Lights and Shadows of New York Life Part 56

[Picture: BOAT STORES.]

The oyster boats, or boat stores, are peculiar to New York. They lie chiefly in the vicinity of Christopher street, and are sources of considerable profit to their owners. The Hay Scales are also curious objects. At the foot of Fifty-fourth street the numerous telegraph lines which connect New York with the States south of it, cross the Hudson.

They gain the Jersey sh.o.r.e in the vicinity of the Elysian Fields at Hoboken, and thence continue their way to every part of the States mentioned.

The East River front is the terminus of the ferry lines to Brooklyn, Long Island City, and Hunter's Point. The s.h.i.+pping here consists almost entirely of sailing vessels. The craft plying between New York and the New England towns have their stations here, and here also are the California clippers. The huge Indiamen lie here receiving or discharging cargo. The whole river front is covered with merchandise representing the products of every land under the sun.

The Floating Docks are among the princ.i.p.al sights of the East River, as are also the vast coal and s.h.i.+p yards. This stream will soon he spanned by an immense suspension bridge which is to connect the City Hall in New York with the City Hall in Brooklyn. The total length of the bridge and its approaches is to be 5878 feet. The bridge is to rest on cables, supported by ma.s.sive stone towers at the water's edge on each side. The span between these towers is to be 1616 feet. From each tower the flooring is to be carried a further distance of 940 feet to the land approaches. The New York approach is to be 1441 feet, and the Brooklyn approach 941 feet in length. The approaches will, in some instances, be on a level with the tops of the houses in the cities through which they pa.s.s. The total height of the bridge above the tide is to be 268 feet.

The work is now progressing rapidly, and will be completed in about three years.

Accidents are very common in every large port, but the peculiar construction of the New York ferry houses renders the number of cases of drowning doubly great. In order to guard against this, and to afford timely a.s.sistance to persons in danger of drowning, "rescue stations"

have been established along the water front of the city. There is one at each ferry house, and the others are located at the points where accidents are most likely to occur. These stations are each provided with a ladder of sufficient length to reach from the pier to the water at low tide, with hooks at one end, by means of which it is attached firmly to the pier; a boat hook fastened to a long pole; a life preserver or float, and a coil of rope. These are merely deposited in a conspicuous place. In case of accident, any one may use them for the purpose of rescuing a person in danger of drowning, but at other times it is punishable by law to interfere with them, or to remove them. The station is in charge of the policeman attached to the "beat" in which it is located, and he has the exclusive right in the absence of one of his superior officers to direct all proceedings. At the same time, he is required to comply strictly with the law regulating such service on his part, and to render every a.s.sistance in his power. The law for the government of persons using the "rescue apparatus" is posted conspicuously by the side of the implements, as are also concise and simple directions as to the best method of attempting to resuscitate drowned persons. These stations have been of the greatest use since their establishment, and reflect the highest credit upon those who originated and introduced them.

Lx.x.xIV. THE MORGUE.

There stands on the sh.o.r.e of the East River, at the foot of Twenty-sixth street, a ma.s.sive gray-stone building, known as Bellevue Hospital. Over the lowest door of the front, on the upper side of Twenty-sixth street, is a single word in gilt letters--MORGUE. This door marks the entrance to the Dead House of New York, one of the most repulsive, but most terribly fascinating places in the city. The place is named after the famous dead house of Paris, and the interior is arranged in exact imitation of it, except that it is smaller. It is a gloomy-looking place, this Morgue, and it is always crowded. Bodies found in the streets or in the harbor are brought here for identification. They are kept a certain length of time, usually from twenty-four to forty-eight hours, and if not claimed by relatives or friends, are buried at the expense of the city. Every article of clothing, every trinket, or other means of identification, found with a body, is carefully preserved, in the hope that it may lead to a discovery of the cause of the death.

The room is gloomy and cell-like in appearance. It is about twenty feet square. The floor is of brick tiles, and the walls are rough and heavy.

