II. DESCRIPTIVE AND STATISTICAL.
The city of New York, the largest and most important in the United States, is situated in New York County, on Manhattan Island, at the mouth of the Hudson River, eighteen miles from the Atlantic Ocean. The city limits comprise the entire county of New York, embracing Manhattan Island, Randall’s, Ward’s, and Blackwell’s Islands, in the East River, and Governor’s, Bedloe’s, and Ellis’ Islands, in the bay. The last three are occupied by the military posts of the United States Government. Manhattan Island is bounded on the north by Spuyten Duyvel Creek and the Harlem River—practically the same stream; on the east by the East River, on the west by the Hudson, and on the south by New York Bay. It is nine miles long on the east side, thirteen and a half miles long on the west side, and two and a half miles wide at its greatest breadth, the average breadth being a mile and a half. It is but a few feet in width at its southern extremity, but spreads out like a fan as it stretches away to the northward. The southern point is but a few inches above the level of the bay, but the island rises rapidly to the northward, its extreme northern portion being occupied by a series of bold, finely wooded heights, which
terminate at the junction of the Hudson River and Spuyten Duyvel Creek, in a bold promontory, 130 feet high. These hills, known as Washington Heights, are two or three miles in length. The southern portion of the island is principally a sand-bed, but the remainder is very rocky. The island covers an area of twenty-two square miles, or 14,000 acres. It is built up compactly for about six miles, along the east side, and irregularly to Harlem, three miles farther. Along the west side it is built up compactly to the Central Park, Fifty-ninth street, and irregularly to Manhattanville, One hundred and twenty-fifth street, from which point to Spuyten Duyvel Creek it is covered with country seats, gardens, etc. Three wagon, and two railroad bridges over the Harlem River connect the island with the mainland, and numerous lines of ferries afford communication with Long and Staten Islands, and New Jersey. The island attains its greatest width at Fourteenth and Eighty-seventh streets.
The city is finely built, and presents an aspect of industry and liveliness unsurpassed by any place in the world. Lying in full sight of the ocean, with its magnificent bay to the southward, and the East and Hudson Rivers washing its shores, the city of New York possesses a climate which renders it the most delightful residence in America. In the winter the proximity of the sea moderates the severity of the cold, and in the summer the heat is tempered by the delightful sea breezes which sweep over the island. Snow seldom lies in the streets for more than a few hours, and the intense “heated terms” of the summer are of very brief duration. As a natural consequence, the city is healthy, and the death rate, considering the population, is small.
The southern portion is densely built up. Between the City Hall and Twenty-third street New York is more thickly populated than any city in America. It is in this section that the “tenement houses,” or buildings containing from five to twenty families, are to be found. The greatest mortality is in these over-crowded districts, which the severest police measures cannot keep clean and free from filth. The southern portion of the city is devoted almost exclusively to trade, comparatively few
persons residing below the City Hall. Below Canal street the streets are narrow, crooked, and irregular. Above Houston street they are broad and straight, and are laid out at regular intervals. Above Houston street, the streets extending across the island are numbered. The avenues begin in the vicinity of Third street, and extend, or will extend to the northern limit of the island, running parallel with the Hudson River. There are twelve fine avenues at parallel distances apart of about 800 feet. Second and Eighth are the longest, and Fifth, Madison and Lexington the most fashionable. They commence with Avenue D, a short street, near the East River. West of this, and parallel with it, are three avenues somewhat longer, called Avenues C, B, and A, the last being the most westerly. Then begin the long avenues, which are numbered First, Second, and so on, as they increase to the westward. There are two other avenues shorter than those with numbers, viz: Lexington, lying between Third and Fourth, and extending from Fourteenth street on the south to Sixty-ninth street on the north; and Madison, between Fourth and Fifth, and extending from Twenty-third street at Madison Square to Eighty-sixth street. Madison and Lexington are each to be prolonged to the Harlem River. These avenues are all 100 feet wide, except Lexington and Madison, which are seventy-five feet wide, and Fourth avenue, above Thirty-fourth street, which is 140 feet wide. Third avenue is the main street on the east side above the Bowery, of which it is a continuation, and Eighth avenue is the principal highway on the west side. Fifth and Madison avenues are the most fashionable, and are magnificently built up with private residences below the Park. The cross streets connecting them are also handsomely built.
The numerical streets are all sixty feet wide, except Fourteenth, Twenty-third, Thirty-fourth, Forty-second, and eleven others north of these, which are 100 feet wide. The streets of the city are well laid off, and are paved with an excellent quality of stone. The sidewalks generally consist of immense stone “flags.” In the lower part of the city, in the poorer and business sections, the streets are dirty and always out of order.
