It was at this juncture the Native American party in the city of New York again threatened the destruction of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The New York Courier and Enquirer, and Evening Express fanned the passions of the people to white heat by appeals to sectarian and race prejudices. But there was a man then at the head of the Catholic Church in New York who possessed many of the qualities for which Andrew Jackson was distinguished. Bishop Hughes belonged to the tribe of the lions. He perceived that it was the favorite policy of the Native Americans to make New York city an anti-foreign stronghold. There, Catholics and adopted citizens were powerful; crushed there, it would be an easy matter to prostrate them everywhere. In the month of May, 1844, the Native American leaders in New York, invited their brethren of Philadelphia, who had most distinguished themselves in the deplorable events in that city, to visit New York, and to bring with them emblems of the horrible scenes in Kensington at the time of the burning of the church of St. Augustine, the better to fire the New York heart. A delegation of Philadelphians promised to accept the invitation and carry on the emblems. A public reception, and a procession through the streets, were to take place. It became evident that the purpose of this sinister movement was to re-enact in New York the scenes which had just disgraced Philadelphia. Bishop Hughes took decisive action. He admonished Catholics to keep away from public meetings and unusual gatherings of the populace, and, to avoid in a special manner, all disturbers of the peace. That great man, in looking over the city for prudent and conservative persons to aid him in carrying out his policy of forbearance, found no one on whom he more implicitly relied, and who proved more effective in the emergency than John Kelly. Bishop Hughes and John Kelly’s father were natives of the same county and neighborhood in Ireland. Between the Bishop and his fellow countryman’s son a warm friendship existed. They were both endowed with minds of singular originality and power, both natural leaders of men, both possessed a remarkable hold on the respect and affections of the people. Among the Whigs, at this perilous juncture, Bishop Hughes also found several powerful supporters, chief among whom were William H. Seward, Horace Greeley and Thurlow Weed. As the time drew near for the Native American demonstration, popular excitement and fears of a terrible riot increased. Bishop Hughes now called on the Mayor of the city, Robert H. Morris, and advised him not to allow the demonstration to take place. “Are you afraid that some of your churches may be burned?” the Mayor asked. “No, sir, but I am afraid that some of yours will be burned,” the Bishop said; “we can protect our own. I came to warn you for your own good.” “Do you think, Bishop, that your people would attack the procession?” “I do not; but the Native Americans want to provoke a Catholic riot, and if they can do it in no other way, I believe they would not scruple to attack the procession themselves, for the sake of making it appear that the Catholics had assailed them.”
“What, then, would you have me do?” asked the Mayor. “I did not come to tell you what to do,” the Bishop said. “I am a Churchman, not the Mayor of New York; but if I were the Mayor, I would examine the laws of the State and see if there were not attached to the police force a battery of artillery, and a company or so of infantry, and a squadron of horse; and I think I should find that there were; and if so, I should call them out. Moreover, I should send to Mr. Harper, the Mayor-elect, who has been chosen by the votes of this party. I should remind him that these men are his supporters; I should warn him that if they carry out their designs there will be a riot; and I should urge him to use his influence in preventing the public reception of the delegates.”[5]
This characteristic stand of Bishop Hughes had its effect. No public reception of the church burners took place, but for nearly two weeks the Cathedral was guarded every night, and the mob which threatened its destruction was kept at bay. During those dark days Bishop Hughes found John Kelly to be one of the most prudent young men in the Cathedral parish, energetic in danger, conservative in conduct, and always responsive to the call of duty. His manly bearing then may be said to have laid the foundation of that enduring confidence in his judgment, and respect for his character, which the Bishop ever afterwards felt and expressed. Mr. Kelly was not a zealot, and there is not a tinge of bigotry in his nature. He was then, as he is now, a true liberal, and has always declared that religion and politics should be kept as wide apart as the poles. But he is the foe of intolerance, and while despising the arts of the demagogue, no man in New York has done more to uphold foreign citizens in their rights, and to emancipate the ballot-box from persecution on the one hand, and fraudulent voting on the other.
The Native American party finally developed into the notorious Know-Nothing movement, the party of grips, and signs, and dark-lanterns. In many of the election districts of New York no foreigner dared approach the polls. The primaries were even worse, and were conducted in defiant disregard of the election laws. In John Kelly’s ward, which was a fair illustration of every other ward in the city, any Irishman or German risked his life by going to the polls. Gangs of repeaters and thugs, as far as they could, kept all foreigners from the primaries. These tools of the Know-Nothing leaders would fill the room where the election was held, take possession of the line, crowd out their opponents by threats or violence, return again and again, force their way, after passing the spot where the votes were received, once more into the line, and repeat the farcical act of voting a second and third time, keeping up the villany until relieved by another squad of repeaters, who continued to enact the same scenes until the close of the polls. A friendly police force connived at these rascalities, and openly backed up the repeaters and ballot-box stuffers whenever a determined citizen, in the exercise of his rights, resisted expulsion from the line, or attempted to defend himself from assault. So great became the terror these law-breakers inspired, that opposition to them was practically at an end. This state of affairs was more humiliating, since the majority of voters in the Fourteenth Ward were known to be Democrats. John Kelly protested against these outrages as a private citizen, and at a meeting of Democrats declared his intention of attending the next primary election in the Fourteenth Ward, then near at hand, and exercising his right of voting at all hazards. Those who knew the man knew this was not an idle boast, but many tried to dissuade him from the rash attempt, which, if persisted in, would likely enough cost him his life.
