USA > New York > Essex County > Bloomingdale > The New York of yesterday; a descriptive narrative of old Bloomingdale, its topographical features, its early families and their genealogies, its old homesteads and country-seats, the Bloomingdale Reformed church, organized in 1805 > Part 29
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40
1866, Feb. Magdalena Roeder, wife of Paul Bauer
"
May 5 Alonzo Blanck Died May, 1866.
1867, May 4 Jane Smith, wife of Anthony V. Wy- nans
Aug. 3 Mary Louise Clark, widow of Hamilton Dis'd to California Morgan May 27, 1871.
1868, Jan. 26 Robert McKensie. Died 1880.
" Feb. I Caroline Northwood, wife of William
Blick Died July, 1877.
" Catharine Quick, On cert. from 42d widow of William St. Pres. Ch. Frederick
Henrietta Q. Freder- ick, wife of John P. On cert. from 42d Reynolds St. Pres. Ch.
" Apr.
5 Sarah J. McCon- On cert .; dismissed aughey, wife of Mar., 1882. John Harding
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Among Old=time Families
1868, Apr. 5 Frederick Kreider & Caroline Blatner, his wife
.. May 2 Harriet N. Moore, mother of Mrs. Thomas Mitchell.
Dec. 27 Elizabeth Post, wife of Albert van De- beck Dismissed March,
1870, June 13 Daniel Murray Oct. 16 Hester Dale
Died 1871.
66
23 Caroline Bauer
" Dora Bauer
Dismissed to Califor- nia. On confession.
1871, May 28 Margaret Divene, widow of David Monteith Died 1878.
Aug. 6 Alexander William McDonald Died Aug. 3, 1872.
" Charlotte Williams, wife of Alex. Wm. On confession. McDonald.
" " Alex. Wm McDon- ald Jr.
1872, Jan. 7 Jacob Flick
Anna Flick
66
27 Samuel Halden Died Jan. 27, 1872.
Feb. 4 Sarah Louisa Rapp, widow of Samuel Halden On confession.
1873, Mar. 16 Henry Gilbertson Died May 10, 1873.
1874, Feb. H : George Frederick Armstrong On confession.
" Fannie Christina
Armstrong
1882.
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The new Dork of Desterday
1874, Feb. I Lelia King Arm- On confession. strong
Mar. 6 Catherine Ehmer, widow of Frederick Pfening 66
1875, Apr. 18 Catharine Ann On cert. from Luth'n Kirschbaum, wife Ch. Walker St .; d. of Joseph Robinson Oct., 1880.
" Louisa Pfening On confession.
25 Marion Swan Halden wife of Charles A. Winch
June 20 Mrs. A. M. F. Com- On cert. from Clin- stock ton, N. J., Pres. Ch. : d. Jan. 16, 1876.
" July 25 Julia Tinellie, widow of Thomas Royal Lush On confession.
" Oct. 24 William Fruitright
Nov. 6 Lizzie M. Armstrong
Dismissed Feb., 1880.
1876, Apr. 30 Chas. Francis Adams Mitchell On confession.
1877, May 6 Barbary Geier, wife of Jacob Flick 66
" Oct. 28 Louis Overmeyer and Charlotta Cipp, his wife 66
1878, Apr. 7 Pauline Pfening
188I, Oct. 6 Samuel B. Reed.
22 Otis D. Stewart
On cert. from Tst Ref'd Dutch Ch. New Brunswick, N.J.
+
VIII
Reminiscences
In the many years during which we have been collecting material relating to Bloomingdale and its worthies, much has been ascertained of interest which is worth preserving here. Much more would be out of place in this connection, as it does not concern this story. The data transcribed in this chapter have been gleaned from diaries, letters, and notes, taken from the spoken words of the few surviving old residents. Mrs. Jane Cozine Dorland, Mrs. Ann Agnes Dana, 1 Mrs. Marion Bissland Carse, and Mrs. Emily Hanaway Stryker are the oldest living communicants. Letters from all of these have proved a mine of information, as has also personal application to many of the de- scendants of families heretofore mentioned, but the palm must be given to the journal kept by Mrs. Stry- ker, as well as a number of articles contributed by her to the press.
