The Secrets of the Great City Part 35

The engine houses are all connected with the Central Station by telegraph. They are models of neatness and convenience. The lower floor is taken up with the apparatus and the horses. The bas.e.m.e.nt is used for storing the fuel for the steamers, and also contains a furnace, by means of which the water in the engine boilers is always kept hot. The upper floor is the dormitory. The twelve men composing the company sleep here. A watch is always kept below, so that the men above, who are allowed to go to bed after ten o'clock, may be awakened without delay. Everything is neat and ready for use. It requires but fifteen seconds in the day, and one minute at night to be ready for action, and on the way to the fire.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fireman on duty.]

The men are not allowed to have any other employment to occupy their time. The department claims their whole duty. A certain number are required to be always at the engine house. In case of an alarm being sounded during the absence of a fireman from the engine house, he runs directly to the fire, where he is sure to find his company. Everything is in readiness to leave the house at a moment's notice. The horses stand ready harnessed, and are so well trained that but a few seconds suffices to attach them to the steamer. The fire needs only to be lighted in the furnace, and in a few minutes the steam gauge shows a sufficiency of power for the work to be done. Great care is taken of the horses. They are groomed every day, and carefully fed at six o'clock in the morning and at six in the evening. If not used on duty, they are exercised every day by being led to and fro through the streets in the vicinity of the engine house. They are fiery, splendid animals, and are so well trained that they will stand with perfect steadiness immediately in front of a burning building.

AT WORK.

When an alarm of fire is given, it is at once telegraphed from the nearest station to the central office, and repeated. The central office immediately strikes a gong, by telegraph, in the house of every engine which is to attend the fire. The locality, and often the precise spot of the fire can be ascertained by these signals. For instance, the bell strikes 157, thus: _one_--a pause--_five_--another pause,--and then _seven_. The indicator will show that this signal or alarm is given from the corner of the Bowery and Grand street. The fire is either at this point, or within its immediate neighborhood.

There is a gong in each engine house on which the alarm is struck from the central station. As soon as the sharp strokes give the signal of danger and point out the locality, every man springs to his post. The horses are hitched in a few seconds, the fire is lighted in the furnace, and the steamer and hose carriage start for the scene of the conflagration. The foreman runs, on foot, ahead of his steamer to clear the way, and the driver may keep up with him, but is not allowed to pa.s.s him. Only the engineer, his a.s.sistant, and the stoker, are allowed to ride on the engine. The rest of the company go on foot. Fast driving is severely punished, and racing is absolutely prohibited. The men are required to be quiet and orderly in their deportment.

Upon reaching the fire communication is made between the engine and the plug or hydrant, and the work begins. The chief engineer is required to attend all fires, and all orders proceed from him. The most rigid discipline is preserved, and the work goes on with a rapidity and precision which are in striking contrast to the inefficiency of the old system.

A force of policemen is at once sent to every fire. These stretch ropes across the street at proper distances, and no one but the members of the Fire Department, who may be known by their uniforms and badges are allowed to pa.s.s these barriers. In this way the firemen have plenty of room to work, lookers on are kept at a safe distance, and the movable property in the burning building is saved from thieves.

The life of a fireman is very arduous and dangerous, and applicants for admission into the department are required to be persons of good health and good character. The men are often called upon not only to face great personal danger, but they are also subjected to a severe physical strain from loss of rest and fatigue. For a week at a time they will be called out and worked hard every night, but all the while are required to be as prompt and active as though they had never lost a night's rest. They are constantly performing acts of personal heroism, which pa.s.s unnoticed, in the bustle and whirl of busy life around them, but which are treasured up in the heart of some grateful mother, father, wife, or husband, whose loved one has been rescued from death by the fireman's gallantry.

Nor is the gallantry all on the side of the fireman. During the past year there have been numerous instances where an intrepid policeman has n.o.bly risked his life to save some threatened fellow creature from death by fire or by drowning.

CHAPTER L.

HARRY HILL'S.

In pa.s.sing the corner of Broadway and Houston street, you will see, to the east of the great thoroughfare, an immense red and blue lantern attached to a low, dingy frame building. This is the sign of Harry Hill's dance-house. It is one of the sights, and one of the saddest sights, too, of New York. As you approach the place from Broadway, you notice a narrow door at the side of the main entrance, opening upon a flight of stairs which lead to the dancing hall. This is the private entrance for women. They are admitted free of charge as their presence is the chief attraction to the men who visit the place. Pa.s.sing through the main door you enter a room used as a bar room and eating saloon. It differs in nothing from the average low cla.s.s bar rooms of the city. A narrow pa.s.sage-way between the counters, leads to the entrance of the dancing hall, which apartment is situated on the floor above the bar room and in the rear of it. Visitors to this hall are charged an admittance fee of twenty-five cents, and are expected to order liquor or refreshments as soon as they enter.

