USA > New York > Bronx County > History of Bronx borough, city of New York : compiled for the North side news > Part 14
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Beyond where the Flunt's Point Road turns to the left is "a modest shaft, half hidden by the tangle of bushes and wild flowers that border the road, marking the grave of a poet who knew and loved our own neighborhood in the early days when all was country-like and the city far away-Joseph Rodman Drake."
Among the relics from the Old Hunt Inn was discovered a pane of glass in one of the windows, on which were written with a diamond the names of "Joseph Rodman Drake" and "Nancy Leggett." joined at the end with a bracket and the word "Love." This has been most carefully preserved. Drake him- self says :
"Yet I will look upon thy face again, My own romantic Bronx, and it will be
A face more pleasant than the face of men.
Thy waves are old companions; I shall see A well remembered form in each old tree,
And hear a voice long loved in thy wild minstrelsy."
"There we find located the grave of a man who, of all others in this country, should have a noble monument erected to him by a patriotic people. Yet there his remains lie in the solitude, neglected, almost forgotten. Monuments are raised amid the acclaim of the people and the booming of cannon to poets who have been born on foreign shores, but Joseph Rod- man Drake lies in an almost unknown grave."
Born in New York in 1795, he decided to study medicine, but never practiced it to any extent, as his health failed and he was obliged to go South, returning a few years before his death. The simple inscription on his monument reads :
Sacred to the memory of Joseph R. Drake, M. D., who died Sept. 21st, 1820 aged 25 years. "None knew him but to love him, Nor named him but to praise."
The last two lines are taken from the well known poem by Drake's life-long friend and companion, Fitz-Greene Halleck.
"Even in the desolate old cemetery we realize some of his poetic phrases; we feel the breeze 'fresh springing from the lips of morn :' we see the humbird with 'his sun touched wings ; we hear the carol of the finch and the 'winding of the merry locust's horn' above the grave where the poet rests. As we look out upon the landscape flooded with sunshine and domed by a cloudless sky, we are reminded of other summer days, when. in its happier state, this spot was a grateful resting-place in his walks afield; then we think of that last sad summer, of the early autumn day when loving hands laid him here for the last long sleep, and of the sorrow-stricken Halleck protesting. as he
Hunt Mansion
went forth from this place: "There will be less sunshine for me hereafter, now that Joe is gone."
Drake placed a very modest estimate on his works, and it is believed that but a small portion of them have been pre- served. While lying on his death-bed, a friend inquired of him what to do with his poems. "Oh, burn them," he replied. "They are quite valueless."
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HISTORY OF BRONX BOROUGH
As the last official maps show that it is purposed to run a street directly through this burying-ground, it is proposed to lay out a "Joseph Rodman Drake Park," and at a recent hearing before the official board many prominent people were present and spoke strongly in its favor.
"It is a sacred spot," said a prominent resident, "where even the most exalted personage in the land could profitably panse a while in silent meditation, as did Lafayette when he re-visited our country in 1824."
In an unmarked grave, says an authority, within the lines
They should be permitted to sleep on, in their honored graves 'with all their country's wishes blest.'"
Another historic park is laid out for a breathing place, directly opposite, where are buried the remains of the slaves of the early residents, and the body of "Bill," the colored pilot of the ill-fated "llussar," which, as we have seen, went ashore on North Brother Island in 1780.
Crossing the bridge just beyond the Hunt Cemetery, we find a series of mounds said to have been thrown up when Lord Howe's vessels were in the neighborhood. The remains of them
Joseph Rodman Drake's Monument
of Whittier Street, have lain since 1666 the remains of Magistrate Edward Jessup. We may also name a few more of the graves in this little enclosure: Thomas Hunt the third, the father of the patriot, Thomas Hunt the fourth ; Thomas Hunt the fourth, the revered patriot and peaceful Quaker, who, like Adams, Jei- ferson and Monroe, died on July Fourth. This man, so the same authority tells us, was the friend of Washington, upon wle courage and thorough knowledge of the country our freut leader implicitly relied.
"This little cemetery is also the final resting place of veter- ani of the various Colonial wars and of Continental soldiers, abo members of the Hunt, Leggett, Willett and allied families.
may still be seen, a short distance below the bridge, among a clump of trees, on the left hand side of the road.