Few, among the many dwellers in old Manhattan, can recall the appearance of Bloomingdale sixty-odd years ago. We intend to limit ourselves largely in this work to the Harsenville section thereof, the confines of which
1 Mrs. Dana died at Brooklyn, November 25, 1907, and was buried in the Oakland Cemetery at Yonkers, N. Y.
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have been sufficiently described in previous chapters. The name was not merely appropriate, but necessary, for the different hamlets were situated at such distances apart that the local appellations were required and became mandatory for convenience sake. An owner of property near present Central Park West and the Harsenville road, many years ago, gave to his posses- sions the title of Treaceyville. This is said not to have been quite agreeable to one of the descendants of old Jacob Harsen, who inquired of the owner by what authority he had used the name. Tapping him on the shoulder, this conclusive rejoinder was made: “Misther Harsen, Misther Harsen, tell me by what authority your father gave it the name of Harsenville?" We do not hear that the question was answered, but the former name has been relegated to oblivion, while the other is being fast blotted from memory.
The Harsenville road, open in early days only from the Commons to the Harsen mansion, was a lonely country way. Strangers were seldom seen in the neighborhood. Soon after sunset one evening, such an unusual apparition presented itself to some of the village youngsters with the request, "My dear children, can you tell me who lives -? " The "dear children" did not wait to hear the rest but ran scream- ing to the house, crying "Father, Mother, there is a crazy woman who asks 'Can you tell me who lives -? '"' Chimney sweeps, with sooty faces, and bundles of brush- wood on the back, calling the slogan "Sweep, oh, sweep," were expected, but even they! caused the little ones to keep at the distance of the extreme side of the road.
Domine van Aken, whose use of the parsonage was sometimes interrupted by his state of health, was ac-
Emily Hanaway Stryker.
Portrait and signature of Mrs. Emily Hanaway Stryker
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customed at such times to rent it. Standing far back from the Harsenville road, east of present Columbus Avenue, it was surrounded by the grounds of the acre plot which Harsen donated to the Church. In 1836, the Hanaways occupied it. How the children of the family did ransack the low-studded garret, and frolic in the broad hallway! The reverence of the old house has stamped itself upon the memories of them that survive. Access to it was gained by the local lane, along which were a number of houses. Starting at the Bloomingdale Road was the Holmes residence; next lived the Steeles, also attendants at the services, and ad- joining the parsonage lands resided a French family. The head of this house once introduced himself to a. neighbor, who did not recognize him, as follows: "I am Meester Verning, put I hev mine tirty clothes on!" The Laws lived on the south side of the lane in a house which faced the Bloomingdale Road, ever to be associated in mind with hollyhocks, altheas, lady- slippers, bleeding hearts, and such old-fashioned flowers. Near by lived the Lambs. In his infantile days little Robert exercised his talent for painting, which served him so well in after life. It is recalled that in this habitation, at the age of five, his artistic instinct caused him to crush a brick and with a stone grind it to powder. Moistening it, he undertook, with a feather, to paint the house and gate posts. The firm of J. &. R. Lamb, makers of church ornaments, pulpit decorations, and stained glass windows, now occupies a place apart in the business world. Joseph died recently. Their father passed away when they were very young.
The diary begins its retrospect at the Cozine mansion at Eighth Avenue and 54th Street. Here dwelt Mrs.
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John Cozine and her daughters Catherine (Mrs. Fleet) and Jane, born Nov. 7, 1818 (Mrs. Dorland). Their sister, Sarah Stakes, wife of Peter Adrian Horn, had died in her twentieth year (1836) and left a little child, Sarah Jane. It had been the charge of Mrs. Dorland since it was three days old. The latter's little daughter Jennie was likewise an inmate. The old yellow home- stead is long since gone-removed to make way for the opening of the avenue, in the way of which im- provement it stood. The property passed into other hands before the widow's decease. She had spent all her married life within its walls. Although not in- digenous to the soil, having been born in New Jersey, she was a cousin by marriage of the Harsens and of an array of Bloomingdale families of almost limitless length. Following the old-time custom, when to marry an outsider was seldom heard of, and inter- marriages among cousins usual, the old residents were so connected that from present Union Square to Bloom- ingdale village (100th St.) the Dutch settlers were joined by ties of consanguinity little understood in these days. It may be well to mention some of those with which the Cozines were allied, the names of whom will stir memories of the New York of yesterday among the old-timers. From down town proceeding north- ward, we get the Mandevilles, then come the Horns, van Ordens, Varians, Webbers, Hoppers, Somerin- dycks, Dyckmans, Strikers, and others whose farms covered most of the territory above spoken of.
