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Full text of "Our police guardians; history of the Police department of the city of New York, and the policing of same for the past one hundred years, also an account of my travels through Europe and America, visiting all of the largest cities, covering some sixty-five thousand miles as a police propagandist; with reminiscences of the past forty years, thirty-two pages of illustrations, and ten pages of reproduction of historical letters and much other interesting information "touching on an' appertaining to" this history"

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From the collection of the 








San Francisco, California 






History of the Police Department of the City of New York, 
AND THE Policing of Same for the Past One Hundred Years ' 


An Account of My Travels Through Europe and America, 
Visiting All of the Largest Cities, Covering Some Sixty- 
Five Thousand Miles as a Police Propagandist 

With Reminiscences of the Past Forty Years, Thirty-Two Pages 
OF Illustrations, and Ten Pages of Reproduction of Histor- 
ical Letters and Much Other Interesting Information 
"Touching on an' Appertaining to" This History 

Compiled and IVritten by 

OFFICER "787" 

JOHN J. HICKEY, Retired 


Copyright, 1925, by 







Jree Library 



Ten per cent of the proceeds of this work is 
to be devoted to two most worthy charities, 
to wit: 

St. Vincent's Home for Poor and Friendless Boys 


St. Charles Hospital for Blind and Crippled 

The Author. 


My views and deductions may not agree with yours; I hope they 
do not, for then there will be something to quarrel about, for it is 
well known that we of the Irish race love a good fight, and that when 
we have no one else to fight we fight each other. 

I have spoken pretty freely in these pages, but not always quite as 
freely as I would like to do. The law forbids, but the truth must and 
will be spoken of it in all cases. 

My life's training as a policeman has hardened me in many ways 
and consequently if I were to let loose often the verdict would be 
against me, for the great majority of people allow their feelings to 
influence them. 

I have tried to keep within the law by writing nothing but cold 
facts, backed up with proof, for all I have said or done, and in con- 
clusion I hold out to all the right hand of good fellowship, for "he 
that would be free, himself shall strike the blow." 

A policeman's life is told in two words, "dangerous duty," and if 
kind fortune favors him and he arrives at the time when he can retire 
he is lucky indeed, for only fourteen years is the average life of a 
retired policeman. The "statistics" of the police department will and 
do verify this statement. 


But before closing, permit me to say that I shall never forget the 
kind words of the late Inspector Henry V. Steers to myself and my 
classmates on the day of our appointment to the force. Inspector 
Steers stood outside the Commissioner's office in 300 Mulberry 
Street and greeted us all with a word of cheer, addressing us as fol- 
lows : "Boys, you are just starting off to make clean records for your- 
selves, and I wish to you all the best of good luck. But there is one 
thing that I would like to advise you against and that is, 'women and 
wine,' for they have caused the doAvnfall of many good men in the 
past; in fact they are the ruination of the world." 



And turning to me, the Inspector noticed that I was wearing on 
my uniform coat Shield No. 787, and he said, "Mr. Hickey, I con- 
gratulate you as you are wearing my old shield. It was lucky for me, 
may it be so for you." Unfortunately this grand old man while living 
in retirement became blind, and until his death he would welcome us 
men of the force at all times. Our very presence seemed to cheer the 
old Inspector very much. I earnestly hope that he is at rest, for he 
has the prayers and the good wishes of every man, woman and child 
who knew him. Peace be to our dear old friend and adviser, "gone 
but not forgotten." 


The citizens of New York are proud, and well they may be so, 
of our fellow citizens, the following named business men of this city 
who gladly gave up both time and pleasure and, without pay, rallied 
to the assistance of Police Commissioner Richard E. Enright, to assist 
him in his successful efforts in making our grand old city both clean 
and wholesome to live in, and today are the talk of the world : 


Col. Herman A. Metz R. A. C. Smith 

John F. Birmingham William H. Todd 

George MacDonald Col. Walter Scott 


John M. Shaw Barron Collier 

Dr. John A. Harriss Rodman Wanamaker 

T. Coleman Du Pont Dr. Carleton Simon 

Edmond a. Guggenheim Douglas I. McKay 


Sir Thomas Lipton, Mr. and Mrs, George W. Loft, Judge Wil- 
liam McAdoo, Adam A. Cross, and Col. Rhinelander Waldo, 
former Police Commissioner. 

The Author. 



March 8, 1916 

11^ dear Sir: 

The President deeply appreciatee the 
friendly words of your letter of March 7th, 
and he asks me to thank you cordially for 
having written him, as well as for the good 
will which you manifest. 

Sincerely youra, 

^■^ Secretary to tne President 


Mr. John J, Hickoy, 
New York City. 

/j/T^ y ^^^^^^ , THE WHITE HOUSE 



Office of December 27th, 1917. 

Iheodore Koosevelt 

My d^ar Brother Hickey: 

'I'liree cheers fcr you and yours 
ecnsl I am so pressed for time I can only send you 

this line of aoknowledgment. 

Faithfully yours. 

^I^..,^...-^^^^ /C^^CU,^^^ 

Mp. J. J. Hickey, 

343 East 19th Street, Cl1:y» 

This was the reply that I received from the Colonel, after my annual New 
Year's and Christmas greetings of 1917 and 1918. 

John J. Hickey. 

Okiver^jl P«:¥ts:Hiivo 

This card came to me from the General, in reply to a letter 
that I had forwarded to him on his birthday, Sept. 14, 1918. 

And in December I also forwarded to the General a card 
of Christmas greetings, and stating that all America was 
proud of him, and to return to home and motherland to be- 
come our President, when our present beloved President 
choosed to lay down the reins of office. 

And on my application for the General's autograph, this 
card followed. 

J. J. HiCKEY. 


The Private Secretary is 
commanded by The King to 
thank M?-Tc5U'X>l^.-c^ 

for ko> letter . 

^^ If ana. 71^. 

On the afternoon of Washington's Birthday, of February 22nd, 
1919, I sat and pondered on what bloodshed has been lost by our 
brave sons and daughters, also that of our Allies in the past four 
and one-half years. 

So I forwarded letters of congratulation to the principals 
taking part in the great war, among whom was His Majesty, 
King George of England, who I am pleased to state follows his 
father and grandmother, who were noted for the fact that they 
did all things right, that is they knew when to do things, and 
how to do them right, so it is with the King of to-day. I wrote 
to His Majesty, congratulating him on the return safely of his 
hero son, the young Prince of Wales, and his brave Generals 
who fought with their backs to the wall. General Sir Douglas 
Haig, and General Byng, holding the enemy, until our brave 
American boys went over the top, and cleaned up the German 
dogs and I received the following reply, unexpectedly. 

J. J. HlCKEY. 

JBalole he ^m^clle*. 

le ler nai 1919. 


La chalQureuse expression de vos sentiments de sympa- 
thle pour Lui-mSae at pour la Belgique a beaucoup touch6 
le Boi. 

Sa Majesty n'a charge d» avoir i'honneur de vous trans- 
mattre Sea vifs remerciemants pour votre gracieuse atten- 
tion at da vous f6licitar du patriotisme dont vos fils ont 
donn§ una si belle preuve, 

Veuillea a£r^er, Monsieur, I'^assuranoe da ma conside- 
ration distingu^a. 

Le Ohef du Cabinet du Roi, 

A Uonsieur 

Monsieur John.J.HICKEY, 
& & & 



24tli April 1914. 

John J, Hickey Esq., 

306. Washington Avenue. 
Parkvill* . 

Brooklyn, New York. 

t)«ar Mr. Hlokey, 

A thoue&ad thanks for your y&tj klnA 
TJlehes and I hope they will "b^ r9/a3.iB«d. 

I miLoh appreciate the troiih3fss you have 
taken in sending me the cllpplntja, which were 
moflt Interesting and I am very gratejPtil for them. 

Hoping that I may have the pleasujre of 
being able to thank you personally for them 
when I come across to America, and with all 
good wishes. 

ICr. T. H« Hiokay, 

243, East 19th Street. 

Hew York Clty.- 

P«ar Itr. Elok«7, 

Very many thanks for your kind letter of the 17th 
Maroh > St. Patrick's Day - end for all the sentiments ivhloh ^ou 
express » as also for the interesting pqpers which you so kindly 
sent. I am always interested in any American newfl and the 
Amerloan papers for the last xToek or two must, I an stire, hare • 
been worth reading* Anyhow, I an sure yon are feeling bettc 
now that Amerioa is "all In" with the Allies* 

I do not know yet when I oce get orer to yovr 
side; Ihare heen hoping for this for a very long time now, hut 
oircumstanoes have always been too strong for me. I shall, 
however, no doubt surprise you by appearing fta Hew York one of 
these days and shall hope to find you la the best of health and 

Tith renewed thanks for yotor kind thou^^tfulnest 
and wishing you the best of luok. 

Yours faithfully. 





January 6th, 191IL 

i)ear Mr. Hiekey,* 

I am iBUCh ololieed for your letter ofthe 
22n4 December, wnioh reached me in due course, emd wnlch I have 
read with great interest. In Ireland, the people are united 
almost as one man in support of the Irish Party and its attitude 
in regard to the war, and I have felt all along that the Party 
could count upon the contimied and unwavering support of the 
overwhelming majority ofthe Irish in America. Your letter is 
most encouraging, and I am delighted to know that you are 
taking an active part in counteracting the machinations of 
the enemiesof Ireland in the United States. 
Witn best re^rds, Believe me, 

Very truly yours, 

H<m. John J. Hickey, ^ , ^i )k a. 

I replied to this letter, saying that I was delighted to have the distinguished 
pleasure of being a life long follower of such a noble leader, and that all Irishmen 
the world over should rejoice at the fact, also that he could call on me at any 
time that I could be of any service to his leadership, or the party in general, also 
that I would continue to do my bit. 

John J. Hickey. 

General Headquarters, 

British Armies in France. 



Foreword v 



I. High Constable Jacob Hays, His Remarkable and Successful 
Career, Organizing the "Watch System." Chief of Police 
George W. Matsell, a Man Who Played an All-Important 
Part in Police Affairs, Reorganizing the Watch System and 
Bringing About the Organization of a Municipal Police System 1 

II. The "Draft Riots" of 1863 13 

III. The Suppression of the "Draft Riots" of 1863 29 


I. Superintendent George Washington Walling and His Long Con- 
nection with the Police Department of This Great City, 
Dating from 1847 to 1885 48 

II. Governor Seymour Removes the Police Commissioners and Ap- 
points a New Board Which Caused Quite a Rumpus, the 
Matter Being Taken to the Courts 58 

III. Police Records of the Past, Giving Briefly Such Accounts as 

Those of Inspectors William Murray, Thomas F. Byrnes, 
Captain James McCaffery ; Also of the Administration of 
Colonel Rhinelander Waldo When the Rosenthal Murder 
Occurred 68 

IV. The Police Department of the City of New York, January, 

1924, Giving an Account of Its Standing and Doings in the 
Matter of Bootlegging Violations and the "West End Bank" 
Murder Case 79 


I. "Reminiscences" of the Old Police Department; Also Some Im- 
portant News of the Day 88 

II. "Reminiscences" Continued. The Administration of Commis- 
sioner Richard E. Enright and His Able Board of Deputies . 101 

III. Dealing with the Unfortunate Illness of Mayor Hylan and the 
Untimely Death of President Warren G. Harding. Also of 
the Passing Away of the Wonderful American Statesman, ex- 
President Woodrow Wilson. Also of Other Interesting Mat- 
ters of the Present Day 116 




IV. This Chapter Speaks of the Many Police Organizations, both 
Benevolent and Social, Including the Police Recreation Camp 
in the Catskills 123 


I. This Chapter Is One More or Less of Trials and Tribulations, 
Telling the Story of the Bigger Man Oppressing the Smaller 
One, the Weak Mortal Fighting His Stronger Brother . . 131 

II. This Is Another Chapter Similar to the Previous One, but Re- 
lates the Story of the Organization of the Patrolmen's 
Benevolent Association ; the Introduction of Athletics into 
the Police Department and the Organization of the Police 
Athletic Association 144 

III. This Chapter Tells the Unfortunate Story of Lieutenant 

Charles Becker, Charged with the Murder of Herman Rosen- 
thal, the Gambler 156 

IV. Detective Stories 161 


I. This Chapter Speaks of an Extended Vacation of "Officer 787," 
"a Police Propagandist," Whom He Met and What He Saw 
IN His Sixty-Five Thousand Miles of Travel through Europe 
and America 169 

II. Rambling through Ireland 189 

III. My Visit to Cork, Kissing the Blarney Stone, My Visit with 

the Hon. Daniel F. Cohalan and Many Other Men of Prom- 
inence, AND My Return to Little Old New York 200 

IV. Leaving for the Pacific Coast 213 

V. "Officer 787" on Vacation and Visiting the Police Forces of 

THE Different States En Route 229 


Alfred E. Smith, Governor 

April 10, 1919. 
Mr. John J. Hickey, 
New York Veteran Police Assn., 
23 Duane Street, 
New York City. 

Dear John: 

I note that you are the author of a book entitled, "The Travels of 
an Old New York Policeman." 

It must be all right because you certainly have had the experience. 
With kind regards and best wishes, I am, 

Sincerely yours, 

(Signed) Alfred E. Smith. 

Office of The Commissioner 

April 5th, 1919. 
Mr. John J. Hickey, 
No, 23 Duane Street, 
New York. 

My dear Mr. Hickey: 

It has never been my good fortune to read a more interesting text 
than is comprised in the manuscript of your book, which, I under- 
stand, is shortly to be put in the hands of the publishers. 

Besides your vast experience in the Police Department, in which 
you made a very honorable and permanent niche for yourself, the 
journeys which you have undertaken and the variety of interesting 
and historical places that you have visited qualify you, in a most un- 
usual manner, to write such a work. 

With the return of peace, the interest of the public at large will 
be centered, to a considerable extent, upon the business of travelling 
and the conditions in other lands, and to those who make such trips 
your volume will particularly appeal. It is splendidly compiled and a 
great credit to its author, and will meet, I am sure, with the approval 
of the public at large. 

Very sincerely yours, 

{Signed) R. E. Enright, 

Police Commissioner. 


No. 300 Mulberry Street 

Henry H. Curran, City Magistrate 

December 8. 
Dear John: 

It is a pleasure to know that your "Reminiscences of the Police 
Department" are soon to be published and I wish to you and the book 
the best of luck. You are so well qualified to write a book on this 
subject that it will be interesting to everybody and I feel certain of 
your great success. 

With best wishes, I am, 

John J. Hickey, Esq., 
103 E. 20th Street, 
New York City. 

Sincerely yours, 
{Signed) Henry H. Curran. 



HCMRY H. CURRAM, Chairman 

February eth, 1915 t 

Dear John: 

J.ust to tell you I am reading 
your ioanuseript as fast as I eaa find tlBa» 
and it le very intereetlne* Is a week 

or two I hope to have flaiehed it* 

Hope you had a goo^ talk with 
Comnieelotoer Tun^.^ 

Sitteerol y yours* 

Ur» John J. Hiskey 

305 Washington Avenue 

Parkville, Breoklyn^New York 



High Constable Jacob Hays, His Remarkable and Successful 
Career — How He Suppressed Crime and Scourged the 
Criminal, Organizing the "Watch System'' for the Pur- 
pose OF Preventing and Detecting Crime, and Punishing 
the Evildoer, Chief of Police George W. Matsell, a Man 
Who Played an All-Important Part in Police Affairs by 
the Reorganization of the Watch System, and Bringing 
About the Organization of a Municipal Police System, 
Thereby Laying the Foundation of the Police Department 
of Today, the Greatest in the World's History. 

Every historical narrative relating to the city of New York must 
of necessity be a history of progress. Whether the broad course of 
general events be followed, or some particular phase of the city's life 
be made the theme, the result is the same. Growth, development, and 
progress underlie every change, and give a splendid vitality to every 

It is the purpose of the writer of this little work to lay before my 
readers some historical and interesting short stories and reminiscences 
connected with the police department of this great city. But I am 
fully aware that in writing up this history, I cannot do our great city 
the justice that it so fully deserves, but I will try to the best of my 
ability to give you the facts and statistics relating to the same. 

It is but fair to those of you that have had the good fortune of 
being born in New York, and to those of us who can only claim New 
York as our adopted city, that we should learn at least some of its 
early and present-day history, hence this writing. It is also my purpose 
to lay before you the laws relating to the first organization of a police 
force in this great city, under the supervision of Chief of Police George 
W. Matsell, in 1844 and 1845, thereby laying the foundation stone of 
this the greatest police department the world over, in 1924. Giving a 
brief account of the system by which the public protects itself against 
its natural enemies, this narrative will indeed be one of progress. 



Starting from beginnings as humble as those of the infant city itself it 
will be an unbroken series of steps, arriving at a breadth and per- 
fection of system commensurate with the modern glories of this great 
American metropolis, the empire city of the world. This will be the 
most remarkable feature of the story, that, speaking broadly, there 
is neither defeat, failure, nor stagnation to be chronicled. 

New York City was growing and the population increasing so 
that something had to be done to banish the crooks who were coming 
here from all over to get some of the fine pickings of little old New 
York. Finally a grand old man, Jacob Hays, came to town, and he 
was asked to look the town over and give an opinion as to whether 
he would be able to drive this thieving element out of the city, and he 
said, "Yes, I will undertake the job," and he was then and thei"e sworn 
in as high constable and given his insignia of office by Mayor Living- 
stone in 1803. 

Jacob Hays was not altogether a stranger in New York, having 
been appointed a marshal by Mayor Varick in 1798. The new police 
commander, Mr. Hays, started right in to clean up, and having picked 
out some good men, he appointed them watchmen, and they patrolled 
the streets both night and day. The men were separated into two 
companies or platoons, one did duty at night and the other did duty 
during the day, changing off every second week or whenever the 
occasion required. These watchmen did good work considering the 
small pay they received, about one shilling and sixpence a night or 
day, with a small bonus for every arrest made by them. 

It may amuse my readers to know how these men patrolled the city 
at night: they carried lanterns, and every hour it was their duty to 
chant off the following: 

"Hark ye neighbors, and hear me tell, ten now strikes on the balfry bell. 
Ten were the Holy Commandments given, to men below, by God in Heaven. 
Human watch from harm can ward us, yet God will guide, watch and guard us. 
May He, through His heavenly light, give us all a blessed night." 

I have often thought what would become of us cops patrolling Cherry 
Hill, Washington Street, and other thickly populated Irish neighbor- 
hoods in my time on the force (I can just see a brick flying down at 
us), if we dared sing a rhyme of this or any other character, every 
hour. Good night! 

On the night of December 16, 1835, the city was visited by a great 
fire, yes, a terrible conflagration. There were seven hundred houses, 
the district embracing thirteen acres, and every one of them was de- 
stroyed, costing the city over seventeen millions of dollars. This was 
some fire, oh, boys. 


I remember turning in the alarm for the great million dollar fire 
of the Morton Building on Nassau Street on a very cold February- 
night about 1896, so cold that the water froze as it left the hose. 
This was some blaze. The three nines were turned in that night, I am 
not quite sure but I think it was by old Chief Hugh Bonner, a grand 
old firefighter, with a good noble physique and character. This call 
brought every machine down from 59th Street south and the same night 
a fire in the Metropolitan Casino was just as great, causing a call to be 
sent in, bringing every fire machine in the city north of 59th Street. 
Heavenly Father, but it was cold that night. I got my ears frostbitten, 
and was glad to get relieved at midnight. 

The year 1834 may be called with propriety the year of riots. The 
civil authorities were utterly unable to handle the mobs and were forced 
to call upon the state militia to help put down the riotous siege and 
assist in maintaining peace in the city. This was the first time that 
New York City ever had to call upon the state for assistance, but it 
was absolutely necessary. 

In this same year a mayor was elected for the first time ; up to 
then the mayor of New York City was appointed by the governor of 
the state and the common council. This new order of things brought 
serious trouble. It introduced the despicable ward heeler riots and 
murder followed. After every yearly election the city would be wild 
with excitement and turbulence. The old gangs of the "Bowery Boys" 
and the "Dead Rabbits" kept up their fighting and murdering, but of 
course they were not known as the above named gangs until after 
years, but they were all of the same type nevertheless. 

Three months after the election riots, the state militia were called 
upon to quell a riot much more formidable in character. The Abolition- 
ists were at this time the object of the fury of the mob. The mob 
would break up their meetings and assault them until Colonel Stephens, 
Commander of the 27th Regiment, sailed right into the mob, driving 
it belter skelter in all directions, breaking up the riot without firing a 
single shot. Mayor Lawrence ordered several of the aldermen tO' go 
to the scene of trouble to act as magistrates, backed by Colonel 
Stephens, but when they saw the big crowd of rioters they became 
alarmed and requested Colonel Stephens to retreat to the city hall. But 
Colonel Stephens was not that kind of a man, and he positively refused, 
saying, "I will break up this mob and drive it to hell, or die in the 
attempt," and he gave the order to charge, and his men sailed into 
the mob with the butt end of their rifles first, and on that order they 
broke up this illegal gathering. 

Then followed the stonecutters' riots, and this was followed by 
other riots and troubles that concerned the O'Connell Guards, and the 


Chatham Square riots, in fact there were nothing but riots and troubles 
all that year. 

Mayor Lawrence in his message to the people in July, 1836, sug- 
gested the reorganization of the police force, and for what purpose: 
simply to drive the good men out, replacing them by his own friends. 

The population of New York in 1840 was four hundred thousand, 
and the city was filling up with crimesters giving Chief Constable 
Hays and his men lots of trouble ; but old man Hays continued to jail 
many of them and to drive many others away from the city, and it 
would take a big book to tell all that this famous old High Constable 
did in these few years. 

The necessity for a new departure for policing the city had for a 
long time been forcing itself on the minds of the public. But however 
apparent this might have been to the politicians, that body of en- 
lightened citizens had no inclination to make any changes, but to keep 
right on in the same old business way. Things went along in the same 
old way until the year 1840, and at that time the city was in the full 
tide of its mercantile prosperity. 

George W. Matsell, the son of an English bookseller and a very 
able young lawyer, was then appointed a police magistrate. He was 
full of ambition, with energy and nerve to back him up in all of his 
undertakings, yes, he was a second edition of High Constable Hays, 
whom he succeeded later on. 

The Police system was changed in 1844, and one of the first acts was 
to bring about a uniformed police in this city. And with that end in 
view Mayor James Harper ordered that on and after a certain date 
the men going out on patrol should wear a uniform, then being de- 
signed, but this order brought about an awful rumpus among the 

It so happened that a Mr. James W. Gerard, the grandfather of our 
great American Ambassador to the Court of Berlin, also the James 
W. who wrote that very interesting story of "My Four Years in 
Berlin," during the World War, had just returned from a visit to 
London, England, and while he was there. Sir Robert Peel, the head 
of the police force of London, had just introduced a police uniform for 
the men on patrol. Mr. Gerard thought so well of this uniform that 
he called upon Mayor Harper, and explained the uniform story from 
London, England, and while he was there. Sir Robert Jr'eel, the heau 
from this conversation came our beautiful police uniform, I mean of 
the past. I don't care for the uniform of today. 

The uniform in question was nothing more or less than a frock coat 
of blue cloth, single breasted, with a stiff upright collar and the letters 
M. P. on the collar. After wearing this so-called uniform for some 


time the men got tired of having the people call them the Harper's 
police, or the M. P.'s. They refused to wear the uniform any longer 
as they did not want to be a second edition of the London Bob1>y, or 
a butler in some household. Police Inspector Thorne, a very fine man 
and a favorite among the men, was instructed to use his influence 
with them, but to no avail. The men were holding meetings of protest, 
in Military Hall, 193 Bowery, and elsewhere. 

But after some three or more weeks. Inspector Thorne told the men 
that if they would not wear the uniform on the next tour of duty, 
then he would withdraw from the case and the men would be dismissed. 
But before leaving the good old Inspector said to them, "My good 
men, we have worked in harmony for a long while, and it will hurt me 
to see you lose your jobs, so for my sake and the sake of your 
families consider your positions," and they took a vote then and there 
and concluded to take Inspector Thome's advice and again don the 
uniform. The letters M. P. were removed and a star sewed on the 
collar of the coats, and they were then known as the "Star police." 
The star of hope I presume? The force consisted of seventy-two 
sergeants, and seven hurtdred and seventy-three patrolmen. 

Things were going along very fine when lo and behold the "Astor 
Place Riots" broke out, and for what ? Just because the followers of 
that great American actor, Edwin Forrest, were sore on that 
great English actor, James McCready. The militia was called and 
they shot down those poor fools like rats in a trap, causing a state 
of siege in the city for many weeks. There was no necessity for this, 
as there was lots of room for two good actors like Forrest and Mc- 
Cready, and many more, at that time. 

In 1844, William F. Havemeyer was then elected mayor, and old 
man Jacob Hays who had grown old in the service asked to be retired, 
and George W. Matsell was appointed to succeed him. Mr. Hays lived 
in retirement but a short time, taking sick and dying in his 78th year, 
having been born in 1772. 

George W. Matsell, born in England in 1806, came here with his 
parents, his father keeping a bookstand in the lobby of the old Metro- 
politan Hotel, adjoining Niblo's Garden, a great show house on Broad- 
way and Prince Street. 

This locality was well known to the writer, for we used to go to 
the Garden to see the Karfily Brothers in the "Black Crook," and 
the good old Theatre Comique, the show house of Harrigan and Hart, 
was not far away, almost facing old "Stanwix Hall," the meeting place 
of big Bill Poole and his "Knownothing Party" of that time. It was in 
this same hall that Poole was shot dead, supposedly by one of the John 
Morrissey, or Catholic party, but that was never proven. It was in one 


of the free-for-all fights that often took place when these rival factions 
met, that Poole was killed. 

George W. Matsell held the position of chief of police for twelve 
years, every one of which was cursed with riots, among them the 
"Astor Place Riots," the "Doctor's Riots," and the "Bowery Boys" 
and the "Dead Rabbits" were constantly fighting, with crime rampant 
everywhere about the city. Chief Matsell appointed several able lieuten- 
ants to assist him, among whom were George W. Walling, Robert 
Brownsen, and W. Stephens, and after they had conferred and mapped 
out a course of action determined to take a decisive step in the right 
direction and go after the crimesters. 

The city was visited with another big fire like that of 1835. 

From 1845 to 1853, the board of aldermen held the power of ap- 
pointment of all members of the police force, but they found it im- 
possible to discipline the patrol force for any and all infractions of 
the rules and regulations then in force so that an appeal was taken to 
the Legislature and it at once took the necessary action, and passed a 
law making the Mayor, the Recorder, and the City Judge trial com- 

In 1857, the State Legislature passed a law known as the Metro- 
politan Police Act. This act did not satisfy Mayor Fernando Wood 
nor Chief Matsell. They were of the opinion that the Legislature had 
exceeded its authority, deeming this act unconstitutional and an in- 
fringement on the Home Rule of the city. Chief Matsell took his 
orders from Mayor Wood only, and many of the patrolmen did like- 
wise, refusing point blank to recognize the police commissioners ap- 
pointed under the Metropolitan Police Act. This state of affairs 
brought about an awful conflict between Mayor Wood and the state 
authorities, also the question of who had the right to appoint a street 
cleaning commissioner to succeed Commissioner Taylor, who had just 

After exhausting all the resources of the law to evade obedience to 
the act, the Mayor and the municipal government finally caused it to be 
referred to the Court of Appeals. But before the final decision came 
more blood was spilled. On the 16th of June matters were brought to 
a crisis by the forcible ejection of Commissioner Daniel D. Conover 
from the City Hall, who had been appointed street cleaning com- 
missioner by Governor King to fill a vacancy caused by the death of 
the fornier incumbent. Several men were named for the office by 
both parties, but nothing being done the fighting was renewed, and 
open to all, Irishmen or Dutchman, everybody was welcome, but there 
is a finish to everything. 

Mr. Conover at once applied for and was given a warrant to serve 


on Mayor Wood by the recorder charging Mayor Wood with inciting 
a riot, and he also applied to Judge Hoffman for another warrant 
charging the Mayor with causing him to be personally assaulted. After 
arming himself with the two warrants he was escorted back to the 
city hall by fifty members of the metropolitan police. The captain in 
charge of the metropolitan police, George Washington Walling, one of 
the greatest policemen that ever drew the breath of life, a man of 
sterling ability, and one who would not take water from a "Finn Mc- 
Cool," the celebrated strong man of Ireland. I will write a few of 
Captain Walling's escapades later on, just to verify my previous 

Captain Walling tried very hard to get into the city hall to serve the 
warrant on Mayor Wood, and being a man of peace he did not want 
to use force if it could be prevented. Captain Walling held one 
warrant while Mr. Conover held the other and tried to serve it on the 
other side of the city hall, with the same success as Captain Walling, 

Mayor Wood with an armed force knocked down every newcomer, 
and soon there was a hurry call sent out for every doctor in the city, 
but did they get them? Why, no, for while the police forces were 
fighting each other the "Atlantic Guard'' or "Bowery Boys" and the 
"Dead Rabbits" were fighting for supremacy on Bayard Street near 
the Bowery, with the result that there were six persons murdered and 
over a hundred wounded. This was a sorry day for this grand old 
city. Captain Isaac Rynders was trying to prevent the notorious Dead 
Rabbits from Murderers' Row, in the five points district of the old 
sixth ward, from committing depredations. Old Captain Rynders was 
the captain of the Bowery Boys or "Atlantic Guard" who, organized 
as a police reserve as it were, did pretty good work in their time. 

In the meantime, the police commissioners called Mr. Conover and 
Captain Walling into consultation, at the end of which they called 
upon Captain Walling to go and serve the warrants alone. Good old 
Captain Washington Walling, nothing daunted, said, "Give me the 
warrants, I will serve them or my life will pay the forfeit," and ofif 
he went and made good, for this grand old man was never known to 
do otherwise. He left his men standing at ease out in City Hall Park, 
and alone walked right up to the entrance of the city hall, and de- 
manded to be admitted, and he was admitted all right, for Mayor Wood 
and his men knew Wash Walling, and they dared not refuse his re- 
quest. Of course this made Captain Walling a hero in the eyes of 
all, and he was forever after obeyed and respected accordingly. 

Early in the morning Colonel Stephens of the Seventh Regiment 
was on his way to Boston, and as they were marching down Broad- 
way, were called on to quell the riot around the city hall. This was 


the thickest fight of all : and the Captain gave the order to his men — 
left turn, forward march ! and when they were within ten feet of the 
fighting cops, he gave the order to charge and use your muskets. 
They did charge, and soon put an end to the Donnybrook Fair then 
raging, and after driving Mayor Wood and his men into the city 
hall, Colonel Stephens gave the order of aboutface and on to Boston. 

The Metropolitan Police Act being declared constitutional. Mayor 
Wood at once quit the fighting game, and everything was at peace 
among the police forces, but Heavenly Father, what a state of siege the 
city was in that day! 

The year 1857 was a disastrous one for old New York, a year of 
mob rule, beginning with civil strife and ending with financial ruin. 
In the spring of that year the State Legislature passed several bills 
relating to the city, and amended the charter in several important 
particulars. The charter and state elections which had always been 
held on the same day were separated. The first Tuesday in December 
was fixed for the charter elections. But the most important innovation 
was the transferring of the police department from the city to state 
government. By the Metropolitan Police Act, a police district was 
created comprising the counties of New York, Kings, Westchester, 
and Richmond ; and a board of police commissioners was instituted to 
be appointed for a term of five years by the governor of the state, and 
to have sole control of the police administration of the above-named 
counties. Prior to this act the city was governed by a municipal police 
force which, on the whole, was inadequate for the duties that it was 
called upon to perform, and did not give general satisfaction. 

The Metropolitan Police Act of 1857 provided for the establish- 
ment of a Police Life and Health Insurance Fund for the benefit of 
policemen disabled in the performance of duty, or if killed to go to 
the support of their wives and families. In 1857, the time of the 
conflict of authority between Mayor Fernando Wood and the newly 
appointed police commissioners, the police headquarters was removed 
from the city hall to 88 White Street, and six months later to 413 
Broome Street. 

Chief Matsell, who sided with Mayor Wood all through the con- 
flict, was ordered to appear before the police commissioners, and 
show cause, but this he refused to do, and was forthwith dismissed 
from the force by the board. 

By the provisions of the Act of 1857, establishing a police board of 
five members to govern the police department, the mayors of New York 
and of Brooklyn who had been performing the duties of police com- 
missioners were relieved of these duties forthwith. The police board 
consisted of a commissioner from each county. This change was not 


without its advantages, for it secured harmony of action, and the con- 
stant attention of the board at all times. 

Mayor Wood appealed to the Board of Police Commissioners to 
reinstate ex-Chief Matsell, stating that Mr. Matsell was doing nothing 
but his duty as he saw it. But this request was denied. 

In 1858, the population of the city was 820,000. Police headquarters 
was at 413 Broome Street, and the police force numbered 1,430 of all 
ranks. The arrests for the year ending December 31, 1858, was New 
York, 61,445, Brooklyn, 13,918. Superintendent Daniel Carpenter, in 
his quarterly report, stated that, "In submitting my report I am sorry 
to say that there were on January 31, 1859, seven thousand seven 
hundred and seventy-nine places open for the purpose of selling liquor 
at retail." From the reports of police captains of nineteen precincts, 
it appears that there were four hundred and ninety-six houses of 
prostitution and eighty-four houses of assignation. These included one 
hundred and seventy lager beer and drinking saloons, combined with 
houses of ill-fame ; one hundred and eighty-five low grogeries, where 
well-known thieves and fallen women daily and nightly resorted, but a 
strict police surveillance was kept over them, thereby keeping them 
from committing depredations that they otherwise would have done. 

I will ask my readers to please compare this report with the police 
report of January, 1924, not a house of prostitution in this big city, with 
its wonderful population, thanks to the present police administration? 
No, not in the last four years has there been a house of that nature 
open knowingly, to the contrary notwithstanding. The board of super- 
visors shortly before had increased the force to one thousand two 
hundred and fifty men. 

In November, 1859, there were including the entire district one 
thousand six hundred and ninety-nine members of the metropolitan 
police force, to wit: A superintendent and two deputy superintend- 
ents, a chief clerk, a deputy chief clerk, a property clerk, and six as- 
sistants, police surgeons, five captains, thirty-two sergeants, and one 
hundred and thirty-five patrolmen on patrol duty, one thousand three 
hundred and twenty-four; policemen on detail duty, one hundred and 
eighteen ; and doormen seventy-three. 

April 10, 1860, the Metropolitan Police Act was amended by the 
Legislature. The metropolitan police districts were then changed to 
comprise the counties of New York, Kings, Westchester, and Rich- 
mond, and the towns of Newtown, Flushing, and Jamaica, Queens 
County. The governor then appointed the following-named citizens 
as police commissioners to fill vacancies : John G. Bergen, Amos Pills- 
bury, and James Brown. Mr. Pillsbury resigned and Thomas G. Ac- 
ton was appointed to succeed him. 


May 23, 1860, the Board of Police Commissioners appointed to the 
position of superintendent, Police Captain John A. Kennedy to succeed 
Amos Pillsbury, he being appointed police commissioner. The office 
of deputy superintendent was then abolished. The following were 
appointed police inspectors: Daniel Carpenter, James S. Folk, George 
W. Dilks, and James Leonard. 

The Police Board then increased the salary of all members of the 
force — not much, but every little bit helps, and the men were happy 
and thankful for same. In this same year the grand jury of New York 
requested the police board to supervise the cleaning of the streets. 

Old police headquarters at 300 Mulberry Street was built in 1863, 
and it cost some two hundred and thirty thousand dollars to build, 
including the land and additions of later years, namely 1868-1869. The 
money to build was taken from a fund accumulated by careful economy 
from the annual appropriations for the maintenance of the police de- 
partment of New York, with the assistance of contributions from the 
pocketbooks of many of our good citizens and visitors who are and 
have ever been willing to aid and assist their public servants. 

We have them today, thanks to Police Commissioner Enright. We 
have the following good men who have done wonders for the rank 
and file of this great police department of ours. I speak of the Hon. 
Rodman Wanamaker, John Harriss, Coleman Du Pont, R. A. C. 
Smith, Col. Waldo, Col. Herman Metz, Col. Walter Scott, William H. 
Todd, John M. Shaw, Edmond A. Guggenheim, Barron Collier, George 
McDonald, John F. Birmingham and Charles G. Young. All of these 
good men have given both time and money to make possible the Police 
Recreation Camp. The Police Hospital, that was to be built and pro- 
vided for by those good men but some foolish policemen stood in their 
own light and this matter is laid aside for the present. 

Yes, dear readers, there are many things that I could add to the 
above wonderful things done by these good men, and on behalf of the 
rank and file of the police department of New York, we thank each 
and every one of them from the bottom of our hearts for their many 
kindnesses of the past. 

"Many can help one, where one cannot help the many." 

That famous old white building on Mulberry Street is a landmark 
which will never be forgotten by many of us old timers, for we received 
our appointments, our promotions, our demotions, yes, and fines, in that 
good old Castle of Joys and Sorrows, and they were many. 

Gee, I would like if I could, to tell you at this time of the many 
things that I know about this grand old building. I was told many years 
ago that the Police Commissioners borrowed some one hundred and 
fifty thousand dollars from the funds of the Police Life Insurance 


Fund, the Police Pension Fund of today, to help finish 300 Mulberry 
Street, but they forgot to pay it back. Your humble servant don't 
know the particulars. Do you? 

When old police headquarters of 300 Mulberry Street was thrown 
open for business in 1863, everybody was happy, the city was doing 
well, the population at this time was one million four hundred thousand, 
and the police force numbered one thousand eight hundred and fifty-six, 
the city was then as now divided into precincts comprising all territory 
lying south of 152d Street. 

And like the cursed World War, along came the Civil War, that 
also carried ruin and destruction, death and misery, in its wake, when 
conscription was forced upon our citizens, bringing about the terrible 
"Draft Riots" of 1863. 

Among those of our good friends of the past, our Japanese friends 
did us a very fine compliment. I will try to the best of my ability to 
tell my readers this very interesting story. The Ambassador from the 
Government of Japan visited New York in June, 1860, and being 
carried away with the good treatment received from the members of the 
force, he contributed the sum of thirteen thousand seven hundred and 
fifty dollars, with the recommendation that it be set aside to constitute 
a fund to be known as the Japanese Merit Fund, the interest of which 
was to be used as follows : To the members of the police department 
performing the best police duty, for the preceding year — captains, two 
hundred dollars ; sergeants, one hundred and twenty-five dollars ; and 
to the five patrolmen best performing their duty for the preceding 
year, one hundred dollars. 

To my mind the Japanese deserved great thanks for instituting a 
fund of that character, for it brought about among the men a spirit 
of inspiration, for the sums allowed meant an awful lot to the winners 
either at that time or the present, for one could buy a whole lot of 
kiddies' shoes and other household wants for a hundred bucks. But let 
me ask, what on earth ever became of that grand fund? Was it, too, 
allowed to die, like other good police organizations until Lieutenant 
Richard E. Enright came into being as a police promoter and life 
saver? Maybe some of my good readers can answer the question, for 
I can't. It is very hard for me to know or surmise how both the inter- 
est and principal of such a fund could all be swallowed up in twenty- 
nine or thirty years, as I never heard of the fund in my time on the 

But I do remember that we had a Chinese visitor here who the 
policemen of the day, but not I, had to carry around ; I think they called 
him Le Hi Hung Chang. I never heard of his creating a fund of that 
good and comforting spirit. Maybe it was the case of the Chief send- 


ing his man Friday along to do the collecting, as was done in a certain 
case in which the writer was interested. Of course, the cover is that 
he goes along to represent the police department, as it were. 

In all of my connections with the force I never saw anybody running 
to give a fellow a hundred dollars to do proper police duty ; the commis- 
sioners would much rather take away a hundred or so from a poor devil 
of a man, it made no difference if he was married and blessed with a 
big family or not, but that made no difference, a man is a man for all 
of that. Why glory be, I remember a police commissioner ordering a 
roundsman to make fifteen or more complaints a year or be demoted. 
What did that mean? But believe me there were not a one demoted, 
for we old cops thought too much of a good boss who's motto was, 
"Live and let live." We made sacrifices even to the extent of harming 
our records, that worked against us looking for promotion. 



The City in the Hands of a Frenzied Mob — an Emergency in 
WHICH the Police Force Covered with Glory and Gore. 
Popular Discontent Growing Out of a Latent Sympathy 
WITH the Southern Cause. The Method Adopted for the 
Enforcement of the Draft, and What it Led up to. (Not 
the Most Judicious One.) Superintendent Kennedy's 
Arrangements in Anticipation of the Coming Trouble, and 
How the Mobs got Square with Him Later on, by Assault- 
ing Him When Alone, Leaving Him Lying of the Sidewalk 
All but Dead. Police Commissioner Acton Assumes Com- 
mand OF the Force, Ordering Inspector Carpenter to Take 
His Men and Face the Rioters. And the Inspector Losing 
NO Time Gave the Order, "By the Right Flank, Company, 
Charge !" 

You see I have been leading up to the next chapter of this little 
work, which to my mind is one of the most interesting and historical 
of all, as I want you to read and know of the police "Heroes" of the 
past, and what they did and how they acted under the severest of fire 
of the "Draft Riots of 1863," days that should never be forgotten by 
us New Yorkers. For after the draft riots, the people who formerly 
despised the men of the police force, learned to love and respect their 
brave defenders. They saw their work, and were carried away with 
their bravery, while the riot was in its worst form, these good men 
fought and won. The people then learned for the first time the true 
worth of a policeman, because New York would have been destroyed, 
but for the heroism displayed by the small handful of policemen facing 
long odds. They sailed into the oncoming crowds in face of, and re- 
gardless of all personal danger, and upheld those famous words, "Faith- 
ful unto Death." 

Yes, dear readers, this story will show you how one policeman 
alone was forced to fight off whole mobs until assistance arrived, not 
a man flinching in the face of such terrible odds. Many of the poor 
hard-worked policemen, hungry and bleeding, were seen lying on the 
streets kicked and trampled on by the wild roaring mobs, who with 



knife and pistol came rushing into the ranks of the unfortunate men 
of the force, who met the onrush in defiance. But peace be to them, 
they never said die, and by their bulldog courage drove the vagabonds 
into the sea and saved the city from destruction. 

"The Draft Riots of 1863" 

On the morning of July 9, 1863, the Police Commissioners, acting on 
an appeal from the Federal Government, began to recruit for volunteers 
to serve in the armies of the United States. And to defray the ex- 
penses of their recruiting the members of the police force and others 
subscribed the sum of twenty-eight thousand six hundred and sixty-nine 
dollars, much of which was given to the families of the recruits. The 
police board, with the means thus afforded it, was enabled to place five 
regiments of infantry and four companies of one hundred men each of 
cavalry in the field. 

The police force for the year 1862, consisted of one superintendent, 
thirty captains, one hundred and twenty-nine sergeants, sixty-four 
roundsmen, one thousand four hundred patrolmen, one hundred and 
seven special duty men in the precincts, and one hundred and seventy- 
four special duty men out of the precincts, and sixty-seven doormen. 

On the morning of July 13, 1863, the city was startled by the law- 
less acts of a formidable mob, which had entered on a career of 
murder, robbery, and arson, that was not completely checked until the 
morning of the seventeenth, and those days were bloody times for the 
police. However admirably they may have behaved in other emer- 
gencies, there has been no occasion on which our police protectors 
covered themselves with more honor then through the terrible draft 
riots which convulsed the city for an entire week. At this period, too, 
they assumed a higher role than is generally allotted to them. They 
became not only the defenders of lives and property of their fellow 
citizens, but also the vindicators of the national honor. They fought 
for the Union in the streets of New York, just as truly as the soldiers 
of the Republic were doing on the banks of the Potomac. Day after 
day they went out to combat forces greatly superior to their number; 
day after day they imperilled Hfe and limb ; they left their own homes, 
wives, and children unprotected to obey the call of duty. Nothing 
more honorable can be said of them, as a body, than that in the face 
of every difficulty there was no faltering. It is not recorded that any 
one man failed to respond to the demands of the hour; it is not on 
record that any man shirked duty, however dangerous or unpleasant it 
might be. And it is also recorded that the utmost bravery, energy, 

'' '^*^'-4 


Courtesy of Underwood & Underwood 


Governor of New York. 


Mayor of New York City. 


and good judgment were displayed by both the commanders and their 

July, 1863, the tide of war turned against the Confederacy, but the 
fearful mortality and the wearying eflfects of the long-continued strife 
had at last compelled the Federal Government to resort to conscription 
to recruit and strengthen the armies of the Union. This proceeding 
was authorized by an act of Congress passed in March, 1863. President 
Lincoln's Proclamation, ordering the levying of three hundred thousand 
men, was dated April 8th, but July was the time appointed for the 
Draft. At this juncture the enemy had invaded Pennsylvania, and the 
Governor entreated assistance from the adjoining states. 

Governor Seymour of New York responded by directing General 
Sanford, commander of the city militia, to forward at once every avail- 
able regiment at his disposal to the seat of war for thirty days' service. 
While the troops were absent, the United States authorities attempted 
to enforce the draft, and this order brought about the terrible insurrec- 
tion. The elements of disorder and crime united their forces, and 
were then joined by thousands of frenzied workingmen and idlers. 
"For three days and three nights," says a chronicler of these events, 
"the rioters maintained a reign of terror." Houses were plundered and 
the torch set to them, as also was the office of the Provost Marshal, the 
mob then marched to the colored orphan asylum, and they set fire to 
the building also. It was then that the police rushed in on them, and 
there was a hand-to-hand fight, yes, a free-for-all that lasted many 

The mob was frantic, and it made no difference who was against 
them, man, woman, or child, they attacked them, particularly the colored 
people — women, and children even — it made no difference. This was 
a bloody day's work of hanging the negroes to a lamp-post, and fighting 
the police. 

"They tore down our National flag and trampled it underfoot, 
robbed stores and searched every place to get firearms, and all this 
in daylight, which goes to show the state of mind that existed." 

Here the police again showed wonderful courage, only a handful of 
them, but what damage they did do to the mob ! They were lying 
crippled and bleeding on all sides, and after the mob had been driven 
off, the policemen had to remain and attend to the dead and wounded. 
Thomas C. Acton, President of the Board of Police Commissioners, 
took entire charge, and he issued his orders with the coolness and skill 
of a trained military officer, a veteran. 

The drafting met with the bitterest of opposition. There were many 
persons who conscientiously believed that as a method of raising soldiers 
conscription was contrary to the spirit of all American institutions — 


entirely forgetting that the first necessity with governments, as with 
individuals, is self-preservation. The same thing happened here in 
New York in 1917, when President Wilson called for volunteers, Con- 
gress having declared war against Germany — we had to have men. 
But there were no such scenes as there was in 1863, no, no. Your 
police department of today was ready for any and all emergencies, and 
had the matter well in hand, and you, my readers, know the rest. 

The police department today under Commissioner Enright is a 
military unit, with its machine guns and well-trained men of the riot 
battalion, and is prepared to take the field instantly; and when tired of 
using the machine guns, it can use the night stick, so New York is safe 
forever. So that the boys and even the girls of all good Americans 
went forward and offered their services, and went away to do their 
bit, many of them making the "supreme sacrifice," peace be to them. 
I, thank God, contributed by having two of my sons and five nephews 
in the service of our beloved country, and I at home did my own little 

But the principal source of discontent lay deeper. It grew out of a 
latent sympathy with the southern cause, which pervaded large classes 
of persons in the North. If a conscription were enforced those persons 
saw that they might be obliged to fight in the army of the Union 
against the side with which they had sympathized, or, at best, in 
furtherance of a cause for which they held no love. Thus it happened 
from the very day of the proclamation, the symptoms of trouble were 
discernible. An association, named the "Knights of the Golden Circle," 
was formed with the object, it was supposed, of rebelling against the 
draft, and a certain portion of the public press assumed a very in- 
flammatory tone. It must be confessed that the method adopted by 
the National Government for the enforcement of the draft was not the 
most judicious possible. Instead of making requisitions on the au- 
thorities of the various states for certain quotas of men, to be picked 
out from the general body of citizens by lot, the War Department 
sent its provost marshals into the various districts to take charge of the 
selection of the conscripts. 

This course greatly increased the popular exasperation, and during 
the preliminary work, signs and omens of the coming trouble were not 
wanting in little old New York. Thus in the ninth conscription district, 
which included the lower part of the city, Captain Joel T. Erhardt, the 
Provost Marshal, narrowly escaped with his life while performing the 
necessary duty of collecting the names of those liable to be drafted. 
He was ordered by Colonel Nugent, the Provost Marshal for the whole 
city, to personally collect the names of some workmen, engaged on a 
building at Liberty Street and Broadway, who had refused to register 


when the regular enrolling officers approached them. Captain Erhardt 
was assailed with a crowbar. He drew his revolver and prevented the 
attack, but after waiting some time for assistance, he was at last com- 
pelled to retreat before the wild, infuriated mob. 

More than one incident of this character created much anxiety 
among the authorities as the date of the draft drew nigh, and yet it is 
doubtful even to this day if there was any organized design to resist. 

Information was given the police that a plan was on foot to seize 
the state arsenal at Seventh Avenue and Thirty-Fifth Street, before 
commencing the draft Saturday, July 11th. 

This was probably the case; but it is believed that the design ex- 
tended no further. When this scheme was defeated by the measures 
taken by Superintendent Kennedy — as soon will be described — it is 
more than probable that no definite course was marked out by the law- 
breakers. When the first act of violence was committed on Monday, 
July 13th, it is likely that the members of the mob had no idea beyond 
that of breaking up the draft, and perhaps taking vengeance on some 
of the officials in charge of it. That afternoon and the succeeding days, 
an entirely new element entered the tumult. 

The thirst for vengeance had grown furious ; the craving for plunder 
had taken possession of the lower elements of the population. The 
draft became a pretext for lawlessness, the real objects of which was 
the gratification of instincts for rapine and destruction. The riots 
were no longer draft riots, but riots for bread and booty. 

Their desperate character was in no way lessened, however. On 
the contrary, the second day's fighting was the bitterest of all. The 
police were under the able management of Commissioners Thomas C. 
Acton and James J. Bergen, Commissioner Bowen having resigned to 
join the army of the Union. John A. Kennedy was superintendent; 
Daniel Carpenter, George W. Dilks, and James Leonard were m- 
spectors. The violent proceedings of the rioters had, as the Police 
Commissioners were convinced, a political origin, motive, and direction, 
and received sympathy and encouragement from newspapers and parties 
of influence and intelligence. 

The Board of Commissioners had long been threatened with sum- 
mary removal, which was expected to occur at any moment. Members 
of the force desired the removal, and a spirit of insubordination had 
crept in among the members of the force — the fruit of the expected 

"Under these new and extraordinary circumstances," to quote from 
the annual report of the Commissioners to the Legislature, "there were 
apprehensions that the force might fail in united action, or be em- 
barrassed by sympathy with the rioters, and be overpowered and 


beaten." But the apprehensions proved to be groundless. The force 
acted as a unit, and with an energy, courage, and devotion rarely ex- 
hibited. The keenest observation failed to discover that political, 
religious, or national feeling had any influence adverse to the efficient 
action of the force. The courage that arises from aggregation of 
numbers, the steadiness and celerity of movement which resulted from 
organization and drill, and the fidelity and pride of the corps which 
result from discipline, were exhibited in a most gratifying degree, con- 
sidering the numerous and severe contests, the disparity of numbers, 
and the advantages enjoyed by the mob from their entrenched posi- 
tions in the tenement houses, the small number of policemen killed and 
wounded is a subject of congratulation. The number wounded was 
eighty, but of that number three died from the effects shortly after. 

Unfortunately the drafting commenced on Saturday, July 11th. 
But there was no special disturbance, only that the whole aspect of the 
city was uneasy. Sergeant Van Orden with fifteen men took possession 
of the Seventh Avenue Arsenal very early in the morning. 

Throughout the day there were several dashes made by the mob 
to try to overcome the police and enter the Arsenal, but the police 
stood their ground, never backing an inch, defeating their enemies 
every time. 

The drafting, too, passed off peaceably in the two districts — the 
ninth and eleventh — appointed for that day, and the good people began 
to hope that the danger was over — that the popular discontent would 
not reach the point of open attack or outbreak. Under more favor- 
able circumstances this might have been so, but the day was unfavorable. 
All of the Sunday newspapers came out with the long list of names 
of conscripts. They were eagerly scanned in all of the tenements of 
the city. The people found the names of relatives or friends among 
those listed, and their rage grew into proportion. All day Sunday, 
excited groups of men and women discussed the situation both in the 
houses and on the streets, and above all in the brothels and rum shops 
of the different districts, and by midnight they were ready for any 
madness. Monday's sun rose hot and angry upon the seething city, the 
people came pouring from the tenements to face the fact that a fresh 
raid was to be made on their homes and firesides by the demon of war. 
Vainly confident in the strength of their numbers and passion, they 
determined that this should not be. Superintendent John Kennedy was 
not idle ; he saw what was coming, and he prepared for the worst. 

The drafting was to proceed at two points that day, 1190 Broadway, 
and Third Avenue and Forty-Sixth Street. The superintendent then 
sent a force of men to protect the marshals at the drafting quarters. 


and a force of men to protect the Arsenal on Seventh Avenue. Captain 
Speight of the twenty-ninth precinct took charge at 1190 Broadway, 
and stationed a force of men there before nine a. m., ready for any 
emergency. The men knowing what was before them rested up so that 
they would be prepared, and gee they were certainly in for a hot old 
time. In the meantime. Superintendent Kennedy sent out an order 
for all reserves to report to police headquarters, and as they reported 
he dispatched them off to strengthen the forces where needed. 

Captain Speight had twenty men of his own command, ten men 
of the eight precinct, under the command of Sergeant Wade, ten men 
of the ninth precinct, under command of Sergeant Mangin, fourteen 
men of the fifteenth precinct, under the command of Sergeant 
McCredie, and ten men from the twenty-eight precinct, under the com- 
mand of Sergeant Wolfe. This total force of sixty-nine men struck 
terror into the mob that was collecting fast and furious, and kept them 
at bay. Everything was going along well, the drafting was holding 
its own, at noon the board adjourned. The auxiliary forces were then 
ordered to report to Third Avenue and Forty-Sixth Street, where the 
state of things was very much different. Captain Speight and his 
gallant boys remained in charge of the office until four p. m. They 
were then ordered to fall in and march down to police headquarters, 
in response to an order received. 

During the day Captain Speight and his men were kept busy break- 
ing up the riotous mobs, and maintained peace wherever assigned. But 
shortly after leaving, the mobs were reinforced and they started in 
again to destroy everything and everybody, smashing windows and 
doors, burning all before them. They began their dirty work by first 
setting fire to the marshal's office, and the entire block on Broadway 
between Twenty-eight and Twenty-Ninth Streets was destroyed by the 

Captain Porter and his men who were protecting the marshal's office 
were attacked by the angry mob and were compelled to fight for their 
lives more than once. The first pitched battle of the riot week was 
staged and fought out that day, the police winning all before them. 
But thanks to Chief Kennedy, Captain Porter, and his men were rein- 
forced by other commanders and their men, or they would never have 
lived to tell the tale. Among those running to the relief of Captain 
Porter were Captain Brower of the seventeenth precinct; Captain 
Palmer of the twenty-first precinct ; Sergeant Gross of the twenty-sec- 
ond precinct, and Sergeant Mangles of the twenty-eighth precinct. 
Each reported to Captain Porter with a squad of men. 

The rioters were not at all slow for they, too, were reinforcing, their 


troops growing to large proportions, the excitement was intense, the 
rioters cursing the police, the negro race, and even our national govern- 
ment, the draft officials, in fact, all public officers. 

Only a spark was needed and soon it came when the leader of the 
rioters shouted, "Stop the cars !" and then there was some great fight- 
ing done by both sides. 

The rioters rushed for the cars, unhitching the horses, and driving 
the drivers and horses away, while the passengers were forced to take 
care of themselves, and they found themselves mixing up with the 
rioters, for they could not make a clean getaway. 

Again and again the police force charged and fought one pitched 
battle after another, but the fact that new men were rallying to the 
assistance of the rioters compelled the boys in blue to give way to the 
opposing forces. It was impossible to try and check the onrushing 
crowds, for the police force was fighting against terrible odds, and 
the men of iron hearts inside their uniform of blue were forced to 
back up into the building to save their lives. It was an awful scene, 
and a picture no artist could attempt to paint. Our brave policemen 
fought hard and lost out. 

The rioters seeing that they had the police on the run, stoned the 
windows and doors until the whole building was a total wreck, and 
they tore into the building fighting every step. It was no use trying 
to check them, for when one rioter was felled another took his place. 
This was a bloody day's work for all concerned. 

The marshal and his aids escaped by the rear, and the men of the 
force that could also escaped through the rear of the building, emerging 
out on Forty-Sixth Street, fighting every inch of ground. The rioters 
set fire to the furniture and then to the whole building, and they tried 
to set fire to the other buildings. The police trying to protect these 
buildings were severely handled by the great crowd. 

It is a pitiful story to write about, but if time would permit I 
would like to write of the heroism of our men in blue, and of the many 
injuries received, but what's the use, "it's a sad story, mates." 

At last it became evident that no good could be served staying there, 
so Captain Porter sounded the retreat, and it was every man for him- 
self, the poor fellows struggling to get back to their respective station 
houses as best they could. 

Chief Decker of the fire department and his men got on the job, 
and tried all they knew to check the fire, but the rioters were constantly 
interfering with them, until one of the leaders shouted, on to that 
black man's orphan asylum, and away they went, willing in their wild 
and frantic state to burn heaven and earth. 


Oh, the wild scenes they made, and while the Police were not afraid 

They were greatly outnumbered. 

Forward they rushed and fell, fighting those dogs of hell, 

This gallant band of bluecoats, less than one hundred. 

At this disastrous moment, by an untoward accident, Superintendent 
John Kennedy put in an appearance on the wild scene. Mr. Kennedy's 
fear of riot had arisen that morning. It being Monday, he was in- 
formed that the street contractor's men had not gone to work at the 
usual hour of seven o'clock, in the nineteenth ward. He at first deemed 
it sufficient to strengthen the police forces at the Provost Marshal's 
offices, in the manner already detailed ; but as the morning progressed 
there showed up fresh indications of trouble. He telegraphed to each 
precinct to call in all of its men on or off duty, and to hold them on 

Towards ten o'clock, he having completed all arrangements ordered 
his wagon and went out on a tour of inspection. He first called on 
Captain Speight at 1190 Broadway, and then visited the Arsenal, leav- 
ing at each point directions to cover any emergency that might arise. 
Turning his horse to the eastward, it was then about twelve o'clock, 
he was approaching the quarter, unknown to him, where the first battle 
of the great riot had been fought and lost to his men. The superin- 
tendent was not in uniform and was totally unarmed. 

It is impossible to avoid the reflection, therefore, that his courage (or 
indiscretion) ran to the point of rashness when he left his wagon at 
Forty-Sixth Street, on perceiving the fire that the rioters had kindled, 
and walked rapidly through the angry crowds towards the fire. Every- 
thing seemed very quiet and everybody good-natured about him, until 
someone cried out, "There's Kennedy!" "Where? Where? Where is 
he ?" demanded a thousand voices, angry and bloodthirsty. 

He was pointed out, and before he had time to realize the situation, 
a cowardly blow from behind sent him down an embankment six feet 
deep, and leading into a vacant lot. In an instant the superintendent 
was on his feet; one glance told him he was in bad company, and he 
beat it quickly, or he would be among the missing very soon, so he 
started off at a fast clip over the hills and dales of this vacant lot, 
while the infuriated rabble pressed hard behind him. He outdistanced 
his pursuers and succeeded in climbing the Forty-Seventh Street 

But here a fresh crowd, just as cowardly and bloodthirsty as the 
first, was waiting for him. They fell upon him with a rush, and for 
the second time he was hurled to the foot of the embankment. And 
the crowd followed him. Mr. Kennedy again regained his feet. A 
desperate burly ruffian tried to dash the Superintendent's brains out 


with a big club, and the poor man had all that he could do to protect 
his head. By this time the Superintendent must have received more 
than fifty blows, but his good Irish-American constitution stood by him 
greatly. Mr. Kennedy, then turned and ran towards Lexington Ave- 
nue, where there was a pond or mud hole of considerable depth and 

"Drown him! Drown him!" shouted the rioters, and a tremendous 
blow sent the poor victim back into the dirty pond, where his face 
struck on some big stones at the bottom, and he was frightfully 
lacerated. But even yet he was not overcome. Making his way through 
the mud and water through which his pursuers were too cowardly to 
follow, he reached Lexington Avenue before they got around. 

As he emerged from the pond he met Mr. Egan, a prominent citizen, 
and begged for aid. Mr. Egan possessed sufficient influence with the 
mob to prevent them from doing any further violence, and Superin- 
tendent Kennedy, now fainting with both pain and exhaustion, was 
laid on a common feed wagon and taken to police headquarters. 

As the wagon drove up. Commissioner Acton was on the stoop. He 
noticed the bruised and bleeding man, but little did he know that it 
was the Superintendent. And when Mr. Kennedy was removed from 
the wagon, Mr. Acton was amazed to see his Superintendent more 
dead than alive. The Commissioner ordered that the Superintendent 
be taken to the home of a friend and kept there until nursed back to 
good health and standing. 

It was a miracle that there were no bones broken, but his good old 
Irish constitution stood him, and he returned to work on Thursday, 
swearing vengeance on his near murdeters. 

While the Superintendent was sick. Commissioner Acton was com- 
pelled to do all of the work of both, and while Inspector Carpenter 
was doing noble work outside, Mr. Acton was doing wonderful work 
inside police headquarters, keeping the machinery going both night 
and day for almost a week. Yes, a bloody dirty hard week at that. 

Commissioner Acton on seeing the condition of Mr. Kennedy, 
started the wires burning good and fast, for his very first step showed 
his consummate generalship. The moment that he realized the extent 
of the disorder, on seeing the Superintendent's terrible condition, he 
telegraphed to every precinct with the exception of the twelfth, from 
which the rioters had cut ofif communication, ordering the entire force 
to concentrate at police headquarters. He also dispatched the steam- 
boat squad with its steamer under the command of Captain Todd, to 
transport to the city all of the federal troops that could be spared from 
the forts in the harbor, and subsequently to land arms for volunteer 
troops. These orders, it may be remarked here, were performed with 

Police Commissioner of New York. 


Courtesy of Police Magazine 


coolness and judgment. The energy displayed by Commissioner Acton 
was wonderful. 

The Commissioner kept up this good work until they had restored 
the city once again to peace and quietness. From six o'clock on Mon- 
day morning until two a. m. the following Friday, he never closed an 
eye in sleep, nor did he leave his office but for a few hours then on 
official business. He was engaged without cessation during the whole 
period. It may serve as some index of his labors to say that he re- 
ceived and answered over four thousand telegrams. He was ably 

Hardly inferior to Commissioner Acton for energy and executive 
action was his colleague, Commissioner John G. Bergen. This gentle- 
man was also constantly at headquarters, sustaining almost equal fatigue 
with Commissioner Acton, and sharing in all of his labors. Chief 
clerk Seth C. Hawley was also a very valuable aid. He was placed 
in charge of the Ordnance Department, serving out the arms and 
ammunition needed by the men as they started on their repeated ex- 
peditions. He also provided for the wants of the wounded, and he 
did all that laid in his power to furnish accommodations for the refugees 
that came to headquarters. Chief John Young, assisted by his men of 
the detective force and Sergeant Lefferts of the Fourth District Court, 
and officer Webb, of the superintendent's office, also had to provide 
for the victualing of the police, military, special constables, and 
refugees, in all over five thousand persons for an entire week, and 
he did it nobly. It is needless to add praise to the statement that all 
were well and sufficiently supplied. Over fifty thousand gallons of 
coflfee, it is said, was served out while the riot lasted, and it must be 
here mentioned to the credit of the entire force — that coffee during all 
the scenes of both terror and excitement, despite all of the blows and 
hardships, was the universal beverage. 

Let us return to Chief Kennedy, and the howling mob, that had 
all but killed him at Lexington Avenue and Forty-Sixth Street. At 
the time that this mob was assaulting Mr. Kennedy, another fierce scene 
was in progress only a few blocks away. Just before noon the reports 
of the agitation wliich prevailed in the nineteenth ward caused the dis- 
patching of the reserves of several precincts on the double quick, the 
men relieved from 1190 Broadway also had to join them, rushing to 
the aid of Captain Porter and his men. 

Among the first of these intended reinforcements to arrive on the 
scene was a squad of thirteen men from the eighth precinct, under the 
command of Sergeant Ellison. This little company was the first to 
encounter the mob at Third Avenue and Thirty-Fourth Street, and a 
desperate hand-to-hand fight ensued. The mob fought furiously, and 


the police were outnumbered a hundred to one, and were compelled to 

Sergeant Ellison, who had been terribly beaten, remained a prisoner 
in the hands of the mob of desperate rioters. But as luck would have 
it, Sergeant Wade and his men came running to the assistance of 
Sergeant Ellison and his men, and after another desperate battle 
Sergeant Ellison was recaptured, more dead than alive. He had de- 
fended himself bravely with his revolver and a gun that he had taken 
from one of the mob. But he had been overwhelmed by large numbers, 
and badly beaten with stones and clubs until he had lost consciousness. 

The mob thinking that they had killed him ran off and two of his 
comrades carried him to the twenty-first precinct station house. 

In this fight Officer Van Buren had a leg broken, Sergeant Wade 
was knocked down by a large stone, and Officer Andre was cut on the 
head so badly that they rushed him to the hospital. Officers Law, Hart, 
Burns, Palmer, and Grolius were also badly wounded. Merher and 
Magersuppe were all badly cut about the head and body. All of the 
officers here named distinguished themselves by their wonderful grit 
and courage in constantly charging the wild mob. 

A platoon of the ninth precinct arrived at Forty-Fourth Street and 
Third Avenue, at the same time as Sergeant Wade, and they charged 
the mob and fought them bitterly with equal courage. To show how 
well the men of this precinct played their part it is but necessary to 
state that the following men were badly hurt, but continued on with the 
bloody conflict in spite of pain, and the blood blinding them. Sergeants 
Mangin and Smith and ten of their men at last had to give up the fight 
for the time being to have their wounds dressed by the surgeons sum- 
moned to the scene, and again returned to the combat. Sergeant Minor 
and Devonport of the tenth precinct with a squad of men were hurry- 
ing to the scene of the fight, and ran into another big mob, but several 
blocks away from the other battleground, and were forced to fight for 
their lives, there being fully twenty to one ; this was a handicap not easily 
gotten over, hence they were forced to fall back and retreat, constantly 
fighting every inch of ground. 

Just imagine, dear readers, have any of you ever been in such a 
predicament? Just like a prizefighter getting knocked down, one for- 
gets all, just thinking only of the disgrace of defeat and retreat. The 
writer has been caught that same way, both in the ring and on the side- 
walks of New York. And my heart goes out today to the unfortunate 
fellow creature that is called upon to fight, with defeat staring him or 
her in the face. It makes no difference what the contest may be, if one 
is handicapped and facing defeat, the mental strain is awful, and no 
doubt many of you know it full well, and maybe like myself have been 


through the mill. But God often turns out to be a good commanding 
chief, as in this case, while these poor fellows were in retreat there 
were several squads of men hurrying to their assistance from different 

The fact that the mob was in possession of the battleground, glory- 
ing in having defeated the police, was because many others of their kind 
were rallying to their assistance, constantly increasing its numbers. 

Sergeant McCredie of the fifteenth precinct was running to the 
fray with a squad of fifteen men, and Sergeant Wolfe of the twenty- 
eight precinct was also hurrying to the scene, and oh, boys, but they 
sailed into that bunch of murderers, and after a stiff fight the rioters 
began to fall back, then turn and run off for their lives. This was an 
awful day's work for both the police and the rioters, for after all we 
are all human. 

It certainly was a remarkable thing to think of all that brutal day's 
fighting that not a man lost his life, that is they were all accounted for 
among the police force, but for the rioters, we cannot speak. It would 
be a very hard matter to account for them, they stole their dead and 
buried them, unknown to all but themselves, and they didn't advertise 
the funerals either. 

Sergeant McCredie, with that good old Irish fighting spirit, won for 
himself that day the name of "Fighting Mac," and he certainly deserved 
the title. He would call off his men, reorganize them, and shout, "For- 
ward men — do or die," and their old night sticks would fly both right 
and left among the poor unfortunate rioters who were being misled 
and fighting a wrong cause, and more's the pity for many good 
father's and mother's sons went to their death, figthing those bloody 
battles, and for what? 

I assure you my friends that the writing up of all this bloody work 
is not very pleasing to the writer, who is now advancing in years, and 
having seen so much of that kind of stuff in his sixty odd years, loves 
to forget. But having undertaken the work of placing this story before 
the good men of the present day, I will write of some other cases, 
but not of all. 

Sergeant McCredie and his men met with the stiffest and most ob- 
s^tinate resistance; but discipline and courage enabled the fighting 
sergeant and his gallant boys to fight their way to Forty-Sixth Street, 
hoping that they would still find Captain Porter and his men on guard. 
Disappointed in this expectation the little storming party found that 
they were hemmed in on all sides by the infuriated crowds, stones 
raining in on them. Their charges were fiercely resisted at every 

Nine men of the fifteenth precinct were knocked out completely, and 


Officer Bennett was knocked down three times before he ceased fight- 
ing, and the last time he laid senseless. In that condition he was 
stripped of his uniform and savagely beaten. His comrades fought on 
until at last they drove off the mob and picked up the lifeless form of 
Officer Bennett, and a few strangers friendly to the police took the body 
to St. Luke's Hospital, and laid it in the dead house. Of course, bad 
news flies fast, for his wife was soon at the door of the hospital asking 
to see the body of her husband. She, being allowed to enter the dead 
house, threw herself on the body of her supposed dead husband, when 
lo and behold she sprang to her feet, almost delirious with joy, when 
she discovered that her husband's heart was beating. Restoratives were 
used and the faithful fellow recovered, though only after three days of 
insensibility followed by a long illness. 

Officer Travis was also taken to St. Luke's Hospital. He was of 
the same precinct, and in trying to escape the crowd a big burly fellow, 
pistol in hand confronted him. Travis clinched with the big brute and 
captured the gun, but Heavenly Father, he was knocked down and 
beaten to a jelly. His jaw and right hand were broken, and the mob 
stripped him naked and beat him up unmercifully. Could a savage 
from the Fiji Islands do any more? 

