Category Archives: Albany

Albany Institute Mechanical Drawing

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Albany Institute Mechanical DrawingAlbany Institue Mechanical Drawing Boys' Life 1916Mechanical Drawing Boys' Life 1922

 

Trying to solve one mystery always turns up at least three more. Searching around for something else, we came upon an advertisement in an old Boys’ Life magazine, of all things (the official publication of the Boy Scouts of America, for those who don’t know). It was for something we had never heard of before, a mail order instruction operation going by the moniker of “Albany Institute Mechanical Drawing.” Not “Institute of Mechanical Drawing.” Perhaps intended to give the impression of some connection to the venerable Albany Institute? We found several ads for it ranging from 1916 to 1922, in Boys’ Life, Popular Mechanics, Popular Science Monthly, and Everyday Engineering. All pretty much along the same lines, always to a post office box. No other mention do we find, so we have no idea whether this was really a going concern, an actual correspondence course or an out-and-out scam. A sideline for a local drafting instructor or bored architect? We can’t find a name associated with it anywhere.

The Albany Fire of 1793: A Racial Fire

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The memoirs of Henriette Lucie Dillon, Marquise de la Tour du Pin Gouvernet, touched on one of the most mysterious and unsettling events in Albany history, a mix of fear, fire and racial scapegoating. Her comments on this are enlightening as they certainly reflect the understanding given her by the Albany elites who hosted her at this time, Schuylers and Van Rensselaers, and instructive in the ways they vary from less heated accounts decades later, and of course from what modern minds suspect may actually have happened in the case of the fire of 1793. This is fairly disturbing stuff, and we’re obliged to use the language of the sources.

Nearly her first mention of Albany was that the city, “the capital of the state, had been almost entirely burned two years before by an insurrection of negroes. Slavery was not yet entirely abolished in the state of New York, except for children to be born during the year of 1794, and only when these had reached their twentieth year … One of these ‘blacks,’ a very worthless character, who had hoped that the act of the legislature would give him his liberty without conditions, resolved to be revenged. He enrolled several miserable fellows like himself, and on a fixed day arranged to set fire to the city, which at this time was constructed mainly of wood. This atrocious plan succeeded beyond their expectations. Fires were started in twenty places at once, and houses and stores, with their contents, were destroyed, notwithstanding the efforts of the inhabitants, at the head of whom labored the old General Schuyler, and all his family. A little negress, twelve years old, was arrested at the moment she was setting fire to a store with straw from the stable of her master. She revealed the names of her accomplices. The next day a court assembled upon the still smoking ruins, and condemned the black chief and six of his accomplices to be hung, which sentence was executed at once.”

We can perhaps forgive the Marquise for an imperfect memory, as she was writing these memoirs no sooner than 1820, and perhaps much later than that. And recall that she had lived through the Reign of Terror. So she may well not have remembered all the particulars … but what she did remember is telling: a conspiracy of slaves, mass arson, and Schuyler heroism. Coming to Albany as a guest of the Schuylers, who did her some very substantial favors, she would of course be inclined to believe and relate a Schuyler-centric view of events.

Writing in 1867, Albany’s chronicler Joel Munsell presented a somewhat different view of events from 70 years before, using an undated article from the Albany Evening Journal:

“Sunday, the 17th of November, 1793, was a day long remembered by the inhabitants of this city, and the few who still linger among us retain a vivid recollection of the scenes enacted during that night. The greater portion of the then quiet church-going people of that day had retired to rest, and were slumbering upon their pillows, when they were awakened by the alarming cry of fire … The fire originated in a barn or stable, belonging to Leonard Gansevoort, in the centre of the block then bounded by Market, State, Maiden and Middle lanes, in the rear of the store on State street now occupied by Hickcox and Co.”

It started in that stable, but quickly spread and destroyed that block.

“The fire laid waste all that portion of the city previously described, from the dwelling house and store of Daniel Hale, northerly to the dwelling house of Teunis T. Van Vechten, on the corner of Maiden lane and Market street (now Broadway), destroying on that street the dwelling houses and stores of D. Waters, John G. Van Schaick, E. Willet, John Maley, James Caldwell, Caldwell & Pearson, C. Glen, P.W. Douw, Maley & Cuyler, and Mrs. Beekman. On State street, there was consumed the dwelling house of T. Barry (then a new and considered an elegant brick building), the store house of G.W. Van Schaick; the house of C.K. Vanderberg, partly occupied by Giles K. Porter, merchant tailor; the dwelling of Leonard Gansevoort; the drug store of Dexter & Pomeroy, and the dwelling of Mrs. Hilton. In Middle lane, there were a large number of stables, all of which were consumed, greatly aiding in the spreading of the fire by the intense heat made by the burning of pitch-pine timber, which was used for building in those days. In Maiden lane the dwelling house of Mrs. Deforest and the new and spacious store house of Maley & Cuyler were destroyed, the latter firm being by far the heaviest losers by this calamity.”

The bucket brigade was called out (at that time, every house was required to have three leather water buckets), and two primitive fire engines were put to use. Wet blankets were put up on roofs, and at least one building was chopped down in order to check the progress of the flames. Cold rain followed by sleet probably did the most to put it out. Then began the scapegoating, and one of the most shameful episodes in Albany’s history.

“The fire was so plainly the work of an incendiary, that not only were several slaves arrested upon suspicion, but subsequently a meeting of the common council was held and an ordinance passed forbidding any negro or mulatto, of any sex, age or description whatever, from walking in the streets or lanes after 9 o’clock in the evening, or from being in any tavern or tippling house after that hour, under penalty of twenty-four hours confinement in the jail.”