One who visited the spot about twenty years ago gives the following interesting description: "A few miles from Harlem is a road leading from West Farms to the Great Planting Neck. upon which are many ancient and modern country seats. Of these perhaps the most ancient stands at the southern extremity of the Neck on an estate which for almost 200 years has been known as lunt's Point. It passed into the hands of Thomas lunt by marriage with Elizabeth, daughter of Edward Jessup, one of the first patentees. The old mansion, erected in ross, occupies a charming situation overlooking the Sound and Flush-
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1
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HISTORY OF BRONX BOROUGH
ing Bay, and near the mouth of the Bronx River, celebrated in song by Joseph Rodman Drake. The Hunt family continued to own and occupy the property until several years ago, when it passed into other hands. During its occupation by the Hunts a small tract of rising ground, comprising less than an acre, was used by them as a burial place."
On the modern maps is shown in large letters: "Lafayette Avenue," branching off at right angles from the Hunt's Point Road. The reason for this, as told me by one of the best au- thorities, is because Lafayette once traveled over this section. In 1824. while on his way from Boston to New York, his course was down through Westchester and along Hunt's Point Road
from Fox Corners, presumably to stay at one of the Leggett houses, George Fox being one of the marshals of a deputation of New York citizens to meet and escort him.
"Lafayette Lane" was the country road, now widened, which extended in front of what was known afterwards as the Faile - House, leading from the Hunt's Point Road down the hill through Mr. Leggett's fields, across the rural gorge spanned by the "Kissing Bridge" to a point north of the present "Longwood Club House," reaching Westchester Turnpike near Longwood Avenue. From this point Lafayette must have journeyed down across the old Harlem Bridge towards New York City.
Hunt House, Boston Road
CHAPTER XXXI
JEROME PARK RESERVOIR
Jerome Park-Old Bathgate Houses-Remains of Old Redoubt-Old Croton Aqueduct-Jerome Park Reservoir Polo Club House
Ten years ago we should have headed this chapter simply "Jerome Park." To-day, however, we must say "Jeronie Park Reservoir," the tower of the High Pressure Pumping Station which, about 300 feet above sea level-is a landmark for many miles around.
Within the limits of the future Jerome Park Reservoir were several relics of the past, to omit which, would render this history incomplete. Oldest of all was the ancient Boston Post Road, which seemed to be fated to lie in the path of the city's water supply, as it is destroyed in great part by both the Jerome Park and Williamsbridge Reservoirs. As we have seen, this early highway was built about 1672, and I can just remember its running through the place where steam shovel and steam drill are now hard at work. From here the roadway extended east- ward to Williamsbridge, where, on the high grounds, a large section is gouged out of it by the Williamsbridge Reservoir.
In the racing days of Jeroine Park, great crowds came from the city to see. the speeding. The Grand Stand was crowded. the great Club House and ball room were a scene of brilliant gayety. Where is that ball room now? Moved quite a distance to the north, and for a long time used as a power station for the reservoir and now nothing of it remains but the lower part of the chimney, the rest having been demolished by dynamite !
An old road, branching off from the Kingsbridge Road close to the Dutch Reformed, or "Manor Church," led to the north through the reservoir, until the Boston Post Road was reached. Near this were two fine old Bathgate houses, one of which is still standing, while the other, situated upon a high hill, has long since been eaten away by the steam drills and shovels. The latter was the homestead of J. Bathgate, formerly shaded by a number of most picturesque pine, spruce and elm trees. An old- fashioned mansion, over 130 years old, it was surrounded by three distinct groups of three trees each. A long disused well at the rear, with heavy logs on top covered with two feet of earth, was only discovered by the merest chance while driving a stake. It was about 50 feet deep, sunk into the solid rock, with a curious recess at the bottom, into which pieces of wood would float and disappear from sight. In later years the man- sard roof, as well as the wing were added. Each room had its own fireplace, while the kitchen could boast of ancient iron bolts for holding a crane, with a wooden board above, having the words :
J. BATHGATE,
evidently inscribed with a branding iron. Nor must we omit to mention that the window seats in the dining-room furnished unmistakable evidence of a solid stone foundation at least eigh- teen inches thick.
