USA > New York > Bronx County > History of Bronx borough, city of New York : compiled for the North side news > Part 8
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De Lincey's Pinc
One single glance at the De Lacey pine seems to dary are back to the woodland day - when the surrounding fortis were full of wild beasts. Once again is this magnificent tree a neigh. bor to the savage cries of animals, only this time they come from the New York Zoological lajk, and the noises are rapidly becom-
46
HISTORY OF BRONX BOROUGH
ing more varied and much louder than ever they were in early days. When all other animals are silent, the peculiar and penetrating cry of the sea-lion re-echoes through the woods.
"Where gentle Bronx clear winding flows The shady tanks between ; Where blossomed bell or wilding rose Adorns the brightest green ; Memorial of the fallen great, The rich and honored line, Stands high in solitary state, De Laneey's Ancient Pine.
"There once at early dawn arrayed, The rural sports to lead, The gallant master of the glade Bedecked his eager steed.
And onee the lightfoot maiden came, In loveliness divine,
To sculpture with the dearest name De Laneey's Ancient Pine.
"But now the stranger's foot explores De Lancey's wide domain.
And scarce one kindred heart restores His memory to the plain.
And just like one, in age alone, The last of all his line,
Bends sadly where the waters moan,
De Lancey's Ancient Pine."
Almost directly opposite De Lancey's Pine stood until re- cently, a quaint old building, on the east side of Boston Road at its intersection with Kingsbridge Road. This was Johnson's Tavern, mn inn of olden times, where both man and beast were wont to be refreshed, it being the last place where the stage- coach changed horses on its way from Boston to New York. "The Mill" seems to have been the best customer of all, for it was apparently the practice for the millers to furnish their em- ployees with stimulants gratis, in order to secure their best ser- vices.
llere is a bona-fide extract, quaint spelling and all, from the old tavern ledger :
SETHI RAMOND'S DAY BOOK.
At the Old Tavern at West Farms.
April 1815. £ sd
John Embrie, to I Gug 006
James Hill, to I lb shugar. 0 13
Elvin Doty, to sider ... .009
Hugh Wallace, to 12 1b Candals
Philip Hunt, to t Gil Gin. . 0 06
Fo Paper Mill, One Quart Spirits. 0 26
James Briggs, to String. OIO
John Strech, to 12 pt gin, 2 loafes. 029
John Lounsbury, to 1 Oz Tobaco. 003
Hugh Wallis, to 1 lb Chees .0 1 4
James Stone. I Qt Eggcider. 016
In the Mill, I Qt Gin .. .030
The Mil, to : Qut Gin. .030
'ohn Embrie, to I Teapot
.0 2 6
. Do
I Qt Eggeider 01 3
I Gil Sp. .000
I Qt. Sp. 026
Above "Johnson's Tavern" the River Bronx widens into a genuine lake, and is a famous place both for boating in the gentle summer days and for skating when the iee has reached the regulation four inches. Nearly half a mile above the falls is still plainly to be seen the spot where the roadway in days of yore turned to the right down to the water's edge, there to be met by a corresponding road on the other side. Here was the ancient fording place, and the houses that once stood inside the park limits of Bronxdale, formerly fronting on the old highway lead- ing from the ford, used afterwards to stand with their baeks to Boston Road, and the effort to make a front out of a rear prospect often resulted in the most striking effects.
The New York Zoological Park has only to be seen to be appreciated. It is located in what was the old Lydig estate, and many thanks are due to the Lydigs for their thoughtfulness in leaving the great forest trees that add so much to its pictur- esqueness and beauty. Before the Zoological Park was laid out, I have often driven through these dense woods, following noth- ing but a scracely perceptible trail. When the snows fell. and I had to rely on the trees themselves as guides, urging the horse over the hard crust, I felt that I must indeed be miles and miles away from New York City's sights and sounds.
No attempt will be made to describe the animals ; the crowds that visit the park are best qualified to do that, from the huge Kadiak bcar of Alaska down to the diminutive prairie dogs whose tiny heads appear at the entrance of their burrows, looking every way to scent any possible danger.
