Kenneth R. Cobb
The 1890 Police Census–Digitized
NYC Municipal Archives
It’s Presidents Day
Sarah Cuk
Digitizing the David N. Dinkins Mayoral ...
Kenneth Cobb
Displaced Persons
Pauline Toole
Historical Anniversaries

Find of the Week

This week, For the Record, revives the “Find of the Week” feature to highlight something surprising, exceptional, unusual, or unexpected in Municipal Archives or Library collections. 

Recently, while bar-coding containers in the Municipal Archives, archivist Katie Ehrlich noticed a box labeled “Department of Parks & Recreation – Artifacts.” She discovered it held about three dozen envelopes containing an eclectic assortment of ephemera. Paperwork appended to the envelopes indicated the contents had been separated from the Department of Parks & Recreation General Files series. In accordance with standard archival practice, photographs, over-size, and other non-paper materials are separated from paper correspondence files and re-housed appropriately.

“Junior Fisherman,” badge, 1959, Department of Parks & Recreation General Files Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

The Parks Department series had been transferred to the Municipal Archives in 1984 from a Parks Department storage facility beneath the 79th Street Boat Basin along the Henry Hudson Parkway in Manhattan. Archivists processed the collection in the late 1980s and since then this rich collection has served countless research projects.

Here are two items found in the “Artifacts” box. Look for future For the Record posts that highlight other finds.  In the meantime, readers can ponder what circumstances would result in an “Official Three Stooges Fan Club Franchise” certificate filed in Parks Department correspondence.

Three Stooges Official Fan Club Franchise Certificate, 1960, Department of Parks & Recreation General Files Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Theatre Matron Permits

On September 13, 1936, residents and passersby on Third Avenue near 103rd Street in Manhattan witnessed the dramatic, but orderly, evacuation of 400 children from the Eagle Moving Picture Theater where there was a fire. Contemporary newspaper accounts of the emergency noted that Miss Mary McCord, “a matron licensed by the Health Department,” had escorted the children to safety.   

Theatre Matron License Application, Mary McCord, 1936. Theatre Matron License Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Later that year, McCord received a special commendation from Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia at City Hall.  The New York Times reported LaGuardia’s remarks at the December 23rd ceremony: “I’m particularly pleased that in the first emergency arising in the administration of the law providing for the supervision of children in a theatre, that you were the supervision provided by the law. . . . You justified the sponsorship of this law and in administering it you typified the woman with the ability to take care of such situations.” (December 24, 1936.)    

Reading about this event today might prompt a question about what matrons did an who they were.  Is there possible documentation in the Municipal Archives about the matrons “licensed by the Health Department.” Regular followers of For the Record will know that the answer is yes, and this week’s article will highlight the recently indexed “Theatre Matron Permit” collection.

The provenance of the collection dates to State legislation passed in 1937 that required motion picture theaters to provide special seating sections exclusively for children, and mandated supervision by licensed matrons. The legislation arose from earlier laws that prohibited children under the age of 16 from entering a theater without an accompanying adult.

Theatre Matron License Application, Lillie Dawkins, 1946. Theatre Matron License Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

The subject files in the Mayor LaGuardia collection provide a context for research about children in theaters. In January 1935 the Bronx County Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children reported to the Mayor that several theaters “permit children to congregate around the cashier’s booth and ask patrons to buy tickets for them and take them in.”  Contemporary newspaper accounts further illustrate the situation. On January 7, 1936, the New York Times quoted Harry Brandt, president of the Independent Theatre Owners Association of New York:  “The present law makes a beggar of a child who has money to pay his way in, but lacks a proper guardian,” he said. “Their practice of waylaying adults near the box-office and asking them to buy their tickets has its evils.” The Times story continued with an additional quote from a spokesman for the RKO chain, “Anything that would improve the present condition of bootlegging minors into theatres would be welcome.” 

Mayor LaGuardia’s papers also include a letter from Police Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine, dated February 19, 1935, to the New York Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. Commenting on the proposed legislation, Valentine supported a suggestion that “A competent person, preferably a women, should be assigned for such supervision [of children in theaters], and should not have charge of more than 40 children.”