At the southwestern corner of the new reservoir is an old fort or redoubt. While standing within it, I could quite plainly make out its shape. Although not shown on a "made-up" map of this region during the early days, it was alternately occupied by the American and English forces, being quite close to Fort In- dependence.
In the lower ground below this old breastwork were dis- covered five gold guineas, of the reigns of George II. and III. Near them was a crumbling skeleton and a long bayonet bent into a parabolic shape. It is thought that the guineas belonged to some officer, and had been originally in a purse, which had long since decayed. They are in wonderfully perfect condition, the milling being clear in every detail. That they are guineas, and not sovereigns, adds greatly to their interest.
As the reservoir covers a territory that was fought over and over again during the first years of the Revolution, the recent excavations have brought to light chain shot, cannon
Bathgate House
balls and musket bullets, numerous bayonets, a number of rusted knife and sword blades, skulls and skeletons, and the remains of soldiers, American and British, who lost their lives in the skirmishes of that historic period.
In general outline, the 299 acres of the new reservoir re- semble a lady's hand mirror, with the handle toward the south. At the north end enter the two aqueducts, the old one, finished in 1842, and the new one, completed in 1890. The first one, which had carried water from the Croton River to the City of New York, was in the main above ground, being an oval shell of brickwork, crossing the Harlem at Highbridge. One of the commissioners appointed for the building of this okler aqueduct by Governor Marey, as we have seen, was W. W. Fox, former owner of the Fox estate. To make sure that the work was properly done, he walked the entire distance inside, making a
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HISTORY OF BRONX BOROUGH
personal inspection of everything and it can well be said that of all the names carved on the High Bridge, none deserves a more prominent place than his. This old aqueduct, although broken in many places, is still existing inside the reservoir at the present writing. I once imitated Mr. Fox's example, in a very limited sense, but after walking about twenty-five feet in the darkness, I hurriedly retraced my steps and made for the light of day. It is said that the "Croton Maid," a little vessel especially built for that purpose and holding four persons, was placed in the aqueduct at its upper end on June 22, 1842, when the water was admitted, and thus the tiny boat made her novel voyage to the Harlem River.
Far underground, the much larger new Croton Aqueduct carries the waters in place of the old, and when the Jerome Park Reservoir is completed both will be in operation, while further to the east the Bronx Aqueduct from Kensico Lake will be a third supply for the Bronx.
When finished the big reservoir will be divided into two sections by a wall running practically north and south, thus forming two reservoirs, side by side. In order to have this dividing line rest on solid rock, it is far from being straight. On top of the wall run the old aqueduct and the new one, the former being about to be destroyed, as it is no longer needed, since it is to be incorporated in the division wall.
Perhaps the best idea of this enormous work is at present to be gained from what is known as "Gate House No. 5." There are also a number of smaller gate houses around the reservoir to supply different sections of this region. This Gate House No. 5. I have been told, will cost $750,000. At this place, the gate chambers, divided by great brick arches, are described as re- sembling cloisters, in the dim cold light that comes from the manholes. I have climbed down the perpendicular iron ladders to the bottom of this gate house. and have passed from chamber to chamber. I have also seen the viaduct, strongly resembling High Bridge on a small scale, which when the work is done and the water admitted will be almost submerged. It is a via- duct in every sense, as it is intended merely as a bridge to walk to "Shaft 21" of the new aqueduct, which, when all is complete, will be opened and its waters allowed to fill the gigan- reservoir. On the top of this "Gate House No. 5" is a large number of immense brass stopcocks, resembling capstans, to operate the heavy iron gates used to shut off and let on the water as it arrives through the aqueduct.
Several interesting computations have been made, as fol- lows: Beginning with 3.730.000 cubic yards of earth excava- tion and 3,165.000 yards of solid rock, adding 392,000 cubic yards of masonry, 53,000 tons of bricks and 3.550 tons of iron pipes and castings, we would have a train of 11,000,000 horses and carts, forming a procession 41,666 miles long, almost enough to go twice around the world. The total weight of this. 14.000,- 000 tons, if loaded on cars, would number 742,500 cars, reaching 6,214 miles. If divided into trains of 45 cars each. 16.500 engines would be required to haul it. One authority adds that the rock to be taken out is alone about equal in quantity to that which
was put into the Great Pyramid of Egypt when it was finished
On the west side of the division wall is the West Basin, at present almost finished. I have often stood in what is to be the East Basin, now a foramidable chaos. Engines, trains of dirt, and gravel and Italians innumerable swarm on all sides. Steam shovels are hard at work eating away the banks. When I was once there this iron monster had encountered a rock ledge, and it was necessary for the steam drills to work night and day to keep ahead of it. Far to the north the engineer's house seems to overlook the whole work. The Oak Ridge Club House used to stand in the western half, but this has been cut into two sections. and it now stands on Sedgwick Avenue, west of the reservoir.