The apartment is divided into two unequal portions by a part.i.tion of gla.s.s and iron. The smaller portion is used by the public. The remainder is devoted to the purposes of the establishment. Back of the gla.s.s screen are four stone tables on iron frames, each with its foot towards the gla.s.s. Stretched on these are lifeless naked forms, each covered with a sheet. A stream of cold water, from a movable jet, falls over the lifeless face of each and trickles over the senseless forms, warding off decay until the last moment, in the hope that some one to whom the dead man or woman was dear in life will come and claim the body.

A vain hope, generally, for but few bodies are claimed. Nearly all go to the potter's field.

[Picture: THE MORGUE.]

A fearful company, truly, as they lie there, cold and rigid, their ghastly features lighted by the chilly gleams which fall from the windows above. Here is the body of an infant, its little life of suffering over.

It was found in an ash barrel in an alley. On the next slab is the form of a man who was evidently well to do in the world. He is a stranger to the city, the Superintendent tells you, and dropped in the streets from apoplexy. His friends will no doubt claim him before the day is over, as the articles found on his person have established his ident.i.ty. The next table contains the body of a woman. She was young and must have been fair. She was found in the river, and as there are no marks of violence on her person, the presumption is that she sought her own destruction.

"Such cases are becoming common," says the Superintendent in his matter of fact way. "They are very sad, but we see too many of them to think them romantic." A shudder comes over you as you gaze at the ghastly occupant of the last table. The dead man was evidently a gentleman, for he bears every mark of a person of good position in life. His purple, swollen features tell you plainly that he was taken from the river.

There is a deep wound in his side, and marks of violence are numerous about his head and neck. You gaze at the Superintendent inquiringly, and even that cool, clear-headed official turns a shade paler as he answers, almost under his breath, "Murdered. For his money, doubtless."

On the walls back of the tables are suspended the clothing of the unfortunates, and of others who have preceded them. Maybe some friend will come along and recognize them, and the one who has been missing will be traced to this sad place. They form a strange collection, but they speak chiefly of poverty and suffering.

The dark waters of the rivers and bay send many an inmate to this gloomy room. The harbor police, making their early morning rounds, find some dark object floating in the waters. It is scarcely light enough to distinguish it, but the men know well what it is. They are accustomed to such things. They grapple it and tow it in silent horror past the long lines of s.h.i.+pping, and pause only when the Morgue looms up coldly before them in the uncertain light of the breaking day. The still form is lifted out of the water, and carried swiftly into the gloomy building.

It is laid on the marble slab, stripped, covered with a sheet, the water is turned on, and the room is deserted and silent again.

So many come here on their way to their long homes. The average number is about two hundred per year. You can scarcely take up a city newspaper without finding one or more advertis.e.m.e.nts of persons "lost." Many of them come here. Many are never heard of again. The waters which encompa.s.s the city keep well the secrets confided to them, and neither the Morgue nor the Police books can tell the fate of all the missing.

Strangers visiting the city often venture into the chosen haunts of crime "to see the sights," and in so doing place themselves in the power of the most desperate and reckless villains. Human life is held so cheap here, and murder has become such a profession, that no respectable person is safe who ventures into these localities. You may often see at the Morgue, where the majority of the bodies show marks of violence, the lifeless forms of those who but a few days before left their pleasant homes in other portions of the country to see the metropolis. A visit to a concert saloon or a dance house, merely from what they consider the most innocent curiosity, has sealed their doom. A gla.s.s of drugged liquor has destroyed their power of self-protection, and even without this they have been a.s.saulted. They are helpless, and they have paid with their lives the price of their "innocent curiosity." Then the River and the Morgue complete the story; or perhaps the River keeps its secret, and the dead man's name goes down on the long list of the missing.

Strangers, and all others who would see New York, should content themselves with its innocent sights and amus.e.m.e.nts. Those who seek to pa.s.s beneath the shadow willfully take their lives in their hands.

Lx.x.xV. THE CUSTOM HOUSE.

The Custom House is one of the most prominent and interesting places in New York. It is one of the largest in the country, and is provided with every facility for the prompt despatch of the vast business transacted in it. Five-sixths of all the duties on imports collected in the United States are received here.

The Custom House building was formerly the Merchants' Exchange. It is one of the handsomest structures in the city, and its purchase cost the General Government one million of dollars in gold. The building is constructed of solid granite, with a fine portico and colonnade in front.