The legislation was enacted, and the City’s Health Department was charged with licensing the matrons prior to their employment by theaters. The Health Department devised a form recording the applicant’s name, home address and years lived there; date and place of birth; marital status and name of husband (if married or widowed); names and ages of children; places, dates, and other information regarding past employment; level of education; a brief physical description; and general health questions. Each application also includes the name and location of the theater, and a small passport-sized black and white photograph of the applicant. Many files also contain physical exam reports.

The Municipal Archives Theatre Matron Permit collection consists of the original applications filed and approved by the Board of Health. There are about 4,000 records in the series. They date from 1936 to 1949, and the total quantity of the series is 35 cubic feet.  In the late 1960s, New York City ended the requirement that theaters hire matrons. The Municipal Archives accessioned the Theatre Matron Permit collection from Department of Health in 1990. 

Theatre Matron License Application, Diana Tompkins, 1936. Theatre Matron License Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

“Mother Gives Birth to Girl at Boro Movie,” read the Brooklyn Citizen newspaper headline on April 3, 1940. “Child weighed six pounds eight ounces born in office of theatre.”  The story went on to describe how the “… young mother had gone to the Alba late in the afternoon and watching “The Fighting 69th “with James Cagney, when she found it necessary to ask for help. Mrs. Diana Tompkins, theatre matron, and Max Scheiring, assistant manager, helped her to the office, police were notified, and an ambulance was summoned from Beth Moses Hospital.

And then there is Marguerite Girardot. A 1940 profile published in the Brooklyn Eagle described Girardot as a “… suffragette, civic and social worker and charter member of the 16th A.D. [Assembly District] Democratic Organization.”  The story noted that “at a time in life when most people take it easy, Girardot is employed as a movie theatre matron …”  The story continued, “For 12 years she has held this position in Century’s Triangle Theatre, Kings Highway and E. 12th Street. ‘And I’ve never been late for work once!,’ she stated with pride.”

Theatre Matron License Application, Marguerite Girardot, 1936. Theatre Matron License Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

While the daily routine of the many hundreds of theatre matrons may not have been as dramatic as that of Diana Tompkins or Mary McCord, the information about their lives as documented in the Theatre Matron Permits collection is a unique treasure. Genealogists will discover a wealth of data, and a photograph, of their ancestors. Historian will use the demographic information about the women’s occupations, birth places, education and family relationships as a valuable resource for topics such as the Great Migration, and the educational and employment opportunities (or lack thereof) for women. 

Future digitization of this series will expand access to the series. The finding guide, and series inventory is available in the Municipal Archives online Collection Guide.    

Honoring Miriam Friedlander

Council member Miriam Friedlander, undated portrait. Miriam Friedlander Photograph Collection. NYC Municipal Archives

In celebration of Women’s History Month, the NYC Department of Records and Information Services recently presented a panel discussion honoring the life and legacy of former Council member and trailblazer Miriam Friedlander. Panelists included Miriam’s close friends and colleagues Tommy Loeb, Lisa Kaplan, Frieda Bradlow and Margarita Lopez. Commissioner Pauline Toole moderated the discussion that highlighted Friedlander’s lasting impact on NYC municipal government and local communities.

The program took place on the evening of March 16, 2023, in the public reading room at DORIS’ 31 Chambers Street headquarters. 

Miriam Sigel Friedlander was born in Pittsburg, in April 1914, and moved with her family to the Bronx and then Manhattan. Her brother Paul Sigel died in 1938 fighting for the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War. She married Mark E. Friedlander in 1939. Ms. Friedlander studied at New York University, and in 1973 she won a seat on the City Council representing the Second Council District, which then included Stuyvesant Town, SoHo, Chinatown, the East Village and the Lower East Side.

Miriam Friedlander and constituents, ca. 1980. Miriam Friedlander Photograph Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

During her nearly two decades on the City Council, Ms. Friedlander advanced the diverse and sometimes conflicting reform and leftist traditions of her district. In 1974 she urged the Council to change what members of the Council should be called noting that four of the 43 members are women: “We can no longer go along with the concept of Councilman.” Eventually the Council agreed to change the designation from Councilman to Council Member. Ms. Friedlander’s advocacy on behalf of women, tenants, and the LGBTQ community were hallmarks of her service on the City Council. She was narrowly defeated in 1991. She died on October 4, 2009, in Manhattan, at age 95.

