastoral setting.  One of the original features of the Concert Grove was Music Island, where live performances were held as visitors sat in an open air pavilion along the side of the lake.  In 1949, Parks Commissioner Robert Moses demolished the Concert Grove House, converted the Concert Pavilion to a snack bar, and constructed a skating ring in the area in between the lake and the Concert Grove.  Following a fire in 1979 which nearly destroyed the Concert Pavilion, it sat dormant until 1987, when it was restored to its original design.

Today, more work to restore this section of the Park to its original design is underway. Those of you who frequent Prospect Park may have noticed the construction going on along the southeastern side of the park.  The construction fencing around the site announces, “Lakeside is coming!”  The Lakeside project will restore the view of Music Island and recreate the promenade along the Lake, restoring the original view conceived by Olmsted and Vaux pictured below.

Brooklyn, N. Y., Lake in Prospect Park, ca. 1910, in the Postcard Collection. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.34.1972.

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Mott Haven Historic District

Posted on May 1, 2012 by | 5 Comments

The neighborhood of Mott Haven is located in the South Bronx, and is situated on a portion of land historically referred to as Morrisania, named after the powerful Morris family who held possession of it for centuries.    Richard and Lewis Morris, merchants from Barbados, purchased the land from Jonas Bronck in 1670.  Alexander Avenue, which extends through the heart of the Mott Haven Historic District, is reputed to have been named after Alexander Bathgate, the overseer of the Morris manor.

J. L. Mott Ironworks, 1897. in the Bills Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 97.199.1

In 1828, Jordan L. Mott, an inventor and industrialist, purchased land from the Morris family to establish a foundry for his ironworks on the Harlem River at 134th Street.   By the 1840s he’d purchased a second tract of land with the idea of building the village of Mott Haven.  By 1850, Mott had drawn up plans for the lower part of the Mott Haven Canal, which, once completed, allowed canal boats to travel as far north as 138th Street.

Map of Mott Haven Canal Docks and other Property of W. E. Rider and T. H. Conkling, ca. 1880, In the Map Collection. Museum of the City of New York, 29.100.3142A.

Mott was viewed with a certain amount of resentment, as his ironworks and canal were the forerunners of a wave of unwelcome industrialization through what had previously been pastoral countryside.   If you look along the canal in the map above, you’ll see the Mott Ironworks located where the canal meets the Harlem River, and several other industrial buildings as you move up the canal.  The neighborhood that forms the Mott Haven Historic District is a residential pocket in the greater industrial neighborhood of Mott Haven, contributing to it’s uniqueness.

Arthur Rothstein (1915-1985) and Frank Bauman, for LOOK Magazine. Changing New York: A building and a firehouse being demolished, 1957. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.7552-57.175

The Mott Haven Historic District is roughly situated along Alexander Avenue, bounded by East 137th Street to the south, and East 141st Street to the north.  This stretch has been known throughout its history both as “The Irish Fifth Avenue” and “Politician’s Row.” The Mott Haven Historical District was the first area in the Bronx to receive the designation from the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission, in 1969, shortly following the first historic district designation in 1965 of Brooklyn Heights.   Following the construction of major highways in the South Bronx in the 1950s, primarily the Cross-Bronx Expressway, the displacement of vast swathes of residents led to poverty and decay in the South Bronx.  Images such at the one above, picturing demolition along the Harlem River at the Park Avenue Bridge (just southwest of the Mott Haven Historic District), became commonplace by the 1960s.

Wurts Brothers. East 137th Street and Alexander Avenue. St. Jerome’s Roman Catholic Church, interior, ca. 1905. Museum of the City of New York. X2010.7.1.10472.

Scenes such as the one  captured by Rothstein and Bauman illustrate the timeliness of the historic district designation for Mott Haven.  Among some of the architectural landmarks in the Mott Haven Historic District is St. Jerome’s Roman Catholic Church, at the corner of Alexander Avenue and 138th Street, pictured to the right.   The district also boasts several examples of historic residential architecture from the early 1860s – 1920s, with interiors custom designed for their owners, and important civic structures, including: the Tercera Iglesia Bautista (Third Baptist Church) and its parsonage; the Mott Haven Branch of the Public Library, which was the first public library in the Bronx, and constructed with funds from Andrew Carnegie’s grant; and the 40th Precinct Police Station.  While the historical designation of Mott Haven was a step in the right direction for preserving the unique architectural landscape of the South Bronx, no other neighborhoods received the designation until Longwood did, in 1980.

