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1994.MEMORIES OF
EARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO
By SYLVESTER J. MATHEWSMEMORIES OF
EARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO
By SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS* 1
Buffalo in 1838 was a city of “magnificent^ ?) distances.”
The speculative bubbles that had been blown during the
previous decade had been bursted as in a single night by
the panic of ’37.	Building enterprises of every kind were
at a standstill, real estate in great quantities had been thrown
into chancery and much more tied up in various ways of
litigation, rendering it unavailable for new enterprises that
subsequently started up in the ’4o’s, and in some instances
even into the ’50’s.
Vast tracts of land within the city limits were held by
Eastern capitalists for speculation. Notable among them
1. The author of these reminiscences was bom in Auburn, N. Y., where he
is now residing, in hale old age. In response to a request from the editor of
this volume, for facts about himself, Mr. Mathews writes that after removal,
with his father’s family, to Utica in 1833, and to Ithaca in 1835, he came to
Buffalo in 1837. Here he was “a little Sunday-school scholar in the Old First
Presbyterian Church basement Sunday-school room, with entrance on Pearl
street.” “The old-time Sunday-school picnics to the old Indian Mission Church
of the Senecas, four miles away, were great events in our youthful days. v Later
I was a pupil of Dr. Chambers’ private school in the basement of the Unitarian
Church, corner of Franklin and Eagle streets.” He recalls his schoolmates,
among them Julia Dean, the actress. He was fond of sketching, and used to
make excursions with “Al” (the Rev. Albert) Bigelow “on the old Black Rock
horse-ferry boat to Fort Erie for sketches of the picturesque ruins. He remem-
bers the steamboat Caroline, and many stirring episodes of the Patriot War
of ,37*,8. He was for a time in the employ of Hall & Mooney, printers and
lithographers, and during the period about which most of his reminiscences clus-
ter, he lived at the corner of Court and Pearl streets.
193194
SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS
was that strip of barren plain qi a quarter of a mile and
over in width that extended for a mile and a half east from
near Niagara street and away over the Cheektowaga town
line. Washington, Ellicott,* Oak, Elm, Michigan and other
streets north from Genesee street, which crossed -this young
Siberia on paper, without even- a fence, tree or house to
mark their passage across were left unimproved until late
in the ’4o’s, excepting their continuations over the hill north
across High, North, Goodrich and other streets in the
Cold Spring district.
Consequently the march of improvement came not from
the old center and spreading out into the suburbs, but it
came rolling in down Niagara street at the north from
“over the hills from the poor-house,, in Black Rock, down
Main from the country-seats of Cold Spring, up Genesee
from the plains of Cheektowaga in the east, up Batavia
(now Broadway), from the Prussian settlements beyond
the hemlock woods, up Swan and Seneca, from the Hydrau-
lics, and across the flats from Bidwell & Banta’s shipyards
in the south.
Along the docks the commercial spirit was as buoyant as
ever, for the long heads then in possession were conscious
of the fact that they held the keys^of the “Gate City” of the
Lakes, and were putting their houses, boats and docks in
order for the fast-incoming tide of emigration that was to
seek an entrance through Buffalo to the great Northwest.
The all-the-year-round business of Buffalo was at that
time mostly done on Main street, between the canal bridge,
just below the Mansion House, and up to Genesee street in
fronts that are now covered by about 400 numbers. Be-
tween the canal and. harbor were the wholesale dealers,
storage and forwarders, lumber yards, boiler shops, foun-
dries, machine shops, soap and candle factories, shipEARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
195
chandlery and sail lofts, sailor boarding-houses, boat re-
pairing shops, etc.
Architecturally speaking, the style of buildings at that
period was somewhat mixed. Beginning with the old red
warehouse at the foot of Main street, on which was painted
in big white letters “E. W. Munger, Ship Chandlery, Storage
and Forwarding,” and passing up were to be noted some
very loud examples of old-time boss carpenters’ designing.
Across the street, at the junction of Ohio street, was a block
of three-story brick buildings, extending up to Washington
street, with a frontage on the dock and also on Ohio street,
which went by the name of Ohio Buildings, in which was a
little of everything. On the opposite corner was a jumble
of one and two-stqry wood buildings on the site of which
was subsequently erected the Commercial Hotel.1 A little
further up to the left George B. Walbridge & Co. had lately
erected a fine large four-story lemon-colored front, whole-
sale grocery house and were doing the big grocery business
of the town. This building was burned one night during the
late ’4o’s, when young Calvin Bishop, one of the clerks
sleeping there, lost his life. All that was ever found of
him, after a search of nearly a week, was a small charred
mass containing his heart.
Just above the Walbridge store was the cream-colored
front, two-story brick hotel, the Ohio House, with an im-
mense burnished tin-top dome, large enough for a good-sized
capitol building—presumably planned to hold all the guests
at one time and give them a good view of the lake. Its
usefulness as a point of observation was brought to an
end by the erection of the lofty walls of the . Walbridge
building.
i. See Publications, Buf. Hist. Soc’yf Vol. XVI, p. 55, for a picture of
this hotel. Several other old-time buildings mentioned by Mr. Mathews are
illustrated in that volunje.196
SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS
Old lake men used to say that when coming dowil the
lake on a clear day, the first object sighted in Buffalo was
the old hotel dome, glistening like a huge diamond, 20 miles
away.
At the east side of Main street at the corner of Perry
street stood a little white tavern with no name and ap-
parently no proprietor, but always doing a big three-cent bar
trade. On the opposite corner commenced that monotonous
stretch of four-story brick fronts of 22 stores, called the
‘‘Webster Block,” that had lately been erected. In about
the middle of the block, projected from over the eaves a
mammoth gold anvil, swinging and glistening in the sun, a
conspicuous object from far up Main. “Thompson Bros.’
Wholesale Hardware,” was the legend.
STEAMBOAT ART.
Two or three doors above, covering two windows of the
second story, was a huge framed oil painting of the new
and splendid steamboat Buffalo rounding the light-house
pier with colors flying, and plowing through the little white-
caps like a duck; it made a very breezy and attractive
picture. Accompanying signs showed that here the Miller
Brothers held forth with their paraphernalia for “House,
sign, ornamental and steamboat painting,” and stained glass
work in great variety. These Millers were artists or
artistically inclined artisans, especially I. C., whose “sig.”
as “del.” appeared upon nearly all the lithographs of Hall
& Mooney’s handsome steamboat plates (every crack boat
in those days had a cut of its) own, for posters), and occa-
sionally on the fine wood cuts with J. W. Orr, and later
Richardson as “Eng.” which made them famous, they being
eventually gathered into citizenship by New-Yorkers, who
appreciated Buffalo fine-art work. The Millers, however,EARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
197
were “in to stay.” The rivalry among steamboat men and
the inauguration of lavish display in cabin ornamental work
by the Reed line of steamers soon “had ’em all in for it,”
and nearly every steamer of any pretensions built at other
lake ports had to be run down to Buffalo for the Millers to
put on the finishing touches. Along in the ’40’s it was as
good as a visit to a fine-art gallery to go through the cabins
of the first-class steamers, of which some days there were
five or six at a time in port.