The Municipal Archives collection also includes film and video of Miriam Friedlander participating in televised Channel L programs, accessible at Manhattan at Large: Honoring Miriam Friedlander.

Left to right: Carol Greitzer, Alair Townsend, Carolyn Maloney, Miriam Friedlander. Miriam Friedlander Photograph Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Miriam Friedlander with constituents in the Chinatown neighborhood, ca. 1975. Miriam Friedlander Photograph Collection. NYC Municipal Archives

Bella Abzug and Miriam Friedlander, 1974. Miriam Friedlander Photograph Collection. NYC Municipal Archives

Mayor David N. Dinkins greets Miriam Friedlander, City Hall, 1990. Miriam Friedlander Photograph Collection. NYC Municipal Archives

Preserving Mali’s Motion Picture Film Heritage

In November 2022, the New York City Municipal Archives hosted two visitors from Mali as part of a United States State Department grant meant to aid the development of a Malian national film archive at the Centre National de la Cinématographie du Mali (CNCM). Written by the non-profit group XFR Collective, this grant funded Malian filmmaker Alassane Poudjougou and Professor Bouna Cherif Fofana of the CNCM’s trip to learn about archival standards in film and tape preservation by touring facilities in the City of New York, including Columbia University, the Museum of Modern Art and New York University. At the Municipal Archives, they cleaned, repaired and digitized some films they brought with them that featured post-colonial life in Mali in the 1960s and ‘70s. With thousands of films like these discovered in the 1990s by Professor Fofana, the Municipal Archives recognizes that sharing the lessons and processes that we have learned could help them preserve their historic record.

Alassane Poudjougou inspects the NYC Muncipal Archives film scanner while Professor Bouna Cherif Fofana takes pictures.

For generations, the Empire of Mali was the thriving, preeminent power in Western Africa and its most famous ruler was Mansa Musa in the 14th century, possibly the wealthiest man to ever live. But in 1672, weakened by internal divisions, the Malian Empire succumbed to invasion by the neighboring Bemana Empire, splitting Mali into smaller kingdoms. By the end of the 19th century, France had established a colonial government, forcibly relocating thousands in the hopes of turning the area into a cotton growing powerhouse to rival India.

The end of French colonial rule in 1960 brought freedom to the inhabitants of the new Republic of Mali, as well as new connections with the Soviet Union and the adoption of socialist policies under President Modibo Keïta. Keïta was overthrown in a military coup in 1968, when Lt. Moussa Traoré took over as head of a military dictatorship until calls for democracy in the 1990s grew strong enough to force reforms. The first peaceful transition took place in Mali in 2002 when Traoré was voted back into power after years of absence. Today, Mali is still wracked by the impact of colonialism and its legacy of division, with a civil war currently playing out between the north and south, nearly derailing this grant.

Bouna Cherif Fofana discovered thousands of films chronicling the early history of the Republic of Mali.

In the 1990s, Professor Bouna Cherif Fofana of the CNCM discovered over 2,000 films from the turbulent period of the 1960s and ‘70s, documenting the early years of post-colonial life in the Republic of Mali. However, the CNCM did not have the resources needed to preserve these films. Hearing of this situation, NYC-based artist Janet Goldner, members of the non-profit group XFR Collective (in which the author is a member) and Malian film maker Alassane Poudjougou worked together with Professor Fofana and the CNCM to apply for a U.S. State Department grant that would help them get started. Delayed by ongoing turmoil in Mali, Fofana and Poudjougou were finally able to visit the New York City Municipal Archives in November, 2022 to tour the facilities and receive essential training on moving image preservation.

Bouna Cherif Fofana and Alassane Poudjougou also got an overview of magnetic tape preservation methods

This visit was only the first leg in a long journey to establish a national film archive of Mali. In the future, Poudjougou and Fofana hope to raise funds to create a climate-controlled storage facility and a digitization lab like the one at the NYC Municipal Archives center in Industry City. However, Mali is not a wealthy nation, with 80% of the country living on less than $5.50 per day and many working in gold mines owned by international conglomerates. An upcoming documentary from Alassane Poudjougou investigates the terrible conditions Malians work in while mining gold and the litany of broken promises that foreign corporate entities have made to Mali. A film archive of Mali would not only preserve the thousands of films Professor Fofana discovered, but also new productions of Malian filmmakers like Poudjougou that expose powerful entities continuing to abuse the people of Mali.