In the upper part they are clean, and are generally kept so by private contributions.
The avenues on the eastern and western extremities of the city are the abodes of poverty and want, and often of vice, hemming in the wealthy and cleanly sections on both sides. Poverty and riches are close neighbors in New York. Only a stone’s throw back of the most sumptuous parts of Broadway and Fifth avenue, want and suffering, vice and crime, hold their courts. Fine ladies can look down from their high casements upon the squalid dens of their unfortunate sisters.
Broadway is the principal thoroughfare. It extends from the Battery to Spuyten Duyvel Creek, a distance of fifteen miles. It is built up compactly for about five miles, is paved and graded for about seven miles, and is lighted with gas along its entire length. There are over 420 miles of streets in the patrol districts, and eleven miles of piers along the water. The sewerage is generally good, but defective in some places. Nearly 400 miles of water-mains have been laid. The streets are lighted by about 19,000 gas lamps, besides lamps set out by private parties. They are paved with the Belgian and wooden pavements, cobble stones being almost a thing of the past. For so large a city, New York is remarkably clean, except in those portions lying close to the river, or given up to paupers.
The city is substantially built. Frame houses are rare. Many of the old quarters are built of brick, but this material is now used to a limited extent only. Broadway and the principal business streets are lined with buildings of iron, marble, granite, brown, Portland, and Ohio stone, palatial in their appearance; and the sections devoted to the residences of the better classes are built up mainly with brown, Portland, and Ohio stone, and in some instances with marble. Thus the city presents an appearance of grandeur and solidity most pleasing to the eye. The public buildings will compare favorably with any in the world, and there is no city on the globe that can boast so many palatial warehouses and stores. Broadway is one of the best built thoroughfares in the world. The stores which line it are generally from five to six stories high above ground,
with two cellars below the pavement, and vaults extending to near the middle of the street. The adjacent streets in many instances rival Broadway in their splendors. The stores of the city are famous for their elegance and convenience, and for the magnificence and variety of the goods displayed in them. The streets occupied by private residences are broad, clean and well-paved, and are lined with miles of dwellings inferior to none in the world in convenience and substantial elegance. The amount of wealth and taste concentrated in the dwellings of the better classes of the citizens of New York is very great.
The population of New York, in 1870, according to the United States census of that year, was 942,337. There can be no doubt that at the present time the island contains over 1,000,000 residents. Thousands of persons doing business in New York reside in the vicinity, and enter and leave the city at morning and evening, and thousands of strangers, on business and pleasure, come and go daily. It is estimated that the actual number of people in the city about the hour of noon is nearly, if not fully, one million and a half. According to the census of 1870, the actual population consisted of 929,199 white and 13,153 colored persons. The native population was 523,238, and the foreign population 419,094. The nationality of the principal part of the foreign element was as follows:
| From | Number of persons. |
| Germany | 151222 |
| Ireland | 201999 |
| England | 24432 |
| Scotland | 7554 |
| France | 8267 |
| Belgium | 328 |
| Holland | 1237 |
| British America and Canada | 4338 |
| Cuba | 1293 |
| China | 115 |
| Denmark | 682 |
| Italy | 2790 |
| Mexico | 64 |
| Norway | 373 |
| Poland | 2392 |
| Portugal | 92 |
| Russia | 1139 |
| South America | 213 |
| Spain | 464 |
| Sweden | 1569 |
| Switzerland | 2169 |
| Turkey | 38 |
| Wales | 587 |
| West Indies | 487 |
Besides those mentioned in this table, are representatives of
every nationality under heaven, in greater or less strength. It will be seen that the native population is in the excess. The increase of natives between 1860 and 1870, was 93,246. The Germans increased in the same period at the rate of 32,936; while the Irish population fell off 1701 in the same decade. The foreign classes frequently herd together by themselves, in distinct parts of the city, which they seem to regard as their own. In some sections are to be found whole streets where the inhabitants do not understand English, having no occasion to use it in their daily life.
In 1869, there were 13,947 births, 8695 marriages, and 24,601 deaths reported by the city authorities. The authorities stated that they were satisfied that the number of births was actually over 30,000; the number reported by them being very incomplete, owing to the difficulty of procuring such information.
Its mixed population makes New York a thoroughly cosmopolitan city, yet at the same time it is eminently American. The native element exercises a controlling influence upon all its acts, and when the proper exertion is made rarely fails to maintain its ascendancy.