Officer Phillips also had a terrible run for his life. He disarmed 
one of the rioters, taking a musket from him, but was overcome by the 
mob, and a woman grabbed him, stabbing him with a knife. This poor 
fellow fell from the loss of blood, the demon of a woman liaving stabbed 
him twice, and if it was not for several good citizens, the mob would 
have killed him. It was lucky that these good citizens had some in- 
fluence with the cowardly crowd, and they carried the policeman away. 

Sergeant McCredie was laid low, having been struck with an iron 
bar by one of the mob, and if it had not been for the fact that a 
young Irish woman ran through the crowd and threw herself across his 
fallen body, then poor old "Fighting Mac" would be no more. This 
fighting Irish blade carried Mac to her home and covered him over with 
mattresses, while the rioters searched her house from roof to cellar. 

Officer Sutherland was also knocked senseless with a brick, and laid 
out for dead. Officers Mingay, Broughton, and Gabriel were very 
badly beaten, and Officer Terence Kiernan, after terrible usage, only 
escaped with his life through the intercession of Mrs. Eagan, whose 
husband had helped in saving the life of Superintendent Kennedy. 

The off platoon of the fifteenth precinct, under Sergeant Thacher, 
was ordered to reinforce Sergeant McCredie, but arrived only in time 
to get a severe doing up and a darned rough handling. Officer Bodine 
was beaten into insensibility and stripped, while Officer Gibbs was 
brutally beaten and left for dead on the street. Officers Foster and 


Didway were also brutally beaten, and their bodies shockingly mangled. 
The men of the twenty-eighth precinct also suffered severely in this 
same battle, many of them laid up for repairs. 

Sergeant Wolfe, who was the last to retreat, was cut up in all shapes 
with many cuts on the head. Officer Seibert had an arm, and Officer 
Holley had a finger, broken. Officers Dapke, Polhamus, Bryan, Bass- 
ford, Knight, and Bolman were more or less injured, and subjects for 
the hospital. 

These were not the only collisions between the police and rioters at 
Forty-Sixth Street. A squad of men had been ordered to report at 
this same scene from the eighteenth precinct with Sergeant Vosburg in 
command. This squad was unable to effect a junction with Captain 
Porter, and after a brief but courageous struggle were forced to retreat. 
Officer Wynne of this command was severely beaten and stabbed ; 
Officers Larne and Sanderson were badly beaten and stripped of their 

The men of the thirteenth precinct were badly used up also. At 
noon Captain Thomas Steers, with Sergeants Bird, Smith, and twenty- 
five men, marched to the aid of Captain Porter. They got as far as 
Thirty-Fifth Street, but could penetrate no further through the tur- 
bulent crowd. They therefore, retired to the twenty-first precinct sta- 
tion house, then in East Thirty-Fifth Street, and reported to Sergeant 
Forshay in command. The rioters had been threatening to destroy the 
building, but decamped, afraid to encounter increased force, brought 
there by Captain Steers. 

Having thus defeated the police in detail, the mob dispersed itself 
over the city, plundering and burning in all directions, and above all 
committing frightful atrocities on negroes wherever they were 

Some of the cooler scoundrels among the insurrectionists saw that 
for any lasting success, arms were absolutely necessary. To secure 
these a portion of the mob, at about half -past one o'clock, gathered 
about the large gun factory at Twenty-First Street and Second Avenue, 
where a great quantity of firearms were known to be in storage. This 
movement had been anticipated. Early in the afternoon Sergeant Baun 
field with a squad of men had, by order of Captain John Cameron of 
the eighteenth precinct, taken possession of the building. Later on they 
were relieved by the members of the Broadway squad of thirty-two 
men, under the command of Sergeant Burdick and Roundsmen Ferris 
and Sherwood. The men reached the factory either singly or in pairs, 
escaping the notice of the rioters who had gathered to the scene in 
thousands. Each of the policemen were armed with a carbine and sta- 
tioned at a window. At last the battle began. 


A whirlwind of stones, bricks, and bullets was launched against the 
doors and windows. The defendants dared not show themselves, and 
the fire of the mob was not returned. Then an effort was made to burn 
the building, but without success, and the attack was renewed with 
greater fury than ever. Presently one of the rioters assailed the office 
door with a sledge hammer. The mob awaited the result of his efforts, 
and at last a panel of the door went crashing in. The first man stooped 
to crawl in when a shot was fired from the inside, and he fell back 
with a bullet in his skull. The rioters hesitated, but only for a moment. 
The attack was once again renewed, and Sergeant Burdick sent to 
Captain Cameron for aid. 

He was told that none could be afforded. 

"Then I cannot hold the factory," he sent word. 

"Draw off your men," was response. 

These messages were carried by Sergeant Buckman of the eighteenth 
precinct in disguise, and at great risk. 

The mob had then been held in check four hours, but to hold them 
off any longer seemed impossible. The only means of retreat, however, 
were not cut off, and it laid through a hole in the rear wall of the 
building, about twelve or fourteen inches in size, and eighteen from the 
ground. Through this hole they squeezed themselves and escaped 
through a big stone yard. They had hardly got clear of the factory 
when the rioters broke in seeking their prey. Subsequently the police 
of the eighteenth precinct were forced to make their scape in plain 
clothes, reporting to police headquarters, and detailed on picket duty 
all of Monday night. 


The City Saved from Pillage and Arson, A Defiant and Un- 


THEIR Bodies Burned up. Station Houses and Private 
Dwellings Fired and Ransacked. Bricks, Stones and other 
Missiles Showered on the Heads of the Police from the 
Housetops. Police Retaliation. Arrival of the Military 
UNDER Colonel O'Brien, Who Faced the Many Thousands 
of Rioters and Ordered His Men to Fire, and Charge upon 
the Howling Mobs. Followed by the Police Force Present, 
Driving the Mobs Helter-Skelter every which way, on to 
THE Roofs and into the Cellars of the Houses. The Death 
of Colonel O'Brien, and the Brutal Treatment of His Body 
Lying on the Sidewalk of Second Avenue, the Dirty Work 
OF Wild Savages. 

So far, we have found the mob victorious at every point. But there 
is now a complete -change to come, and from this time forward the 
police, aided by the militia, will be found inflicting a series of crushing 
defeats on the disturbers of the public peace. 

The first of these was inflicted by a force of two hundred men 
under the command of PoHce Inspector Daniel Carpenter, at the corner 
of Broadway and Amity Street. Telegrams were sent to all precincts, 
ordering the commanders to report to police headquarters at three p. m. 
with the whole of their respective commands. This was one of the 
first and best acts to put into operation and end this lawlessness. And 
notice its success. Telegrams were coming into headquarters from the 
business men all over the city, calling for assistance as the rioters were 
burning everything in sight. In fact these telegrams were coming so 
fast that the clerks just could not answer them. Buildings on Broad- 
way and Lexington Avenue were being robbed and fired, the police 
stations were besieged, and in spite of the efiforts of Fire Chief Decker 
and his men, the colored orphan asylum on Fifth Avenue was wrecked 
and burned, the poor unfortunate little inmates narrowly escaping with 
their lives by a back door. 

At four p. m. it was announced that a crowd was on its way to burn 



down police headquarters, and was then marching down Broadway. 
This was the moment for action, and Drill Instructor Officer T. S. 
Copeland, from the available forces, quickly organized a band of two 
hundred picked fighting men from among the hard worked members of 
the force, Officer Copeland himself leading, a second in command to 
Inspector Carpenter. 

Inspector Carpenter made a brief speech to the men of his com- 
mand. He said, "My men, we are going to put down this mob. Take 
no prisoners, but strike both quick and hard. Forward, march, to 
Hell or Victory." And quickly up Broadway to meet the rascals that 
would have the audacity to even murmur that they would destroy police 
headquarters went good old Dan Carpenter and his fighting Light 
Brigade. And what did they do? They met the regiment of rioters at 
Amity Street, who were carrying signs with the following words painted 
on, "No Draft." They were armed with weapons of all kinds, swords, 
clubs, crowbars, pitchforks, and weapons of most every conceivable 
kind. Guns and pistols were very prominent. 

They met face to face, and the bloody battle commenced. The men 
of the police force being encouraged by the remarks of Inspector Car- 
penter, were willing to fight, and if needs be to die, to preserve the 
peace, and in two shakes of a lamb's tail the clear voice of Dan Car- 
penter rang out on that bright sunny day at Amity Street and old 
Broadway. No veteran of army or navy could issue a command more 
coolly, just as if he had seen service on the field of battle, at Bull Run, 
or Mary's Heights. 

And the moment the order of, "Come, men, come, men, fight quickly, 
and take no prisoners," in they went hammer and tongs, and before 
long had the regiment of rioters backing up and in flight. And later 
on when the Inspector, gave the second order as follows, "By the right 
flank, company front, double quick, charge," in an instant the police 
flew at the rioters again, demoralizing them to such an extent that they 
lost all control of themselves. 

The men were led on by Inspector Carpenter himself, striking the 
first blow in the fearful fight when he sprang at the leader of the 
rioters, breaking his skull. This act discouraged the rioters altogether, 
and they flew for their fives, leaving their comrades lying on the street, 
bleeding, dying. They threw away the banners they were carrying, 
and the police chased them for several blocks, they having had enough 
of Dan Carpenter and his men. 

Having cleaned them all up and in good shape, the Inspector sang 
out to his men, "Fall in," and after he had inspected his men he 
marched them up Broadway and over to Fifth Avenue to the house of 
Mayor Opdyke, which also had been threatened with destruction, but 

Honorary Police Commissioner, Former Comptroller of the City of New York; Member 
of Congress, and Colonel of State Ordnance Officers of the National Guard of the 
State of New York; Colonel of the Officers' Reserve Corps. 

Second Deputy Police Commissioner. 

Third Deputy Police Commissioner. 

Fourth Deputy Police Commissioner. 

Bureau of Repairs and Supplies. 


on finding all quiet marched his men back to police headquarters. That 
great battle at Amity Street decided the fortunes of the city. 

After this grand successful battle the defeat of the rioters was but 
a question of a short time, and some more hard fighting, and the police 
had won. It was at once demonstrated that the crowds could not stand 
up in the face of discipline, and they went to pieces particularly when 
they were forced to trample over the dead body of their own leader. 

There were many good fighting records made by the police that day, 
and among those who had won distinction in that battle were the follow- 
ing: Roundsman Connor of the first precinct; Sergeants McConnell 
and Garland of the seventh precinct ; Sergeants Wade and O'Connor of 
the eighth precinct; Sergeant Mackey of the fourteenth precinct; 
Sergeant Roe and Officer Berhebt of the fifteenth precinct, — both of 
whom captured ringleaders of the riot; also Sergeant Bennett and 
Officers Doyle, Thompson, and Rhodes of the twenty-seventh precinct. 

Officer Doyle knocked down and out the rioters' standard bearer, 
and Officer Thompson captured the national flag from their hands. 

It might be well to state at this time that Amity Street is also famous 
in the history of New York City as being the fighting ground of the 
two most famous men of their day. I speak of John Morrissey, leader 
of the Catholic party, and a former Senator and Congressman, and Bill 
Poole, leader of the Know-nothing party, and a Washington market 
butcher by trade. They fought one of the bloodiest fights ever recorded 
on Amos Street Dock, at the foot of Amity Street, on the North 
River, Sunday morning, July 26^ 1864. This was a cowardly brutal 
fight and, in my mind, there should be no decision given under the 
circumstances. The story of the doing of these two famous parties 
of that day is to my mind interesting and instructive. The writer is 
compiling the manuscript of 'Tistiana/' a history of the prize ring 
from 1729 to the present day, and hopes to have this work in the hands 
of the printer shortly. 

After the great victory at Amity Street and Broadway, Inspector 
Daniel Carpenter took a short but well-deserved rest. While the In- 
spector was resting. Sergeant Copeland organized another fighting 
battalion of two hundred men, including one hundred men from 
Brooklyn, then a part of the Metropolitan police force, under the com- 
mand of Inspector John S. Folk, and with this body of fighting men. 
Inspector Carpenter marched to the relief of the "Tribune Building" 
at Nassau and Spruce Streets. 

The rioters were very sore at Horace Greeley, owner of the Tribune, 
because of his views as an abolitionist and an advocater of the Civil 
War. They swore to tear down and burn the building, and would have 
made good their words, but for the good fighting men of the old fourth 


precinct. It was this small body of men that saved the lower part of 
the city from destruction. 

And this is the story. A telegram was received at the fourth precinct 
station house, No. 9 Oak Street, that a mob of five thousand rioters was 
then marching down to fire the Tribune Building, and other buildings 
of like character. The sergeant in command at once sent out a riot 
call, and every man of the platoon of forty men responded. (You must 
understand that most of these men were at home enjoying a day off as 
it were. Under the old two-platoons system, a policeman got a day off 
every two days.) But please don't get mixed up, this day off con- 
stituted twelve hours only, and if you had a case in court, it made 
no difference you had to be ready to go on patrol at six p. m. every 
second evening, or to make it plainer, six p. m. one night and twelve 
midnight, next night, and this after doing a day's work on patrol that 
same day. Yes it was a tough life to live. 

These forty good and well tried policemen, and when I said tried, 
I am satisfied that I ought to know, for experience makes fools wise; 
I worked in this same good old precinct long before Dr. Parkhurst 
came forward in his spirit of reform, and to what extent I really cannot 
say. This handful of men marched down Chatham Street, on to Print- 
ing House Square, and there formed a hollow square and fought back 
the five thousand rioters, driving them helter-skelter, up through Park 
Row, holding them there until relief arrived. 

To provide against any emergencies the employees of all the news- 
papers offices were supplied with firearms from the military barracks 
of Governor's Island, which were brought over by the steamboat squad, 
Patrolman Blackwell in charge of same and who was held responsible 
for the safe delivery of them, and great prudence and good judgment 
was the order of the day. 

Captain Thomas W. Thorne of the twenty-sixth precinct (the old 
City Hall squad) was on duty night and day, protecting the city hall 
and other buildings, and he was kept busy, I can assure you, keeping 
five men in citizens' clothes mixing up among the rioters to get much 
needed information. Captain Bryan of the fourth precinct, and only 
one-half of his command with Sergeants Rode and Williams was very 
busy all that day, what with his holding the mob in check at one place 
and protecting the colored people in another, and preventing the destruc- 
tion of buildings in another he was hard pressed, waiting for aid. 

Trouble broke out in so many different places at the one time that 
it was very hard to know where to send the reserve force first, and 
so it went on all of that night and into the next day, the poor un- 
fortunate men having no rest or eats, which is most trying to say the 


The officers in citizens' clothes obtained much valuable information, 
reporting to their respective superiors every now and again, thus en- 
abling them to force the fighting in one place and then report to some 
other spot, and with the several precincts combined they sailed into the 
crowds. Trouble broke out in the first ward, and Captain Warlow of 
the twenty-sixth precinct and the men of the first precinct, rushed the 
crowd and drove them all down to the Battery, many going over the 
sea wall. 

Sergeants Cheery and McCleary of the first precinct ran into a 
crowd of rioters in New Street, and were severely beaten, but stood 
their ground until Captain Warlow and his men came to their assist- 
ance. Captain Warlow then learned that a crowd had gathered at the 
post office building on Park Row, and he ran at double quick gait and 
soon had that mob running in all directions. Sergeant Snodgrass of 
the second precinct with the reserves ran into another crowd and to 
the timely assistance of Sergeants Kelly, Esterbrook, and Cornwell, of 
the same precinct. They might have all been killed, so brutal was the 
fighting on both sides, with a handicap of at east ten to one of the 
police, but again the cops won the day. Captain Thorne was knocked 
down by a heavy blow from one of the crowd who was armed with a 
big club, and Officer Cowen brought his night stick down on the head 
of the rioter, knocking him out, thus saving the life of the captain. 
The rioters fell stunned and bleeding on all sides, and also were many 
policemen badly hurt. Officer Welling of the first precinct fell with 
a bullet in the shoulder. 

The battle was a desperate one, the police forcing the rioters from 
Printing House Square up to Frankfort Street, Then the mob took to 
flight in all directions. Those of the mob that ran across City Hall 
Park were caught by another squad of policemen on their way to assist 
in fight, and they beat this part of the crowd up in great style, leaving 
them lying for dead. By this time Inspector Carpenter and his force 
of two hundred showed up. They were marching down to relieve 
Captains Bryan and Thorne. 

The Inspector was very busy that day breaking up riots here and 
there on his march to freedom, and believe me the men of his command 
were in fine shape, and when they wheeled into City Hall Park, and saw 
a crowd that was driven off Park Row, they sailed into them and it was 
a mercy that any one of this crowd outlived the terrible beating received 
from the fighting brigade of policemen. After this fearful battle peace 
and quietness reigned for a while, and Inspector Carpenter made City 
Hall Park his headquarters, ever ready for a call to any part of the 

While the police were driving the crowds along Park Row that day, 


Sergeant Dovoursney, with Officers Mc Waters and McCord, who were 
in plain clothes, attempted to stop a gang of the rioters that had come 
up through Nassau Street for the purpose of again trying to burn 
the "Tribune Building." They received an awful beating, but held 
ofif the mob until assistance arrived and drove the rioters off once 
more. Officer McCord, unfortunately, was struck down by a brother 
officer, not recognizing him to be a policeman wearing citizen's clothes 
in a place of riot and destruction, as was Printing House Square at 
that time. 

The writer of this work was a victim of one of these unfortunate 
and cruel mistakes, but under dififerent circumstances, as we were on 
special duty that Sunday afternoon in June, 1897, by orders of Police 
Commissioner Roosevelt. Two of us were sent out on excise duty, and 
ran into a saloon where a policeman in citizen's clothes from another 
precinct was making an excise arrest. I ran to his assistance, he 
took me to be a friend of the liquor dealer whom he, the officer, had 
under arrest and resisting. He walloped me over the head with his 
stick, causing a wound that the ambulance surgeon took seven stitches 
to close, and I was on the sick list three weeks, receiving but half-pay 
for same, thereby robbing my wife and family of seven children. But 
I could tell you more if space permitted about this, to my mind, 
criminal assault, but I will tell my story later. 

Officer Gardiner was wounded by a brick thrown by a rioter. 
PoHce Surgeon Kennedy did heroic work showing himself to be both 
brave, skillful, and efficient, attending to the sick and dying, and all 
this tiiiiC under fire. 

Just as soon as things quieted down in New York, Inspector Folk 
withdrew his one hundred members of the fighting battalion and 
returned to Brooklyn. This act of Inspector Folk weakened the force 
under Inspector Carpenter considerably. But it turned out that Inspec- 
tor Folk used rattling good judgment, it being told to him that the peo- 
ple of Brooklyn were about to make trouble. At the sight of Inspector 
Folk and his fighting forces, whose fighting New York record had 
traveled before them, these Brooklynites quit cold. 

But while Inspector Folk killed the coming trouble in Brooklyn, it 
was not so in New York. The rioters on hearing that the Brooklyn 
men had left Inspector Carpenter's command, thereby weakening the 
same, they again got into harness and swore to get a hunk on the 
police, and with what result? They gathered a large crowd of their 
former pals and raided and burned up everything before them in the 
fourth and sixth wards, hanging the negroes to lamp-posts, and break- 
ing into Brooks Brothers store at the corner of Cherry and Catherine 
Streets. Captain John Jourdan, who had been busy fighting rioters 


all that day, was ordered to take charge and quell this present riot, and 
with Sergeants Welsh and McGiven, and Roundsman Ryan, they 
tackled a mob at 42 Baxter Street, and drove them before them. 
Roundsman Ryan was knocked down but arose and continued to fight 
on, harder and more vigorously. 

Again at six o'clock p.m. the rioters, with many more joining them, 
returned and made their way to a tenement house at Baxter and Leonard 
Streets in which lived twenty colored families, but again the police 
drove them off, after a stormy session of fighting. Being ordered to 
police headquarters they ran into another mob on its way, and the 
police again beat them to it, but with great sacrifices. Sergeants Walsh, 
Quinn and Kennedy were badly wounded. Again the mob returned 
and tried to set fire to 104-105 Park Street, in which many colored 
people were living. Sergeant Hopkins was badly wounded in this 
melee, but continued to do duty. Captain John Jourdan returned to 
the city hall in time to join the command of Inspector Carpenter, and 
they marched down through the fourth ward, fighting every one that 
came in their way, quelling four riotous and murderous crowds that 
were burning up the negro dwellings. Fifty men were left to guard 
the "Tribune Building" ; the rest of them joined the command of 
Inspector Carpenter on his tour of inspection. 

Captain Bryan, whose station house had been attacked by a large 
force of rioters, with Sergeant Rode and eight men only to protect it, 
led the expedition. And when they arrived at the station house they 
found it had been safely protected by the small band of heroes still 
fighting the big crowd, chasing them down through Oak Street, just 
reaching this spot in time to drive off another gang just about to set 
fire to a house full of colored people. Some work for ten men ! 

The expeditonary forces of Inspector Carpenter consisted of the 
following-named captains and other officials : Captain Green with 
Sergeants Finney and Robinson, of the third precinct ; Sergeant Webb 
of the same precinct joining them later. Captain Sebring of the 
ninth precinct, Captain Davies of the tenth, and each of the captains 
was in command of the men of his precinct, or as many as could be 
spared. They were joined by Captain Steers of the thirteenth precinct ; 
Captain Brower of the seventeenth ; Captain Slott and Sergeants Aldis, 
Potter and Murphy of the tv/enty-second ; Captain Dixon and Ser- 
geant Groat of the twenty-eighth; Captain Speight of the twenty-ninth; 
Captain B. G. Lord and the men of the sanitary squad ; Captain John J. 
Mount of the eleventh precinct took the most active part in this ex- 
pedition, being ordered to take charge of and protect the colored 
families of Roosevelt Street. Some lone contract ! 

There were many colored families living on New Bowery and 


Roosevelt Street at this time and it was one continuous round of 
misery, running to put out the fires started by the rioters, who at 
that time seemed to have lost all control of themselves. There was 
much serious fighting going on all day, and Officer McMahon was 
knocked cold by a brick thrown from a roof top in Roosevelt Street, 
and he was rushed to the hospital. 

An incident of this tour will serve to show the ferocity of the 
crowd. Three colored men took refuge on the roof of a house. The 
rioters set the house on fire and the unfortunate colored men were 
obliged to suspend themselves from the roof of the house, hanging by 
their hands to the coping stone or gable walls. The police searched 
in vain for ladders, and finally the colored men, in an exhausted condi- 
tion, were forced to let go their hold and drop to the sidewalk, sus- 
taining serious injuries. 

Inspector Carpenter and his command was constantly fighting over 
in the old sixth ward, the Dead Rabbits making a whole lot of trouble 
for them, but having driven them ofif they continued to march from 
ward to ward, cleaning up all crowds and would-be rioters, a very busy 
day's work. At eleven p. m. Inspector Carpenter received a telegram 
stating that the rioters in great force were marching down Broadway to 
again attack the "Tribune Building." The Inspector at once marched 
his men downtown and massed them on the east side close to the park 
gates, facing three companies to the west, from whence the rioters 
were expected to come, and the balance of his men he posted at differ- 
ent points on the east side. He gave the order to rest up, but to be 
prepared to fight quickly and to show no mercy. The police were 
concealed in the darkness, and the rioters were allowed to approach 
within a hundred yards before Carpenter gave the men the order of, 
"Up Guards, and at them" ; and the police went at the crowd that was 
five or more to one. This sudden attack and shock were irresistible, 
and in a few minutes the Park for the second time was strewn with 
the dead and wounded while those of the rioters that were able flew 
back up Broadway for their lives. At midnight, Inspector Carpenter 
and his men, both tired and weary, were relieved by Inspector James 
Leonard and three hundred and fifty men. Captain Thorne of the 
twenty-sixth precinct was second in command. 

The Inspector with headquarters at the city hall station, held the 
fort until the following Friday, when the riots were at an end. The 
rioters never recovered from the beating they received from Inspector 
Carpenter and his men on the memorable night in City Hall Park, and 
the leaders had to give up the ghost. 

All credit is due to both Inspectors Carpenter and Leonard; their 
energy and sound judgment, in a measure, contributed to the suppres- 


sion of all disorder in the downtown districts of the city. Inspector 
Leonard had before taken charge of this section of the city, and 
headed a troop that had fought and defeated a large mob on Monday 
night at Broadway and Bond Street, a stone's throw from the spot at 
Amity Street, where Inspector Carpenter won the first glorious victory 
of the riots. 

It would take up too much space in this little book to tell you of 
the great work done by all concerned in these memorable draft riots, the 
hardships and pain that our men of the police force were compelled 
to endure, and all of the glory that each man of the whole outfit had 
won. Yes, they were all heroes from the Police Commissioner, Thomas 
C. Acton, down to the doorman of the different precincts. All played 
their part and are at rest today, I hope, in that heavenly home that we 
all crave to share some day sooner or later (God willin'), and may the 
heavens be their bed. 

But before closing these chapters relating to the Draft Riots, we 
cannot but give high praise to Police Inspector Folk and his men. 
They at once came over from Brooklyn to assist their brothers of 
New York, and while they were fighting the battles of our New York 
citizens, trouble was brewing over in Brooklyn, and Inspector Folk lost 
no time in returning to the famous city of churches, where he read the 
riot act to the would-be rioters, and to those of them that did not heed 
his orders, he ordered his men to charge, leaving many of the mob in 
bad shape. 

One of the most serious of the many causes of alarm that the 
Inspector had to handle was the burning up of the grain elevators of 
Erie Basin, it is supposed by a gang of laborers, who had mingled 
with the great crowd and could not be identified. Inspector Folk was 
a faithful and gallant officer, and to his constant vigilance in Brook- 
lyn, that city owed its immunity from the horrors that had convulsed 
little old New York. 

Inspectors Carpenter and Leonard, in turn, had their work laid out 
for them to clean up the rioters in the many different parts of the city. 
Just a few lines about the first most serious great fire of the riots. 
The colored orphan asylum was attacked by the rioters Monday, July 
13, 1863, by a mob of three thousand wild vagabonds and scoundrels. 
And before four o'clock in the afternoon the whole building was in 
flames. The asylum at that terrible moment held within its walls two 
hundred poor colored orphans, who knew nothing of the trouble nor 
were they responsible for this or any other trouble. The office stafif 
and attendants were also to be considered, but were they? Why, no. 
Those devils out of hell were running mad for blood, yes the warm 
red blood of the innocent. 


The main building was of four stories, and the wings were of more. 
Superintendent WiUiam E. Davies hurriedly fastened the doors, and 
while the mob was breaking them in, the children were collected and 
taken from the building by a rear door, and all were rescued safely. 
These poor unfortunate motherless children were then removed to 
the twentieth precinct station house, and there left under the wing of 
that one great big-hearted fatherly man, Captain George Washington 
Walling, who took the best care of them before they were removed 
over to Blackwell's Island, so that they would be far removed from 
the trouble that was coming.. 

Every one connected with the institution worked hard in aiding 
the police and firemen to save the building, but sad to relate the build- 
ing, and it was one of the best of its day, was a total wreck. The 
villainous mob prevented the firemen from keeping the flames from 
spreading, the mob going so far as to assault that grand old fireman 
Chief Decker, knocking him down twice. The savages went so far as 
to cry out to the old Chief, "If you don't get the h — out of here we 
will throw you and your men into the flames." But those threats did 
not keep the old Chief and his men from working hard to save at least 
some part of the beautiful structure, but it was not to be. 

Tuesday, July 14, 1863, the second day of the "Draft Riots," was 
no less a busy day in other parts of the city. At two a.m. a telegram 
was received at police headquarters stating that a mob was brutally 
assaulting a negro and was about to hang him to a lamp-post over on 
Clarkson Street and the North River. Drill Officer Copeland and one 
hundred of his picked men at once rushed to the scene of action, and 
fought off the mob that had built and lit a fire under the unfortunate 
negro, and was holding a war dance around him. The police cut down 
the burned carcass of the man, rolled it up in a cloth, and sent it to the 
morgue, and then sailed into the savage rioters. 

It was an awful night of thunderstorms, and raining to beat the 
band, but Copeland and his men fought all the harder, until they 
cleared the streets of this wild howling mob. And on their way back 
to headquarters, the men of the twenty-third precinct received word 
that their station house on east Eighty- Seventh Street, as well as 
many of the private houses in the vicinity, were burned by the rioters, 
and in spite of all that the men of the house tried to do in the matter 
of saving the telegraph instruments, and other private and public 
property of the station house, all was destroyed. 

Captain John F. Dickson and his command of the twenty-eight pre- 
cinct was ordered to Houston and Washington Streets, at which place 
several houses were set on fire by the mob, staying there until five a. m. 
They were then ordered to Leroy Street to rescue a colored man named 

Leader of Tammany Hall. 

Leader of Tammany Hall, 1902 to 1924. 


Former Borough President, Manhattan, 

Courtesy of Police Magazine 


The World's Famous Irish Yachtsman, and Honorary Deputy Chief 



Williams who was being assaulted by others of the mob, and after 
driving the mob off they sent Williams to headquarters in a wagon, 
but he died on the way, his injuries being of a frightful character, 
to say the least. 

Inspector Carpenter reported for duty at six a.m. and this meant 
another battle, and again he came out victorious. This fight took 
place over on Second Avenue. The Inspector took his men through 
Twenty-First Street, and they found that all the streets were blocked 
with rioters, who were trying to tear down the old station house on 
Twenty-Second Street. Again the Inspector gave the order to charge 
the buildings and search them from cellar to roof, and the two hundred 
and fifty men of his command, after driving every one of the rioters 
from the buildings, again rushed them for all that they were worth, 
until they had them all on the run. 

This was one of the worst battles of the whole week, police and 
rioters meeting in the cellars and on the roofs, fighting every step; the 
police of course doing all they could to obey the commands of Inspector 
Carpenter as follows, "Take no prisoners, men, but beat them up so 
that they will no longer be capable of any further mischief." 

The scene that ensued cannot be adequately described. Captain 
Speight and his men led the charge. They were in the rear of the 
battalion as it wheeled into Second Avenue, but the crowds were closing 
in on them, when the order was given to aboutface, and then the 
battle was in earnest, the Captain receiving a knockdown blow from a 
brick thrown by a big fellow, but he got his. It is indeed a pleasure to 
me to be writing of the gallant work of the police force that day, but 
suffice it to say that some of the boys paid dearly for their gallantry. 

While the battle was still in progress. Colonel H. J. O'Brien of the 
Eleventh New York Volunteers arrived on the scene with about fifty 
men and two howitzers. For a time the mob was overawed, but after 
the police had marched off, an attack was begun on the soldiers who 
fired a volley in reply. Several people including a woman were 
wounded, and the crowd became panicstricken and scattered. Colonel 
O'Brien and his men marched away. But an hour or two later the 
ill-starred Colonel returned to the spot alone. They soon recognized 
the Colonel and rushed at him pell-mell and the rioters thirsting for 
vengeance, brutally assaulted the Colonel and left him in such a condi- 
tion that he died on the street. Atrocities too terrible to mention were 
committed upon the body of the Colonel, and they made a plaything of 
it for several hours, and this was the end of a brave soldier and 
commander. Colonel H. J. O'Brien. 

After driving the rioters off Second Avenue, Inspector Carpenter 
then marched his men all along the east side over and down Fifth 


Avenue, arriving at police headquarters at one a.m. In the meanwhile, 
stirring scenes had been in progress elsewhere. 

When all was quieted, Captain Helme dispatched two sergeants and 
a squad of men, to recover whatever firearms they could and bring 
them to the police headquarters building. They seized a cart loaded 
down with firearms, and were on their way to headquarters when they 
were overtaken by the mob that had murdered Colonel O'Brien, and 
with renewed confidence they crowded around the police and the cart 
loaded with firearms. Well this fight commenced and not a man for 
one moment flinching, but it is hard to say what the result would have 
been had it not been for the arrival of Inspector Dilks and two 
hundred and fifty men who were rushed from police headquarters on 
the double quick. Inspector Dilks and Captain Helme and their com- 
mands then toured over the city up one avenue and down another, fight- 
here and there, assisted by the militia. Captain George W. Walling, 
one of the many heroes of the riots, was in charge of the twentieth 
precinct, and all that week he had his own troubles, both the Captain 
and his command going both day and night. Captain Walling and his 
men were constantly marching up and down the east side, up through 
the Bowery, Third Avenue, and running into all of the principal battles 
of the riot week, and at one time the Captain killed his man, after which 
he was much feared by the rioters. 

During the week of riots, all of the station houses were left in- 
adequately guarded, and great courage and judgment were shown in 
their preservation. Sergeants Louden and McConnell successively took 
charge of the seventh precinct station house, 247 Madison Street. 
Sergeant W. B. Wilson guarded the twenty-seventh precinct station 
house, 117 Cedar Street, against great odds. But as a matter of fact 
the rioters were not aware of the fact that there were but few men 
left to guard each station house, or if they had been there would be 
a different story told than the writer is writing today. 

The thirtieth precinct men were so busily engaged in their own big 
bailiwick that they had no time to go help the others, who certainly 
needed all the assistance they could get. Captain J. Hartt, aided by 
Sergeant Blake and other officers of his command, worked very hard 
to keep the district from being burnt up as Manhattanville was very 
spacious and needed constant watching. Captain N. R. Mills of the 
Broadway squad was on his vacation in Oneida County when the riots 
began, but returned to the city as soon as he heard the sad news, 
reporting for duty at police headquarters on Thursday evening. On 
Sunday, the eighteenth, a large body of police under the command of 
Captain Dickson of the twenty-eighth, started for a tour of the small 
towns along the Hudson, accompanied by a body of troops. They 


remained away three days, and completely subdued all tendencies 
to revolt that might have existed among the rural population. The day 
after their return a visit to Staten Island — where there had been some 
rioting — was made, and on the next day Flushing, L. L, was visited. 

It would be unfair to close this story of this troublesome week 
without a word of praise for the other men who also did some very 
meritorious work connected with the riots. For instance the detective 
force worked very hard and they were in danger at all times, rendering 
valuable service in mixing up with and discovering the plans of the 
rioters. I will mention a few of those good men that deserve the 
highest of praise. Besides Chief Young, Officers Bennett, McCord, 
Farley, Roach, Redford, Smith, Slowey, Dusenbury, Macdougal, Elder, 
Eustace, Wilson, Kelso, Lieman and O'Keefe many others did notable 
work. Officer Slowey had been recognized by the rioters and received 
an awful beating, laying him up for many weeks. 

The men of the telegraph bureau also did great work, running here 
and running there to fix the wires that had been cut by the rioters, 
constantly endangering their lives, while they were very often in 
disguise impersonating some of the rioters to avoid loss of life or 
limb. Among these gallant fellows were Superintendent Crowley and 
staff as follows : Messrs Eldred, Polhamus, Charles L. Chapin, John 
A. K. Duvall, and James A. Lucas. Captain Lord and Officers Johns, 
Van Orden, and McTaggert of the sanitary police, were singled out 
for commendation; also Officer Wells of the Broadway squad for the 
kindness and humanity shown by them to the unfortunate negroes, 
protecting them and saving them from death around the Astor House 
on Monday of that week. 

Honorable mention was also given to Clerks Daniel B. Hasbrouck, 
George Hopcroft, Horace A. Bliss, and Alexander Stewart, messenger 
of police headquarters. George Hopcroft was still on duty when the 
writer joined the force, and a grand old gentleman George was. 

There were eighteen men killed by the rioters, eleven of whom were 
colored. Officer Dipple was killed by accident, having been shot at 
the time that the militia opened fire on the rioters ; but the rioters killed 
and wounded numbered twelve hundred. 

Ex-Governor Seymour, who occupied the gubernatorial chair at the 
time of the riots, was nominated for the presidency in Tammany Hall, 
July, 1868, and who was in this city in his official capacity assisting in 
restoring order, bears this willing and appreciative testimony to the 
valuable services rendered by the members of the New York police 
force during the terrible days of riot and murder: 

"The draft riots of 1863 were put down mainly by the energy, 
boldness, and skill of the men of New York's police department. In 


saying this I am certainly not influenced by prejudice, for the men of 
the police force were politically, and in some degree personally, un- 
friendly to myself. In fact in their reports they have not seen fit to 
mention of any cooperation on my part with their efforts. But they 
did their duty bravely and efficiently. They proved that the city of 
Now York could, by its police alone, in the absence of its military 
organizations, cope with the most formidable disorders. I do not 
know of any history where so many desperate men were shot down and 
mainly by the police of the city. 

"More than a thousand of the rioters were killed or wounded to 
death, and yet so little justice has been done the members of the police 
force of this city, that many think it was protected by the forces of 
the United States. In fact the navy yard, the vast amounts of military 
stores of the general government, and its money in the sub-treasury, 
were mainly protected by the civil officers. They were well protected 
while the military organizations were absent in Pennsylvania, in answer 
to an appeal from the government of the United States, our state 
military troops were sent to help it against the invasion of the late 
General Lee and his troops." 

Even good old General Grant, in one of his papers, spoke of the 
riots in New York as an occasion when the general government had 
helped state or local authorities to maintain peace and order. I wrote 
the General, correcting this error, and I am pleased to say that he, 
General Grant, received my communication in a spirit of courtesy and 
fairness that ever marks the character of an honorable man. It is now 
time that justice should be done to the city of New York, and the men 
of its police force in this matter, and in hopes that such justice may be 
done I repeat these words. 

General Harvey Brown, in relinquishing his command said that 
having, during the riots, been in immediate cooperation with the police 
department of this city, he desired the privilege of expressing his un- 
bounded admiration of it. "Never in our civil or military life have 
we seen such untiring devotion and such efficient service." 

To the president of the police board, Thomas C. Acton, and Police 
Commissioner Bergen, he offered his thanks for their courtesy to him, 
and their kindness to his command. "The only merit I can claim," 
concludes General Brown, "in the performance of the duty which has 
given me the high distinction of your approbation, is that of an honest 
singleness of purpose in recording the very able and energetic efforts 
of the President of the Metropolitan police, Mr. Acton, to whom, in my 
opinion, more than to any other one man, is due the credit of the early 
suppression of the riots." 

Governor Seymour, in his annual message in referring to the riots, 


says, among other things, that a dispatch was sent to him from Mayor 
Opdyke, informing him of the outbreak that had just taken place on 
the thirteenth day of July, the first day of the riots. The governor 
reached the city the following morning, and found it in a wild state 
of agitation, excitement, and violence on all sides. The militia were 
ordered to return immediately from Pennsylvania, and a proclamation 
was issued. "To the people of the City of New York. Riotous pro- 
ceedings," the governor's proclamation read, "must and shall be put 
down. The laws of the State must be enforced, its peace and order 
maintained, and the lives and property of its citizens protected at any 
and all hazard. It behooves all citizens to stand by the constituted 
authorities, sustaining law and order in the city, and ready to answer 
any such demands as circumstances may render necessary for me to 
make upon their services, and they may rely upon a rigid enforcement 
of the laws of this State against all who violates them." 

The city was declared to be in a state of insurrection. It was 
divided into districts that were placed under the control of persons of 
and with influence or military experience, who were directed to organize 
the citizens. The governor likewise obtained from the collector of the 
port the service of an armed vessel to patrol the rivers and bays in 
the vicinity of New York, and he authorized the police commissioners 
to charter another steamer that could be used to transfer policemen 
and soldiers to any point on the shores of the islands where dis- 
turbance threatened. 

"In the sad and humiliating history of the event," to quote from 
Governor Seymour's annual message, "it is gratifying that the citizens 
of New York, without important aid from the State or Nation, were 
able themselves to put down this dangerous insurrection. 

"I do not underrate the value of the services rendered by the 
military or naval officers of the general government who were stationed 
in the city or those of General Sandford, for the public is under great 
obligations to them for their courage and prudent counsels. But they 
had at their command only a handful of troops, who alone were entirely 
unequal to the duty of defending the vast amount of public property 
that was endangered. The rioters were subdued by the exertion of the 
city officials, civic and military, the people, the police, and the firemen, 
and a small body of twelve hundred men, composed equally of the 
State and National forces." 

In this report to Governor Seymour, General Wood said : "The city 
police force from the beginning, under the able command of the police 
officials and other officers of its organization, displayed throughout the 
whole riot not only a willingness, but great efficiency, in their noble 
exertions to quell the riot. For this and their harmonious cooperation 


with the troops engaged in the same cause, they deserve the warmest 
thanks for every lover of law and order, and my high commendations 
for their whole conduct on this trying and painful occasion." 

The loss to the city of property was not much short of three million 
dollars. Over fifty buildings were burned including the colored or- 
phan asylum, two police stations, and three provost marshal's offices. 
A great number of dwellings were sacked. Fifteen hundred rioters 
were either killed or died of their wounds. The whole history of the 
week was disastrous in a degree that, it is to be hoped, our dear old 
city will never see again. 

During the week following the riots the police commissioners issued 
an address to the members of the police force, as follows : 

"We are proud of the good work done by our Inspectors, Captains, 
and Sergeants who led their men in every charge made to break up the 
riots, like the good and brave men that you are, and we are proud to 
say that not a man faltered or failed. Each of you was equal to the 
hour of emergency. Not one of you failed to overcome the danger, 
however near, or to defeat the enemy, however numerous. Especial 
commendations is due to Drill Sergeant Copeland for his most valuable 
aid in commanding the large bodies of men." 

He paid great attention to the movements of each police detach- 

"The Patrolmen, who were on duty, fought through the numerous 
and fierce conflicts with the steady courage of veteran soldiers, and 
have won, as they deserve, the highest commendations from the public 
and from this the Board of Police Commissioners. In their ranks 
there was neither faltering nor struggling. Devotion to duty and 
courage in the performance of it were universal. The public and the 
department owe a debt of gratitude to the citizens who voluntarily 
became Special Policemen, some three thousand of whom, for several 
days and nights, did regular patrolmen's duty with great effect. In 
the name of the public, and the department of which they were volun- 
teers, we thank them. Mr. Crowley, the superintendent of the police 
telegraph, and the men attached to his department, showed untiring 
and sleepless vigilance in transmitting information by telegraph un- 
ceasingly through more than ten days and nights, have more than 
sustained the high reputation that they have at all times possessed. 

"Through all of those bloody contests, through all the wearing 
fatigue and wasting labor, you have demeaned yourselves like worthy 
members of the Metropolitan police. The public judgment will both 
commend and reward you. A kind Providence has permitted you to 
escape with less casualties than could have been expected. It is hoped 
that the severe but just chastisements which have been inflicted on 


those guilty of riot, arson, pillage, and murder will deter further 
attempts of that character. 

"Sergeant Young of the detective force aided by Mr. Newcomb, 
and other special patrolmen, rendered most effective service in arrang- 
ing the commissary supplies for the large number of police, militia, and 
special policemen, and destitute colored refugees, whose subsistence 
was thrown unexpectedly on the police department. The duty was 
arduous and responsible, and was performed with vigor and fidelity. 
All the clerks of the department, each in his sphere, performed a manly 
share of the heavy duties growing out of those extraordinary circum- 

Twenty of the rioters were arrrested, indicted, and convicted in 
general sessions. The aggregate term of their imprisonment was about 
one hundred years. According to the records at poHce headquarters 
three policemen lost their lives. A great city was for a time in the 
grasp of robbers and cut-throats, and the very existence of the Re- 
public imperiled. But the battle had been valiantly waged and won. 
Had the rioters succeeded in overpowering the police and militia, and 
gained possession of the city for but one hour, there is no calculating 
what irreparable calamities might have, as a consequence, befallen the 
city and nation. It is safe to assume that similar riotous proceedings 
would have taken place in other large cities of the North, and thus 
the drafting would have been at once brought to an end, with the enemy 
almost within sight of the seat of government. But happily all this 
was averted. Had it not been so, who can say how the Civil War would 
have terminated? 

The following proclamation was issued by Mayor Opdyke: 

"The riotous assemblages have been dispersed. Business is running 
on in its usual channels. The various lines of omnibuses, railroad, 
and telegraph have resumed their ordinary operations. Few symptoms 
of disorder remain except in a small district in the eastern part of the 
city, comprising a part of the eighteenth and twenty-first wards. The 
police are everywhere alert. A sufficient militia is now here to suppress 
any and all illegal movements however formidable. Let me exhort you, 
therefore, to pursue your ordinary business. Avoid all crowds especial- 
ly. Remain quietly at your homes, except in business hours or when 
assisting the authorities in some organized force. 

"When the militia appear on the street, do not stop to inspect 
them but keep right on walking, and rest assured that they are doing 
their duty, as ordered by their superiors. Your homes and your places 
of business you have a perfect right to defend, and it is your duty 
to defend them at all hazards. Yield to no intimidation and to no 
demand for money as the price of your safety. If any person warns 


you to desist from your regular business, don't pay any attention to 
him or her, give no heed to the warning, but place them under arrest 
and take them to the station house and charge them with conspiracy. 
Be assured the police have the ability and the will to protect you from 
those who have conspired against you, or the laws that your representa- 
tives have enacted. 

"George Opdyke, Mayor." 

Thus ends the record of the draft riots. They leave a great 
lesson to the people as to the utter futility of mob violence. They 
carry a lesson to the police and the civic authorities as to the value 
of a well-organized and well-disciplined band of public guardians. 

And after peace was once more a fact, the people commenced to 
shower honors and praise on the men of the force who had so faith- 
fully fought and saved their homes and factories from instant de- 
struction. And this good spirit of friendliness between the citizens and 
their protectors carried on, until the unfortunate Lexow Committee 
came to rule or ruin the city government by a so-called exposure, and 
again the public forgot the past, more's the pity ! for the knockers who 
had taken a back seat came out of their holes in 1895, just as they did 
again in 1923. But in spite of all this continued knocking and abuse, 
I found that the good thinking people of this, and other cities, that I 
visited respected and praised the police department of the city of New 
York, and I sure was glad to hear all the fine things said of New 
York and her police force. 

And it made no difference to what city I went, it was just the 
same. "Oh, Chief, we have an old New York policeman with us, he 
is paying us a friendly visit. Invite him to the house, so that he can 
tell us the story of our good brothers of New York." Yes, dear 
readers, that's just the kind of a reception, it made no difference whether 
it was in London, Paris, Dublin, Cork, New Orleans, Los Angeles, 
San Diego, San Francisco, Denver, Chicago, Buffalo, and other cities 
too numerous to mention, and I traveled through all those mentioned, 
and in the order named, and I found the same welcome in all, simply 
because I was a New York copper, and could tell the stories so much 
looked for from an old New York policeman of the good old days 
of A.D. before Dr. Parkhurst, and the so-called reformers of today. 
Oh, yes, you know them, I know them, the world knows them, and 
Heavenly Father! they don't know themselves. I would like to give 
these gentlemen a quiet tip: pack up and go join frosty-face Kaiser 
Bill, and shut themselves up in that monkey house in Holland, for all 
time and good riddance to bad rubbish. 

I remember back in 1916, we then had reformers, from the mayor 


down, and they were all running to Albany to pass an act to take away 
from us, the police and fire forces of this great city, the right of appeal ; 
that is they wanted the power to put a man out on the streets and that 
without a hearing. But they got badly fooled, and we the police and 
firemen of this the Empire City of the world are happy, living in har- 
mony with our people, while those reformers have died and gone to 
the devil knows where? 


Superintendent George Washington Walling "the Man." His 
Long and Honorable Connection with the Police Depart- 
ment OF This Great City Dating from 1847 to 1885, Earning 
His Promotion from Patrolman to Superintendent by 
Sheer Acts of Courage and Bravery, for a Better Police- 
man Never Drew the Breath of Life, Doing Great Work 
in the Days of the Terrible Draft Riots, Killing His Man, 
AND Maiming Many Others, for this Good and Peace- 
loving Man Was Forced to Save His Own Life as Well as 
that of the People. 

We now arrive at one of the most interesting points of this writing 
recording the life, trials, and tribulations of Superintendent George 
Washington Walling, one of the greatest policemen of his or any other 
time, and I write this little story as a mark of respect to his son, Police 
Captain Edward S. Walling, of the present-day force, my old skipper, 
and a good one at that. Also to the Walling family of Keyport, New 
Jersey, whom I have been fortunate enough to meet, once in Walling 
Hall on the pretty Jersey coast. 

George Washington Walling first saw the light of day in that pretty 
little village of Keyport, Monmouth County, New Jersey, on the banks 



of the Raritan Bay, about twenty-four miles from New York. Young 
Wash. WalHng, like thousands of other good boys, was not born with 
a gold or silver spoon in his mouth, hence he had a hard road to 
travel, but he was honest, willing, and strong, and he succeeded in life 
as will all young men of like character ; the present Police Commissioner 
Richard E. Enright for example ; their early start was about equal. 
Young George went to school in his native town, but for a short time 
only, when he was forced to leave school and face the world, as did 
many of the world's greatest men of today and yesterday. 

I know of many who were in this same boat, myself included. Here 
are a few of the men whom I know personally that had to face the 
world on a shoestring, but they all succeeded, and they delight to relate 
the story of how they did it, so as to encourage others who may follow. 
Sir Thomas J. Lipton, the world's greatest yachtsmen, arrived at Castle 
Garden with about six bits in his pocket, and here he is today a multi- 
millionaire, and is spending his money to educate the world, and aiding 
and assisting his fellow man, and humanity in general. 

Another wonderful example is the present governor of New York 
State, the Honorable Alfred E. Smith, and the most talked of man for 
the presidency of these United States today. Al Smith, as I know him, 
was born on the river front of little old New York, of a poor but honest 
father and mother, and the world knows that young Al Smith suc- 
ceeded, and he did not have to leave New York to do so, as did many 
of us who had to leave our home towns. 

Young Wash. Walling, first went to work for a farmer, working 
very hard both late and early, and after getting a few dollars together 
went to sea for a living, and then joined a small freighter plying be- 
tween Keyport and New York. And this same young man was shortly 
after seen knocking at the door of the then police central office, being 
appointed a policeman December 22, i847j and 'as^igrked ■;o ;tlie:eld 
third precinct of Manhattan. This, hjs'ffrst? real' gtayil.innifd,''gd.\* 
young Walling a chance to show the kind of metal hf^ w^'s made of, 
and the following story proves this fully. 

Officer WalHng was assigned to patrol Brc-adway.. QiiQ iin4 
a crowd of noisy young men came along, and the youn^ policeman 
stepped up to them and said, "You men must stop this loud talking, 
you are disturbing the peace. The good people are sleeping and must 
not be awakened by you." One of the six men stopped was a William 
Harrington, a noted scrapper of that time, a tough as it were, and in 
my experience little old New York has never been without its tough 
men, but the tough men of the past were a much more decent crowd 
of men, than the so-called tough of today. The tough men of the past 
had some decency in them, they would give a fellow a square deal ; but 


the mongrels of today will take all kinds of dirty chances to get their 
man, resorting to the gun or knife, but the men of the past would use 
God's weapons — the fist. 

"Oh, go on," said Harrington, "there are six of us here, so how are 
you going to stop us of our fun?" "(Well, now, see here," said Officer 
Walling, "I am here to do my duty, and I shall try to arrest some of 
you at least, if you insist in keeping up this disturbance, so go on your 
way quietly." 

Harrington was so much surprised at the coolness and determination 
of young Walling, that he walked away from the gang and said, "By 
God, I will help you." The young fellows saw that Walling meant 
business and went on their way quietly. That was just one instance 
of the grit of this poor Keyport boy, but there are more to follow, and 
this same determination was responsible for his future promotions. 

In September, 1853, Wash. Walling was promoted to captain and 
assigned to the eighteenth ward. Wash. Walling held the title of cap- 
tain when the Metropolitan police force was established, and you have 
learned from previous chapters the story of Mayor Fernando Wood in 
his fight against the state and Captain Walling's connection with same. 
Later on during the Quarantine Riots, Captain Walling was ordered to 
report there with a force of men numbering one hundred, and he again 
discharged his duty in such an admirable manner that he again was 
accorded official praise. On Captain Walling's return to the city he 
was assigned to take charge of the fourth precinct, and by a strange 
coincidence it was in this same precinct, No. 9 Oak Street, that I also 
served under Captain Ed. WalHng, the son of our hero. Captain Ed. 
Walling was relieved by Captain Ed. Toole, October 23, 1906, the day 
of my retirement from the force. I shall never forget the kindly words 
of both Captain Walling and my esteemed friend. Captain Ed. Toole, 
that day when biddmg therri gcod-bye, for as the old saying goes, "Kind 
words can never dfe." Captain Toole died in 1924. 

Captain George W. Walling walked into the station house, said, 
"Good-evening, gentlemen." entered his name on the blotter and buckled 
on his harness, -and •said, "Well, here I am, and I have come here to 
do police auty,' and by Heavens, it will be done." And sure enough, 
Captain Walling went through the precinct and cleaned it up. Captain 
Walling having cleaned up the old Fourth was again transferred to the 
old Sixth precinct, and he was requested to clean that precinct up also. 
It goes without saying it was cleaned up all right. Captain Walling 
was such a fatherly man that every man Jack of his commands would 
go through hell's fire to serve him. Yes and that's the case when one 
has a good skipper, we do or die. 

Captain Walling made such a record for himself cleaning up all the 


precincts asked of him, that the Police Commissioners were considering 
for him further promotion, and with that one thought in mind the Cap- 
tain was transferred to poHce headquarters, and given charge of the 
detective bureau. Captain WaUing was in charge of detectives, and 
having done such good in that as well as in all positions, the Commis- 
sioners again looked around to further promote him, hence he was pro- 
moted to the position of inspector, November 21, 1866. Eight years 
after this Inspector Walling was promoted to the highest position in 
the gift of the Commissioners, thaFof superintendent of police. This 
was the honor conferred upon the poor young fellow who had started 
out to make good, and the police records show that he filled the bill 
from A to Z. 

I will write of a few of his many deeds while he was working for 
the good clean record that in after years brought about his many pro- 
motions in the ranks of the 'Finest," yes, and it is admitted by all to 
be the greatest police force the world over. At one time Wash. Walling 
was transferred as a patrolman to do duty in the old Tomb's Police 
Court, and was doubled up with another good detective, William Shad- 
bolt. There were many burglaries going on at the time, and the case of 
which I am writing stood out more than any other, it being looked upon 
as a celebrated case, and the following are the particulars of same. 

A job was turned off at Maiden Lane and John Street, below what 
is today known as the "dead line" that was mapped out years after by 
Inspector Byrnes in about the year 1883. Walling and Shadbolt were 
put on this job that was pulled off on a Saturday night, and the only 
clue left them was a button of a coat that the crooks left behind them 
in their hurry to make a getaway. John Reed, another clever detective, 
was given the case as a member of the detective bureau, and it was he 
who found the button, in question, and knew the button to be of a 
peculiar make that could be found only on a certain make of swell 
clothes, but not very fashionable at the time. Detective Reed, having 
satisfied himself that none of the employees of the firm wore clothes 
of the kind that he was looking for, took up the matter with Chief 
Matsell, and he came to the conclusion that the button in question was 
left behind by one of the burglars. The Chief summoned all members 
of the Detective Bureau before him, and showed the button to each 
man, and ordered them to watch all persons who passed in or out of 
the Tombs and other courts. Of course my readers understand that 
there was no line-up then as we have today, and a man going out on 
a case was forced to dig up every piece of good judgment and diplo- 
macy at his command to be successful. 

Court Officers Walling and Shadbolt, on their usual rounds of 
crook hunting, entered the old Bowery Pit, a well-known theater of that 


time. In their inspection of the gallery they spied three young fellows, 
one of whom wore a suit of clothes that looked so much like the one 
worn by the burglars on the night of the burglary. Officer Walling 
took a seat alongside the three fellows, and Shadbolt wandered around 
the gallery looking for information or crooks. Walling sat there for 
a while, and, pretending to look at the program, observed the clothes 
worn by the fellow beside him. Sure enough, there was a button 
missing from his coat. 

Walling and Shadbolt talked the matter over, and Walling followed 
the three young men, leaving Shadbolt at the theater to be called for 
later. The three crooks walked down Chatham Street (now Park 
Row), to a lodging house situated on Duane and Chatham Streets, 
about where that old time celebrated "Sweeny's Hotel," stood later, 
in fact the same old building stands there today. (The writer remem- 
bers waiting on the late Charles Stewart Parnell, the Irish leader, in 
that same hotel, Tthink it was in 1883.) Officer Walling being satis- 
fied that those were the three young men wanted, sent a citizen friend 
up to the Bowery Pit "to tell Shadbolt to come at once, and he. Walling, 
continued to cover the house in which the men had gone to sleep. 
Officers Walling and Shadbolt consulted and came to the conclusion 
that they were the men wanted and while Walling was to shadow the 
lodging house, Shadbolt was to report to John Reed for advice as to 
what steps should be taken before making any arrests. 

They held a conference in Chief Matsell's office, deciding to make 
the arrests at daybreak, and another good old detective was added to 
the party in the person of John Wade, a man who had seen long service 
on the force, and whose judgment was often consulted. Officers Wall- 
ing and Shadbolt entered the lodging house and, making their business 
known to the proprietor, went upstairs. They knocked at the door of 
the sleepers who were all in the one bed. One of the three got up 
and opened the door, and after looking out he said to his pals, "The 
cops are here." 

They were foolish enough to try and make a getaway, until Shad- 
bolt had taken a hold of one, and Walling had a hold of the other two, 
picking them up like babies, banging their heads together until they 
cried for mercy. They were questioned again and again, after being 
taken to Central Office, each time denying the crime charged to them 
until Wash. Walling had grabbed a hold of the same two, banging their 
heads together, did they come across, pleading guilty to this and many 
other burglaries, or eleven all told. They were tried and convicted and 
sentenced to serve three years and six months. All the goods stolen 
were recovered in a fence on Centre Street, and that is the end of the 
celebrated button case. 


Of course it does not look much of a case today, we have many in 
which a button is the convicting point, but at the time it was looked 
upon as a remarkable one. Suffice it to say that Chief Matsell recognized 
the ability of Wash. Walling by having him transferred to his office. 

I will cite for you a few of the many interesting cases that came in 
the life of George Washington Walling, the cop on Broadway. 

Broadway, around Park Place, was a very hard spot to do police 
duty away back in the early fifties, especially for a greenhorn in the 
police game. It called for a well seasoned old policeman, one that was 
full of good judgment and diplomacy, yes a bit of a con man, to get 
along with the gamblers that resorted in big Tom McCann's gambling 
house that stood on Park Place near Broadway. 

This, my friends, was the cursed time of Knownothingism, a time 
when a Roman Catholic had to fight for his existence, for it was often 
said by these Knownothing bullies, "I can lick any man that don't eat 
meat on a Friday," and other such damnable remarks. And that is 
where Wash, Walling, a newcomer into this city, had to do his first 
patrol duty, and listen and I will tell you how he did it, and it was not 
by being afraid. No, no, Wash. Walling knew no fear, and after reading 
these stories, you, like the writer, will often wonder how he ever lived 
through it all, but; he did and why ? It is an old and true saying, 
"The world loves a hero," and those hard and tough men of that 
day learned to love and respect young Wash. Walling. 

Walling was patrolling Broadway the night that Tom Hyer, 
America's heavy weight champion, ran foul of James Sullivan of Ban- 
don, Cork, Ireland, alias (Yankee Sullivan), winding up by Hyer 
giving Sullivan a terrible beating in a basement at the corner of Park 
Place and Broadway. This fight brought about the one for the heavy 
weight championship of America between Tom Hyer and Yankee Sul- 
livan. This was one of the bloodiest fights on record. After fighting 
like a pair of dogs, Tom Hyer won. And it is recorded that Officer 
Walling did good police duty that same night, never for a moment 
showing the white feather. 

Sometime after that fight Tom Hyer held a revolver in his hand, 
and was in the act of putting a cap into it." 

"Put that revolver up," shouted Officer Walling. 

"Who the H — are you," Tom Hyer shouted back. 

"I am not going to get killed. You come along with me," said 
Patrolman Walling. 

Tom Hyer did just as he was ordered to do by this gallant young 
police officer, who had entered the saloon, and taking the champion by 
the arm walked him out the back door, and up to Broadway. Tom 
Hyer crossed City Hall Park and entered 25 Park Row, the meeting 


place or headquarters of the famous Bowery Boys, and spent the eve- 
ning with Captain Rynders and his followers, while Officer Walling 
patrolled his post. Was not that a brave act? Well you can go tell 
the world it was. 

There were several such acts in the life of Patrolman Wash. 
Walling, and he was always there to meet whatever might come along, 
he never took water, and this won for him a great name among the 

And I was told by members of his own family that Tom Hyer 
never once forgot the actions of this brave young officer, and that the 
champion was often seen visiting the Wallings, and this continued until 
the death of Tom Hyer, the first American champion of "fistiana/^ 
the noble art of self-defence, or "Hit, stop, and getaway." 

Yankee Sullivan was afterwards put to death by the "Vigilant Com- 
mittees" of San Francisco in 1856, and lies buried in a small grave in 
the churchyard of the "Mission Dolores," in the mission district of San 
Francisco, and while visiting the exhibition or exposition of San 
Francisco in 1915, I visited the grave of that unfortunate man, he being 
born in the County of Cork, my own county in Ireland. I prayed at 
his grave. 

Another one of those same escapades that happened while Mr. 
Walling was on post duty, which may be of interest to my readers, as 
I presume that most any of these episodes are to my old New York 
friends. One evening in April, 1854, John Morrissey, the famous 
leader of the Catholic party of New York that was trying to hold its 
own with the then Knownothing party, sauntered into big Tom Burns' 
gambling hell on Park Place, and with him were two of his faithful 
followers, Johnny Ling and Pardeen O'Leary, both good men of the 
time. It appears that John Morrissey and Tom Burns were paying 
attention to the same woman, and Morrissey had just taken a seat when 
Burns, who had the backing of Bill Poole and his Knownothing fol- 
lowers, jumped at Morrissey, and this brought on a very bitter fight. 
They clinched and rolled over and over the floor, upsetting the big old- 
fashioned stove, the red hot coals spreading over the floor on which 
the men were fighting. 

Burns being the bigger and stronger of the two rolled Morrissey 
into a big pile of the burning coal, kept him there until the flesh was 
burning off his face, and then Johnny Ling and O'Leary jumped in to 
pick Morrissey up, and this caused a free for all, or a fight to a finish 
by the friends of both fighters. But good old John Morrissey jumped 
to his feet and continued the fight, licking the big brute, Tom Burns, 
to his heart's content. 

It was from this "terrible fight that John Morrissey was forever 


after known as Old Smoke, but after this fight he was feared by all, 
and he and his party were given a clear road forever after up Broad- 
way to the "City Hotel" or to "Stanwix Hall," the headquarters of the 
Knownothing party, where Bill Poole was killed in one of the fights 
later on. 

This young police officer made several arrests that night, and the 
men of the day could not understand how a young man like Officer 
Wash. Walling would dare to mix up with and arrest men of that 
character, but he did. 

Then later on came the Draft Riots, and young Wash. Walling had 
been promoted up the line. At this time he was a police captain, and 
while Captain Walling was walking on Third Avenue, he was informed 
that the people were opposing the draft and were marching on the 
Arsenal on Seventh Avenue, to burn it down, after stealing the am- 
munition and stores. Captain Walling hurried back to the station house 
on Thirty-fifth Street, sent out an emergency call to his command both 
on and off duty, and then came an order from central office to rush 
his men to the Arsenal, and to hold the fire lines until relieved by the 
militia. The captain then marched his command of eighty men back 
to his precinct, and awaited further orders from police headquarters, 
holding his men ready for any emergency. Captain Walling was then 
ordered to report with his command to police headquarters forthwith, 
and hiring busses. He was very soon on the job, receiving orders to 
report to the city hall and elsewhere. I stated before how he covered 
the east side. 

Captain Walling ran into a mob of some two thousand wild men 
that were burning up the residences on Fifth Avenue, and while all 
that his command consisted of was eighty men, he gave the order to 
charge, but take no prisoners, dashing into a very uneven fight, but 
winning. After driving all before then, scathering the mob right and 
left, he marched his men over to Eighth Avenue, and while standing on 
the corner of Thirty-Fifth Street and Eighth Avenue, he saw a husky 
fellow breaking into a store with a cart rung, and without waiting for 
an explanation from any one the Captain dashed into the mob and 
struck the fellow a blow from which he fell into the gutter and laid 
there. This brave act of Captain Walling put the fear of God into the 
hearts of the rioters, and they flew for their lives every which way 
they could safely, leaving the Captain and his command behind them. 
A doctor was sent for and he just looked down on the face of the 
man, and said, 'That man is past all doctor's aid, he is dead." And 
without going any further in the doings of Captain Walling, I am sure 
that I have offered enough evidence to prove my case, that he was a 


fearless, upright officer of the law, George Washington Walling, "The 

There were many testimonials presented to Captain and Superin- 
tendent Walling, and his family are prouder of them today than ever. 
I might say a few words before closing about the Walling family whom 
I have had the good fortune to meet. I have written up the story of 
my working under Captain Ed. Walling, son of this great man, G. W. 
'Walling, and the Police Captain Walling of today is a veteran of the 
Civil War, and a fighter every inch. 

It was while stopping with Recorder and Justice of the Peace, Hon. 
Frank Mulford of Fairhaven, New Jersey, in 1917, that I mentioned 
the name of Walling. I think it was in speaking of Captain Ed. 
Walling, my old skipper, that the Judge warmed up and said, "Why 
Mr. Hickey, the Wallings are my boyhood friends, in fact I was the 
schoolmaster of these Walling boys. Come, we will ride over to Key- 
port and see them." We arrived at Keyport, and met the many mem- 
bers of the Walling family and a nobler and more representative family 
it has never be^n my good fortune to meet, and I told them of my 
connection with that part of the Walling family that is uncle Captain 
Ed. Walling, and that I was hoping some day to write up a story of 
the good old Superintendent, G. W. Walling. 

Nothing was too good for Judge Frank Mulford and your humble 
servant on the shore of beautiful Jersey that day. One member of the 
Walling family was the chief sitting magistrate of Keyport, and other 
members are also holding positions of honor in that pretty little hamlet 
by the sea. We were taken into Walling Hall and feasted, and intro- 
duced to all the business men of the town, the chairman of the busi- 
ness men's committee, Mr. Ike Johnson, delivered an address of wel- 
come to Judge Mulford and I, and before leaving we had to promise 
all present that we would return to renew our friendships at some not 
far distant date. The writer promised to return with the Hon. Judge 
Mulford some day, but not until the book spoken of is printed and 
ready for publication. 

The remarks of the writer were received with cheers and we were 
escorted to the town boundary line, bidding good-by to the Wallings of 
Keyport to return to Judge Mulford's handsome residence in Fair- 
haven, New Jersey. Not long afterwards I ran into Police Captain 
Walling, the son of the old superintendent, and I told him the story, 
and he was highly amused, and Captain Walling said to the writer, 
"John, I hope that you are successful in printing and publishing this 
work, for it will be highly interesting in more ways than one, and if I 
can give you any assistance you just call me up. You know, John, that 
there has not been a book of that description printed since the book 


printed in 1885, dedicated to Inspector Tom Byrnes. So that there is 
no reason why this book should not be a good seller, and I wish you 
every success." 

I again met Captain Walling and his family at the carnival given 
by the Patrolmen's Benevolent Association of the City of New York 
at Madison Square Garden, January 31, 1925, and he asked me how 
the book was progressing, and I said I hoped to have the manuscript 
in the hands of a printer in a few weeks. 


Governor Seymour Removes the Police Commissioners, He Not 
Being at all Satisfied with Their Work, and Appoints a 
New Board of Commissioners. This Act of the Governor's 
Caused Quite a Rumpus and the Matter Was Taken to the 
Courts, Making More Trouble for the City. The Governor 
Was Well Within His Rights, the People to a Man Stand- 
ing With Him, Going so Far as to Nominate Him for the 
Office of President in 1868, Running Against and Beaten 
BY the War Hero, General Grant 

In the spring of 1869, the Police Board consisted of Thomas C. 
Acton, Joseph A. Bosworth, Benjamin F. Manierre, and Thomas J. 


July, 1870, Benjamin Nathan was murdered on 23d Street near 

Fifth Avenue. 

December 4, 1872, the Fifth Avenue Hotel burned, there were many 

lives lost among the female help. 

January 1, 1873, the Fifth Avenue Theater burned, causing a great 
loss of property and scenery, but fortunately no lives. 

The population of New York in 1873 was one million, with a police 
force of one thousand one hundred, or about one policeman to every 
sixty-nine persons. Some protection ! 

March 8, 1877, there was a terrible loss of life in the Roman 
Catholic Church of St. Francis Xavier, on West Sixteenth Street 
today, for while the faithful were at mass a small boy shouted fire, fire, 
which turned out to be a false alarm. 

The Labor Riots of 1877 were of a serious character, and caused 
much damage to property all over the city. 

June, 1879, Mrs. Jane Hull, the wife of Dr. Hull, a prominent New 
York physician, was murdered by a colored man servant at 140 West 
42d Street, his purpose being robbery. He was arrested, tried, con- 
victed, and hanged for the crime. 

March 12, 1888, the great blizzard struck New York, at one a. m., 
and brought with it terrible ruin and destruction, with much loss of 
life and property. 

A terrible cold wave struck New York in the winter of 1918, the 
mercury dropping as low as thirteen below zero. Some cold for little 

old New York! 



Archbishop of New York and First Chaplain-in-Chief of the 

United States Forces. 

Hero of the Maine; First Police Chaplain. 1905. 


Pastor of St. Andrew's Church; Paroled from 

Sing Sing. 

Courtesy of Political News Magazine 

Champion Long Distance Runner of Police Department, 1893-1905 

The Champions of the Police Athletic A<;soctation of Greater New York in Newport, 1905. J. J. 

HiCKEY, Manager. 


The total eclipse of the sun took place here last week, or January 
27, 1925, and it had the whole country guessing, many being afraid 
to go to sleep. And strange to say that although we were in total 
darkness, there was not a single watch stolen, for Police Commissioner 
Enright had every man on the job. 

Governor Seymour was not at all satisfied with the showing made 
by several of the Police Commissioners, and on December 31, 1863, 
he removed Commissioners Acton, Bergen, and Bowen, and appointed 
to succeed them Joseph S. Bosworth, William McMurray, and William 

B. Lewis. 

The Commissioners to be removed refused to obey the edict of the 
Governor, and in spite of the fact that they had been removed and 
successors appointed, held on as Commissioners, and continued to dis- 
charge the duties thereof. 

In this emergency the Legislature stepped in, and on March 15, 
1864, by enactment, provided that " in place of the Commissioners of 
the Metropolitan Police, appointed under and by virtue of Chapter 259 
of the laws of 1864, whose several terms of office are hereby vacated, 
there are hereby appointed respectfully, as such Commissioners, Thomas 

C. Acton to hold office until March 1, 1872; Joseph S. Bosworth, to 
hold office until March 1, 1870; John G. Bergen, to hold office until 
March 1, 1868; and William McMurray, to hold office until March 1, 
1866." Any vacancy occurring during the term of any commissioner 
was to be filled by the Board of Commissioners, and the commissioner 
so appointed was to hold the office until his successor was duly elected 
by the Legislature. 