In this house, one afternoon, we met Mrs. Plumley, the mother of the Rev. Gardiner Spring Plumley. Interesting stories of Dr. Gunn's ministry had often been told by others, and now we had the privilege of talking with an intimate friend in his family thirty-
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three years before. While her kindly face looked down into ours, she narrated tales of her pleasant life in Bloomingdale, of her connection with the old Brick Church when it stood on Nassau Street, opposite City Hall Park, and of her removal to another part of the country. We were afterwards informed of her devotion to the pastor, Rev. Dr. Gardiner Spring, after whom she had named her boy. On the north side of 50th Street, between Eighth Avenue and Broadway, a temporary church edifice had been erected. It was here that the young man was installed as pastor. Some after changes closed these doors and it was then that his mother's early friends, the Cozines, called his congregation to their parlors and every Sabbath day found the rooms filled. On the Fourth of July, 1855, the Sabbath-school of the Church at Harsenville held its anniversary exercises on the grounds behind the old farmhouse. The Rev. Mr. Plumley, his wife, his parents, and his sister were there. The young minister, happy and enthusiastic, arose to address us. He related that when he was a little boy, his mother had told him of a country village, many miles away, where the people were afraid to walk out of evenings, because of robbers. In this place she at one time taught in the Sunday-school-this at a time when even good people had their doubts about such schools. Dr. Gunn even refused to send his children for fear of the consequences. He told also of the old colored slave of the family, of whom we have heard. So godly was he that Dr. Gunn once remarked, "I shall be happy to get into heaven and take a seat at the feet of Hannibal Ritter."
Continuing his reminiscences, Mr. Plumley stated that this good man came to Jacob Harsen on an occasion
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and asked to be excommunicated, saying that he had had a serious quarrel with a neighbor and that there had been much cursing and swearing. "What!" exclaimed Deacon Harsen, "did you swear, Hanni- bal?" "No, sir," was the reply, "Mr .- swore terribly, but I never said a single word." It seems that Hanni- bal had sold him a horse for five dollars and that the purchaser came to the old colored man declaring that he had been cheated, as the horse was not sound. As Mr. Plumley ended his address, Domine van Aken arose. He gave an account of the last hours of Mr. and added, "No doubt he and Hannibal have been clasped in each other's arms in heaven!" After the exercises, wood was gathered on the grounds and Mrs. Plumley, who appeared to be a general favorite, pre- pared the coffee and tea, and, assisted by the ladies, set a dainty table. It was a pleasant, happy party that returned to the city at sunset.
We frequently heard Mr. Plumley preach in the little building and his sermons were full of Gospel truths. This congregation afterwards united with that of the Rev. James B. Dunn when his church removed from Spring Street, and it is now the flourishing Central Presbyterian Church in West 57th Street between Broadway and Seventh Avenue. The edifice on this site was formerly that presided over by the Rev. Dr. John Hall at Fifth Avenue and 19th Street, and was removed stone by stone and reconstructed here. Mr. Plumley in after years became a pastor in the Reformed Church in Fulton Street. He died in 1894 and was buried from the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, when Dr. Hall officiated.
A walk through the village sixty-odd years ago! A pretty village it was. There was no "shanty town" to
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Reminiscences
mar the beautiful expanse of green, and the rural simplicity. The foreigners came later on. The rocks were there, but the goats came with the new arrivals. There was even no Central Park, just acres of waste land around. As we left the Cozine homestead, we crossed Eighth Avenue and continued on in the shadow of a great rock before we reached 58th Street. We will walk on the west side of the Bloomingdale Road and return on the east side.
Look among the trees, near 59th Street. That is the residence of the Havemeyers. Now look forward over the green fields. There are a few scattered dwellings before we enter Harsenville. At 64th Street stood a modest little frame cottage. A godly man lived there who was well known and respected. He was the keeper of cows and supplied the village with milk. Although a Baptist, as were others near by, he attended the weekly prayer-meetings at the local church. At 66th Street once stood an old frame building, the abode of Mr. Norton. "J. B. D. Galliard & Son," French flor- ists, hung out their sign later.
"I have come to see you. I want to make some pies." These words came from the lips of a little old woman who dwelt close by. She was queer, but what of that? We are all more or less queer. Our queerest neighbor often lives next door to us, and he looks out of his window and wonders why we are so queer. The fact is we all wear colored spectacles. Some of us have on blue, some green, some yellow, some red. We all wonder why our neighbor with the green glasses per- sists in saying everything is green, and we storm and fret and wonder why his parents and teachers did not make him see everything with the same colored glasses we wear. Well, well! what a monotonous
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world this would be if we all saw things alike. The old ball would keep turning around year after year and it would be so little changed that if Adam and Eve should return they would see the Garden of Eden as they left it. So let us remember the apostolic injunc- tion, "Let not him that eateth despise him that eateth not."