The number of buildings in the city is from 60,000 to 70,000. In 1860, out of 161,000 families only 15,000 occupied entire houses. Nine thousand one hundred and twenty dwellings contained two families each, and 6100 contained three families each. After these come the tenement houses. At present, the number of houses occupied by more than one family is even larger.
It has been well said that “New York is the best place in the world to take the conceit out of a man.” This is true. No matter how great or flattering is the local reputation of an individual, he finds upon reaching New York that he is entirely unknown. He must at once set to work to build up a reputation here, where he will be taken for just what he is worth, and no more. The city is a good school for studying human nature, and its people are proficients in the art of discerning character.
In point of morality, the people of New York, in spite of all that has been said of them, compare favorably with those of any other city. If the darkest side of life is to be seen here, one
may also witness the best. The greatest scoundrels and the purest Christians are to be found here. It is but natural that New York, being the great centre of wealth, should also be the great centre of all that is good and beautiful in life. It is true that the Devil’s work is done here on a gigantic scale, but the will of the Lord is done on an equally great, if not a greater scale.
In its charities, New York stands at the head of American communities—the great heart of the city throbs warmly for suffering humanity. The municipal authorities expend annually about one million of dollars in public charities. The various
religious denominations spend annually about five millions more, and private benevolence disburses a sum of which no record is to be had—but it is large. Besides this, the city is constantly sending out princely sums to relieve want and suffering in all parts of our broad land. New York never turns a deaf ear to an appeal for aid.
The people of New York are very liberal in matters of opinion. Here, as a general rule, no man seeks to influence the belief of another, except so far as all men are privileged to do so. Every religious faith, every shade of political opinion, is protected and finds full expression. Men concern themselves with their own affairs only. Indeed this feeding has been carried to such an extreme that it has engendered a decided indifference between man and man. People live for years as next door neighbors without ever knowing each other by sight. A gentleman once happened to notice the name of his next door neighbor on the door-plate. To his surprise he found it the same as his own. Accosting the owner of the door-plate one day, for the first time, he remarked that it was singular that two people bearing the same name should live side by side for years without knowing each other. This remark led to mutual inquiries and statements, and to their surprise the two men found they were brothers—sons of the same parents. They had not met for many years, and for fully twelve years had lived side by side as neighbors, without knowing each other. This incident may be overdrawn, but it will illustrate a peculiar feature of New York life.
Strangers coming to New York are struck with the fact that there are but two classes in the city—the poor and the rich. The middle class, which is so numerous in other cities, hardly exists at all here. The reason of this is plain to the initiated. Living in New York is so expensive that persons of moderate means reside in the suburbs, some of them as far as forty miles in the country. They come into the city, to their business, in crowds, between the hours of seven and nine in the morning, and literally pour out of it between four and seven in the evening. In fair weather the inconvenience of such a life is trifling, but in the winter it is absolutely fearful. A deep snow will sometimes
obstruct the railroad tracks, and persons living outside of the city are either unable to leave New York or are forced to spend the night on the cars. Again, the rivers will be so full of floating ice as to render it very dangerous, if not impossible, for the ferry boats to cross. At such times the railroad depots and ferry houses are crowded with persons anxiously awaiting transportation to their homes. The detention in New York, however, is not the greatest inconvenience caused by such mishaps.
To persons of means, New York offers more advantages as a place of residence than any city in the land. Its delightful climate, its cosmopolitan and metropolitan character, and the endless variety of its attractions and comforts, render it the most delightful home in America. Its people are warmly attached to and proud of it, and even strangers feel drawn towards it as to no other city save their own homes. Few persons care to leave it after a twelve-months’ residence within its limits, and those who are forced to go away generally find their way back at the earliest opportunity.
II. THE HARBOR OF NEW YORK.
The bay and harbor of New York are noted the world over for their beauty. When the discoverer, Henry Hudson, first gazed upon the glorious scene, he gave vent to the impulsive assertion that it was “a very good land to fall in with, and a pleasant land to see,” and there are few who will venture to differ from him.
To enjoy the wonderful beauty of the bay, one should enter it from the ocean; and it is from the blue water that we propose to begin our exploration.
Nineteen miles from the City of New York, on the western side of the bay, is a low, narrow, and crooked neck of sand, covered in some places with a dense growth of pine and other hardy trees. This neck is called Sandy Hook, and its curve encloses a pretty little bay, known as the Cove. On the extreme end of the point, which commands the main ship channel, the General Government is erecting a powerful fort, under the guns of which every vessel entering the bay must pass. There is also a lighthouse near the fort, and within the last few years a railway depot has been built on the shore of the Cove. Passengers from New York for Long Branch are transferred from the steamer to the cars at this place, the road running along the sea-shore to Long Branch. To the westward of Sandy Hook, on the Jersey shore, are the finely wooded and picturesque Highlands of Nevesink, and at their feet the Shrewsbury River flows into the bay, while some miles to the eastward are the shining sands and white houses of Rockaway Beach and Fire Island. Seven miles out at sea, tosses the Sandy Hook Light Ship, marking the point from which vessels must take their course in entering the bay.