Professor Bouna Cherif Fofana practices film inspection and cleaning methods in the Municipal Archives’ digital lab.

Since the end of French colonial rule, thousands of people from Mali have moved to New York City, home to the largest population of Malians living in the United States. Many came during the 1960s and ‘70s, escaping turmoil that some of Professor Fofana’s films may yet document. Even more came after the end of the Cold War in the 1990s when the films were first discovered. Over 20 years later, the Municipal Archives hopes that by fostering its relationship with the CNCM in Mali, we might help shed light on how the Republic of Mali came into being and how thousands of Malians also became New Yorkers.

Policewomen

The history of women in the New York City Police Department is long and heroic. Female officers had to fight for the right to stand shoulder to shoulder with their male colleagues. In honor of Women’s History Month, For the Record celebrates two trailblazers for women’s equality within the ranks of the NYPD. The story of how officers Felicia Shpritzer and Gertrude Schimmel broke through the glass ceiling by demanding the right for women to earn a promotion is one of determination and grit that still has the power to inspire more than sixty years after they took their first stand.

Brief History of Women and the NYPD

Letter from NYPD clerk to Mayor Hugh Grant, regarding Mary Dolan, May 28, 1891. Early Mayor’s Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

In 1845, at the urging of women’s social groups such as The Women’s Christian Temperance Union, the New York Police Department hired women as police matrons to improve the treatment of females and children in police custody. In 1888, State legislation permitted female police matrons to work in station houses. New York City hired the first four matrons in 1891.

By the early 1900s, some matrons were allowed to work with the detective squads and conduct undercover investigations. Unlike their male counterparts who could be promoted to the detective squad and were paid $2,500 annually, women could not advance past the matron rank, at a salary of $1,000 per year. In 1912, Isabella Goodwin, a matron for more than ten years, finally earned the title of first-grade detective after her undercover work to crack the case of Eddie “the Boob” Kinsman and the Taxi Cab Bandits. She was the first woman in the United States to hold such rank.

Unidentified plainclothes detective and Det. Isabella Goodwin, ca. 1915. NYPD Photo Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Unidentified police matron, most likely in the Women’s Motor Corp, ca. 1918. NYPD Photo Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

During World War I, the Police Department established a non-civil service Women’s Police Reserve. On May 16, 1918, nearly 5,000 volunteers arrived at Speedway Park in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, to begin their training. The Department’s 1918 annual report stated that the women were tasked with “discovering unlawful conditions, teaching patriotism and aiding in the Americanization of the alien element of our city, reporting conditions of disloyalty and sedition and aiding the weak.”

Drilling the Women’s Police Reserve for an emergency, ca. 1918. NYPD Annual Report, 1918, NYC Municipal Library.

Instructing members of the Women’s Motor Corps in the use of the fire arm, ca. 1918. NYPD Annual Report, 1918, NYC Municipal Library.

NYPD Women’s Ambulance Corps, ca. 1918. NYPD Photo Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The 1920s and '30s saw the introduction of the first Black women to the department, the formation of a short-lived Women’s Police Precinct, and later, the Women’s Bureau where most female officers would be stationed until it was abolished in 1972.

During the latter half of the 1930s, opportunities for women improved. Men and women could not train together in police academy classes until 1958, but beginning in 1934, they could participate in pistol practice with male trainees. In 1938, the Department administered the first civil-service exam for the title “Policewoman.” In addition to passing the exam, female candidates were required to hold a college degree while men only needed the exam and a high school diploma or proof of military service.

Probationary Policewomen taking oath of office at Headquarters, March 9, 1939. Municipal Archives Collection.

From left: Detective Mary Sullivan, Mayor LaGuardia, and Paul J. Kern of the Civil Service Commission watch as NYPD Commissioner Valentine addresses a room of probationary policewomen and men at headquarters, March 9, 1939. Municipal Archives Collection.

Twenty Policewomen graduates salute at City Hall Plaza (in pouring rain), April 1939. Municipal Archives Collection. Policewomen were issued a black shoulder bag filled with their gun as well as a tube of red lipstick and powder compact. (Mayor Fiorello H. La Guardia is quoted as saying “Use the gun as you would your lipstick, don’t overdo either one.”)

