“I see you have been tellin’ us about all the old hotels of New York, Harry,” said a friend of mine, the other night, alludin’ to some “old hotel” chapters in these reminiscences. “But I haven’t done anythin’ of the kind,” I replied, and I haven’t; for there were a lot of old hotels and taverns in old New York, some of ‘em quite famous and fashionable in their time, of which I have haven’t yet written anythin’.
There was, for instance, the City Tavern, which stood on the corner of Coenties lane, near Coenties slip (now on Pearl Street), in the rear of which establishment ran old Stone street. This original City Tavern was quite a fine structure–three stories high, built of first-class stone, with an observatory and weathercock on top.
Here the coastin’ vessels’ crews and captains used to stop, on their voyages between New England and Virginia, and have high old times.
Its landlord, Philip Garretson, is entitled to the distinction of bein’ the first regular hotel, or tavern-keeper, who ever did business in New York.
The next tavern-keeper in New York of any account was a good-lookin’ and smart woman called Madam Ferrari. Then came Cornelius Bradford and Thomas Strachan.
Then came John Hyde, who kept the original Tontine, corner of Wall and Water streets.
A second City Tavern was started at the corner of Thomas street and Broadway, which had a rival in Smith’s Tavern, in Water street near Wall. Smith kept two taverns–one in Philadelphia; but the City Tavern had a big “dancin’ hall” which neither of Smith’s two taverns had.
George Burns later on kept a tavern on Broadway, which got to be quite popular with ladies as well as gentlemen. A Mrs. Steele kept another Tavern near this, while the old Vauxhall was at the foot of Warren street, overlookin’ the Hudson River.
Old Jacob Pozer kept “the Philadelphia stage house” near the Battery, from which stages for Philadelphia started, with great fuss, twice a week. Later on William Hall kept a stage house on Cortlandt street, from which stages started twice a week for Boston, makin’ the trip in six days.
Old David Grim kept a queer sort of tavern in Chapel street at the time called “The Three Tuns.” David wasn’t at all a grim, but was very fond of reminiscence. He used to talk about “the good old times” that came before his time.
Part of old Tammany Hall, on Frankford and Nassau streets, was “run” as a hotel by William B. Cozzens. Here Hallock, Drake, Paulding, Mitchell and other smart men and writers used to meet, and talk, and smoke, and drink, and do everything but write. The New York Gazette people used to make this place their headquarters.
Old Tammany Hall in Cozzens’ time was famous for its tip-top “porter,” which was the favorite tipple of the “Bucktails.” Riker, Long and lots of “old rounders” of that time used to “have a swig” at this porter all day and all night.
Later on the old Franklin House was started where the Western Union buildin’ now stands. A man called Treadwell kept this place, and kept it well. He had excellent cooks. His noonday dinner was a big thing. The big bugs downtown all tried it, and the politicians from Albany, when in New York, dined there. There was a little “Dey Street House” started in opposition to it, on the principle that however good a dinner may be, it is possible to get up a better one.
Near these hotels, on Broadway, just below Cortlandt street, there stood a little house, very Quiet but cozy lookin’, which never put any signs out or never made any show, but which got to be known all over New York City and all over New York State for its game dinners, of which it made a “specialty.” The venison, grouse and prairie hens served here were too good to talk about, as a man who had been eatin’ there for years once remarked. This place also became a sort of headquarters for visitors from Buffalo. This was because it was kept by a man from Buffalo–a man who had quite a sad history. He had been “a splendid fellow” in his day, but had got into trouble–more through other people’s fault than his own; and, in an evil hour, committed forgery to get out of his scrapes; had been caught, tried, convicted and punished; then he came to New York and made a livin’ by gettin’ up these game dinners.
This man, to who I think I have previously alluded incidentally elsewhere, was called Benjamin Rathbun, and deserved what he received, public sympathy and private money.
He had a sad face and wore a white cravat, so he was generally taken for a very pious clergyman. He afterwards moved uptown and kept a family hotel near the reservoir somewhere.
Rathbun’s game dinners were as popular in their time as Pete Bayard’s turtle soup had been before ‘em. Pete Bayard’s place was in old State street, and although “way down town” even then, was frequented by fashionable people who knew what was what, and would go anywhere to get it. Ladies used to send their coachmen with their butlers in their carriages to get Pete’s soup, and sometimes eight or ten carriages would be waitin’ in line to get there rations to take home. Pete Bayard’s clam chowders were also famous; so were his fish chowders; so were his pickled oysters.
By the by, though I have often mentioned the City Hotel (on the site of the present Boreal buildin’) the great hotel of its time, I have never told the story of the big fire which took place at it. This is quite interestin’. This fire happened when old Wenman was a prominent member of the old volunteer fire department, and he figured at it. Durin’ the fire, Mr. Austin M. Baldwin, a clerk of the lottery policy dealer, a highly respected citizen, and several others got on to the roof of the burnin’ hotel and came mighty near never gettin’ down again, bein’ hemmed in by the flames. But a brave fireman named Maverick got hold of the a flag staff, fastened a rope to the top of the flag staff and then lifted up the flag staff. Wenman caught hold of the rope thus lifted him and one by one let the other men down by it, cooly and calmly, as if it was all a joke, not a matter of life and death. Ex-Alderman Day also did good service at this fire. Altogether it was a good piece of work and everybody behaved splendidly. One old gent on the roof thought his time had come and that he was goin’ to burn sure. So he politely took off his hat to the horrified spectators and waved ‘em all a last farewell. But the brave old beau was saved with the rest.
[Editor’s notes: The main source for the above column appears to be a book: Sexagenarian, A. New York City: It’s Ancient Taverns and Modern Hotels, 1884. A much more complete book appeared in 1915: Bayles, William Harrison, Old Taverns of New York.]
