HIS PARENTAGE AND EARLY LIFE—SCHOOL DAYS—EMPLOYED BY JAMES GORDON BENNETT—APPRENTICED TO JACOB B. CREAMER—DAVID C. BRODERICK—KELLY, CAPTAIN OF EMMET GUARDS—ATHLETIC SPORTS—HIS FONDNESS FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS—RELIGIOUS STRIFE—A BATTLE AT THE POLLS—KELLY AS LEADER—THE KNOW-NOTHING PARTY.
John Kelly was born in the city of New York, April 20, 1822. The home of his parents and spot of his nativity was in Hester Street near Mott, in the old Sixth, afterwards changed into the Fourteenth Ward, famous for its politicians. He springs from that stalwart race of men who have played so conspicuous a part in the history of the United States—Tyrone County Irishmen. From Tyrone County came Richard Montgomery, whom Bancroft places second only to Washington as the military genius of the Revolutionary War; thence also came Alexander Porter, the illustrious Louisiana statesman, and one of the great lights of the United States Senate in its palmiest days. Archbishop Hughes, who left his impress on the age in which he lived as one of its most remarkable men, and General James Shields, one of the heroes of two American wars, who enjoyed the unprecedented distinction of having been elected to the United States Senate at various times by three great States of the Union, were both emigrants from Tyrone County, Ireland. Out of this Milesian hive, seeking his fortunes in the New World in the early part of the present century, came Hugh Kelly, father of the subject of this memoir. He married Sarah Donnelly, of County Fermanagh, a small county adjoining Tyrone. The marriage took place in Ireland. There were seven children born to the parents, of whom John was the fourth. The others were five daughters and a son, the last named after the father, Hugh. Old New Yorkers, who were acquainted with the mother of John Kelly, have informed the writer of this memoir that she was a woman of remarkable force of character, a devout Christian, and a mother who brought up her children in the love and fear of God. The children were all vivacious, and very communicative among themselves in the family circle, with the exception of John, who was quiet and thoughtful, and a better listener than talker. On one occasion a neighbor paid a visit to the Kellys, and brought news of an excursion, a pic-nic, or some such affair, that pleased and greatly excited the little ones, each of whom, save John, had something to say about it. At length the neighbor looked over at John, who had remained a silent listener, and exclaimed, “Look at John there, with his big head, taking it all in, and not saying a word.” “Oh, yes,” said the mother, “that is his way; he thinks a great deal more than he talks, but be sure he is not dumb.” A New York newspaper once cynically characterized him as an ox, but the dumb ox, to use the figure of Albertus Magnus, has given a bellow which has been heard round the world. The devotion of Mrs. Kelly to her elder son was peculiarly tender. At one time, when he was a small boy, he had to cross the East River daily. The mother would often accompany him to the boat in the morning, and always went to meet him on his return in the afternoon. Other boys going and returning at the same time observed that young Kelly’s mother never failed to be at the landing in the afternoon to accompany her son home. The mischievous boys sometimes cracked jokes at his expense, and teased him about his mother’s apron strings. He stood the bantering well enough for a time, but at length grew tired of it. One of the tallest and strongest of the boys hearing that Kelly had threatened to thrash the next fellow that annoyed him on the subject, took it into his head to try his mettle. “Say, Kelly,” exclaimed this one, “how’s your mother? Boys, he’s got a good mother, sure. She won’t let him go running about the streets with the gang for fear he might learn something wicked, but comes for him and takes her little boy home every night. Come along, Johnny, and be tucked in your little bed. Bah!” A flushed face and clenched fist told that Kelly would stand no more raillery of that sort. A smart battle took place on the spot between the two youngsters, and ended in the discomfiture of the larger boy. Kelly’s victory made him a favorite among his companions, and they all soon came to look upon him as a sort of leader, although he would not loiter with the crowd at street corners of evenings, nor haunt the purlieus of the city where youth loses its innocence, and flaunting vice slopes the way to ruin. Such a mother is a guardian angel to her children, and Mrs. Kelly’s afternoon escort to her son provoked no more jibes at the expense of the latter. This incident affords an insight into the methods of his boyhood, and shows how, under the fostering hand of his mother, the character of the future man was moulded. The American sin of cursing and swearing is first picked up by children running idly about the streets into all sorts of company. John Kelly was never addicted to this bad habit, and it may be doubted whether his most intimate friend of to-day ever heard him utter a profane oath. The Psalmist’s aspiration to walk soberly and chastely in the day before the Divine Face should be the aim of the rising generation. With that object in view children should be kept out of temptation in the pitfalls of a great city. After awhile, when the habits of a promising youth are formed on the right side, temptation assails him in vain, and whether it be from the cot of poverty or the mansion of wealth, a hero steps forth for life’s battle, who may be depended upon to make his way, and render a good account of himself.
