Leslie's recent post on the Italian marionette theater reminds me that research can be rewarding--a useful reminder, because sometimes one's best efforts bring only moderate success, or worse. I discovered this anew while investigating the next stop on our continuing tour of the Brooklyn Collection's manuscripts, the A.M.E. Zion Church Collection. This unassuming handful of mortgages and receipts, while superficially uninteresting, actually provides us with rare evidence of the activities of one of the earliest black churches in Williamsburgh. But finding further information on the history of the church and its trustees proved difficult.

Black Population Distribution, Brooklyn, 1863

In the early 1850s, the Burgh was on the brink of consolidation into greater Brooklyn. (A neglected corner of our web site called Our Brooklyn provides a short history of Williamsburg.) According to our finding aid, the AME Zion Churches were established by black Methodists in reaction to the racism of the larger Methodist community and its unwillingness to take an organized stand against slavery.  Church members were active abolitionists and were "rumored to have used some of their church locations as ... Underground Railroad stations. The church to which these documents relate was located on North Second St near Union Avenue in Williamsburg, a neighborhood inhabited by numerous African Americans after the abolition of slavery in 1827."  The population map above compiled by June Koffi and Rioghan Kirchner shows the black population of Brooklyn a few years later--1863--still with a significant concentration in Williamsburgh.

Among the individuals who were signatories to mortgages were Oliver Fields, Peter Lee (Rector), Benjamin Portland, Major West, and Thomas Worlds. Lemuel Richardson, one of the founders of the Williamsburgh Bank, was also involved. I decided to try to find out more about some of these people. Where exactly did they live? What work did they do?  Who were their families?

List of the church's trustees in 1851 and 1855

OLIVER FIELDS--In the Williamsburgh City Directories, an individual by the name of Oliver Field* (the asterisk marking him as a person of color) is listed as a "Laborer," living at 81 North 4th St in 1848-9. In the 1860 census he is 47 years old. Although no specific address is given, the local post office is "Wmsburgh NY". Oliver is living with Jane, aged 32, and a number of children--Thomas, 18, Isabella, 10, Lidia, 4, William, 2 and Oliver, 15. The immediate neighbors are also black, bearing family names Wilson and Raymond;  their jobs include seaman, porter and waiter. And there the story more or less starts and finishes, except for one mention of an Oliver Fields in a Brooklyn Daily Eagle article about a brutal stabbing in Battle Row. The witness, Thomas Fields (perhaps Oliver's son) says, "Rogers [the victim] was on the sidewalk, my aunt called me in, and when I came out the crowd was at No. 2's door...Oliver Fields (probably referring to his brother Oliver Jr.) and John Paterson were there..."

THOMAS WORLDS is listed in the 1850-51 Williamsburgh Directory as a "carman", and in the 1860 census as a laborer, born in New York around 1822. He lives with Mary J. (31), Rachel A. (7) Stephen W. (4), and Rachael (66). The whole family is listed as black. World's Civil War draft registration (his name spelled Wurles) describes him as a cartman, living on North 6th St. Now, strangely, in 1870 a Thomas Worlds in Newtown, Queens is still living with a Mary J. --but now the couple is listed as white! Was this an unforseen effect of moving from Brooklyn to Queens? We will never know!

BENJAMIN PORTLAND or PORTLEN, laborer, lived on North 4th and North 6th Streets. Like Fields above, Portland seems to have found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. A police jotter article dated 1860 (under the heading "Practical Amalgamation" and written in the highly offensive language of the time,) places him in a "notoriously bad 'crib''' at the foot of Leonard Street during a police raid. Exactly what the people in the house at the time were accused of, aside from simply being there together, is not stated. 

All three men are named among others in a Court Notices published in May 1855 as defendents in a suit brought by Warren and William Mitchell against the Trustees of the African Methodist Episcopal Church in the Village of Williamsburgh. The Church had defaulted on its mortgage, and the mortgage holders felt that it was time "something should be done," according to our documents. 

A history of the AME Zion Church credits Rev. R. H. Stitt with improving the dire financial situation of the Williamsburgh church in the 1880s. After spending a year  "repairing the church, paying incidental expenses, and raising the interest on the great debt that burdens [it], he was removed to the Fleet St Church, where he preached with...phenomenal success."