If is fire-proof throughout. It occupies the entire block bounded by Wall street, Exchange Place, William street, and Hanover street. Its dimensions are a depth of two hundred feet, a frontage of one hundred and forty-four feet, and a rear breadth of one hundred and seventy-one feet.

The top of the central dome is one hundred and twenty-four feet from the ground. The main entrance is on Wall street, but there are entrances on every side. The Rotunda occupies the s.p.a.ce beneath the central dome, and is one of the finest interiors in the country.

Within the Rotunda are arranged rows of desks, running parallel with the walls. These are occupied by four "deputy collectors," three "chief clerks," five "entry clerks," two "bond clerks," the "foreign clearance clerk" and his a.s.sistant, and by those whose duties bring them most commonly in contact with the merchants, s.h.i.+ppers, commanders of vessels, etc., in the ordinary routine of the business of the port. The Collector and the higher officials have handsome offices in other parts of the building.

[Picture: THE CUSTOM HOUSE.]

There are about 1100 clerks attached to the Custom House, whose total wages amount to about $3,000,000 per annum. The legal salary of the Collector is $6000 per annum, but his fees and perquisites make up an actual income of five or six times that amount. The Collectors.h.i.+p of this port is the best paying office within the gift of the Government.

Colonel Thorpe thus sums up the duties of the various officers of the port:

"The Collector shall receive all reports, manifests, and doc.u.ments to be made or exhibited on the entry of any s.h.i.+p or vessel; shall record, on books to be kept for that purpose, all manifests; shall receive the entries of all s.h.i.+ps or vessels, and of the goods, wares, and merchandise imported in them; shall estimate the amount of the duties payable thereupon, indorsing said amount on the respective entries; shall receive all moneys paid for duties, and take all bonds for securing the payment thereof; shall, with the approbation of the Secretary of the Treasury, employ proper personages--weighers, gaugers, measurers, and inspectors--at the port within his district.

"The Naval Officer shall receive _copies_ of all manifests and entries; shall estimate the duties on all goods, wares, and merchandise subject to duty (and no duties shall be received without such estimate), and shall keep a separate record thereof; and shall _countersign_ all permits, clearances, certificates, debentures, and other doc.u.ments granted by the Collector. He shall also examine the Collector's abstract of duties, his accounts, receipts, bonds, and expenditures, and, if found correct, shall certify the same.

"The Surveyor shall superintend and direct all inspectors, weighers, measurers, and gaugers; shall visit and inspect the s.h.i.+ps and vessels; shall return in writing every morning to the Collector the name and nationality of all vessels which shall have arrived from foreign ports; shall examine all goods, wares, and merchandise imported, to see that they agree with the inspector's return; and shall see that all goods intended for exportation correspond with the entries, and permits granted therefor; and the said Surveyor shall, in all cases, be subject to the Collector.

"The Appraisers' department is simply for the purpose of deciding the market values and dutiable character of all goods imported, so that the imposts can be laid with correctness. Other than this, it has no connection with the Custom House."

There is located at the Battery, an old white building, surmounted by a light tower. This is the Barge office, and is the headquarters of the Inspectors attached to the Surveyor's office, who are under the orders of Mr. John L. Van Buskirk, now nearly 89 years of age, and who has been "a.s.sistant to the surveyor" for many years. The arrivals of all s.h.i.+ps are reported from the telegraph station at Sandy Hook, and as soon as it is announced at the barge office that a steamer or s.h.i.+p "from foreign ports" is off soundings, two Inspectors are placed on a revenue cutter, and sent down to take charge of the arriving vessel. From the moment they set foot on the vessel's deck, they are in supreme control of the cargo and pa.s.sengers. One would think from the manner in which many of them conduct themselves toward pa.s.sengers, that an American citizen coming home from abroad has no rights but such as the Inspector chooses to accord him. Certainly the joy which an American feels in returning to his own home is very effectually dampened by the contrast which he is compelled to draw between the courtesy and fairness of the customs officials of European lands, and the insolence and brutality of those into whose clutches he falls upon entering the port of New York. The Inspectors examine the baggage of the cabin pa.s.sengers, collect the imposts on dutiable articles, and send them ash.o.r.e. They then send the steerage pa.s.sengers to Castle Garden where they are examined. After this, the s.h.i.+p is allowed to go alongside of her pier, where her cargo is discharged under their inspection, and carted to the Bonded Warehouses of the United States, for apprais.e.m.e.nt and collection of duties.