The Glass Ceiling Breakers

Gertrude Schimmel and Felicia Shpritzer began their training with the NYPD in 1940 and 1942, respectively, with Schimmel earning the prestigious Police Inspector’s Trophy for excellence in her class at the academy. Like most women, after graduating Schimmel and Shpritzer were assigned to the Bureau of Policewomen. In their early years with the department, both women worked in the Juvenile Aid Division, which found temporary shelter for children whose parents were unable to care for them. At that time, female officers could not be promoted above the entry-level post of policewoman, or go out on patrol; most women could expect to spend their entire career working in an office setting at the Bureau.

Swearing-in of Probationary Policewomen at Court of Peace, World’s Fair, June 1940. Municipal Archives Collection.

Mayor LaGuardia shaking hands with Probationary Policewoman Gertrude Schimmel, winner of the Chief Inspector’s Trophy, Madison Square Garden, September 26, 1940. Mayor LaGuardia Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

Female cadet demonstrating self-defense techniques at the Police Academy show at the New York World’s Fair, June 28, 1940. NYPD Photo Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Felicia Shpritzer had served almost 20 years as a policewoman in 1961 when she and five other women applied to take the promotion test for sergeant. They knew the exam was not officially open to policewomen. Two weeks before the test was held, all six women’s applications were rejected. Despite their years of service, Police Commissioner Michael J. Murphy maintained that women lacked the physical strength and endurance to be sergeants.

Shpritzer sued the city’s Department of Personnel, arguing that to deny policewomen the opportunity to become sergeants was “discriminatory, archaic and illegal.” Taking the battle all the way to the New York State Court of Appeals, Shpritzer won the case in June 1963. As a result, 126 policewomen took the sergeant’s exam for the first time in April 1964. After the exam, Policewoman Shpritzer told the New York Times, “Pass or fail, I will never regret having made the opportunity available to women.” Of the test-takers, only Shpritzer and Gertrude Schimmel passed. They became New York City’s first two female sergeants on March 13, 1965.

In their new roles, the sergeants alternated supervising about 160 policewomen. In an article titled “The Police Give In, Name Two Women Sergeants,” the New York Times quoted Commissioner Murphy as saying “This day marks a significant milestone in our department’s history—the emergence of our policewomen from our ranks. For the first time two of our policewomen will wear three stripes. We welcome them and wish them well.” The article concluded by stating that no policemen would be supervised by women.

The two women didn’t stop there. In 1966 they took and passed the lieutenant’s exam and were promoted the following year. Felicia Shpritzer would remain in the title until she retired in 1977, while Gertrude Schimmel continued to make gains for women’s equality in the NYPD. On August 26, 1971, the 51st anniversary of women’s suffrage, Gertrude Schimmel became the department’s first female captain. At her swearing-in ceremony, Schimmel stated that it was Felicia Shpritzer who won the landmark case and that she should be the one receiving the praise.

In her new position, Schimmel helped lay the groundwork for assigning women to street patrols and radio cars. Again, there was pushback on expanding the roles of female officers. This time, the Patrolmen’s Benevolent Association and wives of some officers maintained that women were not capable of providing adequate backup for their male partners. Schimmel, now in a command position would have none of it. When she spoke to the Times in November 1974, she said “nothing is factual, it’s all emotional.”

In 1978, Gertrude Schimmel was promoted to deputy chief and served as commander of the Community Affairs unit until she retired in 1981. When she left, she expressed no regrets, but did wish that she had been able to take part in the kind of police work that has become routine for women today. She said that she “never answered a call on the radio and ran up five flights of stairs and called the ambulance. When I was starting in the department, women didn’t do that. And by the time they did it, I was already promoted. I’m sorry I missed that, but you can’t have everything, right?”

Anniversary of Wall Street

The 13th of March marks another important anniversary in the history of New Amsterdam. For on March 13, 1653, less than two months after New Amsterdam formed its first municipal government, it faced an existential threat. The 1st Anglo-Dutch war had broken out in late 1652, and word had reached Governor General Petrus Stuyvesant and the council of Burgomasters and Schepens that English troops were amassing in New England for a possible overland invasion from the north. From the records of New Amsterdam:

“Upon reading the letters from the Lords Directors [of the Dutch West India Company in Amsterdam] and the last received current news from New England concerning the preparations there for either defense or attack, which is unknown to us, it is generally resolved:

First. The burghers of this City shall stand guard in full squads overnight…

Second. It is considered highly necessary, that Fort Amsterdam be repaired and strengthened.