Churches come and go--they grow, wither, amalgamate and separate.  Clearly, teasing out a complete history of the Williamsburgh AME Zion Church is a no job for an amateur--so beyond this I'll leave it to the real historians!  

Avid followers of the Brooklyn Collection's activities over the last several years --we know you are out there--may be familiar with a web site by the name of Brooklyn in the Civil War, funded by an LSTA grant and created by Brooklyn Public Library staff. This week I'd like to dust off one of the collections at the core of that site, the Letters of James W. Vanderhoef.

A new finding aid for the letters, containing a few nuggets of information recently mined from online sources, can now be accessed via our web site, and the biographical note is reproduced for you here:

"Sources of information on the life of the author of these letters are few. His appearances in census records are only occasional; military records provide a richer lode, but they stop around 1866; and City Directories yield but little information.  For some events, the letters themselves provide our only source to date.

James Wilson Vanderhoef was born around 1837 in New York, to Peter S. and Mary Vanderhoef. Peter S. Vanderhoef was born in New Jersey around 1795 and served in the 1st Reg’t. (Dodd’s) NJ Militia in the War of 1812 in the rank of Private. Peter is listed in the 1850 census and in the Williamsburgh directories as a “carrier” or “Letter carrier.” In 1853-4 the family lived at 511 Grand St, moving to 62 Eighth St (Eastern District) by 1856. In one of the final letters dated 1865 he is reported as having died. Mary Vanderhoef too was of New Jersey origin.  The family included a daughter, Caroline born around 1840, and the married sister, Mary Ann (Molly) Guillan, to whom the letters are addressed.

Letter written on battlefield, 1st Battle of Bull Run, July 21, 1861

Like his father, James entered upon a military career.  Described as 5 ft 7 inches tall, with fair hair, a light complexion and blue eyes, at the age of 16 he enlisted as a musician, joining the N.Y 1st Artillery Reg’t,  Co. B,  during the War with Mexico.  

On 6 Sept. 1861 he re-enlisted for a period of three years “or war” with the 45th Reg’t (German Rifles) N.Y.S.V. at the rank of 1st Sergeant. The regiment saw action in several battles, including Cross Keys, 2nd Bull Run, Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg, after which 224 men were reported dead or missing—among them James W. Vanderhoef. Vanderhoef's notes written on the battlefield at 1st Bull Run can be seen above--click on the letter for a transcription.

Pickett's Charge, Battle of Gettysburg

On April 24th 1862 Vanderhoef was promoted to 2nd Lieutenant and then again to 1st Lieutenant on Sept 1 of that year.  On May 11, 1863 he was promoted to Captain, Co. E. It was at the Battle of Gettysburg on July 1st, 1863 that he was captured and taken prisoner, being held at Libby Prison and other camps. According to the Regimental Descriptive Book, he was returned to his regiment in an exchange on May 13th, 1865.

 Libby Prison

A note dated 1892 confirms that from June 8, 1863 to June 30, 1865 Vanderhoef held the rank of Captain, after which  the position ceased to exist “by reason of the consolidation of  the 45 and 58 NY Vols.” A report of May 16th 1865, a few days after the exchange, reports him “sick.” 

Yet another Register of Enlistments places Vanderhoef back in uniform as of Nov 13, 1866, when he signed up under a Capt. Quimby for a further three years in the regular army.  By this time he is 30, a seasoned soldier—and according to his letters, a married man, having at last married his “pett” Jenny (a marriage apparently disapproved of by some of his friends.)  Yet despite this hopeful start, the future that Vanderhoef imagined in one of his letters as a Commissioned Officer in the Regular Army, seems not to have come to pass. The record seems to speak of a desertion, on Feb 3, 1867. And indeed, by the time of the 1870 census he has, perhaps even literally, gone underground; for there is a James Vanderhoef age 32, born in New York, residing in Little Cottonwood, in the Salt Lake territory of Utah, occupation described as “works in mines.”

To date we have no further information."

We'll tell you all about it later, but for now, here are digitized directories for 1856-1880, with more to follow! Spread the word!