The appropriateness of designs for the names of the
steamers was observable in the burning prairie scenes for
the Buffalo; Mississippi and Missouri views for the St.
Louis; Rocky Mountain and Pacific coast views for the
Oregon; Hudson-river scenery for the Hendrick Hudson;
Oriental scenery for the Sutland, and old-time Indian and
Dutch for the Albany; north European for the Baltic;
Canadian lake, river, city and Indian for the Canada;
Niagara Falls and river views for the Niagara; and so
along, until the new era in railroads, which necessitated the
conversion of our fleet of floating palaces into propellers,
barques, barges, etc., and made a revolution in the style and
finish for the new comers.
On the west side of Main street, near Lloyd, in a two-
story wooden block, with a big oval black sign, with gold
letters, set on top of a big square post in country-inn
fashion, was our clerical-looking friend, William Madison,
with white neckerchief and ruddy face, who, from early
morn till late at night, was ready and willing to serve all
who wished to patronize the only Temperance House then
in Buffalo.
Across the way, between the north end of the Webster
Block and the canal, was a two-story white tavern with
quite a frontage, called Huff’s Hotel, seemingly quite198	SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS
liberally patronized, so much so as to warrant the building
of a large brick four-story addition the following year.
Landlord Huff was one of the pleasantest spoken of men,
yet there was a peculiarity of speech which to many seemed
to be a little Huffy.
On the west, beginning at the canal, was a long row of
buildings extending around the corner into Commercial
street, covering the site of what subsequently became
Spaulding’s Exchange. This locality during the ^o’s en-
joyed the best all-the-year-round trade in the city. The
variety of small stores attracted the boatmen and emigrants
in the summer and farmers, boatbuilders and repairers in
the winter.	4
On the corner of Main and Exchange streets was the
old Mansion House, rightly named, for directly opposite,
fronting on Exchange street, was the Le Couteulx mansion,
a spacious brick .house, embowered in the old-time regula-
tion locust, sumach, lilac, snowball and thrifty peach and
other fruit trees in great variety, in a well-laid-out garden,
abounding with peonies, lilies, roses, honeysuckles, white
strawberry beds, spearmint, summer savory, sage and other
medicinal and culinary herbs, with vegetables in abundance
and, in fact, most everything raised in an old-fashioned
garden. The high retaining walls made necessary by the
cutting down of Main, Exchange and Washington streets,
with which it was bounded, made this a most conspicuous
and attractive point for the eyes of the traveler and in a
measure contributed to the popularity of the hotel, from
the windows and three-story all-around piazzas of which
the guests were wont to enjoy the view.
The landlord was the portly, genial embodiment of a
man, Philip Dorsheimer, then the most influential man
among our German citizens, and very popular with the bestEARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.	199
classes of Buffalonians. Subsequently the old building was
torn down and the present Mansion House, five stories at
first, but now six, erected in its place.
THE OLD TERRACE MARKET.
Opposite, on the west side of Main street, was the grand
opening, called The Terrace, upon which had lately been
erected between Pearl and Commercial streets in conspicu-
ous shape, quite a stately two-story brick market-house and
city building, in the basement of which was the vegetable
market stall, and in the Pearl-street end, the watch-house
“lock-up coops.” In those days there were no policemen
and in times of disturbance it was “run down to the watch-
house and get a constable,” in the day-time, and in the night
“call one of the watchmen off the street.” They used to
walk. in. pairs, wearing big leather fire hats with “City
Watchman” painted on the fore-piece, and carried big canes
or dog-killers and dark lanterns. Capt. Sam Fursman was
the man who filled the position of what is now called’ chief
of police.
On the first floor, approached by high wooden steps,
down which’ more than one butcher, beef and all, came
tumbling, were the meat stalls or market proper, where
nearly all of the leading butchers had a stand. Overhead
in the second story at the east end was the Common Council
chamber, a rather commodious, high-ceiling room, in which
presided as Mayor Hiram Pratt, then serving his first term
of one year. In those days1 mayors were elected for a year
only. Theodotus Burwell was the City Attorney, T. C.
Peters, City Clerk, and Oliver G. Steele, Superintendent of
Common Schools. Several of the city officials had offices
in the building, and in the north end was subsequently the
- i. i838-’9.200
SYLVESTER J, MATHEWS
city library. Rising from the center roof was a large square
white tower like a cupola, on the top of which was placed
during this year of Patriot troubles an alarm bell of silver
tone, which rang out its peals of alarm one cold moonlight
night and set in motion that mass of floodwood militia that
had been called in from the surrounding towns and lay
buried up under piles of hay and straw in the big blue “B.
Rathbun Warehouse” on the Ship Canal Slip east of Erie
street. Owing to mysterious movements of the British
across the river, and the fact that the Patriots had taken
possession of Navy Island, our military authorities, pro-
fessing to believe that there was a probability of invasion,
had summoned these men without providing for their
proper quartering as they arrived in squads, companies and
battalions, many without arms.
Hardly had the work of organization begun before the
sound of distant cannonading started the rumor that the
British were crossing. Then began that weird-like march
down Niagara street. Men wrapped up in bed-blankets,
horse blankets of all colors, quilts, buffalo robes and green
baize by the yard, kept step to the tap of the heavy bass
drum; the plaintive pealing of the solitary bell and distant
booming of cannon made a night of scenes and sounds not
easily forgotten by many yet living who passed through that
eventful night. After arriving at Black Rock our militia
found it to be a false alarm, caused by the British shelling
the woods of Navy Island and the crossing of the Patriots
to this side where they disbanded.
The open space around the market building was assigned
to farmers’ wagons, fish carts, poultry coops, Indian ponies,
potato wagons, German cabbage carts, etc.
Finding ourselves at the corner of the Terrace and Main
street we sniff the savory odor of roast clams, broiledEARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
201
chicken, Welsh rarebits, etc., issuing from over the top of
the lowered sash of the basement recess with wide descend-
ing steps that led you down into a room with a bar in front.
Along the north side of the wall was a row of box stalls
with blind doors, with a bench-like table and cushioned
benches, roomy enough for four, and in a rush, or for a
private party, six could squeeze in and be served at short
notice with cooked-to-order dishes. There was the begin-
ning of what for the next three decades flourished under
the name of “Terrapin Lunch,” a recess (so-called in those
days), saloon and restaurant later, and finally Terrapin
Dining-rooms. From the shores of the Kennebec to the
Pacific has the name of this old feedery become famous,
especially so with many an old soldier, for there was where
they took their last social meal with some departed friend
before going to the front.
BOAT-BUILDING ON THE CONJOCKETY.
Few of the old-time Buffalo boys who were wont to
wander down Niagara street to lower Black Rock for a
stroll and fish along the banks of the Scajaquada creek up
to its crossing with Main street, above Cold Spring, can
scarcely recognize the once rushing, wide-awake stream in
the dammed sleepy waters of the miniature lake at the
Park.
The fishing in those days in the old creek was remark-
able for the uniformity of size of the perch that ran up
from Black Rock harbor and were found in the deep holes
along the banks of the creek. Being ready biters at the
worm, a two-foot twig was often filled with fish in a short
time.
