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New York City

On Mayors and the Counting Thereof

“A List of the Members of the City Government from its incorporation (1653) up to the present time, arranged alphabetically; with the different stations held by them in the Common Council; and also under the State and United States Government.” Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1866. D.T. Valentine, Clerk of the Common Council.

Recent news reports have suggested that New York City has been misnumbering its Mayors since the 1600s. Not that they were numbering them at that time, but ever since the City started giving official numerical designations, the numbering has gone awry.

In the 2019-2020 “Green Book,” The Official Directory of the City of New York, Matthius Nicolls is given a single entry, 1672. In truth he was Mayor from 1671-1672 and again from 1674-1675. NYC Municipal Library.

This past August, historian Paul Hortenstine noticed that the “Official” list of Mayors failed to include the second term of Mayor Matthias Nicolls (Nicoll). He had served two non-consecutive terms, the first from 1671-1672, and the second from 1674-1675. Hortenstine was not the first to notice this discrepancy. In 1989, the New York Genealogical and Biographical Society published an article by Peter Christoph revealing that every mayor after #7 had been misnumbered. As Christoph pointed out, if a Mayor had two non-consecutive terms the practice was to assign them two numbers, starting with Thomas Willett, who was Mayor #1 and #3. He noted four other early Mayors credited with two terms.

We thought the error might have been due to a little-known hiccup in mayoral history. In July 1673, the Dutch (who had established the colony of New Amsterdam in 1625 and lost it in 1664), invaded and took it back. For fifteen months the colony (renamed “New Orange”) was under a Dutch “Council of War,” that restored the Dutch-style government of a council of Burgomasters and Schepens. As a result, there was not a “Mayor of New York” between July 1673 and November 1674, when the English Governor, Edmund Andros, reappointed Nicolls. Moreover, Nicolls had not been Mayor when the Dutch invaded, his successor, John Lawrence, had assumed that role. So, by all rights, Nicolls served two non-consecutive terms with another Mayor in the middle, making him Mayor #6 and #8. Thereby moving everyone else one place down the line. Lawrence was appointed Deputy Mayor in 1674, but also served another non-consecutive term as Mayor, the 2nd time in 1691, making him both #7 and #20 (under the corrected numbering system).

Records of the Mayor’s Courts of the City of New York, entry from October 12, 1672 lists “Capt. Matthius Nicolls, May[or].” The book for the following year is missing from the historic record. Court Minutes, Volume 6, 1670 October 13-1674 November 10, NYC Municipal Archives.

On October 12, 1672, the council put forward John Lawrence and Matthius Nicolls as candidates for Mayor. John Lawrence was apparently selected but those records have been lost. MSS0040 New Amsterdam records, Court Minutes, Volume 6, 1670-1674, page 205.

In one of his last acts as City Clerk, David Dinkins transferred the colonial Dutch and English records of New Amsterdam and New York to Commissioner of the Department of Records & Information Services, Eugene Bockman, December 30, 1985. NYC Municipal Archives.

Christoph, in a footnote, surmised the error arose from the compiler using the “Minutes of the Mayor’s Court” as a source, and noted that a volume for the period November 1674-September 1675 had been missing for some time. In 1982, historian Kenneth Scott located the volume at the New York County Clerk’s Division of Old Records. At that time, all the earlier Dutch and English Court minutes resided with the New York City Clerk. On December 30, 1985, outgoing City Clerk David N. Dinkins transferred the entire collection of colonial-era records held by the City Clerk to the Municipal Archives. The 1674-1675 volume still resides with the County Clerk in a later series of Mayor’s Court records covering the years 1674 to 1820. However, the Minutes of the Common Council, which are also with the Municipal Archives and were published in 1905, still have a gap from 1674-1675.

After the Dutch returned New York to the English in 1674, the Mayor’s Court reconvened with Captain Matthius Nicolls as Mayor. Minutes of the Mayor’s Court, November 13, 1674-September 21, 1675. New York County Clerk.

There is yet another missing volume from these records—the volume documenting activities from October 13, 1672 to August 11, 1673. The last entry in the preceding volume, dated October 12, 1672, lists “Capt. Matthius Nicolls, May[or]” at the top. The next book in Archives possession starts on August 12, 1673, in Dutch, titled “Proceedings of the War Council of New Orange.” Those Dutch records end on November 10, 1674. The next volume begins, in English again, with Matthius Nicolls as Mayor. So, the first term of John Lawrence is missing entirely from the historical record. Some compiler must have realized this and inserted him into the history but forgot to split Nicolls’ two terms.

Proceedings of the War Council of New Orange, starts on August 12, 1673, in Dutch. The Dutch records end on November 10, 1674, just before Nicolls was reappointed. Court Minutes, Volume 6, 1670 October 13-1674 November 10, NYC Municipal Archives.

In the 1841 edition of the Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, the clerk listed “Members of the City Council from 1655 to present.” The list actually starts at 1653 and included both Dutch and English governmental structures.  Samuel J. Willis, Clerk of the Common Council, Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1841. NYC Municipal Library.

The earliest printed list of Mayors (without numbers) that we located, appeared in the first Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York 1841-1842 edition, under the authority of Samuel J. Willis, Clerk of the Common Council. The list has large gaps in the colonial period and includes a note, “there are no records during the time of the first English possession in the Clerk’s office.” The Manual, as was explained in the preface, was created because it had, “been thought expedient to enlarge the substance of the City Hall Directory... by the introduction of additional matter interesting and useful to members of the Corporation....”

The first Manual listed “Mayors,” members of the City Council, and the Dutch colonial government officers of New Amsterdam. The Manuals became more widely associated with then Assistant Clerk and future Clerk, David Thomas Valentine. During D.T. Valentine’s tenure, from 1843 to 1867, the manuals became increasingly elaborate and lavishly illustrated with fold-out maps and historical information. He reprinted the 1841 list verbatim in the 1842-1843 edition. In the 1853 edition, Valentine included “Sketches of the Mayors of New York from 1665 to 1834.” This included all the colonial English Mayors but not the Dutch leaders. It does not mention Nicolls’ second term. This erroneous list was also published in the Civil List and Forms of Government of the Colony and State of New York beginning with the 1865 edition.

There were errors and large gaps in the first published list in 1841. It not only left out the 1674 second term of Nicolls, it identifies Thomas Willet as “Major” instead of “Mayor” in 1665 and then skips to the Dutch Burgomasters in 1673. Samuel J. Willis, Clerk of the Common Council, Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1841. NYC Municipal Library.]

In the 1854, 1863, and 1866 editions of the Manual, Valentine printed an alphabetical “List of the Members of the City Government from its incorporation (1653) up to the present time...” This list included the Dutch but omits Mayor John Lawrence, an error repeated through the 1866 edition. In his 1861 Manual, Valentine also published a section called “Mayors of City,” which ignores the colonial period entirely. Instead, the list begins after the American Revolution with Mayor James Duane in 1783. The 1869 and 1870 editions contain something close to the current list of “Mayors of the City of New York” starting on 1665. However, they omitted two mayors.

“Mayors of the City of New York, 1665-1869.” Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1870. John Hardy Clerk of the Common Council. NYC Municipal Library.

The earliest known appearance of a numbered list of the “Mayors of the City of New York.” Official Directory of the City of New York, 1921. NYC Municipal Library. 

In 1918 the Official Directory of the City of New York, a.k.a. the “Green Book,” began publication under the direction of the Supervisor of the City Record. In 1921 the Green Book included a list of Mayors. In it, and all subsequent editions, until it went completely online in 2021, they reprinted and updated the list of mayors, with number designations. Up through 1936 the list was consistent. It started with Thomas Willett at #1 and finished with #98—LaGuardia. Then, starting in 1937, they added a mayor, Charles Lodwik as #21 (1694 to 1695) and bumped everyone after him up one so that LaGuardia became #99. Lodwik had also been missing from the 1869 and 1870 lists in the Manual, most likely the source for the Green Book. However, Lodwik (sometimes spelled Lodewick) had been included in the list of Mayors Valentine published in 1853 as “Charles Lodowick, Mayor in 1694.”

The insertion of Lodwik to the list in 1937 may originate with the 1935 publication of Select Cases of the Mayor’s Court as it contains two mentions of Mayor Charles Lodwik. The book also contains the first mention in print of Nicolls’ 1674 term. It states “The records of the Mayor’s Court included in this volume begin more properly with the reoccupation of the English in 1674. The new mayor and deputy-mayor, Matthias Nicolls and John Lawrence, respectively, had both held the mayoralty under the first English rule.”

Charles Lodowick, Mayor in 1694, was included in “Sketches of the Mayors of New York from 1665 to 1834,” but left out of later lists until 1937. Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1853. D.T. Valentine, Clerk of the Common Council.