THE PROPRIETOR.

Harry Hill is generally to be seen moving amongst his guests while the entertainment is going on. He is a short, thickset man, with a resolute, self-possessed air, and is about fifty years old. He is very decided in his manner, and is fully equal to the task of enforcing his orders. The "fancy" stand in awe of him, as they know he will follow up any command with a blow or a summary ejection from his premises. He has been in the business for twelve years, and his profits are estimated at over fifty thousand dollars a year now, clear of all expenses. He is said to be a kind, humane man, and is reputed to give largely to charitable purposes. He manages every department himself, although he has a manager to conduct affairs for him. His eye is on everybody and everything.

THE DANCE HALL.

It is Harry Hill's boast that he keeps a "respectable house." Unlike the other dance-houses of the city, there are no girls attached to this establishment. All the company, both male and female, consists of outsiders, who merely come here to spend an evening. The rules of the house are printed in rhyme, and are hung conspicuously in various parts of the hall. They are rigid, and prohibit any profane, indecent, or boisterous conduct. The most disreputable characters are to be seen in the audience, but no thieving or violence ever occurs within the hall.

Whatever happens after persons leave the hall, the proprietor allows no violation of the law within his doors.

The hall, itself, consists simply of a series of rooms, which have been "knocked into one" by the removal of the part.i.tion walls. As all of these rooms were not of the same height, the ceiling of the hall presents a curious patchwork appearance. A long counter occupies one end of the hall, at which liquors and refreshments are served. There is a stage at another side, on which low farces are performed, and a tall Punch and Judy box occupies a conspicuous position. Benches and chairs are scattered about, and a raised platform is provided for the "orchestra," which consists of a piano, violin, and a ba.s.s viol. The centre of the room is a clear s.p.a.ce, and is used for dancing. If you do not dance you must leave, unless you atone for your deficiency by a liberal expenditure of money. The amus.e.m.e.nts are coa.r.s.e and low. The songs are broad, and are full of blasphemous outbursts, which are received with shouts of delight.

THE DANCERS.

You will see all sorts of people at Harry Hill's. The women are, of course, women of the town; but they are either just entering upon their career, or still in its most prosperous phase. They are all handsomely dressed, and some of them are very pretty. Some of them have come from the better cla.s.ses of society, and have an elegance and refinement of manner and conversation, which win them many admirers in the crowd.

They drink deep and constantly during the evening. Indeed, one is surprised to see how much liquor they imbibe. The majority come here early in the evening alone, but few go away without company for the night. You do not see the same face here very long. The women cannot escape the inevitable doom of the lost sisterhood. They go down the ladder; and Harry Hill keeps his place clear of them after the first flush of their beauty and success is past. You will then find them in the Five Points and Water street h.e.l.ls.

As for the men, they represent all kinds of people and professions. You may see here men high in public life, side by side with the Five Points ruffian. Judges, lawyers, policemen off duty and in plain clothes, officers of the army and navy, merchants, bankers, editors, soldiers, sailors, clerks, and even boys, mingle here in friendly confusion. As the profits of the establishment are derived from the bar, drinking is of course encouraged, and the majority of the men are more or less drunk all the time. They spend their money freely in such a condition.

Harry Hill watches the course of affairs closely during the evening. If he knows a guest and likes him, he will take care that he is not exposed to danger, after he is too far gone in liquor to protect himself. He will either send him home, or send for his friends. If the man is a stranger, he does not interfere--only, no crime must be committed in his house. Thieves, pickpockets, burglars, roughs, and pugilists are plentifully scattered through the audience. These men are constantly on the watch for victims. It is easy for them to drug the liquor of a man they are endeavoring to secure, without the knowledge of the proprietor of the house; or, if they do not tamper with his liquor, they can persuade him to drink to excess. In either case, they lead him from the hall, under pretence of taking him home. He never sees home until they have stripped him of all his valuables. Sometimes he finds his long home, in less than an hour after leaving the hall; and the harbor police find his body floating on the tide at sunrise.