In those days of few refrigerators many an “early
catch” found an appreciative buyer (at one shilling a twig202
SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS
of a dozen fat, crimson-fin perch), among the residents* of
upper Main, Pearl, Franklin and Delaware streets. ’
Here onthe banks of this unpretentious little stream was
fought the battle of Black Rock on and near the bridge at
its mouth, where it emptied into Niagara river. Out of
the ravine to the east, through which flowed the crystal
waters, emerged, just before the battle, that famous sur-
prise party—Capt. Jack Richardson’s Cayuga-county rifle-
men, which gave the name erroneously as “Morgan’s rifle-
men,” to the hastily summoned crowd of militia with
muskets and shot-guns.	*	\
These men from Auburn and Aurelius with their left-
over tactics of ’76 did the effective work of the day and
caused the helter-skelter tumbling backwards into the
British boats and a suspension of further efforts to making
*
a landing for some time after.
Here on the banks of this then called Conjockety creek
a part of Commodore Perry’s fleet was fitted out under the
superintendence of Henry Eckford, afterwards renowned
at home and abroad as a naval constructor.
Here also in 1818 was built the first steamboat to sail
the upper lakes, a low-pressure, 338-ton vessel, which was
wrecked Nov. 1, 1821, near the foot of Michigan street.
The old shipyard soon after became one of the noted
ship-building centers of the West, producing much'of the
shipping of the lakes, and, later, many of the primitive boats
of the Erie Canal.
In 1825 two more steamboats were built, the Pioneer,
high-pressure, 120 tonsi, and the Henry Clay, low-pressure,
300 tons. In 1826 was built the Niagara. In 1833 began
the era of experimental steamboat building from original
designs by amateur steamboat men, the accommodating
proprietors of the yard simply suggesting “we’ve got theEARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
203
yard and you’ve got the money; we’ll build anything you
order. Let’s go ahead and have no two boats alike.”
In this year they brought out the Daniel Webster, a low-
pressure 358-ton vessel with the loftiest gallows frame ever
before or since seen on a boat of her size. At the same
time they built the far-famed nondescript called the New-
York, a sight to behold and a noise to be heard. Think of a
vessel of only 325 tons with two fully-developed high-
pressure engines; two “regular snorters” of puff-pipes and
four big black smoke-stacks; two fore and aft masts; two
men and a relief man at the tiller; each engine, and one
wheel acting independently, the whole combination sailing
away to the tune of “Swiftly Glides the Bonnie Boat,” with
the running gait of a clipped-wing chicken.
These two models of naval construction never had their
record for speed broken except by the Charles Townsend,
another low-pressure, 312-ton experimental failure, built
at Buffalo in 1835, with ^er vei7 wide, short, dumpy, gal-
lons frame and three-abreast red smoke-stacks, with most
excruciating appearance; and the United States (iron)
revenue cutter Dallas, 370 tons, Capt. Ottinger command-
ing, built tiy the Government at Buffalo in 1846.
These two last-named vessels .have been known with
wind astern in still waters to make their four miles an hour!
After a checkered career of less than a decade the New-
York and Daniel Webster were partially dismantled and
towed down to Black Rock harbor and moored off Squaw
Island near natal waters to spend their last days. During ,
the decade between 1845-55, the village of Black Rock, with
its long line of dilapidated stores and dwellings crowned '
with the old Breckenridge-church steeple and an occasional
tall poplar high up along the banks, and the weather-beaten
warehouses along shore, together with the score of played-204
SYLVESTER /. MATHEWS
out steamboats owned at this end of the lake that had been
towed down to rot in the waters of this immense marine
boneyard, presented from the decks of passing- river-
boats, a most picturesque and decidedly antiquated appear-
ance.
In continuation of the record of Black Rock-built
steamers, was another boat for 1833, the very trim sailor
Gov. Marcy, 161 tons, low-pressure engine. The Gen.
Porter was added in 1834, low-pressure, 352 tons, very
comely and fair of speed. In 1837, the keel of the last of
the large boats to be built at this yard was laid, the very
creditable and long-lived steamer New-England, low-
pressure, 416 tons.
About these times the shipyard of Bidwell & Banta at
Buffalo, having begun to reach mammoth proportions, the
business at the old yard began to wane, and, with the ex-
ception of the Waterloo for the Niagara Falls route, a low-
pressure boat of 98 tons in 1840; the little pleasure-steamer
George W. Clinton, 19 tons, in 1842; and the Black Rock
ferry-boat Union, high-pressure, 64 tons, in 1843, steam-
boat building ended at Conjockety Creek.
THE REAL SHIPS OF THE LAKES.
It may be news to many of the lakers of today, but
nevertheless it is a fact, that but two full-rigged ships from
“stem to stern” ever sailed the waters of the great lakes
above Niagara Falls.
There have been barques, three-masted vessels, square
rigged in part, that were often mistaken for ships. But
the first and nearest approach to a ship on these waters was
the “big ship” of the British fleet at the Battle of Lake
Erie, a 250-ton barque, called the Detroit, a very conspicu-
ous object in the maneuvers of the British fleet.EARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
205
This1 vessel along in the ’40s was sold at Erie as con-
demned material and fell into the hands of a company who
put aboard of her a bear, deer, wild cat, and other animals
and towed her down the Chippewa to be sent over the
falls, a drawing card for thousands who “went down to
see.” The old craft lodged above in the rapids and failed
to go over until she broke up.1
The first ship of the fresh water seas was built at Buffalo
in 1836 by Col. Alanson Palmer on a carte blanche order to
build a 300-ton ship and make her as beautiful as money
could do it and keep the name a secret, which was done
until he broke a bottle of champagne over the bow with,
“Ladies and gentlemen, I propose to call the gallant craft
after my beloved wife, Julia Palmer,” amid the booming of
a cannon and the ringing of a score of steamboat bells along
the docks.
And beautiful she was, the pride of old harbor-mem as
she used to round the light house pier with “Old Glory” in
immense folds floating out behind her gaff with Julia’s
figurehead-bust gorgeously set in scrolls and cornucopia
work on the bow.
The next was the ship Milwaukie of 400 tons, built at
White Haven in 1837 and calculated more for service than
for show.
These two ships after a couple of seasons were found
not to pay, requiring too big crews for the amount of ton-
nage covered, and that the agile “fore and afters” were
taking the wind out of all other kind of sailing craft even
to the displacement of quite a fleet of brigs that had been
put in commission. The subsequent steamers Julia Palmer
1. The attempt to send the Detroit over Niagara Falls was on Sept. 15,
1841. See Publications, Buf. Hist. Soc’y? Vol, VIII, pp. 402-3, where the facts
are given.206
SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS
and Milwaukie were remodellings of these ships and wore
themselves out at a profit to their owners.1
In* the person of Alanson Palmer in his prime, Buffalo
had a man that was leaven in almost any enterprise that he
became interested in. Like A. T. Stewart he had a penchant
for an assortment most novel in his holdings from the patent
♦
of the first successful cracker machine to a Point Abino
wind mill. In the County Clerk's office the records show
him to have been for a brief period the owner of the old
American Hotel property, the finest of the period at that
time in Western New York. He also had a second-hand
church (the old Baptist) ' that he was concerned in the
remodelling over into the high-stoop old postoffice building
across the front of which appeared that big gilt sign, “O.