Susan Lorkid Katz. SKIPPED, 1977. Museum of the City of New York. 84.203.101

In the decade in between,  decay continued to spread through the borough, and numerous building fires sprung up on a daily basis, leading to the coining of the phrase, “The Bronx is burning,” attributed to Howard Cosell as he commented on a fire in the neighborhood surrounding the stadium during a New York Yankees game.  The events of the 1970s brought national attention to the South Bronx, including the notice of President Jimmy Carter, and by the early 1980s parts of the borough were beginning to experience an urban renewal.  In addition to Longwood, three other neighborhoods received the historic designation in the 1980s, and four in the 1990s.

Click here to view more images of Mott Haven from the collection, including structures which no longer exist, such as the 138th Street Grand Central Railroad Station and the 3rd Avenue “L”.

During the month of May, we’ll be posting more entries on historic preservation in the city. The Museum of the City of New York is competing for a $250,000 grant from Partners in Preservation, a joint program sponsored by American Express and the National Trust for Historic Preservation. The winner is determined by popular vote, and individuals may vote once a day through May 21st. Please help us by going to http://www.helpmcny.com/ and voting today.

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Lincoln’s last play; or, the continuing fascination with “Our American Cousin”

Posted on April 17, 2012 by | Leave a comment

A distant cousin stands to inherit a large British estate on the brink of financial ruin. Sound familiar?  The main storyline from the phenomenally popular British series “Downton Abbey” shares its roots with the 19th century play, Our American Cousin, in which an American travels to England to survey his British cousins and his inheritance.  This past Sunday marked the 100-year anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic, the event that jump starts intrigues at Downton; and Saturday was the 147th anniversary of the most famous performance of Our American Cousin:  the night of President Abraham Lincoln’s assassination, April 14, 1865.

"Our American Cousin", August 11, 1860. Broadway Production Files, Museum of the City of New York. F2012.41.18

Written by English playwright Tom Taylor, Our American Cousin premiered in New York in the fall of 1858.  It starred Joseph Jefferson as the rough and rustic American Asa Trenchard who arrives at the British Trenchard estate as the last named heir.  Servants gossip, villains emerge from the shadows, and true love conquers in the end. A comedy with a melodramatic structure, much of the show’s humor was originally intended to spring from Asa’s crude and uncouth manners as an American in England. However, the ad-libs of Jefferson’s friend, E. A. Sothern as the foppish and silly Lord Dundreary, soon eclipsed the American cousin.

With expansive sideburns and dandified attire, Sothern transformed Lord Dundreary’s role from a bit part into a top billing character.  Sothern became almost synonymous with the role and was able to perform it in several sequels and spin-offs.  “Dundrearies” entered the popular lexicon as a term to describe the facial hair Sothern chose for the character.  Not a hundred years after throwing off British rule, it is perhaps no surprise that the idiotic sayings of a ridiculous Englishman were thought humorous by American audiences.

Sheet music cover for "The Laura Keene Schottish", 1856. Theater Collection, Museum of the City of New York. 40.160.1064

Neither Jefferson nor Sothern performed for Lincoln the night of April 14th, but Laura Keene, who played the show’s original heroine, Florence Trenchard,  was on the stage.

In fact, it was Keene’s company that premiered the show in New York at the theater she managed on Broadway.  A single mother with two young daughters, Keene came to the United States from England in 1852 with an invitation to perform with James William Wallack’s New York based stock company. By 1857 she had formed her own company, leased theaters in Baltimore, San Francisco and New York,  and built  her own theater at 622 Broadway.   One of her theater’s biggest hits was Our American Cousin.  Below is an a page from the Laura Keene’s Theatre’s ledger for a performance of the play two years after its debut.