Leaving Sandy Hook, our course is a little to the northwest. The New Jersey shore is on our left, and we can see the dim outlines of Port Monmouth and Perth Amboy and South Amboy in the far distance, while to the right Coney Island and its hotels are in full sight. Back of these lie the low shores of Long Island, dotted with pretty suburban villas and villages. A few miles above Sandy Hook we pass the Quarantine station in the Lower Bay, with the fleet of detained vessels clustering about the hospital ships.
Straight ahead, on our left, is a bold headland, sloping away from east to west, towards the Jersey coast. This is Staten Island, a favorite resort for New Yorkers, and taken up mainly with their handsome country seats. The bay here narrows rapidly, and the shores of Staten and Long Islands are scarcely a mile apart. This passage is famous the world over as The Narrows, and connects the Inner and Lower Bays. The shores are high on either side, but the Staten Island side is a bold
headland, the summit of which is over one hundred feet above the water. These high shores constitute the protection which the Inner Bay enjoys from the storms that howl along the coast. It is to them also that New York must look for protection in the event of a foreign war. Here are the principal fortifications of the city, and whichever way we turn the shores bristle with guns. On the Long Island shore is Fort Hamilton, an old but powerful work, begun in 1824, and completed in 1832, at a cost of $550,000. The main work mounts eighty heavy guns; but since the Civil War, additional batteries, some of them armed with Rodman guns, have been erected. A little above Fort Hamilton, and a few hundred yards from the shore, is Fort Lafayette, built on a shoal known as Hendricks’ Reef. It was begun during the war of 1812, cost $350,000, and was armed with seventy-three guns. It was used during the Civil War as a jail for political prisoners. In December, 1868, it was destroyed by fire, and the Government is now rebuilding it upon a more formidable scale. The Staten Island shore is lined with guns. At the water’s edge is a powerful casemated battery, known as Fort Tompkins, mounting forty heavy guns. The bluff above is crowned with a large and formidable looking work, also of granite, known as Fort Richmond, mounting one hundred and forty guns. To the right and left of the fort, are Batteries Hudson, Morton, North Cliff, and South Cliff; mounting about eighty guns of heavy calibre. It is stated that the new work on Sandy Hook will be armed with two hundred guns, which will make the defensive armament of the Lower Bay and Narrows over six hundred and thirteen guns, which, together with the fleet of war vessels that could be assembled for the protection of the city, would render the capture of New York by an enemy’s fleet a hazardous, if not impracticable, undertaking.
Passing through The Narrows, we enter the Inner Bay. New York, Brooklyn and Jersey City are in full sight to the northward, with the Hudson stretching away in the distance. The bay is crowded with shipping of all kinds, from the fussy little tug-boat to the large, grim-looking man-of-war. As we sail on, the scene becomes more animated. On the left are the
picturesque heights of Staten Island, dotted thickly with country-seats, cottages, and pretty towns, and on the left the heavily-wooded shores of Long Island abound with handsome villas.
Soon Staten Island is passed, and we see the white lighthouse standing out in the water, which marks the entrance to the Kill Van Kull, or Staten Island Sound; and, far to the westward, we can faintly discern the shipping at Elizabethport. We are now fairly in the harbor of New York, with the great city directly in front of us, Brooklyn on our right, and Jersey City on our left. To the northward, the line of the Hudson melts away in the distant blue sky, and to the right the East River is lost in the shipping and houses of the two cities it separates. The scene is gay and brilliant. The breeze is fresh and delightful; the sky as clear and blue as that of Italy, and the bay as bright and beautiful as that of Naples, and even more majestic. As far as the eye can reach on either side of the Hudson extend the long lines of shipping, while the East River is a perfect forest of masts. Here are steamboats and steamships, sailing vessels, barges, and canal boats—every sort of craft known to navigation. The harbor is gay with the flags of all nations. Dozens of ferry boats are crossing and recrossing from New York to the opposite shores. Ships are constantly entering and leaving port, and the whole scene bears the impress of the energy and activity that have made New York the metropolis of America.
At night the scene is indescribably beautiful. The myriad stars in the sky above are reflected in the dark bosom of the harbor. The dim outlines of the shores are made more distinct by the countless rows of lights that line them, and the many colored lamps of the ferry-boats, as they dart back and forth over the waters, give to the scene a sort of gala appearance.