H. Dibble, Post Office." He was a man of commanding
presence and under the folds of a long, heavy black broad-
cloth cloak as he passed by throwing to his right and the
left his pleasant “good morning" or “good evening, sir,"
made his mark. He preferred to walk and talk in place of
hide and ride in his gilded coach to and from his castelated
mansion on Tupper near Main street. Perhaps for a
decade or more, the name of the Buffalonian most fre-
quently down on subscription papers for sums to make
most pleasant reading, was that of Alanson Palmer.
HIRAM CHAMBERS, SCHOOLMASTER.
There are a few old-time residents who can stand in
front of the City Hall and look diagonally across to the
Eagle-street corner, bringing to view the familiar outlines
of. the fine cut-stone front and classical pediment of the old
Unitarian Church (now the Austin building, No. no
i. Capt. E. P. Dorr, in his “History of Our Lake Commerce,” says that
the Superior was a ship, “altered from a steamer.”EARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
207
Franklin street), in the basement of which along in the late
’30’s and early ’40’s was a door adjoining the-Sunday school
room on the Eagle street §ide, on which was a little black
tin sign bearing in lettered gilt the legend “Hiram Chambers,
Select School.” *
Over the threshold of the aforesaid door passed, to take
their seats in the spacious square room, some forty or
more girls and boys of Niagara Square and adjacent streets.
The girls when seated at their desks, faced the west wall,
the boys the east wall, and the primary; “kids” the north
wall, the whole forming a hollow square in the center of
which, in a revolving-seated arm-chair, sat (when not
tipping around with cat-like tread in white stockings and
morocco pumps, with a six-foot rattan in hand) the pre-
siding genius.
Our most worthy tutor, the originator and sole manipu-
lator of this institution, was a conspicuous figure on the
street as he passed by with his ruffled shirt-bosom, Roman
nose, rosy cheeks and laughing eyes, tapping the bricks
with his ivory-headed Perry’s Flagship timber-relic cane,
presenting a most genteel walking “ad” for his profession,
very taking, especially with prospective applicants for
tuition.
At recess (a liberal twenty minutes) the boys betook
themselves to the old burying-ground across the way, that
occupied the whole block, now City Hall site, with the
exception of the Franklin-street side which was built upon.
Here with the standing admonition, “Don’t play tag among
the grave stones, nor run upon the walls” (substantially
built of brick with broad stone copings), the use of the
grounds for open-air recreation was tolerated.
Over on the west side, under an immense forest tree left
standing by the early axmen, near the Delaware-street side,208
SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS
was a long table-like tombstone which the embryo orators
improvised as a rostrum, and were wont to declaim there-
from their “spreadeagleisms,” and eulogies on our mar-
tyred heroes, one of whom lay beneath the marble slab that
bore the following inscription:
“Here lies the body of Major William Howe
Cuyler of Palmyra, N. Y., who was killed at Black
Rock by a cannon ball from the enemy on the night of
August ioth, 1812.”
This was followed to a conclusion by many lines of
eulogistic chiseling.
During the general disinterment of human remains in
this cemetery along in the ’50’s this stone, and the remains
of Major Cuyler, were taken to Palmyra, to rest with
kindred dust after over thirty years of veneration among
strangers.
Major Cuyler was principal aide to Major General Amos
Hall, and was riding along the beach at full speed, carrying
a lantern, engaged in procuring relief for the wounded,
when he was struck by a round shot and instantly
killed.1
1. There are numerous accounts, some of them by eye-witnesses, of the
death of this popular young officer. Gen. Asa Warren, whose reminiscences are
printed in volume V of these Publications, says: “I saw [on the New York shore
opposite the British batteries] .	.	. Major William Howe Cuyler, aide to
Maj. Gen. Hall, commanding officer at Buffalo. At the sound of the firing he
had mounted his horse and rode down the river with a lighted lantern in his
hand, as 1 was told, and when in range of their guns was shot through the body,
and his wrist was broken by grape shot. Thus fell the accomplished gentleman,
the brave and valiant officer.” A despatch dated ‘‘Canandaigua, Oct. 13,
[1812],” giving details of the affair, said: “Among the killed, we lament to
number Major Cuyler. .	.	. He was approaching the beach on horseback
when a grape shot, from the British battery, cut off his hand, entered his ab-
domen and came out near the backbone. He instantly fell.” Lossing states
(“Field Book of the War of 1812”) that “his body was carried by Capt. Benja-
min Bidwejl and others to the house of Nathaniel Sill.” Among the many
tributes to his memory, printed at the time, the following, reminiscent of Gray’s
“Elegy,” appeared in the War, a newspaper published in New York by Samuel
Woodworth (author of “The Old Oaken Bucket”), Nov. 21, 1812. It is hereEARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
209
He was buried with public honors, an oration being
delivered by J. E. Chaplin, Esq. The affair seems to have
created a deep impression upon the community, the Buffalo
Gazette printing a part of Mr. Chaplin’s oration.
The girls for their airing took a more conspicuous but
ever pleasant spot, the high front stone steps of the church,
with their elaborate and highly ornamental iron railings
flanked with filigree lamp posts. Here, after school, for a
quarter of an hour, both sexes would circle around that
little queen, Miss Julia Dean, who lived around the corner
(her father the then manager of the old Eagle-street
Theater), and Mary Monteath, another magnet. Now
Mary had a pack of cards, and the whole school used to go
printed because it is the only poem known to have been inspired by the old
Franklin Square burial ground. Mr. Mathews’ narrative shows that, at a later
date, his grave was marked with an inscribed stone:
To the Memory of Maj. Cuyler.
Born in the reach of splendor, pomp and power, .
He spurned at honors unattained by worth,
And fostering freedom, in a glorious hour,
Preferred her cause to all the pride of birth.
In Freedom’s virtuous cause alert he rose,
In Freedom’s virtuous cause undaunted bled.
He died for Freedom ’mid a host of foes,
And found on Erie’s beach an honor’d bed.
But where, Oh! where the hallow’d sod,
Beneath whose verd the hero’s ashes sleep?
Is this the cold, neglected, mouldering clod,
Or that the grave at which I ought to weep?
Why rises not some massy pillar high
To grace a name that fought for Freedom’s prize?
Or why, at least, some rudely etch’d stone nigh,
To show the spot where matchless valor lies?
Yet soldier, thy illustrious name is known,
Thy fame supported and thy worth confess’d,
That peerless virtue, which in danger shone,
Is shining still, when thou art laid in rest.
And, though no monumental scrip is seen,
Thy deeds to publish and thy worth proclaim,
Each son of Freedom, passing near this green,
Shall hail brave Cuyler, and revere has name.