Third. Considering said Fort Amsterdam cannot hold all the inhabitants nor defend all the houses and dwellings in the City, it is deemed necessary to surround the greater part of the City with a high stockade and a small breastwork….”[1]

From the 13th to the 19th of March 1653, they discussed the plans for defense and how to bid out the work. And on the 17th, someone, possibly even Stuyvesant himself, drew a little sketch in the margins of the court record of a cross-section of the defenses, consisting of a ditch, embankment and palisade wall. The wall built by the spring of 1653 to defend against the English would eventually give its name to Wall Street (although the Dutch called it Het Cingel, the Belt). All of this I have covered thoroughly in past blogs, but a few new questions have arisen concerning the history of the wall.

Court minutes from March 17th, 1653. The sketch of the wall is in the margin in the middle. Records of New Amsterdam, NYC Municipal Archives.

Diagram of the proposed wall from the Court Minutes of New Amsterdam, March 17, 1653. Records of New Amsterdam, NYC Municipal Archives.

The exterior has an embankment and a ditch, and the line projecting from the top of the wall may be a fraise, small sharp sticks to impede scaling the wall. The Dutch reads: “9 feet above ground, 3 feet in ground.” One dot = one foot. In the end a palisade proved too costly, and they used slats across posts set 15 feet apart.

A recent Bowery Boys podcast about the wall kindly directed listeners to my earlier blogs. However, one part of the story intrigued/stumped me. They reference an earlier wall built in 1644 near the end of Governor Kieft’s war with the native tribes. Was it possible that the wall really was built to defend against attacks by the natives and not the English? This blog explores that possibility and raises new avenues for exploration. The language quoted in these records obviously reflects the viewpoints of the Dutch colonial government. The Municipal Archives plans to add new content to New Amsterdam Stories by 2024 describing colonization from the perspectives of the original Munsee Lenape inhabitants and enslaved peoples to coincide with the 400th anniversary of Dutch settlement on Manhattan. These long over-due stories were originally planned when the website was launched, but the relocation of our offsite collections and COVID disrupted these plans.

The source for the 1644 wall claim is a Curbed New York article that references an article in Harper’s magazine “The Story of a Street,” from 1908, by Frederick Trevor Hill. In it, Hill wrote that on March 31, 1644, Kieft ordered a barrier to keep in stray cattle and defend against Native Americans. Hill was a lawyer and historian, and his enjoyable, but rather fanciful, article does get some things right, like this footnote:

“About this time (1655-6) the residents of Pearl Street, inconvenienced by the high tides, caused a sea wall to be erected, and the space between this barrier and their houses to be filled in, making a roadway known as De Waal, or Lang de Waal. Incautious investigators have confused this with Wall Street, and their error has resulted in some astonishing ‘history.’”

Very true. Since he was correct about this, his 1644 claim bears investigating. For the original source we need to go to records in the New York State Archives:

“31st of March [1644]

Whereas, the Indians, our enemies, daily commit much damage, both to men and cattle, and it is to be apprehended that all of the remaining cattle when it is driven out will be destroyed by them, and many Christians who daily might go out to look up the cattle will lose their lives; therefore, the director and council have resolved to construct a fence, palisade, or enclosure, beginning from the great bouwery to Emmanuel’s plantation. Everyone who owns cattle and shall desire to have them pastured within this enclosure is notified to repair there with tools next Monday morning, being the 4th of April, at 7 o’clock, in order to assist in constructing the said fence and in default thereof he shall be deprived of pasturing his cattle within the said enclosure.”[2]

Already the claim starts to fall apart, as what is described is a cattle pen not a defensive wall. The main concern seems to be that cattle would wander up-island when put out to pasture, which was dangerous for the cattle and for colonists who were in the woods looking for them. Earlier records scold colonists for letting their cattle trample the maize fields, which caused conflict with the Lenape and hurt the supply of grain for the colonists. Incidentally, the next two passages in the state records are notices of the peace treaties signaling the end of the war.

