Meat is goin’ up, or at least, the butchers say it is, and are chargin’ accordin’ly. Household provisions are gettin’ dearer, while speculators who get up corners in grain and produce are gettin’ richer. As long as the public can stand it the butchers and speculators can. But not so very many years ago but that livin’ New Yorkers can still remember it distinctly there was a riot here in New York caused by the high price of provisions and the “cornerin’” of grain in a small way (compared to present transactions) by produce dealers and speculators.
It was a big riot, too, and at one time threatened to assume very serious proportions.
The Winter had been very severe, and, comin’ right after a poor grain season, there was much less than the usual supply of grain on hand, and flour had advanced to twelve and even fifteen dollars a barrel–a very high price for flour then.
The poor suffered, of course, and not only had to pay more for their bread, but their meat, the butchers, of course, not bein’ willin’ that the bakers should have a “rise” all to ‘emselves. Then the coal men got a little envious of the butchers, and put up the price of fuel, and lastly, the landlords, wantin’ their little whack at the poor devil, put up rents.
And of course the politicians, seein’ all this, saw their little make out of it, and advanced their political capital, just as the rest were advancin’ their cash capital.
The Locofocos made a point that the high prices were caused for the benefit of the rich, and were in the interest of capital against labor, while the Temperance party, then quite influential in New York, made the point that the high price of grain was owin’ to the tremendous amount of grain used by the distilleries. The Locofocos were a hard drinkin’ party, as a rule, and of course, as a rule, the Temperance party didn’t drink at all. But politics, like misery, makes strange bed-fellows, and so the whisky lovers and the whisky haters made common cause together on this one point.
At first the discontented masses did, as they always do at first in New York, nothin’ but talk. Then they took to public speakin’, and a meetin’ was held at the old Tabernacle to consider and act upon the high price of grain and provisions.
Then, as a step still further on, and outdoor mass meetin’ was decided upon, and on a certain Friday in February it was announced in some of the papers and placarded in hand-bills and posters all over town that on the next Monday at four o’clock there would be an indignation meetin’ in City Hall Park.
The notice callin’ this meetin’ in the Park was quite strikin’, short and strong. It began thus: “Bread, meat, rent, fuel. Their prices must come down; the voice of the people shall be heard and will prevail. The sovereign people will meet in the Park, rain or shine. All the friends of humanity, determined to resist monopoly and extortion, will be there.”
The call was signed by eight or ten names, among ‘em Moses Jacques, Alexander Ming, Jr., Elijah F. Crane, Paulus Hedles and John Windt.
On the day after this call was issued a policeman found a letter dropped in the Park and addressed to Mr. Lennox, but without any signature. This note stated that it was intended to attack the stores of the flour dealers to get at their flour, and that two false alarms of fire were to be given, one from the City Hall and one from the Battery, so as to distract the attention of the police, and durin’ the excitement caused by these false alarms the flour warehouses would be attacked.
The mayor, Cornelius V. Lawrence, also received several anonymous letters, warnin’ him of comin’ danger, but no notice was taken of ‘em, and no special preparations were made to keep order at the comin’ indignation meetin’ at the Park. Only “the poor” and “the rabble” were supposed to take part in this meetin’, so the well-satisfied officials, whose salaries were certain, didn’t bother with it at all till too late.
Monday came, clear and cold, and about five thousand people assembled about four o’clock in the City Hall Park, a pretty rough crowd, too, though there were some “poor but honest” men in it.
It wasn’t a formal affair at all, this meetin’; still it managed to keep up appearances. Moses Jacques was appointed chairman, though he wasn’t provided with any chair, and Alexander Ming, Jr., was the chief speaker. After a while other men got to talkin’, and after another while several men got talkin’ and yelling and denouncing landlords, and butchers, and bakers, and property holders, and rich men, and grain speculators, and the police, and the clergy, all at once and all together.
But the great speech of the meetin’, the speech would have which had more effect than all the other speeches put together with was a speech which was really impromptu; a speech which was really a sort of an “inspiration”; a speech which was spoken by a man who had never made a public speech before, and who probably never made one again, and who wouldn’t have made this speech if he hadn’t been two thirds drunk and under the influence of liquor, and who climbed up unasked to the platform, from which he soon made himself heard, as well as seen.
“Fellers citizens,” he cried, “Missr Hart–you all know Missr Hart, fell’r citizens–has now got fifty-three thousand barrels–just think of it, feller citizens, fifty-four thousand barrels flour–I repeat, feller citizens, fifty-five thousand barrels flour, more or less, in his store. I respectfully s’gest, Missr Chairman and feller citizens, that we, the people, here assembled in majesty and–and you, Missr Chairman–go to Misst Hart’s store, in person, and offer him eight dollars a barrel for his flour–if anybody got eight dollars in his clothes. And then, Missr Chairman and feller citizens, if Missr Hart does not take the eight dollars, let us take his flour, Missr Chairman and feller citizens.”
This speech was hailed with wild rounds of applause, and the crowd raised the cry at once “To Hart’s! To Hart’s!” Moses Jacques, Alexander Ming, Jr., and others tried to stop this demonstration, and hustled the speaker off the platform. There is really no evidence to show that the leaders of this meetin’ were not in earnest, and at the same time were actin’ from their point of view as good citizens. They wanted redress, and cheaper provisions, but they were opposed to riot and robbery. The riot itself was altogether accidental, and unpremeditated by the leaders of the meetin’, and the result only shows how dangerous it is to play with the mob, and how easy it is to start a power that you can’t control.
