She was walkin’, as usual, very fast, with a sort of hop first and then a jerk, and carryin’ the bundle of papers in her hand, the unvaryin’ bundle. I am alludin’ to one of the characters of New York and Park row, and one of the smartest and most active of women. Miss Middy Morgan, who has been in her time one of the best judges of cattle as well as the best writer on cattle in the country, or for all I know to the contrary, in any other country.
It was a queer racket for a woman, this cattle craze, but just as Rosa Bonheur got struck on horses so Middy Morgan got struck on cattle. It would have done some men good to have heard the lady give her reasons for preferrin’ cattle to men.
She came naturally by her taste; for her father was a cattle dealer in old Ireland, and a successful man in his way. His daughter, bein’ a good deal with him, naturally imbibed his likin’s and adopted his pursuits.
After his death she went on the continent cattle huntin’, searchin’ for rare specimens, and somehow she drifted into the employ of King Victor Emmanuel, who was nearly as fond of fine cattle as he was a fine women–nearly, but not quite.
Middy always could take care of herself, and the two gallant King didn’t trouble her any, but she served him faithfully in her department, and received from him many tokens of esteem.
They tell a good story of Middy Morgan which may or may not be true. They say that she had an admirer, who, one afternoon, growin’ desperate at the repeated snubbings of his fair one, determined to make one definite and “positively the last” proposal right on the sidewalk as they walked along the City Hall Park together, the lady bein’ just from a newspaper office, where she had been deliverin’ her cattle report.
The time and place were not exactly propitious for sentiment, but the very contrast, suggested by the scene and surroundings, was a point in favor. Anyway the young man pled his suit with all the eloquent earnestness of an honest love, and perhaps his eloquence and his earnestness, his pleadings backed by his perseverance, might have won the suit.
But, just then, in the sweetly-solemn moment, when he paused for a reply, lo! there passed along a herd of cattle, turnin’ into Broadway from a cross street leadin’ from the river. In an instant all the young lover’s talk and taffy had been driven from her head. She couldn’t have remembered just then a word he had uttered, though he had been doin’ his level best. She had no eyes, no ears, no anythin’ for him; she was all absorbed in the beautiful cattle.
Oblivious utterly of the tender theme to which she had been listenin’ all along, she seized her disconcerted adorer by the arm and pinched him in ecstasy as she gazed open-mouthed upon her “passin’ regiment” of pets. He “never told his love” again.
Middy Morgan was never classed among those “agitators” who want to exercise the right of suffrage, but she belongs to the same class of women as Mrs. Maxwell, of Colorado, who has shot, skinned, stuffed and sold over three hundred animals out West. Not killing for “sport,” but for the maintenance of herself and family, numberin’ among her trophies bears, antelopes, elan, prairie dogs, squirrels and beavers; and Mrs. Mary S. Miller, who was captain of a Memphis steamer, the Saline, and made a mighty good captain at that; and Mrs. Rogers, “the cattle queen” of Texas, who owns, I am told, more heads of cattle than any one man in the state of Texas, and manages her immense “ranche” and every detail in person.
These were all active, strong-bodied, as well as strong-minded women, and I have never yet met, and don’t expect to meet, the man who is their superior, and I would be glad to meet more men than I do who are their equals.
[Editor’s notes: While complimentary of Maria “Midy” (or “Middy”) Morgan, the above column focuses on a (probably fictitious) incident showcasing her assumed disinterest in men. There is much more of interest that can be said about Morgan, but the column writer chose to invent a sexist slant; and moreover made sure to get in an attack on women’s suffrage.
She lived for a time at Robinvale, New Jersey, where she managed the depot building of the Pennsylvania Railroad.
She moved with her sister Jane, an accomplished artist, to Staten Island. The two sisters had a home built to their unique design, a three-story brick building with a mansard roof, with a chimney running through the center, and each floor having one open room. Jane decorated the paneling, though only the third floor was occupied, and could only be reached by ladder. It was meant to be burglar-proof–but in fact, was burgled in 1898.]
To read more about Midy Morgan:
Middy Morgan (wikipedia)
Dark Horse? The Tale of Midy Morgan (Through the Hourglass blog)
Homan, Philip A. “Lady in the Stockyards: The Life and Career of Midy Morgan, Livestock Reporter, Agricultural Editor—and First Woman in the Newsroom—at the New York Times” Paper, Agricultural History Society 2016 Annual Meeting, New York City and Briarcliff Manor, New York, June 23-25, 2016.