After being jailed for 24 hours, then they could seek to prove that they were upon lawful and necessary business, if supported by their master or mistress (ignoring that there were free blacks). If they established that, they had to pay the jail expenses (!); if they failed, there was further fine and imprisonment.

As Munsell tells it, “tradition asserts” that a young man named Sanders, of Schenectady, had been seeking the attentions of Leonard Gansevoort’s daughter, but was rejected by her or her father. Apparently this was a high insult, and Sanders in some way enlisted a friend named McBurney who was a jeweler in State street in Albany. McBurney, in turn, called on a slave named Pomp (or Pompey), who served Matthew Visscher, and promised a gold watch for anyone who would set fire to Gansevoort’s stable on a certain night. Pomp, it was written, either lacked the “moral courage to commit the act,” or preferred not to have it associated with him and so he enlisted two female slaves. One was Bet, 16 or 17 years old, who served Philip S. Van Rensselaer; the other was Dinah (often given as Dean), about the same age, served Volkert Douw.

“After Pomp had concluded the negotiations with the girls, to commit the arson, he apparently became alarmed, and fearing the consequences that might ensue, endeavored to prevail upon them to relinquish the thought of committing the fiendish act. The same evening, Pomp was seen in his master’s stable, in company with the girls, endeavoring to persuade them from doing it, and a short time previous to the breaking out of the fire he was seen with them in Middle alley, talking to them in a supplicating tone of voice. In fact he was overhead to say, that he would not give them the watch if they committed the deed.”

Boy, does that not add up. Munsell’s account gets a little confusing, saying that Bet carried live coals from the kitchen of Mr. Gansevoort to his barn in an old shoe, and threw them upon the hay. It didn’t take as quickly as she expected, so she brought more coals, and this time “the conflagration speedily ensued.” Then Munsell seems to say there were two different fires, which doesn’t match up with any other accounts we found. He says that the next day “after the fire of the 17th these same girls set on fire the stable of Peter Gansevoort in the rear of his house, on the corner of Market street (now Broadway) and Maiden lane, which was also destroyed, and the same evening visited the house on the opposite corner, and attempted to set it on fire by putting coals of fire in a bureau drawer containing clothes. It did not succeed for want of air.” Whether this somehow came from one of the girls’ confessions, or from Pomp’s stories, it is not clear, but all other accounts say the fire was on the 17th, making this part of the tale inconsistent.

Other (later) accounts say that Bet and Dinah took live coals from Douw’s house, and went with Pomp to the Gansevoort stable, where Pomp put the coals into a pile of hay. From a distance, this seems more reasonable.

Shortly after the fire, Bet and Dinah were arrested. They admitted guilt and implicated Pomp, who was also then arrested. There was a rush to judgment, and from judgment to execution. At trial in January 1794, the girls pled guilty; Pomp professed his innocence. “The girls were executed in the following spring [March 14] on Pinkster hill, which was then a few rods west of the Academy, or about on the corner of Fayette and Hawk streets. The revelations [a later confession] made by Pomp were given to Gov. Clinton, and a few months after the execution of the wenches, Pomp suffered the extreme penalty of the law upon the same spot [April 11]. Sanders and McBurney were not arrested, for there was no evidence against them except the assertions of Pomp, and he being implicated in the crime his evidence could not be taken.”

The fire and resulting executions have been the subjects of modern articles and even dramatic vignettes. The idea that Bet and Dinah (also given as Dean) would have insisted on going through with the act, over the protests of Pomp, is clearly nonsense, probably taken from one of Pomp’s declarations of innocence. None of the three had any known grievance against Gansevoort.

So from this, as a number of other writers have noted, were passed the aforementioned restrictions on the movements of African-Americans. This has sometimes been grouped with slave rebellions, although it was clearly nothing of the sort. In fact, a brief entry in the Encyclopedia of Slave Resistance and Rebellion, Volume 1, charges that Pompey was hired to set the fire by “five white men who had a grudge against the landowner . . . An explanation of the grudge is suggested by contemporary accounts that show Thomas Bissbrown, watchmaker, had recently moved his shop from a prominent location, rented from Leonard Gansevoort, to a less advantageous one. A rival watchmaker, newly arrived in Albany, was in Bissbrown’s former location.” (This version of events seems to come from a 1977 article in the Journal of Black Studies, “Black Arson in Albany, New York, November 1793.”) But Munsell’s account gives no mention of this watchmakers’ rivalry.

And somehow, many years later, the Marquise had converted these events into something really quite different, almost entirely removed from the facts. An act of hired revenge was turned into a plot to burn the city as a redress for slavery, with fires started in 20 places at once. The actions of three teenage slaves became those of a large mob, and Bet became even younger than she really was. A trial and later execution, stayed at least once by the governor, became summary judgment and instant execution. What was, of course, a terrifying event for all concerned became something not driven by either a jilted (white) lover or an angered (white) businessman, but instead by angry slaves, who served as convenient scapegoats.

The Resting Place of Séraphine

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A couple of eagle-eyed (or elephant-memoried) readers were already familiar with the story of Henriette Lucie Dillon, Marquise de la Tour du Pin Gouvernet, whose “Journal d’une femme de cinquante ans” has been the subject of our last several entries. And they were also familiar with an article about the Marquise and her former homestead that ran in the Knickerbocker News back in 1937, when Dr. J Lewi Donhauser owned the property.