Additional confusion about the number of Mayors arises from the differing forms of government during the Dutch and English colonial periods. Until 1977, the City founding date was listed as 1664. In 1977, the founding date was set as “1625” to acknowledge the year the Dutch established a colony on Manhattan. Between 1625 to 1653 the colony was under the authority of the Dutch colonial governors. In 1653, New Amsterdam incorporated under a charter and established the Dutch system of Burgomasters and Schepens, and Schout, which could roughly translate to offices of mayors, aldermen, and sheriff. These bodies decided several different functions, including criminal and civil legal matters, and municipal governance.

On June 12, 1665, the English Governor Richard Nicolls (no relation) abolished the Dutch court and established the first Mayor’s Court, naming Thomas Willet as Mayor. Willet is traditionally listed as the first mayor.

However, even if the count begins in 1665, why does the list skip the new court of Burgomasters and Schepens appointed on August 17th, 1673? Part of the answer is that the Dutch system, with two or three Burgomasters (or Mayors) serving jointly is confusing. And as noted above, part of it is that the Dutch were largely written out of the history of New York City[i] until the 1970s. Given that the first English Mayors appointed by the Governor served functions similar to[ii] their Dutch predecessors, why not include the Burgomasters in the count? If the count included Burgomasters who served multiple, non-consecutive terms, 15 additional Mayors[iii] would be on the list.

List of the Burgomasters 1653-1674 as published in the Civil list and forms of government of the Colony and State of New York: containing notes on the various governmental organizations; lists of the principal colonial, state and county officers, and the congressional delegations and presidential electors, with the votes of the electoral colleges, 1870. Hathi Trust.

The aforementioned hiccup in 1673 was not the only period in which the line of Mayors was broken. Just over a hundred years later, on June 22, 1776, the line was interrupted again when the Continental Army arrested Mayor David Matthews. He escaped from house arrest in December 1776 and returned to New York, then under British military control. Matthews retained the title of Mayor with greatly reduced power. He left the City on November 25th, 1783 (Evacuation Day). The next Mayor was appointed on February 10, 1784.

Four “Acting Mayors” get mentions, but no numbers. Green Book 2019-2020. NYC Municipal Library.

Another oddity is that when Mayor James J. Walker was forced to resign due to a corruption scandal an “Acting Mayor,” Joseph V. McKee—President of the New York City Board of Aldermen—was appointed on September 1, 1932. In the subsequent special election, McKee lost to John P. O’Brien who served for one full year, 1933. O’Brien is on the list as #96, but although McKee is noted, he is not given a number. When William O’Dwyer left office in September 1950, Vincent R. Impellitteri, President of the City Council, assumed the role of Mayor. He is counted because he won the special election in November 1950 and served a full four-year term. McKee is not the only Acting Mayor who is not counted—Ardolph Kline finished William Gaynor’s term, after the latter died on September 10, 1913 of complications from an assassination attempt three years prior.

The Green Book records two additional instances, “T. Coman” in 1868, and “S.B.H. Vance” in 1874. They are on the list but are not counted as Mayors. Thomas Coman was President of the Board of Aldermen from 1868 to 1871. When Mayor John Thompson Hoffman left office to become Governor, Coman was elevated to Acting Mayor, serving from December 1, 1868, to January 4, 1869. The next Tammany-backed Mayor appointed him to oversee construction of the New York County (Tweed) Courthouse, and he was indicted for corruption. Samuel B.H. Vance similarly ascended to Acting Mayor from the position of President of the Board of Aldermen on November 30, 1874, when Mayor William Havemeyer died. He served until January 1, 1875, when William Wickman was sworn in. Exactly four weeks. No scandals recorded.

“Mayors of the City” was another list of mayors Valentine compiled that only included post-Revolutionary War mayors. Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1861. D.T. Valentine, Clerk of the Common Council.

The count of Mayors in New York City government seems not to be determined by a uniform set of rules. Four Mayors who assumed the role by Charter mandate, but who were not elected, are not counted. In the colonial era, Mayors appointed by the English are counted. But not Dutch ones. Or “Acting” ones. Who makes up these rules?

Hortenstine has identified two additional colonial-era “Acting Mayors,” William Beekman from 1681-1683, who had been a Burgomaster in 1674, and Gerardus Stuyvesant in 1744. Neither has been listed in the Green Book and their dates in office overlap with other listed Mayors. The Municipal Archives’ finding aid to the Records of the Early Mayors, also has a numbered list of Mayors. It does not have Nicolls’ second term, or the two Acting Mayors Hortenstine identified, but it has another, Thomas Hood. Hortenstine believes that to be a transcription error however, and that it was Phillip French who assumed the office after Thomas Noell died from smallpox in 1702. The Archives list does assign numbers to Acting Mayors, and when last updated it had Bill de Blasio at #114. Adding the three missing terms, but subtracting Hood, he would be #116, making Adams #117 and Mamdani #118.

The initial question was, should Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani be counted as the 111th or 112th? But the answer has proven far more complex. The numbering of New York City “Mayors” has been somewhat arbitrary and inconsistent. Maybe he should be number 118? If the Dutch Burgomasters were counted in the same way we count Mayors serving non-consecutive terms, another fifteen would be included so the Mayor-elect might be number 133. There may even be other missing Mayors. As far as employees at the Department of Records and Information Services can tell, no government agency has been tasked with “counting” Mayors. The numbers have been more a matter of convenience. One thing for certain is he is not Mayor 111. By our current Anglo-centric numbering practice (not including Acting Mayors) it does appear that on January 1, 2026, Mayor Mamdani should be Mayor number 112.

[i] Valentine complained, in an 1867 letter, that the Dutch records “were not very attentively cared for, having been without readers for probably a century and more. No attempt had been made to translate them; and... the history of New Amsterdam... was not supposed to lie hidden in these dusty, unbound and forbidding volumes.”

[ii] It was not until the Dongan Charter of 1683 that City government more closely resembled our own, with a “common council” that consisted of a mayor, recorder, six aldermen, and six assistant aldermen. Most importantly, the Dongan Charter separated the legislative functions of the council from the two judicial courts that were established. However, the Mayor was still appointed by various governmental bodies until 1834 when Cornelius W. Lawrence was democratically elected Mayor. With the exception of Peter Delanoy who was democratically elected in 1689, during Leisler’s rebellion, a short-lived colonial uprising against Catholic English rule.

[iii] The Burgomasters were the following: 1653: Arent van Hattem, Martin Cregier; 1654: Arent van Hattem (replaced by Allard Anthony), Martin Cregier; 1655-1656: Allard Anthony, Oloff Stevenson van Cortland; 1657: Allard Anthony, Paulus Leendertseen van der Grist; 1658: Paulus Leendertseen van der Grist, Oloff Stevenson van Cortland; 1659: Oloff Stevenson van Cortland, Martin Cregier; 1660: Martin Cregier, Allard Anthony, Oloff Stevenson van Cortland; 1661: Allard Anthony, Paulus Leendertseen van der Grist; 1662: Paulus Leendertseen van der Grist, Oloff Stevenson van Cortland; 1663: Oloff Stevenson van Cortland, Martin Cregier, Paulus Leendertseen van der Grist; 1664: Paulus Leendertseen van der Grist, Cornelis Steenwyck; 1673: Johannes van Brugh, Johannes de Peyster, Ægidius Luyck; 1674: Johannes van Brugh, William Beeckman.

Sources:

American Legal Records—Volume 2: Select Cases of the Mayor’s Court of New York City, 1674-1784. Pp. 40-62. The American Historical Association, 1935. https://www.familysearch.org/library/books/viewer/854396/?offset=569061#page=55&viewer=picture&o=download&n=0&q=%22john%20lawrence%22

Andrews, William Loring: “David T. Valentine” reprinted in Valentine’s Manuals: A General Index to the Manuals of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1841-1870. Harbor Hill Books, 1981 (originally published 1900).

