Political feelin’ in New York and Brooklyn ran much higher thirty years ago than it does at present. The differences between the Blaine men and the Cleveland men to-day don’t begin to compare with the differences that existed before the war between the politicians and between the people of the then rival localities of Brooklyn and Williamsburg.
This may sound strange to those people who are ignorant of the fact that Williamsburg ever existed independently of Brooklyn, but the fact is that the average Brooklynite and the average Williamsburger used to regard ‘emselves as rivals if not positive enemies. Neighbors they were, it is true, but neighbors who were always contendin’ against each other.
The Brooklyn people called the Williamsburger’s “Dutch heads,” in illusion to their foreign nationality, while the Williamsburgers called the Brooklynites “Brooklyn Yanks.” These terms were considered almost as bad as “thief” or “coward” and were always resented, if heard by the one so termed. The dividin’ line between these two sets was aptly called “Division avenue,” a name it retains to this day.
Along this Division Avenue for years there was no livin’ in peace at all. So far was the feelin’ carried that, although there was a good deal of what the French call esprit de corps in the old volunteer fire department, the fire laddies once let quite a fine house burn to the ground without receiving any of their attention or exertions, simply because it stood on Division avenue. The Brooklyn Fire Department didn’t do its duty on this occasion because it took for granted the Williamsburg boys would be on hand, and the Williamsburg boys didn’t do anything because they took it for granted that the Brooklyn boys would be there on foot. So that actually right in the midst of the two fire departments a house burned up and down, illustratin’ forcibly the old adage that between two stools one falls to the ground.
Division avenue thus became, in a small way, what Canada is to-day–a harborin’ place for thieves, etc., and, to carry out the analogy, the constabulary force of Brooklyn and Williamsburg hated each other as cordially and watched each other as narrowly as the Montreal and Quebec detectives of the present year of grace.
The hostile local feelin’ was even shared by the local magistrates of the two places. The English-speakin’ justices of Brooklyn sneered at the Dutch speakin’ justices of Williamsburg, who returned the sneers with interest, and a constant interchange, not of judicial courtesies, but petty personal and professional annoyances, passed between ‘em.
One of the hardest flings at the “Dutch heads” of Williamsburg was when the Brooklynites alluded to their “beer” gardens as “bear” gardens. It was a bad pun, but it caused a deal of bad blood. In fact, several fights grew out of it.
The most strikin’ (literally the most strikin’) illustration and result of this local feelin’ was afforded by a row which occurred five years before the breakin’ out of the great civil war, which by its very magnitude put an end to all merely local strife.
There was at that time a local politician named Sam Colter, who was a resident of Brooklyn, and who was interested in some local legislation, adverse to Williamsburg, at Albany. He won his point at Albany and so determined to have a sort of high time in his own neighborhood, and celebrate what he was pleased to call his victory.
He got about fifty of his adherents and they resolved to make a raid on Williamsburg and raise old Cain. Among the “Dutch heads” a man named Slausen got wind of this contemplated “raid.” Slausen was to Williamsburg what Colter was to Brooklyn–and hearin’ that his rival was goin’ to raise high jinks, he resolved to spoil his fun and raise the jinks higher, so he got fifty or sixty Dutchmen all ready and made their headquarters at his place in the Eastern District meat market.
When the fifty “Yanks” under Colter marched into the burgh they found the fifty “Dutch heads,” under Slausen, all ready for ‘em; and when the two fifties met there was a first-class row of one hundfed or more.
Beer barrels were bursted, and the sacred liquid, as dear to the “Dutch heads” almost as their own blood, was spilled into the street. The sight of this wasted material rendered the “Dutch heads” wild, and they not only swore the old, long-winded Knickerbocker oaths, but they resorted to more solid weapons in the way of sticks and stones. The “Dutch heads” were solid and did a good deal of execution with their weapons, but the “Yanks” were more active, because less fleshy than their opponents and rather had the best of it.
For a while the fight was about even. Then the more agile Yanks got the best of it, till finally, the tide of victory was turned in favor of the “Dutch heads” by a rather clever trick on the part of the Dutchmen.
In the midst of the row Sam Colter’s house was seen to be on fire, and, of course, Sam and his men, takin’ it for granted that his place had been set on fire by the Williamsburgers, rushed, vowin’ vengeance, to the burning house.
The Brooklyn Fire Department, likewise, rushed up to Colter’s house, also breathing vengeance. But when they got to the burnin’ house lo! they found it was a false alarm. The house wasn’t burnin’ after all. Some of the “Dutch heads” had got some chemicals, some red fire, and had, by this aid, got up a mimic conflagration, which gave the Williamsburgers time to collect and add to their forces. And when Sam Colter and his gang returned to Williamsburg to continue their raid they found this time that the Dutch were too many for the Yanks.
Victory perched on the banners of the largest number, and although the Brooklyn police, who finally swooped down on the Williamsburgers took six captives to the station house in Brooklyn, the Williamsburg police took seven captives to the lock up in their borough, and among the seven was Sam Colter himself, whereas Slausen was uncaptured and unhurt.
This decided the day, or rather the night, in favor of the “Dutch heads,” and although the Brooklynites did all they could to worry and detain their Williamsburg captives (just as the Williamsburg justices did all they could to annoy and detain the Brooklyn captives), the row finally ended in a confessed triumph for the “Dutch heads,” which was celebrated in many a beer (or bear) garden for many a night, and which kept the Williamsburgers in good humor till their burg was finally annexed to and swallowed up in Brooklyn.