A commissioner whose term of office had expired continued to hold 
office until his successor was elected and qualified. 

In 1864, the Police Life Insurance Fund was amended and placed 
on a more solid footing to the advantage of all concerned. 

May 2, 1865, the first paid fire department was organized and put 
in force. 

This valuable addition, I must again say, is not properly supported 
by the administration for like the police department they are short- 
handed and not fit to protect the population of today. 

March, 1866, Benjamin F. Manierre was appointed a Police Com- 
missioner to succed William McMurray, resigned. 

1867, Bob Dunn murdered by Billy Sharkey. Sharkey was sen- 
tenced to die, but escaped from jail. 

1868, Matthew Brennan appointed Police Commissioner to succeed 
John G. Bergen, removed by death. 


1869, Matt Brennan resigned and was succeeded by Thomas J. 

May, 1869, the Legislature passed an act making the term of a 
police commissioner eight years. 

1869, after nine years of hard service, Thomas C. Acton, resigned 
and was succeeded by Commissioner Henry Smith. 

The "Tweed" Charter passed the Legislature in 1870, and the 
police force was reorganized. 

1868 was a memorable year in the early life of little old New York, 
for in that year was built the then largest hall in the city, I speak of 
Tammany Hall, on East Fourteenth Street. The sachems of this grand 
old organization paid $80,000 for ground, and $300,000 to build this 
beautiful hall, and it stands out today as one of the grandest old halls 
in this big city. Of course, it is not as large as the later day insti- 
tutions, but believe me it is far more patriotic, for on July 4th every 
year, old Tammany Hall is filled to overflowing with the good men and 
women members of this great body, there to renew their pledge — the 
pledge of all good Americans, that is to devote their lives to this our 
beloved country, America, and to preserve her constitution and her 

Tammany Hall was dedicated July 4, 1868, and to celebrate the 
opening of this Democratic institution, for the first and only time in 
the history of this grand old city, the Democrats of the United States 
met there in convention to nominate a man for president of these 
United States, and the mantle of this great honor after five days of 
voting fell upon the shoulders of a sachem of Tammany Hall, a man 
who had given up the best part of his life to our city, and one who had 
served the state for two long terms as governor. Yes, after a very 
spirited contest Horatio Seymour was nominated as our standard bearer 
for the presidency, but he was up against a great American, the general 
who had won the Civil War, and the outcome of it all was that General 
Ulysses S. Grant was elected president. 

Oh, boys ! but they were the happy days and nights in this big 
city, when the music of the paraders, with such men as John Morrissey 
and his friends, the good old volunteer Fire Department members, and 
the Tammany Members of the Grand Army of the Republic, and many 
others too numerous to mention, in line pouring forth the beautiful 
strains of music, "My Country, 'tis of thee. Sweet land of Liberty," 
"Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean," and other inspiring songs of 

And along the line of march could be seen such men as Samuel J. 
Tilden, John Jacob Astor, Commodore Vanderbilt, Jay Gould, and 
many others of those grand old men of the past. 


It cost the Society of Tammany twenty thousand dollars for dec- 
orations for the opening day and convention, but what was money to 
their happiness ? 

Yes, and at that same convention the question of woman suffrage 
was laughed at, while today one-third of the delegates to our next con- 
vention will be the women. Oh, but how New York has changed. 

And all the hotels of that day have long since passed away, for the 
only relic left is the Broadway Central Hotel, in which Jim Fisk was 
shot and killed by Ed Stokes, over a love affair, the woman in the case 
being none other than Josie Mansfield. 

But, my ! how history does repeat itself ! Here we are today, 
January, 1924, chuckling to ourselves over the fact that New York is 
again to hold another Democratic Convention, not in Tammany Hall, 
but in Madison Square Garden, just a little distance further uptown, 
thanks to Tex Rickard, that wonderful sports promoter, the greatest of 
this or any other time. But what a different New York these delegates 
from other states will find, thanks to such wonderful Americans as 
Thomas Edison and others whose whole lives have been devoted to the 
search of the wonderful inventions that they have so successfully 
brought about, to make us New Yorkers and our visiting men and 
women friends happy. And imagine that all of the coming joy and 
happiness will be in the shadows of the old Fifth Avenue Hotel, the 
Hoffman House, and other old time "Amen corners," the meeting place 
of Tom Piatt and friends long since passed away. 

Yes, when June 24th arrives, the day the convention opens to nomin- 
ate for president the Hon. Alfred E. Smith, twice governor, and a 
striking example of the late Horatio Seymour, and David B. Hill, all 
faithful sons of Democracy, one will then be proud and thank God, that 
we are the sons and daughters of little old New York, the world's great- 
est empire. But Al Smith can boast of something more than could 
these other men spoken of, for Governor Smith is a product of and still 
lives in good old New York, and who has more than once stated that 
he would much rather be a lamp-post in New York than governor, of 
another state. That's the kind of a Democrat that we are going to put 
in the famous presidential chair in Washington, one who graduated 
from old Fulton Fish Market, and not from the plow or the canal boat, 
with all due respect to the presidential timber of the past. Al Smith 
has been plowing all of his life, and is still plowing, and will continue 
plowing until he reaches his goal, the White House in Washington, 
D. C. Then when we safely land Alfred E. Smith in the presidential 
chair, we will be a united people ; there will be no Ku Klux Clan, or 
Bolshevik. Everyone will have to be a good true-blue American, or 
leave the country. We have no room for imposters, nor those d 


rascals that would prostitute the rights and freedom of us Americans, 
or will the question of his religion be allowed to enter this fight. We 
did not question the religion of our former presidents. Religion has 
no place at all in the question of electing a fitting son of America to 
preside over us Americans, and that must be final and for all time. 
Then we will all be better Americans, holding out the good right hand 
of fellowship to our citizens in particular, and the world in general. 
And God willing we will all meet on the morning of June 24, 1924, and 
join in the chorus of "Al — aa-bam-ugh !" and the greatest convention 
of all time will be in operation, and may God grant to them the wisdom 
and guidance for a successful finish. 

And if it is not the wishes nor the wisdom of these great men to 
nominate for the presidency Governor Alfred E. Smith, then we as 
good citizens will submit to their wise conclusions and vote for the man 
nominated. And to make the program more complete, I would very 
much like to see our former great president, the Hon. Woodrow Wilson, 
sitting on the platform in the position of Honorary Delegate. 

In conclusion I would respectfully request of my readers not to 
judge me, nor my remarks too harshly. I simply write as I feel, and 
that is the privilege of all good Americans. The Democratic Conven- 
tion of 1924 is now a thing of the past, and after many days and nights 
of very hard and trying work, the religious question came to the front, 
and Governor Smith was defeated, but we hope for better luck in 1928. 

But that same old cry still lingers in my ear, of "Alabama votes, 
28 for McAdoo, while New York votes 90 for Governor Al Smith. 

In 1868 there was an organization known as "Brown's Young 
Men," and it consisted of one man and his poor friends, and here are 
the particulars. Sexton B. of Grace Church made it a business to sup- 
ply to fashionable or pseudo-fashionable society for its dances and en- 
tertainments just as many would-be aristocrats as were ordered. And 
this same Mr. B. was one of the famous men of his day, simply because 
he was able to supply the giiests at either a funeral or wedding, or any 
other old party, and this is how he did it. He always carried a staff 
of broken-down noblemen-seedy lords from Germany, Hungarian 
barons out at the elbow, members of the European aristocracy who left 
home for their country's good. When he needed these fine gentlemen 
all that he had to do was to send out a round robin, and very soon he 
would have enough on hand in full dress suits or a bunch in cutaways, 
white vest and white cravats, to satisfy the tastes of any man or woman. 

Of course these gentlemen bums could talk the lingo required, and it 
is known where these actors got in very close to the friendships of quite 
^ few ladies of the land by their misrepresentations. All they asked 


was a good dinner or supper for their work, with a dance and liquored 
refreshments, and for same they allowed themselves to be passed off 
as the sons of distinguished New Yorkers. I could tell you a whole lot 
about this sweet Mr. B. and his foxey army, but space won't permit. 
I guess it was a band of B's pirates that went back to Germany and put 
the Kaiser on the bum by driving him into war, and bankrupting the 
country, and worse still carrying other countries with him. 

May 23, 1873, William F. Havemeyer was elected mayor, and he 
then appointed Mr. Matsell, Superintendent of Police, to succeed James 
J. Kelso, who had been appointed to take the place of Mr. Matsell on 
his dismissal from the department by the Commissioner in 1857. 

In July, 1874, Fernando Wood again became Mayor, and having 
called upon Police Commissioners Oliver Charlick and Hugh Gardiner 
to resign, Mr. Matsell was appointed a Police Commissioner and elected 
President of the Board. Superintendent John A. Kennedy resigned 
and was succeeded by John Jourdan, who died in office shortly after. 
Mr. Matsell held the office of Police Commissioner and President of the 
Police Board until December 1, 1875, resigning to go back into the law 
business, becoming very successful building up a great business, for he 
could never spell the word failure, nor did he know what it meant. 
The valuable experience picked up as a member of the police force 
helped him very much in his law business and he became a very wealthy 

It was Mr. Matsell who originated the much quoted phrase, "The 
finest police force in the world," and a truer phrase was never before 
uttered by man. 

Mr. Matsell lived at 250 East 58th Street, New York City, where 
he was overcome by sickness and died in his seventy-first year, July 25, 
1877, and was buried with a great public demonstration of his friends 
who mourned their loss, "for to know him was to love him." 

Chief Matsell was dead, but he left behind him something that 
should live in the hearts and minds of us old New Yorkers for all time, 
his brains and labor. To relate here the trials and tribulations of Mr. 
Matsell is impossible, it would take up too much space and time, but 
suffice it to say that Chief Matsell was appointed, promoted, demoted, 
dismissed, and resigned from the Police Department of his busy years 
of service. And to Mr. Metsell all credit must be given, for it was he 
who laid the foundation stone of the present police administration, by 
promulgating the rules and regulations for the protection and guidance 
of this municipality. Peace be to you, George Matsell, Jacob Hays, 
John A. Kennedy, General O'Brien, and all of the good men of the past, 
that gave up their lives to the cause of the good government of this 
great city of ours. Farewell. 


Ex-Captain John Delaney also worked up a wonderful record for 
himself for bravery and perseverance; he had no equal, and I will tell 
of one or two of his wonderful cases. Some day I may tell you more. 
This grand old Irish-American copper was detailed to court duty and 
was called upon to serve a warrant on a nasty mean crook, an employee 
of the notorious Billy McGlory on Hester Street near the Bowery, 
December 4, 1879. Sergeant John Delaney went downtown to serve 
the warrant, and it was on a very busy Saturday night, but that did 
not stop him. In he went and when the rascal that he was to arrest 
learned of John Delaney 's mission, he at once try to get away, 
and they clinched at the head of the stairs, and John Delaney was 
thrown down the stairs. Sergeant Delaney was just after receiving 
a gold medal from Congress for having jumped into the icy waters of 
the East River and saving the life of a young man, so that he was yet 
suffering from the exposure and cold received from this heroic act. 
The Sergeant picked himself up as best he could, and seeing his man 
Patrick McGowan getting into a cab making his getaway, he ran after 
the cab calling McGowan to stop or he would kill him. But the answer 
to this demand was a shot from McGowan's gun, striking John Delaney, 
and blowing out an eye, but John in all of his pain never stopped a 
moment and firing at the cab he killed McGowan. I met our dear old 
friend Captain John at the funeral of Tom Foley, and he looked fine, 
like a man of forty. 

This, my good readers, is wonderful work for any man to do, be- 
cause one is under an awful strain in such a predicament. I have been 
in such a mess on three different occasions, guns pointed at me, but I 
never got shot like my good friend ex-Captain John Delaney, now liv- 
ing happy in retirement. Superintendent of buildings Tom O'Brien 
tells some great stories about Captain John. 

April, 1880, the west wall of Madison Square Garden fell, killing 

November, 1881, Charles P. Miller, murdered by "Bill" Tracy in the 
saloon of "Dick" Darling, 1217 Broadway. Tracy arrested and 

December 24, 1881, Louis Hanier, a French saloonkeeper, killed by 
Mike McGloin in cold blood. McGloin hanged in the Tombs, March 9, 
1883. This is one of the cases to make up the record of Inspector Tom 

October, 18'82, the Park Avenue Hotel burned; many lives lost. 

October, 1883, "Johnny Walsh," alias "Johnney the Mick," and 
"Johnney Irving," shot and killed in the saloon of "Shang Draper," 
466 Sixth Avenue. This was a fight over spoils. "Billy Porter" was 
arrested for the crime, but there was no conviction. 


Police Commissioner Sidney Nichols was in hard luck, having held 
the office of Police Commissioner several years, and elected treasurer 
of the department, a position afterwards held by John McClave. Under 
the administration of Mayor Ely charges were preferred against him, 
but he beat them, and again under the administration of Mayor Cooper, 
in 1879, more charges were preferred and he was removed by the 
Mayor, and succeeded by Charles F. McLean. Governor Robinson ap- 
proved of his dismissal. But old man Sid Nichols was not to be out- 
done. He demanded to be represented by counsel at his trial, but same 
being denied, he took his case to the Court of Appeals, and won on 
that very point, thereby establishing a very important precedent. He 
was reappointed by Mayor Edson January 10, 1883. Commissioner 
Nichols was a prime favorite among the members of the force, and it is 
said that he could get through more work than could any other two 
commissioners of that time. Commissioner Nichols died in his fifty- 
third year and was buried from his former home, 417 West 25th 
Street, New York City, mourned by all who knew him. 

John McClave, a very fine man, was appointed by Mayor Edson, to 
succeed Commissioner Nichols. The son and namesake was appointed 
a Police Commissioner a few years after, and was a member of the 
board when the writer was appointed on the force July 25, 1890. 

Such able and learned men as John Ford, Justice of the Supreme 
Court, Daniel F. Cohalan, also a Justice of the Supreme Court, Ran- 
dolph G. Martine, a very able Judge of General Sessions, John F. 
Ahearn, twice Borough President of Manhattan, and State Senator 
Edward F. Reilly, both of whom were the sons of policemen, and at 
all time the friends of policemen, firemen, school teachers, and in fact 
they were the friends of all municipal employees, and were forever 
looking to improve their positions in both state and city governments. 
They were then coming to the front, and now the first two mentioned 
are still with us and will be for many years to come I hope and pray, 
while the good old policemen's sons are both dead and gone, peace be 
to them all. 

I simply write of these gentlemen, because I know them personally, 
and am thoroughly acquainted with their good records, and can vouch 
for all I say. I never tire in writing the life story of such good and 
faithful servants. More power to them that's living and the Lord be 
good to the dead. 

Joel W. Mason, appointed Commissioner, May 25, 1880, succeeded 
by John McClave, 1884, Stephen B. French, appointed Commissioner, 
1883 and in 1884. McClave and French v/ere appointed to succeed 
themselves, the Board then stood HcLean, Martin, McClave and 
French. But it is hard to keep an account of those Commissioners 


following, for some of them were not in the position long enough to 
issue an order. I speak of Bugher, Cropsy and Baker. We had John 
C. Sheehan, Hamilton, Greene, Partridge, Waldo, McKay, McAdoo, 
Bingham and Woods, but the Daddy of them all is Commissioner 
Richard E. Enright. 

Speaking about old police headquarters, I will tell you what hap- 
pened to me there one fine morning, and I thank my stars that I Uve 
to tell the tale for, under like circumstances, another fellow would be 
in the hands of the undertaker. It happened in this way. It is a well- 
known fact that the New York policemen of the past were a tough 
bunch, for they would just as soon fight as eat ; they were broken into it 
by the surroundings, tliey had to deal with a darn tough element. It 
was coming on to the end of the season when we had to provide our- 
selves with a new helmet, and to be prepared some of us would go to 
headquarters, after the last tour, midnight to six a. m. and get our 
helmet to avoid the crowds later on. It was at the time that the late 
Colonel Roosevelt was appointed Commissioner by the late Mayor 
Strong in 1885. We were standing in line waiting to be served by Jim 
Moore of the equipment bureau. Roosevelt's office was on the same 

We men were tired out and sleeping on the shoulders of each other, 
when of a sudden there was quite a commotion, and I was nearly 
knocked down, and I lost no time in shouting out, "Where are you 
running to you crazy S ," but they kept right on running down- 
stairs to the Chief's office. I afterwards learned it was the newspaper 
men after a story. The man next to me in fine said, "What's the 
matter with you, don't you know who that is?" and I said no, but he 
nearly knocked me down, "Why, that's our new Commissioner." Well, 
gee, you should see me running out the building through the Mott 
Street entrance, and I did not return for another week. Some few 
years after, Governor Roosevelt and I were guests of the Grand Army, 
and on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House, and after singing 
the "Star Spangled Banner," we were enjoying our refreshments, and 
I told the Governor my story. "Under what circumstance was that." 
I told him and he laughed, and said, "Yes, I would do the same thing." 
We were friends and I have his letter on exhibition at the Roosevelt 
Home, East 20th Street. 

The year of 1894 was a very troublesome one for the police depart- 
ment inasmuch as that we were cursed with the "Lexow Investigating 
Committee." I don't have to ask my readers, but what good did they 
do the city, or the taxpayers of same ? But nevertheless v/e were again 
given the Fassett Committee, The Roosevelt, and other investigating 
committees. With all due respect to the promoters of these commit- 


tees, I don't think that they were working to the best inerests of the 
people, for they no doubt let a few friends escape, and piled up 
a large bill of expenses that might have been spent in charity. And 
again they indicted a few officials, and the indictments were not worth 
the paper they were printed upon, because they were all, with the ex- 
ceptions of Captains Carpenter and Eakins, two good men, who no 
doubt were made the goats, the others were reinstated by the courts, 
with back pay and legal expenses refunded. 

Every once in a while we read of some one being indicted, con- 
nected with the city government, but next week again we read of the 
indictment being dismissed. For the love of Mike, will we, the tax- 
payers of New York, ever get to understand all of this indictment non- 
sense, unless in a case of where they sure have the goods on a person, 
then by all means go to it, but for heaven's sake, stop giving aw^ay our 
good money for bad, for if these lawyers must have some excitement 
and salary to live on, then let them get into the oil trust, or ask their 
friend Anderson where they can get $25,000 for doing nothing. Why 
Heavenly Father, only last spring a certain windjammer stood on the 
floor of the Legislature and called another decent honest man holding 
office a grafter and a bootlegger, and to help him out of a hole he was 
wise enough to get a certain Judge mixed up in his dirty work, and 
when called upon to prove their case, after many months, they failed. 

And the honorable judge in the case, after hearing one of the de- 
fendants passing the buck to the other, dismissed the case against him, 
and held the promoter of these vile charges for trial. But the worst 
part of this case is that the defendant discharged who, by his own un- 
wise judgment brought about this trouble for himself, turns around and 
asks the city to pay his expenses, and counsel's bill, of some I think 
many thousands. Is that a square deal? Why no, let every trouble- 
maker suffer. 


Police Records of the Past, Giving Briefly the Records of such 
Old-Time Detectives as Inspector William Murray and 
Thomas F. Byrnes, Captain James McCaffrey and the Men 
OF Their Commands. Also the Story of Colonel Rhine- 
lander Waldo's Administration — Its Trials and Tribula- 
tons. Having to do with the Rosenthal Murder and Other 
Matters of Importance 

Inspector William Murray was one of the best policemen that ever 
carried a night stick. I will speak of a part of his record. Born in 
New York City, in 1844, he fought in the Civil War, was wounded at 
Bull Run and other battles, and returned home covered with glory. 
He joined the police force in 1866, and made a wonderful record for 
himself, making many important arrests such as the "Astoria Burglars," 
and while captain of the old fourth precinct, No. 9 Oak Street, he made, 
in eight months, arrests and secured convictions amounting in the aggre- 
gate to five hundred years, and was promoted inspector on his wonder- 
ful record. 

Inspector Thomas F. Byrnes was another wonder detective, and 
he made a good record in arresting the gang that robbed the Manhattan 
bank in the year 1878, and it was he who established the great detective 
bureau that we are proud of today. Tom Byrnes was careful enough 
to pick out a staff of clever detectives such as Billy McLoughlin, Ed 
Slevin, Dick O'Connor. This trio was known all over the world as In- 
spector Byrnes' big four. They, assisted by another wonderful young 
detective, Andy Nugent, piled up for themselves a world's record of 
arrests and convictions. Here are some of the great cases they made 
good in by arresting and convicting the principals. Besides the Man- 
hattan bank burglars there was the murder case known as the Captain 
Unger murder ; the Louis Hanier case of murder committed by Mike 
McGloin ; the Gudensupe murder case ; the Jack the Slasher and Jack 
the Ripper cases, and many others too numerous to mention. 

The Inspector also had a number of other good men on his staff. I 
will mention the names of these men, but I cannot give their wonderful 
and highly interesting records at this time : Tim Golden, John Adams, 
John Dunn, Tom Hickey, Mike Crowley, John Doyle, George Mc- 
Clusky, Steve O'Brien, Bob McNaught, Frank Mangin, Joe Gehegan, 



Jake Von Garichten, Tom Murray, John Heard, Thomas F. Adams, 
Joe Woolridge, Sergeant Isaac Bird, Tom Miilry, John Ruland, CharHe 
Ileidelhurg, Jack Wade, Joe Petrosini, Charlie O'Connor, George R. 
Dilks, son of the old inspector of that name, and others. But out of 
this great body of clever men, there are but a few living today. Chief 
W. W. McLoughlin and Andy Nugent. They did wonderful Police 
duty, peace be to them all. 

Byrnes ruled supreme from 1883 to 1897. 

Superintendent George W. Walling was appointed patrolman in 
1847, and died in 1885, leaving behind him a memorable record of love 
and kindness. Inspector Thomas W. Thorne was appointed a patrol- 
man in 1853, inspector in 1875, and died in 1885, and the same may be 
said of Inspector Thorne as is said of our good old friend, Superin- 
tendent Walling, they were good superior officers, always kind and 
respectful to both the citizens and the men under them, and a good kind 
word will always be spoken of a good boss. But it must be remembered 
that we are blessed with both good and bad police commissioners and 
superior officers, but it's the under fry that brings a bad odor to the 
offices of these good men. 

Colonel Waldo and Colonel Woods were good men, but they allowed 
the Deputy Commissioners in some instances to overstep their power. 
The same way be said of Commissioner McAdoo, and my old friend 
General Bingham ; they were both good men, but they too allowed the 
Deputy to assume too much power; yes in fact to run the whole ma- 
chine, and that is a very serious mistake. But we have today, and have 
had in the past some good Deputy Commissioners, men that knew their 
places and did not, or do they, assume the powers of their superior. 
No, no. Commissioner Enright is the Boss. You know, my friends, it 
is an old and true saying, kind words or actions can never die, nor the 
memory of good bosses ever depart. 

Thomas F. Byrnes was born in Ireland, and came here as a child. 
In 1863, he became a patrolman and in 1870 a sergeant, followed by his 
promotion to the position of police captain, and after being transferred 
from precinct to precinct, he was assigned to the detective bureau at 
poHce headquarters and promoted to the position of police inspector. 

The world knows that Tom Byrnes was a good policeman, for he 
picked up the best detectives of that day and constantly relied on their 
experience. They all made good, just look up their records and you 
will be amazed at their good work; but in writing them up I could 
not for a moment attempt to do these good men justice, I know them, 
I worked with many of them. But I am sorry to say that Inspector 
Tom Byrnes was somewhat of an autocrat, and that does not sound good 
for one Irish born, because when our good St. Patrick drove the snakes 


out of Ireland, he said, "Now I leave everything that's good in Ireland, 
and her sons and daughters may go and do for all mankind the same 
as I have done for Ireland." "Go forward and be kind to humanity, 
and humanity will surely be kind to you." 

But I am sorry to say that Tommy Byrnes, the Irish lad, was not 
very kind to us men under him, for in the first place he never recognized 
us as a body of men working under him. No, Inspector Byrnes played 
to the upper ten, and did not give us a tumble. Yes, Inspector Byrnes 
inflicted several injustices on us men that I shall never forget. One 
of those was in 1895. He ordered all of us men to be transferred on 
election day to precincts miles away from our homes, making no pro- 
vision for our eats or votes. But he did not rob me of either, for 
Patrolman Bill Dunbar can bear me out as he is living today, that I 
both ate and voted. I worked and waited too darned long to become a 
citizen to have any man deny me my rights. 

On another occasion Inspector Byrnes ordered our night sticks taken 
from us, and they were, because Tom Byrne's order must and was 
obeyed. But just imagine a poor devil of a lone policemen patrolling 
the Cherry Hill or the Hell's Kitchen or the Corcoran's Roost of those 
days, and his only tool of protection taken from him. Just place your- 
self in his shoes, was that a square deal? Well I guess not, but it did 
not phase me for I manned myself with a piece of rubber hose, about 
eighteen inches long, a piece that had been well used in the cellar or 
behind the bar of the saloon of that day. Yes and you can believe me 
it was better than a night stick, for when it was not in use I would 
carry it up the sleeve of my coat, ever ready for any emergency, and 
when the tough fellow would come up to me to give me an argument, 
knowing full well that I had no stick to protect myself with, he having 
the best of a cop at all times, for while a policeman was at all times 
bundled up in clothes the rowdy was loose and better able to handle 
himself. Ah, but he did not count on the rubber hose, and I v/ould 
lead off with my left and soak him with the rubber hose with my right, 

and he would fly for his life, saying to himself, gee what the h 1 

did he hit me with? He didn't have any stick in his hand. And so it 
went on, until Mayor Strong appointed the late Colonel Roosevelt a 
Police Commissioner, and he had just about taken the chair when he 
ordered, "Give those patrolmen back their night sticks, how can you 
expect a good mechanic to work without tools?" And so it went on, 
and whatever happened between Roosevelt and Byrnes before the 
Roosevelt Investigation Committee, of some time before, I cannot say, 
but suffice it to say that there was no room in the department for two 
big roughriders at the same time, so Tom Byrnes breezed out, lived in 


retirement until May 7, 1910, died and was buried and the police force 
is still going strong. 

In the matter of my rubber hose, and I have it to this day, my good 
friend Frank O'Brien, the present editor of the Nezv York Herald, 
wrote an article on Officer Hickey and his rubber hose, in the New 
York Sun at that time. I still hold the clipping and it keeps company 
with that good old rubber hose. Frank O'Brien is the brother of John 
O'Brien, former fire commissioner, two fine gentlemen from Buffalo, 
and they have both made good, and will be heard from again, sooner or 

These two good men with William or (Willy) Willis were all mem- 
bers of Mayor George B. McClellan's cabinet during his two terms as 
Mayor. Moses W. Cortright, another grand old police chief, died in 
1916. Police Commissioner James J. Martin, died May 17, 1919. 
Third deputy police commissioner Harriss Lindsley, died 1905. Third 
deputy police commissioner James J. Mack, died 1916. Chief of 
Police William S. Devery, died June 20, 1919. John F. Ahearn, 
borough president, died December 19, 1920. Inspector Henry V. 
Steers died June 17, 1916. Police chaplains Father Francis J. Sullivan 
died October 12, 1915 ; Father Thomas F. Dufify died February 7, 1922; 
Rabbi Blum died April, 1921 ; Father J. J. Coogan died August 25, 
1924. Captain Tony Allaire died June, 1912. Inspector Alex Wil- 
liams died March, 1917. Chief of police John McCullugh died Feb- 
ruary, 1917. Inspector George F. Titus died March, 1918. Chief 
clerks Seth Hawley died November, 1884; Colonel William H. Kipp 
died March, 1918; Roger Walsh died April, 1921. 

When Inspector Byrnes stepped out of the department by retire- 
ment, another clean-cut gentleman stepped in, in the person of Peter 
Conlon, and one of the first orders of St. Peter (God bless the mark) 
was to honeycomb the city with shooflies, one of the worst un- 
American acts ever introduced into a department composed of red- 
blooded Americans, because these rascals of shooflies will lie to get a 
complaint. I know it, I, like thousands of my good side partners, have 

suffered, and I hold evidence of their infernal lies(h to their dirty 

souls) ; they cared little for the trouble they were making for others; 
but just as sure as there is a good Lord above, all of these wretched 
trouble makers will yet pay the penalty of their crimes. 

Roosevelt, too, went out and Frank Moss came in. Peter Conlon 
also went out. I am not quite sure if he went out to meet those six 
hundred-dollar roundsmen that he was promoting or not? Some of 
those gents can best answer that question. And to succeed Conlon 
in came one of the whitest and gamest, honestest men the force ever 


knew, either before or after, and that was John McCullugh, peace be 
to him today. 

The very first act of Chief of PoHce John McCullugh was issued 
in short order : Go draw in those dammed shooflies, and put them to 
work in precincts. This is not Russia, this is America, and our police 
force is composed of good red-blooded Americans. And good old 
John McCullugh became the first chief of police under greater New 
York in 1898, Robert Van Wyck was mayor, and Bird S. Coler, 
comptroller. Well, the fortunes of war caused John McCullugh to 
leave the department, and Chief William S. Devery succeeded, and 
you all know the hard road poor Devery had to travel over, for they 
did everything but murder that grand old policeman. 

And so the job went along, going from bad to worse until the 
people arose en masse and demanded that New York must and should 
be governed by a poor man's friend, the friend of humanity, and John 
F. Hylan was elected mayor, and it was this good man that had the 
foresight to see and to know that it takes an engineer to run a train, 
and a policeman to run the police department, so that the very busy train 
of city administration is running more strongly every day, with En- 
gineer John F. Hylan at the throttle, and Police Commissioner Richard 
E. Enright shoveling the coal. Some team ! 

Just a line about the police department's clerical staff of the past 
and present. Seth Hawley was chief clerk for many years and he made 
a wonderful record for himself in the Draft Riots, before mentioned, 
but death that comes to us all visited Seth Hawley, and that grand old 
character passed on. The next in line was that grand old fighting hero. 
Colonel William H. Kipp, who had won his laurels on the bloody fields 
of battle in the Civil War, being wounded twice, and he sure made a 
fine record as chief clerk in our great police department, but death 
called the good old warrior, and he too passed on. Next in line was 
Roger K. Walsh, another very fine man, but unfortunately he was 
not spared us very long to add to his record, and death called on 
Roger Walsh, and he too marched onward. Then came a fine young 
man whom I remember the very day that he walked into police head- 
quarters for the first time, a nice clean-cut boy, and all of those many 
years, I guess near thirty, Grant Crabtree, like his predecessors, has 
been making good, and while none of us holds any lease on our lives, I 
think to look at Grant today they won't be putting the skids under 
him for many moons. Grant Crabtree and the writer, we may say, grew 
up in the department together, and when I met him at the carnival of 
the P.B.A., last week. Grant looked better than he did twenty years 
ago. I guess Grant has the secret of married life, for he likes it. More 
power to you Grant Crabtree, go to it. 


And when I sit down and look back at old police headquarters of 
some twenty-five years ago, and remember the smiling faces of such men 
as William Delamater, George Stone, Charlie Philips, George F. Has- 
brouk, Tom Doran, and Tom Feeley, and many others around that 
grand old building of 300 Mulberry Street, and to think that they are 
all passed and gone, I wonder and say to myself, "Gee, is it my second 
time on earth?" 

Yes, dear readers, those were the happy days when I would run up 
to old police headquarters to have a chat with Billy Moore and Paddy 
Cunningham, of the equipment bureau, John F. Harriot of lost prop- 
erty, Rob Petersen and young Seth Hawley and Colonel Parker of the 
bureau of records and complaints, and others of that same old school. 
I feel that I owe our good Lord above an awful lot, to think that I 
am spared to write up this story of the past, for who knows that when 
I am dead and gone some of the new cops of today might, in retirement, 
take the task upon themselves to write up a story of the boys of the 
present clerical force, and my own two sons will be remembered among 
them. One of them, Thomas, left his desk to go fight for his country 
in the late World War ; the other, Timothy, was too young to fight, but 
his brother Robert enlisted in the navy and was stationed on a sub- 
marine chaser all through the great war. Thomas a sergeant in the 
engineers and Robert in the navy, each for more than two years, I 
felt very proud of my family. 

The men of today in the clerical department that I call upon now 
and then, are George B. Hawthorne, bookkeeper, a relic of old times 
and a fine fellow ; deputy clerks Vincent Finn, Mr. Ormsby, and 
Stephen McDonald, Ed Ray, Rob Gay, and several others of these 
good boys, that I hope will some day make their mark, Lieutenant Fred 
Cruise, Sergeant Phil Carroll, Mr. P. H. Enright, good old Captain 
Charley Schofield, and Lieutenant Marty Noonan, Bob Farrell, and 
last, but not least. Lieutenant Bill Brennan, the Duke of Centre Street, 
custodian of the big white castle, police headquarters, Tom O'Brien, 
superintendent of buildings, Jim Connelly, printing bureau. 

But I do so love to go back to the boys of the old school, and when 
I think of Charley Grant, secretary to Commissioner John McClave, 
John O'Brien of the bureau of elections, Bob Wood of the stationery 
department, George F. Mellish and Dianiel J. Craig, department of 
stenographers, good men every one of them. Old Wash Mullen of the 
sanitary department, and young Wash connected with the same bureau, 
John W. Haggerty then in charge of the mechanical department, and 
the grand old board of police surgeons, not a one of them to tell the 
tale but the grand old Doctor Charles E. Nammack, and he is now 
retired and doing well. Martin McGovern died in 1918, Dr. Phelps and 


John R. Nesbitt and the others, too many to write about, are all gone, 
but Doctor Reese R. Voorhees I don't know but I hope that he is alive 
and doing well, for they were a great bunch of good doctors of the 
old type.. 

One other grand old man of the long ago was Captain George W. 
Gastling of the old steamboat squad. He was promoted to captain and 
organized this squad in June, 1876, and he certainly kept the river 
pirates and bunko steerers around Castle Garden on the run. 

On my way to California via New Orleans on the Morgan Line S, 
S. Creole and when only a few hours out on St. Patrick's day of 1915, 
I was asked to go to the cabin of Chief Steward O'Byrne, and he said, 
"Mr. Hickey, there is a Mrs. Johnson on board and she wishes to see 
you." Well, by the holy St. Jack's stones, a lady to meet me ! I 
was thunderstruck. He asked me to go with him to the captain's 
cabin, and there I met a very fine lady, whom I afterwards found out 
was the daughter of Captain Gastling, and the wife of Police Surgeon 
Dr. Johnson, who, I am sorry to say, died of late, and Mrs. Johnson is 
also the mother-in-law of Captain Jacobs, master of the steamer. Well 
it goes without saying that I was made one of the captain's party and 
given a royal time until we arrived at New Orleans, and we met again 
in Los Angeles and San Francisco. Well Mrs. Johnson and I would sit 
on deck talking about her grand old police father and everything 
police for forty years back, and I found this good lady a very inter- 
esting person, and while we have had a "daughter of the regiment," I 
named Mrs. Johnson a daughter of the police force of New York. 

I was called upon to visit her married son and family, and he was 
also a George W. Gastling and manager of one of the largest business 
concerns in Los Angeles, and we spent several pleasant evenings to- 
gether, before I had to leave for the "Expositions of San Diego and 
San Francisco." It was a strange meeting and I could never for the 
life of me think how it came about, until one day, long after, it came 
to me. It happened that I was visiting the New York Press Qub, and 
my old time friend Fred Sonthimeir is the steward of the Press Club, 
and also president of the Stewards' Benevolent Association, and I told 
him of my leaving for the coast, and he told Chief Steward Byrne, 
and the chief did the rest. So it goes to show that this world is very 
small after all. 

I would like if I could at this time write of some of good old 
Captain Gastling's police records, for they are highly interesting and 

Former Police Commissioner Hon. Rhinelander Waldo retired from 
the United States Army with the rank of Major, was police commis- 
sioner for 1912-1913, and a hard time of it he was given by the crime- 



Courtesy of Folic u -Ma 


Deputy Chief Inspector and Police Commissioner, in Berlin, 1924. 

Former Police Commissioner. 

Deputy Chief Inspector. 

Deputy Chief Inspector. 



sters, but he too beat them to it. The Colonel made a report to the 
Mayor, for 1912, and in his report he recommended the following: 
That the members of the police department should be retired on their 
own application, after twenty-five years of service. This I thought was 
one of the best recommendations by a police commissioner ever made, 
but while it was not carried out then, it was never lost sight of, and 
thanks to our present police commissioner, who was a member of the 
Waldo administration, it was passed and became a law in the spring 
of 1919. Another wonderful suggestion was also put forward by 
Police Commissioner Waldo, and it too is in working order. I speak 
of the present overcoats with pockets so a fellow may get or keep his 
hands warm. From an old policeman's point of view I think that that 
was the most humane suggestion ever put forward by man, as I re- 
member many a cold night with the mercury down to zero, my hands 
and feet would get so cold trying the locks on doors and cellerways 
that all h— could not get them warm in the darned make-up of the 
coats we were then wearing. That was a queer predicament for a man 
to be in, in case of a crime being committed, — your hands freezing, — it 
was impossible to get to or hold your revolver, and what a fine target 
one would make for the crimester. 

Under the Waldo administration there were a number of important 
cases. I remember the Forshey double murder case, the Herman 
Rosenthal murder case, the twenty-five thousand dollar taxi robbery 
case, with the arrests and convictions of all. Many of these very clever 
arrests were made by ex-Captain Dominick Reilly and his cousin 
Gustavus Reilly. But the following cases Captain Reilly handled and 
made good : The Rosenthal case, which was nothing more or less than 
a gambler's fight when they ought to have been left alone so that they 
could kill each other, instead of dragging innocent men and boys to 
the electric chair at Sing Sing. Dominick Reilly arrested all of the 
boys connected in the case, cleaning up the case in good shape. DominicK 
also arrested Gene Montana, and sent him to Sing Sing for eighteen 
years for the taxi robbery of twenty-five thousand dollars. He also 
made the arrests for the murder of two unfortunate policemen — Officer 
Charley Teare, a fine young man that worked with me in the old second 
precinct in 1923 and a fine young fellow. Officer Heaney. They were 
murdered on a Sunday afternoon, and it did not take Dominick Reilly 
long to make the arrest of an Italian named Orreste Shillitow. He 
did not let go of this fellow until he landed him in the chair in Sing 
Sing. I only write of three of the bookful of cases that Dominick 
Reilly worked up, making arrests and convictions for all. 

There were two very wise men in the administration of that time, 
and they gave Dominick Reilly all the assistance they could, but aboy^ 


all they gave him a free rein. I speak of Deputy Police Commissioners 
George Dougherty and William J. Flynn. Gee, but can you beat that 
trio, Dougherty, Flynn and Reilly? You can go tell the world that 
Inspector Tom Byrnes had nothing on that bunch. Captain Dominick 
Reilly was one of a class of eleven great students, among them Police 
Commissioner Enright, and they were all appointed by the late Colonel 
Roosevelt, when Police Commissioner, on the 13th day of August, 
1906. Dominick Reilly was a born detective, being born right here in 
little old New York, and the fact of his constant snifting around the 
docks for news made him a wonderful detective. I wish I could 
write more of Captain Dominick Reilly and his wonderful police record. 
Receiving honorable mentions and commendations from several com- 
missioners, he is now doing well running one of the biggest detective 
agencies in all New York, and we often chat about the good old days. 

Gustavus or Gus Reilly, as we all know him, was another clever 
young detective, and a cousin to Captain Dominick, a chip of the old 
block. Gus Reilly also built up for himself a wonderful record before 
retiring to go into this big profitable detective agency business. They 
were two very fine young fellows, always willing to help one when help 
was needed, so they ought to get along. I wish them well. 

Gustavus J. Reilly was appointed to the police force May 1, 1901, 
and retired January 1, 1917. While attached to the Harlem branch 
of the detective bureau for eight years he made many important arrests 
among which were the following : Three men charged with the murder 
of Miss Margaret Meeher, housekeeper for a Dr. De Mott Cannon of 
121 West 122nd Street, New York City, and like his cousin he proved 
to be a very slick and enterprising young fellow and he too made good. 
His next arrest was that of a notorious sneak thief for shooting a 
young woman in a Harlem flat house. The fellow was a fast running 
colored man, and he gave Gus Reilly quite a chase, but Gus, being an 
old-time champion sprinter, soon got Mr. Coon, bagging him for keeps. 
He also arrested three men for burglary in a Harlem apartment house, 
and like in all of his many cases he sent them to Sing Sing for a 
number of years. He next arrested a very clever forger, but he had to 
follow this fellow from city to city before getting the drop on him, but 
Gus got the drop on him all right and sent him up the river to join the 

On anotlier occasion he arrested four men, taking them from a 
bread line on Broadway. They had robbed a firm facing this bread 
line. They were convicted and sent to Sing Sing for a long term of 
years. He chased and caught two men who had robbed the house of 
Dr. B. Walden Hamilton of No. 250 West 75th Street, but before 
catching these two desperadoes they opened fire on him, but he beat 


them to it, convicting the two and sending them also to state's prison 
for twenty years. And so runs the record of Gus Reilly; it would 
take a long while to write up the whole of this young man's important 
and clever arrests. 

May 24, 1883, the first bridge to span the East River, Brooklyn 
Bridge, was opened to the public. There was a panic and several lives 

October 24, 1886, Bartholdi's Statue of Liberty was unveiled. 

1895, Westchester, East Chester, Pelham and Wakefield were 

January 1, 1898, the City of Brooklyn, Staten Island, and Queens 
became a part of the city of Greater New York. 

Fritz Meyer was electrocuted May 21, 1900, for the murder of 
Officer Smith. He fired the shot killing Smith when found burglarizing 
the R. C. Church on East 3d Street, New York City. 

May 24, 1900, the first excavation was made in front of the City 
Hall for the first subway, opened for operation October 27, 1904. 

The great Tarrant fire and explosion took place at Greenwich and 
Warren Streets with a great loss of Hfe October 29, 1900. 

December 19, 1903, the Williamsburg Bridge opened. 

February 23, 1907, the first shaft was sunk for the Catskill Water 
works, the Bronx receiving its first supply December 27, 1907. 

1908, the first Hudson River tunnels were opened to the public. 

May 30, 1909, the Qneensboro Bridge was opened to the public. 

May 1, 1915, the City adopted a new official flag. 

July 31, 1915, Lieutenant Charles Becker of the New York police 
was electrocuted for the murder of a gambler, Herman Rosenthal. 
But this, to my mind, was the crime committed by others, not by 

November 7, 1918, the most spectacular scene of spontaneous re- 
joicing in the City's history occurred on receipt of a false report stating 
that Germany had signed an armistice ending the world's great war, but 
as a matter of fact the armistice proper was signed November 11, 1918. 

Colonel Roosevelt died January 6, 1919. President Warren Hard- 
ing October, 1923. Ex-President Woodrow Wilson, he of the lion 
heart, died February 3, 1924. 

The area of the city today is about three hundred and twenty square 
miles, and its water front five hundred and seventy-eight miles, and 
there are about 4,700 miles of streets laid out. The assessed valuation 
of real estate is $10,972,985,114, and of personal estate $219,222,195, 
and the budget for 1924 is $375,468,000.08, and out of this the city is 


allowed $344,226,157.13. All counties, $10,907,436.41, state tax, $20,- 
294,406.54. A wonderful City is little old New York. 

Before closing this chapter, I wish to draw the attention of my 
readers to several of the most interesting changes that have taken place 
in the police force in the past few years. The first, and to my mind the 
most interesting one, is the change of hours, yes the slavery days of 
the old policemen have been changed, and the policemen of today are 
blessed with the thought that they may spend a few happy hours with 
their loved ones, not like the writer of this work, and the others of my 
time. Our life was spent protecting the wives and families of the 
people, both the taxpayers and others. And when kind fortune per- 
mitted us to retire, thinking that we could then give to our wives and 
families our time and protection, the hand of God was laid upon our 
loved ones and they were removed from our midst, hence we are now 
forced to prod along in misery and lonesomeness, almost to the extent 
of suicide. 

But thank God all of this cruelty, thanks to Commissioner Enright, 
hast been abolished, and the ten platoons was given to the department 
for that particular purpose, and our old two platoons has gone forever. 
Of course there are times of emergency, and the howling of some sore 
heads of a "Crime wave," when, to satisfy this howling rabble, the 
commissioner is forced to go back to the nine platoon or squad system, 
but not for long. As a rule it comes just before Christmas, every 
year, when men are hungry, and the ne'er-do-wells come flocking into 
New York, knowing of the charity and kindness of our citizens, so 
that in all fairness to your Commissioner, I ask the men of the de- 
partment not to blame him, but to be patient. 

There is another pleasing change, and that is the increase of salary 
which is a wonderful change, for when one touches a man's or a 
woman's pocket he touches their hearts, and I for one of the many 
thousands of good people of this great city congratulate the policemen 
of today on their increase, and I wish to them and to their families, 
and in fact to every member of your great city administration, "a 


I congratulate the members of the many protective and benevolent 
associations alive today, for it is mainly to these organizations and their 
undivided strength, with the assistance of your Police Commissioner that 
this increase of salary was granted, "for in unity there is strength." 


The Police Department of the City of New York, January, 
1924, Giving an Account of Its Standing and Doings in the 
Matter of the Bootlegging Violations and the "West End 
Bank" Murder Case 

In January, 1924, the police department of the city of New York 
consisted of eleven thousand six hundred and thirteen persons of all 
ranks ; this is the quota allowed by the board of estimates. This in- 
cludes one hundred and thirty-four men of the detective division de- 
tailed as first-grade men, two hundred detailed as second-grade men, 
fifty men detailed in the health department, five men detailed in the 
tenement house department, and over five hundred men on traffic, doing 
the work of a thousand men. For it is a well known fact that the 
traffic problem is today the most serious in this great city, our ever- 
increasing population ; motor cars that are killing off more people than 
were killed in the Civil War, and the worst feature of it is, that they 
are here to stay. They are built and run for the comfort of the rich 
and the killing of the poor, and a sure means of a getaway for the 
murderers and other crimesters left to us as a legacy from that cursed 
late World's War. Here we are the richest, the cleanest, and the most 
hospitable country under God's sun, and yet we are menaced by those 
infernal mankillers. When, oh, Lord, when, shall we ever get some 
relief from this murderous throng? 

You of my readers who have traveled far from home know full 
well the happy, wholesome greeting one receives from the first view of 
that beautiful guiding star of the bay of New York, our "Statue of 
Liberty," and yet one is but a short time home when, for the lack of 
police guardians, he or she is knocked down and either killed or maimed 
for life. 

The great city of London, with a population of approximately seven 
million souls, with about four per cent unable to speak the English 
language, is protected by a force of twenty-five thousand policemen, 
and here we are with a population of six million souls representing 
every known and unknown country in the world, many among whom 
are murderers, and all that this rich city can allow to protect it is less 
than twelve thousand policemen. 

Let me ask you, my dear readers, is it not a crime against humanity 



not to allow the city of New York more police protectors, so that our 
men, women, and children will be safeguarded from the hands of the 
assassin, or the wheels of those badly managed motor cars, many of 
which are run by murderers and scoundrels that if they were given their 
just dues would be in Sing Sing. A word to the wise, protect your 
citizen, and your citizen will protect you. 

The quarterly statement presented to our mayor by Police Com- 
missioner Richard E. Enright is very fine reading. Here are a few 
extracts. In the first place crime is waning, there has been a four 
per cent decrease in major offenses in 1923, in spite of the fact that" a 
few miserable rascals are running wild shouting crime wave, crime 
wave. They haven't the common sense to know that they are doing 
New York so much harm in the matter of keeping good visitors from 
other countries and states to visit us, for when they read of all this 
crime stuff, they are afraid to land here for fear of being held up. So 
to keep out of trouble they go and hang out with the bootleggers out- 
side the three or twelve mile limit. The report goes on to say that 
while there has been an alarming increase in motor cars, or to be 
right (Man-Killing Cars), an increase of forty-five thousand six hun- 
dred and sixty-nine cars, there has been an alarming falling off in the 
death rate, many thanks to Police Commissioner Enright, assisted by 
Deputy Commissioner John Harriss, and the hard-working men of the 
traffic squad of New York City and the safety squad under Barron 
Collier and Lieutenant M, Noonan. There are many other fine details 
to be read in this statement but I will just speak of the two principal 
items. So you see my friends that the police department is more 
than making good, even though we do read now and again of a judge 
who will make a ruling that a certain nickel in the slot machine is not 
a game of chance or gambling. 

We have been very unfortunate in having our policemen shot down 
by the gunman and crook, to quote the words of one of our grand 
board of magistrates, who stated from the bench a few weeks ago, 
when a gunman charged with murder was placed before this old-time 
lawyer and magistrate, and a lawyer of note thirty years ago, having 
defended a man charged with one of the most diabolical crimes ever 
committed. I simply refer to this case to show to my readers that 
Magistrate Fred House knew what he was talking about when in 
addressing the prisoner before him, he said, 'T am sorry for this man 
you killed. If the Grand Jury had done the right thing, you would 
have been indicted last month." 

January, 1924, the greatest shake-up in the history of the police 
department has just been ordered by Police Commissioner Enright. 
By ordering charges preferred against thirteen inspectors, whom it is 


claimed have not done their full duty. They are all good men and have 
a pretty fair chance of proving their innocence. I hold no brief for 
Commissioner Enright, but I do know that he is not one of those men 
that is forever looking to make complaints, but when certain trouble 
makers continue to abuse our commissioner and the department, then 
he has to fight back. 

I will quote the words of that grand old policeman with a splendid 
record of over thirty years' service, and whom no man can dare point 
the finger of scorn at. I speak of Second Deputy Police Commissioner 
John Daly, whom the writer of this work worked under some thirty 
years ago, and a better superior officer could not be found. It was 
a simple case of do your duty and have clear sailing and nothing to 
fear. The remarks spoken of are as follows, to wit: "There will 
be no real enforcement of prohibition," he said, "until the United States 
courts can arrange for prompt trials for offenders against the Volstead 
Act, and those convicted can be sentenced to jail rather than to pay 
fines, which in view of the profits of the business are merely nominal, 
no matter what the amount of money." Deputy Commissioner Daly is 
in charge of the boroughs of Brooklyn and Queens, and used his ex- 
perience in administering the police affairs of the two boroughs to 
illustrate his point, "In the two boroughs," he said, "there were six 
hundred and fifty-four arrests for the violation of the Volstead Act 
in the month of December. That is the largest number of arrests by 
city or federal authorities in this area in any one month since the 
Volstead Act became effective. Now nearly all of these arrests, nearly 
twenty a day, were made by members of the staffs of the six New 
York police inspectors in command of the districts in which the boroughs 
are subdivided. A few were made by the members of the special 
service squads sent from headquarters to do the work that inspectors 
neglect to do or are unable to do. 

"United States prohibition enforcement agents made but ten of those 
arrests. If the court procedure continues to be the same as it has been 
up to now these accused violators of the law will not be brought to 
trial for months. If convicted they will be let off with fines. Liquor 
law violations are no more prevalent in New York than the selling of 
policy slips was twenty years ago. It presents no more difficulty as a 
police problem than did that particular insidious form of gambling. 
The Legislature gave us a law with teeth in it to stop policy playing. 
The police enforced that law. The courts took up the cases promptly 
and the courts sentenced convicted offenders to jail. We have no more 
policy. If the United States will furnish more courts and more 
attorneys, and if the judges will make bootlegging a crime which cannot 


be violated with impunity by those willing to pay tribute in the form 
of a fine, then we will hear no more of bootleggers." 

My dear readers, a statement coming from a man of John Daly's 
experience must be taken seriously and respected, at least I think so 
from my own knowledge of the past and present. The Police Com- 
missioner is doing all that a man can do to stamp out this serious 
crime of bootlegging by the hungry booze hounds, then why abuse 
him, unless he is stepping on your own toes? But it makes no difference 
to Commissioner Enright, whose toes he may step on, he is going to do 
all he and his office can do to clean up those bootleggers, and with that 
one thought foremost on his mind, the guilty must suffer. 

Commissioner Enright and his administration is known for break- 
ing all records, when one takes into consideration the fact that the 
commissioner is in his seventh year of service as police commissioner, 
and has made more appointments, promotions and demotions and has 
saved more money for the city than any other man who ever did, or 

The closing up of so many station houses that were not needed saved 
over a million dollars, and the many improvements brought about by 
our police commissioner and staff has gone far to revolutionize the 
police departments the world over, so let us give justice where justice 
is due. 

Commissioner Enright went so far as to enlarge the special service 
squad under the able command of that fearless police official Deputy 
Chief Inspector Samuel G. Belton, by transferring some three hundred 
and fifty men for the good of the service, many of whom were formerly 
on the staff of the inspectors now on trial. The Police Commissioner 
increased the command of Chief Belton by transferring' some two 
hundred and fifty men to that division, and installing them in the old 
sixth precinct station house, which will be known as the headquarters of 
the special service division. But it must not be lost sight of that the 
Commissioner also maintains a private investigation squad of his own 
under the command of Lieutenant Fred Cruise for the sole purpose of 
checking up the doings of other squads and commands; so you see 
there is not much that can get away from the Commissioner, or if 
there is a little thing now and then passed up, then some one will have 
to show cause forthwith. 

Chief Belton and his enlarged staff started right in by making a 
raid on a Bowery gambling house and arresting sixty-five persons on 
suspicion of gambling, so that if the chief don't get them right, he will 
put the fear of God in their hearts, and they will quit the game. But 
they cannot do that unless, as Deputy Police Commissioner John Daly 
said, tliey have the aid and assistance of our judges, who it is hoped 


will give a few jail sentences, and the violators of the law will very- 
soon stop, or they will find it so hot for them in New York that they 
will be given a forced exile, or, like Manny Kesstler and his pals go 
up the river for a few years, we then may have a clean city of New 

But I cannot help saying to h — 1 with this prohibition form of 
drying up our beloved country, and taking away our rights and free- 
dom, and the making of trouble for every member of our police force, 
from the commissioner down to the man on the sidewalk. So long as 
the bootleggers have a three mile or even a twelve mile limit, they will 
take a long chance to get rich by smuggling into port most every brand 
of good and bad liquor, and then our police are held responsible. By 
and by we will have men coming up to us giving us twenty-five or 
more thousands of dollars and this all without a receipt. It is now 
New Year's Eve and let us pray that the coming year of 1925 will 
bring to us all good health, wealth, and happiness, less crime, and an 
earnest desire to see the world become once more normal, with peace 
and contentment the world over. Nineteen twenty four was not so 
bad when one takes into consideration the many increases of salary 
allowed by the Legislature and departments of city and state. I will 
mention a few. 

The Legislature passed an act increasing the salary of the mayor 
and comptroller, from fifteen to twenty-five thousand dollars per 
year, and the mayor approved of this act, and it became law. The 
Legislature also passed an act giving to the New York police veterans 
an increase of pension, the grand old men that slaved night and day to 
bring about the happy results of today in this grand old city, who are 
at this time living from hand to mouth on the pension allowed at the 
time of their retirement, namely twelve or fourteen hundred per year, 
they retiring on the half of same, what can a person do at this time 
on six or seven hundred dollars a year? Well, Mayor Hylan, after 
holding a hearing on this bill, sent same back to the Legislature dis- 
approved, hence this measure did not become a law. 

The Legislature assisted by the good people also gave our hard 
working public servants, namely the police and firemen, a salary increase 
from twenty-two hundred and eighty to twenty-five hundred dollars 
per year; this was badly needed. Now comes the board of aldermen. 
The board of estimates allowed them a raise in pay from three to five 
thousand dollars per year, allowing same on December 21, 1923, a 
Christmas present. More power to them. 

All power to our crime hunters, finger print exports, and Detective 
Jim McCoy, who cleared up the Shattuck case. Besides cleaning up in 


the West End Bank case, they again are before the public receiving the 
good-will and praise of all for the wonderful display of detective ability 
in rounding up and arresting the murderer of Estelle Philips in a 
rooming house at 49 West 97th Street, New York City, October 11, 
1923, Captain Arthur Carey, Lieutenant Dan Carey as an acting 
captain, and Lieutenant Bill Roddy, of the detective bureau, did wonder- 
ful work in tracing and arresting this self-confessed scoundrel and 
vile murderer, Frank R. Benner. It is to be hoped that the jury 
impaneled to try this rascal will do its duty much better than did 
several juries of late, namely in the murder cases of Kid Dropper, 
the notorious gunman leader of the east side by Cohen, another mem- 
ber of that notorious gang ; also in the murder case of Alonzo Storey 
by the Vetters in Glendale, L. I., May 11, 1923. 

If the jurors would pay more attention to the summing up of the 
learned judges in those cases, these vile murderers would receive their 
just dues, the "electric chair," instead of imprisonment for a term of 
years, giving them the opportunity of returning and committing other 
crimes. Louis Kushner, or Cohen, being sentenced to life imprison- 
ment, which means about eighteen years, and the Vetters to eight 
years, was a shame that such should be the case. After the police de- 
partment, to a man, working day and night to clean up in cases of the 
like, and presenting a clean case to the district attorney of the county, 
and he and his office working hard preparing an indictment in the 
case to present to the grand jury, and after that body comes in with an 
indictment of murder in the first degree, these jurors, thinking that 
they are more fitted to judge a crime than are these learned men of 
the bench and bar, change an indictment for murder in the first degree 
into an indictment of manslaughter, and in many cases with a recom- 
mendation to mercy. Why that is an outrage, yes a travesty of justice, 
and I would suggest for the future that a jury picked to try such cases 
be men of character, of ability, both strong and fearless, who are 
willing to die to uphold the hands of justice, and not to mock justice, 
leaving the criminal courts of America a laughing-stock for the civilized 

We have law and we have justice here in America, just as good 
as any nation of the world, so let us put them to work, and work 

There is another matter that it would be well to take notice of, and 
that is the newspapers of this great city. Of course our reporters 
have to write about something to make a living, but it is up to the 
editorial staff of any paper to cut down any story that is going to help 
a criminal to make his getaway. Thus the detective division is handi- 
capped by receiving false clews and following every one up causing 


expense and loss of time to the police department and delaying justice. 

Police Commissioner Enright was to my mind within his rights 
when the order was issued forbidding newspaper reporters the free use 
of police headquarters to obtain first-hand information of crime, so that 
they could rush the same to their papers to satisfy the hunger of the 
scandalmongers, forgetting that the criminal also reads, and is benefited 
by such news, for he learns all that is being done or is to be done by 
the detectives in the case or cases. Just take the case of Detective Joe 
Petrosino who was ordered to go to Italy to arrest a notorious mem- 
ber of the "Mafia or Blackhand," The Bingham administration made 
many mistakes causing the squandering of the police department funds, 
but this was the worst case in history. The sending of this good 
policeman to his doom was a crime against humanity, robbing a wife 
of a good husband, and several children of a good father; but who 
cares ? Joe Petrosino, when ordered to leave on that occasion, said that 
the sending of him to Europe was the signing of his death warrant, 
but to that, like to many other questions, they turned a deaf ear, and 
the good soldier policeman went to his doom, for the order was not 
dry on the paper that it was written upon, when it was flashed broad- 
cast in all newspapers that Detective Sergeant Joseph Petrosino was 
ordered by Bingham to leave for Italy at once to bring back a member 
of the Blackhand, wanted for murder. 

Bingham was blamed for the order, but as a matter of fact General 
Bingham knew nothing about the case until notified that Petrosino had 
been murdered while leaving a restaurant in Italy. Only a few short 
weeks ago, in fact every now and then one reads in our newspapers 
that Detective Sergeant so-so is ordered to Italy to bring back this 
one or that one wanted for murder. Is it right for such news to be 
given to the public ? Think it over, dear readers ; I have no grievance, 
but it should not be. 

I am again presenting to you my friends for your information and 
guidance a brief account of another one of those big things put over 
on us by Police Commissioner Enright. Determined to put an end 
to this bootlegging scandal for once and all, he ordered eight hundred 
and fifty men of the detective division to report to him in the trial room 
of police headquarters at ten a.m., February 9, 1924. After reading to 
them, one and all, the riot act, he said, "I want you men to do proper 
police duty, or if you don't then many of you will be out of a job, or 
out of a detail. This question of bootlegging in this city must and will 
be put out of business, and it is up to you to do police duty or quit the 
job." Fortunately for some, and unfortunately for others, the Com- 
missioner demoted and promoted a number of these good fellows, and 
while it is a handsome New Year's gift to those promoted to a position 


of importance, this taking with it an increase of eight hundred dollars 
a year, it is mighty hard on the other poor unfortunates who, perhaps 
through no fault of theirs, are caused to lose their positions and in- 
creased salary, and, worse than all, having to don a uniform and go out 
on patrol on a cold frosty night in the middle of February. But that 
is the fortunes of war, police duty must be done, and if one man don't 
do it, then there are thousands looking for his place. 

Certain people in this big town of ours are constantly shouting 
bootlegging is going on, and the police commissioner is a bootlegger, 
and while our Commissioner is an easy-going, happy-go-lucky fellow, 
nevertheless here he is with his war paint on to prove to the world that 
those scandalmongers are liars. And our Commissioner is strongly 
fortified with letters of congratulations from the officials having in 
charge the question of prohibition enforcement, for the assistance given 
them by the Commissioner of Police and the men of his department. 
This infernal prohibition question has brought more misfortune and 
drunkenness and loss of millions to our treasury and our country than 
any other question ever introduced, and while I am no prophet, those 
that are responsible will some day, sooner or later, suffer. One of them 
is now on his way to a place where they are not giving money away 
for nothing. One year later, January, 1925. 

The police department of this great city of six millions consists 
of twelve thousand men of all ranks and station, or about one man 
to every fifty-six of the population ; not enough by any means, moreover 
in these days of lawlessness and crime, since that cursed World's War. 

The fire department consists of six thousand seven hundred men of 
all rank and station, so you see our brave fire laddies are also working 
short-handed. I will ask our fair-minded citizens just one question, Is 
it not much better that your city and yourself and families be better 
protected than that our good money should be spent on other unneces- 
sary matters ? But please do not misunderstand me ; I do not mean 
by that remark that our city funds are being squandered. No, no, you 
may pick your own meaning. 

Our great street cleaning department is another big factor to con- 
tend with. We must have clean streets, our ashes and garbage must 
be removed, so to do those things you must at all times have the men. 

Our police force has never been known to fail a call to duty, it 
makes no difference should it be life or death, it would cheerfully re- 
spond. Your police department from the very beginning has never 
been known to turn back, but forever going onward to protect our life 
and property, and if needs be to do that, it will sacrifice its own sweet 
life and die as others have done before, "faithful unto death." 


The same may be said of our fire eaters, you know their history. 
Also our street cleaners, they too sacrifice a life very often in the 
discharge of their duty, so let us be human and deal with our public 
servants as we would have the world deal with us, fair and square; 
be on the level with yourself and your fellow man, and God will be on 
the level with you. 

Our parks are a credit to us, yes, the talk of the world, covering an 
area of approximately four thousand five hundred acres, and they too 
must be attended to. The area of the city today is about three hundred 
and eighteen square miles. 

New York can boast of the greatest free school system to be found 
the world over, thanks to our great Mayor Hon. John F. Hylan, for 
we have on January 1, 1925 840 school buildings, 29,627 teachers 
and supervisors, to look after the education of 962,564 pupils now 
in attendance. 

We also can boast of the greatest Catholic school system to be 
found in any part of the world, where our children are learned to love 
and serve God, become good Americans, and good God-fearing Chris- 
tians, under the supervision of his Eminence Patrick Cardinal Hayes, 
a protege of little old New York. 



Telling the Old Old Story of the Police Department, Its 
Trials and Tribulations, Its Commissioners Abused and Re- 
moved, AND Some Reinstated Away Back in the Good Old 
Days, and While They Were Not Annoyed by Bootleggers, 
as We Are Today, the So-Called Reformers Were Always 
on the Job, Making Trouble at Every Turn with Dear Old 
New York the Victim All the Time; Also Some Important 
News of the Day 

The police department has at all times been a football for every 
Tom, Dick, and Harry to kick around, when you look back forty 
years to the days of the four-headed commission, composed of such men 
as Steve French, John McClave, Jimmy Martin, Charles F. McLean 
who was such a thorn in the side of some people that they took him 
from the police board and sent him to the supreme court, and having 
served his term, died in 1923, and we go down the line to John 
R. Voorhis, a pensioner of the city of New York, who has been 
holding office since 1875, and is still on the job at the great age of 
ninety-six. I guess John will never die, or if he does the city will have 
to die with him. Most of us today are waiting to fill dead men's shoes, 
but God help the one that is waiting to fill the shoes of old man Voor- 
his, he will have time to go back and fight the Civil War over again, 
but believe me, that when Mr. Voorhis does get to wherever he is 
going, he will get it for overstaying his time. 

And now we come to the stormy days of Roosevelt, Grant, Parker, 
and Andrews, they too had their troubles. Teddy Roosevelt so dis- 
gusted that he went to Washington, and Frank Moss, the mouthpiece 
of Dr. Parkhurst, came into the board. And so on to the appointment 
of Colonel Michael C. Murphy and Bill Devery, all troublesome times 
and on to the reign of Colonel Rhinelander Waldo, and Douglas I. 
McKay. They were the toughest times old New York has seen since 
the days of the Knownothings and Dead Rabbits of the early fifties — 
what with the Rosenthal murder, the killing of poor innocent Becker, 
Gyp the blood, and others, and allowing the principals to run scot free, 
gee these times were so tough that they killed one of tlie toughest men 



New York ever raised, the late Mayor Gaynor, for when he started 
flirting with the Tammany Tiger, then something had to go, and away 
went Willy Gaynor. 

I call your attention to another case of history repeating itself. 
Under Mayor Kline the successor to Mayor Gaynor, they were trying 
to put something over on Commissioner Waldo, but he said nit, got 
out, and was succeeded by Commissioner Douglas I. McKay, and here 
we are again in the administration of Police Commissioner Richard E. 
Enright from 1918 to 1925. In comes Douglas I. McKay as a Special 
Deputy Police Commissioner, and after some time McKay goes out and 
Colonel Waldo takes his place. And later Col. Waldo resigns and 
Douglas I. McKay succeeds. Gee, but Dick Enright is a wonder, he 
can get them all on his staff, and he yet has time to annex General 
Bingham and Colonel Woods to his staff, all good fellows, then he 
will have completed the job. Here are some of those old timers that 
he has had on his staff, at one time or another : George Dougherty, 
Douglas McKay, Colonel Waldo, Chief John McCullugh, Chief Wil- 
liam S. Devery, Chief Adam A. Cross, and there are a few more 
that Commissioner Enright will yet corral. 

Now we arrive at George B. McClelland's time as mayor, 1905, 
when we had gracing the commissioner's chair that grand old man, 
the present Chief Magistrate, William McAdoo, supported by the Hon. 
Thomas F. McAvoy, and in that same year General Bingham hinged 
in and Mr. McAdoo hinged out. 

We have had a lot of jumping-jacks appointed Commissioners, 
Bugher, Cropsey, Baker, in today, and out tomorrow, since General 
Bingham gave up the job, until we came to Mayor Mitchel, and 
Colonel Arthur Woods, a darn good man, but easily led, at least it 
looked that way in the case of our own Dick, for while Lieutenant En- 
right was first on the eligible list for Captain, yes on top of two lists, 
he was good enough to be given charge of a precinct as an acting 
captain, but not good enough to be given the justice which was his, 
promotion to captaincy, oh, no, but after all is said and done Commis- 
sioner Woods was not to blame, it was the bigger boss in City Hall. 
And now we come to the one and only one, that wonderful smiling 
Dick, who the more he is pounded the handsomer he gets and the 
broader his smiles, always with an outstretched hand to greet even his 
enemies. I will quote a few remarks made by Commissioner Enright, 
and the same applies to all that ever held the office, and here they are. 

"My Dear John, 

"Thanks very much for your kindness in congratulating me on my sixth year 
in the office of Pohce Commissioner. Ever since the days and nights that I 
broke in with you on Cherry Hill some twenty-eight years ago, I have been 


traveling a pretty hard old road, yes just as hard as that famous old rocky 
road to Dublin. Six years in this difficult post is a long time, considering the 
average time of other commissioners, my predecessors. The Police Commis- 
sioner works in a boiler shop. The noise is terrific — most everybody hammers 
and hollers and very few help. However, there is some compensation in holding 
the fort and doing the best one can as a matter of everyday business." 

This is but one of many quotations received, each one of which is 
plain fact; I don't have to quote any more, this one will suffice. 

Commissioner Enright is certainly working hard to give New York 
the greatest detective division in the world, and with that thought in 
view he ordered a school of detectives, and he permitted every patrol- 
man who thought that he could make good as a "Sherlock Holmes" a 
chance to go to school, and if he could pass the test of three experts, 
and finally passed upon by the commissioner himself, and marked 
O.K., he was promoted to the detective bureau fortwith, without any 
political assistance whatever. In the past five months the commissioner 
has transferred one hundred and six so-called old detectives, many 
having been attached to the bureau so long that they had an idea they 
owned it; but out on patrol they went, and the man from ofif the 
sidewalk took his place. Gee, but that reads like an Aladdin's dream 
to us old timers. Just imagine a police commissioner of the past going 
among the coppers on the walk to pick up for promotion he of them 
that deserved promotion. Not on your tintype, for if it was whispered 
around at all that you were looking for promotion, then you would 
have "Cris O'Donald" down on post to see you, to see how much you 
will give to get the job. I speak from experience, and that's the 
world's best teacher. 

I made three attempts for promotion in my time on the force. The 
first time I was called to police headquarters and among. other things 
asked was, "how long have you been on the force, officer?" I an- 
swered, "thirteen years." "Oh, then you must have saved quite a little 
money in that time." "No, Sir," I answered. "I am supporting a 
stable of two-year-olds." "Two-year-olds? Why, where do you live. 
Officer?" "Sheepshead Bay," I answered. "Then you are a racing 
man ?" "Yes, Sir, I am a racing man dealing with the human race. I 
have eight children to support and they consume all of my time and 
money." The next question was, "Where did you get your education, 
Officer." "At a Catholic school, Sir, in the old country." "Who 
appointed you on the force, Officer." "The Hon. Police Commissioner 
James J. Martin," I answered and that was too strong for this same 
police commissioner, it smelled too much like Tammany. Tammany, 
always ahead in every race. "You report back to your precinct officer," 
and that was all that I ever heard of that effort to promote myself. 
But on leaving the commissioner's office, we candidates as a rule, 

Chief Police Surgeon. 