Women frequently decoy men to places where they are robbed. No crime is committed in the dance hall, but plans are laid there, victims are marked, and tracked to loss or death, and, frequently, an idle, thoughtless visit there, has been the beginning of a life of ruin. The company to be met with, is that which ought to be shunned. Visits from curiosity are dangerous. Stay away. To be found on the Devil's ground is voluntarily to surrender yourself a willing captive to him. Stay away. It is a place in which no virtuous woman is ever seen, and in which an honest man ought to be ashamed to show his face.

CHAPTER LI.

THE WICKEDEST WOMAN IN NEW YORK

We have already quoted at some length from an interesting work ent.i.tled "_Asmodeus in New York_," recently published in Paris, and we now ask the reader's attention to the following sketch of an entertainment given at the mansion of a female, whose infamous exploits as an abortionist have earned her the t.i.tle of "the wickedest woman in New York."

A BALL AT THE WICKEDEST WOMAN'S.

We entered. The lady of the house, richly attired in a silver-brocaded dress and wearing a crown of diamonds, very kindly welcomed us, thanking Asmodeus for bringing in a distinguished stranger. The introduction over, we mingled with the crowd, and went through the rooms opened to the guests, while the lady led to an adjacent room a few female friends, to show them her necklaces, rings, bracelets, and other jewels.

'American ladies,' said Asmodeus, 'avail themselves of every opportunity to exhibit their treasures, down to their silver, china, and linen. They are fond of jewels, the most showy being especially in favor. But I would not warrant that all those gems that flash in the gaslight are genuine stones. There is such a demand now for California diamonds that, very likely, many sets now adorning the wives of lucky speculators are mingled with worthless imitations. Time is necessary to learn how to distinguish precious stones from spurious ones, and few persons can devote as much leisure as did yonder Jew banker in collecting pearls, the smallest of which in his possession is worth twenty thousand dollars. He recently gave to his wife a necklace made up of twenty of such pearls, and their number increases every year.'

In the meanwhile, dancing had commenced in several s.p.a.cious rooms; in others, card-playing was being indulged in. Servants, wearing black garments and white neckties, were busy carrying refreshments around.

Many persons, preferring the pleasure of eating to those of playing or dancing, were seated in another room at a table loaded with meats and delicacies. Next to this, another room, elegantly furnished, was crowded with young and old men, indulging in smoking. Boxes of cigars were piled up on elegant _etageres_; and I noticed that many a smoker, besides the cigar he was smoking, filled his pockets with that luxury.

While going through the several rooms opened to the public, Asmodeus called my attention to their costly furniture. Some of these rooms were lined with fine _brocatelle_, imported from France, Italy, China, and j.a.pan, the latter conspicuous for their fantastical drawing and patterns; others with Persian and Indian cloths; and the several pieces of furniture were of unexceptionable taste. Some were inlaid with gold, bronze, or china; some were made up of rosewood, artistically carved.

Gems of art and curiosities of every description were displayed upon _etageres_; and through the house, made bright as day by hundreds of gaslights, one walked on soft, smooth carpets of the best manufactures of Europe. They alone were worth a fortune.

Amazed at such luxury, exceeding that of many a patrician family in Europe, I thought our Amphitryon was either one of those wealthy merchants whose s.h.i.+ps carry the American flag over the broad ocean, or those manufacturers who build up enormous fortunes at the expense of the public.

'You are mistaken,' said Asmodeus. 'We will call, by and by, on one of those merchant-princes you allude to. For the present we are in the house of one of Juno's priestesses. You are aware, Juno was called Lucina when she superintended the birth of children. But the lady who has welcomed us so kindly is far from a.s.sisting in the birth of children; her calling, on the contrary, is to prevent it; she practices infanticide every day, and it is by carrying on this business she has obtained the wealth she is making so great a display of. Every one of those window-shades, so nicely arranged to ward off the rays of the sun, cost one thousand dollars. They were painted by our best artists, none of them having declined to display his talents for the benefit of Madame Killer--such is the name of the owner of this splendid residence. As there are thirty windows, you may easily figure up the cost of those gorgeous shades. That of all the furniture is in the same proportion: every piece of it, I dare say, has been purchased with the money received for the murder of a child.'

Bewildered at these revelations, I thought Asmodeus was deceiving me.

He quietly continued:

'That stout gentleman, going from one to another, and making himself affable with everybody, who looks like a good-natured person, and whose unctuous manners remind one of a clergyman, is the husband of Madame Killer. He is an accomplished scholar, and has obtained his diploma from one of our best medical colleges. He might have obtained a competency by honest practice. But when Madame Killer, already enriched through her nefarious business, hinted that she was disposed to marry him, Bungling eagerly took the hint, and espoused this abortionist.