The headline was “Letter Discloses Details of Two-Year Residence at Newtonville Estate of Lady-in-Waiting to Marie Antoinette, Refugee from French Revolution.” The article starts with sadness:

“Somewhere in an unmarked grave on the summer estate of Dr. J. Lewi Donhauser, just off Fiddler’s Lane near Newtonville, lies Seraphine, infant daughter of LaMarquise de La Tour du Pin, lady in waiting to Marie Antoinette. It was during La Marquise’s residence on the Colonie farm in 1795 a refugee from French revolutionaries, that Seraphine succumbed to infantile paralysis and was buried there . . . Several times in recent years diligent search of Dr. Donhauser’s place has failed to disclose the location of the little grave … When it became the Albany’s physician’s property, he found bits of shattered grave stones back of the house, which evidently had been thrown in a heap. They all bore the name of the family which had owned the property for so long, but none could be found with a clue that it might have marked the grave of Seraphine.”

The Marquise wrote that her daughter Séraphine died suddenly in 1795, “taken from us by a suden illness very common in this part of the country – a kind of infant paralysis. She died in a few hours without losing consciousness. The physician from Albany, whom Monsieur de Chambeau had gone to bring, as soon as she began to suffer, gave us no hope that she would live and declared that this malady was then very common in the country and that no remedy was known. The young Schuyler who only the day before had been playing with my daughter during the afternoon succumbed to the same trouble a few hours later and rejoined her in Heaven … There was no Catholic priest either in Albany or in the neighborhood. My husband, who did not wish to have a Protestant minister called, himself performed the last rites for our child, and placed her in a little enclosure which had been arranged to serve as a cemetery for the inhabitants of the farm. It was situated in the middle of our woods. Almost every day I went to kneel upon the grave, the last resting place of the child whom I had so much loved …”

The Knick News article says that a section of the building, erected by Stephen Van Rensselaer in 1783, still remained, and that a mulberry tree planted by the French statesman Talleyrand (on a later visit than the one we described previously) still flourished in the yard. “The Dutch kitchen of La Marquise still is to be found in the basement of the house.”

The letter referred to in the headline was somewhat obscured in the article itself. It was referring to a letter of inquiry sent to the State Archives and History Division, which prompted state historian Dr. Alexander C. Flick to determine that it was the summer home of Dr. J. Lewi Donhauser that had been occupied by the Marquise. Interestingly, and for this we are entirely in the debt of Christopher Philippo, Dr. Joseph Lewi Donhauser was married to the great great granddaughter of Joseph C. Yates, the first mayor of Schenectady, founding trustee of Union College, and seventh governor of New York State.

Talleyrand Visits Albany and Troy

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So, the Marquis and Marquise de la Tour du Pin found themselves in exile in Albany (as one does) in 1794. With what seems like extremely benevolent assistance from General Philip Schuyler and his family, they were set up to buy a farm on property that is now the site of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, on the Troy-Schenectady road and along what is now Delatour Road. The owner of the farm “did not wish to move until after the snow was well packed,” a reminder that travel and moving was much more trouble in the seasons of mud back then. “As we had arranged with the Van Burens, who evidently had had enough of us, for two months only, it was necessary, therefore, to look for another home from the first of September to the first of November.” Hence, their stopover on River Street in what had been a tavern.

“At Troy, we found for a moderate sum, a little wooden house in the midst of a large yard, enclosed by a board fence. Here we established ourselves, and, as it would be necessary for us to purchase some furniture for the farm, we immediately acquired what we wanted.”

While there, they had a most surprising, high-ranking visitor, a central figure in the history of France.

“One day at the end of September, I was in the yard with a hatchet in my hand, occupied with cutting the bone of a leg of mutton which I was preparing to put on the spit for our dinner. All of a sudden, I heard behind me a loud voice which said in French: ‘On ne peut embrocher un gigot avec plus de majesté.’ Turning quickly, I saw Monsieur de Talleyrand and Monsieur de Beaumetz. Having arrived the evening before at Albany, they had learned from General Schuyler where we were. They came on his part to invite us to dinner and to pass the following day with them at his house. These gentlemen were to remain in the city only two days. An Englishman who was one of their friends was accompanying them and was very impatient to return to New York. However, as Monsieur de Talleyrand was very much amused at the sight of my leg of mutton, I insisted that he should return the following day to eat it with us. He consented.”

The visitor, who said “You can not stick a leg with more majesty,“ was Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, Bishop of Autun, one of the authors of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Civil Constitution of the Clergy. An emissary to Britain during the Revolution, he was forced to stay there when a warrant for his arrest was issued in December 1792, and then forced to leave Britain in March 1794 under the expulsion order of William Pitt after France declared war on Britain. Like some others of his countrymen, he came to the United States. Interestingly, Talleyrand was the house guest of Aaron Burr in New York City, but it is reported he declined to return the hospitality some years later when Burr was in self-imposed exile, as Burr had in the interim killed Talleyrand’s friend Alexander Hamilton in a duel in 1804.

The Marquise left her children in care of their traveling companion and fellow exile Monsieur de Chambeau and “Betsey,” her white servant, and set out for Albany with Talleyrand and Beaumetz to dine with the Schuylers. Apparently the Marquis joined them as well. Arriving there, they found General Philip Schuyler had just received newspapers bearing the latest news from France, which in this case was the events of 9 Thermidor – July 27, 1794 under our calendar.

“Here we found the news of the Revolution of the 9 Thermidor; the death of Robespierre and his followers, the end of the shedding of blood and the just punishment of the Revolutionary Tribunal. Monsieur de Talleyrand was rejoicing especially that his sister-in-law, Mme. Archambauld de Périgord, had escaped, when, later in the evening, having taken up from the table a paper which he though he had read, he found her name among the terrible list of victims executed the 9 Thermidor, that very morning, during the session in which Robespierre was denounced. The news of her death painfully affected him … Without the news of this cruel event, our evening with General Schuyler would have been more agreeable.”

