Lights and Shadows of New York Life

J >> James D. McCabe >> Lights and Shadows of New York Life

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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."