Christoph, Peter R., “Mattias Nicolls: Sixth and Eighth Mayor of New York.” The New York Genealogical and Biographical Society Record, July 1989: Volume 120, issue 3, pages 26-27. https://www.newyorkfamilyhistory.org/online-records/nygb-record/566-602/26

Civil List and Forms of Government of the Colony and State of New York: containing notes on the various governmental organizations; lists of the principal colonial, state and county officers, and the congressional delegations and presidential electors, with the votes of the electoral colleges. The whole arranged in constitutional periods. Weed, Parsons and Co., 1870. https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/009014294

Hortenstine, Paul. “NY City Mayors and Slavery: Matthius Nicolls: 6th & 8th.” 2025. Northeast Slavery Records Index. https://nesri.commons.gc.cuny.edu/matthias-nicoll-6th-and-8th/

Guide to the records of the Early Mayors, 1826-1897. NYC Municipal Archives. https://dorisarchive.blob.core.windows.net/finding-aids/FindingAidsPDFs/OM-EMO_REC0002_FA-MASTER.pdf

Valentine, David. T., et. al. Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York by New York (N.Y.). Common Council; 1841, 1853, 1861, 1866, 1870. https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/000054276

Mr. George Rex, “The Last Slave”

Recently, the Department of Health and Mental Hygiene (DOHMH) asked the Municipal Archives to participate in a panel discussion The Birth of Identity: Race, Racism, and Personhood in New York City Health Records. Organized by Dr. Michelle Morse, Acting Commissioner and Chief Medical Officer of the DOHMH, the panelists explored the importance of birth certificates and how they record essential facts about a person’s identity. The panel also addressed how race data on birth records informs DOHMH work in pre-natal, maternal wellness, and health outcomes.

Dr. Morse extended the invitation when she learned about the Archives collection of records that document the births of enslaved children. They consist of more than 1,300 entries in local government records throughout the five Boroughs of New York City. These records had been created in response to the 1799 Act for the Gradual Abolition of Slavery in New York State. The Law stated that children born to enslaved women after July 4, 1799, would be legally freed after 25 years for women, and 28 years for men. In most instances, enslavers reported births of the children in recorded statements before Town clerks or other officials.

To prepare for the panel discussion, City archivists considered whether the Historical Vital Records (HVR) and related vital record ledger collections could potentially augment information about the enslaved children documented in the manumission records. Although vital records for the towns and villages in Brooklyn and Queens, where most of the manumissions took place, only date back to the early 1880s, research in the series is now significantly easier thanks to a completed digitization and indexing project.

Town of Newtown, Queens death ledger, 1881-1897. Historical Vital Record collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

To test their theory, City archivists began reviewing the Town of Newtown, Queens, death ledger (1881-1897), and soon came across a startling entry: No. 982; date of death: March 2, 1885; name of deceased: George Rex; age: 89. In the column for “Occupation,” the clerk wrote, very clearly, “The Last Slave.” Oh!

Apparently, the clerk somehow knew that Mr. George Rex had been born enslaved and was described in his community as the last person with that background. The research journey that led to Mr. Rex was conveyed at the DOHMH panel, with a suggestion that further research in the Archives might provide “The Last Slave” with a greater sense of identity and dignity.

Subsequent to the panel discussion, City archivists began building a family tree for Mr. Rex. Based on his apparent renown in the community, it seemed possible that his death may have resulted in a local news article. And indeed it did. In fact, the Brooklyn Daily Eagle newspaper (digitized and available on-line via the Brooklyn Public Library) published several articles about Mr. Rex. “Frozen to Death,” ran on March 3, 1885. The subhead added, “George Recks, the Missing Negro, Found after Three Weeks’ Searching the Woodside, L.I. Woods.”

The story related that Recks is the “. . . aged negro who mysteriously disappeared from his home on Quincy Street, near Lewis Avenue [Brooklyn], about three weeks ago.” The story stated that he had been owned by the Rapelye family of Brooklyn and “. . . was believed to have been the last negro slave freed on Long Island.” It also added that George Reck’s father was named George Rex, after the then King of England, but the spelling of the family name had been changed to Recks.

Marriage certificate for Phoebe Ricks and Joseph Trower, 1879. Historical Vital Record collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Would the Historical Vital Record (HVR) collection provide a greater identity and more information about Mr. George Rex/Recks? The answer is yes. The newspaper article stated that Recks had been the father-in-law of “J. C. Trower.” With that clue, archivists quickly located the 1879 marriage of Phoebe Ricks to Mr. Joseph Trower. The marriage certificate confirmed Pheobe’s parents, George Ricks and Isabella Crips. (The name was variously spelled as Ricks or Recks in the vital records.)

Continuing to search in the HVR, looking for death records indexed as Recks/Ricks resulted in the death certificate of George’s wife Isabella Crips, on July 4, 1871. According to the certificate, she had been born in Virginia in 1809, and her place of death, Quincy Street, near Stuyvesant Avenue, matched George’s residence. The certificate also indicated that Isabella was buried at the “Weekesville” Cemetery. One of the largest free Black communities in pre-Civil War America, Weekesville is currently an historic site and cultural center in Central Brooklyn.

The HVR index also led to information about George and Isabella’s other children. In addition to Phoebe, they had at least two other daughters, Margaret and Jane. Their sons William, Thomas and Peter all died at a young age. 

Death certificate for George’s son, Thomas Rix, 1862. Historical Vital Record collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Continuing research on Phoebe and James Trower, revealed that they had at least two sons, Walter and Herbert. Both lived, married and died in Brooklyn; their records consistently stated Mother’s name Phoebe Ricks, and Father’s Name Joseph A. Trower. Further research will focus on whether either of their sons had children. Perhaps these inquiries will lead to descendants of George Rex/Recks/Ricks alive today. 

Other Municipal Archives collections have proved useful in confirming additional information about George Rex/Recks/Ricks, in particular his residence on Quincy Street in Brooklyn. On March 4, 1885, the Eagle published a follow-up article. The story related that “The deceased... was born on the farm where he died. Alderman Collins, for whom Recks worked as a gardener... will see that his body is given a proper burial.”  The article added that “Mr. Collins’ wife is a daughter of Jeremiah J. Rapelye, who built for Recks a house on Quincy Street when that populous neighborhood was almost as lonely as Montauk Point.”   

Annals of Newtown, 1852. Courtesy NYPL.

The Town of Newtown death ledger entry for George Rex’ death indicated his place of birth as “Trains Meadows on the Rapelye-Purdy Farm.” Seeking to know more about this reference led to a volume, Annals of Newtown, in the Municipal Library. The book included a map insert that showed the exact location of Trains Meadows, and that it bordered both the Rapelye and Purdy farms.     

The Municipal Archives map collections and the Assessed Valuation of Real Estate ledgers confirmed the newspaper story about the Quincy Street house. The 1886 atlas of Brooklyn (Robinson’s) showed that the residence was clearly within the boundaries of what had been the Rapelye farmland in Brooklyn. The assessed valuation of real estate ledgers for Brooklyn also corroborated the news account. The Brooklyn 19th century assessment records are arranged by Ward number and further by block and lot numbers. The related series of Ward Maps helped identify the necessary numbers for the Quincy Street property: Ward 9 (later Ward 21), block 192, lot 18.   

Robinson’s Atlas of Brooklyn, 1886. NYC Municipal Archives.

Unlike the Manhattan annual assessment ledgers, each Brooklyn book spans several years. The Ward 21 ledger for 1869 through 1873, lists “J. Rapelye” as the “owner” of block 192, lot 8. Under “description of property” the clerk scribbled what looks like the number “2” indicating a two-story structure. According to later assessment records, within a few years after the death of George Rex, his property had been divided into lots and sold for residences.       

Record of Assessed Valuation, Brooklyn, Ward 21 for 1869 through 1873. NYC Municipal Archives.

George Rex’s house, lot 18, sat in the corner of what had been the Rapelye farm. Robinson’s Atlas of Brooklyn, 1886. NYC Municipal Archives.

Returning to information in the Newtown death ledger, under “cause of death” the clerk wrote “Inquest Pending” by medical attendant Coroner O’Connell. The Archives Old Town Records collection, recently processed with support from the National Historical Publications and Records Commission, includes several ledgers created by town coroners including O’Connell. Regrettably, the oldest surviving ledger maintained by Coroner O’Connell only dates back to November 1885; several months after the death of George Rex. However, on March 4, 1885, the Brooklyn newspaper reported that the cause of death had been confirmed as exposure.

Record of Assessed Valuation, Brooklyn, Ward 9 Atlas, 1863. NYC Municipal Archives.

The Municipal Archives recently launched a transcription project that will greatly enhance access to the manumission records. Born before enactment of New York State’s law for gradual emancipation in 1799, George Rex’ name will not appear in that series.  Using the Old Town records, vital records and other collections, it may be possible to identify and develop fuller histories of other member of the Rex family.

The research will continue. Mr. George Rex, “The Last Slave” will not be forgotten! 

Jane’s Walk 2025: Walking the Streets of New Amsterdam

For Jane’s Walk (named after urban historian Jane Jacobs), the New York City Municipal Archives participated in two events, a tour of the Archival storage facility in Brooklyn, and a walking tour of lower Manhattan tracing the path of New Amsterdam. The tour will live on in an app, but you too can follow it virtually. The following is a transcript of the author’s tour.

Castello Plan, New Amsterdam in 1660, redrawn by John Wolcott Adams for Stokes Iconography of New York, 1916. NYC Municipal Library.