Talleyrand returned to Troy to enjoy the hospitality of the de la Tours. Having known him her entire life, the Marquise noted that Talleyrand had a paternal and gracious tone that was very charming. “I regretted sincerely to find so many reasons for not holding him in esteem, but I could not avoid forgetting my disagreeable recollections when I had passed an hour in listening to him. As he had no moral value himself, by singular contrast, he had a horror of that which was evil in others. To listen to him without knowing him, you would have believed that he was a worthy man.”

As today pretty much all talk has to turn to Hamilton, apparently do it did then as well. Two days later they spent the day at Mrs. Van Rensselaer’s home, with all the Schuylers. This was Margarita “Peggy” Schuyler, daughter of General Schuyler, who married the patroon Stephen Van Rensselaer III, and whose sister Elizabeth was married to Alexander Hamilton.

“Monsieur de Talleyrand had been extremely impressed by the remarkable culture of Mrs. Van Rensselaer, and could not believe that she had not passed years in Europe. She had a very clear understanding of American affairs and the Revolution, of which she had gained a profound and extended knowledge through her brother-in-law, Colonel Hamilton, who was the friend and also the most intimate confidant of Washington. Colonel Hamilton was expected at Albany where he intended to pass some time with his father-in-law, General Schuyler. He had just resigned the position of Secretary of the Treasury, which he had held since the peace. It was to him that the country owed the good order which had been established in this branch of the government of the United States. Monsieur de Talleyrand knew him and had the very highest opinion of him. But he found it very remarkable that a man of his value, and endowed with talents so superior, should leave the Ministry to resume the profession of lawyer, giving as his reason for this decision that the position of Minister did not give him the means of bringing up his family of eight children. Such a pretext seemed to Talleyrand very singular and, so to speak, even a little naïf.

The following morning Talleyrand and company made one final visit to the Troy homestead, and then took a sloop back to New York City. Some time in November the winter snows came, and the river ice, which made it possible to move to the farm in what is now Colonie. With that beginning of transition to the farm life, the Marquise writes casually of an event that she must have previously considered inconceivable, for she notes its extreme singularity but provides no elaboration on what was then a waning practice, but still a legal one in New York:

“At this time we bought a negro, and this purchase, which seemed to be the most simple thing in the world, produced in my case a feeling so new that I shall remember it all my life.”

As before, the source for all this is the Marquise’s memoir, “Journal d’une femme de cinquante ans.” 

The French Exiles Adopt Very American Ways

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Marquis de la Tour du PinOne of the joys of amateur history is putting something out there and instantly getting a reaction with whole new information that we never knew, or making a connection that we had somehow missed. So yesterday’s entry on the French exile, the Marquis de la Tour du Pin (among other names – proper addresses for nobility are not our long suit) brought reactions that gave us both information we didn’t have, and gave us one of those “oh, duh!” moments.

So first, with thanks to Paula Lemire, we have the realization that the wife of the Marquis, referred to by Weise as the “Marchioness,” wrote an autobiography. And it’s available in English. And it’s on Archive.org. “Journal d’Une Femme de Cinquante Ans,” by la Marquise de la Tour du Pin was edited and translated by Walter Geer as “Recollections of the Revolution and the Empire” in 1920. The whole life of Henriette Lucie Dillon, la Marquise, is here. And, happily, she fills in some more detail of their time in exile from the French Revolution. Unhappily, she makes not a single mention of Troy, when it was their residence in a vacant tavern on River street that brought them to our attention.

The Marquis and Marquise first arrived at Boston in 1794, without “a single letter of introduction.” The owner of the ship they crossed on offered them the use of a farm he owned 18 miles from Boston, but the Marquis wanted to be “as near as possible to Canada, where he would have liked to settle.” From another exile in England came word of an American connection, a Mrs. Church, who made a recommendation to a family residing at Albany. “She was a daughter of General Schuyler who had gained a great reputation during the War of Independence … His eldest daughter had married the head of the Van Rensselaer family which was settled at Albany and possessed a large fortune in the county.” The connection made, they soon received “very pressing letters from General Schuyler in which he urged us to come without delay to Albany, where he assured us we would easily be able to establish ourselves.”

“At Boston I sold everything among the effects which we had brought with us which could bring us in a little money. As the ‘Diane’ had made the voyage without cargo, our baggage, which had cost us nothing to transport, was very considerable. We disposed of more than half of it; clothing, cloth, laces, a piano, music, porcelains – everything which would be superfluous in our little household was converted into money and then into drafts upon persons of responsibility at Albany. After remaining a month at Boston we set out with our two children, Humbert and Séraphine, the first of June, and fifteen days later we arrived at Albany. We traversed the whole state of Massachusetts, of which we admired the fertility and the air of prosperity. But a sad piece of news had made me so melancholy that I did not enjoy anything. Before leaving Boston my husband had heard of the death of my father who perished on the scaffold the thirteenth of April.”

They stayed with General Schuyler briefly, and he arranged for them to live for three months with the Jan Van Buren family, who lived not far from his brother, Col. Schuyler’s farm, and very close by the new village of Troy. They went to live “with Mr. Van Buren to learn American manners, as we had made it a condition of living with this family that they were not to change in any way the customs of the house. It was also arranged that Mrs. Van Buren should employ me in the housework the same as if I were one of her daughters.” Another Frenchman accompanying them, M. de Chambeau, “began an apprenticeship with a carpenter of the little growing city of Troy situated at a quarter of a mile from the Van Buren farm.” When news of the executions of the fathers of the Marquis and M. de Chambeau came:

“As I was a very good seamstress, I fashioned for myself my mourning costume, and my good hostess, having thus learned to appreciate the skill of my needle, found it very pleasant to have a seamstress at her command without cost, when she would have been obliged to pay a dollar a day and board if she had hired one from Albany.”

