I went down, along with thousands of my perspirin’ fellow-men and fellow-women, to Coney Island, the other day, in one of the Iron steamboats, and I couldn’t help thinkin’ how different from, and how much better this was than the old four-horse stage that used to be the only route to the seashore. The stage used to leave the Fulton ferry, pass through Flatbush, Flatlands and Graves end and thence by the shell road to Coney Island, goin’ once a way each day, and chargin’ each way fifty cents.
People, however, thought the Coney Island stage was first class, till the steamboats began, and then there were no more stages. The first steamboat that ever made a trip to Coney Island was the old Proprietor, a little better than a tug, just forty years ago. The next year two other steamboats, such as they were, the American Eagle and the Ion, began to make excursions, and the Coney Island steamer trip became the regular thing, developin’ a sharp opposition between the various steamboats, each of whom employed its “runners,” who hated each other mortally, in the way of business, and made things very lively on the island.
Some of these Coney Island excursion boat runners were very old characters, in their way. One of ‘em, called Dandy Garvin, was a sort of early “dude,” quite an exquisite in appearance. He did the “moral suasion” line of business, tried to “persuade” people by his plausible talk to take his boat, and never resorted to violence, unless some other runner tried violence. Then Dandy Garvin would “take off his coat and roll up his sleeves” and give the other runner all the violence he wanted.
Another runner was named Bush and was once a comic singer. He was the “funny man” among the runners. He claimed to be a brother of Frank Bush, the comic actor.
Jack Ebbetts was a good deal on the Dandy Garvin suave line of business, only not so ugly or so much of a dandy. He was very good at “chin music,” and generally devoted himself to the women of a party. He would get in a word of flattery about some woman’s eyes, or face, or dress, and then of course the woman was bound to take his boat, and the men folks had but to submit.
Chamberlain, now of the Union Square Theatre, was once a steamboat runner and a very good one. John Morrissey tried his hand once at running for a Coney Island excursion boat, but got disgusted, and confined himself after that to runnin’ for the North River boats. Mike Norton, now Justice Norton, was at one time, I believe, a steamboat runner. Among the old time “runners” was Denny Galvin, who in his day has tried almost every excursion line that goes out of New York. He tried the Fort Lee boats, the Albany boats, the Coney Island boats and the boats for the fishin’ banks. With the last he made out the best, for he was an enthusiastic fisherman himself, and knew just how to entice fishermen, or would-be fisherman, to his particular boat, promisin’ ‘em all sorts of tackle and all sorts of fish. And then, to make his promises good, he would get on the boat after it started. And when it got to the fishin’ banks he would take a hand at the lines and show others how to catch fish by the best possible method, i.e., by catchin’ ‘em himself.
Once a man fell overboard and Dennis jumped in after him and saved the man, just in time to save himself from a shark. The shark, as it was, nearly got a piece of Dennis’s leg, as he was hauled up, with the man he had saved.
Mike O’Brien is one of the veteran “runners,” so is Harry Cochrane and Owen Gannon. Owen claims to be a brother, I believe, of the lamented Mary Gannon, of Wallack’s, and is at present shoutin’ for an Iron Pier boat.
Tom Flynn was one of “the pickers up” in the business. Tom wouldn’t hesitate to bodily pick up a man and run him into any boat he was “runnin’” for. Sometimes if the frightened would-be excursionist would try to escape Tom would give him chase, and a very lively scene would ensue, amusin’ to everybody but the chased man, who would sometimes be scared for his life, and for the man chasin’, who was always dead in earnest for his man.
But there has been even more change in the accommodations at Coney Island than there has ever been in the way of gettin’ to it.
Nobody thinks of the old Oceanic Hotel now. Ninety-nine out of every hundred pleasure Seekers at Coney Island don’t even know there is such a house, yet time was when it was to Coney Island what old Union Hall was to Saratoga. All the best families boarded there, and had a very good time boardin’ there, too.
The Oceanic was originally the Coney Island House, but as that sounded too “road house-y” for the permanent boarders the name was changed. Charles Rogers used to manage it, and for years made a big thing of it. Then he retired and lived in New York at ease awhile, till he was murdered under circumstances which have been elsewhere narrated in these reminiscences.
The Grinnells used to stop at the Oceanic with Rogers. So did the Griswolds, the Rhinelanders and other of the old families. A great many Southern families of wealth patronized the place, bringin’ their slaves with ‘em. The table was simply superb, and people could get a better dinner then and there for one dollar than they can get anywhere on Coney Island now for five dollars.
The Oceanic was puffed a good deal in the papers, too. Old Bennett stopped there several summers, and wrote it up, and Mrs. Bennett was a great admirer of the hotel.
In those days there was an old merchant, hailin’ from New York, named Gilbert Davis, who was very fond of Coney Island, and all the time suggestion’ plans for its improvement. He was always prophesizin’ the future greatness of the place, basin’ his prophecies on two simple points which nobody could gainsay, the rapid growth of New York and the proximity of Coney Island.
One evening, in joke, on the piazza of the old Oceanic, somebody proposed that such a great place as Coney Island was goin’ to be couldn’t be without a ruler; Mr. Davis should be elected Governor. The idea took immediately, ballots were deposited, a formal vote taken, and Gil Davis was unanimously elected Governor of Coney Island.
He held the title to his dyin’ day, was very proud of it, and Old Whykoff’s tavern, where he boarded, was after that christened the Governor’s Mansion.
Old Whykoff, “Uncle John,” was the original tavern keeper of Coney Island, starting the first place of entertainment there over sixty-five years ago. This tavern was a mere shed, and was carried away, every stick of it, by a tidal wave. All the native animals on the island were also carried away by this tidal wave. There are plenty of animals on the island still, but they go there on two legs.
Two of the original Whykoff family still survive, and one of ‘em, a widow, Mrs. Green, keeps a tavern there still. But all that’s left of the original Coney Island is this one old woman.