Account book for Laura Keene's Theatre, p. 186, August 11, 1860. Theater Collection, Museum of the City of New York. 39.500.153

Notes in the upper left corner provide information on the weather the night of the performance.  It was threatening rain on the evening of August 11, 1860, but that didn’t stop the audiences.

Our American Cousin wasn’t just the last play President Lincoln saw.  It  was one of the great commercial successes of its day.  It made a star our of E. A. Sothern and cemented the reputation of Laura Keene, America’s first successful theatrical businesswoman.   And 150 years later, the plot line still is still capable of capturing the imagination of a wide audience.  The images and information I was able to fit into this short blog post really are, if you’ll permit the allusion, just the tip of the iceberg.

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The Abolitionist Riots of 1834

Posted on April 3, 2012 by | 9 Comments

Not too long ago, I was looking through our map collection with Andrea Renner, one of the Museum’s Andrew W. Mellon Post-Doctoral Curatorial Fellows, who assisted curator Hilary Ballon on the The Greatest Grid: The Master Plan of Manhattan, 1811-2011, on view at the Museum through July 15.  We came across the map below. I’d seen it before, but been puzzled by the what it was meant to depict.

Map of Intersection of Spring Street and Varick Street, ca.1850, in the J. Clarence Davies Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.2984.

The map shows the intersection of Spring and Varick Streets. A barricade of sorts has been erected at the west side of the intersection, running across Spring Street, and two figures are fighting in the middle with what appear to be swords.

Map of

Inset, Map of Intersection of Spring Street and Varick Street, ca.1850, in the J. Clarence Davies Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.2984.

On closer inspection, it becomes apparent the barricade is made of carts, and in addition to the two figures fighting in the center of the streets, the intersection is completely surrounded by armed figures.  Andrea viewed hundreds of maps throughout New York City’s repositories during the several months leading up to The Grid, and was equally perplexed by this map.  Not too long after she’d completed her research for the exhibition, she sent me an excerpt from a book she’d found online, describing a “riot” in 1834, in which a mob attacked the homes and property of known abolitionists. The 27th Regiment was called in to disperse the mob, which had assembled in large numbers in the vicinity of Reverend Ludlow’s Church on Spring Street, between Varick and MacDougal, where they had amassed a barricade of carts, barrels, and ladders.  If you refer to the inset below, you’ll see the only structure identified on the whole map is an unnamed “Church,” which sits in the upper left quadrant on the image.  (We think the tiny black dots are meant to represent individual rioters.)   Andrea had identified our mystifying map.

Inset, Map of Intersection of Spring Street and Varick Street, ca.1850, in the J. Clarence Davies Collection. Museum of the City of New York. 29.100.2984.

I consulted the ever helpful Gotham: A History of New York City to 1898, by Edwin G. Burrows and Mike Wallace, to learn more about this event.   In July of 1834, several riots broke out, primarily incited by those -  such as James Watson Webb, editor of the Courier and Enquirer;  and William Leete Stone, secretary of the New York Colonization Society and editor of the Commerical Advertiser – opposed to the abolitionist activities of Arthur and Lewis Tappan, brothers involved with the founding of the American Anti-Slavery Association.

In the days leading up to July 11th, the events of which are depicted in the map above, anti-abolitionist activities erupted throughout the city.  On July 7th, anti-abolitionists descended on the Chatham Street Chapel, where a celebration in honor of the seventh anniversary of the emancipation of New York’s Slaves was planned.  Three separate riots broke out on July 9th:  The Chatham Street Chapel was once again a target; Lewis Tappan’s Rose Street Home was demolished; and four thousand people stormed the Bowery Theater, where a benefit was underway for George Farren, the playhouse’s British stage manager, a man known for his anti-Yankee sentiments. Over the next two days Arthur Tappan’s Pearl Street Store was pelted with stones; rioters stormed the Laight Street Church, where the Reverend, Dr. Cox had preached in favor of church integration; and later a group broke into Cox’s home on Charlton Street.  Numerous other episodes of violence occurred, culminating in the swearing in by Mayor Lawrence of 1,000 volunteer constables, the deployment of the New York First Division, and all-night patrols by Calvary Squadrons. By Tuesday, July 15th, the riots had been suppressed.

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