There are several islands in the harbor, which have been entirely given up to the United States Government for military purposes. The largest of these is Governor’s Island, formerly the property of the redoubtable Wouter Van Twiller, and still called after him. It lies midway between New York and Brooklyn, at the mouth of the East River. It embraces an area of seventy-two acres, and is one of the principal military posts in
the harbor. Fort Columbus, in the centre of the island, is the principal work. Castle William, on the west end, is a semi-circular work, with three tiers of guns. Two strong batteries defend the passage known as Buttermilk Channel, between the island and Brooklyn. In the early days of the Dutch colony, this passage could be forded by cattle; now it is passable by ships of war. These works are armed with upwards of 200 heavy guns. Ellis Island, 2050 yards southwest from the Battery Light-House, contains Fort Gibson, mounting about twenty guns. Bedloe’s Island, 2950 yards southwest of the Battery Light-House, contains Fort Wood, which is armed with eighty guns.
The best point from which to view the Inner Bay is the Battery Park, from the sea-wall of which an uninterrupted view of the bay and both rivers may be obtained.
III. THE CITY GOVERNMENT.
By the terms of the charter of 1870, the government of the City of New York is vested in a Mayor, Common Council, consisting of Aldermen and Assistant Aldermen, a Corporation Counsel, and Comptroller, all elected by the people. There are also a Department of Public Works, which has charge of the streets of the city, and the Croton Aqueduct and Reservoirs; a Department of Docks, charged with the construction of new piers, etc., along the harbor front; a Department of Public Parks; a Fire Department; a Health Department; and a Police Board. The heads of all these Departments are appointed by the Mayor of the city. Previous to 1870 the city was governed by a series of commissions appointed by the Governor of the State, and the citizens were deprived of all voice in the management of their own affairs. It was urged by the friends of the New Charter, that that instrument restored to the citizens of New York the right of self-government. Had its provisions been honestly carried out, New York might have had a good government; but we shall see that they were perverted by a band of corrupt men into the means of the grossest oppression of the citizens.
For many years it was the habit of the respectable and educated classes of New York to abstain from voting. Many, indeed, boasted that they were utterly indifferent to politics; that it was immaterial to them which party elected its candidates. Others thought that they could not spare the time; and others still would not spare it. Again, there were those whose refined tastes made them shrink from the coarse rabble that surrounded the voting places. The reasons were almost as numerous as the delinquents, and the result was that the best portion of the voters
of the city—those who were most interested in a good government—left the control of public affairs entirely in the hands of the worst and most vicious classes. As a natural consequence, the suffrage being exercised chiefly by the ignorant and degraded, corrupt men availed themselves of the opportunity afforded them, and, by bribery and kindred practices, managed to secure their election to power. Once in office, they exerted themselves to remain there. They were the rulers of the great Metropolis of the Union, and, as such, possessed power and influence unequalled in any city in the world. They controlled the public funds, and thus had an opportunity of enriching themselves by robbing the people. They held in their grasp all the machinery of elections, and, by filling the ballot-boxes with fraudulent votes, and throwing out those which were legally cast, they could, they believed, perpetuate their power. If their strength in the Legislature of the State was inadequate to the passage of the laws they favored, they robbed the city treasury to buy up the members of the Legislature opposed to them, and it was found that rural virtue was easily purchased at city prices. In this way they secured the enactment of laws tending not only to enlarge and perpetuate their powers, and to increase their opportunities for plunder, but also to bar the way of the people should they awake from their criminal carelessness, and seek to overthrow and punish them. It mattered very little to the men who ruled the city of New York how the elections were decided in the rural districts. They could always swell their vote in the city to an extent sufficient to overcome any hostile majority in the State; and they even boasted that they cared not how many votes were cast against them in the city, as long as they “had the counting of them.” In this way they filled the statute-book with laws for the oppression and injury of the people, and in this way they passed the New Charter of 1870, which they declared was meant to restore self-government to New York, but which was really designed to continue themselves in power, and break down the last obstacles between themselves and the city treasury.
In well-regulated municipal governments, the popular branch,
the Common Council, is designed to act, and does act, as a check upon the Executive branch. In New York, a Common Council which thoroughly represented the people of the city—the great commercial, social, and political Metropolis of the Union—would have given the Executive branch of the City Government no little trouble; but the respectable citizens were indifferent to the selection of Councilmen, and the “Ring” took care that the majority of the “City Fathers” were creatures of their own, under obligations to them, and ready to sustain them in any outrage upon the people.