Every one knew the little woman and laughed at her eccentricities, while she in turn wondered why they laughed. But she was respected nevertheless, and when on Sunday, come rain or come sunshine, Granny H-was seen, with reticule on one arm and prayer- book in hand, wending her way to St. Michael's, she became a walking sermon to all. Would to God that the people of the present age, who have their names written on the church books, would be as faithful as the dear old peculiar saint, who long years ago went to her reward. We do not remember that she ever rode. She preferred to walk from 68th Street to 99th Street on the country road. In summer this thorough- fare was thick with dust, in winter and spring with snow and mud. The latter splashed over the shoe- tops or sadly spoiled the young girls' pantalets, both girls and pantalets being the pride of the mothers.
It has been an easy thing to find an excuse for staying away from the house of God.
As butterflies with gaudy wings Display themselves on summer days, So Sunday saints, more gaudy things, Will seek God's house, to pray and praise. But if a mist o'erspread the ground, Or e'en a cloud obscure the skies,
These Sunday saints are weather-bound
And stay at home like butterflies.
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Reminiscences
It became a very plausible excuse for persons to remain at home from the afternoon service because the driving up the Bloomingdale Road, on a Sunday afternoon, rendered it positively unsafe to venture out. There were no sidewalks, and the dust, scattered by the pass- ing vehicles, pretty well peppered the white muslin dresses of the young girls. In winter, the quantity of sleighs and the jingling of their bells confused the pedestrian and made it dangerous to life. The Sab- bath-breakers were on their way to McComb's Dam, the favorite resort. As a consequence, many people eased their consciences and sat down to a quiet after- noon, while a few, more conscientious ones, took risks and attended the service at the village church at 3 o'clock.
Granny H -- left her home early on Sunday morning and, as the driving did not begin until afternoon, she was on the safe side. During the week she taught a private school for very small children. Not being the owner of a clock, she commenced the morning exercises, and dismissed the children, when the sun cast its shadow upon certain marks on the floor. Cats were her delight, and boys her abomination. Her in- come was very small, so the neighbors often sent her presents and smiled when, in her independent way, she found fault. She would enter a neighbor's house and inform them she was about to make some pies. As the dish in her hand was empty her friends would ask good-naturedly, "What are you going to make them with, Granny?" "Oh!" she would reply, "I thought you would give me a little flour and a few apples." As this was never refused, the pies were made and the old lady, after a little chat, would take her leave. It is related that the village doctor, on one
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occasion, sent her a load of wood and placed himself in a position where he might be able to hear her expres- sions of gratitude. "It's no use for Dr. Williams to send me a load of wood, unless he sends some one to cut it," was the grateful thought that burst upon the listening ear. So far as we know she was alone in the world, although some have said that she came of a family of wealth. Notwithstanding all her peculiari- ties she was looked after by her kind neighbors and when she died, although there were none to weep, she had a kindly burial.
Next we come to the residence of the Caryl family. Isaac was the head of the house. He owned property on the Nevada site and was one of those who sold to Jasper. Sarah, the wife, joined the communion Nov. I, 1856, and died in 1859. Emily Caryl was married by the minister to William Halden in 1842. About the year 1850 a widow with her two little boys lived there. She was in feeble health, and for some reason was obliged to leave her house for a while. She sailed across the sea to her native land, England. It may have been for the purpose of settling business matters, or it may have been on account of her health, for it was evident to all that she was soon to pass away. She returned just ready to go to the land "from whence no traveller returns." Dear little Mrs. Ashby! All through her sickness she gathered many friends among the young people and it was they who watched by her dying bed. When at last the close of life was near she took upon her lips the hymn so precious to God's saints at that time. It is quaint, compared with modern hymns-
Vital spark of heavenly flame,
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame!
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Trembling, hoping, lingering, sighing, Oh, the pain, the bliss of dying.
She sang on until she came to the words
Cease, fond mortals, cease your strife! And let me languish into life.
She then became exhausted and sank sweetly to her rest. We gathered around her coffin in her home and our pastor called our attention to her peaceful ex- pression. It was an impressive hour. Her two little boys were placed in the Orphan Asylum. The same day and at an hour so near that set for the young mother's funeral, Domine van Aken had to shorten the service a trifle in order that he might officiate at another. An aged servant of God was resting from her labors and was now to be committed to the dust to await the resurrection of the just. This was the widow of Samuel A. Lawrence, an Elder during Dr. Gunn's pastorate.