In the case of young Kelly, it was from the cot of poverty he emerged. His father’s and mother’s business of a small retail grocery store afforded the family a modest but comfortable living. But while John was still a small boy of eight years his father died, and the widow and her elder son had to become the bread-winners—the former managing the store, and the latter, when about ten years old, going out in quest of employment. John had attended for some two or three years the parochial school attached to old St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Mott Street. Now he had to give up the school and go to work. It was a sore trial to him, for he was ambitious of book learning, and the dream of his life was to get a good education. But he started out with a brave resolution to seek employment. For a long time the search was tedious and unsuccessful. He had to take many surly replies from ill-bred people, and often went home tired at night after a fruitless day’s rounds, to begin the work over again in the morning. But he told his disappointments to no one, unless indeed to whisper them to the fond mother whose strong heart went out in such sympathy with his own, and whose sound practical sense helped him to form some new plan for the morrow. It is probable that the lesson he learned then of “man’s inhumanity to man” during his first humble trials to make his way in life was never forgotten. When the day came for himself to mount to power, and to be called upon by many young and old seeking a friendly hand to help them to their feet, John Kelly proved to be a real philanthropist, uttering the gentle word, cheering the drooping heart by the overflowing generosity and charity of his own, and never allowing a human being to pass out of his doorway without feeling better and stronger for having carried his sorrow to him.
One day John went into the Herald office, then in its infancy, and asked James Gordon Bennett whether he wanted an office boy. Mr. Bennett scanned the boy over from head to foot without making a reply. Seemingly satisfied with the first scrutiny, he began a conversation with him, which continued for five or ten minutes. There was no better judge of character than the elder Bennett, and he was always quick in making a decision. “Come in here, my lad, and take off your hat and get to work,” said he, and John Kelly found himself an employé forthwith of the great editor. No two men have ever made their mark more thoroughly in the metropolis of the United States than James Gordon Bennett and John Kelly. Did the editor descry in that first glance at the boy the latent powers which ultimately have made Kelly so distinguished? “It is said,” remarked the editor of the Utica Observer, in a notice of Mr. John Kelly in that paper, “that old James Gordon Bennett took a great fancy to him. This speaks much in his praise, for the founder of the Herald was quick to see the possibilities of greatness or usefulness in an undeveloped youth.”[1]
Evening schools then but recently had been established in New York, and the youth was quick to avail himself of the advantages they afforded to boys in his situation for acquiring an education. He became a regular attendant at one of those night schools, was a diligent and close student, and, like the great Sir Thomas More, “rather greedily devoured than leisurely chewed his grammar rules.” The editor of the Utica Observer, one of Mr. Kelly’s most energetic opponents and Governor Robinson’s ablest advocate in the press, during the celebrated New York gubernatorial struggle of 1879, declared of Kelly, in the heat of that campaign, and in an article containing an attack upon him, “that there is a great deal to admire in the character of John Kelly.” Of his education the editor added: “His thirst for learning had not been satisfied in his youth, and he proceeded by study to enlarge the scope of his understanding. He became a good scholar in French, as well as in English, and for twenty years he has devoted several hours of every day to the pursuit of literature and science. If anybody has imbibed the impression that Mr. Kelly is an ignorant man, he does not want to confront that delusion with an actual examination of Mr. Kelly’s acquirements. A Utica man who met him once in the presence of Prof. Bonamy Price, of Oxford, says that he held his own in a discussion on Political Economy with England’s foremost teacher of that science.”