They were awaiting the arrival of funds from Holland so they could purchase a farm, and their plans in that regard, to do things the American way, tell some of the shameful hidden history of the Albany area:

“General Schuyler and Mr. Van Rensselaer advised my husband to divide his funds into three equal parts: A third for the purchase; a third for the management, the purchase of negroes, horses, cows, agricultural implements and household furniture, and a third part, added to what remained of the 12,000 francs brought by us from Bordeaux, for a reserve fund to meet unexpected circumstances, such as the loss of negroes or cattle and also for living expenses the first year. This arrangement became our rule of conduct.”

New York would not pass its first gradual emancipation law until 1799. At this time, by the evidence of the Marquise, it was simply presumed that if you were going to launch a prosperous farm, you would do so with slaves. By way of comparison, Vermont abolished adult slavery when it broke from New York with its own constitution in 1777, though there were apparently violations of the law. That was 22 years before New York’s first step toward abolition, which didn’t take on the first try.

In September 1794, the Marquis entered negotiations with a farmer “situated on the other side of the river, upon the road from Troy to Schenectady, a distance of two miles in the interior … The house was new, pretty and in very good condition. The land was only partially under cultivation. There were one hundred and fifty acres sown down, as many in woods and pasturage, a small kitchen garden of a quarter of an acre full of vegetables, and finally a handsome orchard sown with red clover and plated with cider apples. They asked us 12,000 francs. General Schuyler did not think the price exorbitant. The property was situated at four miles from Albany, upon a route which they were going to open up to communicate with the city of Schenectady, which was in a thriving situation.”

While no longer a farm, the house still stands today – on the land of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, just up from where Watervliet-Shaker Road intersects with … Delatour Road. Delatour. De La Tour. As in the name of the Marquis and Marquise. (That’s the “oh, duh!” moment.)

Next, we’ll have some more details of life on the farm.

The Maiden Lane Bridge

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The Maiden Lane Bridge, from the AlbanyGroupArchive on Flickr.

As noted before, until what is now known as the Livingston Avenue Bridge opened in 1866, Albanians or Greenbushians who wanted to cross the river could either take a ferry or wait for winter. Then the railroad bridge near Livingston Avenue opened … and as long as it was the only bridge, it was just “the bridge.” It didn’t need a designation, such as the North Bridge, until another one was built and added some confusion. That was first just called the “new” bridge, then the South Bridge, and eventually the Maiden Lane Bridge. For nearly a century, this swing bridge was part of the Albany riverscape, but it appeared almost quietly and was taken away with hardly a notice.

In March 1869, the Albany Evening Times wrote about the coming addition:

“The new bridge will soon be commenced, and will be completed this year. When it is completed a new depot will be erected on the grounds bounded by Montgomery, Quackenbush, Water and Columbia streets. The new depot will also accommodate the Rensselaer and Saratoga Railroad, and probably the Delaware and Hudson’s Albany and Susquehanna Road. The bridge will be of iron, and will not only accommodate the railroads but also foot passengers [which the North Bridge did not]. It will cross the river between Maiden lane and Exchange street, and land between the Boston and Hudson River depots. It will cross Maiden lane at Quay street at a sufficient elevation to allow vehicles to pass beneath it. The old bridge, at the north end of the city, will also be raised at Broadway sufficient to allow vehicles to pass under it, and nothing but the passenger trains for the West and East will cross the surface of Broadway at that point. This change will be owing to the excellent management of W.H. Vanderbilt, Esq., and we feel assured it will be duly appreciated by our citizens.”

W.H., by the way, was William Henry “Billy” Vanderbilt, the son of Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt. He was the still only a vice president of the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad (becoming President in 1877).

Later that same year, the Albany Evening Journal reported that the New York Central Railroad track had been extended from the Northern Railroad at Columbia street to Quay street, “a portion of the old freight houses on Quay street having been torn down for the purpose. The track has been laid along the dock on Quay street from Maiden lane to Columbia street, and it will also be laid from Columbia street to the elevator. The object of this extension is to enable the cars to receive cargoes of coal, iron, etc., directly from the boats. It will also be convenient in bringing materials for the new bridge.”

Early in 1870, the Evening Times reported that the contract for building the substructure of the new bridge had been awarded to Charles E. Newman of Hudson. “The new bridge will be shorter than the present one, and will terminate at the old depot in Maiden lane.” Later in the year, The Evening Times gave a thorough description, reprinted in the Sept. 22, 1870 Troy Daily Whig, of the “second great highway over the Hudson at Albany”:

“The bridge starts from a point at or near the west end of the old Hudson River Railroad passenger house in East Albany. It runs thence in a straight line 1012 feet until it strikes the Pier, at a point about 100 feet north of the State street bridge, thence it curves rather sharply to the north over the Basin, crossing Maiden lane and Quay street diagonally, and passing through the building on the northwest corner of Maiden lane and Quay street, runs into the old Central Railroad yard. The line then runs through what was the Central ticket office, intersecting the main track near the Delavan House.
Across the main channel of the river are four piers, with 185 feet span, and a swing or “draw-bridge,” 272 feet long and 185 feet from the Pier. There are seven spans of 70 feet each across the Basin, which makes the total length from end to end, including the approaches, 1550 feet. The bridge is to be 30 feet above low water mark. Across the main channel the bridge is perfectly level, but after leaving the Pier there is a fall of 2-1/2 feet to get into the yard.
The entire superstructure is to be of iron of the very best quality,. The bridge is to be double tracked and on each side will be a foot bridge six feet wide. The swing-bridge will be constructed in the most approved style, and will be operated by a small steam engine, to be located at the top of the bridge, over the turn-table.
At present two of the piers on the Greenbush side are nearly completed. Work has been commenced on all the others, and masonry on about half of them. There are now 150 men employed, and it is expected the bridge will be entirely completed and ready for use in about sixteen months, or the 1st of January, 1872. When this bridge is done, it is the intention to replace the superstructure of the old or ‘upper bridge’ with iron, which was the design when originally built. This bridge is to be used exclusively for passenger trains, and the old one for freight.
The President of the Bridge Company is Horace F. Clark, Esq., of N,.Y., the son-in-law of Commodore Vanderbilt; and the Vice President, Chester W. Chapin, of Springfield, Mass. The contractors who are doing the work, are for the sub-structure or mason work, Charles E. Newman of Hudson, N.Y., and for the super-structure or iron work, Kellogg, Clarke & Co., of Philadelphia.
The entire cost of the bridge will be $1,000,000, and when completed will rank as one of the wonders of the world.
We are under obligations to Chief Engineer Hilton for information furnished and courtesies extended.”

That last was a reference to Charles Hilton, chief engineer of the Hudson River Bridge Company, who had first surveyed for a bridge across the river fifteen years before in anticipation of creating “the last connecting link to an uninterrupted railroad communication from the Atlantic to the Pacific.” That initial effort was delayed by court actions. But construction finally made progress and, according to Arthur Weise, the first train crossed on Dec. 28, 1871. The Maiden Lane Bridge was open.

The bridge and its pedestrian walkway, which created an important connection for those traveling on foot or by bicycle, operated for nearly a century. But then came the collapse of passenger rail in the United States in general, and in Albany specifically. With the closure of Union Station in 1968, the Maiden Lane Bridge no longer served a particular purpose. Its tracks, and most of the tracks in that area, were a major impediment to the plan to build an interstate highway along the river, and so the bridge’s days were numbered, and the numbers weren’t high.

Was there an outcry over the scrapping of what was once considered a wonder of the world (at least by some in Albany)? Not much. In March 1969, A planning agency called the Hudson River Valley Commission criticized the lack of mass transportation planning in the Capital District at the same time it approved the demolition of the bridge. “Before formally reviewing any further Department of Transportation projects for this area, the commission will request a statement of how the projects relate to mass transportation planning for the Capital District.” In other words, we’ll let you eliminate any hope of Albany ever having passenger rail service again, but don’t let it happen again. A Troy Times Record article from November 26, 1969 noted that the bridge would be demolished within the next 10 days, as part of the contract of the Peter Kiewit Contracting Company’s work constructing portions of the Riverfront Arterial. Demolition was to be completed by the middle of January, 1970. The walkway had already been dismantled, back in September of 1968.

Maiden Lane Bridge Walkway Demolition

The dismantling of the Maiden Lane Bridge’s pedestrian walkway, Knickerbocker News, Sept. 11, 1968.

The Early Docks of Albany

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http://www.albanyinstitute.org/details/items/plan-of-the-city-of-albany-about-1770.html

After Robert Yates, a map of Albany including the details showing docks at Columbia Street (far right), Mark Lane (center), Hudson Street, and Hamilton Street.

Hoxsie can rarely be accused of linear thinking. Having covered the life of the Albany basin (which we did here, here and here.) (plus also here), let’s go back to its beginning. Howell’s 1876 “Bi-Centennial History of Albany” incorporates a paper by General S. V. Talcott, “a distinguished citizen, now venerable in years, who has held many posts of duty with advantage to his native city and State, and credit to himself.” His paper gave the story of the “Docks, Wharves, and Basin of Albany, with many historic events and reminiscences of olden times.”

Talcott’s reminiscences start by recalling a visit by Swedish naturalist Peter Kalm in 1749, who reported that the Hudson River at Albany was from twelve to twenty feet deep, but there then was no quay built for fear it would be swept away in the spring floods. Instead, “the vessels come pretty near the shore and receive their cargoes from two canoes lashed together.” As early as 1727, the Common Council had started discussing building wharves. By the time of the 1770 survey and map shown above, there were four docks used by cargo ships:

“… one above Columbia street, near where Foxenkill empties in the basin, called the Arsenal Wharf; one at the foot of Mark lane (Exchange street) in the shape of a T, called the Middle Wharf, which was enlarged and extended in 1774 to 90 feet in length and 32 feet in width; another at the foot of Hudson street, of the same shape, but somewhat smaller, called the City Hall Wharf; and one at Kilby lane (now Hamilton street), near where the steamboat landing now is, called Kilby’s Wharf, later known as Hodge’s Dock. All four extended to the channel of the river near its western bank. Division street, which came to the river between the last-named wharves, was then called Bone Alley. The original shore line, as represented on this map, was as far west as Dean street, then called Dock street. Subsequent filling brought out the water line to its present [1876] position on the east side of Quay street. At Quackenbush street the west bank of the river was about 380 feet east of Broadway; at Foxenkill about 200 feet; at Exchange street about 70 feet; at State street about 80 feet east of Dean; at Hudson street about 160 feet; and at Division street about 175 feet east of Broadway.”

The Columbia street dock would be the one furthest right in the 1770 map shown above (from the Albany Institute of History and Art), just above a squiggle that represents the Ruttenkill. The Middle Wharf was said to be at the foot of Mark Lane, which is now just a driveway between the Federal Building and the old Post Office, running from Broadway to the SUNY garage – but this map makes it look much more like it was at Maiden Lane. Another T-shaped dock is shown at the foot of Hudson Avenue, just south of State Street, and the final, southernmost dock is the one at Kilby Lane.