We are going to be visiting some of the most important sites of New Amsterdam, and we can do this because the street grid of lower Manhattan is largely unchanged from the mid-1600s. And we know this because of a survey and map of the city made in 1660. There were about 1,500 residents in 300 houses in 1660, and we know the names of most of them. The original map was lost to time, but a redraft of it was part of an atlas sold to Cosimo III de’ Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany around 1667, and it was rediscovered in 1900 in villa di Castello, hence its name, the Castello Plan. A bronze relief of this map is embedded in a rock located at State Street & South Ferry, not far from where General Stuyvesant’s house, Whitehall, stood. The New Amsterdam History Center has recently brought the map to life with an interactive 3-D model.

1) Start at Bowling Green between the Customs’ House and Bowling Green Park. 

Prior to the Dutch, the tip of lower Manhattan was known to the Lenape as Kapsee “the sharp rock place.” It had been used probably for hundreds of years as a meeting place and trade location for the various tribes of the region. Tribes from Long Island, New Jersey and Upstate New York all came here to trade. And so, it is appropriate that the Museum of the American Indian is housed in the Customs House. Incidentally, the name Manhattan comes from Manna-hata, a Munsee word for “the place where we get bows.”

Tour route of the walking tour, start in front of the Custom’s House and Bowling Green Park.

We are starting at this point because where the Customs’ House now stands was Fort Amsterdam, constructed 400 years ago in 1625. This was the first settlement the Dutch made on the island of Manhattan, although the colonists had first settled in 1624 on Nutten Island, which we know as Governor’s Island. Prior to that, in 1609, Henry Hudson claimed the area for the Dutch in his ship the Halve Maen (Half Moon). In 1614 the Dutch built their first settlement upstate in Albany, which they called Beverwijck. And that name gives a clue as to why the Dutch were here. Beaver pelts, which were made into water-proof felted-fur hats for Europeans. Albany was the center of the beaver trade, but the Dutch needed a protected deep-water port such as this to ship the goods to Amsterdam. In return the Dutch sent back goods and supplies for the colonists and to trade with the native population.

Fort Amsterdam, looking north up Broadway. Courtesy New Amsterdam History Center, Mapping Early New York.

At first, Fort Amsterdam was crude, with earthen walls, but eventually it contained a church, a garrison, a house for the director, a prison, and a warehouse. It was used to house the entire population during Kieft’s War in 1643, when the Lenape counter-attacked the Dutch after a massacre by colonists. 

In 1626, the so called “purchase” of Manhattan occurred. No such deed exists, but Peter Schagen wrote a letter to the States General saying it was purchased by Peter Minuit on November 5, 1626 for goods and sewant (wampum) worth 60 guilders. Converted in the 19th century to dollars, a historian arrived at the figure of $24. However, the Lenape did not have the same ideas of property ownership as Europeans and most likely saw the agreement as a treaty for mutual use of the area, setting up decades of conflict. By 1655 smallpox and other diseases, along with war, had decimated the native populations.

In 1628, the Dutch started construction on the first windmill on the island near State Street and Battery Place. This was for grinding grain, and a second mill nearby was a sawmill.

Broadway from the fort. Courtesy New Amsterdam History Center, Mapping Early New York.

Broadway itself predates the Dutch by perhaps thousands of years. It was an Indian trail that ran the length of the island and led upstate, called the Wickquasgeck Trail. The Dutch called it de Heere Straat or Gentleman’s Street.

To the east, behind 2 Broadway, is a small alley named Marketfield Street. It used to extend all the way to Broadway, and as the name suggests it was here in this common area where the Dutch established a public market by 1658. Further down on Whitehall Street was a cattle market and open-air slaughterhouse.

Stuyvesant’s house, Whitehall, gave its name to Whitehall Street. Courtesy New Amsterdam History Center, Mapping Early New York.

Before we leave, you might want to take note of the fence around Bowling Green Park. This area was common ground in New Amsterdam. In 1773 it was officially made a park, and in 1771 the English common council erected this cast iron fence. If you run your hands across the top of the posts, you will see that they are roughly chopped off. These posts were capped with crowns and in the park was a statue of King George III on horseback. In 1776, patriots hacked off the crowns and destroyed the statue, melting it down for bullets. 

2) Walk south on Broadway and Whitehall Streets to Bridge Street and turn left. Stop at Bridge and Broad Street. 

Why is this Street named Bridge Street? And why is Broad Street so broad? In the 1640s the Dutch expanded an existing stream and created the first canal in Manhattan. It went from the river to Beaver Street where it branched out to the west. The canal was built to drain a swampy area north of Beaver Street, but also because the Dutch wanted to remake their colony in the New World in the image of their home capital of Amsterdam. First called the Common Ditch, the canal was later named the Heere Graft, or Gentleman’s Canal. It had two wooden bridges crossing it, one here and one at Stone Street. At Marketfield Street there was a dock for unloading goods bound for the market. The canal eventually became an open-air sewer and the English filled it in in 1676.

The Canal. Courtesy New Amsterdam History Center, Mapping Early New York.

View of the canal at the corner of today’s Beaver and Broad Streets. Courtesy New Amsterdam History Center, Mapping Early New York.

3) Cross Broad Street on Pearl St, stop in front of 63 Pearl Street, remains of Governor Lovelace’s Tavern.

This area was excavated in 1979 and the remains of the walls of the Lovelace Tavern were discovered. Lovelace was the second English Governor of New York. So, this is not quite a Dutch house although some Dutch bricks were found by archeologists. Where the yellow stones are set in the pavement are the rough outlines of the Stadt Huys, the Dutch City Hall. It too had been a tavern, built in 1641, and in 1653, when the Dutch were given permission to form a municipal government, General Stuyvesant and the Dutch Council of Burgomasters and Schepens, declared that the City Tavern would henceforth be the City Hall. 

The Studt Huys, or City Hall. Courtesy New Amsterdam History Center, Mapping Early New York.

After the English takeover in 1664 it remained as the City Hall until in 1697, when the Stadt Huys was declared unsafe and so they moved next door to the Lovelace Tavern while a new City Hall was constructed on Wall Street. So, the Lovelace Tavern was for a short time the second City Hall of New York.

The Dutch called this street the Strand, or the wael (riverbank). The river would have been just on the other side of the road, and eventually the Dutch built up a bulkhead from the canal to Hanover Square, and called this de Waal Straat, which does not mean Wall Street. It means Dock Street, which is what the English later called it. This has caused no end of confusion over the years, but the Dutch never called Wall Street by that name. Pearl Street originally referred to just the portion from State Street to Whitehall Street, named for the crushed oyster shells that covered it.

4) Walk up Coenties Slip to South William Street.

Where the school now stands was the House of the Enslaved Workers, built before 1643.  Slavery was introduced into the colony of New Amsterdam in 1627 with the arrival of 22 Africans captured from a Portuguese ship. While most enslaved people were held by private citizens on farms, we know that the Dutch West India Company held 25 (probably only listing adult males) in 1653. Many were initially kept further north around Kips Bay where they did the heavy work of logging and clearing land for farms, but those engaged in work in town lived here in a small house with a garden to grow their own food. In 1664, the arrival of the Gideon with 290 Angolan Slaves greatly expanded the enslaved population of the city. 

House of Enslaved Workers. New Amsterdam History Center, Mapping Early New York.

The Mill Street Synagogue, as it appeared in 1730 on Mill Street (now S. William Street). Source unknown.

To the right, where Luke’s Lobster is, was the first purpose-built synagogue in North America. It was built after the Dutch period in 1730, but by the first Jewish congregation in New Amsterdam, Shearith Israel. They formed in 1654 with the arrival of Asser Levy and 23 Jewish refugees from Brazil. General Stuyvesant at first did not welcome the Jewish emigrants, which led to them petitioning the States General in 1655 for permission to remain and become citizens. The Dutch government agreed, which was an important milestone in establishing the idea of freedom of religion in the New World. Continuing northeast on South William Street you will see some Dutch revival houses built in the early 1900s, but the houses in New Amsterdam would not have been nearly so grand. 

5) Turn right on Mill Lane to Stone Street, stop by Hanover Square and Stone Street.  

Stone Street was originally called Brewers Street (Breuers Straet) further west, and High Street (Hoogh Straet) in this portion. Brewers held a lot of wealth and power in New Amsterdam, as Stuyvesant once complained “one full fourth of the City of New Amsterdam has been turned into taverns.” The brewers petitioned to pave the street and funded it with their own money. In 1658 it became the first paved street in New Amsterdam.

6)  Walk up Pearl Street to the corner of Wall Street. 