If we follow up the Boston Road, above the ancient fording place, a few steps will bring us to one of the glacial curiosities, a round hole worn in the solid roek by the ice as it passed, een- turies ago, over this region. Descending the hill, over the bridge across the Bronx, from which one of the loveliest prospects of the river can be obtained, one comes to the old-fashioned hamlet of Bronxdale. This unique settlement was styled "The Bleach" as the Boltons had extensive bleacheries there, which were re- moved to West Farms after the city stepped in and bought the property for a park. Old Mr. Bolton was entitled "the Patriarch of the Bleach," and there were many quaint cottages built in the English fashion and populated "with its curious stock of Lan cashire folk." One of these, with its low sloping roof and whitened walls, standing at the intersection of Pelham Parkway and Snuff Mill Lane, reminds the spectator quite forcibly of the lower town of old Quebec.
Gone are all the Bleach Mills and the queer houses that sheltered their employees. In the mind's eye, one can see the pleasing image made by their picturesque appearance and tall. tapering chimneys, mirrored in the clear waters of the Bronx. The solid old Bolton homestead, once standing on a lane of its own, just south of Pelham Parkway, was about two years ago razed to the ground. A very large, thirty-room gray stone house, erected by James Bolton, the "Patriarch." in 1820, it was so well built that dynamite was actually required to destroy it. Several of the tiny, diamond-shaped beveled-glass window panes were still in the house at the time of its destruction, and it scents a great pity that such a substantial building could not have been preserved as city property.
Bronx Park, properly speaking, consists of but one hundred and fifty acres. Yet the official statement is that it comprises Whit acres. This is explained by the fact that the one hundred and fifty geres lie between the Zoological Park and the Botani- cal Garden, and are reserved strictly and entirely for park pur- poses.
The magnificent Lorillard estate might indeed deserve a whole chapter, but we cant spare but a few words for it. When
47
HISTORY OF BRONX BOROUGH
old Pierre Lorillard built his great stone mansion, now used as the Forty-first Precinct Police Station, and shortly to be given up to the uses of those connected with the park, he certainly "builded better than he knew." I have been all over the great house, then deserted, and have admired the elegant but plain style that characterizes the Lorillard buildings. Some say the
Lorillard Snuff Mill, Bronx Park
house has sixty rooms, others assert that it contains ninety. From a careful outside scrutiny of all its various extensions and wings, one might easily think the latter estimate correct.
A little to the southeast are the Lorillard private stables, in appearance far more resembling a picturesque chapel than a stable. Old Mr. Lorillard's famous "Acre of Roses." with whose fragrant petals he used to perfume his snuff. has been transformed into the beautiful "Old Fashioned Flower Garden," with its glittering green houses and brilliant blossoms, its nar- row roads and artistic stone grottos. This lovely nook is one of the gems of the Botanical Gardens.
South of this we come to the famous Lorillard Snuff Mill, with its thick stone walls, standing on the very brink of the river. It is now a general store house and work shop for the Park Department, but when I visited it a few years ago, the old water wheels and other machinery were still in distinct evidence. Still south of this stood another older wooden mill with a tall chimney, now destroyed. A splendid macadamized road leads northward from this old Snuff Mill. close to the river's bank. This fine roadway is built directly over the long sluiceway that in times past led the waters to the mill and enabled Mr. Lorillard to gain fame and fortune out of his investment. Evidently this romantic place was once used for rowing. as I have seen the remains of steps, probably used to descend to row-boats when the estate was in its glory.
Following this road you hear the distant rumble of the "Lorillard Falls," after you have passed through perhaps the most picturesque portion of the whole park -- the "Gorge." Here the Bronx River dashes through a narrow, rock-bound chasm, the walls of which tower in some places to the height of nearly one hundred feet. At the northern end, almost feeling the dash of the spray from the falls, stood what was called the "Studio." a most romantic little building, with Gothic windows, set with diamond-shaped panes. A studio it might indeed have been and
none could have been more delightfully located, but from the large tanks contained in its basement and from its vicinity to the water, it has always seemel to me to have more likely been. a picturesque laundry. I took a photograph of it one afternoon and as it was before the bridge was built and also while there was a sluiceway on the easterly shore, I was obliged to scramble down the steep rocks of the "Gorge," and have the camera lowered to me afterwards. But when they destroyed this beauti- ful "Studio" I felt as if my labors had not been in vain.
Iligh above the falls, on the west shore of the river, and covering a large area, is the great Forest Congress known as "The Hemlocks." One is instantly struck with the want of underbush, so prevalent in these woods in general. But this serves only to make "The Hemlocks" more beautiful. In sum mer they are grand; hardly a ray of sunshine can penetrate through the dense mass of branches. But in winter, when the snow lies deep on the ground and clings to each individual twig. often weighing the lower ones to the ground. the effect is in deed wonderful. Woe betide the unhappy person that happen, To be underneath when a sudden wind shakes the branches. He is apt to emerge from "The Hemlocks" looking for all the world like a perfect snow man.