Talcott further says that land on the north side of Hudson street extended by filling into the river, almost 200 feet, and the Ruttenkill (“now known as Beaver street sewer,” had originally emptied into the basin at the northeast corner of Hudson and Quay streets, but was then diverted, crossed Hudson Street at a right angle and then emptied into the river 80 feet south of the street.

A ferry was established near the foot of Kilby’s lane (Hamilton street), “probably before 1767,” as Guysbert Marcelis was granted rights to maintain a ferry that year. In April 1783, the stones of Kilby’s dock were appropriated to complete the City Hall Dock and “the next Northern Dock,” but later that year the appropriation was reconsidered, and Talcott doesn’t tell us what happened to the docks. While Kilby’s dock was in operation, Talcott says there was a landing place for bateaux and small boats “not far from the dwelling of the late Judge Jacob L. Lansing, on the corner of Broadway and Quackenbush streets.” It was at this landing that he says that, just before the Battle of Saratoga, residents of the Colonie had a small fleet of bateaux and were ready to flee:

“While engaged in loading their boats as rapidly as possible, a single horseman was seen approaching from the north, gesticulating and furiously whipping his horse as he drew near. Men, women and children rushed out to hear what news he brought from the armies, expecting of course that the enemy was close behind him. He shouted as he came up and passed along: ‘Bergine is taken! Bergine is taken!!’ So astounded and incredulous were the people as they followed him to the City Hall, on the corner of Broadway and Hudson streets, that they cried: ‘Gy liegen! Gy liegen!!’ (You lie! You lie!!) great was their relief and gladness when the news was confirmed by the dispatch brought by the messenger and read by the Mayor to the assembled crowd. The switch which the messenger had used to urge his horse along, he threw away as he passed the corner of North Lansing street and Broadway. It was picked up by Mrs. Teunis G. Visscher, a daughter of Mr. Christopher Lansing, and planted in front of her father’s house, where she resided at that time. The switch grew to be a sturdy elm, long remembered and pointed out as a monument to commemorate the end of the revolution. It passed from youth to manhood and to old age, lost its beauty and strength, and at last yielded up the remnant of its life to the demands of progress, and was removed to make room for the railroad viaduct across Broadway.”

The title to the riverfront was originally vested in the Mayor and Commonalty of the city, leased to private owners, but was later transferred to purchasers. A dock association formed in 1794, which Talcott took as evidence that, in 1794, there was a dock. The association initially included the proprietors of the dock between the center of Maiden Lane and the north side of State Street. “This was probably the first regular dock, extending from street to street, that was constructed, and the Association was probably formed on its completion.” In 1796, the association was expanded to include “proprietors of the quay south of Bone lane [Division street] and north of Kilby lane [Hamilton street]….”

The Dock Association continued through 1873, with Abraham Bloodgood serving as the first “wharfinger” in 1794, followed by Abraham Eights (1795-1819), Edward Brown (1820-41), John L. Hyatt (1841-70); William Eaton (1870-71) and F.A. Shepard (1871-73).

 

New Look for Albany’s Riverfront

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Men at Work

MEN AT WORK – Trucks carrying earth to fill in the old yacht basin have worn themselves a clear road from the mainland to the Albany Yacht Club island, as seen in this view from the Delaware and Hudson Railroad building. In foreground are the Maiden Lane railroad bridge and part of the Yacht Club Bridge soon to be torn down.

One last look at the old Albany waterfront. On July 3, 1955, the Times-Union touted a new look for the riverfront, with an article sub-headlined “Highway Job Alters Area.”

“The shoreline of the city has been drastically streamlined in the Maiden Lane region, and you almost wouldn’t recognize the spot that used to be one of old Albany’s favorite Sunday afternoon strolls.
Any day now, the wreckers’ crowbars will go to work on the trim and graceful masonry bridge that spans the perhaps 250 feet from the shore to the old Albany Yacht Club building, and another familiar city landmark will vanish.
Already the scene looks unfamiliar to the oldtimer. The Hudson River still slaps at the bottom steps of the landing stage in the inlet, but no pleasure craft bob leisurely in the once-crowded backwater.
Most of the inlet has been filled in, and a good broad jumper could probably leap across the comparative trickle of water that still remains.”

The work was the beginning of the riverfront arterial, two lanes of concrete each 24 feet wide, separated by a grassy center mall, expected to relieve congestion on Broadway and North Pearl St. Once complete the only landmark remaining on the riverfront would be the former Albany Yacht Club building, then in use as a Naval Reserve center. The Naval Reserve would be there for another year, while waiting for a new center at Washington and North Main to open.

“As for the Albany Yacht Club itself, its members are not looking backward to any great extent. The old spot saw many happy times, and there’s a possibility the Club may request one of the stones from the old bridge as a souvenir to be displayed at its new locations.”

Steamboat Square

STEAMBOAT SQUARE – The old ticket office and waiting room of the Albany Night Boat, in the right background, seem strangely incongruous in their high and dry setting, with the obvious signs of construction work for the new arterial highway littering the foreground.

The Yacht Club Bridge

ONE WILL REMAIN – The old Yacht Club bridge, at right, will soon be demolished to make way for the new arterial highway, which will pass under the Maiden Lane railroad bridge. In this view from the Delaware and Hudson Railroad building, clearance appears limited, but the fill in the inlet is now 10 feet higher than it will be when the highway is surfaced

A Human Body Turned to Stone

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A Human Body Turned to Stone 1893Albany has a history of digging up bodies and moving them around (as any old city does). Sometimes, that resulted in some surprises. In 1893, a transfer from one cemetery to another resulted in finding “A Human Body Turned to Stone,” although stone isn’t quite as good as another description. Albany had a Soap Lady.