We are now on Het Cingel, “the belt.” The Dutch named it after the original outer wall and canal of Amsterdam. Starting at Hanover Square and crossing the city at Wall Street was yes, the defensive wall of the city. In 1653, the Dutch and English were in the midst of the First Anglo-Dutch War (1652-1654). In New England, English troops were amassing and rumors of this reached the small colony of New Amsterdam. Against this backdrop, New Amsterdam formed its first city government. Soon after, on March 13, 1653, an emergency meeting brought together the Director General (Petrus Stuyvesant), his Council, and the Court of Burgomasters and Schepens. The following point was discussed: 

“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 [a type of citizen] 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….” 

The Wall. Courtesy New Amsterdam History Center, Mapping Early New York.

The block house and City Gate [Water Gate], 1674. D.T. Valentine’s Manual of1862, NYC Municipal Library.

Although enslaved workers would most likely have done much of the heavy work, such as cutting and moving the lumber, in April it was ordered that “the citizens without exception, shall work on the constructions… by immediately digging a ditch from the East River to the North River, 4 to 5 feet deep and 11 to 12 feet wide.” This dry ditch would have formed part of the defensive works. The wall was finished by July 28th but not used. The construction of the wall was meant to be a stockade fence, but this proved too expensive and so a sort of plank wall with bulwarks was built instead. At the present intersection of Pearl Street and Wall Street was the Water Gate, allowing passage along the riverbank. Later in the 1600s the English built a market for grains here called the Meal Market. In 1711, the City Council also designated this market as the place for hiring or selling enslaved Africans or Indians. The first slave market in the City.

7) Walk west up Wall Street and think about how short this distance is, less than 2,000 feet river to river. Stop in Front of Federal Hall.

The First Anglo-Dutch war was the reason to build the wall in 1653. But it was also used as a defense against the native population. It was damaged in 1655, during a coordinated attack by several tribes in what was called the Peach War. After this the wall was rebuilt and expanded to include a wing down the Hudson River side.

During the 2nd Anglo-Dutch War, on September 6, 1664, the Dutch colonists surrendered the city to the English, who renamed the city New York. They immediately went about improving the wall, but failed to upkeep it. In 1667, the Treaty of Breda resolved the 2nd Anglo-Dutch War and allowed the English to keep New York, but that was not the end of hostilities. In 1673, during the 3rd Anglo-Dutch War, New York was seized by Dutch privateers. They rebuilt the wall enlarging the bulwarks into two massive stone structures named Hollandia and Zeelandia after their warships. The war ended in 1674, and the Dutch returned the City to the English, but the wall remained.

The Miller Plan of New York, 1695. Reproduced in Stokes Iconography of New York, NYC Municipal Library.

The 1695 Miller Plan shows the layout of the City at that time. Even well into the English era, the Street along it was called “Het Cingel or the City Wall.” The wall was becoming useless though as the City had expanded far beyond it. In 1699, the council passed a resolution to tear down the wall and use the stones to build a new City Hall, here. After the American Revolution this City Hall became the first seat of American government and it is where George Washington was inaugurated. However, that is not this building. That building was demolished in 1812, when the new City Hall was built, and the current Federal Hall was built in 1842 as a custom house and later used as a subtreasury.

Federal Hall, Inauguration of General George Washington, 1789. D.T. Valentine’s Manual of 1849, NYC Municipal Library.

8) Continue along Wall Street to Broadway.

The main gate to the City was on Broadway, with a bulwark and a guardhouse on the east side. Where Trinity Church now stands was the Company Garden. In 1751 church workers digging in the southwest corner of Trinity Churchyard discovered part of the wall, which may have been part of the western bastion known as Oyster Pasty Mount.

Company Garden. Courtesy New Amsterdam History Center, Mapping Early New York.

9) Walk up Broadway to Park Row to Chambers Street. 

Broadway in the Dutch time did not follow its current path, it turned along Park Row to the east. Why? Because a giant swamp from Worth Street to Spring Street blocked the western side of the island. This swamp was later drained by the Canal that gives that Street its name. Park Row was then the lower portion of Bowerie (Bowery), which runs to Astor Place and Stuyvesant Square. Bowerie is Dutch for farm, for along this road were the great Dutch farms that fed the population. After the English takeover Stuyvesant retired to his farm at the end of this road.

Werpoes, a village of the Manhattan Indians, Map III. Published by the Museum of the American Indian, 1912. Courtesy, New York Public Library.

People often think that Wall Street was the border of New Amsterdam, but that was just where they put the wall. The 1653 records of New Amsterdam show that the court was given legislative authority “between the two rivers to the Fresh Water.” This refers to the Collect and Little Collect Ponds, which were in the valley just north of Chambers Street. The Collect Pond (corrupted from the Dutch word Kolch) was the main source of New Amsterdam’s and early New York’s drinking water. Another windmill built by the Dutch was once where the Municipal Building now stands.

Here at Chambers Street, there was one more wall, a stockade fence that ran across the island. The English built it in 1745 to protect the City from the French and it lasted until 1763. It was built here, not just because this was high ground, but because this was still considered the edge of the city. This is also why the African Burial Ground was in the low area below here, outside the wall. But before the African Burial Ground, and before the Dutch, where Foley Square is now, was Werpoes, a Lenape Village, built next to the Collect and Little Collect Ponds.

10) Come inside the Surrogate’s Courthouse and explore the exhibit. 

The City’s Department of Records and Information Services (DORIS) has opened a new exhibit: “New Visions of Old New York.” Created in collaboration with the New Amsterdam History Center, the exhibit features a touchscreen with an interactive 3-D map describing places and people in New Amsterdam. It uses records from the Municipal Archives and Library to illustrate the presence of women, indigenous people and enslaved people.

The exhibit is located in the gallery at 31 Chambers Street and will run throughout 2025. It is open to the public Monday to Friday 9 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. except holidays.

The S.S. United States

Shortly before noon on Wednesday, February 19, 2025, the luxury superliner S.S. United States began its final voyage. With news helicopters hovering overhead and escorted by five tugs, the largest passenger ship ever built in America slowly departed its berth in Philadelphia, bound for Florida’s panhandle. Its last journey will end 180 feet beneath the sea where the great liner will become the world’s largest artificial reef. News media marked the solemn occasion: “The S.S. United States Is Going Down for Good,” read the front-page headline in The New York Times on Friday, February 21, 2025.

The S.S. United States and the S.S. America, New York harbor, April 7, 1963. Department of Marine and Aviation Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

In a striking contrast, more than seventy years ago, the S. S. United States made the front page of the Times on a decidedly happier occasion: “Six Hour Welcome Greets New Liner on First Trip Here.” (June 24, 1952.)  The New York Daily News story that day trumpeted “The Queenly U.S. Gets N.Y.’s Bow.” In their coverage of the event, another of New York’s numerous newspapers, the Daily Mirror, described the scene: “The nation’s new queen of the seas, the superliner United States, yesterday gingerly threaded her way through a harbor clogged with hundreds of shrilling small craft and, under a canopy of helicopters, blimps and planes, majestically eased her white-and-ebony bulk up against her pier after the most tremendous welcome ever accorded a vessel here.”

Menu cover for luncheon aboard the S.S. United States, Pier 86, New York City, August 20, 1952, in honor of the Mayor’s Reception Committee, to commemorate its outstanding performance on the occasion of the arrival of the S.S. United States, in New York Harbor, July 15, 1952. Grover Whalen Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

1952 Sailing Schedule, S.S. United States, Grover Whalen Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

The Daily News story reported that the ship’s Captain, Commodore Harry Manning, speculated that on her upcoming first transatlantic voyage, his new command might make a bid for the transatlantic speed record. As it happened, Manning’s prediction proved exactly correct. On its return from Southampton, England to New York, the giant superliner did indeed break the speed record, and on July 18, 1952, New York City went all-out to celebrate the achievement with a ticker-tape parade.

To research the story of the American superliner and the City’s welcoming event, researchers can turn to Municipal Archives collections. The Mayor Impellitteri records, and the files of the Mayor’s Reception Committee, then under the direction of City Greeter Grover Whelan, are an especially rich resource. In addition, the Department of Ports and Trades photograph collection provides unique visual documentation.

Spectators awaiting arrival of the S. S. United States, Pier 86, United States Line, Hudson River, June 23, 1952. Department of Marine and Aviation photograph collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

By the early 1950s, Whalen had perfected the art of staging a ticker-tape parade. He organized thirty-three parades in just three years from 1949 through 1952. Researchers reviewing collection contents will quickly see that no detail was too small for Whalen and his staff as they planned for the ticker-tape parade, City Hall reception, and luncheon at the Waldorf Astoria Starlight Roof.