Deputy Chief Police Surgeon. 

Police Chaplain. 

Police Chaplain. 




I guess some of my readers have been there, would wait and con- 
gratulate or sympathize with each other, and one of these same men, 
from the same precinct as myself, said, "How did you make out, 
John." "Oh," says I, "you know very well how I made out. I knew 
full well the moment the Commissioner started putting those questions 
to me that I was a dead cock in the pit. He had gotten through with 
all of you High Financiers, and he had no time for my ten cent 
limit." "Now you said it, Hickey old man, you got to have the sugar. 
I have it and I am going to give it up, you got to do it." "Yes," says I, 
"we poor boobs trying to raise our family stands a h — 1 of a chance, 
when you ducks are running around with your first dollar in your 
pockets." Was I right or was I wrong, I am asking you old policemen? 

On my third attempt to make the list of 1904 I succeeded, but two or 
three days before the list came out "Cris O'Donnell" came to me 
while patrolling West Street and said, "John Hickey, I want to con- 
gratulate you. Your name is going on the eligible list that is to be 
published next Wednesday, but it will be away down the list." "Well," 
I answered, "I did not expect it to go on the top of the list with all of 
those moneyed men and collegians that I had to compete with." "Now, 
see here, John, can you raise two hundred bucks by Tuesday night and 
I promise you that your name will be among the first one hundred and 
fifty." I answered, "No, there isn't a chance. I am neck and heels in 
debt now, my wife being sick, and having to move her down to Sheeps- 
head Bay, and pay doctor's bills, I am sick at heart." "Oh, go and 
see your friend Sheeny Marks, he will help you." Marks is a money 
lender, and he had me hooked up, hook, line, and sinker, so far gone 
that I thought that I would have to sell myself to the devil to get him 

That is what we old cops were up against. But what's the use, it's 
all over now, but just see and think what I lost in not getting this 
two hundred bucks, which after all was cheap. Here I would have 
been promoted and transferred to some far-off precinct, and not get 
mixed up in that darned old case of naturalization, in after years, that 
cost me a thousand bucks to fee lawyers, and pay other expenses, that 
were accumulating fast, and in the end to lose by death my beautiful 
Irish wife, the mother of my family. 

I forgot to state that this man, Cris O'Donnell, as I call him, was 
not a member of the Police Department, but retired from another de- 
partment of the city government, and when he told me of the men that 
he made and had promoted, well I near dropped dead, because I myself 
was interested in the promotion of one in the report that I had made 
at the time. But what's the use, the big fellow that told me that he 
would pay for his promotion was raised to a high position and was dis- 


missed from the force. But thank God with all of my trouble I was 
never dismissed from the force ; I am like the fellow that once said, 
"Gee, I would sooner be shot than be dismissed," but I was never shot. 
In going over my cabinet of police clippings of the past I just came 
across the following. It appears that they were not satisfied at causing 
Police Commissioner Waldo to quit the job, but they wanted to put 
something over on him. But any man that stood by Charlie Becker in 
his trouble is not going to stand for anybody to fixing up his cards ; he 
is too red-blooded for that, and here is what happened. It appears that 
on the City Record of December 31, 1913, a mistaken item was printed 
as follows : 

Hon. Douglas I. McKay presented his warrant of appointment as Police 
Commissioner, to succeed Rhinelander Waldo, removed. 

"This notice," said ex-Commissioner, now Colonel fWaldo, "Is in- 
correct and constitutes a false record; the word 'removed' should be 
'resigned,' in order to constitute a true official record, because I was not 
removed. My term expired and I left the office by resignation." 

Mr. Waldo had sued Mayor Mitchel, and the board of estimate, and 
they appeared before Supreme Court Justice Weeks, and Col. Waldo 
won his case, because he proved to the satisfaction of the court that his 
resignation was in the hands of then Mayor Atiolphus Kline, before the 
expiration of his term of office. 

So we journey along, most of the men I have written about here 
are dead today as was Christmas Eve of 1925, in good old New York, 
and it sure was dead, for as I stood at the Flatiron building looking 
north I could count the number of people on my fingers. This was at 
two A. M. I stood there motionless, thinking back to the good old days 
when New York in that particular spot was happy and cheering, but alas 
the Prohibitionist and the grape juicers have murdered the happiness 
of old New York. 

The taxpayers of the greater city rallied around the banner of Judge 
John F. Hylan, and elected him as our mayor, and he appointed commis- 
sioner of police a man not unknown to the members of the force, for 
Mr. Bugher had been there before, and was well liked by all, but for 
some unknown reason he refused to obey the instructions of the Mayor, 
and was removed. Mayor Hylan then went hunting for a man to rule 
the police force that was a well trained policeman, and one who would 
obey orders, and he went over to Brooklyn and discovered one in an 
outlying precinct, so the mayor called up police headquarters and asked 
to have Lieutenant Dick Enright called up and ordered to report forth- 
with. This is what happened over the telephone : "Hello, Hello, Cen- 
tral give me the Stagg Street Station. Hello, Hello, is this the Stagg 


Street Station house? Yes, sir, with Lieutenant Enright speaking. 
Say, Lieutenant, you are ordered to report to the Mayor's office forth- 
with, and I wish you luck and hope to congratulate you later." 

"Who is this talking please," answered Lieutenant Enright. 

"Why it is Sam B n. 

"Say what are you doing old top, putting one over on me ?" answered 
Lieutenant Enright. 

"No, no, Dick, but I just heard that you are to receive a birthday 
present, so go to it my boy, the mayor is waiting for you, and the gift 
that you are about to receive will startle the world." 

Lieutenant Enright lost no time in getting to the mayor's office 
and meeting Commissioner of Plants and Structures Grover Whalen, 
the secretary to Mayor Hylan, and the late Lieutenant Billy Kennel, the 
mayor's bodyguard, both of whom congratulated Dick Enright, and 
escorted him into the mayor's private office and soon the new police 
commissioner was on his way to police headquarters to take up his new 
duties, and his first order was to send for the chief of police, starting 
him off on a vacation, and appointing Inspector Honest John Daly to 
succeed, and giving this gentleman, the former chief, to understand that 
he must retire at the end of his vacation, and that was the end of that 
slick article. 

Well let us see what else Commissioner Dick Enright did that day. 
Among other things he provided himself with a fine clean-cut cabinet 
of good, well trained policemen in the persons of William J. Lahey, 
John J. Cray, and Joseph Faurot, whom he made deputy police com- 
missioners, and they are in that same position today, 1924, with the 
exception of Deputy Police Commissioner Lahey, becoming police chief, 
and honest John Daly becoming second deputy police commissioner. 
Commissioner Enright then went among the best and brightest business 
men of the city and appointed the best of them special deputy police 
commissioners, without salary, and they have done wonderful work for 
the city, when it most needed the assistance of her sons and daughters. 
It was during the dark days of the great World War, and these men 
made good. '^•■' '';tl-^t 

Police Commissioner Enright first saw the light of day August 30, 
1871, born in Steuben County, New York, and appointed on the force 
by the late Colonel Roosevelt when police commissioner in 1896. 
Young Dick Enright was appointed on probation and assigned to the 
old fourth precinct, 9 Oak Street, Manhattan, and after making good 
as a probationer was appointed patrolman, November 21, 1896, pro- 
moted to roundsman, December 29, 1902, lieutenant, December 7, 1905, 
and police commissioner, January 23, 1918, re-appointed in 1922, and 
is still going strong. Lieutenant Enright was number one on two 


eligible lists, but while he was promoted to the position of acting captain, 
Mayor Mitchel could not see Enright promoted to captain. It seems 
that they were all afraid of the General Bingham bugaboo. 

Well Police Commissioner Enright started right in and he was not 
long in ordering that all old men in the service be given soft details, 
and his old retired friends mustered to his assistance, such men as John 
McCullugh, William S. Devery, Adam A. Cross. Ex-Chief McCullugh 
took sick and died. I will quote the remarks of Commissioner Enright 
at the grave of McCullugh. 

The Commissioner in his address that day said among other things : 
"I am sorry that our dear friend Ex-Chief John McCullugh is not 
with us, for if he were living it would be my proud pleasure to appoint 
him my first deputy." 

But the commissioner did mighty good work in appointing Judge 
Leach his first deputy, as Judge John Leach, a legal light of ability, is 
giving Commissioner Enright great support. Commissioner Enright did 
not stop at appointing the best policemen on his staff, but he also went 
to the outside world to pick men whom he knew could render great as- 
sistance in giving New York the best police administration that was ever 
given, and rightly so. New York is fully deserving of the best, and no 
one knows that better than does our Commissioner. He then appointed 
as special deputy police commissioners without salary several of 
America's greatest financiers and business men, among whom are Rod- 
man Wanamaker, T. Coleman Dupont, Edmond A. Guggenheim, John 
M. Shaw, Dr. Carleton Simon, William Gillespie, Julia M. Loft, 
Douglas I. McKay, Colonel Rhinelander Waldo, Barron Collier, and 
others, an adornment to any organization. 

The Commissioner also promoted to inspectorships men like Deputy 
Chief Thomas Murphy, John O'Brien, Dominick Henry, Samuel G. 
Belton, Cornelius F. Cahalane; Inspectors Thomas H. McDonald, 
George C. Liebers, Thomas J. Kelly, Patrick Cray, James S. Bolan, 
Thomas T. Ryan, William A. Coleman, Charles A. Formoso, John F. 
Sweeney, Edwin H. West, Thomas F. Walsh, Joseph A. Conboy, Byron 
R. Sackett, William A. Bailey, and John W. O'Connor. A body of good 
policemen who have grown old in the service and deserve this promotion 
for faithfulness and ability in the past. The Commissioner also ap- 
pointed Patrick J. Murray, chief surgeon, and Daniel J. Donovan, 
deputy chief police surgeon; also Captain John D. Coughlin, chief of 
the detective division, with Captain Dan Carey; Captain Thomas M. 
Fay (now chief of staff), assistants, all of whom have done remark- 
able detective work here of late, the rounding up of the murderers of 
Barlow and McLoughlin, of the West End Bank of Brooklyn, and it 
must be admitted that this was one of the greatest pieces of detective 


work ever recorded, inside of one month from the date of the murder. 
Captain Coughlin and his staff had under arrest four gunmen among 
whom were the actual murderers that fired the shots killing these two 
unfortunate men. The detectives presented such a mass of clean-cut 
evidence for the district attorney to present to the grand jury, that there 
was nothing else to the finding but a true bill against all the prisoners. 

The district attorney, Mr. Dodd, thanked the detectives and staff 
and in fact the whole police department for the valuable services 
rendered to his office, in this case "in particular, and to many other 
cases in general. 

We have heard and read of the detectives of old and how they ran 
down crimesters, but did you ever before hear of a case of this descrip- 
tion, one so important, and cleaned up in such short order, so that the 
murderers to my mind, that is if money and red tape doesn't prevent 
it, will have been found guilty of this infernal crime, executed, and the 
case forgotten inside of six months from the day of the brutal murders, 
November 14, 1923. 

Here we are in January, 1925, and they still live, awaiting a new 

The writer worked as a patrolman for many years in the old fourth 
precinct of Manhattan, No. 9 Oak Street, with Bill Barlow, sleeping 
in the same section room for fully ten years, but little did I know that 
he was to meet such a terrible death. 

I will quote the remarks of Commissioner Enright at the Jewish 
police memorial services in Mount Neboh Temple, January 6, 1924: 

"New York City has a police department of which reasonable and 
thinking people may well be proud. I think the people are as well 
satisfied with the police department today as they are of any other de- 
partment, whether city, state, or federal. The department is no or- 
ganization of angels or archangels. Placing a uniform on a man does 
not make him that, but the department has a record for service that is 
unequaled anywhere else in the world, though it is smaller pro rata 
of population than the police force of any metropolis of Europe. 

"The New York police department holds a record in that it has 
been one of the few departments of any city in the United States, which 
has not had to call upon the national guard or federal troops in emer- 
gency situations. Neither of these forces have had to be appealed to 
in New York since 1873, and for fifty years the police here have main- 
tained law and order as they have been maintained nowhere else." 

The Commissioner credited to Charles A. Dana, one-time editor of 
The New York Sun, the statement that only those worthy of criticism 
are criticized, and he asserted that the "Police department of this city is 
worthy of being criticised because the public has placed up on our 


shoulders great responsibilities, and because our organization is some- 
times asked to deliver more than is possible. The mistakes of others 
must be borne by us. The mistakes of the lawmakers and of the re- 
formers, in placing on the statute books laws that are in advance of 
public opinion, place the responsibility on us. And when we fail we 
are criticized." Too much was asked. It is not for the police depart- 
ment to reason why laws are passed and put on the books, but it is for 
us "to do or die," in enforcing them. 

"Whether we get more assistance or not, we shall continue to do our 
duty to the best of our ability. There will always be a certain amount 
of crime in a city of this size, but it has never got our of hand. In 
fact we have forty-five per cent less crime in New York City today 
than we had ten years ago. We shall continue to make good doing the 
duty for which we enlisted, and make the people of New York proud 
of their city." 

The Rev. Aaron Eiseman said, "two classes of persons are signaled 
out for villification — the members of a police department and the Jews. 
If there are a few crooked and vicious men among the men of the de- 
partment, the public says that all the policemen are crooked and vicious. 
It is just the way with the Jews. We have some 'bad eggs among us, 
more than I fear we should have. But we ask to be judged by the 
good ones of our race and not by the bad.' You must demand that the 
public judge you by the many who do their full duty year in and year 
out, and to forget the few who may be evil." 

I leave it to you, my good readers, are these two speakers right or 
wrong ; you are the best judges. 

Among the many editorials published, I will just quote one, taken 
from one of our prominent newspapers. The Evening Telegram. This 
is headed by a pitiful statement made by Mrs. William S. Barlow, the 
wife of one of the two men murdered in cold blood on November 14, 
1923. "Bless the police. I have been ill ever since those men killed 
my husband William. But that the men have been arrested soothes me 
somewhat." This editorial follows : "On November 14th last, William 
S. Barlow, a retired lieutenant of police employed as special officer of 
a Brooklyn bank, and WiUiam H. McLaughlin, assistant paying teller 
of the same institution, were shot and killed in broad daylight and 
robbed of $43,609.67 they were carrying. Within two weeks thanks to 
persistent and highly creditable detective work in following up clews 
furnished principally by fingerprints on an automobile used in the 
getaway of the crooks. The Diamond brothers were arrested. Then 
it was that Mrs. Barlow bestowed her blessings on the heads of the 
police. The Diamonds confessed complicity in the crime, but denied 


being the actual murderers. On their information other arrests 

A few weeks ago Judge Alfred J. Talley of General Sessions, re- 
buking a jury for its verdict, said: "The dignity and majesty of the 
law have been lost. . . . Last year there were 7,850 murders and 
6,790 manslaughters, and other unlawful killings in this country." 

With the excellent work done in the case of Barlow and McLaughlin 
murders we believe a start has been made toward remedying the 
startling conditions outlined by Judge Talley. There is no room for 
comment here, my good readers. The words of such an able judge as 
Judge Talley, who grew up from early boyhood among the poorer and 
richer classes of New York, need no comment. The author of this 
work has known Judge Talley for the past thirty-five years, and can 
attest to his good citizenship and good judgment, a credit to the bar of 
this great city. 

I think at this time it will not be out of place to go a little further 
on the police doings of today as I find them. It may be a little pre- 
vious, but nevertheless it is substantiation, and in these days of vilifi- 
cations, it is the duty of us all to verify all that we say or do. In a 
report issued January 3, 1924, on the good work of the policewomen, 
another vast improvement brought about by Police Commissioner 
Enright, who just gave out the following: The ten policewomen as- 
signed to detect mashers on the streets have made forty-two arrests 
since November 22, last, convicting thirty-five. The report shows that 
twenty-two arrests were made in the subways and twenty on the streets. 
Most of the street arrests were made at Thirty-Fourth Street and 

The Police Commissioner also made the following remarks: "In 
my opinion, this particular clean-up squad has done excellent work, and 
has given the professional masher something to think and ponder about. 
The policewomen have been complimented for their activities in this 
connection by the magistrates of the various courts. The majority of 
their convictions resulted in the defendants being sentenced to thirty 

Another improvement for you to pass judgment upon. In my mind 
the thanks of the community are due to our Police Commissioner; the 
dirty miserable curs known as mashers have held sway far too long 
in this city. It is a disgrace to any city in the world when your own 
wife, sister or daughter cannot walk the streets either day or night, 
or even go to see a show without being pinched or insulted by those 
degenerates that prowl around, many of whom have sisters and 
daughters of their own. 

Police Commissioner Enright was retired from the police depart- 


ment according to chapter 65 of the laws of 1918, on a pension of thirty- 
seven hundred and fifty dollars per year. But I notice that we have 
a few good men in our midst who are willing to override the law, and 
do with our Commissioner the same dirty work that was done in the 
case of Chief of Police William S. Devery, who, after paying two per 
cent of his salary for many years into the pension fund of the police 
department of the city of New York, which gave him a vested right in 
sharing in that fund, was robbed of it all. William S. Devery is long 
since dead, peace be to him, but I earnestly hope that the good city 
of New York will never stand for such a mean disgraceful act, namely, 
to rob her own good citizens of the little insurance that they have pro- 
vided for to help the widow and orphans when they are no longer able 
to help them. 

The Police Commissioner of today, I, unfortunately have to say, is 
a poor man, but thoroughly honest, to the contrary notwithstanding; 
his kind and charitable disposition keeps him poor. The Hon. Judge 
Crain, not long since, made the same remark from the bench in general 
session that ought to be enough for any decent citizen. To satisfy his 
own mind, after listening to the howling of some of our so-called good 
citizens, who had dared to call our Pohce Commissioner a grafter, but 
when the time came to prove these assertions, they failed. Judge Crain 
asked Mr, Enright, if he was so inclined would he produce his bank 
books, and what did they show ? A mere two or three thousand dollars, 
and a mortgage on the house of a friend whom he, the Commissioner, 
was helping to make life happy for his friend's wife and family, and 
they have the audacity to call our good Commissioner a bootlegging 
grafter. Has it come to this pass, in New York, that there is no law 
to protect our public servants from the Bolsheviks that are roaming 
around in sheep's clothing, heaping disgrace and ridicule on our ad- 
ministration, thereby and, in a cowardly fashion, bringing disgrace 
upon our fair city. 

In 1890 we were not blessed with policemen like the present Police 
Commissioner Richard E. Enright, a good man in a good man's place, 
or, in other words, a policeman to do a policeman's work, and Dick 
Enright has more than made good. You see, when you want a suit of 
clothes made, you go to a tailor for same, and it is the same in every 
profession, and I am happy to say today, thanks to the Hon. John F. 
Hylan, the Mayor of New York, he being the one man to discover that 
citizen soldiers or business men do not make good police commissioners, 
so he picked a man from the ranks, and the records of today prove that 
Mayor Hylan made an excellent choice when he went alone in search 
of a good policeman to become police commissioner and picked Dick 


Enright from behind the desk of an outlying precinct, where he had 
been transferred for the purpose of losing his identity and popularity. 

When I joined the force we were working under a routine known 
as the two platoon system, and it was a man killer. One was never 
home to spend an evening with his wife and family, for if a copper 
was lucky he would be given a night off every forty-five or fifty days, 
and if the captain was a brutal bug, as some of them were, the poor 
cop would get no night off, as the captain would announce a shortage 
of men for an excuse. Today, thanks to Police Commissioner Enright, 
and a solid sound organization like the Patrolmen's Benevolent Associa- 
tion, the men are free men, working in a ten-squad system, with a night 
off every five days, less hours, and all the comforts of both home and 
station house. 

I wish that I had the time and space to put this matter more plainly 
before my readers; the story to be told would open your eyes, and at 
that we were not pestered with these miserable little degenerates, known 
today as gunmen. No, no, just as soon as we heard of a lobster want- 
ing to be tough we sailed into him with that good old night stick, and 
believe me he would give up the idea of becoming a tough man. 

In my day we received a salary of one thousand dollars per year. 
Out of that we had to keep a home and family, pay for our uniforms, 
society tax, station house taxes, and often be called upon to put up a 
dollar to bury some unfortunate old cop, or to send flowers to the cap- 
tain's daughter, and other incidentals, and this on top of a poor cop 
starting out in debt. 

But things are dift'erent today, the men have rest and kindnesses 
that we never enjoyed, and the salary is wonderful, starting in at about 
seventeen hundred and fifty dollars, and raising up to twenty-five 
hundred per year, and a good kind commissioner who is ever ready to 
listen to his men. In our day you would get a complaint if you dared 
speak to one of the commissioners, oh, glory be ! 

The police department of today is doing wonderful work, and is 
receiving the praise of all good citizens, the judges on the bench, and 
the grand juries of both counties, also advertisements in the trains both 
on the elevated and subway, praising the police for their wonderful 
work. Why just take for instance the West End Bank murder, that 
of Lieutenant Barlow, an old side partner of mine, and young Mc- 
Laughlin, a hero soldier boy of the late great war. Within twenty-four 
hours after the wonderful police system under Commissioner Enright 
had the finger prints of the murderers, and within ten days the 
murderers themselves. This and other cases were cleared up so that 
the Police Commissioner did not need to cancel his yearly vacation so' 
that both his wife and himself sailed for Bermuda for three weeks; 


but the wires from New York to Bermuda and other places, keeping 
the Police Commissioner posted on every act of his men, were burning 
all the time. 

Yes and this was all printed in the newspapers that are constantly- 
shouting "Crime Wave," investigate the police, and stuff of that nature. 
And the best part of this case is that while working it up, the police 
captured several other murderers and crimesters, and is fast making a 
cleanup of all of this miserable crowd known to the underworld as 

Then we have the other grafter who is, when out of power, constantly 
shouting investigate the police, just so that they can cop a few thousand 
dollars, as lawyers or lawyers' clerks, thereby robbing this grand old 
city, and what good did these investigations ever do for the city? Why 
nothing but bring disgrace upon her, all for no purpose only to give 
a few rats a meal ticket. That has been the case ever since Senator 
Lexow was going to do such wonders away back in 1894, and all that 
they did was to convict a man or two of his own, the Republican party, 
you know it my friends? In conclusion, let me ask some of our bad 
minded citizens to let our police commissioner alone; he is honest and 
able, no bootlegger nor crook as some of this gentry would like to 
have the people believe, and remember when you are busy falsely accus- 
ing our police commissioner, you are belittling this grand old city, that 
gives you your living, so stop it, yes shut up, and remember that he who 
lives in a glass house can't afford to throw stones. 

As Bill Devery used to say, you are a lot of four flushers, two-spot 
gamblers, "Touching on and appertaining to a bum lot of sports," and 
if our old friend Alec Williams was here he would show you where the 
tenderloin is situated, and tell you how to get rich quick, so good-night. 



The Administration of Police Commissioner Richard E. En- 
right, AND His Able Board of Deputies, Both Police and 
Citizen, Giving a Brief Account of the Clever Detective 
Work of Acting Captain Daniel J. Carey, Captains Thomas 
Fay and George Busby and Staffs Concerning the West 
End Bank Murderers, the Murderers of Estelle Philips, 
and the Murder of "Kid Dropper" and Others 

January 23, 1918, was a great day in New York, at least among 
the men of the police and all other municipal offices and departments, 
when the news flashed all over that His Honor Mayor John F. Hylan 
had appointed Police Lieutenant Richard E. Enright to the position of 
the police commissionership of this great municipality. With all due 
respect to everyone concerned the Mayor could not have done a better 
thing, for he appointed a man to fill a man's job, and Police Commis- 
sioner Enright has surely made good. The fact remains that after four 
years of service, Mayor Hylan is reelected with one of the largest 
majorities ever given a public officer, and that certainly speaks well for 
our Mayor's good sound judgment. And the very first order signed by 
the Mayor in his second term was to reappoint our Police Commissioner 
to succeed himself, and little old New York is going stronger all the 
time. And I am willing to make a good bet that if Mayor Hylan is at 
all inclined and the third time bugaboo doesn't scare him, he the Mayor, 
can be renominated and elected to succeed himself in 1925. 

It is utterly impossible for me to write of all of the improvements 
and monies saved the city by our Police Commissioner in the past six 
years, giving the taxpayers a clean street to walk on so that one can 
take his wife out for a walk, or go alone for that matter, and not be 
accosted by the unfortunate woman of the street. Enright has driven 
every prostitute and houses of prostitution out of New York City, and 
that one thing alone is a wonderful change, but there are many other 
good improvements that you can read of if you will, but give the 
Police Commissioner a fair deal and read up his yearly reports to 
the mayor of this great city. 



I assure you, my dear readers, from the point of view of an old 
New York policeman, and one that was blessed with the fact of his 
having had this big-hearted police commissioner on probation with him 
night after night on and around the dives and slums of Cherry Hill, 
in November, 1896. Enright was a darned good probationer, a mighty 
good policeman, but better than all a darned good police commissioner. 
Let us see what the commissioner has done in the last six years, and 
mind you, they were trying years. 

First Deputy Police Commissioner Judge John Anderson Leach 
was the first choice of Commissioner Enright, whom he has known for 
many years as a very able lawyer, and a former Judge of Brooklyn. 

Second Deputy Police Commissioner, fonner Inspector John Daly, 
has been many years connected with the force. He is a man that is de- 
voted to his duties as a member of the Catholic Church just as he is to 
the duties of a policeman, so that one doesn't have to be afraid that 
he is likely to get a false complaint put over on him. Deputy Com- 
missioner John Daly joined the force January, 1886, promoted to 
roundsman, 1891; sergeant, February 4, 1896; captain, 1903; inspector, 
April 14, 1909; chief of police, January 24, 1918; deputy police com- 
missioner, 1920; receiving promotions from Commissioners Roosevelt, 
Greene, Bingham, and his last two promotions from Police Commis- 
sioner Richard E. Enright. 

Third Deputy Police Commissioner Joseph A. Faurot is well known 
to all of us old timers for his wonderful introduction of the finger 
print system that he crossed over to Paris to study which is the talk of 
the world, and in spite of much opposition from the police heads of 
1909. And while the Deputy Commissioner is somewhat bashful and 
shady, nevertheless Joe Faurot is a darn good mixer and some orator 
I assure you. The Deputy Commissioner is a member of many clubs 
and societies, and an old-time member and past officer of the Royal 
Arcanum, of which the writer has been a member for twenty-eight 
years, also a past regent, meeting the Deputy Commissioner at conven- 
tions and other gatherings of the order. Deputy Commissioner Faurot 
succeeded Colonel A. D. Porter, who resigned to attend to his law 
practice of many years' standing. 

Fourth Deputy Police Commissioner John J. Cray needs no intro- 
duction, for his work as the head of the detective division for many 
years past has endeared him to all. He is a product of the old gas- 
house district of Manhattan, a staunch Catholic, kindly and charitable to 
all, and above all a man among men, one that can boast of more testi- 
monials and letters of thanks from our magistrates and judges and heads 
of all departments of charity in this great city. He is a brother of the 
late Inspector Patrick Cray, and a credit to this or any other city ad- 


ministration. He, having charge of the detective division for many- 
years, made for himself a wonderful record, second only to the three 
great detectives of the past, Murray, Byrnes, and McCaffrey. 

Chief of Police William J. Lahey, another one of the old school, 
started in quite young and he, too, was a great detective and built up 
a great record of arrest and convictions, winning his spurs on his 

Deputy Police Chief Inspector Thomas H. Murphy is another mem- 
ber of the "finest" that have made good, having joined the force in 
1897, receiving his appointment from Police Commissioner Roosevelt, 
he started right out to do police duty, and is doing it yet. His record 
was so good that our old friend General Bingham promoted him to the 
position of captain, and he continued to pile up a great record so that 
Police Commissioner Arthur Woods made Tom Murphy from Wyoming 
County a police inspector, and when Police Commissioner Enright en- 
tered police headquarters as police commissioner, he made Tom Murphy 
a deputy chief inspector to assist Chief Lahey. Deputy Chief Murphy 
has endeared himself to all for his good old God-save-all-here demo- 
cratic spirit, and everyone glories in his promotions. 

Deputy Chief Thomas H. Murphy was born of a fighting hero of 
the late Civil War, for he was the son of Captain Francis Murphy, and 
from whom he inherits the splendid military bearing for which he is 
noted. From the very day that he was appointed patrolman in 1897, 
to the present day, Tom Murphy has been constantly doing good police 
duty, and this brought about his recognition by every police commis- 
sioner as that of a fearless police officer who, without pull, stopped at 
nothing in his work as a police officer, and in the end was respected and 
obeyed by all. He was appointed by Roosevelt, made captain by Bing- 
ham, inspector by Woods and deputy police chief by Police Commis- 
sioner Richard E. Enright. 

Deputy Chief Inspector Samuel G. Belton is another man who has 
made good in the past, and it did not take Commissioner Enright long 
to see that in Sam Belton he had a good worthy officer, and one who 
deserved promotion, so that he ordered Sam Belton to report to his 
office and the Commissioner appointed this good faithful officer to the 
position of deputy chief inspector, and gave him command of the 
public service division with headquarters in the old sixth precinct sta- 
tion house on Elizabeth Street, and Deputy Chief Belton is doing good 
work in that position as in all others. 

Deputy Chief Inspector John O'Brien is one of the best known 
police officials in the whole of New York, for his work on traffic is 
wonderful, and he is constantly studying the most serious problem of 
all, and that is to make the streets of New York safe for all who 


travel through them, and he, too, is making good, not only piling up 
honors in our own city, but from far-off France honors are bestowed 
on this good faithful police officer. 

Deputy Chief Inspector Thomas J. Kelly of the twelfth inspection 
district is another son of the gas house district of little old New York, 
a good policeman trying his very best to do proper police duty, and 
at the same time to keep out of trouble. But glory be, that is a very 
hard matter nowadays, for if you catch a bootlegger you are a son 
of a gun, and if you don't catch a bootlegger you are a son of a 
gun, so between the bootleggers and the men of the liquor inforce- 
ment department of the United States government, one is in hot water 
all the time, for to quote the words of Police Commissioners Enright, 
"the Government is responsible for letting the gol darned stuff come 
in by the barrel and let us get it by the spoon." 

Thomas J. Kelly was appointed patrolman, October 24, 1896, and 
for his wonderful work as a detective was promoted captain, November 
6, 1907, inspector, January 30, 1909. He is known as a good policeman, 
quiet and unassuming and a good fellow, a credit to the gas-house dis- 
trict. Tom Kelly was made acting deputy chief inspector and full dep- 
uty chief by Commissioner Enright, January 23, 1925. 

Deputy Chief Inspector Dominick Henry is another member of the 
force who is constantly going the rounds and doing good police duty, in 
spite of the fact that certain people in this big town tried hard to ruin 
this good man. He is still doing police duty in the same old shop, but 
the gangsters and their friends don't like that, and every now and then 
they try to put something over on Dominick Henry, but they don't suc- 
ceed, for Dominick is another one of the proteges of the famous gas- 
house district of New York, and they are noted like their leader, the 
late Cliarles F. Murphy, they never lay down but constantly march on- 
ward to victory. I just received word that my good friend Dominick 
Henry is about to retire after thirty-five years of good service. 

Deputy Chief Inspector Cornelius F. Cahalane is another good 
policeman that is worthy of all that can be said or given to him in 
the line of promotion. I worked with the deputy as a patrolman, and he 
in after years became my roundsman, down in the old second precinct, 
so that I am in the right position to verify all that Con Cahalane has been 
doing ever since the night on the Staten Island Ferry Boat, when by his 
good judgment and manly conduct as a policeman he prevented a serious 
crime, yes, perhaps a murder or two, so that Deputy Chief Cahalane is 
fully entitled to all that the police department or the good citizens of 
this great city can give him. 

Acting Deputy Chief John W. O'Connor, president of the Inspectors 
and Captains' Association, is another one of the good old cops of the 


long ago, and at one time it was the talk of us old cops as to which of 
them, meaning John O'Connor and Adam A. Cross, was the best 
dressed, and they were both of them very natty dressers, yes and they 
are today. Acting Deputy Chief O'Connor is rendering great service to 
Deputy Chief Inspector John O'Brien regulating traffic, and although 
John W. O'Connor is growing old in the servive, he is still going strong. 

Somehow, while writing on this question of New York traffic, it 
seems to me that I am writing of the city of Cork, instead of the city 
of New York, for long years ago we had a Steve O'Brien and his boss 
Com McAdoo working on this same problem, and here we are twenty- 
five years later and still have the O'Briens and the O'Connors tugging 
away at this same old job, and every day doing something new in the 
interest of our citizens in particular and humanity in general. 

Deputy Chief Cornelius F. Cahalane was born, October 18, 1875, 
and joined the force, September 2, 1900. He was made sergeant, 
December 12, 1901; lieutenant, December 7, 1905; captain. May 29, 
1911; inspector, August 30, 1911, and deputy chief, 1918. Con 
Cahalane built for himself a very fine record, is known as quiet and 
unassuming and respected by all. 

Now a word about our police inspectors, they, too, are doing some- 
thing to help along the worthy cause, and I hope to see some of those 
hard working policemen become deputy chiefs in the future, one can 
never tell. But unfortunately some of our inspectors are in trouble 
today, for that cursed liquor question will make trouble even in heaven 
I am afraid. It has already made trouble in some of our churches 
whose ministers, instead of going out upon the highways and the by- 
ways to fill their churches on Sunday, are spending their time denying 
the birth of Christ, and approving the actions of a man who tells the 
world that he can get twenty-five thousand dollars put in his hand by 
a stranger, without even giving a receipt. Oh, for the good old days 
of the forty-niners and the gold fields of California. 

There are other inspectors of whom the same remarks as above may 
be said, and they are Thomas T. Ryan, a product of good old ex-chief 

Mose Cortright, a man of few words, but he works a h of a lot and 

can fight just as hard, so they will have to go some to catch Tommy 
Ryan napping. Inspector Thomas T. Ryan was born, June 18, 1874, 
appointed patrolman, April 22, 1906, promoted to roundsman and de- 
tailed to the office of good old Police Chief Cortwright and promoted 
to lieutenant, December 7, 1905; captain, December, 1900; inspector, 
March 10, 1914. Tommy Ryan is known as a good policeman, 
well learned and a credit to the department. Is a good member of the 
Royal Arcanum as well as of all police organizations. 

Inspectors Sam McElroy, retired, and Joseph A, Conboy, just died, 


were two other good policemen and respected by all, peace be to you 
Joe Conboy, and best wishes to you, Sam McElroy. We hope you are 
enjoying your retirement so well deserved. 

But I am sorry to say that there are a few hungry men still living, 
some of whom would drink out of a tomato can, and often, have done 
so when on a spree that they like to go upon every now and then, but 
ever ready to brew trouble for others ; bad luck to them that wouldn't 
learn to be men. They are constantly squaking, shooting off their 
vile mouths trying to fool the people into thinking that they are angels ; 
but they are fooling themselves if they think that they are going to 
keep on prostituting the good name of the crusaders of the past. We 
are all of us wise to their game and sooner or later they will fall heavy, 
and then woe be to them. They think that they are making trouble 
for "the police commissioner, but again they are fooled, for Dick Enright 
knows more in his little finger than do those blatherskites in their 
whole carcass. They are not making trouble for the heads of the de- 
partment. No, no, these men have proved their case and are now pre- 
ferring charges against the inspectors and the rank and file so that the 
public will not be fooled. These charges are preferred so that each of 
the inspectors must tell all that they know about this bootlegging that is 
supposed to be going on. 

Inspector Thomas McDonald of the third inspection district is an- 
other one of those fine young fellows who no doubt in the past, while 
doing strict police duty, stepped on someone's toes and today they are 
trying to get him for revenge ; for to give the devil his due the inspector 
worked wonders in certain districts that he formerly had charge of; 
and the selfsame thing can be said of anybody that tries to do his 
duty. I am out of the job, thank God, under the present conditions, 
but you believe me that if you do your duty as it should be done, then 
in nine cases out of ten you are a marked man ; and I know of what I 
speak or write. I am quite sure that they will have a hard time putting 
anything over on Inspector Tom McDonald, for he has the fighting 
blood of his ancestors, and he can stand right up and fight under any 
strain, I know it for we have fought side by side in many battles of 
the long ago. 

Inspector James S. Bolan of the fourth inspection district is an- 
other one of those clever young fellows that has made good, both in 
the past and present, and I am sure that they will stick nothing on him 
either. I have known Jim Bolan some thirty years, and have traveled 
with him more or less ever since, and I am fully aware that he is a 
product of good manly Americans, with the red blood of our country 
running through his whole make-up, and my reasons for saying this is 
that any young man as he was twenty-five years ago, that would dare 

World's Champion. 

Captain, 35th Precinct. 

Courtesy of Police Magazine 

SERG. PAT McDonald, 

World's Champion. 



jump off a ferryboat in motion, in the dark waters of Hell Gate, en- 
dangering his own life to save two others, will certainly die fighting. I 
was detailed at the Astoria Ferry when Jim Bolan made those heroic 
rescues, and it was my report that helped to get Patrolman Bolan what 
he justly deserved — promotion. Inspector James S. Bolan was born 
June 27, 1872, appointed patrolman, December 3, 1896 ; sergeant, June 
1, 1901; lieutenant, 1904; captain, November 14, 1913, and inspector 
two years later by Commissioner Arthur Woods. 

Inspector George C. Liebers, another blue-blooded American, who 
has weathered many a storm, and they have never yet pinned anything 
on George but medals, and he carries a whole lot of them, and I am 
darned if they are going to stick anything on him today for, like In- 
spectors Coleman and West, they will have to fight every inch of 
ground to convict them of graft or neglect of duty, for it is easy enough 
to prefer charges, but a hard and sore matter to prove them. And my 
estimation of a man who will prefer charges against his fellow man, 
let it be for political or any other purpose, and cannot prove them, is a 
coward, and there is but one place for him and that is where the fires 
are going all the time, for the engineers and firemen of that corporation 
never strike, unless they may strike a coward when he arrives there for 
there are some good men even in hell. 

Inspector John F. Sweeney, another one of those good men who 
have made their mark, a long while in the job, and still going strong, and 
he is not to be bulldozed or driven from a good job by a grasping crowd 
of hungry or perhaps, I should say, would-be bootleggers. 

Inspector Charles A. Formoso, another good old fighting policeman, 
who was never before charged with neglect of duty, for any one that 
knows Charlie Formoso, who sent three of his sons to fight for their 
country in the late World War, knows full well that he was never 
known to turn his back on a man's face or hard work in the past thirty- 
five years. But what's the use, sure if George Washington was on earth 
today they would call him a bootlegger, a grafter, etc., so it is no use of 
worrying, you have a good commissioner, and he won't put anything 
over you, nor will he let others do it. 

I earnestly hope and trust these inspectors will win their cases, for 
it was simply impossible for them to make arrests in many of those 
cases, and in the case in which they did make arrests the prisoners were 
turned loose, for some reason or the other, best known to somebody 

Before closing, I must speak of two grand old policemen, whom 
you all know, perhaps better than I can tell, but nevertheless I know 
a whole lot of the workings of Superintendent Michael R. Brennan of 
the police telegraph bureau, and the wonderful things that he has don^ 


in the matter of police communication, both with the telegraph, wire- 
less, or radio, and to try to write of all the thousands of miles of wire 
laid down by the superintendent and his staff in this little work would 
be impossible, for I could not do the superintendent or his men 
justice; but I hope later on, when the high cost of labor and material 
becomes more normal, to write more of this grand old gentleman and 
his boys, with photographs of all. 

Police Captain William H. Ward is one of the "adonises'' of the 
police department of today, a former protege of Police Commissioner 
William McAdoo. Bill Ward is traveling in the footsteps of our chief 
magistrate. Captain Ward was appointed patrolman, October 25, 1893 ; 
promoted sergeant, 1902; lieutenant, 1905; captain, 1913. 

Now we come to the duke, Acting Captain William F. Brennan, 
and the able and ever-ready smiling countenance of Bill Brennan, can 
be seen by all every morning in the white house on Centre Street, New 
York City ; yes, long before the morning line up you will see Custodian 
Brennan on the job, like the good fellow that he succeeded, the late 
Police Lieutenant William J. McCarthy (or Bull McCarthy), peace be 
with him where he is, for it was not often with him in this troublesome 
bootlegging world. William F. Brennan was born January 1, 1860, 
in Flushing, L. I. 

The libel suit of Police Commissioner Enright against Cuvillier and 
Corrigan came to what I deem an unsatisfactory conclusion on 
November 5, 1924, by the defendants apologizing to the plaintiff. To 

h with all apologies ; all that Dick Enright wanted was to get this 

lame duck Cuvillier on the witness stand to ask him a few questions ; 
but that pleasure was denied the Police Commissioner, because of the 
unwarranted interference of some fine gentleman or other, for I will 
stake my life it was not Dick Enright, no not at all ; he would sooner 
die fighting, and I know what I am talking about at that. I am sorry 
that this matter did not come to a satisfactory conclusion before 
Supreme Court Justice Callaghan, and have the defendants and others 
of the same type given to understand that they cannot abuse and lie 
about a man that to my mind is much cleaner than either of these same 
gentlemen. Richard E. Enright is at least humane and manly; that 

is more than can be said of his enemies, for h to their souls, they 

don't know what the word humanity means. 

However, the case is now closed and Richard E. Enright victorious. 
And while the defendants may be forgiven, for as the Gospel teaches, 
"Forgive them, father, they know not what they do." I for one will 
never for a moment forget the summing up of the first trial of this 
suit, for it will be foremost in my memory for many years to come. I 


have heard of men lowering themselves and their characters, if they 
ever had any, to attain their point, but in all of my fifty years of ex- 
perience in and around the police courts and the halls of justice of both 
this and other cities, meeting with fake lawyers, crooked lawyers, and 
those practicing and successful lawyers who were never lawyers at all, 
at all, and many honest able lawyers, from the good old days of Judge 
Martine, Recorder Smyth, down to the present time, the summing up 
for his cowardly client Cuvillier, who was afraid to take the witness 
stand in his own defence, of Counselor Conboy was the worst that I 
have ever heard, for, to poison the minds against Enright Counselor 
Martin Conboy made false statements to the jury, that was not at all 
becoming to a president of one of the greatest organizations in the 
world for he should be filled with sympathy and not malice toward 
mankind, in attempting to take from a good man what he could not 
give back, and that is a good sterling, noble, honest character. This 
is Public Record. 

I know of what I speak, for I was called upon to visit a friend, 
also a friend of Louis Cuvillier, and prominent in politics in this city. 
The letter requested me to call was written January 24, 1923, and I 
then called on my friend Mr. S. Sunday, February, 1923. The first 
question asked by Mr. S. was, "Mr. Hickey, what kind of a man is that 
friend of yours?" I asked whom he had reference to, and Mr. S. said, 
"I mean Enright." "Why," I said, "Mr. S., Police Commissioner En- 
right is all right, and the right man in the right place." "I don't 
think so," said Mr. S., "or there would not be so much grafting in and 
around the city." I replied, "You don't think for a moment that Mr. 
Enright knows of this alleged graft, do you?" "Yes, I do." Said Mr. 
S., and he recited a story of a friend of his on the west side of the city 
who was constantly giving up to the police for protection, and this is 
the same case that Cuvillier roared about on the floor of the Assembly 
not long after the conversation between Mr. S. and myself. 

After listening to the sad story of my friend S., who also told me 
other particulars of this case, highly interesting, I assure you, I arose to 
leave, saying to my good friend, "See here, Mr. S., you of course 
called me here to hear your story, and to lay same before my good 
friend, Mr. Enright." And he answered, "Why, yes, Mr. Hickey." 
"Well," I asked Mr. S., "suppose I lay this story before Mr. Enright, 
and he orders an investigation, will your friend take the stand to testify 
against these grafters?" Mr. S. answered, "Oh, no, Mr. Hickey, my 
friend would not want to be the first to testify against them." Then 

I answered, "What in h can I do, take this bum story to the Police 

Commissioner and your friend not willing to help the investigation? 
Good day." 


But I was asked to call again, which I did the following Sunday, 
I think or shortly after our first interview. Cuvillier had exploded his 
bomb on the floor of the Assembly by that time, and I asked my friend, 
Mr. S., what he thought of the actions of his friend Cuvillier, and he 
answered, "Why that fellow is crazy, for he had no right to make such 
an outcry on the floor of the Assembly." But I was not idle, for I 
wanted to prove to Mr. S. and the world that our Police Commissioner 
was not a grafter, nor would he stand for any grafters in the police de- 
partment, and he made good, for the one responsible was called to 
police headquarters, and ordered by the Police Commissioner to get out 
of the department, or he would put him out. And this good faithful of- 
ficer, having served twenty-five years and arrived at the retiring age of 
fifty-five, placed his request for retirement before the Commissioner and 
was automatically retired, and today I understand is holding office under 
the control of his friends of the Ku Klux Klan in one of our neigh- 
boring towns or villages, bad luck to them. 

While I may not be quite right about my later dates, nevertheless 
I hold the letter asking me to call, and a memorandum of what followed, 
and I am ready to produce them at any old time should the occasion 
require. So that when this man Conboy was summing up and picturing 
Enright as a party to whatever grafting or bootlegging there might be 
among the men of the department, he knew full well that same was not 
so, and that was the reason that his cowardly client Louis Cuvillier was 
afraid to take the stand at the trial in his own defense. Shame on you 
men, and your so-called Americanism! 

Counselor Conboy made a sorry mess of his summing up, for in- 
stead of poisoning the minds of the jury against Enright, their minds 
were poisoned against his client Cuvillier, and if it was not for the 
graceful charge to the jury by the Hon. Justice Callaghan, who stated 
that if the jury found for the plaintiff, then both defendants were 
equally guilty. The only trouble with the jury was to soak Cuvillier 
just as hard as they could, but to let up on Judge Corrigan, because 
Cuvillier dragged him into the case, but that could not be done, hence 
the disagreement in the first trial, and this should be a lesson to all of 
these blatherskites. 

This libel case is something like the ending of the great World War, 
for while our brave American boys and their allies were preparing to 
fight their way through Metz, some gent or the other, we can't find out 
who happened along and produced an armistice, and here we are six 
years after and the whole world still at war, with the powers that be in 
Washington oiling the American people, and Anderson, the father of 
prohibition, in jail. Glory be, but to my mind matters of this character 
should be fought to an issue, and that without any foreign interference 


whatever. And just to show my readers what kind of a man this Police 
Commissioner Enright is, I am going to let you in on a little private 
correspondence. Remember I bear no brief for Mr. Enright, he don't 
need any. 

I sat in conversation with another good friend of mine, also a 
prominent citizen of this great city, in his downtown office one day, I 
think in April, 1923, and our conversation carried us to the Assembly 
Chamber of Albany, while several bills were before the house concern- 
ing Mr. Enright and his administration. I said, "Comissioner, why do 
those fellows up in Albany look with disfavor on Police Commissioner 
Enright and his administration?" 

My friend the Commissioner said, "Well, Mr. Hickey, all that I can 
hear is that Commissioner Enright is in bad among the assemblymen 
and senators, for among others our good friend Senator so and so is 
sore for he has called upon Enright on several occasions, but has never 
yet been admitted to his office. I guess Enright don't want to see us 
people ?" A remark freely made by all. 

Again I was fully sure that this was another mistake, and to clear 
my good friend, I wrote the Commissioner of the matter, and the 
following is the Police Commissioner's reply : 


April 14, 1923 

Mr. John J. Hickey, 

152 East 21st Street, 

New York City. 

My dear John: 

Thank you very much for your letter of the 12th instant. Your interest and 
support is very much appreciated. 

I am familiar with the attitude of some of the politicians who are never 
entirely happy unless they can direct the policies of this department and take care 
of their own particular clique right or wrong. Whenever they have been per- 
mitted to do this, to any great extent, the decent men of this department have 
been deprived of their rights, the service has suffered and, as a result, the party 
has generally been defeated at the polls. 

I have not permitted them to have their own way during my term of office. 
We are playing the game on the square and giving every man a fair show re- 
gardless of his race, religion or politics and, in the meantime, if we can do a 
favor without detriment to the service, we are willing to do it. 

This policy and plan seems to have been successful. At least we have been 
able to successfully withstand the assaults that have been made upon us, and 
the party has been granted a further and more extended lease of power with 
ever increasing majorities. You know very well this would not be the case if 
the department were handled as it has been handled some times in the past. This 
is the first time that a Democratic administration has succeeded itself in New 
York City in a great many years. This could not have been accomplished if the 
Police Department had failed to make good before the public. 

No one can reasonably complain that I have refused to see anyone who has 
any business with my office, so far as it is physically possible to do so. I have 
never denied admittance to any of these gentlemen when they have called at 
Headquarters during my presence. Of course, I cannot see them when I am 
away from the office and I am necessarily away a considerable portion of the 


time. I am seeing ten people in my office to one that any of my predecessors 
ever saw, and I know it is physically impossible to see many more than I see and 
handle the business of the department. I put in more hours by far than any 
police commissioner who ever held the job in order to accommodate the public, 
as far as I am able to do so. 

But, of course, no one will ever be able to please the political cormorants of 
this town unless he gives them everything they ask for and continues to do so 
regardless of all consequences. You may grant them ninety-nine favors and feel 
obliged to refuse the one hundredth request whereupon and because of the last 
refusal all other favors are forgotten. As far as I am concerned I owe them 
nothing, and I know I am treating them far better than they deserve. I do not 
intend to worry in the least as to their opinion of the administration or myself. 

I will be glad to see you when I have the time. 

With kindest regards, I beg to remain, 

Very sincerely yours, 

(Signed) R. E. Enright, 

Police Commissioner. 

I ask ill all fairness could a more manly statement of facts be writ- 
ten than the above ? I earnestly hope that I am not violating the con- 
fidence of my dear good friend, and I feel that I am not, for I have 
known the Commissioner so long that I know full well that he never 
writes a letter that he is afraid to have see the light of day. Dick 
Enright feels as I feel in all such matters, for "I could fight with the 
lion that would roar in my face, but can't bear a cur at ray heels." 

"For he without sin, let him cast the first stone/' 

Speaking about fake and shyster lawyers, why I knew a very suc- 
cessful lawyer among the crooks down on the lower east side, and for 
all the years that he practised at the bar, he had never passed the 
Regents nor did he have a diploma. I remember well his success for I 
arrested, after quite a chase, one known as Sheeny Hymie, an all-round 
thief, after robbing an English sailor on Cherry Hill at midnight. I 
had my prisoner held for the grand jury, indicted, held, for general 
sessions, and while my complainant fully recognized the robber on five 
occasions, for I had him committed to the house of detention so that 
he could not be reached, but they got to him all right, and on the sixth 
occasion he could not recognize the robber at all. They had gotten him 
out of the house of detention and fixed him up; so I lost my case, and 
it goes without saying also the little sleep that I was entitled to on my 
day ofif, for all such cases were called on our day ofif at all times, either 
cases in general sessions, special sessions, or municipal court. Yes, my 
bold friend Johnny was a peach of a lawyer, and when it was discovered 
that he was no lawyer at all, he skipped over to Jersey, and today is a 
very successful business man in Jersey City. 

I knew of another prominent lawyer among the crooks, a politician 
at that, and the crooks thinking that he could do better for them than 
another would engage him, and he would get a good fat retainer, ap- 
pear for them in the police court, have them held for the grand jury 


and general sessions, and then say to the unfortunate crook, "Say, you 
had better take a plea. You ain't got a leg to stand upon," and the 
crook would go up the river, take a plea. Johnny would go gunning for 
another such case. 

I love to think back to the good old days of Abe Hummel of Howe 
and Hummel ; big Ed Price, the grand old bare-knuckle fighter of the 
sixties and who practised around the old Tombs for years; also Joe 
Moss, Jim Finnerty, and last, but not least, "Rosey." Gee, but they 
were the good old days around old Centre Street; today that part of 
that grand old street is dead, and I miss the gentle kindly face of Father 
Luke Evers, visiting his flock for the purpose of consoling and com- 
forting them, for the dear Monsignor passed away June, 1924, R. I. P. 

I do wish that I was free to speak, but unfortunately I am not, for 
I have to be careful of a libel suit, and while I have nothing, for this 
book has got me broke, nevertheless I have great respect for this book 
at that, or I could tell you some queer things about the boyhood doings 
of some of our great men of today. And in speaking about libel, re- 
minds me of the teachings of my good old friend, the late Senator 
Timothy D. Sullivan (Big Tim). A friend came up to Tim one day 
and told him that he was going to sue a man for libel, and big Tim 
grabbed a hold of him and said, "Be careful, young fellow, for fear 
that the other fellow might prove his case." And to quote another 

famous Tim, that said, "What the h is the constitution, among 


God be with my dear old friend the late Congressman Tim Camp- 
bell, for if he was alive today they would never put over a prohibition 
bill upon us poor unfortunate American citizens. No. no, causing a 
waste of millions and a horrible increase in crime, murder, and dev- 
astation on all sides. Well this is the story of that great Irish wit, 
Tim Campbell, whom I had the honor of knowing personally for the 
past forty years or more. Tim and his friends worked hard to elect 
Grover Cleveland president and, having succeeded, he thought that he 
was justified in asking this great democrat for a personal favor. But 
the favor that Tim wanted for a constituent could not be granted, and 
President Qeveland said, "Why, Mr. Campbell, that would be a viola- 
tion of the Constitution." It was then that Tim Campbell spoke those 

"historical words, "What the H is the Constitution among 


The writer tended bar on Cherry Street near the "Hook" in 1882 
when Tim Campbell was a municipal court judge in that district, Tim 
was elected congressman, and John Henry McCarthy succeeded Mr. 
Campbell as municipal court judge (The Little Judge with a wise head). 


Many are the stories that could be told about Tim Campbell and the 
wonderful Irish characters of that day, God be with them. 

I love to wander back to those dear old days, the happy days of dear 
old "Cork Row" and old "Boss Barry," where the Pigs, the Goslings 
and the goats reigned supreme, and the tough men of that day were 
Jack Hussey, Jack Radley, and Kilkenny, A policeman was forced to 
use diplomacy when dealing with this trio for they cared as much for 
a policeman's night stick as the girls of today think about destroying 
their beautiful hair by bobbing it, nothing. I shall never forget old 
Cork Row, for when I was a greenhorn here in 1881 my uncle Jim 
Donovan took me up to meet a distant relative, old Boss Barry, and 
while the old gents were talking a big buck billy goat ran foul of me, 
and I received my first cold reception in America. For the big, hairy, 
whiskered old divil, whatever he had against me, he would run at me 
and buck, buck, buck, and all that I could do was to grab his long 
whiskers, and then the trouble started for fair. And I had to retreat, 
for I fell headlong down the stairs, breaking my sleeve links and in- 
juring my arm. 

Did you ask if I ever shall forget that fight? Well, no, I might 
forget the "Blizzard of 1888, but never the goat of 1881." And imagine 
my doing police duty in the same old neighborhood years afterwards. 
Gee, if I ever ran foul of that old billy goat, I would sure run him in. 

Late News : The newspaper of today, January 28, 1925, are pub- 
lishing the fact that Justice Harry Lewis of the Supreme Court has 
thrown the case of some would-be saintly fellow over in Brooklyn, 
charging Police Commissioner Enright with libel out of Court and de- 
manding $100,000, but I guess that he is sorry today, for as Big Tim 
Sullivan used to say to his friends, be careful in suing for libel for the 
other fellow may prove it on you. Imagine anybody looking to get 
$100,000 out of our Police Commissioner ! Why if Dick Enright had 
that much money, he would take the next steamer out and go over 
and free Ireland, Of course this, like other dirt, is a legacy from the 
Meyer Investigation Committee of 1921, for it appears that somebody 
called somebody else by his right name, and this is the result. Just 
think of it, a diplomat like the Hon. Richard E, Enright, Police Com- 
missioner of New York for eight years, and possessor of the great 
title of Chief of the National Police Organizations of the World, leav- 
ing himself open to a libel suit. It is laughable. 

January 31st, 1925 — Deputy Chief Inspector Dominick Henry re- 
tired today to take a much needed rest, for they all but murdered him 
in the thirty-five years that he served the city as a policeman, and he 
was a policeman, as the crooks and gamblers knew only too well. 


Police Commissioner Enright tonight promoted Inspector Thomas 
Fay to be Deputy Chief Inspector in sole charge of the detective divi- 
sion. Also Inspector William A. Coleman, placing him in charge of the 
traffic division of the five boroughs. The Commissioner also demoted 
many detectives and promoted others from the detective school to take 
their places. 

Before closing this work it would not be fair to do so without 
writing of the wonderful work of Father W. E. Cashin, now of St. 
Andrews, but formerly of Sing Sing Prison, the man that made good. 
After serving a bit of twelve years in state's prison, and becoming a 
good reliable trusty, attending to the spiritual comforts of thousands 
of unfortunates, our Hon. Governor Alf. Smith has paroled Father 
Cashin to the custody of our Catholic Big Brother, his eminence Car- 
dinal Patrick Hayes. And in turn his eminence has sentenced Father 
Cashin to a life service among the night walkers, the inmates of the 
Tombs Prison, and any unfortunate passing his way in need of either 
spiritual or moral assistance. Some contract after tending to the wants 
of the many unfortunates who were charged with the crime of murder, 
some of whom may not be guilty of the charge, among them the late 
Lieutenant Charlie Becker. 

And this not being sufficient punishment for this good-natured 
padre, Police Commissioner Richard E. Enright went the cardinal one 
better by appointing Father Cashin police chaplain to the New York 
veteran police. So there you are ; this good and faithful trusty, after 
his twelve long, long years, in that noted white castle overlooking the 
beautiful Hudson River, the palace of tears and sighs, is promoted to 
take up the good work of the late Monsignor Luke J. Evers. And 
now Father Cashin's family consists of the night worker, the crook, 
the bum, and the unfortunate, and last, but not least, so that he is sure 
of being protected, he has taken over the spiritual wants of the old 
policemen. Glory be, what a combination to be sure ! Go to it. Father 
Cashin, more power to you, and may God assist you, for after all it 
pays to be honest. 


This Chapter Speaks of the Unfortunate Illness of Mayor 
Hylan and the Untimely Passing Away of President War- 
ren Harding and that Wonderful American Statesman, 
Ex-President Woodrow Wilson, He of the Lion Heart, that 
Gave up His Life for his Noble Ideals, Looking for the 
Benefit of All Mankind, Peace Be to Them, for All Time; 
and Other Interesting Matters of the Present Day 

Mayor Hylan was taken sick in September, 1923, and forced tq 
leave the city and Hon. Murray Hulbert, President of the Board of 
Aldermen, became acting mayor, and along in January Mr. Hulbert 
became sick and was forced to lay off, leaving the chair to the vice- 
president of the Board of Aldermen, the Hon. William T. Collins, and 
wherever the jinx came from Mr. Collins was stricken down, and as 
the charter does not provide for anyone below the position of vice- 
president of the Board of Aldermen to act as mayor we were without 
a head to our grand administration for awhile. I recall that in 1916 
the late Mayor John P. Mitchel and the president of the Board of 
Aldermen, the present Commissioner of Immigration Hon. Henry H. 
Curran, both were taking military training at Plattsburg in a spirit of 
preparedness, for what came along after, the great World War. Both 
of those gentlemen left for Plattsburg on Saturday, and the next in 
line being sick, the city was then without a mayor, but it was all right 
when they returned on Tuesday, the chair was still standing in the same 
old place. So little old New York is not quite so bad as some of the 
noisy fellows would have it be. 

I may add at this time that the Hon. Henry H. Curran joined the 
colors and did some very good work on the bloody field of Flanders, 
the writer being in touch with Major Curran while overseas. And 
John Purroy Mitchel joined the aviation corps, having been succeeded 
by the Hon. John F. Hylan as mayor of this great city, met with an 
accident and died in harness. 

So here we are today with a police force second to none the world 
over, protecting six milions of people composed of every known, or 
unknown, country on the face of God's earth, many crooks and bad men 
among them doing their dirty work every now and again, until they 
run foul of Inspector Thomas Fay, and his great detective staff, who 



are recorded to have done wonderfully in the last six months, and 
they will never rest until they have every crook in Sing Sing and 
murderer in the electric chair. And while the city may be without a 
mayor, it will never be without protection while police commissioner 
Richard E. Enright and his grand body of deputies are at the head of 
the department, 

Sunday, February 3, 1924, all the world today is mourning the 
death of one of America's foremost scholars and a statesman of the 
first water, whose noble ideals had won for him the love and respect of 
all good people not only of this country, but of the whole world. 
Driven to an early death by the miserable ingrates of politicians in 
Washington, who were jealous of this wonderful diplomat and his 
noble ideals, and who was happy even in defeat. When he was de- 
feated he simply made these few remarks, which goes to show the 
nobleness of character of our departed ex-president and policeman's 
friend: "I would rather be defeated in a cause that some day will 
triumph, than triumph in a cause that some day will be defeated." 

Woodrow Wilson died a martyr to the cause of freedom to all 
mankind, and his name will go down to posterity as the greatest man 
of his day, and may he rest in peace, for he died as he lived, in peace 
and quiteness. And so it is in most all cases of today, one's character 
is assailed and life is made as hard as it can jx>ssibly be made for 
a fellow, even to the extent of lying about a man for some fancied 
reason or other, and when you have passed away, your enemies creep 
into their holes, chock full of remorse; but it's too late, for after 
breaking one's heart it is impossible to right the wrong. I will quote 
a little song that I learned as a boy, and perhaps it may benefit some 
of those sore heads to learn well its words, although it is a mighty 
hard contract to make black white. 

"Strive then to smile, never be sad, whatever your fortunes may be; 
If we could all bear our sorrows and could but be glad. 
What a wonderful world this would be." 

The great city of Brooklyn was once known as the city of churches, 
but according to the latest reports of the King's County Courts out to- 
day it seems to be a city of crime. Here are a few items from this 
report; read and ponder. "There were 39 done to death, 449 indict- 
ments for larceny, and 203 for robbery, and glory be, 721 of these 
crimesters are citizens, and have been convicted. The Italians come 
next with 139, and so on down the big line with the poor foolish Irish 
in the minority," 

I wonder can it be that the crime wave they have been talking 


about of late has flown over New York, and over to Brooklyn, on its 
way out to sea, and back to where it belongs ? 

That wonderful old amphitheater, Madison Square Gardens, was 
a very busy place on Wednesday, February 6, 1924, a memorable day, 
one that to the most of us will never be forgotten. In the afternoon 
the Wilson Foundation, of which I am a member, held funeral services 
out of respect to our departed leader, "the greatest figure in the world's 
history that has ever arisen from American soil," a man among men, 
and one for whom the bitter rascals in the German Embassy of Wash- 
ington refused to half-mast their flag. 

Old Madison Square Garden did its duty in harboring the twelve 
thousand of good unselfish American citizens there to do honor to our 
hero. "You have gone Woodrow, but, like George Washington, your 
name is engraved into the hearts of us all, peace be to you. It's truly 
can I say, and in so doing I know that I am voicing the heartfelt wishes 
of my brothers and sisters the world over, GONE BUT NOT FOR- 
GOTTEN." Many thanks to the Patrolmen's Benevolent Association 
of New York, for it was they that made it possible for Mr. Tex 
Rickard, the wonderful sport promoter, to give us the use of Madison 

The grand carnival of the P. B. A. was advertised to be held at 
the Garden that evening, and owing to their contract, it was out of 
the question to postpone it, as President Joe Moran told me he wanted 
to do, so that I trust my readers will not feel sore about this unfortunate 
but that could not be helped matter. And here we are again to January 
31, 1925, and the P. B. A. inviting their hosts of friends here again. 
The P. B. A. did hold their grand entertainment that evening, and 
I assure you, dear friends, that it was the greatest carnival of sport 
and of music ever given anywhere of this same character, and I bar 
none. All praise is due President Joseph P. Moran and his staff of 
officers for the wonderful time enjoyed by every one of the fifteen 
thousand men, women, and children present, and when Joe Moran led 
the grand march with his pretty daughter, that set the dancing ball 
a-rolling until early morning. 

Speaking of this beautiful city of ours, and why we New Yorkers 
should be proud, for we hold today most everything that is good, 
particularly Liberty Bonds and they are always good, but we also 
have something that is no good, the grasping hungry landlord; but 
thanks to Governor Smith and his friends there is a muzzle placed 
on them today, for the signing of the Dunnigan Bill will drive those 
robbers back into their hole for another two years. It's mighty good 
that we have such men in power, or, glory be, we, the underdog, 
would very soon have to emigrate to some place, but God knows where. 


I for one want no more emigration or immigration; I tried it once, 
and like our old friend Henry Hudson away back in 1609, finding the 
pickings so good I landed here in 1880, and I have been picking ever 

But I am going Henry Hudson one better; I brought my parents 
here and we are all going to sleep in the same plot in Calvary Cemetery, 
God willin'. If I don't go to jail. But why send an honest man to 
jail when we have so many officials of the government and others buy- 
ing and selling oil stock, getting so rich it is necessary for them to 
quit their jobs, so here we are today drinking the oil scandal at every 
meal, for the newspapers are keeping us well suppHed with oil; but 
it's an oily question anyhow. So instead of closing the jails they might 
be called upon to build a few more, who knows. 

Why, we are so liberal in New York we can even close up the city 
hall and send our mayor on a vacation. Thanks to our police de- 
partment we did try to get along without a mayor in January of 1924, 
and we succeeded. And here we are again in January, 1925, the mayor 
on a vacation, Hulbert out, Collins in. Just imagine, dear readers, here 
we had nine thousand, three hundred and thirty-seven ships enter and 
leave the waters of New York in 1923 ; this broke all previous records. 
But it seems to me that they must be oil tankers, we are doing such a 
land office business in that product, that most every big man is either 
getting rich, losing his job, or going to jail. Is there any wonder that 
Woodrow Wilson cashed in the other day; they oiled him out of 
the White House, broke his heart, putting in another unfortunate man 
to succeed him, and they broke ]\Ir. Harding's heart, and he, too, 
cashed in. Peace be to them both ! 

We old timers of New York often heard of the big four of the 
police department of the early nineties. I speak of Inspector Tom 
Byrnes, Billy McLaughlin, Ed Slevin, and little Dick O'Connor, all of 
them good men and assisted by that clever detective from the East 
Side, Andy Nugent. They, it is well known to us all, never let a 
thing get away from them. Here today we have a case of history 
repeating itself, for we have in New York another wonderful four, 
a much bigger four than any other four either before or after, and I am 
forced to say this because of the much greater population that this 
(big four) are forced to deal with. 

The Big Four of which I speak of are Police Commissioner Richard 
E. Enright and his Police Deputies John Daly, John J, Cray, and Joe 
Faurot. Can you beat them ? Why, no, for they with such well trained 
policemen as Sam Belton and John Coughlin, and Tom Fay, there is 
nothing crooked on God's earth can get away from this bunch. 

Police Commissioner Enright worked very hard to get a separate 


fund of a million dollars together so that the widows and orphans 
of our brothers in uniform who have made the supreme sacrifice shall 
not want. But he feels that it is too much money for him to hold, 
and what is more to their interests will be better safeguarded if this 
money was held by a corporation with Mayor Hylan at the head ; and 
with that thought in mind, the Commissioner has petitioned the Legis- 
lature to pass an act of incorporation, relieving him of the responsi- 
bility. There is no reason why this incorporation should not be granted, 
for to refuse it is not punishing Commissioner Enright, but jeopardizing 
the best interests of the poor widows and orphans. Yes, robbing 
them of the comforts of a few weeks' vacation at the police recreation 
camp in the Catskill Mountains every summer, and it was for that 
very cause that Commissioner Enright is, and has been working, as 
well as to take care of the widows and orphans of the poor unfortunate 
policemen shot down in their prime, having served under ten years in 
the police department and not entitled to a pension. 

Dear friends, we know full well that the people of the whole world 
today are busy talking about New York's third-term governor, the 
Hon. Alfred E. Smith and his great ability and capacity for doing 
things for the best interests of all the people of this, the empire city 
of the world. Alf Smith, a protege of the old fourth ward of Man- 
hattan, has made good. "More power to him," our future president of 
these United States. 

Yes, Sir Thomas Lipton is sounding his praises in England ; Mayor 
Rolph in California; Mayor Dever, of Chicago; and by the way this 
name reminds me very much of one of old New York's greatest poli- 
tical leaders and a true friend of the people ; I speak of ex-Judge Paddy 
Divver, R. I. P., died 1903. Yes, they all are shouting the praises of 
the wonderful east side boy, even to Emma Goldman and big Bill 
Haywood in far-ofT Russia. 

But with all due respect to our wonderful governor, I want to say 
a word or two about the old fourth- ward policeman of my own day, 
the men that I worked with, slept and played with, and we were 
always found fighting side by side when it came to fighting the vile 
creatures of the underworld in bringing them to justice, or in forcing 
them to obey the law. Yes, my friends, they were the happy days in 
the old fourth ward, A. D. before Dr. Parkhurst and his leap-frog 
tactics, when the sailors of the seven seas would find their way to 
either Water, Cherry, Roosevelt, or James street to greet the women 
of their hearts' desire, spend their money with them, and when all was 
gone reship and go get more. 

But since the Parkhurst crusade the poor sailor is as much at sea 
in New York as he would be in the Indian Ocean, for he knows not 


where to go to find his woman, but into some tenement or apartment 
house among decent people, yes, and into some of our first-class hotels, 
and among the nobility on Riverside Drive. The poor unfortunate 
girls ran into every hole, they have to live, and men and women must 
have their pleasures, hence this necessary evil existed in certain quarters 
of this city, and in those quarters only the young man of that day, 
after working hard all week, would visit Wooster or Greene Streets 
or south Fifth Avenue on the west side, Forsyth or Delancey on the 
east, and finish the job and go home happy for another week, but now 
and since the Parkhurst crusade brought about by investigation of the 
Mazet Committee, that wound up like all other investigation com- 
mittees, doing nothing but robbing the state treasury, and destroying 
the good name of little old New York, more's the pity. And not being 
satisfied with that bungling job, along comes William H. Anderson 
and his prohibition fanatics, trying to do the impossible, that is to 
take away the rights and liberties of our good American people. But 
as sure as there is a God in Heaven, Bill Anderson will have to toe 
the line on judgment day, when He who died to save all mankind will 
say, "So, you are the man that thought that you were bigger than the 
master, for the water that I turned into wine at the marriage feast in 
Canaan, you ordered destroyed, while you knew in your heart it was 
an impossibilty." 