You are now in the midst of the beautiful Botanical Gar- dens. Passing through the many trails that the Lorillards laid out through this entrancing wilderness, and following the ser- pentine "Beaver Swamp Road," one comes to the magnificent Botanical Museum, with its splendid approach. built of snow white stonc. A little below this rise the charming crystal domes of the "Glass House," with its wealth of palms. An idea of the size of this building may be obtained when we realize that the total floor area is nearly one acre. Its length reaches over
Lorillard Studio, Bronx Park
five hundred feet. while the great central done is over eighty feet high. Taken all in all. it is a veritable glimpse of fury land, especially so when the sim is reflected from the polished glass surfaces, and shining roofs.
They are building a bridge just beyond the lake that he- east of "The Hemlocks" and north of that romantic path on the east shore of the Bronx, known very fitly as "Lovers' 1.inc" Above here a densely shaded roadway leads through the up; er part of the park, past a second new bridge, to Williamsbridge.
CHAPTER XVII
THE BRONX ABOVE BRONX PARK
Source of the Bronx-The "Hermitage"-Washington's Gun House-Indian Rock-Valentine Farm House- Woodlawn Cemetery-Adelina Patti's House 1
"More artists yet? More writers yet? Even so, oh, Bronx the long suffering! How many of the tribe have already come unto you and sketched you and painted you in oils and water colors, and written poems and rhapsodies upon you? Better count the brown leaves on the floor of the hemlock grove or the bubbles that sparkle and break beneath the falls."
west shore of the Bronx, and finally pouring its waters into the Williamsbridge Reservoir.
A story is told that when the embankment at West Farms was constructed to raise the waters for the use of Lydig's Mitts. it had to be so high as to form the artificial lake that extended in about a mile, even under the bridge at Bronxdale. Then, wh.a.
A Scene on" Bronx River
How many have asked: "Where is the source of the Bronx?" On the slopes of Bear Ridge, near Pleasantville, there is said to be a single spring that sends one third of its flow to i am the Bronx, me-third to swell the Byram and the remaining tage through Dark Valley into Kisco River and the Croton. At Kensin the long aqueduct commences, commonly known as the "pije line," reaching from the Kensico Reservoir, along the
Mr. Bolton wanted water power for his own mil's, he was compelled to build a dam sufficiently high to throw the w'". back so far as to interfere with Mr. Lorillard's plans and. .... This beautiful stretch of water is known as Silver I've Mi- Lorillard, after surveying the situation, adopted another car- The built his mull at a sufficient distance from his house. a . then created the long mill race that, as we have seen, forms and.
49
HISTORY OF BRONX BOROUGH
a delightful driveway. But all these three mill owners had no doubt their own secret opinion of each other.
There is one spot that should be in Bronx Park, but is in- stead just above it. This is the "Hermitage," and is described as an indispensable appendage to the charms of Bronx Park. He who knows Bronx Park, it is said, must also know the Hermitage, or find his knowledge sorely incomplete. No doubt you have seen it from the windows of the train half a hundred times-a plain little cottage with gable ends, and a lot of lat- ticed summer-houses grouped around it. High on the peak of the house a flag flics, standing out flat and stiff, though not a breath of air is blowing. No wonder; it is not an ordinary flag, but one of stiff, solid metal, that at all times flaunts to earth and sky its colors. With the table cloth snowy white, the china spotlessly clean and the fare such as would satisfy an epicure, one who knows has said that he who cannot regale himself with satisfaction and keen delight at this quaint out-of- the-way spot. nor appreciate the beauty of the Bronx River flowing at his very feet, had better betake himself elsewhere.
In speaking of this river, a writer has said:
"The Bronx ista river that requires a special education for its navigation. It winds, it twists, it turns, it doubles upon it- self, it spreads out into a pond, it contracts to a mere thread of water; in fact it is the most capricious and absurd little water- course on the face of the civilized globe!"
Then this author goes on to quote:
"Kee ay ploorong, Mahree?
Washington Gun House
"Mais, m'sieu, c'est Toto qui pleure, parce qu'il a tviste la tail a la chatte, et puis papa lui a fetchee des gifles."
fle also adds: "That's what the beautiful language of France comes to on the banks of the winding Bronx!"