S. S. United States docking at Pier 86, Hudson River, July 15, 1952. U. S. Army photograph, Grover Whalen Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

Pier 86, United States Line, Hudson River, June 23, 1952. Department of Marine and Aviation photograph collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Although less voluminous, the subject file for the reception in Mayor Impellitteri’s records also contains informative items. Among them are a transcript of the Mayor’s remarks at the City Hall reception. Printed in a giant font, suitable to be read from a lectern, Impellitteri’s speech praised Commodore Harry Manning, Captain of the ship: “That the United States [ship] deserves all the praise and admiration she has received—both here and abroad—goes without saying. But I submit that there is a human factor within the greatness of the ship which is equally deserving of tribute. A ship, after all, no matter how perfect in mechanical detail is nothing without her caption and crew. It is in recognition of that fact that we gather here today to honor Commodore Harry Manning, Captain of the S.S. United States, and through him, the 1,000-man team which make up his crew.”

The Habitual Hero

Time magazine cover, June 23, 1952. Grover Whalen Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

Mayor Impellitteri continued on to say that this was not Captain Manning’s first time in a ticker-tape parade. Grover Whalen’s very capable assistant Gertrude Lyons prepared a memo with biographical information about Manning for the Mayor’s speech-writers. Her memo detailed an incident in 1929 when Manning, then the first officer on the ship “America,” came upon an Italian freighter sinking in the Atlantic. Manning volunteered to take a lifeboat with seven men across a quarter-mile of raging sea to rescue the half-frozen Italian crewmen. Manning’s action saved 32 men, and upon his return to New York, the City gave him a hero’s welcome with a ticker-tape parade. As Ms. Lyons wrote, “This is but one instance which led to Commodore Manning being referred to as the ‘habitual hero’.”

Commodore Harry Manning and Chief Engineer William Kaiser, S. S. United States, ticker-tape parade, Broadway, July 18, 1952. Mayor’s Reception Committee Photograph, Grover Whalen Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

Menu, luncheon in honor of the Master, Officers and Crew of the S. S. United States, Waldorf Astoria Hotel, July 18, 1952. Grover Whalen Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

The Mayor included the rescue story in his speech, but omitted another significant event detailed in Lyons’ memo. She explained how in 1937 Manning had been on leave from his ship to serve as navigator for Amelia Earhart on her proposed around the world flight. “In Honolulu, the plane skidded on a take-off and cracked up. No one was hurt, but Manning had to return to his ship before the plane could be repaired and the flight resumed without him. This was the flight on which Amelia Earhart lost her life.”

The Reception Committee folders also include copies of two short documents with “Suggested Remarks for Commodore Manning at City Hall” scrawled on the top. “Just a few thoughts for consideration,” Whalen wrote. No detail too small!

Mayor Vincent Impellitteri presents Proclamation to Commander Harry Manning, Captain, S. S. United States, City Hall, July 18, 1952, Mayor’s Reception Committee Photograph, Grover Whalen Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

Sleek as a Shark

Reading Manning’s biography, it is perhaps not surprising that Time magazine featured him on the cover of their June 23, 1952, issue; a copy is in the Whalen collection. In ten lavishly illustrated pages the news magazine told the full story of America’s new “Luxury Liner.” As described in the article, “The superliner is the dreamboat of William Francis Gibbs, 65, crack naval architect and famed designer of World War II’s Liberty ships. Newport News Shipbuilding & Drydock Co. made it come true.”

The story explained how Congress appropriated $42 million of the total $79 million cost of the ship not only to enhance the country’s prestige, but also to bolster its military readiness. During wartime, the ship’s 241,000-horse-power steam engines could move 14,000 troops, with equipment, halfway around the world, nonstop, without refueling. “For all her size, the hull is sleek as a shark to help her outrun submarines.”

Brochure cover, S.S. United States, July 1952, Grover Whalen Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

Brochure interior, S.S. United States, July 1952, Grover Whalen Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

Brochure interior, S.S. United States, July 1952, Grover Whalen Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

During peacetime, the ship could transport 2,000 passengers and 1,000 crew in air-conditioned comfort, the first ocean liner with that amenity. Federal requirements necessary for the potential naval use of the vessel created challenges for interior designers Dorothy Marckwald and Anne Urquart. Using 100% fireproof materials, their interiors were hailed as a masterpiece of what is now called “mid-century modern.”

The S.S. United States went on to cross the Atlantic 800 times, but the 1952 Time story correctly foresaw the downward trajectory of transatlantic travel by ocean liner. “All liners are waging a losing battle against the airlines. Five years ago, only 30% of transatlantic travel was by air. This year it will reach about 40%.”

S.S. United States, New York Harbor, July 15, 1952. The liner’s remarkable speed during the transatlantic journey peeled the paint from its hull. Mayor’s Reception Committee Photograph, Grover Whalen Papers, NYC Municipal Archives.

In 1969, the United States Lines took their flagship vessel out of service and moored it in Norfolk, Virginia. It later berthed at Philadelphia until its final voyage that began last week. The  S.S. United States Conservancy, a non-profit, bought the vessel in 2011. The Conservancy is headed by Susan Gibbs, granddaughter of the ship’s designer William Francis Gibbs. Having failed to find a permanent home for the liner, the Conservancy agreed to the planned sinking of the ship to serve as a coral reef. The Conservancy is now planning a land-based S.S. United States museum.

It is unlikely that any of the thousands of spectators at the parade for Commodore Manning and the crew of the S.S. United States in 1952 gave much thought to the fate of the great liner when it reached the end of its useful life. But if they had, perhaps they would like the idea of its new role as habitat for sea creatures.

Herman Melville’s New York

Map bounded by Bowling Green Row, Marketfield Street, Beaver Street, William Street, Old Slip, South Street, Whitehall Street, State Street, Plate 1, 1852. William Perris, civil engineer and surveyor. Courtesy New York Public Library.

The name Herman Melville may conjure visions of adventures on the high seas, the “watery part of the world” in the author’s parlance, but Melville was very much a New Yorker for most of his life. He was born Herman Melvill in 1819 in a rooming house at 6 Pearl Street, the third of eight children. The house is long gone, but an illustration of Pearl Street found in D.T. Valentine’s manuals shows the house in 1858. His mother, Maria Gansevoort, had him baptized in the Calvinist Dutch Reformed church she attended. The Gansevoorts were a long-established Dutch family and Maria’s father, Peter Gansevoort, had been a decorated colonel in the Continental Army. In 1777, Peter Gansevoort at the age of only 28, took command of Fort Stanwix and led it through a siege by British forces. It was the only American fort not to surrender to the British during the American Revolution. In 1812, a new fort was named in honor of him, at the foot of today’s Gansevoort Street.

View of Pearl Street looking from State Street, 1858. A. Weingartner’s Lithography, for D.T. Valentine's Manual of 1859. NYC Municipal Library. Herman Melville was born in a rooming house at 6 Pearl Street in 1819, the third of eight children. It still stood in 1858, the 2nd house from the right.

Meville’s father, Allan Melvill (the family added the “e” after Allan’s death), was a merchant in the bustling New York-to-Europe trade boom following the War of 1812. Mercantile New York offered great rewards and great risk, and the family fortunes soon rose and fell. Allan borrowed money heavily from the Gansevoorts for his trading ventures and to raise the family’s standard of living. In quick succession he moved his family to their own house at 55 Cortlandt Street in 1821, then to 33 Bleecker Street in 1824, and then to the fashionable address of 675 Broadway in 1828. There is scant record of this house, but it probably resembled the Merchant’s House Museum, which still stands nearby on East 4th Street. It is hard to over-estimate the exclusiveness of the neighborhood at this time, centered around Lafayette Street, one block over. Their neighbors in the 9th Ward would have included Stuyvesants, Astors, Roosevelts, Delanos, and Vanderbilts.

Record of Assessments, 9th Ward, 1829. NYC Municipal Archives. This assessment shows that Allan Melvill did not own his house at 675 Broadway, it was his personal estate that was valued at $4,000. Allan was living above his means to be close to New York’s gentry.

Melvill was very devoted to his children and especially concerned with giving the boys a good education, but he was financially over-extended—the household was lavish, and they employed many servants. In 1825 Herman attended the New York Male High School and then in 1829 he transferred to the more prestigious Columbia Grammar and Preparatory School. After the last of Herman’s seven siblings was born in 1830, the Gansevoorts cut off Melvill financially. He quickly went bankrupt and was briefly placed in a debtor’s prison. Going into the fur business, he relocated the family to Albany. Enrolled in the Albany Academy, Herman was praised as a bright scholar, but he withdrew in the fall of 1831, perhaps because of the family finances.

South from Maiden Lane, 1828. George Hayward lithographer, for D.T. Valentine’s Manual of 1854. NYC Municipal Library. 