[2] He proved to be an excellent office-boy, was always at his post, and was as punctual as the clock in fulfilling engagements. He became a great favorite with Mr. Bennett, and when, at length, as he grew older he resolved to give up his employment in the Herald office in order to learn some regular business or trade, Mr. Bennett tried to dissuade him from his purpose, and offered additional compensation as an inducement for him to remain. But while greatly appreciating his employer’s kindness, young Kelly replied that his mother and her large family mainly looked to him, the elder brother, for support, and that it had always been his intention to go into business on his own account. The time had now come to carry out that purpose. Mr. Bennett, in his brusque but kindly Scotch voice, gave John some parting advice and wished him well, predicting that success awaited him in his future career. The boy now apprenticed himself to Jacob B. Creamer, a grate-setter and soap-stone cutter at 346 Broome Street, then on the corner of Broome and Elizabeth, and speedily learned that trade. He had grown to be a large boy, with the thews and sinews of a young Hercules, and although he was not quarrelsome, he was high spirited and courageous, and would brook no insult from anyone. In the factory where he worked there was another young man, three or four years older than himself, a dark complexioned powerful fellow, of a domineering temper, with a reputation for fisticuffs. One day this person got angry with Kelly and struck him. Kelly returned the blow. The men in the establishment separated them, but the blood of both was up, and a fight was agreed upon between them as soon as the bell should be rung for dinner. They went into the factory yard and prepared for battle. The hands about the establishment finding the boys meant to fight, undertook to secure fair play in the encounter. Kelly was much shorter than his antagonist, and no one supposed he had any chance to win. At it they went pell mell, with a lively interchange of heavy thuds. The older youth fought rapidly, and brought Kelly down several times with furious blows. Fighting was not allowed while either of the boys was on the ground, and in this way matters progressed for fifteen or twenty minutes, Kelly getting the worst of it all the time, but showing great endurance, and urging that no one should interfere. He had made thus far but very little impression on his antagonist. He observed, however, that one of his chance blows had caused the other to wince with pain. From that moment he took all the punishment the larger boy could inflict, and made the battle one of strategy, reserving himself to give a blow in the same place, which he found to be the other’s weak spot. The tide now began to turn, and it soon became evident to the onlookers that the big swarthy fellow was no match either in courage or endurance for Kelly. The latter, selecting the weak spot, laid his antagonist on his back several times by well-directed blows. The last time he fell both his strength and courage collapsed, and he bellowed out crying that he was whipped and would fight no more. One of the men who had witnessed the encounter with the closest attention from beginning to end, and saw that Kelly had won it by superior intelligence, now rushed up to him, and taking his hand exclaimed, “Well Johnny, my boy, you are a born general sure, and you will yet be a great general over men when you grow up to be a man yourself.” A few years ago an aged man entered Mr. Kelly’s crowded office at 117 Nassau street, and sent in his name with the rest. When his turn came he was admitted. “Do you not know me, Mr. Kelly?” said the old man. “No,” was the reply, “I do not recall you.” “Do you remember when you were a boy the fight you had with that big swarthy fellow in Creamer’s factory yard, when one of the men told you you would one day become a great general over men? Well, I was that very man, and didn’t I tell the truth, sir?” Mr. Kelly remembered the occurrence and his visitor too, immediately, whom he had not seen for many years, and laughed heartily over the reminiscence of his youth as he shook the old man’s hand.