On the westerly side of the Bronx, just above McLean Avenue, stands one of the curiosities of the region-the old Hyatt homestead, otherwise known as Washington's Gun House. Its remarkably quaint appearance, at an oblique angle to the present streets, at once attracts the observer. On an old map it is elose to Hyatt's Lane, an early thoroughfare that ran through this region.
"You can see its sides are punctured by bullets fired by the boy's during the Revolution," was what the old resident told me, while showing me through his antique abode. "Here it was that General Washington stored his guns, and this is why that place "ver there"-pointing to the heights on the other side of the Bronx-"was called Washingtonville."
Perhaps the most curious place of all was the mique "smoke room," on the western side of the old house. The stove pipe from the kitchen stove, we learned, did not lead into the great fire place. It discharged its smoke into an intervening chamber known as the "smoke room," in which the hams were thoroughly . moked up (as also were we) before the fumes found their way
to the immense chimney. It was one way of accomplishing the purpose, but rather a strange one. A friend who visited the old place a short time ago told me that he found the old "sminke room" had entirely disappeared, and that the kitchen was en- larged and the big fireplace opened directly from it.
- An ancient resident was recently visited who told many tales of this section as he remembered it, years ago. In his early boyhood this whole region was literally a wilderness, it being asserted that beyond the Van Cortlandt Mansion the dwelling-, as far as the eye could see from the highest point of land. could easily be counted on one's fingers.
"Wall, young feller, when I was a boy the only roads 'round here were the Mile Square Road and Gun Hill Road, and if we wanted to get across the Bronx and didn't care to go way up to Hunt's. Bridge, why we pulled off our boots, if we had any, and waded across the Bronx near Indian Rock.
"Where is Indian Rock, do you say? Why, young feller, that is the big flat rock near the Harlem Railroad, just across there opposite the old Hyatt Homestead, and I am sorry to see the old house going to pieces. But those New York people don': place any vally on these old-timers.
"We used to skate a good deal on the Bronx when the old mill dam backed the water way up to Hunt's Bridge (they call it West Mount Vernon now) and we had a good stretch of ice to spread ourselves on. I was as much to hum on the ice as old Hyatt's ducks was on the water.
"In the thick woods where the receiving vault of Woodlawn Cemetery is now, was our meeting place for a race on the Bronx, because there was a good cider cellar there, and we'd have a couple o' hookers fore we'd go for a spin. Our skating was done moonlight nights and Sundays. The only church was old St. Paul's at Eastchester, and that was a leetle too far :o walk, unless we was fortunate enough to have farmers' daughters to escort. And when the old coach came rumbling twice a week from Harlem over Cole's Bridge on the way to Bedford we ling. used to get together at Barker's to get the news from the city. and when I look back to those times I can't help thinking kow the present generation would have laughed at our gawkiness!"
The old Valentine farm house, which according to this au- thority, stood where the receiving vault of the beautifully laid out Woodlawn Cemetery is to-day, never dreamed that it would be in the midst of New York City's most popular burying place. About 1863 inquiries were made in regard to the various owners of the farms, and to-day the heavy growth of timber has yielded to the skill of the landscape gardener, and we have a fine resting place for the dead, where are 66,000 interments, including many of the country's most illustrious heroes, such as David Glass Farragut and Lieutenant De Long. This latter's body, with those of his comrades, was brought from the Arctic regions and it- terred on Chapel Hill Avenue. Two of the handsomest maus - leums are those of Jay Gould, said to be the finest in this coun- try, and modelled after the Parthenon at Athens, and that of Collis P. Huntington. Nor must we omit to mention the large plot on Rutgers Avenue, filled with bodies from the cemetery of the old Rutgers Street Church, all the tombstones being Iva. flat on the ground.
Woodlawn Cemetery is fast becoming the pride of the metra polis, so many and so splendid are its monuments. While the opening of Webster Avenue did away with the pretty little late near the northeastern entrance, yet the $20.000 station of Harlem Railroad is certainly a decided improvement ani that has come to stay.
Located in the very northernmost portion of the Barong the Bronx is a place associated with one of the world's i ...