“Added to these reminiscences my father, now dead, had several times crossed the Atlantic on business affairs, for he had been an importer in Broad-street. And of winter evenings in New York, by the well-remembered sea-coal fire in old Greenwich-street, he used to tell my brother and me of the monstrous waves at sea, mountain high; of the masts bending like twigs...”
— Herman Melville, Redburn

In December 1831, Allan fell ill with a high fever after traveling in an open carriage during a winter storm and died on January 28, 1832. His death again threw the family into a desperate situation. Oldest son Gansevoort Melvill took over the fur business and Herman, age 14, found a job as a bank clerk. In 1834, Gansevoort took him from the bank to run his fur store, as he could not afford staff, but by 1835 Herman was again able to return to his studies of the classics. The Panic of 1837 shattered the family’s fortunes once again, and Gansevoort filed for bankruptcy. He moved back to New York City to study law and Herman took a job as a schoolteacher for a semester. By 1839, Herman, always entranced by his father’s tales of Europe and stories from relatives who had taken to the sea, decided to ship out. He signed on to the St. Lawrence, a merchant ship out of New York, as a “boy” (an untrained hand) for a voyage to Liverpool and back. This brief introduction to the sea and the experience of the slums of 19th-century England would become the basis of his fourth novel, Redburn: His First Voyage.

Coffee House Slip and New York Coffee House. George Hayward, lithographer for D.T. Valentine’s Manual of 1856. NYC Municipal Library. “...somewhere near ranges of grim-looking warehouses, with rusty iron doors and shutters, and tiled roofs; and old anchors and chain-cables piled on the walk. Old-fashioned coffee-houses, also, much abound in that neighborhood, with sun-burnt sea-captains going in and out, smoking cigars, and talking about Havana, London, and Calcutta.” -Herman Melville, Redburn

Upon his return, Herman again tried teaching but left when the school failed to pay his salary. His eyes turned to the sea once more. Gansevoort suggested he try his hand on a whaler and took him to New Bedford. There they found a whaling boat, the Acushnet, that would take him on as a green hand. They set sail on January 3, 1841, for what could be a four-year voyage. It was not entirely unusual for a young middle-class American man to go to sea and Melville might have been inspired by the memoir Two Years Before the Mast, by Richard Henry Dana, which was published in 1840. After hunting whales in the Bahamas and docking in Rio de Janeiro, they rounded Cape Horn and explored the South Pacific. Off the coast of Chile, they met up with a boat from Nantucket, where William Henry Chase gave Melville a copy of his father Owen’s account of the sinking of the ship Essex by a sperm whale.

Peck Slip, New York, 1850. George Hayward lithographer, for D.T. Valentine’s Manual of 1857. NYC Municipal Library. 

““Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see? – Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep.” ”
— Herman Melville, Moby Dick

By the summer of 1842, Melville had tired of the whaling life, and he jumped ship in the Marquesas Islands. For four weeks he lived with a tribe in the Typee Valley on the island of Nukahiva just as it was falling under French rule. The Nuka Hiva still practiced cannibalism, but they treated Melville warmly and he was fascinated by their customs including communal ownership of property. Melville left the island on another whaling boat out of Australia but was thrown in jail in Tahiti for his role in a mutiny. He escaped in short order and wandered the Tahitian islands as a beachcomber until climbing aboard another whaler for a six-month cruise that ended in the Hawaii Islands. There he signed onto a US Navy ship that rounded the Horn again and returned him to Boston in 1844.

He came home bubbling with stories and a changed man. An educated young man from New York’s genteel classes, he had lived and worked amongst common seamen, from all races and parts of the globe, had lived amongst the people of Polynesia and had seen what colonization was doing to their cultures. At the urging of his family, he started writing. He stretched his month on Nukahiva into Typee: A Peep at Polynesian Life. Although presented as a true memoir, in his romantic retelling the narrator spends four months amongst the cannibals. Gansevoort Melville, by this time a successful orator and lawyer, was on his way to London in the diplomatic service. On the advice of a literary agent, he took Herman’s manuscript to London and arranged for the publication of simultaneous English and American editions of the book in early 1846. Herman Melville became an overnight literary sensation, but his success was soured by the sudden death of Gansevoort in London. Their brother Allen, who had worked with Gansevoort in their firm at 16 Pine Street, now took over as his literary agent.

Record of Assessments, 17th Ward, 1848. NYC Municipal Archives. Herman Melville was able to purchase his and Lizzie’s first house at 103 Fourth Avenue with the proceeds from his first two books. 

In 1847, Melville published a sequel, Omoo, which did well enough that he felt confident to marry Elizabeth Shaw, daughter of a prominent Massachusetts Judge, Lemuel Shaw. They started their marriage in New York City, in a house he purchased at 103 Fourth Avenue, valued at $6,000. But after a series of literary gatherings in Pittsfield, Massachusetts with Nathaniel Hawthorne and Oliver Wendell Holmes, amongst others, they borrowed money from Judge Shaw in 1850 to build their own house there, Arrowhead. By 1850, Melville was already at work on his magnum opus Moby Dick, which he finished at Arrowhead and published in 1851. Hawthorne thought the book showed depths to Melville’s writing not previously displayed, but most reviewers were unkind, and the book was a commercial failure. After his next book Pierre again left reviewers perplexed, some began to question his sanity. After more commercial and critical failures, he published his final book, The Confidence-Man, in 1857 and took off for a tour of Europe and the Holy Land. On his return he tried the lecture circuit and started writing poetry. Finally, in 1863 he swapped his Pittsfield house for his brother’s house at 104 East 26th Street and the Melvilles returned to New York for good.

Fort Gansevoort or old White Fort. George Hayward lithographer, for D.T. Valentine’s Manual of 1850. NYC Municipal Library. Fort Gansevoort, named after Melville’s maternal grand-father Peter Gansevoort, was located by the Hudson River where the Whitney Museum now sits.

In 1866 he found a government job as a customs inspector. Stationed at a dock at the end of Gansevoort Street, he stayed for 19 years, perhaps protected in his position by an admirer of his writing, future president Chester A. Arthur, then a customs official. Melville was honest in his job but suffered from both physical and mental ailments. He had nervous breakdowns, drank heavily, and may have been abusive to his wife Lizzie. In May 1867, Lizzie’s brother arranged for her to leave Melville, but she refused. In September, their son Malcolm, aged 18, went to his bedroom after quarreling with his father and shot himself in the head. Although some contemporaneous accounts reported the death as accidental, the coroner inquest ruled it a suicide. The Melvilles somehow moved on.

Death certificate for Malcolm Melville, 1867. NYC Municipal Archives.

Herman Melville outlived all but one of his siblings. His brother Allan died in 1872, but he would visit with his youngest brother Thomas, a retired ship captain who was now the Governor of the Seaman’s Snug Harbor in Staten Island. Thomas died in 1884, their sister Frances the following year. Around this time, Lizzie received enough of an inheritance that Herman was able finally to retire in 1886. That same year, their remaining son Stanwix died of tuberculosis in San Francisco.

1890 Police Census, 104 E. 26th Street, 11th AD, First ED. NYC Municipal Archives. Herman Melville is shown living with his daughter Elizabeth “Bessie” Melville, wife Elizabeth (curiously called here Emilie although she was known by Lizzie), and presumably an Irish maid, Mary Brennan. Even more curious are the ages given of the occupants, in 1890 Melville would have been 71, not 59 and the rest of the ages of the Melville household all seem to be from ca. 1880 too.

Melville may have found some kind of peace in his final years. He collected artwork, an interest since childhood, visited book shops and joined the New York Society Library. He remained somewhat detached from the world. He apparently never voted, there being no record of him in voter registration books in the Municipal Archives. He showed up in the 1890 census living at home with his wife and their daughter Elizabeth (Bessie), and a single maid. In July 1891, he saw a doctor for trouble with his heart. He died of a heart attack on September 28, 1891, and was buried in Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx. His wife was buried beside him in 1905.

Contrary to some popular belief, the New York Times obituary did not misspell his name, it misspelled the name of what became his most famous book. It reads in its entirety: “Herman Melville died yesterday at his residence, 104 East Twenty-sixth Street, this city, of heart failure, aged seventy-two. He was the author of Typee, Omoo, Mobie Dick, and other sea-faring tales, written in earlier years. He leaves a wife and two daughters, Mrs. M. B. Thomas and Miss Melville.” As embarrassingly brief as this September 29th notice was, it was followed up on October 2nd with a more appreciative article: “There has died and been buried in this city, during the current week, at an advanced age, a man who is so little known, even by name, to the generation now in the vigor of life that only one newspaper contained an obituary account of him, and this was but of three or four lines. Yet forty years ago the appearance of a new book by Herman Melville was esteemed a literary event, not only throughout his own country, but so far as the English-speaking race extended.”