So not a wall, but where was this cattle fence? Hill thought it ran from “William Street… to what is now Broadway, and possibly from shore to shore, marked the farthest limits of New Amsterdam, as it then existed, and practically determined the location of Wall Street.”[3] Hill then went on to colorfully describe Stuyvesant in 1653 “stumping along the line of Kieft’s old cattle guard, seeking an advantageous location for the Palisade…” and placing it “some forty or fifty feet south of the old barrier and practically parallel to it….”[4]

Map of the Original Grants of village lots from the Dutch West India Company to the inhabitants of New-Amsterdam, (now New-York), lying below the present line of Wall Street, grants commencing A.D. 1642. Map created by Henry Dunreath Tyler, ca. 1897. Courtesy New York Public Library. Hill may have seen this map produced 10 years before his article, for he thought the cattle enclosure started east of the Sheep Pasture, and extended to Broadway, but there are no patentees on this map named Emmanuel.

Was this really the correct location? According to the original 1644 records, the enclosure was to run from “the great bouwery to Emmanuel’s Plantation.” Bouwerie is Dutch for farm, and the street now named Bowery was indeed the road that led to tracts of Dutch farmland. The “Great Bouwery” most likely referred to the large tract of Company farmland that ran from Bowery Street to the East River, later to become Stuyvesant’s farm, but all these large farms were north of present-day Worth Street. And where was Emmanuel’s Plantation? Historian I.N. Stokes identified Emmanuel as Emmanuel Pietersen. No map shows the exact location of his farm, but Stokes notes that Emmanuel was previously known as Manuel Minuit, perhaps because he had been enslaved by Pieter Minuit, founder of New Amsterdam.[5]

The large Dutch farms were located east of Bowery [the dashed line from point 4 to 16] in what would now be the East Village and Lower East Side. The “Great Bouwery” is number 1 on the map just above #16 (the Brewery). The key says “No1 Comp Bouwery met Een Traffelleyck Huys” [Company’s Bouwery with an excellent house]. Eventually this would become Stuyvesant’s farm. The farms given to freed Blacks in 1644 likely stretched from numbers 9 to 10 on this map. Jan Pietersen’s Plantation (#9) was just above Spring Street near Minetta Creek. It is possible Emmanuel had worked this land and was given the northern portion. Manatus Map [detail], 1639. Courtesy Library of Congress.

Key to the Manatus Map, 1639. Courtesy Library of Congress.

Less than two months before the fence ordinance, on February 25th, 1644, the Dutch West India Company resolved the petition of ten enslaved men who were demanding their freedom. They were granted conditional freedom for themselves and their wives, but not for their children who remained enslaved to the Company. The Company gave them farmland north of the town that had been abandoned by white settlers during Kieft’s war. The area became known as the Land of the Blacks, and eventually remnants of it were called Little Africa. Emmanuel was not one of the ten men, probably having gained his freedom earlier, but he would later marry Dorothy Angola, the widow of Paulo Angola, one of the ten. Together, Dorothy and Emmanuel merged their farms and successfully petitioned for the freedom of Dorothy’s adopted son Anthony in 1661.

Map of the Herring Farm from 1869. Manhattan Farm Maps, NYC Municipal Archives. The corner of the property in the middle of Washington Square Park is where the Lenape path that became Old Sand Road intersected with Minnetta Creek. Stokes says these formed the border of the cattle enclosure.

The vertical line shows the path that would become known as Bowery Road, but was originally the same up island trail that was incorporated into Broadway. The path westward to the Hudson River became known as Sand Hill Road until it crossed Minetta Creek, and still exists past that point as Greenwich Avenue. Stokes thinks the 1644 cattle fence followed this path from Bowery to Minetta Creek. These paths connected Lenape villages, farms and hunting and fishing grounds. From Indian paths in the great metropolis by Reginald Pelham Bolton, published by the New York Museum of the American Indian and Heye Foundation, 1922.