At any rate, ‘spite of the prudent protests of the leaders of the meetin’, the mob now took things into its own heads, and hands, and feet, and with a yell, rushed from the park to Hart’s store, which was on Washington street, between Dey and Courtlandt streets.
But, fast as the mob went, a little boy, belongin’ to Hart’s store, who had been listenin’ at the meetin’ in the Park, ran faster, and gettin’ to Hart’s store before the mob, gave notice of its comin’ to the clerks and porters.
These at once secured the doors and windows, but not till some of the early birds in the mob had got at some ten or twenty barrels of the flour, which they rolled out and broke open in the street.
The advancin’ mob hailed these broken barrels as trophies of victory, and yelled louder than ever, and began throwin’ brickbats against the now closed store.
The store was a large buildin’ of substantial brick, and its doors were of iron, three wide doors, but well-secured, windows the same–a formidable buildin’, but the mob didn’t mind it a bit. “We’ll have all that flour out in an hour,” said one of the crowd to another, and he kept his word.
Just then old Hart, the flour dealer and proprietor of the warehouse, came along, attended by a posse of police which he had summoned to his aid.
The mob went for the police with a wilder yell than ever, and in about five minutes all the clubs of the police were either broken or taken from ‘em, and in possession of the mob, which groaned at and mocked the police.
Then the Mayor came along with some more police. But the second batch of police didn’t do any better than the first. As for the Mayor, the mob first yelled and hooted at him, then fired stones and brickbats at him, till his Honor was glad to get away alive.
This gave the mob the street and the store all to ‘emselves a while, and they availed ‘emselves of the opportunity.
A big, burly Irishman, actin’ as leader, the mob made a kind of batterin’ ram of itself, and altogether a lot of men rushed against the middle door of the warehouse. The door caved in and the mob rushed in after the door. Then some of the men took hold of the busted door and used it as a batterin’ ram against the other doors, which were soon broken open.
The mob now had possession of the place. Hart and his clerks and partners had disappeared. So had the police, for a space. The masses were masters.
In a few minutes big barrels full of flour were bein’ thrown out from the windows of the warehouse into the street. One of the barrels fell on a man below, a looker-on, and broke his leg. This accident rendered the rest more careful, and they gave the barrels room to fall, and then emptied ‘em of the flour after they had fallen.
Over six hundred barrels of flour were wantonly destroyed in less than sixty minutes, and sackfulls of wheat followed the fate of the flour. About one thoiusand bushels of wheat were worse than wasted.
All, men, women and even children, joined madly in the work of destruction and disorder.
One boy, named James Roach, helped to destroy over fifty barrels of flour, cryin’ out, as he helped throw the barrels out: “Here goes flour at eight dollars a barrel!” This Roach stood on one of the upper window sills of the store, and risked his life several times, comin’ near tumblin’ along with the barrels into the street; but the crowd applauded him as if he were a little hero, instead of a big fool.
While this was goin’ on a part of the mob ran over to Meech’s warehouses on Coenties Slip, and another portion to Herrick and Co.’s flour store, but didn’t succeed with these establishments as they had with Hart’s, and so came back to Hart’s again.
By this time it had got to be quite dark. By this time, too, the police had had time to recover ‘emselves, and the Mayor had ordered out the military. So the mob was doomed.
The police and the soldiers rushed into Hart’s store, drove the mob out, arrested a number, closed the store, and took possession of the buildin’ and of what flour was left. They also took possession of Master James Roach and put him in jail.
The police took a number of men to prison–that is to say, they tried to take ‘em. But while goin’ along with their prisoners a body of drunken rioters attacked ‘em, and although the police fought bravely, headed by the chief, who fought like a tiger till they very clothes were torn from his back, the rioters were victorious in the skirmish, and the prisoners, or most of ‘em, were rescued and escaped.
This was but the last spurt of the mob though, and by nine o’clock that Monday night order reigned in New York.
The weather had a good deal to do with it. The night was so cold that the mob was glad to get undercover anywhere. One don’t feel like standin’ in the street breaking open flour barrels with perhaps no overcoat on and the thermometer near zero.
Among the very last people to quit the scene of strife were some old women, who had very sensibly brought baskets with ‘em, which they filled with flour to make bread for their families.
These women were about the only smart people in the whole mob, exceptin’ the leaders and the signers of the original call to the indignation meetin’ in the park, who had all gone home, or somewheres else the moment they saw that the mob’s “indignation” was goin’ to take a muscular shape.
The National Guards under Col. Smith, and Col. Helas’s regiment were kept under arms all Monday night, muskets loaded and carriage boxes filled with powder and ball in case they were needed, the signal for alarm bein’ three wraps on the great bell of the City Hall, and a great many citizens stayed awake all that night to hear that big bell ring; but it didn’t.
There was no more trouble. The police kept wadin’ about Washington street knee-deep in flour and wheat, the military kept guard, and New York kept quiet.
The upshot of the matter was that about forty rioters were indicted, tried and sent to State Prison; that all the leaders escaped even indictment; that James Roach was sent to jail for seven years, and that after the riot, as a good deal of grain had been wasted, and the amount there for diminished, the price of flour was fifty cents a barrel more than it was before the masses were indignant.
[Editor’s notes: The Locofocos were a faction of the Democratic party, opposed to the Tammany Hall faction. Locofocos were composed mainly of the poor and working class; they were against monopolistic business practices. They were named after a type of matchstick used to light fires.]