Oh, dear old New York, you were once a happy place to live in, 
but now between the bootlegger, the bandit, the petty larceny gunman, 
and the crooked automobile drivers. New York is hell. We would 
not stand for such nonsense in my time on the force, for the moment 
that we found out that a kid wanted to be fresh, we would take him 
down a side street and let him kiss the end of a night stick, or maybe 
kiss the sweet sting of a rubber hose, and he wanted no more glory 
when we got through with him, believe me. 

I recall a remark made by his honor Mayor John F. Hylan to 
the writer, and it came about in this way. In 1918, I was first vice- 
president of the New York Police Veteran Association, and the mayor 
had just appointed to the position of Police Commissioner Lieutenant 
Dick Enright, and I was appointed chairman of a committee to wait 
upon the Mayor and present him with the resolutions of thanks. We 
called upon the Mayor, but first met Grover Whalen, and then the 
Mayor, and the following conversation took place: "I thank you men 
for your kindness, stick to Enright and all will be well, give him all the 
assistance you can, and we will very soon have a clean city." 

"And, say, you old policemen were a great bunch," and "my, how 
you could use that night stick." I answered only when it was neces- 
sary. Mr. Mayor, "Yes, I know that full well, Mr. Rickey, for it 


was you old cops that made New York what it is today, and you ought 
to better compensated by the city." Yes, dear readers, we had our 
day, and we now take a back seat to the men of the present day. 
Yes we take our hats off to them my own sons, and there are three 
of them in the department, included, we wish them good luck. 

While attending the funeral of big-hearted Tom Foley, January 
17, 1925, and meeting with a very few of my old comrades, most of 
them having passed away, and when I met Lieutenant John Glynn, 
Governor Smith's brother-in-law, Jere Mahoney, Jack Adams, Jim 
Reilly, and Benny Malloy, my heart opened and my thoughts flew 
back to many a lively scene in that same old bailiwick some thirty-five 
years ago, when it was every man for himself, for then a cop had 
to fight or get licked. 

On another page you will notice the pictures of these old 4th ward 
coppers both at work and at play, and out of that bunch there are 
very few living today, for on the steps of the station house where this 
picture was taken, there are only four of us living, one of the men, 
Billy Barlow, was killed in the West End Bank robbery, November, 
1924; Eddie Sheehan was killed by a yegg in Chatham Square, and 
Billy Keating was killed on the elevated railroad, so there you go, 
we are here today and away tomorrow. Then why make this rotten 
life worse than it is, and God knows that it is bad enough at the 
best of times. Here we are the richest city in the whole world, and 
its employees the poorest paid, and its pensioners caused to live from 
hand to mouth, and scarcely that in many cases, many of us old police- 
men receiving a pension of six or seven Tiundred dollars a year. I 
ask, what is that to live upon in these days of highway banditry, 
murder and suicide, with many of our boys that killed so many Ger- 
mans in the great war, become so inhuman that they take us all for 
enemies, and they delight to keep on firing; they apparently don't 
want to know that the war is over, and they glory in taking human 
life, God forgive them. 

I would like, if I had the time, to tell you more of these old fourth 
ward coppers that hounded and chased such rufiians as "Jack the 
Ripper" and "Jack the Slasher" in the early nineties until they were 
both brought to justice, and Billy Masterson made a roundsman for the 
capture of the slasher, in which chase and fight Jim McCrory, Ed 
Busteed, and others of us took a prominent part. Oh, boys, but they 
were the stormy days and nights, that brought about the introduction 
of the police whistle. 

Championship Baseball Team of the Police Athletic Association, 1905 — Lieutenant Charley 

Madigan, Manager. 


fe^' * 





Courtesy of Police Magazine 


This Chapter Speaks of the Many Police Organizations, Both 
Benevolent and Social, Their Purpose and Ideals, Giving 
the Names of the Presidents of Each, and What They Are 
Doing in the Interests of Mankind in Particular and 
Humanity in General. Also an Account of the Doings of 
A Captain Charles Schofield and the World's Famous Riot 
Battalion of the Police Department of the City of New 
York, and His Wonderful Staff of Physical Training 
Experts and Drill Masters. Also the Famous Police Band 
AND Glee Club, the Police Recreation Camp and the 
Widows' Retreat Among the Highest Mountains of the 
Catskills, and Other Matter of Importance to My Friends 
OF the Present Day 

There are quite a few organizations connected with the police de- 
partment of today both benevolent and social, each of which are doing 
good work by taking care of the widows and orphans, and providing 
for the social entertainment of its members when off duty. We have 
the Inspectors and Captains' Association with Deputy Chief John 
W. O'Connor, an old-time P.BA. organization man as president, and 
everybody knows that John O'Connor is a good presiding officer, al- 
ways making good. We also have the Lieutenants' Benevolent As- 
sociation, a body that was reorganized and placed on its present solid 
foundation by Lieutenant Dick Enright, who served as president of 
this one great big organization for twelve years ; acting Captain John 
H. Ayers is the present president, and John also is making good. 

We have the Patrolmen's Endowment Association, of which the 
writer was organizer and its first president, and this great organization 
is doing today a remarkable work in providing ease and comfort for 
the member about to retire into private life. We also have the 
Sergeants' Benevolent Association with Major Sergeant Walter Joyce, 
president. Everybody that knows Walter Joyce is well aware of the 
fact that he can prepare a beefsteak and preside over this body of 
good men equal to any old veteran. Sergeant Walter Joyce being 
promoted to lieutenant was succeeded by Mike McDermott as president 
in 1924. 

W^ are also blessed with the Honor Legion, composed of the good 



men of the force who have made many sacrifices in the way of saving 
life, ever and always ready to ofifer up their own sweet lives to save 
others. Martin J. Regan is president with Martin Noonan first vice- 
president, two good men. We also have the Anchor Club, with Frank 
Gregory president. Frank is constantly looking out for the best in- 
terests of the members. Also the Square Club with William J. Noll 
president, another clever young man, constantly making good, both as 
president and entertainer. And we have the P.B.A., the mother 
organization of them all. Yes, the Patrolmen's Benevolent Association 
is the guiding star of them all, leading all others into the prosperity 
of today, with Joseph P. Moran president. We also have the Police 
Qub, and the Hope Fishing Qub, two social and entertaining organi- 
zations that have always made good. And last but not the least we 
have the Holy Name societies of the New York police force, Fathers 
Joseph A. McCaffrey and Lawrence H. Bracken spiritual directors, 
ever willing to attend in sickness or trouble and to give spiritual aid to 
all, Catholic, Protestant, or Hebrew. We are all one big family of 
big brothers and sisters, patrolmen and patrolwomen alike. 

We also have the famous Police Band and Glee Club, both of 
which are under the direct supervision of Lieutenant Patrick Fits- 
gibbons, and this unit of the department is doing wonderful work 
among the sick and distressed; and the New York Police Veteran 
Association, ex-Captain Barney Kelleher, president. We have the 
Patrolwomen's and the PoliceWomen's Association, under separate 
officers, and they, too, are doing good work, caring for their sick and 
burying their dead. Our Hebrew friends of the department also have 
organized, for their own mutual benefit, and they too are going to be 
heard from. Police Chaplain, Dr. Isidore Frank, is delighted with 
his boys, and so would Dr. Blum be if he were alive. Here we stand 
today, a department of brotherly love, believing as we do that in union 
there is strength, one for all and all for one. 

Yes, we have two other wide awake associations, one known as 
the Patrolmen's Wives Association, and another known as the Police 
Widows' Association, and they are both doing wonderful work. "More 
power to them." I met Mrs. Currie and Mrs. Farrell at the P.B.A. 
ball, and they were hustling among the higher ups to help them get 
an increase in pension, for twenty-five dollars per month is not much 
to live on nowadays, and I for one wish them every success in their 
noble fight for life. 

Oh, yes, these organizations are all all right, but what about Captain 
Charley Schofield and his great staff of physical culture professors? 
Oh, boys, but they are wonderful. They take a lot of green men under 
their care today, and next week or so they send the rookies out shooting 


burglars and holdup men. Well, well, it is a great life if you don't 
weaken, and old Cap Schofield, the past master of drilling and putting 
green men over the jumps, is still going stronger and brighter than 
ever. Charley, you are a masterpiece. But God help the poor rookies 
by the time they get through with Sergeants Tom Shaw, Bill Spengler, 
the champion police boxer of the world, and then go over to Sergeant 
Wallander, who, by the way, is compiling a book as a physical expert, 
and Wallander knows the game from A to Z. 

They next have to tackle Sergeant John Randolph, one of my first 
and best wrestling champions of the Police Athletic Association of 
Greater New York in 1905. When through with Champion Johnny 
Randolph they are turned over to get finished off by two other cham- 
pions, Johnny Ruif, and believe me he is a past master, and 
Julius Brilla. And again turned over to Captain Charles for final 
consideration, but Charley Schofield is a good fatherly fellow, and he 
uses them with kid gloves. But, oh, boys, when they get through school, 
they are fit for the field, and many of these same rookies are a credit 
to Captain Charley Schofield, for most every night one reads of a 
rookie catching his man. A-Iore power to you, Charley, stay right on 
the job ; you are too good to lose. We may get your equal, but we will 
never get your betters. 

There's another unit, the fighting riot battalion, composed of a 
thousand of the best fighting men to be found anywhere. They have 
proved it, both on the bloody field of Flanders and everywhere else, 
either with a musket, a night stick, or the bare fists. They are satis- 
fied, so you can take your pick. But, oh, boys, what a grand showing 
they sure can make. I saw them up in the mountains of the Catskills 
last year, and I sure was proud of them. I have traveled over sixty- 
five thousand miles in both America and Europe since retiring from 
the force, but I tell you I never came across a classier unit, with a staff 
of superior officers second to none. 

One of the grandest military reviews ever given by the Honor 
Legion was the one given at the Seventh Regiment Armory, 67th 
Street and Park Avenue, New York City, on the evening of April 
25, 1919. I speak of this particular one because it struck me as being 
the best that the writer has ever had the good fortune of witnessing, 
and he in the position of a reporter for the Civil Service Chronicle, 
have seen many. Drill Captain Jakey Brown and Captain Charles 
Schofield certainly did themselves credit on that occasion, and that 
same remark was made by several army officers present. The Police 
Band and the Police Glee club it must be said also did themselves 
proud on that occasion ; in fact it was one grand night for, after the 
review, the reviewing officer, Governor Alfred E. Smith and staff 


assisted by Mayor John F. Hylan, Police Commissioner Enright, 
General Thomas F. Barry, Commander of the East, the Hon. R. A. C. 
Smith, and Sir Thomas Johnstone Lipton, the world's famous yachts- 
man, and Inspector Adam A. Cross, retired, each of them holding the 
position of honorary Chief of Police of New York City, held a grand 
reception. Lord Reading, the British Ambassador, the Hon. Vincent 
Astor, Lieutenant (S.G.) of the United States Navy, were also present. 
Mr. Astor had just then returned from France with a German sub- 
marine, the U 117. Mr. Astor is an honory member of our Police 
Honor Legion, and on leaving for France he had told the members of 
the legion that he was called upon to go to France to fight Germany, 
the enemy of our beloved country, and that they could rely upon him 
bringing back some good big souvenir in the shape of a German sub- 
marine. "I fulfilled my promise, and I want you good men to be my 
guests aboard her lying in the Hudson River off 86th Street tomorrow 
evening," and the invitation was accepted with three rousing cheers 
for Governor Smith, Mr. Astor, and all of the guests present. Yes, 
and they were some cheers, for I do believe that they could be heard out 
at Sandy Hook. But, taking all and all, that certainly was a glorious 
night because everybody was so happy that the cursed World War was 
over and our boys were returning and congratulating each other at 
the glorious result, but very sorry that they were not allowed to 
march right into the city of Berlin. 

It was thought that when Commissioner Enright gave the depart- 
ment a police clubhouse on Riverside Drive and Sixth Avenue, he was 
doing a wonderful thing for the benefit of the whole department. Yes, 
and privileged us retired men to become members. There is no ques- 
tion about it, it was good work, thanks to the able assistance of the 
Hon. John A. Harriss, Special Duputy Commissioner, who is also, at 
all times, doing something for the benefit of the force. Today New 
York can congratulate herself on being the proud possessor of the 
grandest police club house in the world. 

But that is to me mind but a pea in the bucket to the founding of a 
police recreation camp among the beautiful mountains of the Catskills, 
and when our Police Commissioner took upon himself with the 
assistance of his many good friends to purchase the wonderful "Kaplan 
Estate," he was achieving the greatest good of all. Just imagine a police 
camp one hundred and thirty miles from the heart of New York, of 
five hundred acres and constantly growing, situated at the foot of and 
under the protection of old Indian Head, one of the highest mountains 
in all of this, the Empire State of the world. Situated on the grounds 
are "Mountain Rest," the "Waldorf-Astoria" of the mountains, giving 
lodgings to two hundred and sixty people, with all the coniforts of 


home, cleanliness, electric lights, shower and tub baths, for men and 
women, and to top this off, good eats; a swimming pool, one hundred 
yards long; a lawn tennis court; a golf course; a beautiful quarter 
mile track, one of the finest in the country, and a baseball diamond 
second to none; drill and playgrounds for the children, with Mrs. 
Richard E. Enright and staff consisting of Mrs. Loft, Mrs. Hammil- 
ton, Mrs. Larkin, Miss West, and others playing lady bountiful. A 
large reinforced concrete dam, holding 270,000 gallons of water, fed 
by mountain springs, furnishes an abundance of absolutely pure spring 
water for all the purposes of the camp. 

I could just keep on writing of the many means of pleasure that this 
great police camp holds out to the men, women, and children of the 
police force, not forgetting the fact that on the grounds is built a 
beautiful stone church to be used by all denominations, for mass and 
services on Sundays and holy days, and a rural post office delivery every 
day, connected with the Elka Park post office of that center. Elka Park 
is about four miles from the camp and is a residential colony for many 
rich retired Germans, and I presume the future home of old Kaiser 
Bill if ever he gets past Castle Garden. 

The camp is self-supporting, as each person enjoying its privileges 
pays for his eats, and that is all that is asked. But from a private 
fund of donations from its stockholders, all disabled members of the 
force are permitted to board there free of any charges. And one of the 
greatest blessings of all mankind is the fact that Commissioner Enright, 
who is forever and always keeping a fatherly eye on the widow and 
orphan, sees to it that the widows and families of all of our brave 
heroes who have been cut down in the heyday of sunshine, either by 
the bullet of the assassin or in some other manner while discharging 
their duty, are taken from their homes in the best cars of the depart- 
ment and landed at the camp, there to enjoy its comforts for three 
weeks, and then taken home in the same manner as when going to the 
camp. And these poor unfortunate women and their families are not 
taxed one cent for all of this pleasure and comfort each year. Super- 
intendent William T. Davies in command of all. 

Now, dear readers, I ask again, is Commissioner Enright a grafter 
or is he a bootlegger? H — 1 to the souls of those of his enemies, they 
never did a charitable act of this kind in the whole of their natural lives. 
But let us rejoice that with all of their barkings and bowlings, Dick 
Enright keeps right on always with an eye on the gun, and constantly 
working on some new project for the benefit of his department in 
particular and the world in general, and on top of all he is continuing 
to grow better looking every day. "Hail to the Chief." 

The board of directors under the Hon, R. A. C. Smith are making 


great changes for the best, a building of five hundred rooms. But we 
must not forget that Mrs. R. E. Enright is not idle; this grand lady 
with such a pleasing personality is the "Miss Nightingale" of the police 
department, working very hard both early and late to add to the 
comforts of all, and with the assistance of her landscape artist they 
get there every time in adding beauty to this lovely camp, the sleeping 
place of "Rip Van Winkle." 

I don't know of any other man, either in New York or any other 
city, who could do more for the best interests of the taxpayers than 
Commissioner Enright, for he is constantly looking and working to 
improve conditions, and that's the best that any man can do. Do not 
be misled or carried away with all the trash that you read in the 
newspapers ; they don't at all times print the truth and you know just 
as well as I do that in every city, large or small, there is to be found a 
bunch of self-advertised men who are fortunate enough to get in touch 
with a darn good press agent. One cannot blame the boob of a press 
agent so much, for he is looking to secure his meal ticket or starve, 
because he doesn't possess the nerve to become a burglar; he is just 
built both frail and sneaky enough for ^ his dirty job of stealing men's 
characters and pocketbooks if he gets a chance. Did you read the 
testimony of Tex Rickard and Peggy Joyce in the Brevities Case? I 
was present at a dinner of the Business Men's League not long ago 
and I heard his Honor, the Mayor, make the following remark : "The 
Police Department of New York is better managed today than under 
any other management since Tom Byrnes's time." 

I will take the liberty of saying yes or at any old time, for there 
is no time in the history of the city of New York that our avenues and 
streets were, kept so clean of fallen women, bunko steerers, pocket- 
book droppers, panhandlers, green goods men, in fact of all vices, 
houses of prostitution in particular, I am speaking my mind as an 
old New York policeman, one that has seen both sides of life, for I 
worked as a cop under Tom Byrnes. When you take into considera- 
tion the small population, the small city, and of course the small police 
force, of Tom Byrnes's time, it is remarkable the good work of the 
present administration. Far be it from me that I would attempt to 
take any glory from the late Inspector Tom Byrnes or any other man 
who is on the level, moreover the dead, for I hold in my heart a great 
reverence for the souls departed, but the truth must and will be told, 
and credit given to those to whom it is due. 

The Mayor went on to say : "I know that I am talking to hard- 
headed business men, but I defy any of you to prove that we have not 
progressed more during our administration in every department of 
the city than we have done under any other two administrations before 


I became your Mayor." And it goes without saying there was not one 
present to take up this challenge, not that they had any reason whatso- 
ever to fear the Mayor, for they were the very men that made our 
Mayor. But I do know this much thaat there were inany present 
who thoroughly agreed with the Mayor, And could you blame them? 
The records prove all, but worse luck, there are none so blind as they 
that don't want to see. 

That same evening, the newspapermen gathered around Police 
Commissioner Enright and asked a whole lot of questions, among 
which were many in relation to the doing away with the old police 
station houses that had for such a long period of years outlived their 
usefulness, and the following replies were made by the Commissioner : 

"I have saved the city the upkeep of those station houses or 
pest holes so that the city can sell, lease, or rent the property and have 
taxes paid on same instead of spending the city's good money on light 
and fuel. I have saved money by selling inadequate houses and con- 
solidating the precincts, thereby cutting down overhead expenses of at 
least fifty thousand dollars per year, the salary of a police captain, four 
lieutenants, and four sergeants, also a clerk that is attached to all 
station houses in the city. I have taken the patrolmen from one station 
house that is doing nothing, and assigned them to the precincts that 
are and have been so much in need of men, so that they will give 
better service and in the end be much better men, far better than ever 
before and at a much less expense. There is not so much need for these 
station houses today as in the past. Take the Bowery, for instance. 
Why that old landmark is as quiet today as any churchyard, either by 
night or by day, just go and see for yourselves. Good night." 

From an old policeman's point of view, it was a good thing to wipe 
out those old station houses, many of them standing since the time of 
"Noah's Ark.'' I remember some thirty years ago that that grand old 
police surgeon, now in retirement, but who comes out of retirement to 
save a man's life occasionally, Dr. Charles E. Nammack, condemmed 
the Oak Street station house, for several of us men were forced to 
report sick, and one, detective John O'Neill, died. 

In the fall of 1923 and the spring of 1924 Fifth Deputy Com- 
missioner William Gillispie worked very hard to improve the camp for 
the coming season. Building new bungalows and making many im- 
provements for the best interests of all that propose to enjoy the 
comforts of same next summer, and among other improvements is a 
staff of waitresses that he is engaging so as to do away with the self- 
service system now in force. This point alone is a wonderful change, 
providing that everybody going up to the camp will be on the level 


and wait their turn to be served and not worry the waitresses, or ask 
for prior services over those in waiting. This beautiful recreation 
camp is established for all, and not for one particular person or party, 
please remember this, and if you cannot do anything to improve this 
beautiful camp, please do not do anything to its disadvantage, either 
by word or deed. This is the earnest desire and request of your Police 
Commissioner, he that has worked so hard and done so much to estab- 
lish this beautiful camp for the enjoyment of you and your families, 
so if you don't feel like boosting, please don't knock. 

You know what Police Commissioner Bingham once said of Police 
Commissioner Enright, when Dick was just a plain ordinary everyday 
lieutenant of police, "Why that's the brainiest man on the police force 
today. In any other business he would be worth a salary of twenty 
thousand dollars a year, but not in the police department. Why if that 
fellow don't die then Gol darn it, Enright will own this department 
sooner or later." (Some prophet, what?) 

Yes, dear readers, General Bingham was right, and Dick Enright 
is no longer a doormat for any man or men ; he is our boss today, and 
he wants you and your families to enjoy that which General Bingham, 
or any commissioner ever thought of giving you, and that is ease and 
comfort, so stick to your Commissioner and help him make good, either 
at the police camp or elsewhere. 

In 1904, Charley Price, the old police headquarters reporter wrote 
a very long letter for the press, and this was the headline: 

The Police Department is Entirely Demoralized. 

"The Shoofly" system has so upset the patrolmen on post, that they 
are unable to watch the lawbreaker, they are simply watching for these 

You don't have to do that today, men, and why, simply because you 
have a Police Commissioner that understands human nature ; then 
stand by him. 


This Chapter Is More or Less a Chapter of Trials and Tribula- 
tions. It Tells the Old Story of the Bigger Man Oppress- 
ing the Smaller One, the Weak Mortal Fighting His 
Stronger Brother. A Chapter of Incidents, as It Were, 
That May Be Read and Passed upon^ or Set to One Side. 
You Are the Best Judges of That, My Friends 

The newspapers of today, January 22, 1924, are publishing the story 
that the taxpayers' suit against Chief of Police William J. Lahey, be- 
fore Supreme Court Justice Isidor Wasservogel, was taken up yester- 
day and the taxpayers won their case. The following rem.arks were 
made by Justice Wasservogel, in deciding the case: That in accepting 
the post of Deputy Police Commissioner in 1918 Lahey relinquished his 
connection with the uniformed force and was not eligible to be taken 
back when he was appointed chief inspector. The suit was instituted 
by William J. Schiefifelin, head of the Citizens Union, Leonard 
Wallstein, attorney of record. I have no fault to find with Mr. 
Schieffelin for bringing the suit, he is master of his own acts and is 
within his rights as a taxpayer. Nor do I hold any brief for Chief of 
Police Lahey, but I will say this, that to my mind the decision was very 
unfair, for the following reasons : 

Chief Lahey, the storm center of many police rows, but not of his 
own seeking or volition, is and has been a faithful servant as a member 
of the police department of this city some thirty years, paying into the 
police pension fund two per cent of his salary, which by all laws and 
rulings give to him a vested right; and simply because, he like all 
good policemen, obeys the orders of his superior in leaving the position 
of police inspector to take over a higher office, he is to lose his job. It 
is a well-known fact that if a member of the police, or in fact any 
other position, refuses to obey the orders of his superior, then he must 
answer a charge of insubordination, and on conviction be dismissed 
from the force. Let me ask, what is a man to do under such cir- 
cumstances ? I am glad to hear that the case is to be thrashed out 
before the Court of Appeals, or the Legislature of the State, we the 
citizens of New York are to be considered and we must have a ruling. 

I cannot understand why a policeman should be promoted from the 
ranks and not be able to pick the men of the department whom he 



knows by experience can assist him to run the department on police 
lines, and that is for the bettermen of the city and its taxpayers. And 
if one will read the police report of 1923, and other years, then he will 
be well satisfied with the good work performed by these same men. 

Dear readers, it is a mighty hard pill to swallow to think that after 
spending the best part of your life connected with any concern, more- 
over the police department, raising yourself by your good conduct to a 
high position, and then on a simple technicality, lose all. Is that 
justice? The writer of this work knows full well the injustice of such 
a case, for he, too, was a victim of another such a case, and to show to 
the world that I have nothing to be ashamed of, I will lay the whole 
case before you. 

Surely there are some amongst us who still have some sympathy 
left in our hearts for a fellow creature; if there are not then it is a 
cold, cold world, and I for one will have no regrets when our Divine 
Redeemer in his wisdom and judgment calls upon me to cross the great 
divide. I can assure you that I, for one, am tired of the hard knocks 
one gets battling for a living in this miserable world, and it is not so 
much for one's self as it is for the poor woman that he made his wife, 
and the poor simple children that God sends one to provide for. That 
is the hardest pain of all, to see those angels suffer for a bit to eat, 
and a bed to sleep on, when Daddy unfortunately loses his job, by no 
fault of his own, or a knowing injustice on his part. I have been 
through the mill for I lost my job, with a good wife and ten kiddies, 
seven of whom are living today and a credit to me, and as good as the 
thousands of other fine citizens of this great commonwealth. But 
the mother was driven to her death by a broken heart, going to sleep 
the sleep of peace in the fond embrace of the three children who had 
gone before her, peace be to them all. 

Please do not think that because I am writing this confession, or, as 
I take it, a heart to heart talk, that I am looking for sympathy. I want 
no sympathy, for that will not bring back to me the joys that I was 
robbed of, namely a good wife and a good position. I have slept on 
both sides of the hard plank, and have roughed it all my life, and have 
often been forced to fight for my existence, and that often before 
breakfast mornings, in my early days in this lovely city, following 
the career of a New York longshoreman, working early and late along 
the river fronts of New York, Brooklyn, and Jersey, and then to get 
a good job only to lose it by an unfortunate piece of underhanded 
work of the political bums of New York of forty years ago, for this is 
how it happened. I was born of a poor but honest mother and father, 
and of course like the good old Irish of the past my parents had a 
large family. They did not consult the hideous books of the present 


day, such as birth control ; they were satisfied to welcome all that God 
sent, and we were raised to do likewise, and that is just the reason 
that one will find so many of my name and blood in both New York 
and Brooklyn, yes and elsewhere. 

Knowing the condition of things at home, I said, "Say, dad, you 
can't do for all of us, you are not getting a square deal with the little 
wage that you are getting. It's only enough to keep yourself and 
mother, so I am going away where to at present I know not.'' 

After three attempts I succeeded in getting a passage to America. 
Bidding my family good-by I sailed for New York, and like thousands 
of America's best citizens I landed at Castle Garden with just fifty 
cents in my pocket, but a thousand dollars worth of joy in my heart, 
to think that I was the pioneer of the Hickey family, landing in this 
great city. 

I wanted very much to go to New Zealand to join the Cape Mounted 
Rifles, a unit of the British army, but my dear old mother and father 
would say, "No, Johnny my boy, no son of ours will ever join the 
English army, bad luck to them." And after the third attempt I 
sailed for America from Queenstown harbor. County Cork, Ireland, on 
the good ship Erin of the old National Line May 11th, arriving in 
New York May 29, 1881, a poor simple omadaun with just fifty cents 
in my clothes, on that never to be forgotten eventful long musical 
happy night. This being Decoration Day eve, there was lots of music 
flying through the air, and I commenced to congratulate myself in 
arriving in such a grand musical country, but lo and behold, after 
Decoration Day, I did not hear any more music for most another 

I passed through Castle Garden next day and walked up Broad- 
way, and it was here that I received my second surprise, for by the 
holy St. Jack stones I saw, as I imagined, everybody running to a fire, 
so I said to a young man outside of the old Washington Building, 
No. 1 Broadway, "Say, matey, where's the fire?" "Why, there is no 
fire, everybody runs that way here, and you will soon be running your- 
self if you are going to stay in New York," and believe me he said a 
mouthful for I started in then and am still running. 

I recall a story of an English professor visiting America for the 
first time, and on his return he was asked what he thought of America 
and her people. Professor Arnold laughed outright and said, "My dear 
friends, the people of America are all right, but they have one drawback 
that I don't like, they are at all times running as if to a fire." Yes, 
by Jove, it reminds me of a person born a half hour behind his time 
and is constantly running to overtake the time lost. And that's me, 
I learned to become a first-class athlete by rtmning away from the 


pocketbook dropper and the bunco steerer and con man of the old 
Bowery. No, I will never go there any more. 

But I was reminded of the promise to my parents on leaving home, 
that I would work hard both night and day to bring them over, and 
with that happy thought in my noodle, I gave up tending bar among the 
nanny and billy goats and pirates of good old Cork Row, Cherry 
Street, New York, to go alongshore because there was more money 
into it, and I scurried around the beaches of New York early every 
morning to get a job, for if there was no ship in New York then I would 
hustle over to Brooklyn or along the Jersey coast. And I am proud to 
say that in one year and six months I had paid the passage of my 
mother, father, three brothers, and three sisters, and then after pro- 
viding a home for them I married a beautiful Irish queen Mary K. 
Ward of Cookstown County, Tyrone, Ireland, may the heavens be her 
bed today. 

Mary Ward Hickey became the proud mother of my ten children, 
jfive boys and fire girls, and I thank God today that I can boast of 
three sons in the police department, two daughters married to police- 
men, and myself after my long years of service living on a pension from 
the police department, taking things easy and for pastime writing 
books for publication. I was forced to work both day and night for 
the first few years, but having fulfilled my promise to my dear ones, I 
took things easy, working a night now and then, but every day, provid- 
ing I was lucky, with no strikes to keep me down, and we had a few of 
them to. As I have always said, one never wins a strike because he 
loses so much before winning that he is impoverished starting in again. 
And well I know it as we suffered our dose all right in the longshore- 
men's strike of 1886, lasting twenty-five weeks, only to lose, which was 
most trying, but such is fate even old man "Bonaparte," met with a 
greater defeat in Moscow. So after that terrible lay-off in 1886, I 
came to the conclusion that I must move the boat, joined several or- 
ganizations both social and benevolent I soon became a regular fellow, 
yes a full fledged citizen of these United States. Who could ask more? 

I will ask your indulgence to go back a few years. After I was in 
New York for a few months I learned that to get anywhere in 
America one must become a citizen, and I went at once and 
declared my intentions of becoming a citizen, and waited and 
waited, and at last the time arrived and a fellow down in City Hall 
Park, one of the political loungers, asked me for two dollars and he 
would get me my papers. Gee, but I was happy, I was so happy to 
think that I was a citizen that I would not call, "finn mc cool," my 
uncle. That was just before the election of 1886, and I was proud to 
say that I could cast my first vote, and this is how I cast it. I 


remember about that time an Edward L. Carey who was in after years 
one of my vouchers for the police force; Grover Whalen's dad was 
the other. I met both at chib meetings. Ed Carey was at the head 
of the Ancient Order of Hibernians, and he had called on Mayor 
Hewitt and asked to have the Irish flag floated over the City Hall on 
St. Patrick's day. That was when the parade started at the City Hall, 
but the Mayor refused point blank. Holy gee, you should have seen 
the Irish in New York that election. Many of them had voted for 
Hewitt before, as County Democracy Democrats, but never again, 
they were out for Hewitt's scalp, and if the machine was worked as 
it should be Hewitt was a beaten man, and there is no question about it. 

I was President of the Sarsfield Protective Benevolent Association, 
with four hundred and fifty members, and I had every man jack of them 
out marching in battle array for a whole week before election. We 
voted Henry George, as United Labor men, but had we known Teddy 
Roosevelt then we would have voted for him, and surely defeated 
Hewitt and his machine. But just notice how Mr. Roosevelt got 
hunk in after years, of course he didn't know me or the sky over 
me at that time, but my, how fate will work its good and bad deeds. 

Well I had tried several professions but I had to go back to long- 
shore work again, as there was more money at that game than any other, 
and as our kiddies were coming along one every year or so, I had to 
get money. So, in 1889, a Mr. Pape, counselor at law, our landlady's 
son, came to my house and said to me in the presence of my wife, 
"Mr. Hickey, my mother and myself have been talking of your getting 
a better position than what you have, and if you will make an appli- 
cation for the police, I am sure that I can have you appointed." 

These "Reminiscences" are a pleasure to me, and I hope they are 
the same to my readers. I said, "Mr. Pape, I thank both your mother 
and yourself, but my education is not what it should be, so I am 
afraid I would fail." Mr. Pape answered me in these words, "Mr. 
Hickey, one don't know what he can do until he tries. You make the 
application, and while same is pending I will give you some home 
studies, and no doubt Bryan Riley next door will give you some more 
instructions." I thanked Mr. Pape, and followed out his instructions 
to the letter. I informed Mr. Riley, who, by the way, is the nephew 
of Bryan Riley, an old-time alderman of this city, and himself then a 
school teacher. Today young Bryan Riley is a principal of a public 
school in Brooklyn. 

I was very strong and active physically, so that what I lacked in 
mentality, I gained physically. I passed the examinations and my name 
was put on the eligible list for appointment, and I waited a year for 
the result. Another unfortunate incident then occurred in the following 


manner: It came to pass that Mr. Pape had called upon the then 
president of the police board, Commissioner Charles F. McLean, and 
he promised to appoint me. Sometime after, Mr. Pape met me going 
to work, and he said, "Mr. Hickey, why did you not answer your call 
to police headquarters for appointment." "Why," I said, "Mr. Pape, 
this is a great surprise to me, I never received any notice or I surely 
would have been on the job." "Well," he answered, "Mr. Ryan, 
Commissioner McLean's secretary, told me today that you were sent for, 
but did not appear." This was an awful blow to me, so I went out to 
do a little detective work and found out that by a little manipulating 
at police headquarters that my notice was sent to another Hickey on 
the list. This man was married into the family of a big politician in 
the city, and he received my appointment, and I had to keep on working 
alongshore much longer than I should have done. And when my time 
had come for appointment, Commissioner McLean refused to appoint 
me because I would have been thirty years of age before my probation 
was at an end. The commissioner had made it a rule not to appoint 
any man who was thirty years of age or over, although the law at that 
time called for thirty-five years. Gee, I had trouble getting on and 
trouble getting ofif the force, but thank heaven, there were two good 
friends of mine at the big building, police headquarters, that day, 
Senator Edward F. Reilly and Alderman Andrew A. Noonan, both 
members of Court Conran of the Order of Foresters, of which I was 
presiding officer, so that I was appointed that day after all. 

I went along in good shape, getting into trouble every now and 
again like all good cops, and meeting with several accidents, the painful 
injuries of which caused my retirement, the efiFects of which I do today, 
and will for all time, sufifer great pain. But what I am leading up to 
is this, just before I retired there was an order read from the desk to 
the efifect that all members of the force of foreign birth must leave 
their citizenship papers on the desk on or before six p.m., August 6th, 
1906, and by the way it was my birthday as I was born August 6, 1860. 
Lieutenant John Glynn, Governor Smith's brother-in-law, was in charge 
of the desk. Well I went home to supper that night and looked up my 
papers, laid them on the desk, and thought no more about them until 
some time later I was called to the U. S. Conmiissioner's office, in the 
post office building, to answer a lot of questions, the answers of which 
did not suit. I was placed under arrest and called before the late 
Judge Chatfield, one of the finest men that ever drew the breath of 
life, peace be to him. So that after appearing in court six or seven 
times and being in conference with District Attorney Stimson and his 
staflf for several hours, I was again hailed before Judge Chatfield and 


I shall never forget the remarks of that grand man, "Mr. Hickey, 
on the recommendation of the District Attorney, the indictment against 
you is dismissed." Stooping over and shaking my hand, he said, "Go 
your way and good luck to you, you never should have been brought 
here. Good-bye." I am now doing jury duty in that same court, is that 
making good ? So you see my friends I, too, was a victim of a clerical 
error, this man that I met in City Hall Park being so anxious to make 
a couple of dollars was responsible for my trouble more than twenty 
years after. And while all of this case was going on, I was forced to 
give up my work as I could not do proper patrol of eight long hours 
with shooflies on every corner of the streets, and my leg bleeding from 
varicose ulcers that came about from the spraining of my left ankle on 
the morning of New Year's, 1891, driving back the crowds at the City 
Hall steps that morning. So I was ordered before the board of 
surgeons and examined, and on the recommendation of that board that 
I be retired on full pension. Commissioner Bingham placed my name 
on the retired list and I am doing the best I can living on a pension of 
seven hundred dollars per year; not much, but I thank God that I 
have that itself. I cannot stand on my legs but a few hours so that 
I cannot accept any other position ; but I have never been called upon 
to ask assistance of any one, or thank God will I, however long or 
short I may live, hope never to be without a dollar. 

But now comes the saddest part of it all. Several months after my 
retirement Police Commissioner Bingham heard of my trouble with 
the Federal authorities, and he at once ordered my pension stopped, 
and it was held up for nine months, until taken before a Supreme 
Court Justice who decided the case in my favor, with the following 
remarks: Part I, Supreme Court, October 15, 1907. In the case of 
Hickey vs Bingham, the Hon. Justice John Ford decided, "That a 
power once exercised is gone forever, and I doubt if you can review a 
judicial determination of your predecessor or yourself. Especially in a 
case where vested rights have intervened, I thereby grant the motion 
as requested, and order the Police Commissioner to pay to John J. 
Hickey all back pension monies, amounting to four hundred and 
twenty-three dollars, also the cost of the court, in the sum of fifty 
dollars. This money was paid by Police Commissioner Bingham to 
me. He said, "Damn it, Hickey, you are the first man that I ever had 
to go down into my own pocketbook to pay." I answered, "It is your 
own fault. Commissioner. You took away my bread and butter and 
you have starved my wife and children for the past nine months." 
The General replied, "Damn it all, Hickey, I am sorry, I did not know 
anything of your case. Good-bye." 

There was my life's work gone owing to my injuries, and this 


cursed case in the Federal Court, and when forced to retire my name 
was on the eligible list for roundsman, so you see I had very bright 
prospects before me, and if kind fortune had not knocked at my door 
so hard, I might today be the proudest man in New York, blessed with 
a good home, a happy wife, and a high position in the police depart- 
ment, for I had civil service well studied, and with my education much 
improved, and that with my practical knowledge of long service, I 
no doubt might today be a credit to my many friends and my big 
family. But what's the use of worrying at my age. I thank God I am 
as I am ; I never did a wrong knowingly to any man, so why should any 
man do me wrong ; this world is big enough for all, and instead of being 
lambs in wolf's clothing, we should be more like brothers, forever 
holding out the right hand of good fellowship to all mankind, making 
this unfortunate world a much better place to live in. 

I promised to tell you, dear readers, where the late Colonel Roose- 
velt first came into my life. It was while President Roosevelt ruled 
supreme in Washington that the department of justice was ordered to 
look up the citizenship of the members of the police department of this 
city, commencing in the first inspection district, the Battery to 14th 
Street. I was then working in the old fourth, now the fifth, precinct, 
No. 9 Oak Street, hence I was unfortunate to be caught in the first 
bunch of foreigners. But when my case was presented to President 
Roosevelt, he was very sorry to know that J. J. Hickey, the father of 
ten children, was caught in his net, and President Roosevelt requested 
his, and my friends, to do all that they could for Hickey. Now here is 
the standing of my case. If I had committed any crime some twenty- 
five years before that, then my case would be outlawed, and "Latches" 
would have set in. And again if I was aware of any discrepancies in 
my papers, then all that I had to do was to ask for a transfer to be 
near my home, and that was the fifteenth district at that time, I being 
forced to move from Yorkville to Sheepshead Bay to save the life 
of my dear wife who had suffered so much in her last two confinements. 

And be it known to all men present, that after the mix up they 
made in the case of J. J. Hickey, the investigation was stopped, so that 
this poor sucker and his wife and family were the sufferers, God forgive 
my enemies. It was not my intention to ever speak of this case; I 
expected to carry my pitiful story to the grave with me, but reading of 
people in high position today who are placed almost in the same boat 
as I was, that is to say, they too are called upon to give up the position 
that they had worked so hard some thirty years or more to obtain, I 
could no longer remain silent. Knowing Chief Lahey and the other 
good policemen also connected in the case, I could not but tell my story, 
as I have nothing to fear, I being fully satisfied that I have suffered 

Chief Inspector. 

Former Chief Inspector. 


Acting Inspector, Detective 



Acting Lieutenant, Leader of 

Band and Glee Club. 



enough, and I leave myself now in the hands of my maker. He is the 
best judge. 

But even with all of that, mistakes and persecutions still continued 
to follow me, and here are the particulars. I publish this little story 
as a lasting remembrance of thanks for the kindness of one of the 
principals in this present case before the bar, namely. Counselor Leon- 
ard Wallstein. I did the best a poor man could do to give my children 
a decent education, and I placed two of my sons in, as I thought; the 
best position going at that time, that is Civil Service. I had each of 
them take an examination for the position of first grade clerk. They 
were appointed, Thomas, the eldest, in the office of the corporation 
counsel, or law department, and Timothy in the tenement house depart- 
ment of New York City. In 1917, after America's entry into the late 
great World War, and when our President was calling for young men 
to volunteer to fight for their country, and needing men badly, my son 
Thomas enlisted. He was but nineteen years old at the time when 
he left his desk for lunch but not to eat, before he had signed up to 
fight. He asked and was given a leave of absence and joined his 
regiment to do or die wherever duty called him, remaining with his 
outfit two years and a half. 

My son had enlisted on May 8th, but could not leave until his leave 
of absence was granted by Commissioner Arthur Woods. The leave 
being granted my son joined the colors May 16, 1917, and the next few 
days saw him marching in full uniform aboard ship for overseas. It 
so happened that the late John P. Mitchel, then Mayor, had issued 
an order dated May 10th, that no member of the city service could 
enlist without first obtaining his, the Mayor's, consent. This order 
was not generally known until my son had left, and the fact that he 
had enlisted on May 8th, two days before this order was issued, led me 
to believe that his position was safe for him if he ever returned. But 
lo and behold, I was thunderstruck to receive a letter from my son 
reading as follows, 'Dear Dad. I am in receipt of a letter from the 
office and enclosed is a resignation blank for me to sign, and forward 
to the office of Deputy Police Commissioner Godley, forthwith." 

Well it goes without saying, my son did not sign away his hard- 
earned position, and he lived to return, and thanks to Mr, Wallstein, 
my son is back at his desk and doing well. Of course we would all 
like to be in a position to do better. Tom is married and has just 
been blessed with a big bouncing daughter, and his dad is stopping 
with him for the present, but my heart is in little old New York, 
where I hope soon to return, with all due respect to Brooklyn. I 
want to live in the limelight, I will be in darkness, long enough after 


I am gone. I believe as Governor Smith believes, and that is, that 
Brooklyn is a good place to sleep in. — Good night. 

I will now relate to you, dear readers, how I first came to meet Mr. 
Leonard Wallstein. I wrote the Mayor, and did not forget to speak 
my mind in relation to the injustice in the matter of my son's posi- 
tion, and I received an answer to my letter, and, to use a common 
phrase, "passing the buck." But I am glad he did, or I would never 
have met Mr. Wallstein. I was informed that the matter was no 
longer in the hands of the Mayor, but in the hands of an advisory 
committee, appointed by the Mayor. The next puzzle was to find 
out where this committee met, and who was the chairman of same. 
Some contract ! 

After weeks of search, I consulted my friend, Henry H. Curran, 
the present Commissioner of Emigration. I wrote to the chairman of 
the committee, whom I learned was Mr. Wallstein, at that time a 
perfect stranger to me. I recited the whole story of my son's case in 
a letter to Mr. Wallstein, closing with the question, "Do you think 
that justice, Commissioner?" Mr. Wallstein wrote me back, "I have 
taken up the case of your son with the Advisory Board, and I am 
pleased to say that your son's position will be all right on his return." 

Let me ask you, my fair-minded readers, supposing that my son 
had without consulting his father returned that resignation blank all 
signed up, his job would have been gone forever, because of all other 
men in public life, John Purroy Mitchel would never reverse himself. 

I learned to know the late mayor and study up his character. We 
were both members of a prominent Irish society of this city, and I 
there learned to know John, as I knew his father and his patriotic old 
grandfather. They were all stern and painted with the same brush of 
determination. They are all of them dead and with their maker today, 
peace be to them. 

But I hope that I won't have to say a prayer for Leonard Wallstein 
and my thousands of other good friends for many years to come. And 
in closing these remarks, or to be frank, my confession, I wish to all 
of my dear friends in particular, and humanity in general, a happy 
and prosperous New Year, coupled with the following slogan : 
"live and let live." 

While connected with the police department of this great city I ran 
into many celebrated characters, both international and otherwise, for 
I was never so foolish as to let an opportunity pass me by, and hence 
the many letters, autographs, and friends, both here and abroad, from 
such people as the following personages, to wit : King George of 
England, the Prince of Wales, King Albert of Belgium, Presidents 


of these United States — the Hon. Woodrow Wilson and Theodore 
Roosevelt, receiving nine letters from the late Colonel, among them the 
last letter that the good old Colonel ever wrote, November, 1918, and 
died January 6, 1919, peace be to them all. Four of those letters are 
today on exhibition in the Roosevelt House on East 20th Street near 

I also hold letters from such noble heroes of the late great war 
as General John J. Pershing, Commander in Chief of our American 
forces on the bloody battlefields of Flanders, also from General Doug- 
las Haig, Commander in Chief of the British Forces in Flanders, 
Major Henry H. Cur ran of the Third Ammunition Corps, all from the 
fields of battle. 

A police favor of little or no importance, in 1903, brought about 
the life long friendships between Sir Thomas Lipton and the writer, 
Governor Alfred E. Smith, and many more notables among whom were 
the late John E. Redmond, the Irish leader, and successor to the late 
Charles Stewart Parnell, peace be to him, and all our departed. 

Now, my dear friends, I will leave you to read all the nice things that 
Mr. Joe Mitchell Chappie, the very able editor of the International 
Police Magazine, wrote about the author, and reprinted by the courtesy 
of Mr. Chappie. 

Veteran New York Policeman Numbers Many 
Notable People Among His Friends 

An impressive scene of loyalty and comradeship in the Police De- 
partment of New York was evidenced when Commissioner Enright at 
a public dinner brought forward the veteran John J. Hickey, sixty-four 
years old, and insisted that he owed much to the man who first took 
him out on his beat as a young cop. 

In return, John Hickey insisted that young Dick Enright was a 
bright young man who took himself out when assigned to the old 
Fourth, now the Fifth Precinct. "It was my lot to have this bright 
young fellow assigned to me while he was on probation. Every night 
when out on patrol, either on Cherry Hill or Park Row, which were 
busy posts in those days, I led the young cop a lively pace — and he was 
always two lengths ahead of me." 

The old veteran continued in his enthusiasm : "Young Enright was 
wonderfully good natured, but he asked too many questions for an old 
veteran to ariswer, who was in a hurry to get home to his family of eight 
children. He asked many questions relating to the Penal Code and 
Ordinances that I could not answer. 

"One evening when standing outside of the Press Club I said, 


'See here, young fellow, for God's sake give me a rest. If you continue 
to ask so many questions, why, some day you will be the Police 

"Little did I think then that the prophecy would come true in 
1918, and that we would have a Commissioner not equaled in any 
other city in the world." 

After his thirty days' probation Patrolman Enright was appointed 
a full-fledged policeman by Col. Theodore Roosevelt, then Police Com- 
missioner, and was assigned to a Precinct in the Bronx. Later Com- 
missioner Enright finds his headquarters where he had assumed his 
first full fledged responsibilities, replaced with one of the best police 
buildings in New York. 

Truly John Hickey was a real schoolmaster, and the friendship be- 
tween them continued uninterrupted through the years. He has in his 
possession as a gift from Commissioner Enright, the identical "night 
stick" that he carried on Cherry Hill when it took a courageous young 
man to be a patrolman in "the bloody Fourth Ward." 

"Patrolmen were not keen on going out with probationers in those 
days, but how that fellow could just keep on talking about history, 
books, religion and politics and — Irish history. He is the only man 
that I was ever with who made me wish that the nights were longer, for 
the hours flew by swiftly in such company." 

He addressed the Commissioner as "my old pal, Officer 4020," 
and signed himself as "Officer 787." 

During those days John Hickey was winning medals in athletic 
contests. He is the champion long distance runner of the Police force, 
charter member and past president of the Police Athletic Association of . 
Greater New York ; a member of the Patrolmen's Benevolent Associa- 
tion and the Patrolmen's Endowment Association, Past Regent of 
Royal Arcanum, Past Chief Ranger of the Foresters of America, a 
member of the Board of Directors of the Holy Name Society of New 
York, and a member of the Police Club, but the greatest distinction 
of all, he insists, is the fact that he is a friend of Dick Enright. 

Sir Thomas Lipton for over twenty-five years has always found 
his way to greet John J. Hickey, and no matter in what part of the 
globe Sir Thomas may be, he remembers the patrolman whom he met 
in New York many years ago. 

Governor Al Smith, the boy born in the Bowery, does not forget 
John Hickey either. 

John Hickey has written four books. One is dedicated to Com- 
missioner Enright; one to Gov. Al Smith and one to Sir Thomas 


"Not so bad for a poor old New York cop in retirement," he said 
with a keen Celtic twinkle in his eye. 

Thirty-four years ago he joined the force, and retired in 1906 
physically disabled after receiving injuries in the performance of duty 
on three occasions. John Hickey knew what was going on along his 
beat and was never known to fear anything in the line of duty, nor 
forget a friend in rain or sunshine. 


This is Another Chapter Similar to the Previous One But 
Relates the Story of the Organization of the Patrolmen's 
Benevolent Association and What Followed. It Also Re- 
lates the Introduction of Athletes into the Police De- 
partment, AND THE Championship Field Days of October, 
1893, and What Followed; the Organization of the Police 
Athletic Association of Greater New York, and the Run- 
ning OF a Championship Meet in Celtic Park, Long Island 
City, and the Breaking of Four World's Records, October, 
1905. The Request of the Hon. Perry Belmont to Have 
Our Athletes Visit Newport, R. I., For the "Perry Day 
Week," September, 1905, and What Followed 

I would like very much to lay before my readers the trials and 
tribulations of us old coppers in our endeavors to bring about the 
establishment of the grand old organization, the "Patrolmen's 
Benevolent Association of the City of New York," the mother 
organization of them all. But space will not permit. Later on, I wish 
to have the names and work of the organizers of this wonderful 
organization, also that of the officers and men of the present day 
organizations, enrolled in a book that I hope to publish shortly, as a 
memorial to our workers both past and present. I have spent many 
years in compiling this work as a monument to the past and an in- 
centive for those coming after. In conclusion, dear readers, I earnestly 
appeal to you men of the city government to be steadfast, join and stick 
to your protective and benevolent associations, aid and assist your 
presidents and officers, and I promise that you will never have any 
reason to be sorry for the time spent in this grand work, of providing 
for your families in life and protecting the "widow and orphan." 

If it was not for such men as Richard E. Enright, Frank Prial, and 
Joseph P. Moran, who are constantly working in your behalf, you, my 
friends, would very soon again go back to slavery days of long hours 
and poor pay, do you want that? No, I guess not, or does this grand 
old city of New York and its good taxpaying citizens want it? The 
days of slavery have gone forever, but you each and every one of you 
must aid and assist your officers who are constantly watching and 



waiting, both night and day, with their eye on the gun. Stick to Joe 
Moran whom you have constantly elected year after year because Joe 
Moran, Guinness, and others have been sticking to you. My dear 
good friends, let your motto be for the New Year, and in fact for all 
years to come, "a fair day's work for a fair day's wage." And 
may God bless the cheerful giver. 

But talking about mistakes and what they cost some unfortunate 
people I will tell you a story that no doubt will surprise you of the 
conduct of some of those miserable get-rich-quick curs that creep into 
our organizations today, it makes no difference if it be a benevolent or 
a social organization, they will get theirs. When the writer entered the 
police department, it was a case of everyone for himself ; the men were 
a body non-united, and when the hand of God touched some one or the 
other of the men, it was a case of going around with the hat to bury 
him, and this was very distasteful to an old member of organizations as 
the writer, for I at the time was chief ranger of the largest Court of 
Foresters in America, and president of several other organizations both 
social and benevolent. Well it came to such a pass that a few of us 
got together and from the conferences that were held sprang the present 
grand body of men known the world over as the Patrolmen's Benevolent 
Association of the City of New York. I did not become a cop until 
the fall of 1890, and November, 1891, we had the P.B.A. running 
and in good condition. But we had our work laid out for us, and each 
and every mother's son of us had to cut short our sleep and rest to 
organize and procure new members, doing missionary work among 
the different precincts, up town, dovi^n town, and cross town, it made 
no difference. Several of us would meet at a certain point and go to 
several precincts each day. We started in by charging our members 
twenty-five cents per month dues and paying one hundred and twenty- 
five dollars at the death of a member, and we were very hard pushed 
for several years. So to help to advertise ourselves to get new 
members we ran a picnic in Sulzer's Harlem River Park, 127th Street 
and Second Avenue, New York City. We had a very successful 
picnic from the point of numbers present, but no financial returns, and 
I could not make that out, but not being on the committee, all that 
I could do was watch and wait. So at the next elecion I was elected 
first vice-president and I lost no time in proposing a picnic and games. 
The committee was appointed, five from each platoon and I was 
elected chairman, I called the committee together to procure bids, and 
going to Sulzer's Harlem River Park, and old Lion Park, West 108th 
Street, for I was determined to find out why our organization re- 
ceived no returns from the picnic of 1902, and I did. 


We met at the office of Herman Sulzer that morning, and I said, 
"Mr. Sulzer, we are a committee appointed from the Patrolmen's 
Benevolent Association, to ask you what terms you will allow us to run 
a picnic and games this year on your grounds," taking good care that 
the members of this committee who were also members of the previous 
committee of 1892 did not get to Sulzer first. And the answer that 
Mr. Sulzer made that day to my request amazed Martin Cahill, Tom 
O'Neill, myself, and one other who were not members of the former 
committee. I ask him if that was the best that he could do and he 
answered "yes." Then I said good day and we withdrew. Gee, but 
what a bunch of soreheads the six of this committee were who served 
on the committee of 1892. Suffice it to say that as bad as our associa- 
tion needed money not a cent was turned over to our treasurer that 
year. It just goes to show how low some people will stoop. 

I said, "Gentlemen, it is getting late and I am going over to old 
Lion Park to interview the manager. Will you come?" But no, they 
wanted no more of J. J. Hickey that day, and forever after I had a 
hard road to travel with that same bunch. The four of us went over 
to Lion Park and made out O.K. I explained to the manager what 
our mission was, and we talked the matter over pro and con, and we 
came to final arrangements, the manager consenting to grant all that we 
asked and to allow ten per cent on all kegs of beer sold over and above 
a certain number. He provided two bands of music, paid for all 
printing and advertising and said, "Mr. Hickey, I have one hundred 
dollars for you, will you take it in cash or will I make out a cheque." 
I said, "You will please draw a cheque payable to the Treasurer of the 
Patrolmen's Benevolent Association of the City of New York," and I 
at the next meeting of our Association presented my report and the 
cheque for the one hundred dollars, receiving a vote of thanks from 
our members, and so ended the picnic and games of the P.B.A. for 
1893. That same cheque should be among the papers of the association 
today, for there is no reason why it should have been destroyed. 

Understand, dear readers, that in those days we were not allowed to 
charge even as low as ten cents for admission, everything connected 
with these games was by invitation. Our prizes we obtained from 
the business people who were so far carried away with the thoughts of 
our having athletic policeman on post to protect their lives and property, 
that they gave freely of medals, cups, and other more useful articles 
in the shape of an order for same, this order to be presented to the 
winner of any contest and he to present same and receive his prize. 
Your humble servant won the one mile championship, the potato race, 
and came a close third in the half mile for the championship that day, 
which, by the way, was October 5th, 1893. There are several members 


of the committee of 1892 living today, and I defy them to question my 
statement, as I hold the proof of my assertions. 

Along in later years, several crooked athletes, who were then winning 
and holding records thanks to their friendship with the handicapper, 
should have been classed professionals instead of amateurs. 

I was congratulated for the successful athletic meet and asked to 
devise ways and means for organizing a policeman's athletic club. I 
being an athlete all of my life, for in the old country one had to run 
before breakfast, or by ginger he would get none, and very often fight 
before supper or get none, so that I was well hardened to face trouble. 
I set to work to bring about the greatest police athletic association in 
the world, I started well on my way in organizing "The Police Athletic 
Association of Greater New York," by electing to honorary member- 
ship the best men of our country, commencing with the President of 
these United States, the late Colonel Roosevelt, asking nothing but, 
sending ten tickets for our championship meet that was held in Celtic 
Park, October, 1905, free of charge. All of these good men accepted 
their election to honorary membership by return letters of thanks ; yes, 
and one of the most prominent of whom was that wonderful fighter and 
all-round athlete, ex-District Attorney the Hon. Travers Jerome, a 
fighting hero at that time. 

I fortified myself with a strong backing of bankers, brokers, and 
prominent officials and men about town, and could see victory in my 
grasp. I also had the support of Police Commissioner McAdoo, who 
gave me permission to run the souvenir program so as to help the 
organizing of this coming great athletic association. But I received a 
sad blow at the sudden death of Deputy Police Commissioner Harriss 
Lindsley, the managing director, killed by an auto in Chicago. I had 
the support of most every one of note, both in and out of the police 
department, and I could see a grand future before me. But it was 
not to be, because the first crack out of the box was by one of my 
athletes, now dead, who came to me and said, "Jack I want a hundred 
dollars." This was even before I had got rightly started, so you see 
what I was up against. 

John Flanagan, at the time the champion weight thrower, sent me 
a dollar for his membership fee, and congratulated me, saying, "Youi 
are doing what I think is the grandest thing ever, because the Irish 
A.C. think they own us fellows body and bones, but with our owni 
club they can't bother us. You will find enclosed a dollar as you ask 
for membership fees, but if you at any time want more, you can have 
it." And another miserable rascal was one Patrolman Carrette, whom I 
withdrew my entry for him to succeed me as I did not run in these 


But with all that these three same gentlemen, in spite of the fact 
that I held their letters and placed them in evidence, denied on the 
witness stand that they were members of this association, and that 
was why Mr. Jerome, the District Attorney, wanted me to proceed 
against Mike Cregan, John Flanagan and Eddie Carrette, for perjury; 
but I said I thank you, what's the use, two wrongs won't make one 
right, and banished the thought. I simply name these men so that 
you will understand my story later on. 

Just prior to our championship meet, in September, 1905, the Hon. 
Perry Belmont was holding a Perry Day week in New Pork, R. I., and 
he wanted to give some glory to little old New York by asking Com- 
missioner McAdoo to send our athletes on to give an exhibition on the 
common at Newport, Saturday afternoon at four p.m. I was patrolling 
Cherry Hill when summoned to report to Chief of Police Nicholas 
Brooks at police headquarters forthwith, and he asked me to get my 
athletes together and take the boat on Sunday to Newport, as these 
were the wishes of Commissioner McAdoo. "Why," I said, "Chief, 
that is impossible, how am I to get my men here." "Well, it must be 
done, John," said the Chief. Then I said, "you must give me the use 
of every phone in the building," and he said, "all right." In an hour I 
had thirty men present in the old trial room, and picking out twenty 
of the best, I reported to Chief Brooks that I was all set and where is 
the money for expenses. Brooks answered, "Oh, that you will have 
to take care of, you will receive your expenses from Mr. Dan McGowan, 
chairman of the citizen's committee, who will meet you in Providence 
tomorrow morning." Well holy smoke, there was I without a dollar 
to my name, near five o'clock on Saturday afternoon, and compelled to 
raise one hundred and fifty dollars to pay all expenses of this bunch. 
That was not bad enough until Carrette brings with him a woman, and 
I had to pay her fare also ; but if it was tomorrow I would just throw 
he and her overboard into the Hudson River, for what good they 

But constantly looking forward to the success of the Athletic Club 
that I was working for, and knowing that this going to Newport 
would be a big boost, I borrowed the money, ordering the men to meet 
me at four-thirty p.m., Sunday, at the boat landing. Sunday evening 
I paid the fares and bought the suppers, and then my next contract 
was to keep the men out of the cafe on board, knowing full well that 
I would have to keep them in good condition, not knowing but that we 
might be forced to compete against the champions of the Eastern States, 
and with that thought in mind, I ordered all to retire at nine p.m. and 
to be sure that they could not leave their berths, I gave the chief 
steward a five dollar bill to lock all doors and not open them until 


reaching the pier in Newport, and then I sure had my men in prime 
condition. Oh, but what a howl they put up, the idea of turning the key 
on such a band of notables. They wished me everywhere and nowhere, 
but nevertheless we arrived and were met by buses and a band of 
music, and for a change New York and her cops were well boosted 
that fine September day in 1905. 

Now for the most serious part of my story, when the unfortunate 
mistake was made, but innocently, I presume, by the First Deputy 
Police Commissioner Thomas F. McAvoy, who ordered charges pre- 
ferred against me for conduct unbecoming an officer, with dismissal 
staring me in the face, and my wife and ten kids to go a-begging, I 
being charged for some other man's misconduct. The story is too 
long to relate here but suffice it to say that after I had been placed 
on trial on December 29th, Commissioner McAvoy, himself wanting to 
try me, and if it had not been for my good friend the late John F. 
Ahearn, Borough President of Manhattan, the trial Judge Thomas F. 
McAvoy, I would have been tried and dismissed that same day, Decem- 
ber 29, 1905, a rank injustice. 

Second Deputy Commissioner Hagerty of Brooklyn tried me, and 
he was so disgusted that he postponed the case. iWell out went 
Commissioner McAdoo and Tom McAvoy, and in came Commissioner 
Bingham and his deputy, the late James Mack, and my case was called 
again, with Commissioner Mack tried judge. Commissioner Bingham 
came into the trial room, sat down for ten or more minutes, and he, too, 
went away disgusted, for he saw it was a frame-up, pure and simple. 
The case for the prosecution had fallen down. I said, "Mr. Com- 
missioner, I am the next witness if you please, and I don't want any 
assistance from my lawyers, they are trying to do me." Commissioner 
Mack said, "Then proceed with your case Officer," and the very first 
crack out of the box I turned over the fly leaf of the souvenir 
program, and said, "Mr. Commissioner, I will show to you the photo- 
graph of Chief of Police Nicholas Brooks, the prosecuting attorney in 
this case, and under the photograph you will notice in print the 
following: Nicholas Brooks managing director of the Police Athletic 
Association of Greater New York, and this by consent. I will ask to 
have this photograph marked exhibit A." 

Commissioner Mack took the book, saw that I was right and rapped 
his gavel for order, for everyone in the trial room were laughing at 
the fact that the defendant was turning the tables on the complainant. 
When order was restored Commissioner Mack arose from his seat and 
and said, "Case closed, and I give you one week to submit briefs," 
and left the room. And one week from date by order of General 
Bingham, the charges against Officer John J. Hickey of conduct un- 


becoming an officer were dismissed. And that was the end of this 
so-called sensational charge of being the president of an organization 
that was not supposed to exist — it is laughable. But it was not finished 
in my heart ; I swore to get my rights some day before God called on 
me to come, in the shape of an exoneration from the Hon. Thomas F. 
McAvoy, and I did. But what was an exoneration to the breaking of 
my good wife's heart. But look what I was up against. When Chief 
Inspector B — told me that I was to answer charges before the Com- 
missioner, I said, "Very well, but as a friend of mine, who will I 
engage to defend me?" "Oh," said he, "John, that is no question to 
ask me," but I knew full well what I was doing, and I said, "I beg 
your pardon. Chief, but I thought you said you were a friend of mine." 
"Yes, I am too, but go and ask Sergeant C — in the other room," 
meaning Sergeant Henry C — , I went in and said, "Sergeant, the 
Chief sent me in to ask you who would be a good lawyer to engage 
to defend me." "Oh, I don't know, John, see Weill and Weill in the 
World Building," and I did see these two cagey gentlemen, and I sub- 
mitted my case to them after telling them who had sent me. They 
started to tell me that my case was a very serious one, and that if 
they took the case they would want five hundred dollars as a retainer. 
Well I had to laugh. I said, "You two can go to h — 1, here is one 
hundred dollars to keep me in the business, but not a cent if you put 
me out," and they grabbed the case, but for what? 

Well, there I was up against a fine combination, my prosecutor 
and my counselors all members of the same club, and I guess you 
know what club I refer to, and they tried like the very dickens to 
put me out, knowing full well that the old game was, five hundred to 
put you out, and a thousand to put you back. But J. J. Hickey had 
traveled too much to be fooled, and the statement above, made by me 
in the same manner as I confess to my good father confessor, was the 
result. And the moral in my case is, trust no one but yourself, so 
long as that you are right you don't want a lawyer, when you tell the 
truth, and that is all that I could or would do under that or any other 
circumstances. But it is a tough piece of cheese, boys, to be charged 
with the crime of another, and no one recognized that quicker than 
did Tom McAvoy when he had learned the true facts of the case, and 
that was Dan Fogerty's own admission to both Commissioner McAvoy 
and myself, after his retirement. Yes, we are and were all out of 
the department at the time. 

In the spring of 1906, Police Chaplain Father Chid wick sent to the 
Oak Street station house asking that I report forthwith to police head- 
quarters, and when I arrived he told me that "Commissioner Bingham 
wanted me to stage a field day in September," and I refused, saying 


that I had had enough of athletics after the dose I got over the last 
games, and Father Chidwick answered, "Mr. Hickey, I showed Com- 
missioner Bingham your souvenir programme, and he said, rapping his 
stick on the floor, 'Hickey ought to get a medal and not a complaint, 
after bringing about a book of that kind. Go to it.' " 

Some time after my case had been fought and won, I was walk- 
ing downtown one day when of a sudden I was stopped by ex-Sergeant 
Dan Fogerty, who had just retired, and he said to me, "Say, Hickey 
old pal, I am awful sorry, but I had to stand in the trial room at head- 
quarters, and listen to you being charged with the crime that I com- 
mitted, but I knew that you were going to beat it, while if I had pleaded 
guilty they would put me off the job." Oh, yes, that was great con- 
solation; he did not care all the trouble that he had made for my 
whole family, besides being the cause of knocking down the founda- 
tion that I had worked hard to build, that is the foundation for one 
of the greatest athletic clubs in the world. 

That was my only object in neglecting my wife and family every 
day off, running around seeing this one and that one to lend me their 
assistance in promoting such a mighty but worthy object. I had suc- 
ceeded in getting every man of note and money in the whole city in- 
terested, and I had the promises of several monied men to call upon 
them for funds when I was ready to start building the clubhouse. 
And I defy any man, woman, or child to say that I ever asked or 
did ever receive a red copper; my ideals were too high to fall for a 
few dirty dollars, I was constantly looking forward to a bright police 
athletic future, an athletic club composed of the greatest athletes the 
world could ever produce. You may ask me why I make this asser- 
tion? Well, I will tell you, it was my intention to give each athlete 
who was on the level and assisted in winning glory for our club, a 
bonus every year; something that would not be violating their amateur 
standing. It could be done very easily, and the club would not lose 
anything either, for the two outdoor meets and the championship meet 
to be held each year in Madison Square would more than cover all. 

My friends, if it was my intention to become rich by taking 
money from the funds, or in other words, to become a dirty crook, 
then I would never have asked that the name of our honorable 
district attorney of the time, the Hon. Travers Jerome, be elected to 
honorary membership in this coming big club. Yes, and Mr. Jerome 
accepted his election with thanks, I have all of those letters locked 

So you see what the selfishness of ex- Sergeant Dan Fogerty did 
for me. He more or less destroyed my police life, and assisted in 
driving my wife to an early grave, suffering from a broken heart, 


and for what, a miserable few dollars. Yes, I was hounded and 
pounded, called a damn thief, and all of that for the miserable doings 
of another; the strong foundation for the police athletic clubhouse 
undermined and the project ruined. Would to God we were blessed 
with such manly and noble athletes as Lieutenant Matt McGrath, Mar- 
tin Sheridan, Pat McDonald, Tom Donohue, and others then. For 
there is no deputy police commissioner nor chief of police this side 
of hell could make these men take the stand and perjure them- 
selves to rob another poor man and his family of their bread and 
butter as did the damned crooks before mentioned, namely, Flana- 
gan, Cregan and Carrette, each of whom never should have been 
accepted into the police department of New York, disgracing the 
company of the other good members of same. But while such men 
may fool the people for awhile, they cannot fool God, and they each 
received their reward, Flanagan running back to Ireland, Cregan 
picked up by the roadside dead, and Carrette, if out of jail then is 
back at his old game, that of private secretary to some fallen woman. 
I thank God that I am able to say that I don't have to ask a dollar 
of any Tom, Dick, or Harry, at the loss of a good wife and mother, 
I can go wherever I please, constantly living in the fear of God, 
and ever ready for him when called, ray conscience is clear, and I 
forgive my enemies. 

You see, dear readers, the writer could not have been so bad be- 
cause two administrations called upon him to bring about or stage 
a champion field day, and he complied with the wishes of both, for 
it was your humble servant that staged the field day for General 
Bingham in 1906, and again when in retirement for Police Com- 
missioner or Colonel the Hon. Arthur Woods in 1915, and I hold 
letters pertaining to these requests. Or any of my readers are priv- 
ileged to call on the Rt. Rev. Monsignor John P. Chidwick, Pastor 
of St. Agnes R. C. Church on East 43d Street, Manhattan, for the 
present Monsignor was our first police chaplain, and the police chap- 
lain at the time that General Bingham asked me to stage these games 
of 1906, and I hold a letter from Third Deputy Police Commissioner 
Lawrence Dunham on the matter of the games of 1915. 

Seven years after, or 1918, Tom McAvoy was excise commis- 
sioner, and he also held a prominent office in the New York Police 
Veteran Association of which I was the first vice-president, and chair- 
man of the employment committee. It was my duty to procure em- 
ployment for our men out of work, and I came to the conclusion 
that now was the time to fulfill my sad promise, which was to square 
things up with the Commissioner for the bad position that he placed 
me in in 1905, 1S>06. And with that thought in my mind above all 


others I was up bright and early and at the office of the former first 
deputy police commissioner. I said, "Commissioner, I came to 
ask you if you won't use your influence with Frank Farrell to 
have our men employed to police the ball field of the Greater 
New York ball club." That matter being settled, I then went 
right to work on the old question, by saying, "Mr. Commis- 
sioner, some seven or more years ago, you called me a G d 

thief and you ordered charges to be preferred against me, for some- 
thing that I was no more guilty of then an unborn child, and this 
cruel injustice to me broke my dear wife's heart so that the mother 
of my ten children is no more ; she was taken from us, for it was 
more than she could do to swallow this base injustice, and she took 
to her bed and died. Now in justice to my family growing up, and 
who will have to face the world when you and I are laying low, I 
want you to give me a letter of exoneration, if you will, please, so 
that I can show it to your good friend and mine, the Hon. John F. 
Ahearn, Borough President, as he is as deeply interested in this case 
almost as I am. And what is more, it is and will be a safeguard 
against the abuse of my character when dead, and my sons can use 
it accordingly." The Commissioner answered, "Say, Mr. Hickey, I 
am sorry, for you knew more about that case then I did. Hugh J. 
Grant came to me in Tammany Hall, and said, 'Say, ]\Iac, what kind 
of policemen have you on the force? One of them held me up today 
and would not let me pass until I gave him ten dollars.' And I, know- 
ing that you were running this championship meet of games and pic- 
nic, I made this infernal mistake. Yes, I will give you a letter of 
exoneration, for I am very sorry for the wrong that I did unknow- 
ingly to your family and yourself.' " I was then happy, but what was 
this happiness to the loss of a good wife and mother? 