All of this is fascinating history, but is this anywhere near Wall Street? No, it is not. It is in what are now the East and West Villages. Stokes suggested the cattle fence “ran west from the Bouwery Road, along ‘the old highway’ (the Sand Hill Road), as far as Minnetta Water, where the bridge crossed the road to Sapocanikan…. Then westerly along the line between the later Warren and Herring farms to Emanuel’s land (near the corner of West Third and Macdougal Sts.).”[6] This is a bit confusing, but Sand Hill Road was an old Lenape trail that “commenced at the Bowery, and ran across that part of the city now known as Waverley Place, on the north side of Washington-Square, then Potter’s Field…”[7] The eastern bit of this road still exists at Astor Place and Greenwich Avenue preserves its western terminus. “Minnetta Water” was a fresh water stream now buried under Minetta Street. It originally flowed from around Union Square southwest to the Hudson River and would have formed a natural border for the enclosure. The line described by Stokes can be seen on a map of native trails, and on the farm map above as the northern border of Herring Farm. And lastly, Sapohanikan was a Lenape fishing settlement on the other side of Minetta. Although the Dutch had violently pushed the Lenape out by 1644, the area known as Greenwich Village (Greenwijck in the original Dutch) was still called Sapocanikan until the English colonial period.

Sanitary & Topographical Map of the City and Island of New York (1865) by Egbert Ludovicus Viele. Courtesy New York Public Library. Minetta Creek ran through Washington Square and determined the border of the Herring Farm. A remnant of Sand Hill Road can be seen above Washington Square Park and at Astor Place in this map. In 1644 ten formerly enslaved men and their wives were given land grants south of this area.

Why was Hill so convinced the location of this pasture was so much further south? Perhaps he was confused by an 1897 map showing a marshy sheep pasture within the City limits in 1642, along with the original Dutch land grants. But there are no grantees named Emmanual shown on this map, nor any great farm. The name Emmanuel or Manuel is not Dutch, but it was a common name amongst many of the early enslaved Africans in New Amsterdam, suggesting that they had been seized from Portuguese or Spanish ships or were from Portuguese colonies in West Africa. Although there were other Manuel’s recorded in 1644, all of them were part of the group of freemen given properties in the Land of the Blacks.

This finally brings us to one more recent online myth about the wall, that part of the reason for its construction was to keep out the freed black colonists north of the wall. Perhaps the origin of this concept was the close timing between the February 1644 land grants and the March 1644 “fence” construction, but as we now see not only was this 1644 project not a wall, but if Stokes is right, it also ran right across the Land of the Blacks, with most of the farmland south of the fence.

New scholarship may reveal more definitive answers, but unless new information comes to light, March 13, 1653 remains the birthday of Wall Street.

After publishing this blog another reference to the fence turned up while trying to find the location of Emmanuel’s plantation. In D.T. Valentine’s 1866 Manual of the Corporation Council, writing about the lands given to freed Blacks in 1644 he writes:

“We find, as further corroboration of the idea that the negro settlement was designed as an outpost, the fact that in the same year a great inclosure was established in the center of the negro settlements for the protection of the cattle of the whites. It had been a prominent object in the economy of the newcomers to increase the number of domestic animals, and for that purpose they were allowed to run at large through the forests covering the island, insomuch that at a much later period it is recorded that the woods were filled with animals almost as wild as when in their native condition. They were yearly driven by a grand turn-out of the cattle proprietors into an inclosure for the purpose of branding the yearlings, when they were all set loose again. The Indian troubles required more careful herding of the cattle than that alluded to, and hence, by resolution passed in the Provincial Council in 1644, it was decided that a clearing be made on Manhattan Island, extending from the Great Bowery (afterward Stuyvesant’s) to Emanuel’s plantation (Manuel the negro); and all inhabitants who wished to pasture their cattle within the clearing, to save them from the Indians, were required to appear by a certain day to assist in building a fence around the same.”

Valentine was not great in citing his research, but further evidence of the location of the 1644 cattle fence.

[1] Fernow, Berthold, The Records of New Amsterdam from 1653 to 1674, vol. 1, pp. 65-66

[2] Van Laer, Arnold J.F., New York Historical Manuscripts, Dutch, v. 4, p.216

[3] Hill, Frederick Trevor, “The Story of a Street,” Harper’s Monthly Magazine, 1908, p. 688

[4] Hill, p. 690

[5] Stokes, I.N., Iconography of Manhattan Island, v.6, p.76

[6] Stokes, v. 6, p. 76

[7] Ibid, v. 6, p. 50