D. B. V.210
SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS
to them who alternately shuffled and dealt out fate to a
most attentive and admiring circle.1
It is not within the memory of the writer whether it
was foretold that Julia herself would become one of the
leading ladies of the American stage, and Mary, one of
the leading ladies in society and philanthropic work. Nor
that of the boys, Millard Powers Fillmore would live to be
the son of a President of the United States; that “Al”
Bigelow would be an artist, poet and preacher; that “Steve”
Caldwell would be one of the leading spirits among railroad
and lake men, and autocrat of a vast commercial territory,
assisted by his brother Seth; that “Hank” Faxon of the
Faxon boys (Len and Charley) would be locally famous as
editor and publisher; that “Fred,” “Ed” and “Bill” of the
Mayhew brothers, and the Burt boys were to be dealers-
out of money by the millions; that “Al,” of the Sprague
boys1 would shortly die a sudden death, and later George
i. It may be permissible to recall here something of that loved and lovely
personality, Julia Dean, the most famous actress that Buffalo can claim as her
own. She was born in 1830 in Dutchess Co., at the home of her grandfather,
Samuel Drake, who reared her until she was ten. In 1840 she came to> Buffalo
to live with her stepfather, Edwin Dean, senior member of the firm of Dean &
McKinney, managers of the Eagle street theater. Here she spent her school
days, of which Mr. Mathews writes; and here she began her stage career, her
first appearance being on short notice, to fill the place of an actress who was
unable to appear. Ini 1846, being then but 16 years old, she made her New
York debut at the old Bowery Theatre. For nearly a decade she ployed with
great success. In March, 1855, she married Dr. Hayne of Charleston, S. C.,
son of Robert Y. Hayne. She continued to act, after her marriage, but her
popularity waned. The marriage was unhappy, and a few years later she pro-
cured a divorce. Later, in New York, she married James G. Cooper. If one
may judge from her portrait, and from what was said of her, more than sixty
years ago, she was versatile and intelligent, and possessed of charm, rather than
beauty. During one Buffalo engagement, in the fall of 1847, she played, among
other parts, that of Bianca, in “Fasio, or the Italian Wife,” Margaret Elmore in
“Love’s Sacrifice,” Mrs. Haller in “The Stranger,” Lucretia in “Lucretia Bor-
gia,” Ion in the classical tragedy of that name, and others, some of them in
plays long forgotten. The local press, perhaps not discriminating in its criti-
cism of am obvious favorite, was wont to call her “ardent,” “impulsive,” “dash-
ing,” and the like. A role in which she won high praise, at a later period,
when her powers were more matured, was Julia in “The Hunchback.” She ap-
peared in that character with William J. Florence as Lord Tinsel, in a notable
New York engagement in 1852.JULIA DEAN.
BORN 1830, DIED 1868. FROM A PHOTOGRAPH IN THE POSSESSION OF THE BUFFALO
HISTORICAL SOCIETY, TAKEN IN SAN FRANCISCO ABOUT 1865.EARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
211
would be found dead on Grand Island from the careless
handling of his gun; that the Thayer boys, Sage brothers
and others were to leave their bright marks in the army
and navy, and various other walks of life.
Almost contemporary with Mr. Chambers, was P. G.
Cook, fondly known to a passing generation as Chaplain
Cook, who was successfully conducting a select school in
the then lately abandoned Benjamin Rathbun bank build-
ing on Eagle street near Main.
Along in the ^o’s the Public School system of the State
having been reorganized and commodious school houses
built for each district, and a higher grade of teachers
employed in the larger towns, the select schools, of which
there were several in Buffalo, seemed to fall into disfavor,
many of the oldtime tutors becoming public-school teachers
and the scholars becoming attendants thereof.
After the erection of the colonnaded-front school house
No. 8 on Church street, with Professor Brown- as principal,
the disbandment of Chambers’ and other select schools in
the vicinity took place and later we find our respected old
tutor installed as principal in the new and handsome Vine-
street schoolhouse, where after years of service he retired,
to again hang out his sign- in the lower part of the city,
this time as “Doctor Hiram Chambers.”
“ONE-LEGGED HARRISON.”
In the old village and young city days of Buffalo, a lost
child meant to the parents a season of dread uncertainty
and a heart full of misgivings which were in most cases
protracted owing to the custom of taking in and caring for
the waif until the appearance of the “town crier,” who, at
that time was a colored man by the name of James, or,
“One-legged Harrison,” he having lost his right leg close212
SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS
up to the body. This man, with his crutch, was conceded to
be one of the best all-round athletes (in his way) and cer-
tainly the best horseback rider in town, and were he around
with his feats of agility in these days, would have attracted
the attention of Buffalo Bill and be one of the leading at-
tractions.
How many of the then “little tots” now living can re-
member when in their little beds as “snug as bugs,” they
were awakened from a sound sleep in the stillness of the
night by the ringing of an old tavern hand-bell at the cor-
ners below, followed by the low melodious crooning of some
plantation melody and a general raising of window-sash in
the houses around, to hear the “announcement” which soon
came from a pair of stentorian lungs, like unto this:
“Oh, yes! Oh, yes!! I have lost a little girl—three years
old—with a yaller calicer dress—blue-check apron—-pink
sun-bonnet—red stockings and blue morocco shoes—who-
ever will deliver her to me shall—be—well—rewarded.”
Starting up his horse on a gallop with a “go-link, go-link,
go-link,” of his bell that kept time with the fall of the hoof,
he rode to the next corner, when there was a repetition and
so on along until the lost lamb was restored to the fold.
“How in Sam Hill he manages to ride that hoss, all clut-
tered up in that way, I can’t see,” said Maj. Berry, the old
tax collector, one night, as Harrison reined up his horse to
the curb in front of Hargreave Lee’s old store opposite the
Kremlin Block, and delivered to an almost distracted family
wTho lived overhead, one little boy, one little dog and one
little drum, which together with crutch, bell and reins, on a
one-stirrup saddle, accompanied old Harrison on his nag—
and he was master of the situation.
He was the best singer in the old Vine-street (colored)
Methodist Church, where he wooed and won his wife, aEARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
213
three-quarter white frail little body. It was at his house
near the canal where E. P. Christy and his boy George went
occasionally to spend an evening in music and “down South
talk,” while they were preparing to make their debut in the
minstrelsy business. Here also some of the members of the
Empire Minstrels, an organization of home talent, consisting
of some of our best young men, made studies from life for
the purpose of going out to nearby cities for a little fun, but
by good business management and high appreciation from
unexpected quarters, were induced to make the tour of the
principal cities of the United States—the pioneer negro min-
strel company.
As an auctioneer on wheels Harrison was pre-eminent.
Scorning a sitting posture his upright figure on crutch and
one leg was a familiar sight as he drove around from place
to place, receiving bids on the decrepit vehicles and “little
off” horse-flesh, that was almost daily put in his hands to
make the best of.
As a swimmer, he would have been entitled to “take the
cake.” One feat with one foot in treading water was when,
in cuffing his wife’s ears, she backed away from him and
tumbled into the canal. He followed and rescued her, hold-
ing her head above water until help was at hand.