It has recently been my pleasure to arrange and describe a small collection of photographs and papers that belonged to Brooklyn's longtime congressman, Emanuel Celler. These items--principally photographs and laws written by Celler and framed along with the Presidential pen used to sign them--as far as we know came from his apartment just across the road from the library, on Prospect Park West. For those unfamiliar with Celler and his work, allow me to plagiarize from my own finding aid:

Sumner Ave, Brooklyn

"Emanuel Celler was born on May 6, 1888 in a frame house on Sumner Avenue near Floyd St in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, the third of four children. His father owned a “whisky rectifying” business, but when it failed the elder Celler began working as a wine salesman. Emanuel graduated from Boys’ High School in 1906, and after his father’s death took over his wine route, while at the same time studying law at Columbia University. In 1914 he married Stella Baar. The couple had two daughters, one of whom suffered from cerebral palsy. Stella Baar Celler died in 1966.

Emanuel and Stella Baar Celler

 In 1922 Celler was asked if he would like to be the Democratic party’s nominee for Congress in the 10th District, which had thus far never sent a Democrat to Congress. Celler campaigned hard and won the election by just over 3,111 votes, remaining in Congress for fifty years until Elizabeth Holzman, 53 years his junior, beat him in the primary of 1972. Celler’s tenure in Congress endured through nine presidencies. An active and feisty legislator, he devoted himself to the struggle for civil rights legislation, helping to craft the landmark Civil Rights act of 1964. He was also particularly interested in antitrust laws and was a forceful voice in reforming exclusionary immigration laws. His battles on this front culminated in the Hart-Celler Law of 1965 which eliminated national origin as a basis for exclusion. During the 1940s he worked to allow victims of the Holocaust to enter the U.S., castigating as “cold and cruel” the immigration policy of the day. He was also a vocal opponent of McCarthysim. Celler served as Chair of the House Judiciary Committee from 1949 to 1973. A strong supporter of Israel, he was honored by several Jewish organizations, receiving an honorary doctorate from Yeshiva University. Brooklyn College also conferred upon him an honorary Doctor of Laws degree.

In later years Celler lived at 9 Prospect Park West. After retiring from the House the former Congressman remained busy, speaking on the many issues that had occupied him through his years in Congress. He died at the age of 92 on January 15, 1981."

Emanuel Celler (right), New York City Mayor John Lindsay (center) and an unknown third man.

There were other sides to Celler, though, that don't come through in the biographical sketches. He was a dedicated amateur pianist and opera lover. And he took careful note of amusing anecdotes and aphorisms--some of them even slightly risque--to amuse his friends or possibly include in his speeches. Two tiny notebooks, one an appointment diary dated 1935, the other with the print almost worn off from use, at one time a booklet for telephone numbers, contain these inky nuggets written in a minuscule, careful hand. A couple of sheets of notepaper headed "House of Representatives" are folded into the pages. I transcribe here a few of the notes that are repeatable on a public library web site.

Ingratitude to her great men is the mark of strong peoples--Plutarch.

Burlesque--As a lad of fifteen father refused to allow to go to Burlesque. The more he objected, the more desirous I became. Finally I got together some cents and doing odd chores and went to a burlesque show. There I saw something I should never have seen--my father.

Oscar Wilde told story of a horse thief during his lecture tour of U.S. It was a cowboy town. Jury deliberated long. Finally came with the verdict "Guilty as charged." Judge says to Jury, "You are correct but tardy. What took you so long? We strung up the prisoner an hour ago."

Ice on doorstep. Act of God was the defence. Jurymen said Act of God impossible in Brooklyn.

Sun never sets upon British Empire. Why? God wishes to keep an eye on the rascals.

British are like squids retreating in a cloud of ink.

Consistency is hobgoblin of small minds=Emerson

We always want something better like the man condemned to be hung who wanted the luxury of being shot.

"My ancestors came over on the Mayflower."---"Mine came over when they had stricter immigration laws."

Never run after your hat. Someone is sure to bring it to you.

Irish immigrant writes back home. "Great country. Not only am I pulling down a Protestant Church but I'm being paid to do it."

Brandeis: "I am sorry I was born a Jew." This caused consternation. Then he said, "If I had had a choice I would have chosen to be a Jew."