He worked industriously at his new occupation, and is said to have displayed mechanical skill of no mean order. In due time he set up in business for himself, made friends rapidly, and secured an excellent line of custom. He became a prosperous young man, and was remarked upon for sobriety, modesty of deportment and attention to business. It was not long before he found himself able to branch out on a more extensive scale, for his friends were numerous and willing to lend him a helping hand when the needs of his business made it expedient to ask credit. While yet a very young man, his success was sufficiently assured to justify him in establishing a soap-stone and grate factory at 40 Elizabeth street, and he also opened an office where he took business orders, in a frame building on Broome street, next door to the church over which Dr. Maclay at that time presided, and of which Dr. Cohen, in subsequent years, became the pastor. Among his customers were Thomas O’Conor, father of Charles O’Conor, the lawyer; John A. Dix, afterward Governor of New York; Horace F. Clark, and many other influential people. John Kelly had now become a prosperous man. His first care was for the beloved mother who had shaped the days of his youth in the ways he should walk, but who departed this life in the most edifying sentiments of piety when he was quite a young man, scarcely twenty-one years of age. His next care was for his younger brother and five sisters, towards whom he acted as a father, and for whose education and welfare he was now able to provide in a suitable manner. His own early struggles for education had taught him to appreciate it highly in others, and he secured to his brother and sisters advantages which disciplined their youthful years and qualified them for the duties of after life. Later on he took his brother into partnership with him, but that brother and all his sisters, save one, Mrs. Thomas, who lives near Mexico, in Oswego County, New York, died many years ago. Mr. Kelly, as already mentioned, owed to his mother’s care the blessing of right training in his youth, and the consequent formation of his character in the practice of the Christian virtues. An old New Yorker who knew his mother, has told the writer she was a thorough disciplinarian, and taught her children to love the truth in all things, and that the beginning of wisdom is the fear of the Lord. His mother died before her son’s brilliant success began; she who had equipped him for the battle stayed not to enjoy its triumphs.
At this period of his life John Kelly had not a dream of ever entering upon a political career. In this respect he resembled another distinguished New York statesman, the late Daniel S. Dickinson, who began life as a mechanic, became a woollen manufacturer, and, beyond being an earnest Democrat, passed several years with no inclination whatever for the field of politics. It was true, however, that even from his boyhood John Kelly displayed rare capacity to lead others, and he now found himself, in spite of preoccupation in the manufacturing business, constantly called on by neighbors seeking his advice and instinctively following him. He was once asked by a newspaper reporter if he ever sowed wild oats in his youth. “That may be called a leading question,” he replied; “I was in a gambling-house once in my life, but it was on business—not to gamble. And I never was in a house of assignation in my life. I don’t know what the inside of such a house is.” “It is charged against you,” the reporter said, “that you attend church very regularly, and that you do it for effect.” “Well,” Mr. Kelly said, “that’s a queer charge to make against any one. I had a good careful mother who sent me to the Sunday-school regularly. I have been to church regularly ever since. Under such training, no doubt, I ought to be a great deal better Christian than I am. I suppose I have been very wicked sometimes, and yet I can’t recall any time when I have been wilfully bad.”[3]
“During Tweed’s ascendancy in New York politics,” said the well informed Utica editor, in the article already quoted from, “Mr. Kelly retired from Tammany Hall. Between him and Tweed the bitterest hostility always existed. It is pleasant to believe that Kelly’s superior virtue made him distasteful to the burly champion of corruption. But that does not account for their feud. During the glow of his guilty glory, Tweed’s ambition was to secure the endorsement of men of unimpeachable character. By turning back a page in political history, we might show how well he succeeded. But he could not make terms with John Kelly, for Mr. Kelly would accept no position but that of ruler. William M. Tweed swore a solemn oath that John Kelly never should control Tammany Hall—and we all know what came of it.”
Shortly before his death, while he was a prisoner in Ludlow Street Jail, Tweed was interviewed by a New York Herald reporter, and gave with undeserved freedom his impressions of the leading men he had known in politics. “Whom,” said the reporter, “do you regard as the most successful city politician of New York in the thirty years of your experience?” “John Kelly,” said Tweed. “He was always a plodder—always saving something and learning something. He stood well with the Church—rather a high class man in the Church—and got his support there. I never did but one thing for him; twenty years ago I helped him beat Walsh for Congress.” “When you came to politics,” asked the reporter, “did you ever remotely entertain the idea of such proportions as the Ring afterwards assumed?” “No,” said Tweed. “The fact is, New York politics were always dishonest—long before my time. There never was a time when you couldn’t buy the Board of Aldermen, except now. If it wasn’t for John Kelly’s severity, you could buy them now.”[4]
The reporter of the World, with an odd sort of unconscious humor in his interview, not unlike Tweed’s commercial valuation of piety as an investment, so naively suggested by the words, “rather a high class man in the Church,” bluntly told Mr. Kelly that it was not only complained against him that he attended Church, but that he aggravated the matter by attending it very regularly. No wonder Kelly should have thought that a “queer charge” to make against him.