Planting his crutch on a bar-room floor he could describe
a half circle of one foot over the stove-pipe hat of the tallest
man in the room, and come down standing right side up
(with care for the hat), to the great amazement of all, and
liberal contributions of “shad scales” from the spectators.
One afternoon in May a party of gentlemen were taking
it easy in the big arm chairs under the trees in front of the
office of Stevenson Brothers’ big yellow wooden livery stable
on Pearl street in the rear of the old American Hotel, when
Lieut. Hamilton of the regulars stationed at Poinsett Bar-214
SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS
racks, called out to Jimmy to have that new horse saddled
and he would ride out to Black Rock and see if the animal
would pass inspection. After mounting with the remark,
“Too many oats,” the war dance began with a sawing on the
bits, a bracing up in the stirrups and a general flying of heels
and dirt in the air, necessitating a changing of this son of
Mars’ usual infantry tactics to cavalry maneuvers of high
degree.
One of the proprietors, fearing a disaster, rushed up and
seizing the bridle bade him to “come down and try another,”
supplementing the remark with, “We will have to turn him
over to One-legged Harrison,” who happened to be stand-
ing across the street grinning at the free circus.
Hamilton obeyed the order, and came down and out of
the stirrups with alacrity. His Southern blood was fired,
and sidling toward John in chanticleer fashion, demanded
to know what he meant by his “insinuation, sah!”
Now, John “didn’t mean anything” by his good-natured
slip, but he should have borne in mind that it was part of a
West Pointer’s education to keep on deck of the most
sprightly equine “high kicker,” under all circumstances.
Quite a crowd collected to “hear ’em argy.” It was moved
by John L. Talcott, and seconded by Eli Cook that the mat-
ter be referred to Landlord Hodges, whereupon the party
went over through the back way to the American, to “see
about it.” There the affair was satisfactorily settled accord-
ing to the old Kentucky code (old rye and lemon peel) with-
out anybody being shot, even in the neck.
In later years Harrison became morose, and lost control
of his temper. His hearty ringing guffaw was no longer
heard on the streets, and the children knew him no more.
“Copper John,” the faithful old sentinel over the castellated
walls in Auburn took him under his watchful eye where heEARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
215
could enjoy the ministrations of a fellow townsman, the
Rev. P. G. Cook, former principal of Cook’s Academy, who
had lately graduated from the Theological Seminary and
received the appointment of Prison Chaplain.
“OLD BEALS.”
An old-time “Jack-of-all-trades,” master of the profes-
sions, manipulator of cats’ paws, a power behind the throne
of local squatter sovereignty and a thorn to the easy-going
portion of the early business community was “Old Beals.”
He came to Buffalo from Ithaca, N. Y,. via Cayuga Lake
and the Erie canal in the early ’40’s, as owner and captain
of a condemned laker bought of the old-time firm of
Morgans, merchants and grain shippers, at Aurora, Cayuga
Co.; with the understanding that it was to be paid for in
thirty days after its arrival at Buffalo. The boat never
reached its place of destination, but was mysteriously sunk
at Black Rock after its cargo had been disposed of, and
the proceeds snug in the big calf-skin wallet of Mr. Beals.
These were the days when the word of most business
men was considered as good as their bond, especially of a
younger man to a confiding old gentleman who didn’t want
to bother mending a troublesome old goose-quill.
Prior to the middle ’40’s the only railroad tracks that
led into Buffalo were the Buffalo and Black Rock horse
railway 2j^ miles long, and the Buffalo and Niagara Falls
Railroad, 22 miles. The bucking facilities of the lake
steamers (excepting the old United States, Capt. Whitiker,
with a record of having during her career made the port
of Buffalo in every month of the year), were inadequate
for raising the occasional ice-blockades of the harbor, caused
by protracted southwest winds packing the ice around the
harbor and delaying navigation in the lower end of the216
SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS
lake, many days after the opening of canal navigation, and
the flow of travel from the East began pouring into Buffalo,
causing the inevitable overflow of hotels, big corners in the
provision markets, and jam of canal boats awaiting the
arrival of in-bound lake freight.
It was during one of these seasons that Beals, having a
month before heard that the ice in the bay was piled moun-
tains high, indicating a late opening, left Ithaca on his late
purchase on a calling tour at the various landings on
Cayuga Lake, and soon after arrival at Cayuga Bridge with
an assorted cargo of Tompkins-county russets, dried apples
on the string and left-over odds and ends from the farmers'
cellars. Hastily constructing a lot of coops which he filled
with live poultry from the village for a deck load, and
snapping on to a tow-line, he was soon on his way to the
promised land.
Arriving at Black Rock Dam, his craft was boarded by
“Bill” Baldy, “Hop” Young and “Spectacled” Keyes, three
eminent steamboat solicitors of that day celebrated for
their jolly vociferousness and buttonhole tenacity, who were
prospecting for late arrivals of freight and passengers.
Baldy at once saw that here was “a chance for a speck,”
and forthwith with Hop and Keyes, formed a syndicate
backed by “Gus” Tiffany, who personally conducted the
sales in job lots to be loaded into the wagons of eager
market-men and provision dealers of Buffalo.
Surprised beyond compare at the sudden dropping of
his boat to the bottom of the canal the night after unloading,
Beals the following morning proceeded on foot up the tow-
path to finish a trip that was to add another to the list of
enterprising men of Buffalo.
While passing Sandy Town he observed in a cove formed
on the flats at the east side of the canal near the foot ofEARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
217
Court street a fleet of condemned: pioneer canal boats. In
forty-eight hours he was in possession of seven boats, two
of them noted as being part of the flotilla that went out to
meet Governor Clinton on the opening of the Erie Canal.
With these and a lease of two acres of land surrounding,
and subsequent additions of old craft, hauled ashore and
blocked up, he founded the suburban attraction known as
Bealsville, which was soon tenanted by a class of laborers
who much preferred these lodgings to the squatter board
shanties of Sandy Town.
His first introduction to our business men was a personal
call offering twenty cents for smooth Spanish quarters
taken for sixteen cents. By a heating process he restored
to view the obliterated impression and realized the full
value—twenty-five cents. He also cashed doubtful notes
and accounts with which he had a very unpleasant way of
pressing collection. Near the canal cut, off Washington
street, he erected a high board fence around a dilapidated
warehouse, and building up lean-to sheds he opened up a
second-hand lumber yard and sort of museum and sales
rooms for old doors, sash, blinds, mantels and the like from
dismantled buildings falling under the march of improve-
ment. As a speculator in damaged edibles and other
calamity holdings he knew just when and where to strike.
Old-timers of the ’4o’s will remember seeing and smell-
ing on the corner of North Division street, opposite “the
churches,” the smoke and fumes of roasting peas and divers
cereals, rolling out from the doors and windows of an
establishment on which was the sign, “T. Foster, pure
ground coffee and spice mills.” One day a canal boat
loaded mostly with coffee and sugars consigned to A. D. A.
Miller and Geo. B. Walbridge, collided with a stone boat
and sunk off the shore of the “Five Points.” Beals bought218
SYLVESTER L MATHEWS
the coffee and in a few days the air in the neighborhood of
his establishment rivaled Foster’s in fragrance, it being the
aroma from genuine Rio, Java and Maracaibo, which was
being roasted, ground, and packed in half-pound packages
and labeled “Buffalo Pure Ground Coffee,” to be sold in
Cleveland,.