Among the most wonderful sights I have ever seen is the series of „blasts that are fired twice a day. Standing in front of the once elegant Polo Club House, a magnificent view of them may be obtained as they go off, with a volume of sound like the roar of artillery. On one occasion I saw the whole of a hillside slide down at once, a huge cloud of dust immediately concealing the whole from view.
Originally a sugar box farm house, this Polo Club House was enlarged and remodeled by James Gordon Bennett into a magnificently designed building when Jerome Park was in the zenith of its popularity. I have visited many old houses in the Bronx, but I do not hesitate to say that this one shows the greatest evidence of its former elegance. The beautiful ball room, with its gorgeous chandelier, the massive oaken door, the oak stair cases and stained glass windows all betoken the sumptuous lavishment of wealth. At present writing the outlook is not so promising. The never- satisfied steam shovel has approached to within a few feet of the building, and the gigantic forest trees that once surrounded the entrance are being hewn down one by one. Standing upon an "island" of its own, it seems that the day has far passed for any possibility of its being removed, so the beautiful mansion. with all its associations of the past, will probably be destroyed not long hence. The day before I visited this polo club house. I happened to be at the old "Foxhurst" Mansion at Fox Corners. erected in 1840. "I sincerely hope this stately old mansion will be here for many years to come," I said to a gentleman residing there, who knows the Bronx almost by heart. "No. indeed." he responded. "Its days are almost at an end. If the Westchester and Boston Railroad is built, it will go in at the front door and out the rear door !"
When Jerome Park was in vogue as a race track, the main carriage entrance was at what is now Jerome Avenue and 108th Street. There was a large gateway with two iron gates. When work was begun on the reservoir about 1896 this structure was moved up to Jerome Avenue and Boston Post or the Colonial Road. The original huge figures on the gateway were "1866." With the new order of things, the first "6" was turned upside down so as to read "1896." and it seems a great pity that the whole gateway should have to disappear after so many years of service.
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OLD MAP OF ORIGINAL WEST FARMS
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North 43 Hest
CHAPTER XXXII
THE BLACK SWAMP AND HIGHBRIDGEVILLE
The Mysterious Black Swamp-The Old Cromwell House-The Townsend Poole Cottage-Featherbed Lane- The De Voe Residence-Andrew Corsa
The old lane that led from the Zborowski to the Stebbins Mansions did not run in a straight direction-far from it. It made a regular "U" of itself, so as to avoid what has recently puzzled engineers and contractors-the famous "Black Swamp." I had been told of the loss of a number of Mr. Zborowski's blooded cattle at night, and I have heard of school children who had occasion to pass this way, arriving at school with their clothing a mass of mud, but I was entirely unaware of the cause. Situated in the dense thickets behind Claremont Park. its name has clung to it, ever since the time of the Indians, who superstitiously regarded it as the resort of evil spirits. When the early settlers found to their dismay that its depths engulfed
summoned, who gave the following report: "We find two thin ledges of hard, stony earth, the first ten, and the second sixty feet below the surface. Water fills the spaces between these ledges, while beneath the lower ledge is a deep cavity which the drills and measuring lines cannot fathom." It was the sudden collapsing of these ledges that caused the masses of filling to sink out of sight so unexpectedly.
Various are the explanations of this strange phenomenon. Some think there is a swift underground river emptying into the Harlem, a full mile away, or into Long Island Sound, three miles distant, which carries off with mighty force everything thrown into it. In South America there is a lake without any
The Black Swamp
their cattle whenever they came near it, they carefully surround- ed its area with a rough fence.
