Everybody knows everythin’ about John Kelly as a politician, but very few remember much about John Kelly in his early days, when he was to a certain extent “one of the boys,” and I have long intended to devote a chapter to the “Boss” as one of the “institutions” of the city.
Kelly never was what they style “a pugilist,” but he used to associate a good deal with some noted pugilists of the old school, in one of their old haunts called “The Comet.” This place was kept by another man named Kelly–no relation of John’s–a chap called Manus Kelly, more familiarly known as “Manny Kelly.” It was located on Mott street and was a great resort of Tom Hyer’s, also for a while of Yankee Sullivan’s. Among others “Dave” Broderick, then an enthusiastic fireman and a popular “sport,” and “Billy” Lloyd, a chum of Kelly’s, used to come to the “Comet,” and there they and John Kelly became warm friends.
Broderick, like Kelly, never was a “pugilist,” but he knew how to defend himself and could “down” his man in a fight. Kelly, Broderick and Lloyd entered into a sort of mutual alliance to protect ‘emselves from the “roughs” who were to be found occasionally at the ”Comet,” and this fact saved ‘em many a time from broken heads. It required a pretty strong team to tackle Kelly, Lloyd and Broderick combined. Once Tom Hyer and Joe Winrow, who was later on one of Hyer’s seconds in his fight with Sullivan, got mad at somethin’ Kelly said at the “Comet” one night, and sailed in to “wipe the floor” with him. But Broderick happened in, just at the nick of time and they didn’t “wipe” worth a cent.
Another place that Kelly frequented at this period in the evenin’s was the tavern on Elm street, known all over that section of town as the “Old Ivy Green.” This place was run by Malachi Fallon, and then, when Fallon went to California, By John Lord. This “Ivy Green” had a big “pull” in politics, and Judge Bronson, once Collector of the Port of New York declared, that he was so bothered by the persistency of the “Ivy Green” gang in huntin’ office that he resigned in consequence. Broderick used to attend the Ivy Green, and the two friends got here acquainted with men like Sweeny, Matt Brennan and John Clancy. Kelly was never a “teetotaler,” but he was always temperate, and his friends claim that he was never drunk in his life.
Kelly was engaged as principal into severe fights, but he was not the aggressor in either case. But in both cases he made it confoundedly hot for the other side.
His first fight was when he was workin’ at grate settin’ and soapstone cuttin’ in Jacob Creamer’s yard, corner of Broome and Elizabeth streets. A young chap workin’ in this yard didn’t like John, and one day hit him in the face, callin’ him a hard name. Quick as lightnin’ Kelly hit him back and wanted to lick him or get licked, then and there. But the friends of the men interfered and made ‘em wait till recess for dinner came. Then they let the two fight it out, and, as far as possible, after the fashion of the prize ring, with seconds and all that. Nobody ate much dinner in Creamer’s yard that mornin’. They took it out in lookin’ at the fight.
The other chap was bigger than Kelly and punished him terribly at first, but Kelly took his punishment without squealin’, meanwhile gettin’ in a blow now and then on different parts of his antagonist’s body, tryin’ their effect on him to see where he could find some part more vulnerable than the rest. He happened to hit his antagonist on the right side of the chest once and noticed that he winced. This gave Kelly his cue–his point. It showed him what he had been waitin’ and lookin’ for–the weak point of his adversary, and from that moment on John Kelly fought a characteristic fight.
He didn’t hit wildly, he didn’t exhaust his strength in scatterin’ carelessly directed blows. He aimed at the right side of his adversary’s chest every time, and hit him there so often and so hard that at last, although he was nearly licked himself, he quite licked the other fellow first. This was indeed a characteristic Kelly fight.
His second row was with a big truckman who insisted on drivin’ his truck through a procession in which Kelly was takin’ part. Kelly took hold of the truckman’s horses and then the truckman got down and took hold of Kelly.
A fight ensued, a desperate street encounter, but no knives or pistols were used, only fists. But the fists were heavy as sledge-hammers, especially John Kelly’s. He struck the truckman with all his force on the forehead, and down dropped the truckman insensible. Everybody thought he was dead. The senseless form was carried to the nearest drug store, and to Kelly’s infinite delight (and I suppose the truckman’s, too) it was restored to consciousness, but it took the truckman a week before he was fit for work again, and the whole affair taught John Kelly a lesson of self-control which he has never forgotten.
These “two and a half fights” (as Kelly alludes to ‘em, the “half” fight bein’ the almost row between Broderick and himself on one side and Hyer and Winrow on the other) are among the few pugilistic contests that John Kelly has ever been engaged in, and for a man of his naturally pugnacious temperament the list is wonderfully small.
John Kelly was never a regular member of any engine or hose company, but he was a “runner” occasionally with 9 Hose, and sometimes with 9 Engine, in the old Fourteenth Ward. This was before he sold grates to Charles O’Conor’s father, to John A. Dix and Horace F. Clark, with a soapstone and grate factory in Elizabeth street and an office in Broome street. Kelly was in the regular militia for a limited period. The young Irishmen of New York organized a sort of Irish legion under the name of the Emmet Guard. Kelly was instrumental in formin’ this company and voted and work for “Jim” McGrath, a great friend of his, as its first captain. McGrath in gratitude appointed Kelly his first lieutenant, and when McGrath died Kelly succeeded him as captain. And as captain he was rather of a martinet, great in orders and order and discipline and all that, but the boys liked him and obeyed him, and he brought the Emmet Guard to a high state of efficiency.
He also figured for a while as an athlete, ran several foot races and rowed some matches, but it was as an amateur actor that young John Kelly aspired for fame. In Kelly’s early days the amateurs were even more numerous comparatively and more enthusiastic than they are to-day, with this marked difference, the male amateurs were more prominent, smarter and more persistent than the female.
Now a-nights, the amateur stage, like the professional, is used as the vehicle for showin’ off women principally, men bein’ mere appendages. But forty years ago the big bugs, or the men who became big bugs, showed ‘emselves off, and female amateurs were comparatively unknown. There was a “hall” at the corner of Elm at Canal streets then, where John Kelly used to “spout Shakespeare” at nights, payin’ gladly for the proud privilege. Mr. Samuel Truesdale, Mr. Godwin, Mr Charles Place and W. E. Scott were members of the amateur dramatic club which performed here.
Kelly made a better performer than some of the rest. He had physique and lungs, and as Macduff was quite effective. He did pretty well, too, in some parts of Othello, but as Hamlet he was a dead failure. Imagine, if you have time, what John Kelly must have looked like when tryin’ to do the melancholy Dane–a Hamlet with the frame and the lungs of a butcher. And yet such is the inconsistency of human nature that John Kelly always thought, and thinks to this day, that his Hamlet was his best character.
Not even a John Kelly can always “know himself.”
[Editor’s notes: The above column was adapted (with few changes) from McLaughlin, James Fairfax. The Life and Times of John Kelly, Tribune of the People. New York: American News Company, 1885, which was published just a little before this column appeared. Dave Broderick followed the California Gold Rush to San Francisco, where he set up a political machine even more vicious and corrupt than Kelly’s Tammany Hall. Broderick rose to be a United States Senator before being killed in a duel with a pro-slavery former California Chief Justice. He was 39.]