The last trip down the lake for boats to lay up for the
winter often brought mutton carcasses, dressed hogs, Ohio
walnuts, etc. The propeller Princeton, after being storm-
bound at Fairport during a warm, muggy spell in early
December, arrived with 250 dressed hogs that presented a
sorry sight with their flesh of greenish hue, and fast
acquiring an oriental fragrance. Fifteen minutes after the
boat tied up Beals had the lot at one dollar a hog, and
fifteen minutes later took one hundred dollars for his
bargain from a lard-oil refiner whom he had forestalled.
During the summer months many a full cream Hamburg
cheese in handling for shipment would be found cracked,
with skippers threatening to skip out with the internal
arrangements. These Beals would buy and break up into
butter firkins, stirring in rectified corn whiskey (then
bought at sixteen cents a gallon by the barrel) and allowed
to ferment and settle down to come out a prime article of
old brandy cheese, commanding good prices in the New
York market.
He was a surprise party on more than one occasion to
persons with houses built with windows on the line and
liable to be darkened by building against. Dumping a load
or two of lumber in front of adjoining premises he had
rented, preliminary to erecting a shed-like structure, nego-
tiations would be at once opened for “buying him off.”
As a curb-stone broker he was much sought after for
small loans on “jack-knife and bull’s-eye” collateral, evenEARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.	219
to the taking of chattel mortgages on false teeth on gold
plates; one loan of twenty dollars on a full set causing him
much grief by the burning of the ill-fated steamboat Erie
off Silver Creek, August 9, 1841, by which awful calamity
nearly 300 lives were lost—and the teeth!
On the memorable night of October 18, 1844, after a
series of southeast gales lasting a week which had lowered
the water in the harbor over two feet and laid bare the
beach further out than the oldest inhabitant could remem-
ber, the wind, just before twelve, suddenly changed into
the northwest, blowing a hurricane, changing a balmy moon-
light night into a dark aerial pandemonium. Without a
moment's warning a wall of water like a huge tidal wave
came down the lake and entered the harbor by leaping over
the pier and across the island, lifting the shipping bodily
from their moorings and banging them against the docks
and warehouses amid fearful howlings and crashings. On
went the tide until canal, streets, lumber yards, and nearly
everything on the flats east, south, and west of the city
were under one body of water.
Most remarkable were the changes of base that appeared
after the waters had receded. Boats that had no buildings
to keep them within bounds “got up and left across lots."
The steamboat Columbus, a 6oo-tonner, lay high and dry
in Ohio street, near Wilson's coal yard. The steamer
Chautauqua was caught by the big wave ten miles out and
set down, right side up, in Sandy Town in among the brush
heaps and sand hills. Bealsville had gone off, and on its
site were spread out the scattered cargoes of two lumber-
laden schooners. That ended the utilization of canal boats
for residential purposes, so far as Beals was concerned.
He soon sickened, closed up his affairs, and died, 1850.220
SYLVESTER /. MATHEWS
SOME BUFFALO BELLS.
There are bells in Buffalo that, for the historic interest
they possess, and others for their rich mellowness of tone,
are worth their weight in gold. Go and ascertain the taking
price of that venerable little i,ooo-pounder that hangs in
the minor tower of the Church-street side of St. Paul’s.
This bell that so long tolled forth from the belfry of the
four-pinnacled tower of the quaint little blue church of
St. Paul’s on the spot called “The Churches,” was the first
church bell that tolled the hour of worship to the old-time
Buffalonians; and in deference to the wishes of the late
Rev. Dr. William Shelton of much revered memory, who
filled a rectorship of over a half-century in St. Paul’s parish,
the old bell, after it was decided to have chimes in the main
tower, was retained that he might hear its old familiar tone
as it rang out from the smaller belfry as the ‘‘Sunday-school
bell.”1
Before the beginning of the War of 1812 and the sub-
sequent burning of Buffalo by the British, the village had
no church building, and according to this story, as related
by Mrs. St. John to the writer, “Buffalo never had a church
nor a bell. The men folks were all too busy to think of
religion, and us women folks all went to meetin’ in the old
Court-house.”
Prior to the early ’20’s, and during the first decade of re-
building the burned village, several religious societies were
organized and held services in the spacious new Court-
house, erected in 1816, the old bell of which, now in posses-
sion of the Buffalo Historical Society, was virtually the
primitive “Sabbath bell” of Buffalo. After the erection of
St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in 1819, the first of the churches
1. In recent years it has been rung for communion on Thursdays and Holy
Days.EARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
221
to be finished with a steeple, a subscription paper for a bell
was started one morning along the docks and up Main
street. Before night the paper, headed with “John Lay,
S5.00,” and ended with a $10 bill from the big calfskin
wallet of that most Catholic of French Catholics, Louis Le
Couteulx, insured to the Episcopalians the first church bel!
of Buffalo.
Subsequently and in part contemporary with St. Paul’s,
two miles away to the north, in the belfry of the Brecken-
ridge-street Presbyterian Church, in the rival village of
Black Rock, hung a 500-pound bell that has for over 60
years called the people to worship. Among whom, along
in the ’50’s, might occasionally have been seen, book in
hand, wending his way along with his “Auntie Allen” to
church, a then unthought of, but later much talked of, Presi-
dent of the United States.
This bell, by virtue of annexation, became brevet senior
church bell of Buffalo.
To the sad ending of the career of this Buffalo bell,
there hangs a tale. After the sale of the old church prop-
erty in 1890, preparatory to building on a new site, the bell
was stored in an out-house on the premises of the Hon.
Lewis F. Allen. One night, after Mr. Allen’s death, thieves
broke in and stole the bell, which, although search was made,
has never been found.1
The second bell to entrench itself in the affections of the
Buffalo villagers was the “town- clock bell,” a 2,500-pounder
of clear sonorous tone that tolled off the hours, and rang
out the “7,” “12” and “9-0’clock bell” from the tower of the
elegant brick First Presbyterian Church edifice that had
just been completed (1827), and thereafter stood with the
stately mien of a grandfather’s clock for two decades along-
1. Nor is its whereabouts known to this day.222
SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS
side the “little blue church," and afterwards the new St.
Paul's until the '90's.
One Fourth of July in the early '40's, Sexton John New-
land and assistant, in dancing around the vestibule with a
big rope in their hands while ringing the sweet jubilee bell,
developed a fracture, which, after much boring, sawing
and filing, resulted only in producing hoarser and more dis-
agreeable tones, necessitating the removal of the bell for
re-casting. Its successor proved to be nearly of the same
tone as the original and faithfully performed its duty
until the removal uptown to more sumptuous and retired
quarters.
The third and last to make its debut as a “village bell,"
was an 1,800-pounder introduced by the Universalists in the
early '30's for their big wooden church around the corner
on Washington between South Division and Swan streets.