The score says it all--Celler was a serious pianist.

Celler comes across in these notebooks as irreverent and funny: in them he took a little --a very little, if you consider his amazing record of fifty years in Congress--time out from his role as a productive legislator who worked hard to improve the lot of his constituents and the nation as a whole. A notebook that has been rubbed raw in a man's pocket gives you a peculiar sense of intimacy. And that is all a part of the attraction of manuscript collections.

For the full finding aid click here, and if you wish to see the collection be sure to make an appointment by calling 718 230 2762 during our open hours.

Brooklynology is pleased to welcome guest blogger Garry R. Osgood. Garry is a software developer and web designer, who potters as a recreational historian of things Brooklyn.

In March 1893, Frederick Law Olmsted's friend and colleague Daniel Burnham said of him, "An artist, he paints with lakes and wooded slopes; with lawns and banks and forest covered hills; with mountain sides and ocean views." And what better example of this artistry could one find than the vista in the northern reaches of Prospect Park overlooking a glacial kettle, not more than a few minutes' walk from the doorstep of Brooklyn's Central Library.

The Lake. Robert N. Dennis Collection, courtesy of The New York Public Library www.nypl.org.

The land in the northern end of Prospect Park was shaped by ice age forces. About 17,000 years ago the receding Wisconsin glacier left huge chunks of ice, which slowly melted, causing the soil above to collapse and giving rise to a landscape of dramatic character. Geologists call such formations kettles and in the northern quadrant of the park, Olmsted and Calvert Vaux had a beaut: one with a drop along its northern rim of almost sixty feet. To them, the kettle must have been a gift from landscape heaven.

The Children's Shelter. Brooklyn Public Library--Brooklyn Collection

Olmsted and Vaux had designated this portion of the park as an area for children. They fashioned a small pool with a convoluted shoreline, and along the kettle's  northern rim they erected a rustic arbor overlooking the view.  A playground had been established in the higher ground to the east and a path descended down a series of steps to what was then the Children's Playground Pool. One can only imagine what it must have been like in those early days--because even as the architects were adding their finishing touches, change was on its relentless march.

Fountain, Vale of Cashmere. Brooklyn Public Library--Brooklyn Collection

Thirty years on, the architectural firm of McKim, Meade and White was placing its stamp upon Grand Army Plaza, erecting granite fencing, neoclassical columns and gazebos  in place of older rustic  shelters. Park Commissioner Frank Squire had the firm re-work the Children's Playground Pool, which was soon ringed with granite balustrades. Frederick MacMonnies donated a fountain, to complete a Beaux-Arts set piece.  The locale had been renamed "The Vale of Cashmere" by the wife of Brooklyn Mayor Alfred C. Chapin. She has been inspired by Thomas Moore's Lalla Rookh, an Oriental Romance." The aged Olmsted detested the name, but a younger generation now held sway and so it stuck.

City of New York, Department of Parks Report, 1903.

And the view? Now muted. Trees, non-existent in the late 1860s, became well-rooted on the east and west rims  of the kettle. The distant view had become largely obscured by their crowns, so that the middle-ground, the Vale itself, became the focus of one's attention rather than a panorama of the whole wide park. None of this was terrible. The park grounds were still well-groomed--just to guiding principles of a different order.

Lily pond, Rose Garden near Vale of Cashmere, c. 1900. Brooklyn Public Library--Brooklyn Collection

Sadly, much of the twentieth century fell hard on the Vale. The 1898 consolidation of Brooklyn into New York City left Brooklyn's premier park as just some other big park in an outer borough.  Interwar graft diverted much money meant for parks. "By the 1930s," the New York Times observed, "generations of Parks Department officials had lived well and got rich by diverting maintenance funds and the park showed the result of half a century of abuse and neglect."

Photograph: © Garry R. Osgood

And so vanished the vista. Not in a year or a decade, but eventually it was gone. A stroller through the arbor's precinct today might, if struck by some curious diligence, push away the leaves and dirt along the shoulder of the path to discover, at regular intervals, plugs of asphalt, barely distinguishable from the surrounding pavement. These seal off the post holes of the now vanished arbor, the only surviving markers of a different kind of beauty.  

Garry R. Osgood.