We now reach the Jasper grocery. A few years later, Mr. John Reid, who had kept the hotel on the opposite side of the street, left it to the care of "Pop" Griffen and built a small house on land hired from the Church, where he opened a variety store. One of his sisters, Ann Clark, had children baptized by the minister and both united with the society. This the centre of Harsenville, in 1845, boasted of only some ten houses along the Bloomingdale Road. What was called "River Lane," a continuation of the Harsenville Road which ran westerly from the Mansion nearly on the line of present 70th St., ended at Sanger's soap works. This was during the thirties. He was succeeded by Peter Rennie, an Elder, who opened in the forties a calico print factory on the river's banks. This gave em-
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ployment to many young people, most of whom came from a distance to their labor. Sanger's wife was a sister of the Brooks who married William Holmes's daughter Augusta.
At the head of the street was the engine-house of No. 50, Mohegan, on the ground where the original church edifice stood. Tenth Avenue ended here and was not extended farther until 1850. The place to which it was opened formed at the time, as it does to-day, a triangle. There a stream of water flowed through it to lose itself in the river at the foot of present 69th Street. When fire broke out, excitement grew intense in the small hamlet. How the shouts of "Fire! Fire!" echoed and "ding, dong, ding, dong" reverberated as the engine was hauled out! The volunteers pulled and tugged, shouted and swore as it rattled up the Bloom- ingdale Road. It passed the Harsenville Road this time and stopped somewhere in the vicinity of 79th Street. We were wrapped in blankets and carried to the north window of our house to watch the progress of the flames. It was our first experience of a fire. Oh! pour on water, brave volunteers! Extinguish the flames if you can! They leap to the heavens and men- acingly roar as they rise. Crash come the walls until only a heap of ashes is left. Thus was destroyed Huddard's school building.
The second story of the brick building which Jasper put up was rented to the city, which used it for the local police station. Entrance thereto was obtained in the rear. Capt. Robert Thompson and five men had charge of that part of the island east, west, and north of 42nd Street. An officer's salary was $500 a year.
Murphy was the village blacksmith. His shop was
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Reminiscences
at the now southeast corner of 69th St. and Am- sterdam Avenue. Ned, the oldest son, was the proud owner of a new rifle. Standing in the shop one day, he made a target of the vane which was plainly visible on the church belfry, with such success that two holes therein showed the true aim displayed. Quite a touse over it among the members resulted. Another son was Joe Murphy, the actor.
Between 68th and 69th Streets lived the Chaudlets in a house which had been constructed as a refuge for the French emigrés of the reign of Louis XVI., on land which ran to the river. Most of the furniture was massive and built in the house, which remained on its site until the laying-out of the Boulevard cut it in half. It had a sloping roof stretched over a sort of gallery like unto Swiss houses in mountain regions. With the mother lived Mme. Chaudlet's son by a former marriage, Francis Joseph Felix. His father, a sailor, had been drowned in a wild storm off Finisterre. The widow, having some relatives in New York, came hither with her baby son at the dawn of the XIX. century. A few years later, she met and married Joseph Chaudlet. He was an important character in the old village and a man of many talents and re- sources. Born in Marseilles, he met in Paris with Gen. Lafayette who found that Joseph was an excellent cook and gave him, on leaving France, letters to Fulton and Major Colden, which procured him the position of chef to Lord Courtenay, who kept an almost princely house- hold at "Claremont." Chaudlet exhibited such skill in treating the Viscount's horses that he was promoted to the post of veterinary surgeon. Afterwards he built and managed the Harsenville smithy. His step-son, Felix, worked with him, learning also under his in-
27
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struction the surgical care of horses. He became the oracle of the neighborhood. In 1868, Mrs. Greatorex, who stopped at the house during her sketching tour through Bloomingdale, states that he was a veterinary surgeon with an office at 53d Street, near Eighth Avenue. He accompanied her on many of her jaunts. She describes him as "not tall, but broad and strongly built; his eyes are very keen and bright, his complexion, 'browned by the generous sun' is clear and fresh and his grey hair thick and curly." His memory harked back sixty years and he related stories of the olden times when the dread of yellow fever brought people here for the summer; and, from hearsay, of the period when the cry of "The British are coming" sent frightened women and children from Long Island, Brooklyn, and the southern end of the city to this section for succor from the soldiery. In speaking of the occupants of the surrounding country-seats in Colonial times he remembered hearing that "these rich gentlemen wore the old style of dress-powdered queues and knee- breeches, ruffled shirts and silver buckles; and the ladies affected powdered hair and beautiful dresses of flowered silk and quilted satin petticoats." As of course they did, as some of the portraits reproduced testify. Felix became a member of the church, April 27, 1873 and died in 1877. Harriet Baker, the widow Purdy, his wife, united May 6, 1853, and died March 19, 1873, aged 64 years II days. They had been married by the Rev. Mr. Richmond, July 1, 1837, and a number of their children were baptized by him. The last child, Josephine, was christened in 1859 by Domine van Aken.
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