This bell was the firemen's favorite and was called by them
“the rattler." In the '6o's, after a removal to the new
brick Church of the Messiah, on Main, above Huron street,
the church-bell and all were destroyed by fire.
Along in the middle ’30's, Buffalo having become a city,
the Baptists, after leaving their pretty little white-spired
bell-less church on the corner of Washington and Seneca
streets for the new “big brick" on Washington, above Swan
street, introduced a 2,600-pounder, the first of the “city
bells." After being duly installed in the huge, square, flat-
top, unsightly belfry for about a year, Old Boreas in a big
blowout one night gave vent to his distaste for the big two-
story box steeple, by giving it a series of twists that neces-
sitated a “coming down and out" for remodeling. After a
delay of two or more years, the bell was replaced under
cover of a more church-like looking steeple, where within
a year it revealed a cracked voice. After a re-cast, the newEARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
223
bell was placed in position for elevation and when about half
way up suddenly became the principal actor in a grand
“stand from under” matinee, cutting its way “clean down
to the suller bottom/ ’as the old sexton expressed it, “right
side up with care” and no bones broken. Another trial was
more successful, and for a series of years this bell, with that
of the Universalist, St. Paul’s and the old First Church, all
near each other, furnished all the bell-ringing within the
radius of a mile that was necessary.
In 1842, the first Lutheran bell of Buffalo, a 1,400-
pounder, was put in the big square tight-blind belfry of the
First Lutheran Church (of good old Pastor Guenther’s
memory) that had been erected away over on Hickory
street, five years before. This bell was rung in the style of
the “Fatherland,” but as it was “sound-smothered,” and so
far away, never became a disturbing factor.
Along in the summer evenings of 1845 the melodious
sound of a vesper bell came stealing over the plain from
the belfry of a long, low, one-storv brick church building,
from where now rise the walls and spires of the cathedral-
like edifice of St. Mary’s German Catholic Church on Broad-
way and Pine street. This was the first Catholic bell of
Buffalo, and was a pleasing innovation to many, as its earlv-
morning calls were in tones that turned many a morning nap
into a dream-like slumber. In 1846 was placed on one of
the rear, unfinished brick towers of St. Louis’ German and
French Catholic Church on Main street, a 3,000-pound
‘‘slumber-breaker,” that soon created a difference of opinion
as to the merits of early-morning bell-ringing.
The second Catholic bell, the early-morning “slumber-
breaker” of St. Louis’ Church, after a clamorous career of
four decades, was destroyed by fire at the burning of the
church during the ’8o’s.224
SYLVESTER J. MATHEWS
Many of the old-time residents of Buffalo during the
decade between ’40 and ’50, can easily recall to mind a big
wooden sign-board that for years extended from building
to curb, in front of a three-story brick, adjoining the Buf-
falo Engine Works on Ohio street, bearing the legend,
“Adam Good, Brass and Bell Founder,” the reading of
which by the young irrepressibles who chanced to pass by
was often with a vigorous, loud-toned, hyphenized Adam,
which was not at all aggravating to Adam, for he knew that
it was fast becoming a profitable trade-mark in the manu-
facture of honest tin and copper bell metal for bells of light-
weight, for which he was becoming celebrated. In 1846,
during the building of the new North Presbyterian Church
on Main street, local pride and a desire to patronize home
industry prompted Jason Sexton, of the building committee,
to tender to Mr. Good the contract for a 3,000-pounder.
Now, Adam’s reputation lay mostly in his 1,000-pound
church bells, for which he had many orders and ran as a
specialty. Not having the facilities for these big jobs, he
declined, but after much persuasion he concluded to try his
hand. After three trials, the results not proving of satis-
factory tone to himself, he sent the order to Medway, Mass.,
which was duly filled with a bell of deep, heavy tone, which
was known thereafter as the “growler.”
Sunday “stop-overs” in some of our older Western towns
are often struck with the peculiar mellow sound of a church
bell. Should they take the pains to visit the belfry, they
would find a 1,000-pounder bearing an old-time Buffalo
birth-mark, and other indisputable evidence of the handi-
work of “Adam Good, Brass and Bell Founder.”
NEW year's IN THE ^o’S.
“Lower the goosenecks,” was the order that passed along
the long line of horse stalls to the floor above, where hadEARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
225
been summered most everything on runners from the bril-
liant colored swell-bodied single gooseneck cutter, the big
two-horse pleasure sleigh with elevated driver’s seat,
flanked by a pair of graceful golden wings that hugged the
sides, with tips nearly astern of the craft, piled ini with a
wealth of big buffalo, wolf and bearskin robes, to the
gorgeous four- or six-in-hand gondola-like turn-out in the
big yellow livery stable of Stevenson Brothers on Pearl
street, the night before New Year’s of 1842; for it was
expected that on the morrow it would be a day of high
carnival promised by the gentle and even piling up of the
falling snow without.
Those were the days when the fashion of making “New
Year’s calls” was at its height, and almost everybody kept
“open house.” Days before, fhe order books of the then
leading concoctors of sweets, McArthur, and Van Kleek,
were “tell tales” of where there was likely to be a spread of
macaroons, meringues, silver, gold and fruit cake and the
old-time gothic-shaped New Year’s cakes that the old folks
liked so well to hand out to the little ones who “went around
a-wishing” and who at some homes were the most welcome
of all guests.
Old Niagara Square was then the social hub and the
center of attraction for callers on foot, or in sleighs of
many kinds, causing the air to resound with the merry
tea-bell tinkling of the tiny thill bell, and the more pleasing
rattling melody of the ponderous fifteen-pound bellyband
and ten-pound collar strings of old-time New England
sleigh bells, that jingled to the gliding of “grandfather’s
high back,” nearly the livelong day and well along into the
evening shades.
Over on the west side of the square in the old colonial
style house of the Wilkesons, the venerable Judge was “at226
EARLY DAYS IN BUFFALO.
home.” South side, the pretty landscape-and-medallion
painted shades were rolled up in the parlors of Hon. Geo.
R. Babcock; while on the opposite corner the gorgeous
window laces of Lawyer Seth G. Austen were looped up.
Across the square on the east side, the big green blinds of
the Court street front of Gen. David Burt’s house (now
a part and parcel of the old Central High School) were
non-obstructors of light. On the north side the castellated
residence of Gen. George P. Barker (afterwards the Hollis-
ton-Fillmore mansion) had an inviting look with its silver
latchstring hung out, emblematic of “welcome,” and its
neighbor, the handsome home of Col. Henry H. Sizer,
withstood more than one charge of a storming party up its
high stone steps.
Like most old time-honored customs abuses crept in.
While it was pleasing to hear the “returns come in” from
where they kept the lists of calls and number, the tired
and almost distracted fair entertainer and her bevy “to
assist” did not deem it incumbent upon themselves to
“receive” military, fire, and target companies and societies
in a body where “things get mixed” and promiscuousness
prevailed, oftentimes necessitating a mid-winter’s house-
cleaning and an extra bill for crippled furniture repairs.
Another decade later finds the beautiful custom fast
falling into disrepute, except among the families of genuine
Knickerbockers, who well know how to preserve it in all
its pristine glory.