The primary election was to take place in a hall, long since removed, in the march of the city, which then stood on the corner of Grand and Elizabeth Streets. The part of the room for the inspectors’ seats was protected by a high partition, and a box desk, like a bank teller’s window, with a hole only large enough for a voter’s hand to be put through in handing his ballot, to the receiving inspector, was placed at one side of the partition. A narrow path in the main room, fenced in by high rails, to allow but one voter to approach at a time, afforded the only means of access to the polls. When the voter handed in his ballot, that was the last he saw of it, as the partition effectually shut off observation from without. As a matter of fact it was the practice of the inspector to throw the vote into a waste basket, on the floor at his feet, if it was not of the approved sort. This mode of taking the vox populi had long been in practice, and was not only an open evasion of the statute, which provided for the presence of watchers for the several parties, whose legal right it was to see that all had a fair opportunity to vote, but it was adopted with the deliberate purpose of protecting the swindling inspectors from detection while engaged in the nefarious work of making way with legal ballots. On the day of the election John Kelly was early on the scene, and was accompanied by a large number of the lawful voters of the ward, who appointed him as their watcher at the polls. He and his friends forced their way into the hall, and as the black hole, behind which the frauds were practiced, was there in violation of the statute, it was straightway demolished, in order to secure at least a semblance of fairness to the voting about to take place. The Know-Nothings were at first struck dumb with astonishment at this bold step on the part of the Democrats. To defend themselves from violence was as much as the latter had previously attempted. Rage soon took the place of surprise, and a furious attack was made on those who had removed the box screen from about the inspectors’ desk. John Kelly, who had been recognized as a Democratic watcher, was also set upon by the gang of ballot-box stuffers. A fierce scuffle ensued. But the Democrats outnumbered the Know-Nothings, and drove them from the hall. The leaders of the latter party, uttering vows of vengeance, declared they would soon return with reinforcements, and make short work of Kelly and his party. They repaired to the ship-carpenters’ quarters at the foot of Delaney street, and soon the news of their discomfiture was spread abroad among the thousands of mechanics in that part of the city. These mechanics were, for the most part, engaged in ship building, for those were the days when New York’s famous clipper ships whitened the seas and brought back cargoes of commerce from all parts of the world. The ship carpenters constituted a formidable body of athletic men, whose influence at elections was cast on the side of the Know-Nothings. It was not long before a body of these mechanics, over a thousand in number, was drummed up in Delaney street and vicinity, and marshalled by notorious Know-Nothing bullies, the crowd started for the hall in Grand street to inflict condign punishment upon John Kelly and the Fourteenth Ward Democrats, who had shown the unprecedented audacity of interfering with the usual Know-Nothing methods of carrying elections in that ward. In the meantime the Democrats had not been idle, but had recruited their own ranks to prepare for the threatened attack. Soon the two parties came into collision, and a desperate encounter took place. But for a second time the victory remained with the Democrats. The Know-Nothings, unaccustomed to serious opposition, were not prepared for it now, and advanced in a promiscuous manner, expecting to bear down opposition and to have everything their own way. The Democrats presented a compact front, and fought in companies of ten each. The hall was cleared a second time of the assailing party. A great multitude was now gathered in the streets threatening to tear down or burn the building, when the Democrats suddenly sallied forth with the precision of veterans, and struck the Know-Nothing mob at a dozen different points simultaneously. The mob being gathered from all parts of the city greatly exceeded the Democrats in numbers, but the sub-divisions of tens on the part of the latter worked so well that their onslaught became irresistible. Soon the mob were flying in all directions, some seeking refuge in stores, others in private houses, and the rest were pursued into and through the Bowery with great impetuosity. “The hour was come and the man.” None knew it better than the Know-Nothing Dirk Hatteraicks of New York. The effect of that day’s work in the Fourteenth Ward was felt all over the city of New York for years afterwards, and its immediate consequence was to break the backbone of Know-Nothingism in the ward in which it occurred. Thereafter Democrats, whether native or foreign born, were not afraid to appear at election places. The moral effect was salutary. The timid were reassured, the indifferent were roused into interest in public affairs, and fair elections became more frequent in New York city. The one strong man who had worked this revolution was John Kelly. The Irish and German population looked upon him as their deliverer, and from that day forth the Know-Nothing power on the East side of the city dwindled into insignificance, and no further attempts to stifle the voice of the majority took place. Kelly became identified in the minds of the adopted citizens of all nationalities, but especially of the Irish, who were chiefly aimed at, as their champion. Henceforth it was not possible for this strong man, this born leader of his fellows, to follow the bent of his inclinations and remain in a private station. He was elected to the Board of Aldermen, and next to the Congress of the United States. The Know-Nothings, by their excesses in New York, had raised up an adversary to their oath-bound secret organization who was destined to accomplish as much in the Empire State for equal rights to all citizens, native and foreign-born, as Alexander H. Stephens, in a similar contest, wrought out in Georgia, and Henry A. Wise, by his great anti-Know-Nothing campaign accomplished in Virginia.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Utica Observer, Sept. 16, 1879.
[2] Utica Observer, Sept. 16, 1879.
[3] New York World, Oct. 18, 1875.
[4] New York Herald October 26, 1877.