At the time of this unfortunate trouble, thanks to John Ahearn, I 
was detailed at the Old Dominion line pier nights, chasing the pirates 
of the North River and other rowdies that resorted on the west side 
in those days. I reported to the lieutenant in charge of the Leonard 
Street station house every midnight, to receive my orders, and to my 
utter surprise Lieutenant James H. Kelley, today Captain Kelley, 
retired, said, "John, you are ordered to report at the office of First 
Deputy Police Commissioner Thomas F. McAvoy, at ten a.m. to- 
morrow," so you see I had no time to inform my sick wife, who was 
then living in Sheepshead Bay, that I would not be home. So I waited 
around until ten a.m., expecting that I was to be promoted to the 
position of roundsman, my name being on the eligible list at that 
time. I was happy in mind waiting for ten o'clock to swing around. 
Oh, but glory be, promoted, eh? Well I received the damndest pro- 


motion that I or any other poor devil of a fellow ever received. Listen, 
watch, and don't miss a word of the conversation of two so-called 

Yes, we all looked upon Inspector Tom McAvoy as our friend 
in the old days and were sorry to lose him in retirement, and besides 
that I had met the Commissioner at his clubhouse after his retire- 
ment. But listen what happened. The victim, "Good morning, Mr. 
Commissioner." No answer. The big, fine, good looking commis- 
sioner choking with madness. I said again, "Good morning. Com- 
missioner," and then he shouted in a very loud and angry tone, "What 
the hell kind of business are you running." I answered, "Why, Com- 
missioner, what does this all mean? I don't understand you." "No, 

you don't. You're a G d thief." Well, jumping Jerusalem, 

I was astounded, and could not get my breath for a minute or so, 
but when I did, this is what happened. "Mr. Commissioner, please 
don't repeat those words, or if you do. Commissioner or no Commis- 
sioner, I will tell you what I think of you." And again, nothing 

daunted, Tom McAvoy said to this poor slob, "You're a G d 

thief." And I made answer by saying, "I am no thief, but you're a 
G d liar." 

My good friend the Commissioner was boiling with rage, and he 
said, "Get out of my office. Hey, Bill," calling upon the present Chief 
of Police William J. Lahey, who was detailed there as lieutenant, 
"Put this fellow out of my office." I said, "Don't you put a hand on 
me. Bill, I will go, but you will pay for this." 

Unfortunately I was up against trouble all of my life. Not that 
I was fond of trouble, any more than any other decent Irishman, but 
when it came to me I met it with a stout upper lip, and fought it 
down every time. It made no difference to me, whether he was a 
small man or a tall man, for I, like good old Ruby Bob Fitzsimmons, 
used to say, "the bigger they are, the 'arder they fall." The fact is 
that I did not speak of my ups and downs of my early days, passing 
through the life of a stowaway and other hard knocks, but my leaving 
longshore work to do police duty in the old fourth ward, yes and in 
its palmy days that was enough to make anyone tough. For the many 
dark days and nights that we boys were looking for such vagabonds as 
"Jack the Ripper,' and "Jack the Slasher," not speaking of the men 
of the sea, the "Bucco" sailors, and the many land sharks that we 
had to get after and wallop once now and again, or get walloped in- 
stead, yet I love to sit alone and chuckle over our deeds of the past, 
and I would love to go all through that same old life once again. 
But it cannot be, those days are gone forever, and my next police 
duty will be done in another world. 


Former Police Commissioner. 

Courtesy of Police Magazine 


Courtesy of Political News 



Before closing this little work, it would not be fair to do so and 
not say a word or two about our great police band, the world's great- 
est. These boys are constantly giving aid and comfort to the un- 
fortunate persons in our hospitals and other institutions. But I am 
sorry to say that my good old pals, the organizers of this wonderful 
band, are fast passing away; there are but few of them left to tell 
the good old tale of twenty-five years ago, namely George Semerlein 
and perhaps three others. 

Our Police Glee Club is another wonderful body, with Lieutenant 
Paddy Fitzsimmons, from the grand old "Gas House District," Tim 
Murphy in the role of Dutch comedians, singing Irish, Italian, and 
German songs, and a Dutchman, Billy Drexler, singing Irish songs. 
They are a great bunch, and we the citizens of New York are proud 
of our young McCormacks and Carusos. "More power to our liv- 
ing members, and peace be to our dead." 

Oh, boys, it is but fitting that I close this little work with a line 
or two about our great army of the traffic squad of this great city, 
these good men that are ruling New York today, who by a swing of 
the hand can stop the president of these United States, or beckon him 
onward. Wonderful power is given to our gallant sons of "Granuaile," 
presided over by that kind and genial young gentleman. Lieutenant 
Paddy Crane. 


This Chapter Tells the Unfortunate Story of Police Lieu- 
tenant Charles Becker, His Trials and Execution, Charged 
With the Murder of Herman Rosenthal, a New York 
Gambler, Who To My Mind Was Murdered By His Own 
Friends and Gamblers But Passed Up To Poor Becker. 

The Murder of Herman Rosenthal 

At two A. M. on the morning of July 16th, 1912, Herman Rosen- 
thal, a New York gambler, was shot and killed in front of the 
Metropole Hotel, 149 West 43rd Street, New York City. There 
were executed for this crime four foolish boys and a lieutenant of 
police, but to the writer's mind, whatever part the boys might have 
taken in the murder. Lieutenant Becker was charged with and electro- 
cuted for a crime that he took no part in, while the guilty ones were 
allowed to escape the chair. I make these remarks because, like many 
others, I worked with Becker and we were in the school of proba- 
tion together, and I will swear before God that Becker was not a 
man in my mind to be a party to such a sensational murder case. 
There is no doubt that Charlie Becker did many things that he should 
not do, that is, he may have grown money mad, and he was in a 
position to get rich by taking the money of these gamblers for pro- 
tection, and while things were running quiet and easy this money was 
coming to Becker every week. Then why should he be so foolish 
as to order or take part in a murder which he knew full well would 
bring about his undoing. I leave this question open to any right- 
minded man or woman to decide for themselves. 

I was then in the employ of the New York Herald, 35th Street 
and Broadway, and reported at one a. m. But on this particular 
morning I was somewhat late and had just arrived at the office when 
this shooting was reported. I walked down from the subway at 42d 
Street and Broadway, just about a stone's throw from where the mur- 
der had been committed. Of course this murder like all other such 
crimes among gamblers did not cost me a thought, as I knew all of 
this element while working as a policeman in the downtown pre- 
cincts, and of course was all well aware of what they were capable of 



doing, so I passed it up. But when after a day or so had passed, 
and I saw the name of Lieutenant Becker mixed up in it then I read 
more of the case and I arrived at the conclusion mentioned above. 

This was a gamblers' fight, pure and simple, it was a case of Rosen- 
thal going to the district attorney to make a squeal, and this the other 
fellows could not stand for, and they came to the conclusion that 
Rosenthal must be silenced and this murder followed, and to protect 
themselves they passed the buck to foolish Becker, who had lowered 
himself so much as to invite these rascals to his own home to dine, 
at diflferent times. This act was to my mind the very thing that 
caused Lieutenant Becker's downfall, his loss of a fine position, thrown 
into jail, and after two trials marched to the electric chair in Sing Sing. 
I may be wrong in my way of thinking, my good friends, but the 
argument I give must surely be worth considering, for Becker had 
everything to win by there being no murder committed, and on the 
other hand he had everything to lose, position, character and free- 
dom. Then don't you think that my way of thinking may be a cor- 
rect way of thinking at that? But be that as it may, Becker is dead, 
and far be it from me to judge anybody. I will leave that for the 
good Lord on high, and if you my readers knew Becker as well as 
I did, and perhaps there are some of you that might have known him 
better than I, as I know that today, and there will be for all time 
many thousands who share the same opinion of this case as the writer 
does and ever will. There was certainly a whole lot of false swear- 
ing going on during these several trials, and I feel free to say that 
the actual murderers are free today, but while they might fool the 
people and some of our learned judges, and prominent attorneys, it 
goes without saying that they cannot fool the supreme Judge before 
whom some day sooner or later we will all have to appear and be 

To go into the whole details of the case would be a waste of 
time, but I am free to say that my old friend ex-Captain Dominick 
Reilly knows quite a lot of the facts of this whole case, because he 
made many of the arrests, in fact all the arrests in the case, that is, 
he arrested Frank Seidenschue, alias "Muller," alias "Whitey Lewis," 
a thief; Frank Cirofici, alias "Dago Frank," a burglar; Harry Har- 
rowitz, alias "Gyp the Blood," a burglar; and Louis Rosenberg, alias 
"Lefty Louie." Those four boys were hired to do the shooting and 
were taken to the scene of the crime and told just what to do to 
Rosenthal when he was invited to step out on the sidewalk by one 
of the gamblers. There were two automobiles on the scene, and while 
the boys fired their shots, nevertheless, to be sure that Rosenthal was 
Icilled, one of the men in the other automobile, Harry Vallon, I be- 


lieve, who was under the influence of Hquor, fired a shot at Rosen- 
thal, so it is alleged. 

The question is and was, did Harry Vallon or the four boys kill 
Rosey? Be that as it may, they were all a bad lot, both employers 
and the employees, in such an infernal crime. I knew them all as 
newsboys downtown aroimd the old "Sun Pharmacy," kept by Dr. 
Charlie Perry, in the "Sun" building in the nineties, but they were all 
good boys then, who in after years became crooks and gamblers. I will 
not write any more of this rotten case, but I will write a 

Chronology of the Case, to Wit 

Herman Rosenthal shot and killed July 16, 1912. 

July 18, Jack Rose surrenders to the police, and to square him- 
self gives evidence of police corruption to District Attorney Whitman. 

July 20, the New York Herald gives for the first time a descrip- 
tion of the four "gunmen" in the gray automobile used by the mur- 
derers of Rosey to escape from the scene of the crime and three of the 
gang, namely Harry Harrowitz, alias "Gyp the Blood"; Louis Rosen- 
berg, alias "Lefty Louis"; and "Whitey Lewis." 

July 21, "Bridgey" Webber, "Jack" Sullivan, and "Sam" Paul ar- 
rested, charged with being connected with the crime. 

July 22, the New York Herald publishes exclusively the name of 
"Dago Frank" Cirofici as the fourth "gunman" who was in the flee- 
ing automobile after the murder of Rosenthal. 

July 25, "Dago Frank" arrested in Harlem, by Deputy Police Com- 
missioner George Dougherty and Detective Sergeant Dominick Reilly. 

July 29, Police Lieutenant Charles Becker arrested aijd indicted 
on the evidence of gambler "Jack Rose." 

August 1, "Whitey Lewis" arrested at Fleischmann's, New York. 

August 20, the four gunmen are indicted for the murder of Rosen- 

September 14, "Gyp the Blood" and "Lefty Louis," are both ar- 
rested in a house at Glendale by George Dougherty and Dominick Reilly. 

October 5, Big "Jack" Zelig, a gambler, murdered on Second Av- 
enue, New York. 

October 10, the trial of Lieutenant Becker commenced. 

October 25, Lieutenant Becker convicted of murder in the first 

October 30, Lieutenant Becker sentenced to die December 9, 1912. 

November 8, the trial of the four "gunmen" commenced. 

November 19, the four "gunmen" convicted of murder in the first 


degree before Justice John Goff in the Supreme Court of General 
Sessions of New York. 

November 26, the four "gunmen" sentenced to die in the electric 

November 27, 1912, Becker gets a stay of proceedings. 

December 3, the appeal of Becker is argued in the Court of Ap- 
peals and the four "gunmen" make an appeal. 

February 24, 1913, a new trial granted Becker; the case against 
four "gunmen" confirmed. 

February 27, Lieutenant Becker leaves Sing Sing for New York 
City, and lodged in the Tombs prison. 

April 5, Governor Martin Glynn refuses to grant a reprieve to 
the four "gunmen." 

April 11, Justice Goff refuses a new trial for the four "gunmen." 

May 22, 1915, the second trial of Becker is commenced, and he 
is convicted and sentenced to die by Judge Seabury. 

July 23, 1915, Becker's counsel makes an appeal to the late Justice 
Philburn for a new trial, and Justice Philburn took the papers under 
advisement, but was forced to deny Becker's appeal. 

July 30, 1915, guilty or not guilty. Lieutenant Charlie Becker was 
put to death in the electric chair at Sing Sing today, and may the Lord 
have mercy on him. He went to the chair just as game as going to 
his dinner at home, and his last words were, "Oh, Lord, I proclaim 
to the world that I am innocent of this crime." 

Friday played an important part in the life of Charlie Becker at 
this time, and none feared Friday more than did poor Becker, and 
why, well you read on, Rosenthal made a squeal on Friday, June 
11, 1912. Becker was found guilty of murder in the first degree on 
Friday, October 25, at midnight. Charlie Becker was taken to Sing 
Sing on a Friday, and when the Sheriff's men came to take him back 
to New York for a second trial he said I am mighty glad, boys, that 
you did not come for me on a Friday. And after the second trial and 
conviction, Becker begged that he be not taken back to Sing Sing on 
a Friday. 

Charlie Becker was the one hundred and sixteenth person to die 
in the electric chair, in this state, and he was the biggest man physi- 
cally of any one of the others who were electrocuted prior to Becker. 

The electric chair in this state of New York was first operated July 
28, 1891, and they celebrated the event by electrocuting four men, on 
that same day, among whom was Smiler Harrison, first to the chair, 
second came James Slocum, the old baseball player, then came James 
Wood, followed by Skukeck Jugega. A h 1 of a fine day's work. 


oh, glory be. Warden Brown was in charge when the four died; 
William Leigley of the Bronx was the one hundredth person killed in 
the chair, with principal Warden Connoughton in charge. Leighley 
was his last execution. 


Detective Stories 

Giving a Descriptive Account of Several Famous Robberies 
That Were Committed in New York City Under the Ad- 
ministration OF Police Commissioner, Hon. Rhinelander 
Waldo, 1911 and 1912. Also the Interesting Part Played 
BY Deputy Police Commissioners George Dougherty and 
William Flynn, Assisted by Detective Sergeant Dominick 
Reilly, Who Was Promoted to the Position of Police Cap- 
tain for the Able Detective Work That He Performed in 
This and Several Other Celebrated Cases of That Same 
Period. The Cases Written About Are Those of "Fors- 
brey," the Notorious Robber and Double Murderer, and the 
Famous Taxicab Robbery of Twenty-Five Thousand 
Dollars, by a Chauffeur, Gene Montani, and His Notorious 
Gang of Eight Men Connected in the Robbery, and the 
Fight Over the Spoils That Brought About the Arrest and 
Conviction of the Eight Rascals. Also a Few Remarks of 
Unfortunate Occurences in the Life of a New York 
Policeman Endeavoring to Do His Duty. 

We old policemen have seen some lively times in the past forty 
years, in such cases as the Captain Unger murder on the east side of 
New York, and the Shapespeare murder, and the case of Jack the 
slasher who admitted killing seventeen men for a fancied grievance 
before we nailed him. These two cases were also down on the east 
side of New York, in the old fourth precinct. But the daddy case 
of them all was the Rosenthal murder case, and, by the way, the ad- 
ministration of Police Commissioner Waldo was notable for its police 
records, for, besides the Rosenthal murder, we had the case of Gene 
Montani and his twenty-five thousand dollar taxicab robbery, and again 
we had the notorious case of Forsbrey, the Bank Murderer. 

One cold winter's morning in February, 1912, a man was murdered 
in a haberdashery store at 799 Flatbush Avenue, Brooklyn, New York. 
The murderers made off with everything they could carry in the shape 
of watches, chains, neckties, razors, and so forth, and twenty-five dol- 
lars in cash, leaving no clue behind them. You can see, dear readers, 



that the murderers were a mean set to murder a man for such a 
trifle, but "Murder will out," as this story proves it, for even though 
they left no clue, they were traced and captured. The name of the 
unfortunate man murdered was Walter Meserritz. The detectives 
visited every pawnshop in Manhattan and Brooklyn, and at last came 
upon some of the stolen goods pawned, and they had the pawnbroker go 
with them to recognize the man that pawned them, and he recognized 
the man, a James Cassidy, whose picture adorns the rogues' gallery 
in police headquarters. The detectives then had something to work 
on and they lost no time, believe me. They went out on a still hunt 
and soon got their man Cassidy, and his pal, a Frank Redmond, ar- 
resting both and charging them with the murder. Cassidy was wear- 
ing one of the stolen neckties at the time of the arrest, but they soon 
learned that there was a third man, a John Clark, connected with the 
murder, and they went hunting for him. July 29th following a man, 
running a jeweler's store at No. 8 Delancey Street, New York City, 
was shot by an unknown man. The victim was Morris Schwartzkopf. 
The same day a clerk for the United Cigar Company at 35 Cooper 
Square, New York City, was also held up and shot by an unknown 
man who had entered the store for the purpose of robbery, but he was 
arrested when making a getaway. 

He gave the name of Charles Wilson, and when presented to the 
detectives on the morning line-up at police headquarters next morning, 
he was recognized as Reynolds Forsbrey, alias Clark, alias Robinson, 
an ex-convict, and the third man wanted for the murder on Flatbush 
Avenue. He was also recognized by Mr. Schwartzkopt of No. 8 
Delancey Street as the man that shot him. The detectives .worked up 
such a clean-cut case against him that he pleaded guilty to the murder 
on Flatbush Avenue. He was held for trial and lodged in the Tombs 
prison, but he had an Irish sweetheart and she was not long in 
bringing about his escape from the Tombs September 2nd, 1912, 
and after a good long chase from one city to another, he was at last 
caught and landed back into a different cell in the Tombs prison, and a 
special day and night watch kept at the cell door. 

Forsbrey was tried and convicted for the murder of Morris 
Schwartzkopf who had died shortly after the arrest of this desperate 
villian, Forsbrey, and was sentenced to serve twenty years in state's 
prison at Sing Sing, but the indictment for the murder of Walter 
Meserritz, of 799 Flatbush Avenue, is still hanging over his head, 
if ever he lives to get out of Sing Sing. 

It may read strange to you my friends that a man can commit two 
murders and the punishment meted out to such a vagabond be twenty 
years in state's prison, but like all other things there is a reason for 


everything. For in the first place there is a reason why the good 
Lord above will permit a scoundrel like Forsbrey to live to murder 
a fellow man in cold blood, and the Lord only knows how many more 
this imp out of h 1 has killed in his time? 

You see when a crook finds that he is in bad, then he takes a 
plea of murder in a lesser degree than first degree, thereby saving 
the state the expense of a trial, and for so doing he Isssens the sen- 
tence. You may ask, then, why was he not tried for the murder 
that he pleaded guilty to ; my answer is that because he being arrested 
for a crime committed in New York County, he must be tried in 
New York County. No doubt, in my mind, it would have been much 
better to have turned the rascal over to the Brooklyn authorities, and 
then he sure would have been sentenced to die, thereby saving the 
state the support that they are in duty bound to give him, and besides 
that the care and watchfulness that the warden has to give a brute 
of that nature, who at any moment may turn around and kill the 
warden or jailers, or perhaps a fellow prisoner. But under the un- 
fortunate circumstances it could not be helped, because the authorities 
of New York county had so much evidence against him that they were 
forced to try him in this county. 

In 1919, this desperado and his pals in Sing Sing were planning 
to make a getaway, but owing to the information of a good trusty 
this plan was frustrated and a heavier guard placed upon them. But 
we must not lose sight of that Irish colleen, wherever she is, for it is 
the devil to beat the Irish, for they will get you if it takes them 
seven hundred years to do it, and that is why Ireland is free today. 
She will get Forsbrey out of Sing Sing if there is a chance at all, 
for she will try every means in her power even to bribing the jailers. 

Do you ever sit down and think just what a policeman, walking 
his lonely beat, is up against in the dark hours of the morning, vdth 
such fiends as Forsbrey and his kind prowling around ready to shoot 
to kill anyone, and at any old time, a policeman in particular? There 
are many like Forsbrey, stalking around this big city of ours, it makes 
no difference how watchful our police force may be, one cannot catch 
the crooks in the act at all times, and if you don't get the goods on 
them, then you have a poor chance of convicting them, for their pals 
on the outside of a jail can always get money to buy the freedom of 
the crook after committing a crime, whether it be by feeing some 
infernal bonding company, or fixing someone connected with the 

Why I could tell you some interesting stories of my own experience 
in arresting highwaymen and others, that if you could know of the 


prominent persons who dare come and intercede for these crooks you 
would be amazed. 

Yes, and if you don't tell them that you will let up on their 
friends, the crooks, then they will find a way to block you, and the 
first thing a policeman knows is that he is told, "Oh, is that all the 
evidence you have against them. Officer? Well we can't indict them 
on that," and your time off to work up the case, taking them to court 

and all this stuff, is of no avail, the right party has been seen, to h 1 

with the officer. 

Why the writer had a case of highway robbery at three o'clock 
in the morning down on West Street, arresting three men after a 
chase, and finding a gold watch and chain on one of the crooks that 
was taken off the person of an assemblyman sitting in the side room 
of an all-night cat house, a so-called hotel, the bartender of which 
was an eye-witness to the robbery. I took them to the Tombs Court 
after my night's work on post was done, hung around until near noon 
before they were held for the grand jury, then went back to the 
precinct and reported the disposition of the case to the sergeant in 
command, arriving home for breakfast and sleep about four p. m. 
There was no excuse for a poor devil of a cop, it made no difference 
how much time he lost in and out of court, working up his case, 
nevertheless he had to be ready to turn out on patrol for the next 
tour 6 P.M. or get a complaint. 

But the worst of all is, that after working up such a good case, 
down on your post at the next tour comes these busybodies interceding, 
in one instance the captain of the precinct came and congratulated 
me on the arrest that same tour of patrol after the arrest. But before 
leaving me he told me that a certain big politician in the ward had 
come to ask him to have Hickey let go. I thought a whole lot of 
my captain for he was a big-hearted good fellow, one that would give 
a patrolman a square deal and would see that the men behind the 
desk would give one a square deal, for they, too, can raise the dickens 
with a policeman when one steps on their toes, and in the past this 
often has been done, but not today, no, no, that time is past, thank 
God. Well in reply to the statement made to me by my captain, 
I said, "Captain, you are one of the squarest men that I have ever 
had the good fortune to work under. You come to me and congrat- 
ulate me when I drive these cursed shooflies out of the precinct, and 
again after several other good arrests that I was fortunate to make, 
getting convictions in each case. Yes, you have done more, you have 
given me a night off for making these arrests or have ordered the 
sergeant to put me out on special duty in citizen clothes. Yes, you 
have at all times recognized a good piece of police work, and I for 


one would go to h 1 to do anything for you. But I am sorry to 

say to you tliat I am not going to let go in this case, for I don't 
care what happens to me, I may get transferred, and I don't give a 

d if I do; I have a good job, and we are receiving a union scale 

of wages wherever we are working. But, Captain, I feel sorry for your 
position in this matter, but if you will go tell Mike so and so, that if 
he wants favors he must come and ask the officer, and not put it up to 
the captain of the precinct to do his dirty work, then I will tell Mr. 
Mike what I think of him." 

"All right, Mr. Hickey," said the captain, "don't blame me for 
speaking to you." 

"Oh," said I, "Captain, that is your privilege. I love to merit 
your kind words on any or all occasions. Goodby." 

The next evening out on patrol, I was met on post by captain so 
and so and his big political friend, Mr. Mike . It was under- 
stood between the skipper and I that I should be at Cortlandt and 
West Streets, the end of my post, I having to patrol at night from 
Cortlandt Street to the Battery, at seven p. m., and I was there wait- 

The captain said, "Good evening, Officer Hickey," and I said 
"Good evening. Captain, how are you tonight." The captain then said, 
"Officer Hickey, this is Mr. S. n, the man I spoke to you about." 

"Oh, yes, how are you Mr. S. n? The captain turned and walked 

about ten feet away, and I said, "Mr. S., Captain so-and-so told me 
that you were to see him in that matter of arrest of Billy Mc. and 
two pals charged with highway robbery." 

"Yes," said Mr. S., "I asked the captain to speak to you about the 
case as Billy Mc. is a friend of mine and a good member of the or- 

"Now see here, Mr. S., I too am a mighty good member of the 
organization. They put me on the police, and I have never forgotten 
them, nor do I ever intend to forget them, I will keep up my mem- 
bership with that same organization as long as God gives me the 
health to earn a dollar. I think a whole lot of my captain, and I 
am sorry that you compromised him in this or any other case, for 

I hate like h 1 to refuse a man of his sterling character. But it 

is men like you that destroy a good man and bring discredit upon 
the organization of which both you and I are members. You thought 
that Captain S. was going to say to me, 'Say, Hickey, I want you to let 
up on these fellows, they are friends of mine,' and of course old man 
Hickey would have to let go, but you have the wrong man in both 
the captain and the officer, and I am not going to let go of anything. 
Now you go over to the district attorney's office and beat me if you 


can, for I am going to push this case for all it is worth, and if I am 
beaten, then I will want to know the reason why." 

Well it goes without saying that I was beaten all right, and could 
get no satisfaction nor decent answer to all of my inquiries, but the 
captain was always my friend, even when transferred out of his pre- 
cinct and detailed on traffic, may the Heavens be his bed tonight. 

Yes, dear readers, it is mighty hard for a policeman to neglect his 
home, wife, and children, and lose his rest to do proper police duty 
and then be beaten, but this same thing happened to me several times 
before. For instance, I was standing on Cherry Hill, just at the site 
of where General George Washington once lived, and thinking, "Gee, 
if George Washington should be coming up the hill now!" It was 
midnight and I was waiting for my relief, when all at once I heard, 
"Police ! Police !" and off I went hell bent for election, and after run- 
ning five blocks I grabbed my man, a smart young fellow of twenty- 
one, and oh, how he could run, but I at that time held the cham- 
pionship for the one-mile run, and I too could run. Well, I took this 
fellow, whose nickname was "Sheeny Hymey," a pickpocket, in fact 
an all-around crook. So I again lost my case. 

Yes, I could keep right on telling you of such cases that happened 
not only to me but to many other good policemen. 

Why, one time a certain district leader was the sitting magistrate 
in the old Tomb's court, and we were very good friends, and he one 
morning spoke to his clerk, a prominent figure in after years, and the 
judge said, "Tell Officer Hickey to come into my chambers as I 
wish to speak to him." I went in and said, "Good morning. Judge," 
and he made answer, "Good morning, Officer. Say, John, it is re- 
ported to me that you are making a marker of my friends bringing 
them to court all the time." 

"Yes," said I, "Judge, if I was not bringing them to court, they 
would not have a dam bit of use for you nor the organization on elec- 
tion day." Well he smiled and answered, "I think that you are right, 
John. Pardon me for speaking to you ; go do as you are doing — good 
police duty." Yes, dear readers, a poor cop is up against it all the 
time, for if he doesn't make an arrest he is a son of a gun, and if 
he does make an arrest he is a son of a gun. 

There is only one thing for him to do, and that is join the same 
organization and be independent of those political bums that would 
abuse you for a crook, for a member ,of the same club, you have a 
fair and square chance of fighting them, and telling them to go to 
where the fires are never out. 

Yes, I am reminded of a funny story I heard during the war. 
It appears that a man named Murphy. Oh, yes, there are a whole 


lot of Murphys and all fighters, for they learned that in the fair days 
in old Ireland. 

Well this Mr. Murphy was a New York cop, and he, being a good 
Irishman, wanted to get into a fight, so he enlisted, and one night 
on sentry he stopped for a moment and said, "What a dam fool I 
was to leave the police force of New York where I could sleep all 
the time. Sure here if I lay down to sleep they will shoot me, and 
by jabers they will shoot me if I stay awake. This is a devil of a 
place to be, glory be." 

Before closing I will tell the story of the famous taxicab robbery. 
It was on February 15, 1911, that little old New York was thrown 
into a wild state of excitement. The newsboys were running around 
like mad shouting out, "Extra, extra, a great robbery, two men killed 
and no one injured. Extra, extra." It happened that that same day 
witnessed one of the most brazen robberies that was ever sprung in 
this or any other city, and this is how it happened. Two bank mes- 
sengers were sent from the East River National Bank at Broadway 
and Third Street, New York City, to draw the sum of twenty-five 
thousand dollars in currency from the Produce National Bank at 
Broadway and Beaver Street. They had often filled the same or like 
contract before without any mishap, and traveled over this same 
route. But it is an old saying, that one will carry the pitcher to 
the well once too often, and so it happened in this case. The mes- 
sengers were unarmed, one of them was an old man and the other 
a mere boy. But of course, they have to live too. The taxicab driver, 
a man named Gene Montani, was also regarded as a trusty em- 
ployee. He operated two cabs from a stand facing the bank and 
was frequently called upon for such trips. While the messengers 
were returning uptown through Church Street, five men suddenly 
pounced upon them, closing in upon the cab, and, according to the 
chauffeur, a sixth man caused him to slacken speed by his stumbling 
in front of his car. Immediately two men, one on each side of the 
car, opened the doors and entering, brutally blackjacked and robbed 
the messengers of the money, the $25,000, before mentioned. And 
while this was going on inside the cab, two others of the accom- 
plices were running along the sidewalk, and a fifth man had jumped 
onto the seat with the chauffeur, and held a pistol to his side order- 
ing him to drive fast. 

At Greenwich and Chambers Streets, the chauffeur was ordered 
to slow up and the robbers made a getaway, meeting in a certain 
liquor saloon later to divide the spoils. But in all of such cases there 
is a fight over the division of the spoils, for several other men of 
the same gang of robbers who were asked to take part, but refused, 


came in and asked for their share of the booty. After fighting sev- 
eral hours it was concluded to give these same men who had refused 
to take any part in the robbery ten thousand dollars hush money. 

Detective Sergeant Dominick Reilly was put on the case and it did 
not take him long to get after the robbers and he aided in arresting 
them and their confederates, eight men in all. The first four men 
arrested were Gene Montani, the chauffeur, and the three men that 
got into the cab and robbed the messengers. They were indicted, 
tried, and convicted, receiving sentences as follows : Gene Montani, 
eighteen years and two months in state's prison. Edward Kinsman, 
six years in state's prison. Eugene Splaine, seven years and six 
months in state's prison. Robert Delio, six years in state's prison. 
They were tried and sentenced by Judge Seabury in general sessions 
in the city and county of New York. Their confederates were tried 
and convicted by Judge Vernon Davies in general sessions and sent 
to jail. 

Before closing this part of my book, I think a word about our 
former commissioners would be appropriate. Of the many police 
commissioners of my time, there are but few living. John R. Voorhis 
is still living and in harness at 96 and going strong. Bernard J. York 
is still holding his own at 78. I met Mr. Joyce, the advertising man- 
ager of the Southern Pacific R.R. yesterday and he told me that his 
uncle, former Commissioner York, was doing pretty well. Now and 
then he gets an attack of sickness, but he is still strong enough to fight 
it off. William McAdoo is our chief sitting magistrate, and looks 
very fine. I meet the judge very often and we spend a few minutes 
talking of the good old days. Theodore Bingham is still going strong 
in our government service. Rhinelander Waldo is in fine shape, spend- 
ing much time in Washington, and of course there is a reason for 
all things. I wish him good luck. Douglas McKay is in fine shape 
and constantly attending to business. Arthur Woods is also in pretty 
good condition, doing a very fine business with an office on Broadway. 

Deputy Commissioner Thomas F. McAvoy is looking very well. 
I saw him at the funeral of Tom Foley and I was mighty glad to 
see our grand old ex-inspector, and ex-commissioner looking so well, 
and he is good for many more years, God willing. George Dougherty 
is also in fine shape, attending business every day. William Flynn 
also is looking fine, and full up to his eyes in business. There are 
others of these past deputies that I don't think are worth losing my 
time about, such men as Hanson, Lord, and Dillon. Oh, yes, Avery 
Andrews and Leon Godley are both doing well. Good luck to them all. 


This Chapter Speaks of an Extended Vacation of Officer "787," 
Who He Met and What He Saw in His Sixty-Five Thou- 
sand Miles of Travel Through Europe and America, Visiting 
THE World's Expositions of San Francisco and San Diego, 
California, in 1914 and 1915. A Police Propagandist. 

You will remember that in the Rosenthal story I stated that I was 
working for the New York Herald and had been in their employ sev- 
eral years. My wife died in February, 1912, and on receiving the 
life insurance that we often went without other necessities to pay 
for, and having paid my outstanding debts and provided for my chil- 
dren, I came to the conclusion that I had earned a vacation for my- 
self. I went to the office of my good friend, the general manager 
of the New York Herald in 1913, Mr. Frank B. Flaherty, and I asked 
him to present my application for a vacation to the board of control, 
then running the business of the New York Herald Corporation. Mr. 
Flaherty did so, and I was granted a two weeks' vacation, but it had 
such a long string of extra work for me to do on my return that 
I thought to myself a trip home to the old country would be a fine 
thing so that I could visit the birthplace of my father and mother, 
both of whom were dead, and laying in Calvary Cemetery. So I 
booked passage and left New York on the S.S. Oceanic, of the White 
Star Line, and when off Sandy Hook sent a telegram to Mr. Flaherty 
asking him for an extension of my vacation, explaining my reasons 
for so doing. We arrived in Southampton July 11th, having left 
dear old New York on July 4th, amid the roaring of guns and flags 
and bunting flying everywhere, for it was the day we Americans like 
to celebrate. 

Arriving in Southampton, I received a telegram from my esteemed 
friend, Sir Thomas Lipton, Bart, K. C. V. O., the noted Irish yachts- 
man, advising me to remain in Southampton and wait on board the 
yacht ^rin lying off the clubhouse of the Royal Yacht Squadron at 
Cowes, until he came down from London. And by the way he was 
there to witness the fight between one of America's fighting men. Gun- 
boat Smith, and the French champion, Georges Carpentier. 

Well I did as requested and spent a very happy week with Sir 



Thomas and his men, and on July 19th Sir Thomas was about to 
send Shamrock IV over here to lift the America's cup. It was one 
continuous round of pleasure, and we bade Sir Thomas aboard the 
Erin and his men aboard the Shamrock IV goodby as they sailed 
through the great English fleet that day, on what I stated their mis- 
sion to America was to be. But the races were postponed on account 
of the breaking out of the great World War of 1914. 

I might say at this time that the S.S, Oceanic, on which I sailed 
from New York on July 4th, made one trip back to New York and 
on her return was sunk oflf the Irish coast by a German submarine. 
Sir Thomas Lipton gave his yacht Erin over to the British Govern- 
ment fitting her out himself as a hospital ship. She was also sunk 
by a German submarine in Soloniki harbor in Greece in 1915, and the 
S.S. Cedric, on which I returned, was nearly wrecked off the banks 
of Newfoundland, so that your humble servant was up against it in 
1914, and remembering also that the S.S. Erin, belonging to the old 
National Line, that I first crossed the ocean on, also sank the fol- 
lowing trip, I commenced to think that J. J. Hickey was a Jonah. 

Sir Thomas, before leaving Southampton, asked me to take good 
care of a good old friend of his, who also was on board the Erin, 
Magistrate George Doherty, a pork butcher of the city of London- 
derry, Ireland, and I was not to forget that George Doherty, J. P., 
must be in Ireland for the pork market on the following Wednesday. 
I found Mr, Doherty to be one grand old Irish gentleman with a 
beautiful rich Irish brogue that drew the attention of all passers-by, 
the pretty girls of Southampton in particular. Yes, my dear old 
Irish friend could dance a jig just as good as Kitty O'Neill in her 
palmy days. Sir Thomas having left Southampton, there was noth- 
ing to keep me there any longer, so I told my good friend Mr, Doherty 
that I was paying my hotel bill to leave for London on the 11.10 p. m. 
train as I wanted to attend high mass next morning, Sunday, at St, 
George's Cathedral, where I often attended as a boy, this is in Lam- 
beth, London, the seat of the bishop of Southwark. 'Well, it is 
then you should have heard the Honorable George Doherty! He 
started off in this way, "Say, Hickey, glory be to God, don't you men 
in America never rest, or what the divil kind of men are you any- 
way, for here you are, you have not been to bed any night this 
week until early in the next morning, and now be jabers you want 
to travel all night. Glory be to me, but I will let Sir Thomas know 
the kind of a man you are, and how you are treating me, but what 
the divil can I do. I must go with you or be lost among the damned 
English men and women here," So we started and believe me it 
^a3 some night arriving at Waterloo Station at 2,15 a, m. We put up 


REV. JOSEPH A. McCaffrey 

Spiritual Director Manhattan, Bronx and 

Courtesy of National Holy Name Journal 

President Manhattan, Bronx, Richmond. 

President Brooklyn and Queens. 

Courtesy of the P.B.A. 


President of the Patrolmen's 

Benevolent Association. 


Deputy Chief Inspector. 



Superintendent of Telegraph. 

Veteran patrolman, champion long-distance runner of 
the New York Police Department, Past President of 
the Police Athletic Association of Greater New York, 
and prominent in police and social clubs, numbers 
many eminent personages among his personal friends. 

Courtesy of National Magazi 


at the York House, a hotel near at hand, and went to St. George's 
next day. 

The cathedral is about two miles from the hotel, and I am one 
of those fellows that like to walk in a strange place so that noth- 
ing passes me, but my esteemed friend from Londonderry, a fine fat 
little gentleman with a boodle alderman stomach and a wee pair of 
fat legs, wobbled along. I used to have to turn my back to enjoy 
a quiet laugh at the sight, for every now and then Mr. Doherty would 
say, "Say, Hickey, don't you ever ride? Glory be to God, you have 
the feet worn ofif of me," Well there is no doubt of it, we Ameri- 
cans can walk when we want to and I don't know of any nation 
that can keep up with us. It sure is not such a person as a London- 
derry magistrate, although I certainly did give my good friend a 
lovely walk, for after leaving St. George's Cathedral I walked him 
over the Westminster Bridge, to the Houses of Parliament, Westmins- 
ter Abbey, then up Victoria Street to St. Patrick's Cathedral, Ashley 
Place, to hear the late Monsignor Hugh Benson in his last but one ser- 
mon before his death. 

And we continued this same program each day, because if Mr. 
Doherty was to leave his good friend Hickey, the cockneys of Lon- 
don would be selling him a gold brick or a painted cocksparrow for a 
canary bird, and all of his money for the hog market would be squan- 
dered in dear old London. So that the Hon. George Doherty, the 
Londonderry magistrate, was highly pleased at all that was shown 
him in London, but he was more highly pleased when I took him to 
the railroad depot and put him on a train bound for Holyhead, for 
he knew then that he was on his way to the Emerald Isle, and he sure 
would be present at the hog market on Wednesday. I would like 
very much to tell you more of my experience with this grand old 
Irish magistrate in the big city of London, it was so amusing to me, 
and I think it would be to you. His droll sayings and actions and 
his jolly old Irish wit were very amusing I assure you. 

But I am way ahead of my story, and with your permission I 
will return to my passage over, and some of the things that occurred 
to us on the wicked English coast, and when I say wicked I mean by 
that those darned English Coasters it seems save up all their fogs 
until a passenger steamer from America is in sight and then they 
open their flood gates. For when we were nearing this desperate 
coast we were enveloped in a dirty black thick fog, we had lost our 
bearings and were at the mercy of old Father Neptune, soundings were 
made by third petty officer Monroe, all through the night. 

He was a jovial good fellow, always ready to help at most any- 
thing. During the intervals of dropping the lead he told me that 


this was the roughest voyage he had ever experienced and I do not 
for one moment doubt his word, for all through the night the ship's 
siren was constantly in action, and with its unearthly shrieks sleep was 
out of the question. There was not a passenger on board that did 
not know that we were lost on the ocean, and a more doleful crowd 
would be hard to find. Prayers instead of smiles was the order of 
that night, and I am not ashamed to admit that I prayed more in those 
few hours than I had in all my previous life I think ; but even misery 
has an ending and at about four-thirty A. m. the fog lifted and much 
to our surprise and greatly to our pleasure we found we were ofi 
the Eddystone Light, having ran past Bishop's Light in the thick fog. 
Happiness was once more with us and before I was aware of it, 
I was singing an old song of my boyhood days, of more than forty 
years ago, and I speak of that famous old mariner's song, the "Ed- 
dystone Light," as follows : 

My father he kept the Eddystone Light. 
He married a mermaid late one night. 
They came together with an offspring of three, 
Two of them were fish, and the other was me. 

Chorus : 

The jolly nore, the stormy nore, 

The winds did blow anore and nore. 

None such a life was there on shore 

Than the life that was led by the man at the nore. 

This and many other catchy songs were in existence in my boy- 
hood days. I will mention a few others such as "Champagne Charlie," 
sung by George Leybourne, "Darling, I Am Growing Old, Silver 
Threads Among the Gold," "Tom Sayers' Farewell," "Have You Seen 
the Prince, Oh, Have You Seen the Prince. Its an interesting story 
I am going to commence. They hit me and they kick me and they 
knock me into mince. All because I asked them, oh, have you seen 
the Prince." Those good old songs that have been laying dormant 
in the back of my head all of these years, every now and again, and 
without any effort, spring into life, but if I tried to sing them I 
would undoubtedly fail. But what's the use of trying to account for 
the human mind, it's there and if it feels like it it will do the un- 
expected every time. So to get back to my story. 

We ran along up the English coast for hours, and at last we saw 
grand old Plymouth looming up in the distance, and a very pretty 
harbor it is ; and we anchored there for several hours landing pas- 
sengers, then leaving for Cherbourg, another pretty harbor on the 
coast of France, landing more of our passengers, we then pulled out 
and made our way to beautiful Southampton, arriving there at seven 


o'clock in the morning, July 11th, 1914. It was a beautiful sight to 
see the great white chalk hills in the distance and the huge cliffs, 
one higher than the other, over-looking this grand old harbor of Ports- 
mouth, Cowes, and Southampton, Passing up the coast we rode be- 
tween the many beautiful white sailboats riding at anchor, and the 
fleet of the Royal Yacht Squadron laying off the royal clubhouse at 
Cowes, Isle of Wight, among them the yachts Erin and Shamrock III 
and IV of the Great Lipton fleet. Arriving at the White Star Line 
pier we were not long in landing, and we passengers bade each other 
goodby, each going his own road, but promising to meet in London 
later on. 

I remember on entering the harbor, third petty officer Jack Mun- 
roe and I were talking on the quarter deck, and he caught me by 
the arm, saying, "Mr. Hickey," he pointing away off on our star- 
board side, "you see that big bed of water off there?" I answered 
yes, and he continued, "Well two days ago an English tramp steamer 
was coming up the harbor and the German merchant ship Kaiser Wil- 
hclm was on her way out loaded down with coal, and the English 
steamer struck the German steamer smashing five plates of her star- 
board side, sinking her in the shallow water near by." What was 
she doing, a first class passenger ship loaded down with coal? This 
was July 11th and no signs of war, but history today records the rea- 
son. Jack Munroe also told me that the Oceanic was to lay up for 
ten days this trip for overhauling in the great dock at Southampton, 
and all preparation had been made to receive her when discharged. 

But when this contract was made there was no thoughts of the 
Kaiser WiUiehn being sunk and forced to throw her cargo of coal 
overboard to lighten her up so that she could be towed to the dry- 
dock for repairs, and then what to happen? There was but one 
drydock in Southampton big enough to take either the Oceanic or the 
Kaiser Wilhelm. What was the consequence? The German govern- 
ment requested the drydock officials to dock the Kaiser Wilhelm, or she 
would sink and become a total loss. The drydock people at once got 
in touch with the officials of the White Star Line, explaining to them 
the condition of things, asking them to permit them to dock the Ger- 
man boat first, put every man to work both night and day, get through 
with the Kaiser JVilhelm in five days, then dock the Oceanic and have 
her also ready in fi^-e days. This arrangement was satisfactory to all, 
and the company fulfilled its contract, having both ships ready for sea 
again in ten days, a most remarkable piece of work to say the least. 

The Kaiser Wilhelm took on another cargo of coal and sailed 
where to God only knows, as the great World War was then brewing, 
and the German warships were receiving their supplies preparatory 


for the bloody contest soon to come, bringing with it the destruction 
of this, then, happy world, of 1914. To my mind the Kaiser Wilhelm 
was taking this coal to supply the big German warships, namely the 
Goeben and the Breslau laying off the Irish coast, and the whole world 
remembers the destruction that these two infernal warships brought 
about, they bringing about the entry of Turkey into the great war of 
desolation and destruction. 

I had no trouble passing the custom officials, as I was prepared 
for them, knowing that to violate the customs' duty would cause 
trouble. I took with me only just what the law allowed me, so that 
I was soon on my way. There was one little article that I was forced 
to conceal, and that was my old police revolver, my good old pal for 
so many happy years. I would have been lost without it; we slept 
together and we worked together, ever ready for emergency. 

I put up at Hooper's Hotel on Oxford Street in the heart of 
Southampton, and here is where I began to learn that the New 
York cop did not know everything. My baggage consisted of a 
steamer trunk and two suitcases, and they were two and a half pieces 
too many and were an everlasting source of trouble and expense, 
a tip here and a tip there and more often than otherwise, you would 
have to follow them instead of you going ahead and they following. 
With a small hand bag, holding all that you actually need, one can 
go about just as he pleases, and if it is in the way it is easy enough 
to have it checked either at the railroad station or at the newsstand. 

But enough of this. Having booked at the hotel, I took a refresh- 
ing bath, then after a hearty supper strolled about the town in search 
of a church, the next morning being Sunday I wanted to be fully 
prepared to hear mass. In my wanderings I came to the spot where 
the Pilgrim Fathers embarked for the new world, and it struck me very 
forcibly that they had taken all the churches with them, I was having 
so much trouble in finding one. At last in a very out of the way 
place, I located a pretty little church and having succeeded in my 
efforts I made my way back to the hotel and turned in for the night. 
My precautions, however, came near being of no use to me for I 
slept like a log and it was only by spurting that I managed to get to 
church in time. 

Southampton is a place well worth seeing, many of its grand old 
buildings date back to the thirteenth century and look as if they could 
weather another round of ten centuries before they really showed the 
effects of age. It is astonishing how well preserved they are. There 
are many beautiful monuments erected to the memory of the heroes 
that have gone before. The one that took my eye the most was the 
grand monument erected in commoration of the terrible Titanic dis- 


aster. Most of the crew of that ill-fated ship had their homes in 
Southampton, and this big monument is but a faint tribute to their 

The spots to visit in this old town are many and of great in- 
terest. A goodly number of the buildings possess a history which, 
could they but speak, would thrill the heart of the most blase man or 
woman in America. They existed long before Columbus conceived 
the idea of a westward passage, and so interwoven is their story with 
that of England's that to separate them would be impossible. 

I am not, however, going to tire you with a lengthy description 
of what I saw, but I will take the liberty of suggesting to those who 
can afford the time, to stay a day or more in Southampton, make 
it more if possible, and I assure you there will be no regrets. 

Somehow the fact that I was a member of the finest police force 
in the world leaked out, and when I visited the Court of Assizes, 
which corresponds to our criminal court, I was honored with a 
seat close to the presiding judge. This building brought back to my 
mind the old Temple Bar that formerly stood at the head of Fleet 
Street in London. The resemblance between the two buildings was 
to my mind striking, indeed. They both had arches over the street 
and were greatly alike in other particulars. 

Temple Bar was the entrance to the city of London, and in the 
early days it was necessary to have these gates unlocked before one 
could gain admittance. As a boy I witnessed the ceremony of pass- 
ing the Golden Keys by the Lord Mayor of London to the High 
Sheriff of the county to permit Queen Victoria to enter on her way 
to services held in St. Paul's Cathedral, for the recovery from serious 
sickness of the Prince of Wales, afterwards King Edward VII. My 
recollections of the affair are very vivid indeed, for it was an event 
I had long looked forward to. 

My father worked with the carpenters whose duty it was to pre- 
pare the cathedral for the great occasion, that of building platforms 
and chairs to accommodate the thousands of persons permitted to 
enter on that big day of thanksgiving, a day that will forever live 
in my memory. I was but a small boy, wandering around after 
school hours to see all that was to be seen, just like many other boys. 
I wandered along Fleet Street, High Holborn, in fact I went where 
the crowd carried me, I had no option. My feet being sore, I took 
off my shoes and tied them around my neck, and that was my down- 
fall, and my reasons never to forget that memorable and happy 
night among the lights of dear old London Town. And while I was 
not very far away from the Seven Dials, or Drury Lane, the former 
hang-out of Fagin and his band of thieves, there were no Fagins 


left to tell the tale, but nevertheless there were other light-fingered 
ladies and gents in these great London crowds. Well, I don't know 
who it was that robbed me that night, but my shoes were gone, and 
gee what a terrible stew I was in, for when my father should hear of 
it, he having nine others of us to provide for on a very small salary, it 
caused me to cry and to cry aloud. 

But all the crying in the world would not bring back my shoes 
or boots that night, but it did bring to me some very fine people, 
both ladies and gentlemen, who took pity on me in my deplorable 
condition, and they passed me so much small change that, while I had 
to sneak into the good old London homestead, when Daddy had gone 
to bed, I had in my pockets enough small change to buy for my dear 
old mother and myself a fine pair of boots. That's the reason why 
I remember that great night, because all through my life I have made 
it a practice never to forget a kindness, hence my love often goes 
back to dear old Lunnun, and why not? 

Returning that evening to my hotel I wrote a letter to Sir Thomas 
J. Lipton, Bart, K.C.V.O., whom I have known since 1901. Our ac- 
quaintance began in a way that was somewhat out of the ordinary. 
At the time that I am speaking of, August, 1903, I was patrolling West 
Street, New York City, and fortunately for all concerned I was on 
duty the evening Sir Thomas Lipton arrived. It will be remembered 
by many that our President, the late Theodore Roosevelt, had in- 
vited Sir Thomas and his party to dine with him at the White House, 
Washington, D. C. With the party was our former Dock Commis- 
sioner, the Hon. R. A. C. Smith, and now I will give you a little 
inside history of the affair which, to the best of my knowledge, has 
never appeared in print. 

About ten o'clock that night one of the neighbor's children came 
to me and said that there was a wild man running around the docks 
looking for a berth. I immediately went in search of this wonder- 
ful person and before long I overlook him and asked him his busi- 
ness. He told me that he was Col. Duncan F. D. Neill, commodore 
of the Lipton fleet, and that he was trying to find accommodations 
for his party on their return from Washington. He was looking 
for a berth for the yacht Erin and he could not find one. Unwit- 
tingly he had come to the right party or, perhaps, it would be just 
as well to say, the right party had gone to him, and in a very short 
space of time I managed to get him exactly what he wanted and a 
more pleased man would be hard to find. 

So grateful was he that when the gates of pier 8, North River, 
were thrown open at twelve thirty a.m. to receive Sir Thomas and 
his party that he went out of his way to find me in order to intro- 


duce me to Sir Thomas. I had heard and read a great deal about 
the titled sportsman, but I had no idea that he was the kind of a 
man that I found him to be, — democratic, whole-souled, and decidedly 
magnetic. Before I was aware of it I was chatting with him as if 
I had known him for many years instead of minutes. We even went 
so far as to talk family matters and when he found that my wife 
was a native of Edinburgh, he gave me two tickets in order that 
we might view the first race from the deck of the Erin. But that 
was not to be for I\Irs. H. said that the deck of the Erin was no place 
for a New York policeman and his family of ten on an occasion 
like that, and insisted that I return the tickets and ask for a signed 
photograph of Sir Thomas instead. 

I followed her instructions to the letter. Policemen, you know, 
are taught to obey and respect authority, and I have never regretted it. 
In a few days I received the picture at the station house and it 
is superfluous to say that I have it yet. Thus it was I first met Sir 
Thomas J. Lipton, Bart. From time to time we hear from each 
other and every time he visits America we make it a point to meet. 
The reply to my letter was the following telegram : 

Dear Mr. Hickey: 

I have just received your letter. Do not leave Southampton until I arrive. I 
have wired Mr. Chambers, the chief steward aboard the Eri)i, to have you taken 
care of. Will see you in a few days. 

To say that I was elated would be putting it mildly indeed for 
here was a chance to see and talk to some one that I knew, and I 
can tell you I was getting sore with John J. Hickey. He is a good 
fellow in many ways, but I do not like to be with him too much 

After I had seen G. D. aboard his train I went directly to the 
House of Commons and sent my card in to Mr. Redmond, Ireland's 
leader. His greeting was warm indeed and he saw to it personally 
that I had a good seat in the strangers' gallery, for such is the name 
given to that part where visitors are allowed as spectators. The pro- 
ceedings were extremely interesting to me and I was greatly sur- 
prised when it came time to close at one thirty a. m. 

I had not contemplated any trouble in getting back to my hotel, 
but when I reached the street I learned tliat in this particular part 
of the city the buses ceased running at one fifteen a.m., and then I 
knew that I had a good walk before me. In fact it was a walk of 
more than four miles and here was a splendid opportunity to see 
London by night, so instead of taking a direct course I made my 
way along the Thames Embankment. The night was warm and pleas- 


ant and the stone benches all had their tenants sleeping away the dark 

There is something to me that is very pathetic about this side of 
life; one would think that by this time I would be hardened to it 
but I doubt if I ever will. The poor unfortunates without a roof 
to cover their heads always make an appeal to me which leaves me 
sad and pensive. My rambles took me around Scotland Yard. Isn't it 
strange how one will navigate and hover about that which he knows 
the most. I could no more resist going to this celebrated police 
center than I could fly; thence to St, George's Barracks, through 
Charing Cross, Trafalgar Square, down Bond Street, past the Brit- 
ish Museum, across Covent Garden, into Blommsbury, and finally ar- 
riving at my hotel something about five a. m. 

And now while we are all here in London I want to give to any 
of my readers who may visit London a little piece of advice on a 
subject which few indeed give any attention to until the very last 
minute, and even then it is not attended to as it should be. What 
every visitor to London should do is to purchase an up-to-date map 
of the city. Get the latest published, otherwise trouble is likely to 
ensue. The topography of London, like that of New York, is always 
being changed. New streets are cut through and frequently the old 
ones for some reason or other change their names. It would be the 
height of absurdity for me to attempt an explanation, and instead 
of doing so I will, with your permission, give you in a few words 
the history of King Edward Street, a thoroughfare that I knew from 
beginning to end. Its first name was Striking Lane which it bore for 
quite a number of years, then it was renamed Chick-Lane. Why ? I am 
unable to say. The next we hear of the place it has become Blowbladder 
Street and tradition has it that the butchers used to kill their sheep 
there and were in the practice of blowing the liver up with pipe so 
make it appear thicker. Before long the Lord Mayor prosecuted these 
people and the name of the place became Butcher Hall Lane which it 
retained until 1843 when it received its present title. This is only a 
sample of many that I could cite and it shows why I advise the use of 
an up-to-date map. Of course the leading thoroughfares will always 
bear the same names but visitors are not expected, and they would 
not if they could to stay on the principal streets. London at its best is 
a hard proposition and they who are deficient in orientation should 
protect themselves in every way possible. 

As I said my arrival at the hotel that morning was in the neighbor- 
hood of five o'clock and much to my surprise it was closed. This, 
however, did not bother me very much. There are more ways than 
two of getting people out of bed and a cop is supposed to know at least 


three, so I was quickly in my bed but not to sleep. Do what I would 
I was fast awake and I stayed so until I arose thoroughly disgusted; 
took a bath, dressed myself, and went in search of something to eat. 
During the repast I cited my experience to the proprietor. For an 
instant he seemed to be worried, then he asked what room I had. I 
told him Number nineteen. "Ha, ha," he laughed, "that accounts for 
it. The room is haunted," then seeing my look of astonishment he 
quickly added, "but not by evil spirits," and after a moment or two of 
reflection he said, "I might as well tell you now, and tonight you will 
sleep all right. This hotel you should know, Mr. Hickey, is one of the 
oldest in all of London. More than three hundred years ago it was 
the property of Mr. James Harper, the Lord Mayor of London, and 
was known as No. 5 Harper Street and many of the greatest men of 
the world have slept in it. In your room, Number nineteen, Peter the 
Great slept for a goodly number of nights while he was in England by 
invitation of William III. That he was in England at the time was not 
generally known but from what I can read no precautions were taken 
to keep it a secret, and let me tell you, Mr. Hickey, that Alexeywitch 
was some king, and at the same time what do you imagine he was in 
England for? For a vacation? Not on your life. He was out for 
information at first-hand. He wanted to see how things were done, 
and just before coming to England he had been working as a common 
everyday laborer in a shipyard seeing how ships were made. That's 
the kind of man he was, and it's no wonder he was called great. He 
certainly was a hustler and when he left England, what do you think 
he did? He took with him more than five hundred of our best 
engineers, surgeons, and artisans of all kinds, and it was said, and I 
don't doubt it for a minute, that he knew personally every man he 
hired and what's more he knew the class of work he could do. This 
little family party left England in April and arrived in Russia some- 
time during September. 

"They were called upon to slow down in those days. It was so 
many miles per day if the weather and other conditions permitted, if it 
didn't it was only another day added to the journey and they were all 
just as well pleased. So you see, Mr. Hickey, you had good company. 
Another of the occupants of your room was Thomas Bamington 
Macauley, better known nowadays as Lord Macauley. Of course he 
had the room before I assumed the management as did Peter the Great, 
but the records show that he occupied them for a considerable spell 
and I am told that some of his best writings were done in room nine- 
teen. But be that as it may I am not charging you extra for the fact 
that you have the room in which these noblemen lived and worked, but 


if your spirit has come in contact with their spirits you should be 
a better man." 

Perhaps I am, but the only thing I am certain of is that thereafter 
I slept much better and therefore felt better. 

Either in a paper or on a poster, I forget which, I read that there 
would be an excursion to Paris Saturday, July 31, and as it was to be 
at greatly reduced rates I thought it would be a good time for me to go 
over to France and begin my traveling once more. So with this 
thought in mind I visited the American Consulate and made known to 
him my intentions. They listened attentively and politely but when 
I was through talking they told me in so many words not to go. They 
gave me no specific reason only a veiled hint at coming trouble, the 
worst thing they could possibly have done. Me, Hickey, a New York 
cop, staying away from a place just because there might be a little 
trouble ? Why that is what I had been hunting for for the last twenty- 
five years. Could you possibly conceive of anything more ridiculous? 
The advice had its efifect. I went back to my hotel, packed a grip, 
bought a ticket, and was in Paris at midnight. My arrival was not quite 
just as I had thought it would be, for instead of finding quietness I 
found the reverse. Everybody was excited, and to make matters 
worse they all talked French, and of course I did not know what it 
was about. But fortunately one of the party understood the language 
and he told us that they had just killed two men, Germans, and were 
hunting around to kill a few more and advised us to get to a hotel and 
stay off the streets until daylight. This time I did as I was told, but 
sleep was out of the question. It was noise, noise, noise, and occasion- 
ally a little more noise just to keep things going. Towards early 
morning it slackened up and I did manage to get a few winks ; it 
proved a good thing for me that I did. After a bath and breakfast I 
went out to get some idea as to what Paris looked like. 

Naturally I was loath to go very far or to make many turns. I 
would not have hesitated had I understood the language, but being 
handicapped in this respect I had to observe a certain amount of caution 
so as to keep by bearings. As to where I went and what I saw I have 
no idea of. I know that the people seemed to be excited and nervous, 
but withal orderly. After a good midday meal I again took to the 
streets, this time, however, things looked different and at a little after 
three p.m. August 1st, war had been declared. It seemed to me as if 
they were crazy, great shouting and hurrahing and I could feel that 
something was wrong. It was up to me to get back to my hotel as 
quickly as I could but it was no easy job, let me tell you. The streets 
were packed with men, women, and children, and they all seemed to 
know each other. At last I met a person whom I took to be an 


Englishman, He wasn't, however, and if it had been left to him he 
would have undoubtedly said that he was a better man than that for 
he came direct from Ireland. He told me that war had been declared 
and everybody was wild. The news was enough for me and to this 
day I cannot say whether or no I thanked him. I now knew why the 
American Consul had advised me to stay in London and if I had been 
in a hurry to get out of there, I was certainly in one to get back. It 
only took me three minutes to pack my grip, pay my bill, and hustle to 
the steamboat landing. And therein I showed my wisdom, for long 
before we were ready for sailing the gangplanks had been drawn away 
and people by the hundreds were refused passage; as it was I had to 
remain on deck and sleep the best way I could. Sometimes a woman's 
heel would tap me on the head, then I would get a push in the back, and 
not being satisfied with this somebody would try to roll over me. It 
was indeed an enjoyable trip. We were all happy, though, for each and 
every one of us were imbued with the same thought, "How lucky 
we were to get away from Paris." 

Looking back at it now I am glad I took the trip, I have been in 
Paris and I had seen Paris, How much I saw of it I cannot say, neither 
can I tell you what I heard but the experience was worth the risk. 
It is not given to every one to witness what I did in Paris and for that 
matter I would not of my own free will go through the affair again. 
Once is enough and I think I know when I have had enough. 

When I went back to the American Consul's office and told him 
that I had been in Paris every one looked at me and smiled, and 
ended up by asking me why I was back in London. Just as if they 
did not know better even than I did what had hapi^ened ; then the 
Consul congratulated me on my safe return and advised me to postpone 
my trip to Berlin. I had told him before what I contemplated doing 
and he had such an innocent face that for a moment I took him 
seriously but only for a moment, for I saw the absurdity of it and 
began to laugh. The rest of the office joined in. They all said that 
I was a good example of a New York cop and would like to see more 
of them. (Bull) I shook hands all around and left in good feeling. 

If Paris was excited London was not much better. It is said that 
Englishmen dislike to show their feelings but if you had been in 
London during the first few days of August, 1914, you would have 
said that it was just the reverse. Here in London I was more or less 
at home. I could understand what was being said and knew exactly 
where I was. Business had come almost to a standstill and every one 
was on the streets. It was impossible to stay indoors, the desire to 
hear the news overpowered every one. England was not, as yet, at 
war but she might be at any minute, and to miss hearing it proclaimed 


would be a calamity which could not even be thought of. Night was 
turned into day and they who had to sleep did so much against their 
inclinations. The arguments for and against war were plentiful and 
greatly to my surprise I soon learned that England was by no means 
united. I witnessed many things that would not have been tolerated in 
New York for instance. 

Talk about the freedom of speech in America, it's a hollow mockery 
compared to what I heard on the streets of London, and the police! 
Oh, how proud they make me feel of the boys in New York. We have 
been called the finest, and let me tell you the New York policeman is 
far ahead of anything in the way of police that I have seen. One 
striking instance comes vividly to me, I saw it through from beginning 
to end. It was at a demonstration^ as they called it, in Trafalgar 
Square. The orators were against war and their audience were with 
them to a man. Hundreds of flags, some red, others black, were con- 
stantly waving; at first the proceedings were orderly but this soon 
became too insipid for the speakers so they plunged headlong into 
assertions which were as remote from the truth as the sun is from the 
earth, but what mattered that to them. They wanted the people driven 
into a frenzy regardless of the means and consequences, and they 
succeeded. Then there appeared the mounted police. Oh, I thought, 
now order would be restored, but my God, I could hardly believe my 
own eyes — a policeman on horseback would drive into the crowd, snatch 
a flag here and there, and then try to get away. Mark me well, I said 
tried to get away. Why I was never more surprised in my life than 
when I saw the crowd surround the policeman and take from him the 
very flag that he was ordered to seize, and he allowed them to do it. 
Man alive, I could hardly credit my sight, and I stood spellbound for 
several minutes, thinking back to little old New York, and what us 
policemen would do under the circumstances. That is the reason why 
the good taxpayers of New York should be proud of their policemen 
because they can at all times depend upon them doing their duty, in 
an emergency of that character in particular. Why, we policemen of 
New York would call that cowardice, and we would not dare show 
our faces in the station house again if we valued our lives, for our 
position would automatically be gone, we would be drummed out of 
our job in disgrace, and that scarcely ever happens in New York, we 
have but one case in the history of the police department. 

That is one thing that you have to take your hat off to a New York 
cop for, there is nothing in the line of police duty that he goes after 
that he doesn't get, and woe be to him that would dare attempt to take 
it from him, for it would be death for either one or the other. Ex- 
perience makes fools wise, and the writer, by his thirty or more years 


of police life, has been through the mill and is well experienced to 
write or talk on a subject of that nature. Human nature is a wonder- 
ful thing and none of us, not even in a casual way, can understand it. 
I was walking along Threadneedle Street between the Bank of England 
and Royal Exchange buildings, and there on the steps of those two 
large buildings were many clerks and other employees laughing and 
joking among themselves. The seriousness of the moment did not 
appeal to them at all. For here was their bank closed, not on account 
of the lack of funds, oh, no, not because there was any danger of a run 
on the bank, but it was because its directors were afraid of tomorrow 
and what it might bring for it. They, the directors, knew that there 
was an absolute demand for war, there was no possible way to avoid it, 
and they feared not only the consequences of the future, but of all 
time, also of the lives of their loved ones and their laughing companions. 
When the writer took it upon himself to visit the old country, there 
were other things beside pleasure in his mind. Of course there was no 
thought of war on July 4, 1914, when I broke away from home to 
sail across the briny ocean, I had been in touch with several friends 
of the city of London police force. We were exchanging views about 
our standing as men of the force in both countries, and they were very 
much pleased to hear from me that we had instituted an organization 
for benevolent and protective purposes. I was asked to take a long 
vacation and come to London to organize the men of the London force, 
but I wrote them saying that that was impossible, but from time to 
time I would send them the information desired for such an organiza- 
tion, and on some future occasion when retired I would pay them a 
visit. In the meantime the forces of London organized a national 
UNION OF POLICE AND PRISON OFFICERS, founded Octobcr, 1913, with 
the motto of "Tyranny is not Discipline." The two principal or- 
ganizers were Inspector John Syme and J. Wilkinson. Inspector Syme 
was sent to jail for eight months charged with libeling the head of 
the force, who, by the way, is a cabinet officer, and while in jail the 
organization was carried on successfully by Mr. J. Wilkinson. So 
when J. J. Hickey sailed from New York it was more or less as a 
police propagandist, for I have been consulting the police in most every 
town and village that I have entered, and in such places that I learned 
were unorganized, I would preach instant organization to the men whom 
I met either on post or off post, and on leaving London I was asked 
to convey the best wishes of the London police to their brothers in every 
part of the earth that I might travel. And with that one thought 
uppermost in my mind, I did as requested, even in the few short hours 
that I was in Paris I talked shop to several of the "gendarmes," and 
explaining it also to the members of the Royal Irish Constabulary in 


Dublin and Cork. Wherever I put up I would make it my business to 
get in touch with some policeman who was willing to listen and prosper 
by my arguments. So that I was well received by the inspectors on 
duty around the House of Parliament and elsewhere, for when I would 
visit there I was escorted all over, and I was taken into places where 
the public is not allowed. I sat on the Lords' Woolsack and other 
places, and I did not have to trouble my parliamentary friends, John 
and Willie Redmond, T. P. O'Connor, or Sir James McCullum for a 
ticket for the strangers' gallery. The moment I arrived I was taken 
right up and given the best seat in the gallery, it made no difference 
how long the line of waiting was, or who the notables on this line — 
J. J. Hickey, the New York bobby, was first of all. Some favor I can 
assure you, particularly among the members of the London force. In 
spite of the great World War breaking out, and thousands of the 
policemen being called to the colors, for every member of the force 
is a reserve soldier or sailor, and can be called upon at any old time, 
the organization is now in fine condition. Besides that, they that is 
the Catholic members, like their brothers in New York, parade in a 
body to St. Patrick's Cathedral, there to be received by his Eminence 
Cardinal Bourne, and after the communion breakfast, or Benediction, 
they sit down to a collation served by the priests and spend a very 
pleasant day. They are known as the members of the "catholic 
guild/' and the last reports received by me are that they are nearing a 
membership of one thousand. Just imagine a thousand Catholic police- 
men on the police force of London. Of course, like in New York, there 
are some very poor Catholics who are more or less of a disgrace to their 
religion, for they are afraid to show their real colors and march out 
with their own Catholic brigade, and show to the world that even 
though you are a policeman you never forget your duty to God. I 
love to talk to the few old timers that I meet of organization, and what 
the London policemen have done since 1913, raised their pay and 
lessened their hours of patrol, and made their life worth living. But 
alas, I don't find many good old time cops around any more; there 
are one or two grafters still living and they are still in the same old 
grafting scheming game. After grafting their promotion and a house 
or two they are still grafting in retirement. I know them and am 
man enough to tell them just what they are, but what's the use, their 
day is coming just as sure as the night turns into day, so surely will 
they fade away. 

My last letter from the London police was from Mr. Wilkinson, 
stating that Inspector Syme is well and the membership is growing 
stronger every day, and that he was on his way to Scotland and the 
north of England, putting the police of each and every place that he 


travels through on an organized footing, and hopes to have the United 
Kingdom organized before Easter. 

I wish that I could convey to my readers what London was Hke 
the first four days of August, 1914. We could all feel that war was 
coming, but until it did come there was in the words of many a sporting 
chance, and even if it did come it was only a matter of days, perhaps 
two or three weeks, and surely no longer than a couple of months. I 
hardly believe that at that time there was a soul in London, except 
those in high authority, who had any idea that the war would last 
more than six months, at the longest, and in a way it was a good 
thing that they thought and felt so. It had its psychological effect and 
aided materially in keeping down the panic which would surely have 
followed had they had even the faintest idea of the years of suffering 
they would have to look forward too. 

I now bethought myself of a duty I had promised to perform. A 
certain police official had asked me to look up the standing of a 
broker of London, who ran over to New York every once in a while, 
and he sure gave me some contract, for besides going into the different 
places where I might obtain the information desired, I also had to go 
into the army and navy club, and in war times this nosey business is 
dangerous, and none knew it better than your humble servant, but it 
had to be done. I walked into this club with an air of importance as 
if I was a member, but I was quickly stopped and put through the 
third and fourth degrees, asking me many pertinent questions, that, at 
any other time, I might have told them in good plain Cherry Hill 
language what I thought of them. But when they resorted to asking 
this old cop, "Mr. Hickey, what was your capacity as a policeman." 
They were getting altogether too darned personal, especially as I could 
see no place handy to prove it. But between the gigs and the jowls I 
obtained all of the desired information and wired it back to my friend 
in Police Headquarters of New York and he was happy for it saved 
him a trip across. 