The Common Council of the City of New York can hardly be termed a representative body. It does not represent the honestly gotten wealth of the city; for, though many of its members are wealthy, people look with suspicion upon a rich Councilman. It does not represent the proud intellectual character of New York; for there is scarcely a member who has intellect or education enough to enable him to utter ten sentences in good English. For many years the Councils have been composed of small tradesmen, who found politics more profitable than their legitimate callings, of bar-keepers, of men without social position in the city they professed to represent, and many of whom were suspected of dishonest and corrupt practices by their fellow-citizens. Indeed, it may be said, that, with a very few exceptions, there was not a man in this important body who possessed the respect or confidence of the citizens of New York. They were elected by bribery and corruption, maintained their positions by the same means, and enjoyed the favor and protection of the leaders of their party, only by aiding the execution and covering up from investigation the schemes of those men for their mutual engorgement at the expense of the public treasury.
Mr. James Parton gives the following account of the proceedings of this worshipful body:
“Debates is a ludicrous word to apply to the proceedings of the Councilmen. Most of the business done by them is pushed through without the slightest discussion, and is of such a nature that members cannot be prepared to discuss it. The most reckless haste marks every part of the performance. A member
proposes that certain lots be provided with curbstones; another, that a free drinking hydrant be placed on a certain corner five miles up town; and another, that certain blocks of a distant street be paved with Belgian pavement. Respecting the utility of these works, members generally know nothing, and can say nothing; nor are they proper objects of legislation. The resolutions are adopted, usually, without a word of explanation, and at a speed that must be seen to be appreciated.
* * * * *
“At almost every session we witnessed scenes like the following: A member proposed to lease a certain building for a city court at $2000 a year for ten years. Honest Christopher Pullman, a faithful and laborious public servant, objected on one or two grounds; first, rents being unnaturally high, owing to several well-known and temporary causes, it would be unjust to the city to fix the rent at present rates for so long a period; secondly, he had been himself to see the building, had taken pains to inform himself as to its value, and was prepared to prove that $1200 a year was a proper rent for it even at the inflated rates. He made this statement with excellent brevity, moderation, and good temper, and concluded by moving that the term be two instead of ten years. A robust young man, with a bull neck and of ungrammatical habits, said, in a tone of impatient disdain, that the landlord of the building had ‘refused’ $1500 a year for it. ‘Question!’ ‘Question!’ shouted half a dozen angry voices; the question was instantly put, when a perfect war of noes voted down Mr. Pullman’s amendment. Another hearty chorus of ayes consummated the iniquity. In all such affairs, the visitor notices a kind of ungovernable propensity to vote for spending money, and a prompt disgust at any obstacle raised or objection made. The bull-necked Councilman of uncertain grammar evidently felt that Mr. Pullman’s modest interference on behalf of the tax-payer was a most gross impertinence. He felt himself an injured being, and his companions shared his indignation.
“We proceed to another and better specimen: A resolution was introduced, appropriating $4000 for the purpose of
presenting stands of colors to five regiments of city militia, which were named, each stand to cost eight hundred dollars. Mr. Pullman, as usual, objected, and we beg the reader to mark his objections. He said that he was a member of the committee which had reported the resolution, but he had never heard of it till that moment, the scheme had been ‘sprung’ upon him. The chairman of the committee replied to this, that, since the other regiments had had colors given them by the city, he did not suppose that any one could object to these remaining five receiving the same compliment, and therefore he had not thought it worth while to summon the gentleman. ‘Besides,’ said he, ‘it is a small matter anyhow;’—by which he evidently meant to intimate that the objector was a very small person. To this last remark, a member replied, that he did not consider $4000 so very small a matter. ‘Anyhow,’ he added, ‘we oughter save the city every dollar we kin.’ Mr. Pullman resumed. He stated that the Legislature of the State, several months before, had voted a stand of colors to each infantry regiment in the State; that the distribution of these colors had already begun; that the five regiments would soon receive them; and that, consequently, there was no need of their having the colors which it was now proposed to give them. A member roughly replied, that the colors voted by the State Legislature were mere painted banners, ‘of no account.’ Mr. Pullman denied this. ‘I am,’ said he, ‘captain in one of our city regiments. Two weeks ago we received our colors. I have seen, felt, examined, and marched under them; and I can testify that they are of great beauty, and excellent quality, made by Tiffany & Co., a firm of the first standing in the city.’ He proceeded to describe the colors as being made of the best silk, and decorated in the most elegant manner. He further objected to the price proposed to be given for the colors. He declared that, from his connection with the militia, he had become acquainted with the value of such articles, and he could procure colors of the best kind ever used in the service for $375. The price named in the resolution was, therefore, most excessive. Upon this, another member rose and said, in a
peculiarly offensive manner, that it would be two years before Tiffany & Co. had made all the colors, and some of the regiments would have to wait all that time. ‘The other regiments,’ said he, ‘have had colors presented by the city, and I don’t see why we should show partiality.’ Whereupon Mr. Pullman informed the board that the city regiments would all be supplied in a few weeks; and, even if they did have to wait awhile, it was of no consequence, for they all had very good colors already. Honest Stephen Roberts then rose, and said that this was a subject with which he was not acquainted, but that if no one could refute what Mr. Pullman had said, he should be obliged to vote against the resolution.