Death certificate for Herman Melville, September 28, 1891. NYC Municipal Archives. He was 72 years old, and was listed as being a resident for 28 years at 104 E. 26th Street. Although for most of that time he made his living as a customs inspector, he retired in 1885 and returned to writing, his occupation was given as “Author.”

A century after his birth Melville’s works were rediscovered and in the 1920s a new work, Billy Budd, was published from a manuscript Lizzie had saved in a breadbox. By the 1930s he was part of the American literary canon. So much so that, in 1938, the WPA Federal Writers’ Project book New York Panorama called him a giant along with Walt Whitman: “These men—Whitman and Melville—were of another breed, another stature; and they proclaimed themselves men of Manhattan. They came from the same Dutch-English Stock, bred by that Empire State.... they were archetypes of the city’s character-to-be.”

“A True and Perfect Inventory” - The Municipal Archives Collection of 18th and 19th-century Estate Records, Part One

Lists of people’s possessions when they died—pretty dry stuff, right? Well, the files in the Municipal Archives’ collection of estate assets from 1786 to 1859 may be brittle with age, but the glimpses they offer into Manhattan life from the era of George Washington’s presidency through the runup to the Civil War are hardly dull. Remarkably rich with detail, these records simultaneously remind us of how different—and yet how familiar—New York City life was 200 years ago.

Home of John Clendening in Bloomingdale, D. T. Valentine, 1863 Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York. NYC Municipal Archives.

A winding road back to 31 Chambers Street

The estate records came from the files of the New York County Surrogate’s Court. Generally known as Probate Court, New York is one of only two states that uses the name Surrogate’s Court for the courts that handle the disposition of estates (and orphans). When the head of a household died, the court assigned appraisers to visit the decedent’s home, make a room-by-room list of all possessions, and assign a monetary value to each item. From chamber pot to bank stock, from 25 cents of old lumber to a bear-skin great coat and from “1 six pence 1652” to a copy of Gardner’s Lectures on Steam Engines—it was all written down, attested to by the appraisers, and countersigned by the estate’s executors. The sale or distribution of the assets, by terms of a will or by the decision of the Surrogate, was a separate process from the creation of the asset lists.

1838 estate of William Barlas. Estate Inventories. NYC Municipal Archives.

These 11,000 records took a circuitous route from the Surrogate’s Court record room on the fifth floor of 31 Chambers Street to their current home in the Municipal Archives. In the 1970s, history professor Leo Herskowitz added the records to his “Historic Documents Collection,” at Queens College. Upon his retirement, he transferred the records to the Queens Borough Public Library. They were finally reclaimed by the Municipal Archives in the early 1990s.

The estate files illuminate so many aspects of New York life during the first century of the republic that it’s hard to summarize their historic value concisely. Instead, let’s put ourselves in the shoes of five hypothetical scholars studying different themes and see how these records might bear upon their research.

This week, For the Record looks at the themes Material culture: the personal possessions of New Yorkers and Investment choices in early America.  Next week, in Part Two, the themes of Enslaved people in New York City, Tools of the trade: artisans and shopkeepers, and Booksellers and personal libraries, will be examined.

Material culture: the personal possessions of New Yorkers

What goods were available in Manhattan shops 200 years ago, and what did New Yorkers buy? Items offered for sale can be found in the estate assets of deceased businessmen and shopkeepers, which often included detailed lists of the contents of their shops or factories. And regardless of age or occupation, most estate inventories listed personal possessions—often to extraordinary levels of detail—for the poor, the wealthy, and everyone in between.

A rare example where we have images of a large house in Upper Manhattan, as well as a detailed description of its contents, is in the estate record of John Clendening (1752-1836), a wealthy importer with a mansion at what is now Columbus Avenue around West 104th Street. Clendening’s home survived until the early 20th century. His estate inventory provides a room-by-room list of furnishings from the original owner of a large house dating to the earliest decades of the republic.

The furnishings are impressive more for their completeness and the way they can evoke a bygone era than for their elegance or value: parlor items include an easy chair, “old plated candle sticks,” and a “Mahogany Side Board (old).” 

Contents of a room in John Clendening’s Bloomingdale mansion. Estate Inventory Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

A remarkable estate of a different sort was that of James Tredwell, from 1808. Tredwell’s assets consisted of the most modest of household goods, none valued at more than a dollar or two each. Yet the heading of his inventory record tells us that James Tredwell was “a blackman,” and that he owned “One half of a house at the head of Jews Alley.” The city directory for 1804 confirms that James Tredwell, laborer, lived at Gibb’s Alley (also known as Jews Alley and the home of the Portuguese Synagogue; later called Mill Street and now part of South William Street). The story of how a Black New Yorker acquired property in the heart of the city decades before slavery was outlawed in the state is a worthy scholarly topic.

James Tredwell’s 1808 estate inventory, page 1. Estate Inventory Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

James Tredwell’s 1808 estate inventory, page 2. Estate Inventory Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Perhaps no more vivid example can be found of how our era differs from the century when these estate records were created than the brief inventory of the estate of Robert Barnes from 1828. Barnes owned household furniture appraised at just $10, a horse and wagon worth $72, and a house valued at $200 at the corner of 6th Avenue and 8th Street. But his assets also included a cellar of ice valued at $550, more than twice the value of his house! The inventory was made in May, so the ice had survived the warmth of Spring and was ready to be monetized for its cooling potential in the summer of 1828.

Robert Barnes’s furniture, house, and cellar full of ice. Estate Inventories. NYC Municipal Archives.

There were still farms on Manhattan Island in the 1820s. Samson Benson, heir to a farm in what is now Harlem and the upper reaches of Central Park, owned an array of farming implements, animals and produce: wagons, ploughs and harrows, a sorrel horse, three cows, and “6 fat hogs,” and quantities of buckwheat, potatoes, and oats. He also owned an oyster rake, evocative of the brackish water that still flowed nearby.

Estate Inventory Samson Benson. Estate Inventories. NYC Municipal Archives.

Investment choices in early America

Investing money to make more money was certainly an option available to New York City residents of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. The portfolios of wealthy New Yorkers as revealed in their estate appraisals included stocks and bonds, but these tended to be for a narrow set of industries compared to today’s stock market offerings. Those who could afford to often invested in transportation infrastructure: turnpike companies, canal companies, and railroads. Insurance companies and bank stocks were also common, but periodic financial crises and the lack of a Federal Reserve to step in meant that many estate records list bank stocks with an annotation such as “bank failed” or “of doubtful value.” Direct and sizeable person-to-person loans were very common, often with real estate as the collateral. Interest rates of 6-7% were typical in the 1820s-1850s.

A diverse portfolio of investments in the 1845 estate of Janet Barlas, page 1. Estate Inventories. NYC Municipal Archives.

A diverse portfolio of investments in the 1845 estate of Janet Barlas, page 2. Estate Inventories. NYC Municipal Archives.

Janet Barlas owned shares in banks, canal companies, insurance companies, and The Manhattan Company. The latter was the holding company founded in 1799 by Aaron Burr and an all-star lineup of investors, nominally to provide a reliable water supply to Manhattan but in reality to circumvent Alexander Hamilton’s banking monopoly. The Manhattan Company still exists—its current incarnation is JP Morgan Chase.

Some financial assets that look like curiosities to contemporary eyes appear in these estate inventories. For example, appraisers of the 1836 estate of Gurdon S. Mumford, who had been private secretary to Benjamin Franklin and a United States congressman but later fell on hard times, listed only two assets: certificates entitling Mumford to proceeds from the “French Indemnity” and the “Neapolitan Indemnity.” These artifacts of maritime history emerged from the taking of American ships and the property of U.S. citizens in the early 19th century during disputes with France and with the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, respectively. If you don’t remember any such wars from your history classes, you’re not alone. These were quasi-wars as American naval power was tested by European kingdoms. When the disputes were eventually settled, indemnifying payments were agreed upon and apparently U.S. citizens could either place claims, or make investments based on the scheduled payments, which came in installments over a period of years.

Gurdon S. Mumford’s estate appraisal listing shares of the French and Neapolitan Indemnities, page 1. Estate Inventories. NYC Municipal Archives.

Gurdon S. Mumford’s estate appraisal listing shares of the French and Neapolitan Indemnities, page 2. Estate Inventories. NYC Municipal Archives.

New York City’s role as a center of the maritime industry appears in many contexts in estate records, from the modest possessions of sailors who died at sea to shares of ships. For example, at his death in 1809 Eliab Burgis’s net worth consisted entirely of his share in four sailing ships.

Eliab Burgis’s estate inventory. Estate Inventories. NYC Municipal Archives.

Readers are welcome to explore the updated collection inventory in the Collection Guide. Next week, in Part Two, For the Record will explore the themes of Enslaved people in New York City, Tools of the trade: artisans and shopkeepers, and Booksellers and personal libraries that can be explored in the collection.