How quickly men can change their minds. Prior to August fifth 
London was filled with people who were loath to leave it and were 
inventing all manner of excuses in order to remain longer, but with 
the dawn, yea, long before sunrise, there was not a steamboat ticket 
office in the whole city but what was besieged by a frantic mob all 
intent upon getting away, and few indeed who cared how they went 
as long as they could go. Inventing every story imaginable, such as 
a telegram from my boss to come right back. But the best excuse of 
all was made by one of the prettiest young ladies one could ask to 
know or see, and it goes without saying she succeeded. I was watch- 
ing her and was near the window when she approached. Taking her 


return ticket out of her bag she presented it to the man in charge and 
said, "My fiance is an Englishman, he is now in New York and will not 
leave there until I return. England will need him so I am shortening 
my visit by six weeks as my ticket shows." There -was a short con- 
ference, then the young lady was asked to step into a private office ; she 
was only in there a few minutes when she came out smiling. I hope 
she was telling the truth but a pretty girl and documentary evidence 
sways many a jury over to her side. I speak from three corners — I 
was a policeman, I am married, and I have five daughters. Do you 
want me to qualify further ? 

For my part I had no desire to return to America. I had left it 
with the idea that I was to stay away for at least a year and I was not 
going to return until I had to, but that is not to say that I was going 
to stay in London much longer. I was getting tired of extra, extra, 
extra, extra, war, war, war, and I have often wondered how much the 
papers of London made in this the first week of war. I have seen 
papers sold in New York during an excitement but nothing on the 
scale it was carried on in London. The presses must have run night 
and day. It was a harvest for the newsboy and others. 

Now I am going to say something about London that is seldom 
mentioned in good society or by travelers. In all of my readings about 
the wonderful city, and let me say I have managed to consume a vast 
quanity of material, I do not believe that I have ever read more than 
six or seven thousand articles regarding fog and rain in London. For 
some reason, difficult of explanation I will admit, no person who has 
ever been in London overlooks the chance to speak of its fogs and rain 
and more often than otherwise what they have to say on the subject 
is far from being complimentary. There seems to be no middle course 
and from what I can gather there is but one course, and that is not 
taught in a school of elocution. I thoroughly believe in being charitable 
and I am emphatically opposed to fault-finding, but I do not believe 
there exists anywhere in the world a writer that can do the subject 
justice. If there is one who thinks he can I would like to meet him, or 
her, and before we had talked many minutes I will convince him or her, 
that the thing is impossible. There may be some sidelights on the 
question which an expert could handle, in a way, but when it comes to 
taking the question as a whole London rain is too much even for the 
proverbial duck. 

It would be all right if it was only damp for a day or two, even 
for three or four days, but when it is stretched into weeks as it was 
while I was in the big city it quickly loses all of its charms and be- 
comes material that will keep a man out of heaven for the rest of 
his life. It seemed to me that it would never stop raining, and I was 

Former Chief of Police of N. Y. 

Courtesy of Police Magazine 


Courtesy of The National Police Magazine 





Courtesy of Joe Mitchell Chappie, National Magazine 



forced to carry with me, it made no difference how hot it was, an 
umbrella or a raincoat, and it was this fact more than any other 
which impelled me to hasten my departure, and when I received a 
letter from my good friend George Doherty of Londonderry, inviting 
me to call on him I had no hesitation in arriving at a decision. But 
before leaving London and its rains and fogs, I will tell you, my 
readers who some day may be fortunate enough to visit the city, of 
two plagues ; it no doubt will prove of great value to you when there. 

No matter whichever way a man may turn in London he is sure to 
spy a flag, sometimes it is the ordinary English Jack, but more often 
it is a flag that he or she is entirely ignorant of. These flags are not 
as one would naturally suppose used for ornament or decoration, but 
each and every one of them have a significance which, when understood, 
makes things easy. For instance, when Parliament is sitting the 
Union Jack tops the flagstaff and it is a waste of time going there if 
not flying, unless to inspect the building. If the Royal Standard is 
flying over Buckingham Palace the king is in residence ; likewise if 
the Prince of Wales is in town his standard is flying over St. James 
Palace. It is a very pleasant sight to see the different embassy and 
legation flags in the residential quarters of the West End of London, 
they tell their own story. On the edge of the Horse Guard's parade 
grounds a blood red flag with a yellow anchor flaunts itself in the 
breeze marking the Board of Admiralty. Over the Mansion House at 
the foot of Cheapside in the heart of the city of London proper, can 
be seen flying the Banner of England. It is a pretty flag, pure white 
with a glaring red St. George's cross. Trinity House has its own 
banner differing from that of the Mansion House in the fact that in 
each of the four comers is an ancient ship. It is in Cockspur Street, 
however, that one meets with flags, flags, and more flags, in every con- 
ceivable color and size, but they are only the flags of the different 
steamship companies and have no further significance. 

As an illustration of the old saying that the world is small, and 
no matter how far away from home one may be, you will meet at 
some time some where some one whom you know. I will recount an 
incident. It was at the height of the excitement in London, England, 
August 5, 1914, and while walking along the Haymarket I was saluted 
with, "Hey Hickey, old man, how are you ?" Turning about to see who 
it was, I could have dropped in my tracks, for it was no less a personage 
than Mr. Charles Oscar Maas, lieutenant commander of the American 
Red Cross and an old-time acquaintance whose office was on Nassau 
Street, New York, Our greetings were hot. I was going to be con- 
ventional and say warm but the word lacks that difference which is 
to be found between the two — hot and warm. We talked of this and, 


discussed that and he, being a lawyer, we reviewed several of the cases 
in which I, as a policeman, and he as a counsel, had participated. 

His surprise at seeing me in London was no greater than mine, 
at seeing him there. We had lunch together and when I told him of 
my intentions of going over to Ireland, he tried hard to persuade me 
to go back home by the first boat leaving, but he had overlooked the 
fact that he was talking to John J. Hickey, one of New York's finest, 
and when he at last realized to whom he was talking, he broke out into 
a laugh, and said, "Mr. Hickey, if I had your sticktoitiveness I'd be 
on the bench today." 

It did me a whole lot of good to meet Mr. Maas, for it is a pleasure 
for one to meet a man from his own home town, particularly at such 
a time. Of course we had to speak of the war, but only to merely 
mention it, the bellicose had to for the time-being retire to the rear and 
let friendship come to the front. Before we parted he requested that 
I write him and keep him posted as to my whereabouts and ad- 
monished me to make it my first duty to call upon him if through 
some mischance I should happen into trouble. I promised to do so and 
although I wrote him several times I never heard from him, and since 
then I have learned that my dear good friend has gone to Blighty. 
Peace be to him. 


Rambling Through Old Ireland My Stay of Several Weeks in 
Dublin, visiting Mr. Richard Croker at "Sandyford/' visiting 
the Beautiful "Vale of Avoca" and Tom Moore's Tree, and 
Traveling Over the Wicklow Hills, the Hunting Ground of 
"Brennan on the Moor" the famous Irish Outlaw, who 
robbed the Rich and gave it to the Poor. Also visiting 
Trinity College, the Bank of Ireland, Formerly the Irish 
Parliamentery House, Dublin Castle, Glasinhaven 
Cemetery, Phoenix Park, the Hill of Loeth, in Fact All 
Places of Interest, Both in and Around that Grand Old 

I left London on the eighth day of August, 1914, at 11 p.m., arriving 
in Dublin the next day and in no way was I disappointed. In fact, I 
can truthfully say that what I had heard and read about this wonder- 
ful old city had not prepared me at all to realize what Dublin is really 
like. In a way I was conversant with its history and also the stories 
of its principal buildings, but when I came to see them face to face I 
was more than astonished. I was enraptured. I roamed about the city 
"from early morn' till late at night." I watched the brave lads em- 
barking for the seat of war to take part in the bloody battle of Mons, 
then at its height, and many were the sad partings that I witnessed. 

In some way or other it had gotten into the heads of the powers that 
be, the army and navy officials, that it would be much easier and that 
it would expedite matters to send the men away during the wee small 
hours of the morning, just as if the mothers, wives, and sweethearts 
of those good men would not brave the darkness to bid them a last 
farewell. But it was shown then and there that they did not understand 
or know the feelings of the Irish heart, or they would have known that 
these poor women would have faced hell's fire to say goodby. There 
is one trait in the Irish character that no one with truth can say they are 
lacking in, and that is affection. 

No more sympathetic people live than the Irish, they may be hot- 
headed and unreasonable at times ; they may have their fights and their 
brawls, but when it comes to extending pity they are there not only with 
words but with deeds, be it enemy or friend that is in trouble. I would 



like nothing better then to tell my readers of what I saw in and around 
Dublin, but when I remember that there are upon the shelves of our 
libraries in New York more than seven thousand books devoted to 
Ireland and twice that number that only devoted from five to one hun- 
dred pages on the subject, I lit my pipe and reflected. I saw that once 
more Irleand had to suffer an injustice, only seven thousand books. 
Why man alive fifty thousand books would not begin to tell anything 
about this wonderful little emerald of the sea, and the longer that I 
studied the question the more impossible I found it to be. 

After being in Dublin a day or so I wrote Mr. Richard Croker, my 
old Tammany Hall boss, informing him of my visit to Dublin, and 
that I was, if he so desired, going to call upon him before leaving Dublin, 
for I had known Mr. Croker for many years. I received a call that 
evening, "Come tomorrow, John." 

Next morning bright and early found me on my way to the Har- 
court Street railroad depot, booking up for Rathdrum, I fully enjoyed 
the long ride through the beautiful country, and when I arrived at Rath- 
drum, I found a car waiting. We were very soon at the beautiful estate 
of Mr. Croker, one of the finest domains in all Ireland. Mr. Croker 
came out to greet me and was very glad to have me call and tell him all 
about his many good old friends in New York, among whom were ex- 
Corporation Counsel John Whalen, P. J. Kendelton, and others. I 
spent a very pleasant afternoon with him and a more ideal host it 
would be hard to find, for he took me under his personal charge and 
after a hearty luncheon we went together on a tour of inspection. 

What a grand place it is and how proud the old chieftain was of it, 
but if he was proud of it as a whole his feelings were concentrated in 
his stables. He waxed elequent over them, and his men were just as 
enthusiastic as he, and it is my private opinion that Mr. Croker could 
sit down and talk horse for a week and then not feel as if he had done 
the subject justice. I never met a man more carried away over a hobby, 
but then I am not what would be called a horseman. I can talk of 
yachts and boating by the day, week or month, and perhaps longer so 
I guess it is only the way you look at it after all. Richard Croker, say 
what you may in regards to his politics, was a magnetic man for he drew 
people to him and it was never better shown than right here in Ireland. 
It would be more than your Hfe is worth even to hint that Mr. Croker 
was not some sort of a human god, for he was beloved by all and every 
one was more than anxious to do the thing that pleased him. 

When it came time for me to leave, he asked me to say to his 
friends in New York that he sent his best wishes and hoped soon to be 
in New York with them, and with a hearty shake of the hand we 


I wrote to my old friend E. W. Drew of the New York Herald, and 
mentioned the fact that I had called on Mr. Croker, and I received the 
following letter in reply : 

Herald office, N .Y. C, Sunday morning, 

August 24th, 1914. 
Dear Mr. Hickey: 

I was greatly pleased to receive your letter which arrived early Sunday 
morning, about two o'clock. 1 am inclosing a clipping of what the Herald 
printed about your friend, officer "Dan" Rinn, now in London, England, and I 
did not want to see the doings of John Hickey left out, hence this little enclosed 
item, which may interest you. 

I am glad to hear that you are enjoying your vacation and hope you will 
return home safe and sound. Also that this reaches you O. K. 

Sincerely your friend, 

E. W. Drew. 

Editorial staff of the New York Herald. 

Imagine my feelings when I opened the letter and out dropped a 
story about ten inches long of Officer John J. Hickey, retired from the 
New York police force, now in the employ of the New York Herald, 
calling on and taking luncheon with Richard Croker in Ireland. I am 
holding this letter among many others of a like character for future 

This notice of Mr. Croker coming to America soon was a beat on all 
the other papers, and it so happened that Mrs. Croker number one died 
shortly after, and Mr. Croker cajne to New York to bury his former 
wife. I met Mr. Croker at the Democratic Club, and explained that 
the news report published in the New York Herald of August, 1914, 
was not of my seeking, and the good old gentleman said, "you can't 
help those things, Mr. Hickey." 

On my arrival at the Claredon Hotel, overlooking the "Liffey" 
River, where I was stopping, among others was a letter from my old 
friend Mr. George Doherty, the magistrate of Londonderry, Ireland, 
containing the following news item, to wit : 

Londonderry, Aug. 10th, 1914. 
My dear friend Mr. Hickey: 

I am very sorry indeed to have to inform you of the fact that I am in receipt 
of a letter from Sir Thomas, forwarded to me by Mr. Westwood, stating that 
on account of this unfortunate war the yacht races in New York will have to 
be postponed so you will be relieved of your contract, that is, to take the Sham- 
rocks from Londonderry to Sir Thomas in New York, but remember that this 
does not release you from calling upon me in Londonderry on your way back to 
fair New York. I have a fairly good time awaiting you and I assure you that 
you will not have to walk around hungry when you call upon your esteemed friend. 
I will show you, my dear friend, how we treat our friends in Ireland. I am not 
by any means casting reflections on our innocent visit to mighty London, no, no, 
but when I see Sir Thomas, indeed I will tell him all you have to answer for. 


And in conclusion, my dear friend, trusting that you are enjoying the beauties 
of dear old Ireland, believe me, I am as ever. 

Yours sincerely, 

George Doherty, J. P. 

Mr. John J. Hickey, 
c/o Clarendon Hotel, 
Dublin, Ireland. 

There was also a letter from Sir Thomas, per J. W. Westwood, his 
private secretary, calling my attention to the postponement of the yacht 
races in New York, September, 1914, and some other personal matters. 

Well there I was free and clear to go where I pleased. I could not 
call on my friend George Doherty, J. P., because of the trouble between 
the Irish volunteers and the Carson volunteers; I had done all of my 
fighting in New York as a policeman, and was not looking to get mixed 
up in the Donnybrook Fair fighting of my Irish friends, but as a matter 
of fact I did join the John Redmond volunteers while stopping at 
Turner's Hotel in Cork City, and I still retain my card of membership 
and badge presented to me, and continued to pay my dues after returning 
to New York. 

Of course, I realized that as far as the continent of Europe was con- 
cerned it was entirely out of the question at this time, consequently I 
was forced to change my program. But why worry, there I was in dear 
old Ireland, the home of my ancestors, drinking good Irish buttermilk, 
and a sip of Hennessey's best every now and then, with plenty of sweet 
Irish colleens to be seen and heard poking fun at the Yankee, telling me 

that I will never leave Ireland again, so that I was having a h 1 of a 

time. But there was one happy thought with me at all times, and that 
was that I would return in good health before my dear old mother would 
be summoned to her maker, and I thank God I did, for I returned and 
found my mother fit and well, God taking her in May, 1916, aged 
eighty-four. I paid a visit to the "Vale of Avoca," and bid Dublin 
goodby, visiting Cork City and the many counties I passed through, 
Limerick, Cashel, Tipperary and Water ford. 

After a visit to Guinness's Brewery, just up the Quay from my 
hotel, I returned to answer the letter received from J. W. Westwood, 
secretary to Sir Thomas, describing to him my feelings at the bitter 
disappointment and hoping to meet Sir Thomas and Mr. Westwood in 
New York at some future date. We met in 1919 and again in 1920, in 
which year Sir Thomas Lipton won two races out of five, and to my 
mind he would have won the third race had Captain B. had the backbone 
to answer yes when asked by the racing committee did he care to race 
today, it was blowing hard, but Shamrock IV could stand a gale, and 
would surely have crossed the line a victor. The brave-hearted sailors 
were perfectly willing to take a chance; they had faced worse when 


crossing the big pond, and they are at all times willing to lay down their 
lives for the "big cheif'^ who, on many occasions, has proved himself 
a father to his employees, constantly doing something for humanity. 

The one good kind act of Sir Thomas that should stand out more 
to us New Yorkers is his contribution of five hundred dollars each 
and every year to the Christmas fund of one of our newspapers, I 
wonder how many of us Americans are aware of this charitable act of 
kindness? But that is not all, I could keep on writing of the many 
good deeds of this world-wide sportsman and noble character. The 
good people of Glasgow, Scotland, presented Sir Thomas with the free- 
dom of that great city, October 2, 1923, for his kindness and charity, 
and I am free to say that there are many more honors awaiting this 
generous son of "erin.'' 

Sir Thomas will be here again in a few months, bringing with him 
a new boat. Shamrock V, and he will again attempt to win the famous 
"Americas Cup." His never say die spirit, never leaves this good- 
hearted baronet, and I, for one American, wish Sir Thomas and his 
Shamrock V every success. Yes, dear readers, there are many other 
Americans feel as I do in this matter, for they believe as I do, "Success 
is the reward of perseverance," and God knows that Sir Thomas has 
persevered and deserves to win this famous cup that has been resting 
here since the year eighteen hundred and fifty-one, and it is time to give 
it freedom. 

December 6, 1925. After a happy stay of six weeks Sir Thomas 
sailed for Southampton, England, aboard the S. S. Leviathan, and his 
old friend, J. J. Hickey, was the last of his many friends to say goodby. 
And to my surprise I received a radiogram at 1.30 a. m., Sunday, 
December 7th, from that famous Irish sportsman on the high seas : 




I simply want my readers to know how this great Yachtsman ap- 
preciates a kindness, it makes no difference be it from rich or poor, it 
is all the same to Tom Lipton the man. Sir Thomas is quite a story- 
teller himself, and don't forget that this very busy man also enjoys a 
good story, and when you get Police Commissioner Dick Enright and 
this world's renowned yachtsman, Tom Lipton, together you can rest 
assured that you are in for a splendid night's fun. As the author of 
this work has often enjoyed the company of these two great men, he is 
privileged to write of such. 


But I am going to tell you a few stories about Sir Thomas and his 
several visits here that will cause you to laugh some, and no doubt some 
more. Sir Thomas Lipton, in spite of the fact that he cannot keep all 
of his engagements while here, never forgets to motor to Sing Sing 
and to say a word of cheer to its inmates. Just before leaving for home 
Sir Thomas paid his usual visit to this great penal institution on the 
shores of the beautiful Hudson River, and having talked to most all of 
the prisoners he got up against a big, fine-looking fellow in citizen 
clothes, who was telling Sir Thomas of the splendid position that he held 
in the jail and how he appreciated the job. Sir Thomas shook hands 
with this great trusty and wished him luck, hoping that he would live 
many years to enjoy his good job. 

But to the surprise of Sir Thomas one of the party tucked at his 

coat tails, and said, "Why, Sir Thomas, you have made a great mistake." 

"Why, how is that," said Sir Thomas, "the fellow told me of his 

good job and I congratulated him, hoping that he would be there many 

more years to enjoy it. Was not that in the right spirit?" 

"Yes, Sir Thomas, but you did not know your man, that man is a 
prisoner serving time for perjury. That is Anderson of prohibition 

"Heavenly Father," said Sir Thomas, "How was I to know that 
man. Dear me, I am no mind reader. Come, let us get away home 
Westwood. Good night. Warden." 

J. W. Westwood has been the faithful secretary to Sir Thomas for 
more than twenty years past, and they are always together, yes, bosom 
friends, I recall on a former visit of Sir Thomas to Sing Sing, the 
grand old sailor refereed a baseball game among the prisoners for a 
silver loving cup that was presented by Sir Thomas. And the boys were 
more than made happy that day, and in fact every day when they were 
visited by that great Irish yachtsman, and they are always happy to 
hear of his coming back to New York. And for his many kindnesses to 
them the men of the Welfare League of Sing Sing Prison has elected 
Sir Thomas Lipton to honorary membership of their great organization, 
but that is not all. When Sir Thomas was about to sail for home the 
members of the league called a meeting, passing a vote of thanks and 
success to Sir Thomas, and they called upon Commissioner Weinstock 
to convey same to Sir Thomas forthwith, also a m.essage of thanks, 
joy, and a fond farewell. And just before the first whistle blew all 
ashore Commissioner Weinstock came running on board out of breath, 
handing the message to Sir Thomas, who asked his many friends to 
gather around to hear the message read. 

I was not sure that I was included and I held back, and Sir Thomas 
turned around and said, "Come, Mr. Plickey, hear the reading of this 


message." I was carried away for I thought it was a new deed of gift, 
that the commodore and officials of the New York Yacht Ckib had 
drawn up, handing over to our great sportsman friend the American 
Cup, and God knows that he deserved it, for never was there a gamer 
sport ever try to Hft it than Sir Thomas, unless Lieutenant Henn many 
years ago. But to my mind there is no comparison. 

Well Sir Thomas, gathered his friends all close together, and called 
on Commissioner Weinstock to read the precious document. All was 
quiet until the Commissioner came to one particular paragraph that read 
as follows : "Sir Thomas, we the members of the Welfare League wish 
to you a happy and a joyful voyage over and a successful speedy return, 
and you may be sure. Sir Thomas, that on your return the gates of 
Sing Sing prison will be wide open to receive you." I at once burst out 
laughing and everybody looked at me in amazement, until I said, "Com- 
missioner, please read that paragraph again," and having done so, why 
the whole party laughed and laughed a plenty. 

"Heavenly Father," said Sir Thomas, "gentlemen, I don't mind com- 
ing to visit your beautiful shores to try to lift that blooming mug, but 
darned if I want to become an inmate of your prison, no, no." 

The whole party stayed so long laughing over the joke, that the first 
thing we knew the S. S. Baltic was sailing down the Bay, and tug- 
boats were sent out to take us off. Oh, but those were the happy days. 

Sir Thomas has met with many wonders in his travels around the 
world, even treading upon ground that no other white man ever trod, 
not even the late Colonel Teddy Roosevelt, meeting with such characters 
as Mike Kelly of Drogheda, Ireland, in the service of the Burmese gov- 
ernment and an old-time member of his staff who had gone to Hell and 
was appointed sergeant-at-arms to the devil and all of his domains, on 
another of his visits in a far-off land. But this was the greatest and 
most trying wonder of them all, to think that for being kind he was to be 
reconciled to membership as a member of Sing Sing's Welfare League 
The good old warrior has been granted many honors and titles, but for 
his kindness to the poor of New York each year the Hon. John F. 
Hylan granted to Sir Thomas the freedom of New York ; and to crown 
it all. Police Commissioner Richard E. Enright appointed Sir Thomas 
an Honorary Chief of Police, because of his kindness and cheerful 
treatment of the members of his administration. 

Dear readers, here is another interesting story, unknown to the world 
of the private life of Sir Thomas Lipton, that your humble servant is 
privileged to write up. When the papers published the news item of 
Sir Thomas Lipton visiting Sing Sing, the mother and sisters of the 
Diamond Brothers, now in the death house at Sing Sing awaiting execu- 
tion for their share in that rascally and villainous double murder in the 


West End Bank robbery, called upon Sir Thomas and appealed to this 
good, noble-hearted sportsman to use his influence to get the son and 
brothers a new trial, or a commutation of sentence, or something similar. 
Sir Thomas met the ladies good naturedly and invited them into his own 
private reception room, and listened to their sorrowful story. And 
after presenting their appeal Sir Thomas said, "My good women, my 
heart bleeds for you, and you have my greatest sympathy, in this your 
hour of need, and may the Heavenly Father assist you, at this unfor- 
tunate time. But you know, ladies, that I am only a visitor to your lovely 
country, and while 1 love and respect your country and her people, it 
would be ill-becoming of me to attempt to interfere with this country's 
laws, rules, and usages, particularly in a case of this kind. I visit your 
country every now and then to meet the many thousands of good friends 
I have here, and incidentally to lift the America's Cup, but my dear 
women, if I never lift the cup, I will never do anything to lose the love 
and friendship of your lovely people, and I would deserve condemna- 
tion and the loss of this friendship if I ever dared interfere with their 
courts or their honored judges' rulings." 

I stopped off in County Kildare for a day to see the famous Cur- 
rugh of Kildare and other points of interest in Limerick, paying a visit 
to the famous "Treaty" Stone, the Golden Vale, and other patriotic 
shrines, then on to Cashel to visit "Goold's Cross," the famous "Rock 
of Cashel," and other points of interest, and then I made my way into 
County Tipperary, for I had promised my good friend. Police Lieutenant 
Matt McGrath, the champion weight thrower of the world, that I would 
sure go and visit his old home and folks, and I was given a right royal 
welcome staying there a week, and lordy, how pleased they were to 
have an ex-policeman, a life-long friend of their fond son, Matthew, visit 
them. Of course, I had to tell them all that Matt was doing in America, 
breaking records every year, and what a grand position he was holding 
in New York, bossing the famous New York traffic squad with the 
power of a king, inasmuch as that all Matt had to do was to raise his 
big strong arm and all of New York had to stop. My, how those poor 
good-natured people did chuckle when they heard all this good news 
from and about their broth of a boy, the hero of many "Olympiads," 
yes, the champion of them all in the past and still going strong. 

But when it came time for leaving I had a wild time breaking away 
from those decent good old Irish folk, but I had to go, for I was past 
my time due to call upon my own folks, the few left of my own family 
in far-off County Cork. Arriving at Mallow, I then had to change cars 
for the county seat of the Hickey's Newmarket, County Cork, and 
again I was in for a good time, two weeks to fill the bill. 


I visited the family of Philpot's, the descendants of the celebrated 
John Philpot Curran, the great barrister at law and Irish leader, and 
father of Robert Emmett's sweetheart, Sarah Curran, whose remains lie 
buried in the pretty little churchyard of the town of Newmarket, 
Christ's Church. It was my mission every morning, while stopping 
there, to visit Sarah Curran's grave, and to drink of the wishing well 
that overlooks the famous river by "Hook or by Crook," the only way 
that Cromwell could get into Ireland. 

There is nothing that I know of which would afford me more pleasure 
than to give to my readers a detailed account of my itinerary in Ireland, 
but as I have stated elsewhere there are so many books on the subject 
that it would be like taking coals out of Newcastle, which being trans- 
lated into the vocabulary of New York's polite society means, "don't 
crowd us." So instead of proceeding in an orderly fashion from town 
to village and from village to city, I have tried to introduce you to the 
prominent people that I have met dropping off here and there in my 
travels. My cousin being the steward of the Altworth Estate it was a 
simple matter for me to procure a permit to visit this historical place, 
which, by the way, is never opened to the public. Among the many 
features of the estate is a museum. Naturally the collections are by no 
means large or extensive but what is shown is authentic and well worth 
seeing. There is, for instance, a geranium which they claim is more 
than three hundred years old, and I should say it was, if size is any in- 
dication, its box was fully as large as a packing case and no specimen 
that I have ever seen was one tenth its size. I was permitted to take 
a piece of it, thinking that perhaps I could get it to grow when back in 

Another curio which they cherish highly is the masonic apron worn 
by Lady Mary when she was initiated into freemasonry. The story is 
told that Lord Donneraile, the father of Lady Mary Donneraile, or as 
she was titled Lady Mary St. Ledger, was grand master of the Grand 
Lodge of Ireland, and it was his practice to call all meetings of its mem- 
bers in the castle. At the time Lady Mary was but sixteen years of age, 
full of life and curiosity, and the idea that she was excluded from the 
room in which these gentlemen held their meetings did not please her 
at all, and accordingly she busied herself thinking of some way that she 
could find out what they were doing. Fate seemed to be on her side, 
for in the room stood what we call today a grandfather's clock, so she 
removed the pendulum and stood up inside the clock, closing the door. 

Lady Mary, however, overlooked the fact that it required endurance 
beyond her strength to see the thing through. Her position within the 
clock's case was unnatural and confined, and while she might endure it 
for an hour or two, beyond that was out of the question, the con- 


sequences were that before the meeting was half over Lady Mary was 
forced to reveal herself. After the surprise and consternation were over 
and the members of the lodge had satisfied themselves that Lady Mary 
was alone, they at once called upon the grand master to appoint a com- 
mittee to try her. Lady Mary was then placed on trial, and after a 
given time a verdict of guilty was brought in against her and she was 
sentenced to death. Colonel Altworth then a young man and a member 
of the lodge, appealed against the decision and so eloquent was his plead- 
ing that the members consented to reconsider their verdict, so that the 
sentence of death was withdrawn. 

Then the question was what punishment should they inflict upon her 
as a warning to all other busybodies. After talking over the question 
for an hour or more, they came to the conclusion that she should suffer 
to have the index finger of her left hand cut off, and they further 
ordered that she be sworn in as a member of the Masonic order, and 
those orders were carried out to the letter forthwith. 

And by the amputation of her finger and swearing her into the 
order, Lady Mary Donneraile became the first Lady Freemason in the 
world. So goes the story. 

Colonel Altworth and Lady Mary became fast friends, and one day 
the Colonel asked her hand in marriage and being accepted they were 
married and lived happily for many years. 

Queen Elizabeth became very much attached to the Altworths, and 
often journeyed over to Newmarket to spend a week or two with them, 
hunting and otherwise enjoying herself on the estate, and among the 
relics is a pair of stockings and several articles of clothing once worn by 
Queen Elizabeth, all inclosed in a glass case in the royal ballroom. 

There is a notable collection of swords, epaulettes, spurs, guns, and 
armour that belonged to the Irish princes who had fought with Strong- 
bow in his invasion of Ireland. There is a very large oil painting of 
Lady Mary, hanging in the royal ballroom, plainly showing that the 
index finger of her left hand had been amputated. 

Every morning I would wander down to Christ Churchyard, and 
ramble through this grand old cemetery, stopping at the grave of Sarah 
Curran Sturgeon, formerly the betrothed of young Robert Emmett. 
My readers no doubt are aware of the fact, that before the execution 
of Robert Emmett, he pleaded with Sarah Curran to marry Captain 
Sturgeon for kindness to him while in captivity. The captain being a 
member of the British army, Miss Curran was not in agreement with 
young Emmett's desire, but for her loved one, young Emmett, she would 
sacrifice most anything. Captain and Mrs. Sturgeon lie buried in 
the grave and I don't know why but I could not for a moment think 
of anything else but to visit the dead in this beautiful little churchyard, 


every morning for the two weeks that I stopped there. My mind was 
often carried back to the dark days of Sarah Curran's life when she was 
disowned and ordered from the house by her stern old father, John 
Philpot Curran, the great Irish barrister. 

Sarah Curran was forced to leave her home and fireside and fly 
to Cork City, forty miles away, in the darkest and meanest hours of 
night, for "Dark's the hour before the dawn." Sarah Curran was taken 
in and cared for by some friends living in Penrose Park, Glanmire, 
Cork City. 

But shortly after the execution of Robert Emmett, Captain Sturgeon 
and Sarah were married. Sarah became reconciled to and lived with 
her father until death. 

Having paid my respects to Newmarket and its people, both dead 
and alive, I bid the pretty place a long farewell, and took the first train 
out for Cork City. 

Arriving there I booked up at Turner's Hotel on Great George's 
Street, the busiest part of the city and the stopping place of the Rt. 
Rev. Bishop Coholan, and the clergy of all Ireland, when visiting Cork 
City; also of William O'Brien, M.P., and many of the other Irish 
Members of Parliament, in fact every man of prominence booked up 
at Turner's Hotel. 

I paid a visit to Mr. Thomas Crosby, editor of the Cork Examiner, 
to deliver a message from Mr. Redmond, the Irish leader, and we talked 
over the topics of the day, both at home and abroad. 

I then visited the meeting place of my good friends, Mike Collins, 
Pat Kiley, J. MacCurtain of the volunteers. 


My visit to Cork City ; those I met and what I saw while stay- 

Volunteers, and attending their drill; meeting many Men 
OF Prominence, among them Michal Collins, P. J. Kiley, of 
the Cork Butter Exchange, and others. Visiting Black 
Rock Castle, the Cork Races, kissing the Blarney Stone, 
visiting the Hon. Daniel F. Cohalan at his beautiful 


Ireland Farewell on my way to the Land of Sunshine, 
Happiness, and Greenbacks, Little Old New York 

While visiting Cork City, Ireland, in September, 1914, I met several 
of the officers of the Cork City Battalion, Irish National Volunteers, 
who were at that time followers of the Irish Parliamentary leader, 
John E. Redmond, Esq., M. P. I was invited to their place of meeting 
and elected a member of Company F, and I still hold my card of 

The Cooperative Society of all Ireland was about to hold a con- 
vention in Cork City, and Mr. Kiley invited me to be present and to 
my surprise I was elected the American representative, and called upon 
to address the convention, and it goes without saying that I did my best 
to uphold the supremacy of our own wonderful country, America, and 
I took my seat amid much applause. A banquet followed and lasted 
until early morning. 

Before leaving Cork I made it my business to learn all I could about 
this great organization, the Cooperative Society of the Emerald Isle, 
and I learned that it is something much needed in Ireland, and is doing 
a wonderful lot of good work, and accomplishing a feat never before 
dreamed of. Every county in Ireland was represented at this conven- 
tion, and there were many ladies present, the wives and daughters of 
the delegates. This was the only holiday they had had during the entire 
year, and they took mighty good care to make it a good one. 

Ireland was then prosperous and happy, bonfires were burning on 
all the hillsides in honor of the signing of the Home Rule Bill that was 
passed in the House of Commons, by the dint of hard work of the Irish 
National Parliamentary party under the leadership of John Redmond, 
and signed by King George. 



The last person that I expected to meet in Ireland was the Hon. 
Daniel F. Cohalan, Justice of the Supreme Court of New York. And 
if it had not been for the Right Rev. Monsignor O'Leary, pastor of St. 
Patrick's Church, Clonakilty County, Cork, Ireland, the birthplace of 
my father, where I was then visiting and had become acquainted with 
the Monsignor, to whom I went to ascertain the whereabouts of the 
Chidwick family, I having a message to deliver to them from the Right 
Rev. Monsignor John P. Chidwick, formerly a police chaplain, whom 
I had called upon before leaving New York, I undoubtedly would have 
missed seeing my honorable friend Justice Cohalan, whom I have known 
for nearly forty years. 

It came about through a remark that I made concerning the late 
Right Rev. Monsignor Luke J. Evers, Pastor of St. Andrews Church, 
Duane Street and City Hall Place, New York City, and the founder of 
the working people's midnight mass, and my esteemed friend of many 
years, who died June, 1924. 

"Are you from New York?" inquired the Monsignor, and on being 
told that I was, he asked me if I knew Supreme Court Justice Daniel 
F. Cohalan. I could hardly believe my ears, and I answered, "Yes, 
Monsignor, I have had the pleasure of knowing the honorable gentle- 
man for many years." 

"Well," he said, "Justice Cohalan is living but fifteen miles from 
here and you must not leave until you call upon him. Where are you 
stopping, Mr. Hickey," asked the Monsignor, and I told him at Turner's 
Hotel, Cork City, sixty-five miles away. "You had better put up 
at Donovan's Hotel just up Sovereign Street a short walk from here, 
and after high mass tomorrow you will ask Mrs. Donovan to have a car 
ready to take you out to Glandore, where you are to meet Justice 
Cohalan and family." I followed the instructions given me by the 
Monsignor and spent a very fine day on the west coast of Cork. 

My calling of course was unannounced, but nevertheless the Justice 
was very glad to see me, and he did all in his power to make my visit 
a happy one. We strolled around the beautiful estate, inspecting the 
lawns and buildings, the flower beds and tropical plants, and a number 
of the finest palm trees to be seen in the British Isles, and many other 
things of interest. But before starting on this interesting tour of in- 
pection. Justice Cohalan said, "Mr. Hickey, I am glad you came. The 
Court finds you guilty, and the sentence is that you follow the Justice 
of the Court about his place and listen to him without comment." I 
followed out to the letter the sentence imposed upon me and I never 
passed a pleasanter couple of hours in my life. 

Justice Cohalan had come in possession of this beautiful estate 
through a fortunate chain of events. The Rev. Bishop Doane, the 


former owner, having been transferred to Cork City, some sixty-five 
miles away, was forced to sell this grand estate that he idealized and 
spent many happy hours cultivating and beautifying, making it second 
to none in all Ireland. But it was of no use. He was the Protestant 
bishop of Cork, and he like all good soldiers went wherever he was 
ordered to go and no questions were asked of his superiors either, but 
it was a sad blow to the bishop to leave his happy hunting ground, 
overlooking the beautiful harbor of Glandore, one of the prettiest sights 
in all Ireland that presents itself to the delight of all, and from this 
lovely place on the top of a mountain some three hundred feet high 
can be seen the big ocean steamers going backwards and forwards 
to America and England. 

The Cohalan estate commands a view of the Irish Sea that is un- 
surpassed, but if the sea view is entrancing the land vista is equally so. 
To the south, west and north, as far as the eye can reach, was the 
beautiful emerald, that soft pleasing green which has caused the poets 
to call it the Emerald Isle. The meadows, the fields, and the trees were 
still green ; no signs of the coming autumn were visible, and I could 
have stood there for hours admiring the natural wonder of the sur- 
rounding country, but the Honorable Justice had other things in store 
for me. 

He wanted me to see what could be done in Ireland if one set about 
doing it. His collection of exotic and tropical plants was surprising 
and how he managed to remember their names and places of origin was 
bewildering to me. 

He would say a couple of words which would measure at least a 
yard and a half in length and follow them up by saying it comes from 
Hindustan or some other place where cocktails don't grow. 

Bishop Doane, it seems, was a man who had a great love for plants 
and had devoted much of his time to their cultivation. Some of the 
specimens, so the Justice informed me, were almost priceless owing to 
their extreme rarity. The Bishop also had a natural taste for landscape 
and the way the big estate was laid out proved it, and allow me to add 
here that in Justice Cohalan, Bishop Doane has a worthy successor ; he 
is every bit as enthusiastic as the Bishop, and if anything prouder of 
his possession, than Bishop Doane could have been. 

At luncheon, which followed the survey of the estate, we discussed 
New York from the Battery to Harlem and talked seriously of our 
return to the big city. 

At the begining of our conversation I was for staying in Ireland for 
a much longer period, but when Justice Cohalan informed me that the 
ports of entry were to be closed October first and remain so until the 
close of, the war, I saw matters in a much, diflferent light. I had with me 


Supreme Regent. 

Past Grand Regent, Supreme Treasurer. 

Grand Representative and Supreme Represen- 

Past Regent, Chairman of Games Committee. 

f < » I I ( I f ( f ( ( ( I I f ( ( I I I < < ' I 

U . ^_> +- 4_. 


enough money to carry me for several months, but if I could not get 
any more, what could I do ? 

Common sense told me to get home as quickly as I could, but in- 
clination fought it at every turn. 

I was in Ireland, fulfilHng my dreams of forty years, and I wanted 
dearly to stay for at least one year, but without money it was impossible 
and out of the question. So when the time came for me to leave Glan- 
dore and return to my hotel in Cork City, sixty miles away, I told Jus- 
tice Cohalan that I would meet him in Queenstown, now known as 
Cobb, on the morning of September the twenty-third, the day of 
sailing of the S. S. Cedric of the White Star Line for New York. 

I had made up my mind that a part of my duty in Ireland, in 
fact I pledged myself to my friends of the John F. Aheam Association 
in New York, before leaving that I would kiss the Blarney Stone or die 
in the attempt. Others before me had done it, or at least they said 
that they had kissed this famous stone, and they lived to talk about it, 
then why not I ; but whether they were any better off for so doing I 
cannot say, but I do know this much that I kissed this stone, and at the 
risk of my life, and I suppose that if I went back to Ireland again to- 
morrow, I would go again and kiss this wonderful Blarney Stone, so 
that I may obtain all of the charms and blessings that follow those that 
have undertaken to kiss it, and believe me it is no easy job, but "More 
power to them" that undertake the contract. 

I am very much pleased to state that the Hon. Daniel F. Cohalan 
and his fond loving family spent the summer of 1923 and 1924, at his 
beautiful estate in Ireland. Owing to the unfortunate trouble in Ire- 
land for the past few years, and the manly stand that Justice Cohalan 
took in behalf of the struggling of poor old Ireland, it was not safe for 
him to visit his estate. But now that Ireland is free and once more 
prosperous under the able management of her own, the free state 
GOVERNMENT, may God in his divine wisdom restore Ireland and her 
people to happiness and prosperity forever more, so that the unfortunate 
troubles of the past shall be once and forever forgotten, "with the 


So one morning, bright and early, I got into a jaunting car and 
drove to the famous Blarney Castle, paid threepence for admission 
which gives one the right to walk through the castle grounds. Blarney 
Castle is a glum-looking place, but to kiss the famous Blarney Stone, 
it is necessary to enter the old castle and climb the many stairs before 
arriving at the top among her battlements from which many a shot was 
fired in the days of Strongbow. 

Indeed to climb this old castle is enough to drive a fellow to drink. 


In fact, I think if some enterprising American opened a barroom on the 
roof of old Blarney Castle, he would no doubt soon make a fortune, 
for while his customers would not be so plentiful nevertheless those 
that go there would be very well satisfied to pay a dollar for a good 
drink of Irish potheen, a little of the old cratur to help him over the 
road, as it were. 

When I arrived at the castle roof, a young couple were just leaving. 
Oh, yes, Blarney Castle is a great place for lovers, and I was sorry 
that my presence had perhaps driven this couple away, but that could 
not be avoided under the circumstance and I went about my business 
thinking to find others on the roof when I got there. But no, it was 
deserted and I was alone, there to think back to the days of the fighting 
Clan McCarthy and his men, of the stormy days of Ireland in the long 

The stone, as you undoubtedly know, is so placed that in order to 
kiss it one must be held by the ankles, and as I was without companions, 
I had to wait and depend on strangers to perform that duty for me. 
I had waited fully an hour and it seemed like a week or two, when at 
last I heard voices of a lady and two gentlemen approaching. They 
had seen me without my seeing them, and the young lady called up say- 
ing, "Hey, mister, is the Blarney Stone up there?" I called down "Yes." 
"Well," she shouted again, won't you please kiss it for me?" I 
answered, "I am very sorry, but that is one thing that you certainly 
must do yourself," and soon the party joined me and I sure was glad 
to meet them. The young lady took one look at the stone and said it 
was enough; there would be no kissing for her, she was satisfied to let 
it go as it was. 

Here was my opportunity and I proceeded to grab it and after a 
gi'eat deal of persuasion on my part I succeeded in getting the two 
gentlemen to consent to hold my ankles and let me down so that I might 
kiss this world-famous stone, and it only goes to show to what extent 
a matured man, a man of responsibility, will go to gratify a whim which 
even though he is successful in the gratification, profits him absolutely 
nothing, truly as the poet says: "Men are but children of a larger 

For fear that these gentlemen would repent, I, instead of taking 
off my coat and vest buttoned them and quickly as I could began to 
wriggle through the opening and this of itself is no small task for a 
person of my size. I have read somewhere that tlie human race is 
gradually growing smaller in stature, but if the hole in the wall of the 
old castle is any criterion by which we can form some idea as to the 
size of the people when it was built, I would have ranked as a giant and 
yet I am not quite six feet tall. It was not an easy thing to do by any 


means, but by sticking to it I managed at last to perform my osculatory 
mission and as soon as I did it I looked down. "Ye Gods, what fools 
these mortals be." There I was suspended in mid-air, trusting my life 
to two downright strangers, men I did not know in any way and who 
knew less of me. If they should happen to fail there was a fall of at 
least one hundred feet. 

The return is more difficult than the going down owing to the fact 
that the arms must be kept extended and my coat fell down over my 
head, leaving me in darkness. There is absolutely no way of aiding 
your supporters, but luck was with me and I got back all right; never 
again, though, will I attempt such a foolhardy trick. Man alive, if I was 
to be paid for doing it I would demand at least a thousand dollars, and 
I know that no insurance company would assume the risk. Of course, 
I was more or less profuse in my thanks to the two gentlemen whom I 
found were both sweating freely from their task, and on asking them 
their names the younger one said his name was Craig and his com- 
panion's was Judge Brown. 

They were somewhat surprised to learn that I was a retired member 
of the New York police force as they, too, were Americans, and if 
this should ever meet their eyes I would be pleased indeed to hear from 
either of them. 

The enjoyment of travel in Ireland lies not so much in going from 
place to place and revelling in the beautiful scenery, but in the people 
themselves, the sons and daughters of the soil. 

They are a free people, if I may be allowed the expression, and 
friendly beyond comparison ; in fact it would be nearer the truth to say 
to a fault. I would that I could tell you in detail the grand times I had 
with them even in my first hour's acquaintance. They open their 
hearts to you at once and it would be a mean character who could find 
it in his heart to take advantage of their simplicity. 

Unfortunately many of them are illiterate to an alarming extent, 
being unable to either read or write and knowing little or nothing about 
any place except through hearsay. I met many a man and woman much 
older than myself who had never been two miles away from the place 
where they were born, but what they lack in education they make up in 
memory and I have often wished that I could tell a story as well as 
these poor simple folks. 

There must be something in the soil and the climate that imparts to 
them this wonderful gift, for gift it is, as it cannot be taught, neither 
can it be acquired, yet even the children are natural born tellers of 
stories. I quickly realized this condition and I made it a practice to seek 
out some elderly man for a companion, knowing full well that I would 
be the recipient of something worth while. 


The professionals, as you might term them of Ireland, such as 
drivers, jarveys, guides, and hotelkeepers, differ only in degree from 
those of their calling in other lands. They have a stock in trade which 
they rehearse whenever they think they will be paid for their recitations, 
and each and every one of them stands ready to embellish their stories 
to suit their audience ; but with the country people it is different, what 
they tell you they know of or they repeat exactly the story that has been 
handed down to them from generation to generation. 

One story in particular I remember distinctly, for it spoiled the 
whole afternoon for me, so I will repeat it here. I had strolled away 
off the beaten paths, perhaps a distance of two or more miles around 
the lakes of Killarney, and seeing an elderly man in the field I went over 
to him and engaged him in conversation. We had been talking for at 
least an hour when he told me the story of a girl named Nora who had 
lived in his village some hundred years ago. 

Had an orator recited the story it would have had no more than 
the usual result of a sad tale, but this simple child of Nature so told it 
that in spite of myself the tears ran down my cheeks and I was de- 
pressed for the balance of the day. 

On the other hand they can unfold tales which will make your sides 
ache from laughter and could I but write them as I heard them I would 
be crowned at once as the greatest humorist in the land. 

While in Queenstown I visited Roche's Island and there I saw a 
very handsome monument erected by an Englishman in memory of 
his wife. This is, of course, as it should be, but when I read the in- 
scription carved upon it I was so struck that I had to copy it for the 
benefit of any of my readers who collect such material. 

"Sleep, darling, sleep, beneath this mouldering sod, 
Hoping to get one better, I gave you up to God." 

In many ways my visit to Ireland was marred and interfered with 
by the war. The Honorable John E. Redmond, to whom must be 
given the honor of succeeding in passing the Home Rule Bill, had kept 
his word to Lord Kitchener and the grand little island was feeling the 
effects more and more every day. Lord Kitchener had asked for twelve 
thousand men, but Redmond promised one hundred thousand and to 
the amazement of all England he raised them and more too. Ireland 
was now beginning to feel the strain and realize the 3rain. 

Her young men had gone to the front and it had its effects in every 
branch of trade and industry, but the people were, nevertheless, cheer- 
ful and decidedly optimistic; never did I hear a complaining word or 
even an intimation of discontent. 

Sorrow to the Irish is no stranger ; it is a much more frequent guest 


than the world at large is aware of and only to their intimates do they 
let it be known that the unwelcomed is once more a visitor. 

Perhaps at this time there was no man in all of Ireland better hated 
and better loved than John E. Redmond. Redmond occupied no middle 
place with the people of Ireland; he was at either end of the road or 
may be it would be better to say that he was at both ends at the same 
time. To some he was almost a god, while to others the only thing he 
lacked from being a perfect devil was cloven feet, and I'm not sure 
but many thought he had them, hiding them from view by the shoes 
he wore. 

It was ticklish business to begin an argument or only a conversation 
about John E. Redmond even when you felt you were on safe 
ground. It is an old adage that says, "Great men make enemies," and 
if this is true, J. E. Redmond must have been great indeed for his 
enemies abounded everywhere through it did not seem to affect him 
very much. 

On the contrary, I think it acted as a stimulant to him, but God 
knows he did not need it, in fact it would have been much better for 
him if he had allowed himself to cool down. Indefatigable is the only 
word which describes the man, rest and idleness were to him utter 

I watched him night and day in the House of Commons, and I can 
say in all truth that I never sav/ such an untiring worker. It seemed to 
me that he was at all times afraid that he was neglecting something, 
leaving something undone, or overlooking a matter of great importance. 

Alert and watchful as he was, he yet could always find time to greet 
his many friends. Democratic but never demagogic, magnetic and sym- 
pathetic, he was a man fitted for the place, but it is all passed now and 
John E. Redmond lives but in history, his place is among the immortals 
and while Ireland's history lives he will live with it. 

There is one place in Ireland that were it in or near New York I 
fear its existence would be short indeed if they continued their practice 
of receiving guests at no fixed charge, and that is the Monastery of 
Mount Mellery, the home of the Trappist's monks. It is a beautiful 
place and looks inviting to the traveler, but it is only in looks and these, 
as the saying is, are often deceiving for unless you are fortunate enough 
to meet Brother Robert you will get no response either to question or 
salute, for every member has taken the vow of silence. 

With Brother Robert it is a little different; he will speak if it is 
necessary, but he will never under any circumstances volunteer the 
slightest information. 

He will also show you a room which will be yours as long as you 
choose to stay, a day or a year, it makes no difference to them, they 


will serve you with food and if you feel like going away without putting 
a donation in the little basket which hangs on the wall you can do so and 
that will be all there is to it. 

I am told that a great many people try the experiment of staying 
there, but rarely last more than twenty-four hours, seldom that long. 
The spectacle of men all about, every one attending to his duty and not 
one of them ever speaking is too much for the average person and he 
cheerfully drops his donation into the basket and gets away as fast as 
politeness allows him. 

I had never until my visit to the monastery fully understood what 
our ex-President Theodore Roosevelt really meant when, after I had 
been talking to him for some time said, "Hickey, you'll never make a 
Trappist," and now I am sure that he was right. I like to hear people 
talk and how could I managed to keep silence all of the time? 

The riparian right of Ireland are something which should be thor- 
oughly looked into by any one thinking of buying a place, if there should 
be a ruin on the property and perhaps it would be policy for the in- 
vestor to look up the question of river especially if he comes from 

Many of the Irish rivers would not even be dignified in America 
by the name of creek yet the law reads that any one may fish where the 
river flows and this leads up to the experience of Mr. Charles F. 
Murphy, no, not C. F, Murphy of Tammany Hall, but C. F. Murphy of 
Cork, the great brewer of porter and stout. Mr. Murphy, so the story 
goes, and my informant was one of the leading actors in the affair, 
decided to buy a castle facing Black Rock Castle with grounds and 

One of the greatest salmon rivers in the world is near Queenstown. 
He had finished the transaction, and with Mrs. Murphy was on a tour 
of inspection around and about the property when upon looking up 
they saw two men fishing from a small bridge which spanned the 

"Hey," shouted Mr. Murphy, "what are you doing there?" 

"Fishing," was the response. 

"Well you can get out of here as quick as you can travel. This is 
my property now and I forbid fishing," said Mr. Murphy. 

"Your'e a lucky man, Mr. Murphy, you've bought a fine place, but 
don't you know the law says we can fish wherever the tide flows ?" 

"Nonsense," shouted Mr. Murphy, "if it was to run into my bed- 
room you could fish there could you ?" 

"We could," I said and at that Mr. Murphy went back to the castle 
and called up the police and in a little while along comes the sergeant 
and orders us off the place. 


I laughed at him and told him to go back to his masters and look 
up the book and he would find that it said what I had told Mr. Murphy. 
He went away and after a pause he added, ''We have been fishing there 
ever since." ' il v-j 

Ireland still retains much of its primitiveness. Progress as we con- 
sider it is unknown in many parts of the beautiful island and from what 
I could see and judge it is likely to remain so for many years to come 
especially if the villages and hamlets are some distance from the railroad. 
Repeatedly have I walked through the principal street of a town at 
night and only found one small oil lamp lighting the whole place. Cur- 
few would have to ring some time in the afternoon if the people of 
these places were expected to observe it. Sundown puts a stop to all 
regular business and it's time for good people to be in their homes. 
My life as a policeman had made me indifferent to hours and if I am 
on the street I seldom notice the time. 

I was walking along a lane in Newmarket, it was only a little more 
than a path, consequently it was not paved, and it was impossible to 
hear any one coming up on you from the rear and twice I had been 
slightly touched on the arm and had stepped a little aside. But at last 
I was given a more forcible push and thinking it was some woman on 
her way home, raising my hat, I said, "I beg your pardon," and stepped 
off the path. It was a female all right, but not the kind that I was 
taught to salute, it was a cow. I had several experiences of a like nature, 
but I kept my hat on my head. 

One Sunday morning I had the pleasure of listening to one of the 
finest patriotic sermons I have ever heard. I shall not attempt to recite 
the sermon, but will give you a few excerpts from it and from them you 
can imagine what the whole was like. 

"In going my rounds through the parish for the last two weeks I 
have heard nothing but tales of worry and woe about this dreadful war 
brought about by a wild man that thinks he should rule the world. 

"We all know that there is a war and we know who will be the 
victor, but victory is not to be had for the asking, we must fight for it. 

"If it comes here grab your guns like men and fight like the devils 
you are. | 

"Don't let me hear of you running under the bed to hide away. 

"I have been listening to your shoutings for more than thirty years 
and time without number I have heard you say that this is my country 
and if she is in trouble I will fight for her, aye and die for her, so be 
men and when you are called upon respond in a body." This sermon 
was preached by Father Corbett, Newmarket, County Cork, Ireland. 

Is it any wonder that Ireland sent the men she did, when from every 
pulpit in the land came such messages. It was all I could do to refrain 


from cheering, but remembering where I was I kept my voice quiet, 
but my heart beat in full accord. The appeal had its immediate effect 
for the very next day the men of Cork began falling into line every 
afternoon and were drilled for hours, but this is all history now. At 
the time, however, it was tragic and it has been proven, as I have always 
contended, that the mental attitude towards a future possibility of 
suffering and calamity will more often than otherwise exaggerate and 
overestimate the actual liabilities. 

Perhaps, in a way, it is right for it is much better to be excessively 
careful than to be indifferent, yet the danger of a panic arising from 
such thoughts is great indeed and is prone to work more injury than 
good, and which is much more to be feared and dreaded. But Ireland 
was blessed with many cool heads at the time and despite the weakness 
of some they carried her through the struggle with honor and credit. 

What a perverse character old father time is? Only let him think 
that you are looking forward with regret and dreading the arrival of 
a certain day and the way he will hustle himself to get you to that day 
is almost beyond belief, but change the program and get him to think 
that you can hardly wait for the happy day and he'll slow down until 
you will feel like getting out and punching him, minutes will seem to be 
hours and the day will never end. And thus it was with me; the time 
was fast approaching when I should have to leave Ireland and not one 
twentieth of what I had planned was accomplished. The weeks had 
seemed but days and the days but hours, and yet every one who was 
with me at the time will tell you that I tried my best to make the days 

Up early and to bed late, if at all, was what I was doing all of the 
time. I did not want to leave, my passage was bought and paid for or 
I think I would have risked it and stayed. 

I am still of the belief that I acted hastily. I could have easily kept 
away from the larger towns, and who wants to see them anyway, all 
cities are ahke and the people in them are as indifferent to the stranger 
as they are to the dogs running their streets. 

Aside from the buildings and the monuments what matters to you 
what city you are in ; but the country. Ah ! how different ! The people 
friendly and the ever changing landscape warms your heart and even 
the trees seem to welcome you as they bow to the breeze. 

Of course the city speaks of enterprise and progress of wealth and 
what is derived from it, while the country and the uplands take you 
back to the days and times long gone. 

It tells you what the city will be, for from it come the people who 
make the town. It is the heart of the nation supplying it with blood 
and vigor, brains and sinew. 


The country is natural, the city artificial, and he who learns of the 
nation must go into the highways and byways ; he must leave the 
monuments of man and seek the resorts of Nature, and what country 
affords such material as Ireland, rich in history and overflowing with 
tradition and, to what in my mind is more important, free to them who 
will seek and ask. It is not necessary for one to go there and live 
amongst them for years in order to have them open their hearts to 
you. They have nothing to be ashamed of, therefore they have nothing 
to hide. 

Are they poor? Who knows it better than themselves; it is a mis- 
fortune, but no disgrace. Do they lack education? Who shall judge 
between the knowledge of letters and the simplicity of heart and mind. 
Are they uncouth? Tell me the difference between honesty and sham 
and I will answer the question. Life is nothing but a mix up, a little 
flour, a few drops of water, a lump or two of sugar, and a shake of 
spice, then comes the baking. 

I left Ireland on the afternoon of September 23, 1914, and returned 
to New York without incident. The U boats had just commenced their 
dirty work, so the trip was what could be called an adventure. Justice 
Cohalan was of course with me and his good fellowship helped to drive 
away my gloomy feelings. 

I do not remember ever doing anything in all my life which affected 
me more than leaving old Ireland at that time, all my plans had been 
upset, for I had met a sweet singing charming Colleen from Dunman- 
way, and we were talking of marriage, on our way to Glandore that 

Justice Cohalan, introduced me to Father O'Hea, of Courtmac- 
sherry, and the good Padre, now gone to rest, peace be to him, said that 
he would have a fine house for me to live in if I decided to stay in 

Glory be, can you blame me for cursing the mad Kaiser, and his 
terrible war, but what's the use, tomorrow the sun may be shining 
although it is dark and cloudy to day. 

My return to New York was almost an ovation, for I was sur- 
prised to see so many friends awaiting me on the pier, I was quite 
certain on the point of relatives, there were some two dozen or more of 
them and not a soul was missing at the dock to greet me ; but the many 
friends where they came from and how they knew that I was on that 
boat is a mystery to me. 

My hand and arm was sore for a week shaking hands and when 
and how I rolled into bed that night is purely personal history and not 
for publication. 

But it made no matter what I did the slogan travel appeared to me 


and while I did not see America first, for it was my intention to travel 
in my own country later, so that if increasing age came on me I would 
at least be happy at dying in my own country, and ofif I went on roving 
bent paying my fare and making all square, I sailed for California. 



I sailed from New York on the S.S. Creole of the Morgan Line, 
March 17, 1915, for the puprose of visiting the expositions of San 
Diego, and San Francisco, California. 

I also wanted to meet the police of each city that I was to stop off 
at and learn something about the different police systems in America. 
I was well supplied with credentials and letters of introduction to the 
chief of police of the larger cities, and to satisfy my mind I dropped off 
at some of the smaller places and was well received by the officers and 

After spending a very enjoyable five days in the company of Captain 
Jacobs, master of the S.S. Creole, and members of his family, 
we landed in New Orleans, and after booking up at the 
hotel I went out to look the place over and incidentally locate police 
headquarters, so that I would have no trouble finding it next day. 
Having obtained the necessary information, I returned to the hotel to 
get a decent night's sleep, as one cannot get that aboard ship, that is 
if situated as I was among new-found friends, who left nothing undone 
to make every minute of my time aboard ship one continuous round of 

Next morning I was at police headquarters bright and early, as I 
wanted to be present at the line-up of the crooks captured the day 
before, thinking that I might identify some traveling crook who, at 
some time or other, had visited New York City. And sure enough, I 
ran into a bad rascal who was wanted in New York, so that the police 
officials in New Orleans, who did not know this man, at once got in 
touch with police headquarters at New York and got this crook's pedi- 
gree, and I assure you that it was a long one and a bad one at that. 

Having sent in my card to Chief of Police Reynolds, after watching 
the line-up in the company of the Chief's special aid, James Grady, 
born and raised in the old fourth ward of Manhattan, I was received 
right royally. 

I was introduced to Captain Boyle and the headquarter's staff, and 
stayed in New Orleans ten days seeing everything worth seeing in the 
company of those good fellows of the headquarter's command. 

There were others that I was asked to call on in New Orleans as 



well as my police friends, for a member of the late Congressman 
Timothy D. Sullivan's family asked me to call on their cousin the Hon. 
John P. Sullivan, and I called on this gentleman and found that he was 
one of the most prominent citizens of that southern city. Yes, I found 
that Counselor Sullivan was known and respected by all and a promi- 
nent candidate for lieutenant-governor of the state. 

Mr. Sullivan was a prominent athlete and a former all-round cham- 
pion of the Pacific Coast, so that we talked athletics in all its forms 
since the earliest times, and the good name of our old athletic friend, 
James E. Sullivan of the A.A.U., who unfortunately is now past and 
gone, came in for much praise. 

Mr. Sullivan is one of the most prominent lawyers in New Orleans, 
and consequently a very busy man, so he called his chauffeur into his 
office and told him to take Mr. Hickey all over the city, and leave 
nothing unseen, and to be at his house that night and take dinner with 
his family and himself, after which he would take me to see a little girl 
from the fourth ward of Manhattan, a native of little old New York. 
It goes without saying that I complied with the request, and we went 
to see Blanche Walsh, the celebrated actress in "The Woman in the 
Case." Of course, I knew Blanche Walsh from childhood and on up in 
years. She used to take part in the schoolroom theatricals held in the 
basement of St. James Roman Catholic Church, New Bowery and James 
Street, New York City, with such noted characters as Governor Al 
Smith, Congressman Dunphy, Alderman Andy Noonan, and other cele- 
brated men of today. After the show we spent several hours together 
talking of the old days away back in New York. Blanche Walsh was 
very happy that night to meet a man that had grown up with her father. 
Fatty Walsh, and her uncle Congressman Tom Walsh, and other mem- 
bers of this celebrated family. We separated to meet again, but un- 
fortunately Blanche was taken sick and died before we could do so. 

I spent several happy evenings with Counselor Sullivan and family 
before leaving for the coast. 

Upon the request of an old friend, Mrs. Annie F. Curry, I called 
on her cousin, another bright New York boy in New Orleans, the 
Hon. Harry C. Donerhee, a prominent member of the Board of Trade 
of New Orleans, and this meant more entertainment, for Mr. Donerhee 
requested me to call at his office at five p.m. and we motored to his 
home, quite some distance from the city, there to meet his pretty 
wife and young son. After dinner we again got into the machine and 
rode back to the city and to the same theater, but not to meet Blanche 
Walsh, for she had gone. 

Next day I called upon Captain Boyle at police headquarters, and 
while talking to him a poor unfortunate young fellow came in and 


related a very pitiful story, and that good-natured old gentleman, 
Captain Boyle, with tears in his eyes aided him and gave him besides 
money a letter to a firm not far from police headquarters, requesting 
that he be put to work. The captain told me the story and it certainly 
was a pitiful one, too long for me to relate at this time. 

Have you ever given it a thought that there is no provision made 
for the recording of a kindly act, or the doing of a kindness to an 
unfortunate? Let a policeman do a hundred kind acts and no one 
but he and the recipients know of it; but let him err ever so slightly 
and the whole world is told in less than twenty-four hours. There 
is no balance here, the weights are all at one end of the scale ready 
to be dropped into the pan at the first opportunity. 

New Orleans is a grand old city and speaks volumes for its 
founders. I felt as if I were in fairyland. Less than a week before I 
was where it was cold and bleak, the air raw and heavy, overcoats 
and goloshes were the order of the day ; but here the trees and flowers 
were in bloom, the air soft and mild, and the most perfect gin fizz 
that ever sweetened the lips of man was to be had at a nominal cost, 
for be it known to you, my readers, that it was in the city of New 
Orleans that gin fizz had its birth, and while we may drink them in 
New York and even ir London they are never like those to be had 
there. They are intoxicating; so are the lips of a pretty girl, and 
who, let me ask, would be satisfied with one half per cent of them? 

I would like to write you a first description of New Orleans, but 
I know better than to attempt it. Hundreds, yes thousands, much 
better qualified to do so have preceded me ; enough said. 

I have found it a very good idea to leave a place just when every- 
thing is going at its best, when your friends and acquaintances are 
looking for you, then is the time to depart, and the departing leaves 
behind you pleasant thoughts and memories on both sides. Never 
overstay a welcome and you will be sure of another when you return, 
and with this idea in mind I resumed my travels towards the setting 
sun early Sunday evening. 

I stopped off at Galveston, Houston and El Paso, Texas, staying 
three days, but believe me I had a very hard time to get away from 
El Paso, for the following reasons : 

I had no intentions of stopping there for I knew nothing of the 
place or anybody in it but for a commercial traveler that I palled in 
with on the train. In fact the commercial travelers were my guides 
all the way from the time that I left New Orleans. I would meet 
them getting on or off the train and they are a good-natured lot of 
fellows who would say, "Where are you stopping off next, Mr. 


Hickey?" and I would answer, "I don't know." "Well, why not stop 
off at such and such a place ?" 

I would ask, "Are there any big fat policemen there?" "Why, yes." 
"Then where will I stop?" "You go up to the main street and ask 
for Mr. So and So, and tell him I sent you. Here's my card." 

I would take their advice and was not sorry, for I learned of and 
saw many things that I, like others passing along, unless told of them 
would not know. For instance I stopped off in Yuma, the hottest 
place this side of where the fires are said to be burning all the time. 
I also stopped off in San Antonio, met the police officials, visited the 
"Alamo," the hot wells, and the old Missions. 

But the greeting that I received in El Paso was more than I ever 
expected, and it happened in this way. I was walking through the 
town and seeing a traffic policeman working, but not very busy then, 
I thought that I would go and introduce myself to the officer as I had 
been doing since I left New York for the trip across the big pond 
to Europe. For as a matter of fact men and women of all trades 
and callings like to hear of the successes or failures in their particular 
line of business, and we policemen are the same. When I told him 
that I was a New York policeman looking for information he looked 
at me in astonishment. "Gee, but I am pleased to meet you, for you're 
the first man that ever I saw here coming from New York, a police- 
man in particular." I told him that I had never known there was 
such a place, and if it had not been for the commercial traveler I, 
too, would have stayed right on the train bound for Los Angeles. 
After exchanging statements on the workings of the departmenfs, 
their pay and hours, he said, "Here comes my captain, at present 
acting chief." With that the captain walked up and the officer said, 
"Captain, meet Mr. Hickey, a New York poHceman." "Well, well," 
said the skipper, "How in h — 1 did you happen to stop off here ? Why 
you fellows from the East when riding to the coast just pass us by 
as if we were a pack of lepers. 

"Come with me, you New York cop, and I will show you that the 
cops of El Paso are not dead ones." He took me to a very fine hotel, 
ordered dinner for two, and phoned the station house to have his car 
sent over with his two specials, that is his two wardmen, and after 
dinner he took me all over El Paso, through Fort Bliss, introducing 
me to all the officials in charge. This kept up for three days and 
nights, and the captain said, "Now Officer Hickey, you have seen 
everything in this little city ; cross over the bridge there and you might 
be in time to see a bullfight in Juarez, old Mexico. It would be 
worth my life to attempt to go among the dam greasers over there." 

I went over and just missed the bullfight. I felt very much out of 


place, for I did not like the looks of the men or women, but falling 
in with an American gambler that plays the game over there, often 
winning the greasers' money, he asked me to go in and see the big 
gambling lay-out, and I went with him to a large gambling saloon 
run by a brother to Villa, the Mexican outlaw. 

I then went inland about a mile to the race track, saw three races 
and that was enough for me, for I got a touch of the creeps rubbing 
shoulders with that ferocious bunch, and longed to be back once more 
to dear old America. 

It was the week of Good Friday and I went into the old cathedral 
to pray, but for once in my life I cut my prayers short, I was told 
that only the day before thirty men were stood up outside the cathedral 
and shot, so I quickly thought to myself, "Well, if I am going to be 
shot then I want to be shot in America," jumped onto a car that 
crossed the bridge and circled around and back again over the bridge. 

That's fine company to be in, the company of those dirty bandits 
that would shoot an American down just as soon as looking at liim, 
that is on the one side of the small bridge, but when the worst of them 
are on the other side of the bridge, why a child can handle them, and 
Captain Greet at dinner that night told me some queer stories about 
those desperate bandits. "Why," he said, "Mr. Hickey, they are a 
lot of damned cowards when alone and off their own dunghill. Why 
I have walked the worst of them to the bridge and kicked their 
behinds and drove them before me, and not a word out of them, but 
of course if they ever got me over there it would be all day with me 
and I don't go." "Well," I said, "Captain you surprise me. I thought 
to read and hear about those desperate rascals that they were all the 
time desperate." "Why, no, Mr. Hickey, I wish you were here some- 
time when I have our cells full of them ; they are abject cowards." 

It being time for me to be making my getaway I said, "Captain, 
or as I should say Chief, I thank you very much for your kindness 
to me, a stranger, and if ever you are in New York give me a ring, 
and I will be only too glad to come and meet you. I have heard so 
much about shooting that I am in a hurry to get to big Jim Jeffries' 
saloon in Los Angeles, my stopping place there to get half shot." 

Chief William S. Greet and his men took me to the railroad depot, 
and in saying goodby the Chief said, "Mr. Hickey, when you go back 
to New York just tell those people there that when traveling to Cali- 
fornia, not to ride past El Paso, for we are all good red-blooded Ameri- 
cans here, and ever ready to greet our friends from the East, it 
makes no difference, police or citizen. El Paso will always hold out 
the right hand of good fellowship to any good American, from the 
East in particular. You might also say the same thing to your friends 


in California, for they, too, pass us up on their way to the East, and 
we have nothing here to be ashamed of. We are a Httle off the main 
trail between the East and West, but that should not count against 
us. Goodbye and good luck." 

I will never forget my visit to this pretty place and the reception 
I received, and I am living in hopes of again visiting my good friend 
the captain or as I heartily hope. Chief Greet, and his fine body of 

Our train soon pulled out of El Paso on her way to sunny Cali- 
fornia, and when we arrived at Colton the writer was a happy man. 
In passing through the orange, lemon, and walnut groves one would 
imagine he was in fairyland. It would take too long to tell of all the 
wonderful things one meets with on this beautiful trip to the coast 
of California; suffice it to say that we were soon in Los Angeles. I, 
having made Jim Jeffries' saloon my mailing address hurried there 
and with the assistance of my old friends, Jack Jeffries and Jimmy 
Kelly, the Jockey, I booked up at one of the hotels on Spring Street, 
and I visted police headquarters to meet Chief of Police Sylvester 
and his men, and after a pleasant evening I went back to the hotel 
for a good night's sleep. 