50
HISTORY OF BRONX BOROUGH
prima donnas, Adelina Patii. It was carly in the fifties that her father and mother, brother and sisters came to the shores of America, eventually moving to Wakefield or Washingtonville. On a site across the Bronx from the old Hyatt homestead, on the corner of what is now Matilda Street and Becker Avenue, Mr. Patti purchased a plot of ground, erecting on it a two-story brick house, with a piazza in front. He is described as having been a tail man with intensely black eyes, never being seen without a black cap which had the appearance of being much too small for his head. The house where Patti enjoyed her childhood
days is still standing at date of writing. She was a slim young girl of perhaps nine years when her family moved to Wakefield. "She was usually barcheaded, with curls flying about in the wind as she skipped through the fields as light as a bird, and her little feet seemed made only for dancing. The hands which have since sparkled with precious stones to the value of half a million dollars, in every country on our globe, at that time patted the brown earth into shape with supreme unconsciousness of the future." Indeed it is true, as some one has said: "There is not a corner of our Bronx where some noted person has not lived !"
Botanical Museum in Bronx Park
CHAPTER XVIII
EDENWALD
Seton Falls-Indian Hiding Place-Indian Fortifications-Seton Cave-Seton Mansion
"Oh, give me a home 'mid the vales of rare Edenwald ; No parks formed by man with thy woodlands compare; Nor fountains e'er built or exquisitely chiseled,
Equals old Seton Falls, 'mid the green bowers there."
to visit the lovely glades of the section known as Edenwald, lying between Eastchester, Mount Vernon and Woodlawn.
What other park in our vast city can boast of a double silvery cascade like that of Seton Falls, where, in their rocky defile,
Seton Falls Cave
Not so long ago a friend from the South said she did not know that there were any woods in New York City. Outside of the park lands there is no more convincing argument of the presence of dense forests, right in our great metropolis, than
otte can not but liken their beautiful spray to the celebrated Bridal Veil of the Yosemite? Where can one find a more mysterious "Indian Hiding Place." just below the falls, with its narrow opening through which several men can creep, one at a
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HISTORY OF BRONX BOROUGH
time, and remain as completely hidden from any pursuers as though thousands of miles away?
A short distance below, in a strange and curious rock-bound wim-circle, hali natural, half wrought by the hand of man, are the celebrated "Indian Fortifications." To crouch down and inde behind these is to command, without being seen, a perfect watch on any enemy trying to steal up the narrow gorge through which dows Rattlesnake Brook in its descent through the dense mills, vi foliage.
And the cave -- what words are able to describe its unique wowdlers? Picture to yourself an immense cavern in a precipi- thats ledge of rock, large enough to form a whole room, indeed perhaps two rooms, of our up-to-date flats. Into this cave I found it an easy matter to lead a large horse, turn him around add pose him for his photograph. The remnants of many a tire are distinct evidence that it is a favorite nook for picnic parties. Weary of the constant roar of this double cascade of Rattlesnake Brook and possibly apprehensive of the approach of a band of stealthy Indian ghosts from their "Hiding Place," no doubt many visitors have selected the depths of the cave as a safe recess to kindle a cheery fire and eat their luncheon.
Emerging from this cave, you are in the midst of the forest primeval. I remember once asking a man how he thought the cave came to be there. His answer was: "It was growing there!"
On one side of the cave is a narrow flight of stone steps. built into the solid wall, leading directly behind old "Seton Hall," on the grounds of which I have seen a most strange, vault-like cavern. This old-fashioned, squarely-built "Seton Hall" stands on the site of the ancient Seton mansion, long since destroyed. In appearance it resembles very strongly the old Hamilton Grange, the former residence of Alexander Hamilton, on Con- vent Avenue, Manhattan. This whole area of beautiful Eden- wald is one of the most enjoyable woodland nooks in our entire borough, even rivalling Bronx Park's glades in its wonderful beauty.
"Just give me a cottage near the old Seton Mansion, Surrounded by trees and by Nature's sweet lawn : Where the fall of the waters will hush me to slumber And the song-bird's swect lay will awake me at dawn."
.
--
A Boat Club Scene on the Harlem
CHAPTER XIX
PELHAM BAY PARK
Anne Hutchinson-Thomas Pell-Haunted Cedar Knoll-Glover's Rock-Battle of Pell's Point-Old Ferris House .
"New York wants and should have immediately a grand park with a water front on Long Island Sound; one which should be the people's own, a resort for picnics and excursions, a place where they could enjoy the pleasures of boating, bathing, fishing, riding, etc." Such were the words in the petition of the act under which Pelham Bay Park was formed. The Commission in part reports: "A large park on Long Island Sound, well situated and picturesque, accessible both by land and by water, swept by the healthful breezes of each, a park which may be approached by steamboats and all manner of vessels, where the people can roam in freedom, well shaded by native trees, seems as necessary to our city, as it is to be at the same time so beauti- ful, original and healthful."
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