For many years, even centuries, it lay forgotten, until the city authorities sought to open Morris Avenue through this harmless looking pond. What, then, was the amazement of the contractor to find that 60,000 cubic yards of filling had sud- denly sunk out of sight into the quiet surface of this remarkable pit! At last, however, the work seemed to bring good results and the earth was filled in to the required level. But next morn- ing siniles were suddenly turned to dismay. Every particle of new carth had disappeared as if by magic into the month of the mysterious swamp! A party of expert engineers was hastily
outlet, while one readily recalls the unaccountable mysteries of the Great Salt Lake, the Caspian and the Dead Seas. Sub- terranean human beings are fancifully described in Bulwer Lyt- ton's novel. "The Coming Race," and Jules Verne in his "Jour. ney to the Center of the Earth."
This old lane, as we have seen, terminated at the square !! built residence of Mrs. Stebbins, which, standing on the high crest of land overlooking Cromwell's Creek, has fallen a pres to the pitiless flames, while Cromwell's Creek is slowly but sur 's being filled in, But the old Cromwell Farm House, to the s .: of Jerome Avenue, below 167th Street, is still an chicet of curiosity. The oldest part of this abode has stood there for
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HISTORY OF BRONX BOROUGH
145 years, according to the residents. It once fronted on a slanting roadway, long since closed, a portion of which, formerly (and properly ) styled Marcher Avenue, mounts the steep hill towards Highbridgeville.
There is an interesting story about this Cromwell House, recently told me by an old resident of the vicinity. In days long gone by, the occupants of the old building used to rise every
Cromwell Farm House
night at midnight and fire off a shot gun to frighten away the flocks of wild geese whose weird cries rendered sleep impossible.
On the later maps Cromwell Avenue will come very near, if it does not go directly through, the venerable Cromwell House. If so, our borough will lose one of its very oldest landmarks, though comparatively unknown.
Macomb's Road once led from De Voe's Point at Macomb's Dam Bridge, following the line of Jerome Avenue and branching from it at about 170th Street. Gradually it ascended the hill. past the quaint Townsend Poole Cottage, built, according to the figures in the stonework, in 1782. To read these figures is doubly difficult. First they are written backward. and again they are obscured by a mass of thick vines. Inside this tiny abode was quartered the little band of Esquimaux, brought here by Lieutenant Peary several years ago. I once called upon them, but as I knew no Esquimaux and they no English, our conversa- tion was carried on by means of signs and gestures.
To the north of this cottage Featherbed Lane crosses Ma- comb's Road. The strange name given to this lane is accounted for in two ways; one because the farmers' wives once spread a
Townsend Poole Cottage
large number of feather beds on the lane, to enable a band of Americans to escape silently from their foes, while the second is supposed to be a piece of sarcasm because the lane was """ so extremely rough and bristled with all kinds of stones. Here are the two stories; the reader may take his choice.
On Jessup Place, a short distance cast of Washington Bilge, is one of the oldest houses in this vicinity-the ancient
De Voe residence, the section on which it stands having been in the possession of the family since 1694. The large De Voe farm was divided by Charles De Voe, Sr., into three sections for his three sons, giving his daughters certain sums of money. Thus the old house on Jessup Place, built in 1804, was on the northern of the three sections, and has passed into the hands of the present occupant, Mr. John H. De Voc. The family is of Huguenot origin, the original spelling being De Veaux. Other methods are Devoe, De Voor, De Vau, De Vos, De Vore, De Voore, Du Fower, and De Four, with many other variations.
Mr. De Voe's wife is a descendant of the famous Andrew Corsa, the last of the Westchester guides, who lived at the southwest corner of what is now the Southern Boulevard and Webster Avenue. Although hidden behind the many newer buildings, the old well was still discernible, which stood close to the Andrew Corsa house. The white building just south of the well stood practically on the site of the older one, and Mr. De Voe well remembers, when a boy, talking to Andrew Corsa him- self and accompanying him on walks.
On the back of an early document signed by Stephanus Van Cortlandt, we find that a "certain neck of land joining the Har- lem River, beginning at a certain spring or run of water to the
De Voe Cottage
south of Crabb Island, which is the southeast corner of the land of John Archer's-so round to Harlem River -- which parcel of land, containing 184 acres -- was sold to Ffrederick Devou for the sum of 14 pounds." This was in the year 1694.
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