Pa.s.sing goods through the Custom House is a troublesome and intricate undertaking, and most merchants employ a Broker to perform that duty for them. A novice might spend hours in wandering about the labyrinths of the huge building, trying to find the proper officials. The broker knows every nook and corner in the establishment, and where to find the proper men, and moreover manages to secure the good will of the officials so that he is never kept waiting, but is given every facility for the despatch of his business. The fee for "pa.s.sing an entry" is five dollars. Sometimes a broker will pa.s.s fifty different entries in a single day, thus earning $250. Some brokers make handsome fortunes in their business. When there is a dispute between the government and the importer as to the value of the goods or the amount of the duty, the broker's work is tedious and slow. The large importing houses have their regular brokers at stated salaries.

Lx.x.xVI. MISSING.

It is a common and almost meaningless remark, that one has to be careful to avoid being lost in New York, but the words "Lost in New York" have a deeper meaning than the thoughtless speakers imagine. If the curious would know the full force of these words, let them go to the Police Headquarters, in Mulberry street, and ask for the "Bureau for the Recovery of Lost Persons." The records of this bureau abound in stories of mystery, of sorrow, and of crime.

As many as seven hundred people have been reported as "lost," to this bureau, in a single year, and it is believed that this does not include all the disappearances. Many of those so reported are found, as in the cases of old persons and children, but many disappear forever. Others who are recovered by their friends are never reported as found to the bureau, and consequently remain on its books as missing.

When a person is reported "Missing" to this bureau, a description of the age, height, figure, whiskers, if any, color of eyes, dress, hair, the place where last seen, the habits and disposition of the person, is given to the official in charge, who enters it in the register. When the returns of the Morgue, which are sent to the Police authorities every twenty-four hours, are received, they are compared with the descriptions in the register, and in this way bodies are often identified. Five or six hundred cards with the description of the missing person are printed, and sent to the various police precincts, with orders to the commanding officers to make a vigilant search for the person so described.

Advertis.e.m.e.nts are also inserted in the newspapers describing the missing ones. Many of the estrays are children, and these are usually recovered within twenty-four hours. These little ones usually fall directly into the hands of the police, and are taken at once to the station house. If not claimed there, they are sent at nightfall to Police Headquarters, where they are cared for until their friends come for them.

[Picture: THE FATE OF HUNDREDS OF YOUNG MEN.]

Many of the missing are men--strangers to the city. They have come here on business or for pleasure, and have undertaken to see the sights of New York. They have drowned their senses in liquor, and have fallen into the hands of the thieves and murderers, who are ever on the watch for such as they. They have been robbed and murdered, thrown into the river, from which they sometimes find their way to the Morgue. Or perhaps they have followed some street walker to her den, there to fall victims to the knife or club of her accomplice. The river is close at hand, and it hides its secrets well. Year after year the same thing goes on, and men pay with their lives the price of their impure curiosity. The street walker still finds her victim ready to follow her to her den, for "he knoweth not that the dead are there: and that her guests are in the depths of h.e.l.l. He goeth after her straightway, as an ox goeth to the slaughter, or as a fool to the correction of the stocks. Till a dart strike through his liver, and knoweth not that it is for his life. She hath cast down many wounded; yea, many strong men have been slain by her.

Her house is the way to h.e.l.l, going down to the chambers of death."

Year after year the waters cast up their dead, and the Morgue is filled with those who are known to the police as "missing." Men and women, the victims of the a.s.sa.s.sin, and those who are tired of life, find their way to the ghastly tables of the dead house; but they are not all. There are long rows of names in the dreary register of the police against which the entry "found" is never written. What has become of them, whether they are living or dead, no one knows. They were "lost in New York," and they are practically dead to those interested in knowing their fate. Year after year the sad list lengthens.

In many a far off home there is mourning for some loved one. Years have pa.s.sed away since the sorrow came upon these mourners, but the cloud still hangs over them. Their loved one was "lost in New York." That is all they know--all they will ever know.

Footnotes.