“Then there was a pause. The cry of ‘Question!’ was heard. The ayes and noes were called. The resolution was carried by eighteen to five. The learned suppose that one-half of this stolen $4000 was expended upon the colors, and the other half divided among about forty persons. It is conjectured that each member of the Councilmen’s Ring, which consists of thirteen, received about forty dollars for his vote on this occasion. This sum, added to his pay, which is twenty dollars per session, made a tolerable afternoon’s work.
“Any one witnessing this scene would certainly have supposed that now the militia regiments of the City of New York were provided with colors. What was our surprise to hear, a few days after, a member gravely propose to appropriate $800 for the purpose of presenting the Ninth Regiment of New York Infantry with a stand of colors. Mr. Pullman repeated his objections, and recounted anew the generosity of the State Legislature. The eighteen, without a word of reply, voted for the grant as before. It so chanced that, on our way up Broadway, an hour after, we met that very regiment marching down with its colors flying; and we observed that those colors were nearly new. Indeed, there is such a propensity in the public to present colors to popular regiments, that some of them have as many as five stands, of various degrees of splendor. There is nothing about which Councilmen need feel so little anxiety as a deficiency in the supply of regimental colors. When, at last,
these extravagant banners voted by the corporation are presented to the regiments, a new scene of plunder is exhibited. The officers of the favored regiment are invited to a room in the basement of the City Hall, where city officials assist them to consume $300 worth of champagne, sandwiches, and cold chicken—paid for out of the city treasury—while the privates of the regiment await the return of their officers in the unshaded portion of the adjacent park.
“It is a favorite trick with these councilmen, as of all politicians, to devise measures, the passage of which will gratify large bodies of voters. This is one of the advantages proposed to be gained by the presentation of colors to regiments; and the same system is pursued with regard to churches and societies. At every one of the six sessions of the Councilmen which we attended, resolutions were introduced to give away the people’s money to wealthy organizations. A church, for example, is assessed $1000 for the construction of a sewer, which enhances the value of the church property by at least the amount of the assessment. Straightway, a member from that neighborhood proposes to console the stricken church with a ‘donation’ of $1000, to enable it to pay the assessment; and as this is a proposition to vote money, it is carried as a matter of course. We select from our notes only one of these donating scenes. A member proposed to give $2000 to a certain industrial school,—the favorite charity of the present time, to which all the benevolent most willingly subscribe. Vigilant Christopher Pullman reminded the board that it was now unlawful for the corporation to vote money for any object not specified in the tax levy as finally sanctioned by the Legislature. He read the section of the Act which forbade it. He further showed, from a statement by the Comptroller, that there was no money left at their disposal for any miscellaneous objects, since the appropriation for ‘city contingencies’ was exhausted. The only reply to his remarks was the instant passage of the resolution by eighteen to five. By what artifice the law is likely to be evaded in such cases, we may show further on. In all probability, the industrial school, in the course of the year, will receive a fraction of
this money—perhaps even so large a fraction as one half. It may be that, ere now, some obliging person about the City Hall has offered to buy the claim for $1000, and take the risk of the hocus-pocus necessary for getting it—which to him is no risk at all.
“It was proposed, on another occasion, to raise the fees of the Inspectors of Weights and Measures—who received fifty cents for inspecting a pair of platform scales, and smaller sums for scales and measures of less importance. Here was a subject upon which honest Stephen Roberts, whose shop is in a street where scales and measures abound, was entirely at home. He showed, in his sturdy and strenuous manner, that, at the rates then established, an active man could make $200 a day. ‘Why,’ said he, ‘a man can inspect, and does inspect, fifty platform scales in an hour.’ The cry of ‘Question!’ arose. The question was put, and the usual loud chorus of ayes followed.