If I were to be asked what city in my estimation came the nearest 
to being New York I would say unhesitatingly Los Angeles, Cali- 
fornia, and if you asked me to explain I would have to refuse to 
answer as it is something I cannot do. The climate is in no way like 
that of New York. The plans of the two cities are very far apart, 
the surroundings are distinct one from the other as they can well be, 
yet there is an "at home" feeling which imparts content. Perhaps 
the likeness is in the people, I cannot say, for the more I try to make 
myself clear the deeper I get into trouble. 

My stay in Los Angeles was long enough for me to get acquainted 
with every phase of its life, day and night. That the people are wide 
awake goes without saying, but there is something else which they 
possess that makes this wakefulness count double, and that is their 
love for hard work. 

From the office boy to the president, from the scrub woman to 
the mistress, all are alike imbued with the willingness to buckle in to 
it. Do not think that I am trying to convey the idea that these people 
are strangers to pleasure; far from it. Neither do they take their 
pleasures seriously or, in other words, make a business of it as I have 
repeatedly seen it done in New York and London. 

A holiday crowd with long faces is about the sorriest thing you 
can meet with, but in all my stay in Los Angeles I never met even an 
individual who looked as if he was asking himself, "Is it worth while?" 

Before and After the Fire of September, 1924. 

Courtesy of National Magazine 



I made Los Angeles my headquarters while in southern Cahfornia, 
Going from place to place but returning to the city within a day or 
two and always pleased to do so. In San Diego the exposition was 
running in full force so I made it a point to visit it. I also had another 
motive in visiting San Diego. Over the line in old Mexico, at a place 
called Tia Juana, there was to be a bullfight and I wanted to see it 
very much. My record as a sport-loving cop is open to all who may 
look, and I was anxious to know everything about bullfighting. From 
boyhood I had read of it in the papers and books and my curiosity 
had been excited and when this opportunity came so neatly to me I 
thought I would almost be committing a wrong to neglect it. Saturday 
afternoon I visited the exposition. It was a grand affair but poorly 
patronized ; visitors were few and far between yet in every way it 
was worthy. I spent several hours wandering from place to place and 
was well rewarded. For the Sir Thomas Lipton exhibit was wonderful 
and took first prize. 

Sunday afternoon I attended the bullfight and my usual good luck 
followed me for a neighbor on my right not only understood Spanish, 
but he knew the game from start to finish ; he was also very sociable 
and ready to explain the fine points as they arose. Had I been alone, 
in my ignorance, I would have declared the game a poor imitation. 
As it is I am still not what you could call an enthusiast. Though if 
I were to see it a few times and could master its technique I have no 
doubt but that it would appeal to me. I think Alexander Pope, the 
poet, fully describes the feelings of the stranger towards a bullfight 
in the following lines much better than I could in prose. The reader, 
however, should substitute the word bullfight for vice. 

"Vice is a monster of so frightful mien 
As to be hated, needs but be seen ; 
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face 
We first endure, then pity, then embrace." 

The game is played in three parts. Some high "monkey monk" 
gives a sign and the bull is let out of his stall, and right off the reel 
the crowd knows at once what's coming off. If the bull has had 
things going wrong with him he sees his opportunity to get square 
and starts in at once, and then the picadors, they're the fellows on 
horseback, have to get busy. They have long lances with which they 
prick Mr. Bull first on one side then on the other, and things soon 
warm up and when a horse is wounded or a picador thrown, in runs 
the banderilleros. They are all togged up in gay ribbons and bright 
cloaks and it's their job to get the bull to think about them and forget 
the picadors, and if they are successful it's a ten to one chance that. 


the banderilleros takes to the audience by a high running jump over the 
palisades. In round three the ring is cleared, the bull master of the 
situation, and the matador, the star actor, appears. The bull no sooner 
sees him than he wishes to greet him. The matador has, besides his 
cloak which he is all the time waving at the bull, a long sword and 
the fight that now takes place is to the finish. There are plenty of 
chances for the matador to show not only his skill but his nerve as 
well, and the crowd is impartial to a wonderful degree, ready to shout 
their throats sore and blister their hands for the victor, be he man 
or beast. My neighbor was emphatic regarding the matador that we 
were watching that he was not only clumsy but brutal as well ; in fact, 
more of a butcher than a matador and to tell the truth that was just 
what I had sized him up to be. He seemed to take it to heart that 
my first view of a bullfight should be conducted by such a poor speci- 
men of a matador ; in truth I think he would have been better pleased 
if the matador had been killed instead of the bull. We left the ring- 
side stopping once or twice to get something to moisten our throats 
and he left me with a wish for better success next time. I hardly 
think that there will be a next time; I have had the satisfaction of 
seeing one bullfight and I do not care to see another. 

Sport, I am inclined to think, is greatly a matter of birth. For 
the Spaniard the bullfight is the king of sports, men, women, and 
children of all classes revel in it and many a poor fellow will pay his 
last cent to see it, trusting to luck to get something to eat. We of 
Anglo Saxon origin are prone to look upon it as cruel, but if I am 
right it is much less than a hundred years since bull baiting was 
abolished in England, and from what I have heard of this game I 
should say that bullfighting is a parlor game compared to bull baiting, 
but I am as usual getting away from what I want to say regarding 
sports. In England cricket is the national game while in the United 
States baseball is proclaimed to be the only game worth playing or 
seeing, and I am of that opinion, too, but what do our opinions amount 
to ? Tell an Englishman that cricket is slow, that it is lacking in action 
and requires little or no skill to play it and you will get a dose of 
sarcasm that will last you for a lifetime. Likewise tell an American 
that baseball is no good, and it is fight or take it back at once. So you 
see it is as I say, sport is greatly a matter of birth, every country 
having its own national sport which must be thoroughly understood to 
be enjoyed. The game itself matters little, it's the players and the 
playing of it that counts. Boxing, for instance, the game itself is of 
little moment, but let two skilled boxers come together and then you 
will realize what is in the game and what I am driving at. Speaking 
of boxing my headquarters in Los Angeles were at Jim Jefifries and 


who in America of forty years of age or more does not remember 
him? He certainly was some boy with the gloves and his place in 
the sporting history of our land will always be high. He was by no 
means a sensational or spectacular fighter, but when he started in 
it was time for the fellow in front of him to get out, and he usually did. 

Los Angeles is a wonderful place and destined to become much 
greater as it becomes better known. My old friend, ex-Captain James 
H. Kelley and family are living there. Many a person with no in- 
tentions whatsoever of doing so at the starting of their journey has 
deliberately terminated it at Los Angeles, and have refused to return 
to their native place, making it their permanent home. I can under- 
stand this feeling for I too was under its influence and I unhesitatingly 
christened it, "The magnetic city of the West." Another thing about 
this beautiful city, which my readers may be unaware of, is that it 
is the largest city in the world when it comes to square miles. New 
York and London are not in it with Los Angeles. 

While in Los Angeles I visited beautiful Pasadena and spent a few 
happy hours in the famous "Bausch Gardens" among the flowers 
growing there from every known land. The trees were drooping with 
the finest of oranges, and a sign that was suspended from these trees 
read, "keep off the grass." It was a plain case of "You may look but 
you must not touch." My mouth was watering and I could not get 
anything to moisten my poor throat, being some distance from the 
town. I was tempted to throw my paper up at the oranges hanging 
from the trees and knock a few ofT, and then make my getaway as 
quickly as possible. 

I also rode out to the old Mission District to witness the famous 
mission play, and after the performance I had a talk with Mr. Mc- 
Groorty, the man who staged it. He asked me not to leave, but to wait 
until the evening performance. I consented and we took supper 
together. Afterwards he informed me that in the performance that 
evening there was to be an historical wedding, the grandson of one 
and the granddaughter of another of the early settlers, were to be 
united in wedlock. 

Mr. McGroorty explained to me that their grandsires were of the 
party who had fought off the Indians that had raided the mission 
killing Father John, and after ransacking the place began to make 
merry. And while they were celebrating their victory, this young man's 
father mounted a horse and rode post haste to the old town of San 
Diego to report the matter to Father Junepera Serra at the old Mission, 
and he with all the men of the place hastened back to the bloody scene 
where they fought and succeeded in kiUing many of the Indians an4 


driving those that were left from the place. This is said to be th^ 
last raid ever attempted by the roving Indian bands. 

Just before leaving Parkville, Brooklyn, for my trip to the coast, 
I was told that a family by the name of Mitchell lived on the avenue, 
and that their youngest son had gone to California when a small boy 
in order to save his life and that they had not heard from him in 
many months, so that the poor mother was greatly worried. I called 
on them saying that I was going to California, and if they wished I 
would call and see their son wherever he might be ; the poor old 
parents weer delighted and greatly to my surprise told me that their 
James was a Catholic priest, so taking his last-known address I bade 
them goodby. When I arrived in Los Angeles I learned that San 
Jacinto, the place that I was to visit to meet Father Mitchell, was 
about seven hundred miles away, so before leaving for the San Diego 
Exposition I wrote Father James F. Mitchell that I was afraid that 
the distance was too much for me to travel, inasmuch as that I was 
in a hurry to get to Vallejo in Alameda County over in Oakland about 
one thousand miles away, which was to be my stopping place for at 
least a year. 

Father Mitchell then wrote me, "Please do not leave Los Angeles 
without calling upon me. We in California do not call this a long 
distance, it is only you tenderfeet from the East, so you must come 
to San Jacinto, I will be looking for you." There was nothing else 
for me to do but write Father Mitchell to say that I was about to 
leave San Diego for Los Angeles, and would leave for San Jacinto 
on a train of the Sante Fe railroad at two p. m. 

I spent an enjoyable week in San Diego, visiting all the many 
points of interest, such as Coronada Island, Tent City and its great 
seal colony, Tia Juana, Mexico, an old town where General Free- 
mantle raised the first American flag in California, St. Gabriel's Mis- 
sion, the first Mission district of the twenty-one Missions founded by 
Father Junepera Serra, with a memorial in the shape of a brick cross 
erected to his memory by the men of the old town, eleven of whom 
were protestants and the other a Hebrew. In the erecting of this cross 
it was agreed that each one would carry his own bricks and mortar, 
and lay the bricks in position himself, and this plan was carried out 
to the letter. And in order that a Roman Catholic would be given 
credit for having taken some part in the erection of this interesting 
monument, a Mrs. Murtha, a resident of San Diego, ordered and paid 
for an iron fence to be built around the monument ; the railing built is 
twelve feet high. I also visited Ramona's garden, Ramona's well, 
and other interesting features connected with Ramona and her marriage 
romance, and we are told that such a matter did in reality take place. 
Leaving San Diego on a train of the Southern Pacific Railroad at 


eight A. M. I arrived in Los Angeles at noon, and having two hours 
to wait for my train for San Jacinto, I called at the Jeffries cafe and 
received my mail that had been accumulating while I was out of town. 
After taking lunch I hurried to board my train, arriving at the depot 
as the train was pulling out. We passed through much beautiful 
country, orange and lemon orchards and massive walnut trees which 
were backed up by the high rugged mountains, producing a picture 
long to be remembered. 

Arriving at the little one-horse railroad station at the end of a 
branch line stopping in the heart of the Valley of San Jacinto at seven 
p. M., I saw a number of men on the platform, if such it could be 
called. I then jumped off the train and walking up to two men whom 
I saw looking at me, I said, "I am here to meet Father Mitchell," and 
with that one of the two men stepped forward and said, "I am the 
man you are looking for, Mr. Hickey, and I am more than pleased 
to meet you. My friend and myself have been waiting for two long 
hours to greet you, I was sure that you would come ; how are you." 

I was very much surprised when I met Father Mitchell ; he had 
on an old soft hat and a blue shirt, and the other men standing around 
were his friends. They had just come from the baseball field after 
playing a game, to greet me. I was introduced to all, and found them 
to be fine fellows, and while they were not all of the same faith, they 
respected Father Mitchell and joined him in giving me a splendid 
reception, making my stay in San Jacinto a memorable one. I quickly 
saw that the men of the town, regardless of creed, thought the world 
of Father Mitchell, going to him with all of their troubles, and he would 
quickly hasten to help them, hence their love and respect for this good 

Besides being the pastor of St. Anthony's Church in San Jacinto, 
Father Mitchell's parish extended fully three hundred miles, having 
under his charge two Indian reservations that he visited alternately 
every few weeks, and to do this, having no other means of travel, he 
would borrow a horse and ride over the mountain, laying down to sleep 
at night with his rifle handy as a protection against wild animals. 
They were plentiful, for while I was stopping there two mountain 
lions put in an appearance, and we had to get away lively. In fact 
one lion that we saw while passing a wheat field on our way to River- 
side, we were told afterwards had killed one of a fine team of horses 
that were driving past, and might have killed the driver and other 
horse only that he was shot by two hunters who had followed liim 
down from the mountains. I was told that the government pays a 
bounty of twenty-five dollars for the skin of a mountain lion, and 
naturally every one is very anxious to kill them. 


Father Mitchell treated me royally; his health had been restored 
and in gratitude he was doing the grandest work that a man can 
devote himself to. But after all. Father Mitchell's life was not by 
any means a bed of roses. What little cash he came in contact with 
went for snufif and tobacco for the old men and women of the reser- 
vation that he would be then visiting. He was his own cook and in 
fact his own housekeeper and man of general work; he was office boy 
and president but withal he was happy. In order to be accepted by 
the Indians he had submitted to the transference of the blood from 
one of the young men of the reservation into his own veins, thus 
making him one of their own blood, a member of the tribe. 

We sat talking about his parents and the old town of Brooklyn 
until well after midnight, and now and then I could see a longing look 
come into his eyes. If he had had the money he would have taken a 
trip back East long before, but this was not to be, for the present at 
any rate. He had a pretty little frame church with but fifteen parish- 
ioners, and he slept, ate, and drank in a small room at the rear of the 
building. After talking so late we both were tired, so concluded to 
retire, but where was I going to sleep? That's what bothered me 
then more than anything else, although I was so tired I could lay down 
and sleep on a third rail. 

There was a young man in the town, and although he was not a 
Catholic he thought a great deal of Father Mitchell and was with him 
at all times in his travels through the valley. He was with us all 
through our long conversation, and at last when human nature was 
getting the better of us Father Mitchell asked the young man to 
drive us over to the hotel so that the visitor, Mr. Hickey, could have a 
much needed rest. Arriving at the hotel, a very fine place. Father 
Mitchell introduced me to the owner and his wife and several men 
of the town. I went to book up and before I was through Father 
Mitchell said, "Now, Mr, Hickey, you go to bed and have a good 
sleep, and I will call over for you at six o'clock." 

Well, well, here it was nearly three o'clock, and I must be up 
again at six, this was a fearful setback to me, for if there is anything 
else in this world that I like it's sleep and rest. I had lost so much 
while connected with the police force of New York, that I was very 
anxious to get all that I could in retirement. Sure enough, I was 
awakened and arose more dead than alive. I washed and went down- 
stairs to the dining-room for breakfast, when lo and behold, just as 
the clock was striking six, in walks Father Mitchell. Walking up to 
my table he said, "Good morning, Mr. Hickey, I hope that you slept 
well." "Oh, yes. Father," said I, "I slept very well indeed," jumping 
up and grasping his hand, saying, "But you know, Father, that back 


in New York if the folks could not do any more for a fellow, they 
would certainly permit him to sleep more than three hours. They are 
not so mean about their sleep as are you folks here in sunny Cali- 
fornia." This caused a laugh. 

He answered, "I am very sorry, Mr. Hickey, but it could not be 
helped. However we will retire early tonight, and you will sleep 
much better after riding over the mountains." He explained to 
me the reason for this early start that there were several Catholic 
Spanish families living so far away over the mountains that it was 
impossible for them to atend Holy Mass, so that arrangements were 
made for me to see them between the times that I visited each reserva- 
tion. This call upon the Rawson family in Crown Valley was already 
arranged, thinking that it would be an experience for his guest from 
New York, giving him something to talk about when he would arrive 
home, and with that thought in mind he had called up Mrs. Rawson 
and told her that we would be at her farmhouse at eight o'clock next 
morning, so jump in and we will just about get there in time," 

I jumped in all right, but had I known what was to happen while 
riding over the mountains with these two what I call wild men, perhaps 
I would not have jumped into the old machine so hurriedly. We 
climbed the mountains at such a fast clip that I was forced to feel 
that a conspiracy existed in the minds of my two companions to keep 
old man Hickey from ever returning to good old New York again. 
Just imagine tearing over the mountains at a break-neck speed, often 
faster than many of the so-called racing machines that one often sees 
on the New York speedway. The more I protested the faster they 
went. Of course there was an excuse for this haste while going to 
the Rawson farm, but no excuse at all on the return journey. But it 
made no difference, away she went just the same, and for fear that 
the young fellow was not traveling fast enough my good friend Father 
Mitchell relieved him on the way home. Of course while going to 
the Rawson farm Father Mitchell laid back and never uttered a word, 
he having to celebrate the mass, but coming home it was not so. He 
did nothing else but kid the poor eastern tenderfoot, and threw open 
the valves and let her go. Glory be, my heart was in my mouth the 
whole journey. 

Yes, I certainly did get some experience all right, one that I shall 
never forget the longest day I live. The mountains of San Jacinto 
will be ever in my dreams. It appeared to be great fun for my 
companions, and I often think that the one driving the old machine 
took considerable trouble to scare me and make me jump for every 
time we would strike a rut. Up to the roof went I, my straw hat was 


a sight, and with my head aching, I was a fit subject for bed. Oh, 
but it was great fun for them. 

Father Mitchell tried more than once to get me to promise to 
return and stay with him and be his constant companion, helping him 
in his work and in fact to spend the rest of my life with him, and I 
must confess that I was seriously thinking of doing so, especially 
when he had promised me that he would be more careful riding over 
the mountains in the future. But when I realized that affairs in 
New York called for my presence I saw the futility of the idea. Then 
again I had spent some forty years building up friendships and it 
would be unwise of me to leave them. 

After three days of this strenuous life I made preparations to 
return to Los Angeles, and let me tell you that I had acquired a great 
deal of useful information during those three days. The life was 
new to me and the experience was beyond anything I have ever read 
on the subject. Of course I was not allowed to sleep out in the open 
but I wanted to and had it been any other but a Rev. Father whose 
guest I was at the time, or if it had been at all necessary I would 
have done so, the nights were so beautiful and warm. 

The one great need of those missionaries is the automobile, for 
with it they can save both time and distance. A Ford automobile can 
travel thirty or forty times faster than a horse can and does not re- 
quire the attention and care than an animal demands. The life is a 
hard one with never a chance for what I consider a much desired and 
decent rest. No hours are free for the missionary; he is constantly 
going and is always at the beck and call of every one and for all 
purposes, yet after a little time they get used to it and become so 
accustomed to it that they do not want to be taken from it. They grow 
to think nothing of interruptions and disappointments; they accept 
what they get and are thankful for it. 

Father Mitchell learned to love the poor Indians, and they too 
loved their Father James, and looked upon every visit he made them 
as someone sent from Heaven to love and cherish them and to attend 
to their spiritual wants. He told me that he regretted his inabihty to 
devote more time to the Indians ; that owing to the fact that it took 
him a full month to make a round trip, he could not give more time 
to them than he was then giving. "When I first came here," he 
said, 'T thought I would try the company idea with these people 
and accordingly I divided each section into companies, appointing a 
captain and giving him special instructions regarding his work and 
what to do in all cases of emergencies and it has worked out beauti- 
fully. It is, you know, only a continuation of their tribal methods 
of government. Of course it is on a small scale, but it being some- 


thing which they understand perfectly makes it an ideal way for the 

"Many of the little annoying details of disagreement never come 
to me," he continued, "and these are always the most dangerous for 
the spiritual adviser, for he can never see where they are going to 
end, and besides his qualifications for a proper adjustment of the 
quarrels are limited. In a great many ways he is ignorant not only 
of their customs but of their mental attitude. Often what he con- 
siders trivial and of little account they consider serious, and therein 
lies the danger of a decision on his part. King Solomon knew his 
people and understood their ways of thinking, but the missionary is 
at sea for many years and even on his deathbed he will tell you that 
there is still a great deal for him to learn." 

I had an opportunity to not only inspect but to review several of 
Father Mitchell's companies and while they were not up to the standard 
of the "Finest" I can say in all truth and fairness that they under- 
stood what they were doing and performed in a most creditable man- 
ner, especially the young people, that is the boys and girls. 

I shall never forget the parting words of good natured Jim Jeffries, 
our former heavyweight champion, when about to say goodby on my 
way to San Francisco. He grasped my hand and said, "Mr. Hickey, 
you are about to start back to your home in New York, and I will 
ask you to do me one favor, that is that you will give my kindest 
regards to all of my New York friends, and they are many. Tell 
them how much I think of them and the many kind favors they did 
for me while visiting your great city, and the many times that they 
went out of their way to make my visit a happy one. Say to them 
that I would dearly like to visit them again, so that I can thank them 
personally for the many good things that they did for me, and if the 
opportunity ever presents itself, I surely will call upon them again, 
in the near future I hope. I am doing a very fine business here 
just now, and of course I must stay here to look after it, but I hope 
to get a vacation next year, and then I will make this long-desired trip 
to your wonderful city. And let me say to you, that outside of my 
home city of Los Angeles there is not another city that I have visited 
that makes me feel so much at home as in your great city of New 

Yes, I am a witness to the fact that he was then doing a great 
business. The great saloon Avas the meeting place of all sporting men 
and also the farmers from all the outlying districts would stop off 
at Jeffries Cafe to wet their whistles, for they all swore by big Jim. 
I can assure you, my friends, that the Jeffries Cafe was a good enough 
meeting place for most anybody, moreover if you were a New Yorker. 

Both Jim and his brother Jack were ever ready to serve any one 


who thought well enough of them to stop off there, and it was known 
both far and near, hence the many different faces seen in and out 
of that drinking palace every day, so that the Jeffries Cafe on South 
Spring Street, Los Angeles, was in great demand. 

The boys accompanied me to the railroad station and stopped 
with me until the train pulled out for San Francisco, waving their 
handkerchiefs and wishing me a pleasant trip through the Rockies, 
and the last words that I heard was, "Give my regards to old New 
York." The party consisted of Jim and Jack Jeffries, Mr. McKmsie, 
Jim's partner, and Jimmy Kelly, at one time a famous American 


Officer 787 on Vacation and Visiting the Police Forces of the 
Different States En Route 

One of the sights of California which was a revelation to me, was 
the vineyards. I suppose now that it is more or less out of the fashion 
to discuss such matters in polite society, but notwithstanding the 
eighteenth amendment I still hark back to my days on the Pacific coast 
and revel, as it were, in the memory of those great big grape gardens. I 
will admit that prior to my visit to California my taste for wine was 
somewhat plebian. I knew a little about sherry and port wines, but 
as to what they call dry wines I knew absolutely nothing except that 
on one occasion I had drunk some claret and the experience was just 
the reverse of what I considered nice. 

This idea of calling a wine dry is away beyond my comprehension. 
I have repeatedly dipped my fingers into the wine and never yet have I 
found it anything but wet and just as wet as whiskey. I am told they 
use the term to distinguish it from the sweet wines, and if this is 
true all I can say is that they must have been short on dictionaries 
when they did it. 

But I am digressing again. California's vineyards were rapidly 
coming to the front, not only in America but in Europe, and all due to 
downright hard work. Grape growing is by no means an easy way 
to make money, yet there are men at all times willing to risk not only 
their capital but their labor and time in this important branch of 
horticulture, knowing or believing that they would be amply rewarded 
in the years to come. There were thousands of mistakes made and 
fortune after fortune sunk in the venture, but these were all righted 
eventually and things were sailing along pleasantly and profitably. At 
one time the production had become so great and the market so limited 
that wine was actually cheaper than water. A ship coming in for 
water could get the wine at a lower figure than it had to pay for the 
water. This was a serious mistake on the part of the growers and was 
the means of plowing up many hundreds of acres of vines. As with 
almost everything in California wine growing was ultimately con- 
nected with the church. 

The pioneer priests brought with them cuttings of vines which 



they planted and later on made the wine they needed. Some of these 
vines, I am told, are still in existence and contributing their fruit from 
season to season. I became quite fond of Mission wine, for such it is 
called, and soon could have lost my taste for the "ardent" had I re- 
mained in California much longer. 

The eighteenth amendment, I am told, has had a wonderful effect 
upon grape growing and has given it an impetus far beyond the dreams 
of the most sanguine. Vineyards have more than tripled in value and 
the government loses a revenue which it should have. Of all the 
methods of taxation there is none that equals the excise and none so 
easily collected. Distilled liquors paid a direct tax of more than ten 
times the cost of production and beer equally so, yet there were no 
complaints, the people paid it cheerfully and willingly, recognizing the 
fact of government need. But why prolong the agony, fanaticism is 
for the time being victorious, and our taxes are rising every year. 

The pleasure of travel, according to what I have experienced, is to 
be found not so much, as one would naturally suppose, in the meeting 
of different people and seeing other places, but in the way this is 
accomplished. Now my pleasure would soon come to an end if I was 
compelled to ride in any other car than the smoker of a train. In this 
car I am free, I am under no restraint, and what few rules there are I 
agree with them. I am not what you would call an inveterate smoker; 
of course I enjoy my pipe and an occasional cigar, but I have found 
that men of a social nature frequent this particular car. Perhaps, this 
is owing to the fact that each and every man is by himself and is not 
acting in the capacity of an escort or protector to some one to whom 
he is more or less bound. In the smoker I have found conventionali- 
ties are more often than otherwise dispensed with and it is an easy 
matter indeed to start a conversation. 

The knights of the road, as our commercial travelers are often 
called, are as a rule of good education, bright and up to date in all 
the news. Generally they like to talk, in fact I sometimes think, too 
much, but then when it is considered that it is through and by talking 
that they derive their business there is a valid reason for it. I would 
much rather take the judgment of any of these commercial travelers 
regarding places and localities and general directions than the best 
guide published. They are quick to observe and narratives are to the 
point. What they miss in a town or city is seldom worth looking for. 

Arriving in San Francisco at a very early hour in the morning I 
soon found a hotel, turning in for a good sleep that I surely was in 
need of. I arose at one p.m. and went out to meet my friends, arriving 
at police headquarters in the Hall of Justice on Kearney Street. I sent 
in my card to Chief of Police White, and after a long conversation on 


police affairs, both of New York and San Francisco, I was taken 
through the great building. Next morning I visited the detectives' 
line up, meeting all the men of the detective bureau, among whom were 
Detective Sergeant Thomas Conlon, Captain Jack O'Meara, his side 
partner, who took entire charge of me while in San Francisco. I met 
and was highly entertained by the whole Conlon family and there are 
seven of them, all very prominent in 'Frisco, one a desk sergeant in the 
police department, another a Deputy United States Marshal, another the 
proprietor of a large business house, and so on and so forth. 

I shall never forget the kindness to me of the Conlon family, for 
I was but a stranger among them, but the fact of my just returning 
from old Ireland had a great effect on the Conlon family, who by the 
way had never seen Ireland or the sky over it, but they were more 
Irish than the folks that I met in Ireland, for the senior member of 
the Conlon family had maintained an Irish Man-O'-War, the Erin's 
Hope in San Francisco Bay for many years. 

The good old gentlemen, like many others of our race, hoped to God 
to have the opportunity of going over to fight for Ireland's freedom 
some day, but death removed him and he did not have the good 
fortune to live to see old Ireland free as she is today. We still 
correspond and Larry Conlon, the United States marshal, is constantly 
asking me to return to the land of sunshine and showers, which I hope 
to same fine day, God willing. 

Another wonderful family that I met was the Walsh family. There 
were, I think, seven of this great family also. Richard Walsh is 
United States Senator of California, Jack Walsh is known the world 
over as the famous honest ring figbt referee, known and respected by 
all. Mr. John C. Walsh was the owner of a very fine Cafe, resorted 
to by the best business and sporting men of California, located at 
Number 2 Market Street, a favorite stopping-off place for the good 
citizens of Alameda County, for Jack Walsh's Cafe is right outside 
the Market Street Ferry, a busy spot. 

Jack Walsh was known far and near and had just returned from 
Havana where he had gone to referee the world's championship fight 
between Jess Willard and Jack Johnson. I was given a letter of 
introduction to Mr. Walsh by one of his old friends, a man whom he 
backed at one time to det^irone Johnny Hergot, alias Young Mitchell, 
I speak of Australian Paddy Gorman, one of the best middleweights 
of his or any other day, twenty-five years ago. Jack Walsh was very 
glad to hear of Paddy Gorman, who was then holding a prominent 
position in the New York City government, but death stepped in and 
Paddy Gorman drew his last cheque in 1920, peace be to him. 

Jack Walsh's place was the mecca of every sporting and political 


pilgrim from the East, and remember that the East does not begin in 
New York, it crosses the Atlantic Ocean, passes through England, 
jumps the channel, then by a devious route enters AustraHa. Some- 
where along this line the East becomes West, but just where I am not 
qualified to say. 

San Francisco, California, is most assuredly a hustling city for 
what it lacks in size it makes up in hospitality. Of course I was visiting 
it under the most favorable circumstances and every one was on his 
good behavior. The Exposition was in full blast and the strangers 
within the gates of the city could be counted by the thousands. The 
orient and the Occident were here in full regalia and on an equal foot- 
ing; for the time being everybody was American and they carried 
themselves as such. There was no segregation of races and countries. 
San Francisco was truly a city of all nations and it speaks well for 
its people and for its government that during the whole term of the 
Exposition, and it was opened by the late ex-President Woodrow Wil- 
son, February 15, 1915, no row or even a discord of any importance 
occurred. Out of the two months spent in San Francisco I visited 
the Exposition either daily or nightly nineteen times, appearing on the 
job on every occasion of note, namely the New York State day, the 
New York City day, Zone day, and so on and so forth. I had a 
wonderful time. 

But let me tell you, my friends, you may travel out that way 
sometime, be careful how you talk about San Francisco or you will 
hurt the feelings of the men and women of that wonder city. Of 
course it made no difference to me ; I praised New York in the very 
highest way, for it was my duty to love her. I recall once making a 
bad break, so to say, for while Jalking to the Walsh brothers who, 
by the way, came from Rochester, New York, to settle in San Fran- 
cisco, and one day while speaking about it I happened to say that 
San Francisco was a grand monument to the East. No, I was not 
killed or seriously injured, but the howl that went up could be plainly 
heard three miles away. What saved me was that they quickly under- 
stood the meaning of my remark, but I would not venture another 
saying of like nature for a small farm. 

But after all any man that would dare to call the late Teddy Roose- 
velt in his prime a son of a b — , and get away with it, can do most 
anything, I am told that if you live six months or more in San 
Francisco you contract the fever, and after having had this fever enter 
your system there is nothing on earth that can take it away. I guess 
it is the truth sure enough, for what I saw and heard during my so- 
journ there confirms it in every particular. I would not attempt to 
criticize San Francisco if I could, for let me say right here that I 


never enjoyed such hospitality as I did there, for they are whole- 
hearted people and will put themselves to a great deal of trouble to 
make things pleasant for you. 

I had a bed and room in a hotel, but the use I made of them was 
little indeed. My teaching had been that we should labor eight hours, 
play eight hours, and sleep eight hours, this accounts for the whole 
twenty-four hours, but I know that many of my days in San Francisco 
were thirty hours and on several occasions forty-eight hours long. I 
was also to call upon a family of old friends that came from the same 
part of the old country as I, in fact I was to make their home mine 
while visiting the coast. Yes, my mail was directed there, I not 
knowing that it was thirty miles from San Francisco. One week was 
enough for me to spend in Vallejo, not far from the Mare Island navy 
yard. The bright lights of San Francisco, like the good old bright 
lights of little old New York, for me, and my old friends Joe Samson, 
his wife and family, saw but little of me while there. 

I being a Past Regent of the Royal Arcanum, and presenting my 
credentials at several Councils, also kept me busy, for they too gave 
me a great reception, a visiting brother from the East ! Well, well. 
I was banqueted on several occasions both in San Francisco and 
Alameda County and elsewhere. 

Frequently when whiling away an hour or two in the different 
libraries of San Francisco, I would turn to the histories of California, 
looking up the names of the different places, seeking their origin and 
cause. San Francisco, I found, was first called Yerbo Buena — meaning 
"good luck herb." What specie of plant this name designated I have 
never been able to determine with any degree of accuracy. The cause for 
the change of name is still a matter of doubt and speculation. Some 
claim that it came about through the desire to conform to the name of 
the church and the presidio ; others assert that it was due to the action 
of General Vallejo, who named what is now Benecia, Francisco, in 
honor of his wife Francisca Benecia, and when the people of Yerbo 
Buena heard of it they at once realized the confusion that would arise 
from the similarity of names for the bay and other contiguous territory. 
So in a spirit of retaliation they changed the name of the town from 
Yerbo Buena to San Francisco. The story goes that the General 
became so enraged that he at once called his community Benecia and 
thus it is known today. 

Palo Alto is a descriptive name and when translated into English 
means high tree — the tree is still standing — a giant redwood and cannot 
be easily mistaken for it is quite near the railroad station and close to 
the bridge. Palo Alto is by no means a modern name for it was 
bestowed upon the town in the year 1776 by the Anza expedition. 


Pizmo is an Indian word with more than the usual appeal. The 
disciples of Izaak Walton should add it to their vocabulary for it 
means "a place to fish." 

Oak trees are responsible for the name of Pass Robles. They were 
so numerous and luxuriant that Padre Crespi thought it proper to 
be ^tow the name upon the Pass for that reason. Gavista has a very 
pleasant sound but its translation robs it of all its pleasantness. It 
means Sea Gull and came about through a soldier shooting one of 
these birds at this place. San Jose, named after St. Joseph, has the 
honor of being the site for the first colony of white settlers in Cali- 
fornia. Biblical names abound in this state owing to the fact that the 
early explorations were conducted or directed by monks and priests 
and others closely related or connected with the church. Madrone is 
so called after the evergreen tree that is indigenous to the place and 
also to the greater part of the state. It is a beautiful tree and I saw 
numbers of them that were nearly a hundred feet high. 

Tom Conlon and his brothers, were the means of my missing the 
morning train out of San Francisco and having to wait over until 
night when I left there on my return to the East. For more than a 
month one of the chief topics of conversation was the coming ox 
roast in commemoration of Jim Conlon's birthday. From what I 
could gather an ox roast is something worth while seeing. In a way 
it resembles our clam bakes but is on a much larger scale, calling for 
at least five hundred people and as many more if you can get them. I 
am not at all acquainted with the details of it but from what I saw I 
should say that the ox was of only secondary consideration. In fact, 
he only lends his name, for I am ready to testify that there were 
more than two carloads of provisions sent out to the place and there 
wasn't one ox to be seen anywhere. Though I will admit that I saw 
several cases marked ox tongue and also some branded with oxtail, 
perhaps the poor ox was sent out in sections. I had made up my 
mind to start for home as I had received several letters that had made 
me feel decidedly homesick. Besides as I have said elsewhere it's a 
good time to leave when you are at the height of your popularity. The 
boys, however, did not take kindly to my going away and they set 
about preventing it. Some one of them, I'll never know who, managed 
to set my watch back, and not satisfied with this trick another one 
of them grabbed my suitcase and started on a clear run with it for the 
boat. But there was where he overlooked the fact that J. J. Hickey 
had several medals for his sprinting ability and handicapped as he 
was with the grip it was an easy thing indeed for me to overtake him 
and get it back. 

Just at that time the picnicers came marching down the street^ 

A school that has become famous because of its success in training 
policemen and firemen for entrance and promotion examinations. 
Phone Stuyvesant 6310 115 East ISth Street, New York City. 


over five hundred strong, and I began to feel sorry for the ox. I 
could see by their faces what they would do to the poor beast if they 
ever got their hands on him. Looking at my watch I saw that my 
time was up, so grabbing my cases I said goodby and hurried to the 
depot. I showed my ticket to the man at the gate and was about to 
enter when he informed me that I was more than an hour late. I 
took out my watch and showed him that I still had ten minutes. He 
looked then pointed to the big clock. Well it took me fully five 
minutes to satisfy myself that I was wrong. I had a wait of more 
than ten hours on my hands, so checking my cases I made my way 
over to the Exposition and when the time came along for the train to 
leave I was aboard. 

In almost every way I was treated as if I were an old timer in San 
Francisco. Tom Conlon went so far as to get me a position in the 
offices of one of the main steamship companies. In fact I had been 
accepted, but say what you will to me, there is no place in this round 
earth of ours that equals New York. I of course am only an adopted 
son, but my adoption has been complete and I am thoroughly inoculated 
with the New York germ. 

Greatly to my surprise I found that the police of San Francisco 
were the best paid police in the world. Chief White, to whom I am 
greatly indebted for many a good time in his city, told me that it was 
owing to the business men of the town that such was the case. They 
recognized the fact that policing was a hard job and any man who 
proved himself able to perform it should be fairly well paid. Another 
feature of the department which appealed to me was that the older 
men were kept on day duty, the night work being left for the younger 
or newer men. This is as it should be, for after a man has been on 
the force twenty or more years he has naturally lost a goodly part of 
his initial vigor, and while he would still be able to put up a stiff fight, 
if necessity should demand it, it is nevertheless reasonable to suppose 
that his younger brother, who is right in his prime, could be able to do 
much better. It is always the unexpected that the police must be 
ready for, and what they go in search of, but like the tramp seeking 
work, praying he will never find it. 

Of course in a way they looked upon me as a kind of authority in 
matters appertaining to Ireland. I had only recently returned from 
there ; in fact I was the only man among these people in San Francisco 
who had been in Ireland for several years, but every mother's sons of 
them were Sinn Feiners, even to the priests, and you can readily 
understand what was in store for me whenever the subject of Ireland 
came up. I was one against many and every one of them was just as 
hot in their belief as I was in mine, but all of our arguments came 


to the same ending, "Hickey, we like you, and we'll let you pay for the 
drinks." "I will," I said, "when the Sinn Feiners set Ireland free." 

Some, in fact quite a number of my friends in San Francisco did 
not know why my attitude on the Irish question was so pronounced. 
Unlike the great majority of these Irishmen I was where I could get 
both sides of the question and was always close to the field of action. 
As a young man in London I was brought in direct contact with the 
adherents of every political party and it did not take me long to dis- 
cern the difference between worth and sham. Almost one of the last 
things I did in London was to arrange a friendly meeting among the 
Irish men and women of London to present John Gunner Flood with 
a suitable testimonial in the shape of a purse. 

Gunner Flood had just come out of prison, he had been sentenced 
to twenty years penal servitude with lashes in and out for his love of 
the Irish cause. His term had expired and he was then at liberty, but 
naturally without friends, so I with several others called the meeting 
and raised for him some forty pounds. We gave him the money and 
the next thing we heard of him, but not from him, he was in America. 
He had slipped away without having the decency to even say "goodby." 
We heard that he was in constant communication with General P. A. 
Collins, at that time mayor of Boston, Mass., and it was the General 
who had furnished him with the passage to America. 

Just at this time, I, being a strong healthy young fellow not yet 
twenty-one, made up my mind to try my fortune in New York and over 
the sea I went. I had been in the city but thirteen days when I read 
in the Dcdly News that the Irish men and women of New York were 
to give John Gunner Flood a testimonial and purse that evening in 
Military Hall, 193 Bowery. Against all advice I attended the meeting, 
and in order to get to the meeting room one had to climb the stairs 
which were in full view of the barroom on the street floor, so up the 
stairs I went. To my surprise I saw but a very small number of people 
present, but John Gunner Flood was there so I knew that I was in the 
right place. 

Not caring for the looks of the men present, I, being dressed in 
my English clothes, thought it best to wait on the sidewalk for my 
good old friend John Flood. And with that thought in mind, I turned 
and walked down the stairs and waited but a few minutes when I saw 
Flood coming down. I ran towards him and said, "Hello, John." 
No answer. "Why," said I, "Don't you know me, John?" 

"Yes," he said, "I know you, and if you come out here to follow 
my movements I will blow your dam brains out," drawing a revolver 
from his coat pocket and pointing same at my forehead, and to this 
day I imagine I can feel the cold steel at my forehead. Fortunately 


enough for me Thomas Francis Burke the one-armed Fenian, Patrick 
Mellody and Captain O'Meara Condon, just released from an English 
jail, rushed out of the barroom and took the revolver away from 
Flood, and drove him upstairs, begging me to go home and forget it. 
Imagine my feelings, several miles away from my aunts with whom 
I was stopping and on the wild, wild Bowery, having to ask my way 
home, alone and unarmed. Heavenly Father, what a predicament to 
be placed in. 

New York was in an uproar at the time, for it was just after the 
killing of Cavendish and Burke, and meetings of protest of those Irish- 
men who gloried in the fact were held, and it was at a meeting called 
at Number 13 Chambers Street, right about under where the marriage 
bureau in the municipal building is today, that O'Donovan Rossa and 
his party met to denounce those who were denouncing the men that 
had committed the murders. And down I went boldly enough and 
made myself known to Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, and he was furious 
and swore to drive Flood out of New York. He did, but got shot 
himself shortly after by Phelan, an English spy. I certainly was 
able to say which party was right, for my experience both in Ireland, 
England, and America impressed itself plainly on my mind. 

I shall never forget the words of good natured O'Donovan Rossa 
that night he said my poor boy, no son of Tade Hickey, my boyhood 
chum will ever be molested while I live, and in after years when I 
became a policeman my post was visited nightly by Jeremiah O'Dono- 
van Rossa, who would say, Johnny, my boy, be careful and may God 
protect you among the devils around here, good night my son. 

I like to travel and enjoy it to the last drop and last minute, but 
the source of all my journeys is the return to New York. I look 
forward to it, I dream of it, and when at last I place my feet upon 
its pavements, pavements I have patrolled thousands of times, a 
feeling of satisfaction arises in me and I am contented, and why 
shouldn't I be? I worked hard of course but I was appreciated not 
only in words but in deeds and what more could I ask or expect. 

San Francisco, like Los Angeles, has many places of more than 
ordinary interest within a day's ride. The tourist can keep busy for 
weeks going here and there seeing new sights and wonders which are 
to be found only in this great state of California. Think of those 
wonderful redwood trees, two of them placed one on top of the other 
would reach some hundred feet higher than the tower of the Wool- 
worth building, and we think that this tower is quite high up in the 
air. They are not only the largest trees but the oldest as well. I 
made it a point to look up these trees, for I was at the Exposition on 
Big Tree day. California had awakened to the fact that man's cupidity 


is devoid of sentiment and nothing whatever is allowed to stand in the 
way of the dollar. What matters it, if there are some who prefer 
beauty to money ? In the last analysis they must come to the dollar, so 
why defer it. It is thus they argue and on the face of it it looks 
well, it seems plausible, but do we have to depend on the dollar? 
Reverse the proposition and you will quickly see that the dollar is 
the dependent one, that it must look to something else for it to live 
upon, but why argue; the fact still remains that if California had not 
awakened to the fact her forests of these wonderful trees would soon 
be a matter of history. There are two types of these trees in California, 
the sempervines on the coast and the gigantic of the mountains and 
they are well worth traveling many miles to see. Today these trees 
are guarded and protected, and the future generations will have the 
pleasure and satisfaction of seeing for themselves the results. 

A lonesome feeling often came over me but there was not a soul 
I knew anywhere near. But why dwell upon such things, I had the 
price in my pocket and it was not necessary to look long before I had 
two brimming mugs of what is today denied to all Americans, and 
let me say right here while on this subject of drinking that prohibition 
owes its existence to its downright absurdity. You may feel inclined 
to take exception with me but the more you study the question and 
the closer you analyze it the more my assertion will appeal to you. 

It was its absurdity that made its passage possible ; our thinking 
people never took it seriously. They looked upon it as the outpouring 
of fanaticism and overlooked the fact that honesty is a factor unknown 
to a fanatic. They little thought that it only required five thousand or 
less votes from certain bodies of men to have this law put into our 
constitution. Look up the membership of the different state legisla- 
tions and you will see that I am right and what have the results been? 
Can you look for good from evil? Can you expect that a law born 
as this law was, fathered by deceit and mothered by tricksters, to have 
any following but of its own kind? I challenge any one to show me an 
honest prohibitionist. It cannot be done ; he or she may be honest in 
the way of money and goods, but honesty does not cease there. There 
are rights that God has given to every man, woman, and child, and 
these have been stolen away from them. A sumptuary law is beyond 
the jurisdiction of every legislation and the sooner the powers that be 
realize it and devote their efforts towards its repeal the better it will 
be for America. Lav/s are formulated to protect the people in their 
rights and a sumptuary law, no matter how worded and framed, will 
never protect even the meanest citizen. 

During my stay in San Francisco I came in contact with its mayor, 
the Hon. James Rolph, a number of times, once or twice on business 


but generally in a social way, and when Mayor Rolph came to New 
York to visit our mayor, the Hon. John F. Hylan, I had the pleasure 
of renewing our acquaintance, and let me tell you that Mayor Rolph 
is a live wire in every respect, democratic from the toes up and a 
good mixer. 

Although I was not officially on the reception committee to receive 
Mayor John P. Mitchel, I nevertheless was recognized as a member 
inasmuch as that my good friends Henry H. Curran and Frank 
Dowling, both of whom were prominent members of the committee 
proper, saw to it that J. J. Hickey, the old New York copper, was 
never forgotten when anything of an official nature, was on the pro- 
gram. On New York City day on the grounds of the San Francisco 
Exposition where the ceremony took place, I was given a seat of honor 
on the platform, also at the banquet at the St. Francis Hotel that 
evening, after which Alderman Curran and Alderman Bedell and my- 
self hired a car and rode all over the city, seeing the sights of San 
Francisco by night, and we thoroughly enjoyed the experience. 

The weather had been mighty bad for two weeks, one thing after 
another and every one of them bad, but it's a long road that has no 
turning, and the very day that Mayor Mitchel and his committee 
arrived^ so came the sunshine and I did not forget to let it be known 
how happy I was to see it. I came near putting my foot into it, for 
just when Mayor Rolph was about to take Mayor Mitchel and Mrs. 
Mitchel out for a drive, I happened to be there at the moment and I 
said, "Mr. Mayor, I think that God sent you here today so that you 
would bring with you a little of that beautiful New York sunshine," 
and I told him that we in San Francisco had not seen a ray of sunshine 
for over two weeks. Well, Heavenly Father, I shall never forget the 
look that Mayor Rolph gave me, after listening to my remarks about 
the weather. President of the Board of Alderman, Henry H. Curran, 
laughed and said to Mayor Mitchel, "John, this is my old friend, John 
J. Hickey, an old New York cop, so don't mind his remarks, he is all 
right," Mayor Mitchel then said, "What are you doing here, Mr. 
Hickey?" and I said, "Why I came out here to protect our Mayor," and 
we all enjoyed a good laugh. 

My first stop after leaving San Francisco was Sacramento, but I 
only stayed there one day taking the next train out for Reno. I had a 
little commission from Tom Conlon to Sheriff Jack Farrell to deliver 
and see through, and here again I had my own troubles in leaving. 
The sheriff offered me free board and lodging if I would stay, but to 
no avail, I was bound for New York on schedule plans. 

The ride through Nevada is not exactly what one would call 
pleasant, there is altogether too much alkali for one that is not used 


to it. If the car windows are raised so as to let a little fresh air in it 
brings with it clouds of this eye-smarting, blinding, nose-iritating dust, 
that penetrates even your shoes. If the window is closed the air soon 
becomes stale and foul and there you are between the devil and the 
deep sea. Reno is a pretty little town and well worth stopping over to 
see. Its reputation has of course gone before it so I will not attempt 
any remarks regarding it. What a sight were the beet fields of 
Colorado and Utah, and what an industry they represented. Much 
less than fifty years ago even the idea had not been born, but today 
according to reliable figures 2,000,000,000 pounds of these beets are 
grown and marketed or sent to the factories where they are converted 
into sugar. I am told by those whose business it is to know such things, 
that if the entire sugar-cane crop of ours should be a failure we could 
easily grow enough beets to counteract the loss. If the ratio of 
progress is maintained for a few years more it will be beets instead 
of wheat which will be our leading crop. I am not much on farming 
yet I have seen enough to realize that we have not as yet arrived at 
that stage where we can afiford to slight the farmer, but as far as I 
am concerned I think that policing is preferable to farming. 

While we are discussing farming perhaps a few words on the 
irrigation activities of the government may not be amiss. It is a 
wonderful thing and a great undertaking but in the end it will pay a 
thousandfold. Water from the mountains is sent through hundreds 
of thousands of acres, reclaiming the land, making worthless tracts 
productive, and furnishing homes, labor, and profit to millions of 
people, besides supplying the wants and needs of millions more. I 
had never given this phase of agriculture even a thought and when I 
first saw its workings in Arizona I was dumbfounded, and then when 
I traveled through the diflferent states and saw what irrigation could 
accomplish I ceased wondering. 

Sturdy trees laden down with fruit, green fields from which two, 
and oftentimes more, crops are harvested every season, beautiful 
homes and flourishing towns, and all this where only a very few years 
ago it was nothing but sand, sand, sand! Is it any wonder that I 
marveled and speculated as to the future? The possibilities of irriga- 
tion are without limit, likewise the benefits, and the more the government 
spends to advance and extend it the better it will be for every man, 
woman, and child in the whole domain. 

Traveling in this part of the world is not always just as you would 
like it to be; there are certain elements which seem to predominate 
here and for which there are apparently no immediate reply. While 
we were crossing the deserts of Nevada, where the alkali filled the air, 
we had to stop at a tank and get water for the engine, and in the 


period two rough-looking characters boarded the train and tried to 
hide themselves, but the conductor was on the watch and put them off. 
I felt sorry for the fellows and while I did not exactly find fault 
with the conductor, I made it plain that I thought his action was 
extreme. He listened attentively to what I had to say then replied: 
"If we were to allow these fellows to ride free there would soon be 
enough of them to rob the whole train. As it is, there are nearly 
twenty of them here now." This put the matter in a different light 
and when we came to Helper I was the first to aid in driving the fellows 
off the train, and let me tell you for a time it looked to me as if there 
were going to be serious trouble, but they are all cowards and a firm 
front soon scares them away. 

I was very anxious to see a Mormon and though I stayed in Salt 
Lake City several days, if I saw one I did not know it. Everybody 
seemed to be no better or no worse than myself. The ladies were 
charming and the men were men and the town itself was worthy of 
any sect. But I had heard such wonderful things regarding the 
Mormons and had read so much about their multiplicity of wives, 
Brigham Young, and others, that my curiosity was aroused, but to no 
purpose. The people were no different from those in New York or 
London. But Salt Lake City did one grand thing for it gave us 
Jack Dempsey. 

I visited the tabernacle and I must say that it is a wonderful build- 
ing. We have nothing like it in New York and I doubt if there is 
another approaching it anywhere in the world. I also had the pleasure 
of listening to its wonderful organ; words are hardly good enough to 
describe the grand piece of mechanism and the beautiful notes that 
float from its pipes. I would cheerfully sit up all night just for the en- 
joyment of hearing it. Of course if you go to the city you must also 
go to the lake which is about twelve miles away and the saltiest piece 
of water I ever tasted. Yes ! I tasted it ; I went to Garfield Park, hired 
a bathing suit, and took a plunge, or at least I tried to, but the nearest 
I came to it was walking out then rolling over on my back. I could 
not sink. Of course I know how to swim and to float so this knowl- 
edge may have interfered with my plunging. I am told that it is more 
or less dangerous to attempt a dive for the feet being lighter than the 
head will come to the surface first, but whether it is so or not I cannot 
say, I am only repeating. 

I was unfortunate in my selection of a hotel in Denver, Colorado. 
My practice has always been to put up as near the railroad depot as 
possible for it is handy coming and going; it saves time and quite 
often money, and as I only wish it for a sleeping place for the few 
days I intend to stay, why go farther away? I am a good one for 


carrying luggage and why I do it I cannot tell. On this trip I had 
with me three suitcases. Two are generally enough for the average 
man but I am not that kind. I am a New York cop and they run 
the scale from D.F. to W.G. 

The hotel of which I was speaking seemed all right, but when I 
came to lay my body down upon the mattress it was fearful ; first one 
spring would give a sudden jump, so would I, for the end of that 
spring was trying to go right through me, which I of course resented# 
I would get up and kick it back into place, then all would be pleasant 
until I tried to roll over. This would bring another spring into action 
and J. J. Hickey was soon out of bed again. This happened two or 
three times, when I picked up the mattress and let it hang over the 
side of the bed for about a foot. All was well. The springs no 
doubt were still growing and had to make new holes and were too 
weak for the job. The difference between that bed and a board was 
that the board has level spots in it. 

Chief of Police Felix O'Neill, on whom I called, asked me what 
hotel I was stopping in, and when I told him he roared out laughing, 
saying, "Why did you stop there, Mr. Hickey, and so many other 
good hotels near by?" I told him of my custom of stopping as near 
the depot as possible, and he laughed again and again, saying, "What 
could you expect from a New York cop they could not run ten miles 
in any direction without getting into water." He tried to get my goat 
a number of times, and was near to succeeding until I at last got wise 
to his tricks and then he quit kidding me. The Chief and his men 
made everything pleasant for me, and my stay in Denver was very 
much enjoyed, and I did not want to leave them. 

While on the question of bad hotels it reminds me of my trip to 
California. I walked into a small-sized hotel at midnight, just as they 
were about to close, and I asked a man whom I learned was the 
proprietor if I could get a room for the night, and he says, "Well, I 
will see. You sure can't stand out in the rain all night," and it was 
raining to beat the band. He lit a candle and took me up three 
fights of stairs, pointing to a room, "There, I guess that you will pass 
the night comfortably in thar," and he left me, and I being tired and 
wet, peeled off my clothes, and jumped into bed. To do my darndest 
I could not sleep, and when it came to daybreak I got up and looked 
around this bed, and Heavenly Father, the sheets were covered with 
red spots of something I could not name but that was still damp and 
moist. I lost no time in going down to see my boniface and after 
ordering my breakfast I told him of my experience. He cried out in 
amazement, "What room did you have?" and when I told him room 
nineteen he said, "No wonder." He then told me that his brother had 


been operated upon and had died in that bed, and Gol darn it he had 
forgotten to clean the bed and room. So it goes to show what a 
traveler is up against ; one is likely to run up against something like 
this at all times. 

Just as the train was pulling out of a watering station ten miles from 
Salt Lake City a young man who had just boarded it came and sat 
facing me in the smoker. There was something about him that at- 
tracted my attention. It seemed to me that I had met him somewhere 
before, but puzzle my brain as I would, I could not for the time being 
place him, and I then noticed that he carried no baggage. After a 
while the news butcher came along and this young man bought several 
copies of the local papers. Instead of reading them, he simply scanned 
the headlines and with an impatient gesture threw them out of the 
window, one at the time, and when it came to the last one he missed the 
window necessitating stooping to pick it up. 

I was feeling somewhat lonely and dispensing with all formalities 
I engaged him in conversation. He was a very bright youth, but I 
could see in his countenance that there was something wrong with him ; 
his furtive way of looking impressed me unfavorably, arousing my 
suspicions and before I was aware of it, I had accused him of being a 
hobo. My remark did not phaze him in the least ; in fact, he admitted 
that that was his occupation and grumbled to think that for the first 
time in ten years he was paying his fare. 

I smiled in spite of myself and at that he became downright friendly 
and talkative. His preference for the trucks of the cars to the cars 
themselves was genuine and sincere. He described to me in detail 
how with a board laid on the axles one could ride for hours without 
fatigue, in truth he said he often fell asleep and only awakened by 
the stopping of the train. He was a good talker and quite graphic in 
his descriptions and what he did not know about the place, country, 
roads, and people was hardly worth knowing. He told me that he had 
started out as a mere boy more for the fun of it than otherwise and 
now he could not give it up for a farm. Of course in the beginning 
his desire was to be a cowboy. What he had read of their lives and 
doings appealed to him, and one fine morning his home in Detroit lost 
him for good. He was earnest in his talk and most interesting, and 
as he pictured his parts step by step I could not help but admire him for 
his nerve and courage, though I felt sorry to think how foolish he was. 

After a while there came that inevitable pause which comes in all 
conversations and to break it I said, "The papers gave you quite some 
notice this morning, didn't they?" As quick as he was, I was quicker 
and I caught the flash in his eye that told me I was right in my 
surmise, and despite his ready denial I kept to the subject and before 


we had gone many miles he admitted that he was the man that the police 
of Salt Lake City were looking for. A hold-up had taken place there 
the night before and the hold-up man had as usual gotten safely away, 
leaving no traces nor clues behind him. 

"This hold-up business," he said, "is both the easiest and simplest 
way of making money and a fine living that one one can find any- 
where. All you have to do" he continued, "is to make sure that your 
man has the cash and you get it every time if you go about it right. 
The way I fell into it was funny. I was blamed hungry, yes, just as 
hungry as a wolf, and had asked as many as ten people to stake me 
to the price of a meal, and every one of them turned me down dirty, 
and then I became desperate, and I swore that the next one I asked 
would not turn me down. Just then a man came along and I whipped 
out my shooter and demanded a dollar but the poor guy was so fright- 
ened that instead of giving me one dollar he gave me his pocketbook 
and started off on a run. I, too, did the same thing but in a different 
direction. I have no idea as to his speed, but of my own I'll say that 
in less than five minutes I was a mile away and then I opened the 
pocketbook. Jumping frogs, but I nearly fell dead. I had never 
before possessed so much money in all my life. There was three 
hundred dollars in that small piece of skin. My next move was for 
the railroad depot, and through the excitement I suppose my hunger 
had left me. Luck was with me for a train was just pulling out. I 
was underneath it in a jiffy and on the trucks. After a little while 
I began to feel the want of food, and when the train finally came to a 
stop at a station some sixty miles away I had all I could do to drag 
myself from under the trucks and hunt up a restaurant. 

"My Heavens what a meal I did eat ; I had to show the waiter that I 
was good for it before he would serve me. My looks led him to believe 
that a dime or a quarter at the most would be my limit, but he too was 
fooled for when he saw my pocketbook, he nearly dropped dead. I had 
eaten so much I could scarcely move. I took a twenty dollar bill out of 
the pocketbook and handed it to the waiter to pay my check, and when 
he returned I gave him a tip, and didn't I feel as if I was somebody. It 
was the first tip that I had ever given and it made me feel like a 
different man and now," he added with a smile, "when I need a little 
ready cash I just drop into a town, look around, spot my man, turn off 
the trick, and make a getaway at once." 

I thought that I would give him a scare and I said to him, "Now 
young fellow, you are shooting off your business to me, not knowing 
that I am a New York policeman," but it never had the least effect be- 
cause he just did nothing but burst out laughing. "Why," he said, 
"old pal, I knew what you were when I was reading the papers for I 


dropped one on purpose so that I could get a good look at your feet. 
You've got the regulation shoes on now and I have seen too many of 
them and too often to ever forget them. I work New York as fre- 
quently as I do the West. I have to. Small cities cannot be visited 
more than once a year, perhaps two years, but in the larger places, 
such as New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Chicago, St. Louis, and 
San Francisco I can go when I feel like it and my way of traveling on 
the trucks makes it safe. They never look for men who have just 
made a ten or twenty thousand dollar haul under the floor of a pullman." 

In response to my question he said that he always worked alone 
but was in league with fellow members, as he called them, in every city, 
town, or village, always leaving a certain percentage of his earnings 
with them. This was necessary, he explained, for two reasons, in- 
formation regarding conditions, the last hold-up, who and where and 
other particulars necessary in a business way, and also in case of 
trouble, for more often than otherwise an innocent bystander is of 
great service in misdirecting the police or even making a rescue if 
matters have gone that far. "Organization," he said with a sly smile, 
"is becoming more popular every day." 

I asked him if he had ever tried his hand at holding up a train, and 
the way he said no convinced me that he was telling the truth. 

"Train work is too risky even if you are masked, for there is always 
from sixty to a hundred people who have seen you and sooner or later 
they'll get you, and most often by some little thing that had been over- 
looked or not provided for. Of course the getting you at the time of 
the hold-up is a hundred to one shot, for among the passengers may be 
ten or twenty or even more who are with you, and you are always 
protected that way and the only risk you run is some fellow shooting 
on the spot and you know how often that is done. The train men 
know what they are up against so they keep dark." 

The train had come to a stop and before I could say a word he was 
gone and I was left to my own reflections. What they were I will not 
inflict upon my readers, suffice it to say I could never fancy his job, 
and like a flash it came to my mind where I had first met him. The 
night before I was taking things easy watching the people getting on 
and off the cars. It was about eleven o'clock, and I being somewhat of 
a nighthawk, I could not see going to bed so early. I was standing 
there about ten minutes when a young man came up to me and asked me 
for a light, and not having any matches to give him I said, "Yes, you 
can take a light from this cigar if you wish. I have run out of matches," 
and he took the light and thanked me and walked down Fourth Street. 
He was dressed in an old blue shirt and dirty-looking cap with an old 
brown sack coat on him at that time, but when I next met him he was 


dressed much different, so that I was misled. I was told that he was 
seen waiting for a liquor saloon to close, and just as the Italian 
proprietor had gotten rid of some friends he counted his change and 
was about to lock the door when the man placed a gun at his side, saying, 
"Open up or I will blow the belly out of you," and of course there was 
nothing else for the Italian proprietor to do but obey this man's 

So he unlocked the door and was ordered to open up the cash 
register, and at this order he commenced to balk, and again the gun 
was pointed at his body, and it did not take him long to unlock the 
register, and Jim Cole from Detroit grabbed the cash, and after t)dng 
the man to the icebox he quickly made his getaway. In answer to 
my inquiry of how he came to locate this man, and in such a busy part 
of the city, he answered, "Why that dirty greaser, I have for some 
weeks tried to get him, for he and his gang passed some crooked 
money on a friend of mine, and I declared that if it took me a year, I 
would get him." I then asked him what he done with the gun. "Oh," 
he said, "I put the gun inside suitcase and shipped it off to where I 
am going now. We never carry anything with us after turning off 
a trick. We sent all that on ahead." I asked him how much he got 
from the Italian and he answered, "I got all he had, two hundred and 
fifty dollars, and I am going to meet the gang where I am getting off, 
and we will have a good time tonight." 

We were slowing up and he prepared to make a quick getaway, and 
he said, "Well, goodby old New Yorker, my name is Jim Cole, and I 
would like to meet you sometime when I next get back to New York. 
What is your name ?" "Oh," I said, "You don't want my name, but if 
you do, it is Jack O'Meara." 

'Oh," said he, "is that so. Tell me, are you any relation to Captain 
Jack O'Meara of the San Francisco police." And I said, "No, but I 
met Captain Jack, and I found him to be a fine fellow." "Oh, yes," 
he said," I have met him also, and while he had two of us right in 
San Francisco, one night nevertheless he gave us both a square deal, 
and with the assistance of that little organization of ours we beat the 
charge and Captain Jack was ordered to put us on the next train 
leaving Frisco." And jumping up from his seat, he said, "Well, here 
we are at Helper, and I will be on easy street in a very short time. So 
goodby, you will be here perhaps an hour waiting for an engine to 
help you over the mountains." 

It goes without saying that my bandit friend, like all such crooks, 
wound up in jail, but Jim Cole of Detroit certainly had his nerve with 
him. One can never tell whom they are riding with nowadays. I after- 
wards learned that my bandit pal was sent to jail for two years, leaving 


jail in 1917, just after we had declared war against Germany, and 
joined the army, going to France with the first division, and poor 
Jim Cole was killed in action, and the lone bandit of the Rocky 
Mountains gave up his young life on the bloody battlefields of Flanders, 
so that the world might be free and liberty loving to all mankind. 

I had another reason for stopping ofif in Denver, and it was to 
shake the hand of that grand wise man, the friend of children. Judge 
Benjamin B. Lindsey, the founder of the Juvenile Court. I know 
full well that there are some who will take exception to this remark, 
but to all intents and purposes he is the one man who should be given 
the credit for this grand work. Others in a way may have thought 
of it, but Judge Lindsey was the one that put it into operation and 
perfected it and let me tell you he had no easy job of it either. It was 
a hard fight from the start, and if any one can tell me why his ideals 
were opposed, I would like to listen to him. But I guess that is the 
way with most everything in life that is worth while, there will be 
found people everywhere who would rather obstruct than construct, 
people who are no good in anything that indicates advancement either 
morally or physically, and I have noticed quite often that these same 
people are the ones who stand the highest in their churches. Judge 
Lindsey's idea of protecting the children instead of punishing them, 
has even today many enemies and for the life of me I am not able to 
tell why. The boy of today is the man of tomorrow and to him we 
must look for the preservation of our country in all of its many 
ramifications, — political, social and commercial. They are here to take 
our places and any effort, any movement or idea that aids in the 
perfecting of the younger generation should I think and believe, receive 
our heartiest support, financially as well as morally. What Judge 
Lindsey has accomplished is now known not only to us but to the 
people abroad and where he was laughed at he is applauded, where he 
was jeered and derided he is greeted and welcomed by all the best people 
of the community, his reward is complete and he deserves it. I was 
sorry indeed that he was not in Denver for I would have appreciated 
meeting him, but better luck next time. 

The last I heard from this grand man was that he was reelected 
December, 1924, but the dammed Ku Klux Klan were trying their 
darndest to throw him out of office. The Judge won out April 15, 1925. 

From Denver I jumped to Chicago, and again I was up against it, 
for a strike was just then called to take place at midnight, and you 
can rest assured that I had no desire to be mixed up in any more strikes, 
for I had seen enough of that in New York and Brooklyn in the time 
that I was a policeman to last me all of my life, and I can say to my 
readers without any danger of future consequences, never willingly. 


for a strike, in my way of looking at it, is like tearing down the house 
you live in and the more successful you are in the job the harder 
you have got to work to build another, 

I am opposed to the strike for the simple reason that it always, 
without exception, opens the way for the crooked. If it could be 
held within bound it might be of some slight benefit, but this does not 
seem to be possible. I have had too many details in this branch of 
policing not to know what the results are going to be. If labor would 
only take the pass-word from capital which is "build up" and act on it, 
she would quickly find other and more effective means of gaining her 
ends than by striking. 

If I had not been a policeman it would have given me a start to 
meet in my hotel Detective Sergeants Billy Rohan, John L. Sullivan, 
Jack Moffit, and Jim Shaunessey. But I knew at once that they were 
there on business. It was not however my part to ask questions, there- 
fore we made the meeting a jolly one. It was fortunate in more ways 
than one, as I had in my pocket letters of introduction to each of them 
from my good friend. Detective Sergeant Tom Conlon of San Francisco, 
and it saved me the trouble of looking for them, so that we spent that 
day and evening very pleasantly, they of course knowing that the car 
strike was to begin at midnight, were prepared for it. 

It was only overnight for me in Chicago and the train the next 
morning for Buffalo and where, of course, my first call was upon 
Police Chief Michael J. Regan, better known in his city as Fighting Mike 
Regan, and for once the nickname is true to the subject. Chief Regan 
is a fighter, but he must know what he is fighting for first, then when 
he decides that he is on the right side of the cause, he goes in and woe 
betide the other fellow. Policing in Buffalo is no sinecure and the 
reason why Buffalo bears the good name it does is because of its police. 

The Chief made me his guest at once and took me around the city 
in his own car showing me not only the better parts of the city, but 
others as well. Chief Regan, was a good story-teller and I enjoyed 
every minute of my stay with him, and between telling stories and 
asking about his good friend the late Martin Sheridan, the once great 
athletic policeman of the New York police force, we spent a happy two 
days together. 

Perhaps what impressed me the most in Buffalo was the fish. At 
one time my post in New York while connected with the police force 
took in the great Fulton Fish Market, and there one will find fish 
both in quantity and variety, but in Buffalo what I saw were the white 
fish, boat load after boat load, thousands upon thousands of them. 
They say that the catch is from thirty to fifty millions of pounds every 
year, and that the demand is always beyond the supply. Looking at 


their unloading on the dock one wonders where they could possibly 
go to, yet New York state alone has nearly ten millions of people 
and if they should take the whole catch it would only mean five pounds 
of fish per year for each person, less than a half pound per month. 
Not very much when it is brought right down into units. 

The nations food bill, let us see to what figures does it lead us. 
One hundred and ten millions of people averaging fifty cents a day 
calls for the expenditure of fifty-five millions of dollars every day or 
the sum of more than twenty billions of dollars per annum. 

Where does it all come from? 

And while looking at this great market of fish carried my thoughts 
back to the good old days around the old Fulton Market, when young 
Alfred E. Smith, the present governor of New York state, worked there 
both late and early, and a good boy young Alf was, ever ready to do a 
good turn then just as he is today. I could tell many a good story of 
Alf Smith's boyhood days and I saw him today weeping over the body 
of his one great boyhood and lifelong friend and companion for the 
last thirty-five years, Andy McDonald, a detective sergeant of the New 
York police department, and the body guard of his good friend and 
companion Governor Alfred E. Smith. 

Yes, dear readers, my thoughts once more flew back to the dark 
waters of the great East River, on the borders of which Governor 
Smith was born. It might seem strange that I should take it upon 
myself to write up this story of my dear good friend. Governor Alf 
Smith, whom I have known ever since August 27th, 1890, when I first 
turned out to do police duty in the old fourth ward of Manhattan, and 
young Alf Smith was one of the first of the good boys who were the 
pupils of Father John J. Kean, former Pastor of St. James's Church 
on James Street. Young Alf Smith was* rlqi ;onl}j a^Bilff;il5ut*'hd'Y?e\4*3'/ 
policeman's friend also, and in after yeare ^id-teol: one lotb ♦his* f armfy'j • ' 

It was told to me on my first night out on patrol thai iij^ver I had 
an occasion to send for assistance or anything of that character^ r^^k 
up the Smith boy, and you can trust your Ti'fe- oji'- him*, an^|'e\;er*siMc^ 
I have at all times found that I was given 'some 'good advice 'tfiaf firsY 
night out. And where is there a better place to mention this little 
story about Governor Alfred E. Smith, than when speaking of Fulton 
Market and its fish. 

Naturally being in Bufifalo I had to visit Niagara Falls and with 
my good friend Chief Regan's card in my pocket introducing me to 
Chief of Police Michael Lyons, I made the trip. Watching the world's 
famous cataract known from land's end to land's end, the finishing up 
point of thousands of happy brides, it is at Niagara their romance 
finishes, and they then bid goodby to all pleasures. 


My swing around the continent could with truth be said to have 
ended at Niagara Falls, for my next and last stop was New York City, 
the fairest spot on earth to me, the land of my adoption and the home 
of my children, and holding all that is most dear to me. 

It's a little Island is old New York; 

In acres it is few ; 

But its heart beats right, its greeting warm, 

Cheering you through and through. 




3 2222 06667 4534 




The Free Likary of Phil 

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