“Cases of putrefaction of human bodies are so rare that when one is accidentally brought to light it becomes a matter of curiosity and interest. Such a case has just been discovered in this city.”

Mrs. Charles Hagen (nee Miss Crinnen, no first name given) had been a resident of Albany but died in Newark, New Jersey in February 1892. Her body was brought to Albany for burial in St. Mary’s cemetery, then far out Washington Avenue, roughly where the high school and Army Reserve Center are today. According to the Albany Morning Express (May 12, 1893), “Of late many bodies buried in St. Mary’s cemetery have been taken up by relatives and reburied in St. Agnes’ cemetery. Among those was that of Mrs. Hagen, whose family is well known in this city.” Also buried in the plot was her husband’s father, buried in 1864 or 1865. In digging them out,

“On reaching the top of the rough box they were surprised at finding it in a far better state of preservation than they could have expected after it had been buried more than a year. The box, which to the workmen appeared unusually heavy, was hoisted from the grave. The rough box was not in the least decayed, and looked no worse than it might if it had been merely exposed to the rain and sun for a week or two. The relatives were notified of the peculiar fact of the preservation of the box, and they became anxious to see the body. They consulted with Superintendent Gibbons, of St. Mary’s cemetery, and had the covers of the rough box and casket unscrewed. What they saw surprised them not a little. There had been scarcely any change in the appearance of the body. The f ace looked almost as it did when the casket was first consigned to earth. An examination of the body revealed the reason for its remarkable preservation. It was as hard as stone to the touch; in fact it was what is commonly called “petrified,” although it is claimed that the process of true petrifaction never takes place in human bodies, but that the tissues are transformed into a substance that is called adipocere, which is about the consistency of hardened putty.”

This is a thing. A rare thing, but a thing nevertheless. The Mütter Museum in Philadelphia prominently features “The Soap Lady,” a woman whose body was exhumed in Philadelphia in 1875; a fatty substance, adipocere, encases her remains. “Adipocere formation is not common, but it may form in alkaline, warm, airless environments, such as the one in which the Soap Lady was buried.” The Soap Lady is now believed to have died in her late 20s; Mrs. Hagen was only 24 when she died. Her body, along with her father-in-law’s, were reburied in St. Agnes Cemetery. “A number of persons who had heard of the case gathered at St. Agnes’ cemetery on Sunday in hope of seeing the body, but were disappointed.”

According to the Troy Irish Genealogy Society webpage on St. Mary’s, disinterments from St. Mary’s began around 1875 and weren’t complete until 1917. After that, the land was known as St. Mary’s Park, used as a temporary housing site following World War II, and eventually became the site of Albany High School.

Unfortunately, we can’t reconcile Mrs. Hagen’s birth and death dates with any of the currently recorded reinterments from St. Mary’s or the current interments at St. Agnes, so the particulars of her life, including her first name, escape us.

The End of the Albany Basin

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This shows the remains of the Albany basin at the time the Albany Yacht Club was in operation. The northern portion of the basin had been filled in and used for the railroads. In this view, the basin opening to the old Erie and Champlain canals can still be seen, just beyond the Livingston Avenue Bridge at the top of the photo. That area is now completely filled in and forms the Corning Preserve Boat Launch parking lot. The old Day Line shed can be seen at the lower right on the waterfront. This is a Fairchild aerial survey of the Albany waterfront, from the Albany Public Library Pruyn Collection, shown at the AlbanyGroupArchive Flickr site.

Somewhere around 1949, the Albany Yacht Club buildings were sold for use as a Naval Reserve Center, and the club started its move across the river to Rensselaer, with a temporary stop in the old Day Line facilities. In 1954, the old basin would finally be filled in as work began on the riverfront arterial highway – I-787. On Nov. 9, 1954, workers started “with the preliminary task of tearing down the old Hudson River Day Line shed, an Albany landmark since the late 19th Century. Between now and next November, when the job is scheduled for completion, the contractor will fill in the old Albany Yacht Club basin for a 1,000-car municipal parking lot and build a ¾ mile stretch of four-lane concrete roadway from a point near the old Day Line landing north to the Livingston Ave. railroad bridge.”

As with all things Albany, the inconvenience for parking was a concern:

“The demolition and construction work will be a source of woe for scores of riverfront parkers, who will have to find somewhere else to leave their cars. Some of the cars that had been left near the Day Line shed today had to be moved by police for safety when the wreckers attacked the ancient ironwork with acetylene torches.”

The construction would involve razing buildings and building a stone dike in the river to straighten the shoreline from “the Quay st. bulge at Steamboat Sq. to the old Yacht Club pier, now occupied by the U.S. Navy as a Naval Reserve training center. The section between the present shoreline and the dike will be filled with stone and graded for parking space. At the same time the contractor will extend three city sewers, whose outfalls will have to be moved toward the middle of the river before grading for the roadway can begin.”

Those included the Columbia St. sewer, “which carries much of Albany’s rainstorm runoff from the downtown section,” and the Quackenbush sewer, near the north end of the project.

From the AlbanyGroupArchive on Flickr: the final filling-in of the Albany basin behind the old Albany Yacht Club buildings. The bridges are the Maiden Lane railroad bridge and the State Street pier bridge. Circa 1954-55. (Gerber collection. Contributed by Nancy Gallagher.)

Former Yacht Club Site on the Wterfront

One of the state inspectors who documented properties being demolished. From the Flickr AlbanyGroupArchive, contributed by Ann Pfau, believed to be about 1964. The Maiden Lane bridge is still standing in the picture.

All these pictures are thanks to the great work done by the AlbanyGroupArchive on Flickr.