'Of course, after the marriage, Madame Killer retained her own name, as it was already a notorious one. Love, you may be sure, had nothing to do with this matrimonial transaction. Madame Killer married Bungling because his science might be of some service in many delicate circ.u.mstances--in about the same way a merchant takes in a partner when he has too much to do. The couple have been uniformly prosperous since they married, about ten years ago. True, they had two or three unpleasant misunderstandings with the police, on account of a few poor creatures dying of ill-treatment at their hands; but they came out of all of them triumphantly.'

'Must I infer from this that the laws of America do not punish infanticide?' said I, 'that fearful crime of getting rid of children before or after their natural birth. Even the unfortunate who stakes her life to conceal the consequences of a fault, is amenable to law; she is punished for child-murder, as well as her accomplice, in every civilized country.'

'By and by,' answered Asmodeus, 'I will explain that subject to you. I will content myself, for the present, by saying that the laws of America are no less severe than those of Europe, as regards the crimes of infanticide and abortion. But in such cases, as well as in many others, the law often remains a dead letter.'

I longed to depart from the house. I fancied, after Asmodeus's frightful revelations, the very air we breathed was impregnated with deadly miasma. Dancing had been interrupted for awhile; and in a hall, connected with a conservatory, filled with rare and odoriferous plants, a concert was beginning. Every note from a sonorous piano sounded in my ear like the wailing of one of those poor little beings the Amphitryons had brought to an untimely death. And then, of what character were those women, crowding the rooms, in spite of the crumpling of their splendid dresses? Who were those men, who had either accompanied or were courting them?

'You are quite mistaken,' said Asmodeus, 'if you believe we are in the midst of a mixed crowd, such as that denominated the _demi-monde_ in the French capital, and not tolerated, as yet, at private receptions here, or at places of public resort. To be sure, what is called the social evil unfortunately exists in New York, as in the large cities of Europe; but it keeps aloof from decent society. It is true, that such is the discretion of corrupt females, it is often impossible to distinguish an honest woman from one who has lost her chast.i.ty. Of course I do not speak of those creatures so deeply fallen into habits of corruption, that they shrink no longer from exhibiting their degradation. Perhaps we shall have an opportunity of visiting the backgrounds of our civilization, where those wretched creatures live.

For the present, I must set you right concerning the standing in society of the guests of this house.

'Most of those men, who so often appreciate the good things served around by the waiters, are wealthy merchants, lawyers, and physicians.

I even recognize among them a few magistrates and legislators. They have accompanied their wives; and some, even, have brought their daughters to this dreadful house, where some unfortunate woman is, perhaps, dying in the upper story, and paying with her life the violation of nature's laws. Some guests have come through curiosity, attracted by the splendors of a residence opened for the first time to the gaze of strangers. Others have availed themselves of the opportunity of gayly spending here a few idle hours, and do not trouble themselves with the Amphitryons' respectability. Lastly, many guests did not deem it safe to decline Madame Killer's invitation; for that Thug of society holds in her hands the honor of hundreds of families, and it would be dangerous to arouse her resentment. A single word from her lips, some well-concocted story, would bring on awful scandals. She could, for instance, apprise yonder husband, so attentive to his wife, that the latter, during the two years he has served his country abroad, has applied to Madame Killer's art to remove the consequences of an adulterous intrigue. That young man, who has just inherited a large estate, and seems so much enamoured of that light-haired young lady, might learn, tomorrow morning, through an anonymous letter, that the fair beauty, instead of spending, as he believes she did, the summer months in the country, had secreted herself in Madame Killer's hospitable house.

'Undoubtedly, the dread of some awful revelation has brought here many persons, as out of five hundred invited guests only a few do not attend Madame Killer's _soiree_. But I am far from believing that they would not have come, under any circ.u.mstances, even had they been free from fear of personal consequences. Madame Killer is wealthy, and n.o.body cares about the way she has obtained her wealth. Whoever is worth one million dollars, no matter how acquired, honestly or dishonestly, is welcome everywhere, and his _soirees_ and receptions are attended by the best society. I see, for instance, talking with Madame Killer, a merchandise broker, whose name was given to a s.h.i.+p launched this very morning, and who would be shut out of decent society in any other country. Three years ago, he failed to the amount of two or three millions of dollars. According to his balance-sheet, he could pay fifty cents on the dollar. But, when his book-keeper joyfully informed his employer of such an unexpected result, "Change it, by all means,"