“As it requires a three-fourths vote to grant money—that is, eighteen members—it is sometimes impossible for the Ring to get that number together. There is a mode of preventing the absence, or the opposition of members, from defeating favorite schemes. It is by way of ‘reconsideration.’ The time was when a measure distinctly voted down by a lawful majority was dead. But, by this expedient, the voting down of a measure is only equivalent to its postponement to a more favorable occasion. The moment the chairman pronounces a resolution lost, the member who has it in charge moves a reconsideration; and, as a reconsideration only requires the vote of a majority, this is invariably carried. By a rule of the board, a reconsideration carries a measure over to a future meeting—to any future meeting which may afford a prospect of its passage. The member who is engineering it watches his chance, labors with faltering members out of doors, and, as often as he thinks he can carry it, calls it up again, until at last the requisite eighteen are obtained. It has frequently happened that a member has kept a measure in a state of reconsideration for months at a time, waiting for the happy moment to arrive. There was a robust young
Councilman, who had a benevolent project in charge of paying $900 for a hackney-coach and two horses, which a drunken driver drove over the dock into the river one cold night last winter. There was some disagreement in the Ring on this measure, and the robust youth was compelled to move for many reconsiderations. So, also, it was long before the wires could be all arranged to admit of the appointment of a ‘messenger’ to the City Librarian, who has perhaps less to do than any man in New York who is paid $1800 a year; but perseverance meets its reward. We hear that this messenger is now smoking in the City Hall at a salary of $1500.
“There is a manoeuvre also for preventing the attendance of obnoxious, obstructive members, like the honest six, which is ingenious and effective. A ‘special meeting’ is called. The law declares that notice of a special meeting must be left at the residence or the place of business of every member. Mr. Roberts’s residence and Mr. Roberts’s place of business are eight miles apart, and he leaves his home for the day before nine in the morning. If Mr. Roberts’s presence at a special meeting, at 2 P.M., is desired, the notice is left at his shop in the morning. If it is not desired, the notice is sent to his house in Harlem, after he has left it. Mr. Pullman, cabinet-maker, leaves his shop at noon, goes home to dinner, and returns soon after one. If his presence at the special meeting, at 2 P.M., is desired, the notice is left at his house the evening before, or at his shop in the morning. If his presence is not desired, the notice is left at his shop a few minutes after twelve, or at his house a few minutes past one. In either case, he receives the notice too late to reach the City Hall in time. We were present in the Councilmen’s Chamber when Mr. Pullman stated this inconvenience, assuming that it was accidental, and offered an amendment to the rule, requiring notice to be left five hours before the time named for the meeting. Mr. Roberts also gave his experience in the matter of notices, and both gentlemen spoke with perfect moderation and good temper. We wish we could convey to our readers an idea of the brutal insolence with which Mr. Pullman, on this occasion, was snubbed and defrauded by
a young bar-keeper who chanced to be in the chair. But this would be impossible without relating the scene at very great length. The amendment proposed was voted down, with that peculiar roar of noes which is always heard in that chamber when some honest man attempts to put an obstacle in the way of the free plunder of his fellow-citizens.
“These half-fledged legislators are acquainted with the device known by the name of the ‘previous question.’ We witnessed a striking proof of this. One of the most audacious and insolent of the Ring introduced a resolution, vaguely worded, the object of which was to annul an old paving contract, that would not pay at the present cost of labor and materials, and to authorize a new contract at higher rates. Before the clerk had finished reading the resolution, honest Stephen Roberts sprang to his feet, and, unrolling a remonstrance with several yards of signatures appended to it, stood, with his eye upon the chairman, ready to present it the moment the reading was concluded. This remonstrance, be it observed, was signed by a majority of the property-owners interested, the men who would be assessed to pay for one-half of the proposed pavement. Fancy the impetuous Roberts, with the document held aloft, the yards of signatures streaming down to his feet, and flowing far under his desk, awaiting the time when it would be in order to cry out, ‘Mr. President.’ The reading ceased. Two voices were heard shouting, ‘Mr. President.’ It was not to Mr. Roberts that an impartial chairman could assign the floor. The member who introduced the resolution was the one who caught the speaker’s eye, and that member, forewarned of Mr. Roberts’s intention, moved the previous question. It was in vain that Mr. Roberts shouted ‘Mr. President;’ it was in vain that he fluttered his streaming ribbon of blotted paper. The President could not hear a word of any kind until a vote had been taken upon the question whether the main question should now be put. The question was carried in the affirmative by a chorus of ayes, so exactly timed that it was like the voice of one man. Then the main question was put, and it was carried by another emphatic and simultaneous shout.”
Under the rule of such a Council the public money disappeared. Men who went into the Council poor came out of it rich. Taxes increased, the cost of governing the city became greater, crime flourished, and the chief city of the Union became noted for its corrupt government.