The History of New York State
Book II, Chapter IV
Part VII

Editor, Dr. James Sullivan

Online Edition by Holice, Deb & Pam


The new officials acted with zeal and people began to notice a great improvement in the way both the Department of Police and the Department of Street Cleaning did their work. Among other things the police were directed to enforce the liquor laws more energetically then had been done before that time. There were a great many people to whom those laws did not appeal and who objected to their too rigorous application. These people took their revenge during the election that followed and their influence brought abut the enactment of the Raines law, which took the licensing out of the hands of the municipal government and made it a State affair, under the charge of a commissioner. The new commissioner of street cleaning devised the uniform for the cleaners sine so familiar--white jacket and white trousers, which made them conspicuous and let people know whether they worked or not. A great deal more energy was expended in the work of cleaning the streets. The new interest was part of the work that was being put in to safeguard and improve the health of the population in the city, and though at first the change was most apparent in the larger thoroughfares, it soon made itself felt also in poorer quarters and it aroused the citizens themselves in every way to take a pride and an interest in the appearance of the streets in the different quarters. In winter the force was greatly enlarged when there was a heavy snowfall. It was at this time that the department began to turn out in parade. It gave the public some idea of the excellent discipline and almost military organization of the force of workers; and it aroused the workers themselves to put their first foot foremost and brought up to them the essential part they played in the life and conduct of the municipality.

Presidential Campaign of 1896--New York's history if largely a history of parades, for that was one of the city's favorite methods of united expression whenever the people 's feelings were deeply roused. But the parade in connection with the presidential campaign of 1896 differed from the others in a certain large respect, for it made Wall Street the center of the city interest for a time and gave the impression of a population of financial experts. It was, of course, realized that New York was a financial center and that the greatness of the city was largely bound up in the fact that it was a sort of clearing house not merely for the major financial operations of the Nation, but also as the gateway of foreign financial movements. But the average new Yorkers is probably little versed in the intricacies of finance as the average citizen of any other city or town. Finance is a special field that can only be mastered by severe and sustained study, and a man living in New York has as little chance of acquiring the science, if he does not frequent Wall Street and make a special study of it, as the gatekeeper at the university has of becoming skilled in the humanities. However, the question of free silver in 1896 had set the whole country on the study of the problem. The platform of the Democratic party, repudiating the gold standard and advocating the free coinage of silver, was looked upon as a blow at sound money, and men and newspapers lost sight of the ordinary political questions in their alarm over the menace directed at the financial policy of the country, so that party affiliations were for the time disregarded. Journals, for example, that were normally Democratic, gave their support in this campaign to the Republican nominee. The public gave ear and there was a great parade on the Saturday before election day. the citizens had been requested to make the day "Flag Day," and flags were hung out all over the city by householders of every party in spite of the fact that the parade was in opposition to the Democratic program. The parade itself was, however, studiously bereft of emblems and mottoes of a strictly party character. Every effort had been made to make clear the attitude of those who organized the parade that the financial structure under which the Nation had prospered had been seriously threatened and that patriotism required the obliteration of the usual party lines. It was calculated that the number who marched in the procession totaled about 120,000, the parade taking from eight to ten hours to pass a given point. William Jennings Bryan, the Democratic nominee, then in the first flush of his first political success, recognized the sentiment that had been organized in the metropolis and had no hesitation in declaring that New York was the enemy country. Desiring to beard the lion in his den, he decided that he ought to receive ratification of his nomination and delivered his speech of acceptance in New York. He came to the city and spoke in Madison Square Garden, but the congregation that met him was considered as not up to the mark of expectation in numbers and enthusiasm, though the unusually hot August spell that prevailed was put forward by his supporters as the chief element in dissolving the practical fervor of the faithful in the citadel.

The Growing Metropolis--New York, it has been remarked, while first among the cities of the republic, cannot claim quite the position of a London, a Paris, a Berlin in their respective countries.

That is contrary to the genius of our land and people, where no such preponderating or dominating influence would be tolerated, or can in the nature of things be accorded, to the habits, the opinion, the manners of any collection of citizens, whatever may be their advantages of location or success in municipal being. Such things are only possible where a court sets the tome of living, as in London, Berlin, Vienna; or where the traditions of such influences abide, as they do still in republics Paris. In this New York is singularly like to its old namesake, Amsterdam. That city, though a metropolis, is not a capital as the others are; and Holland, with its democratic instincts, in spite of its monarchical form of government, as little tolerates a dominating court of capital as the Untied States. But while New York has no court she had her palaces. It is something to stimulate the pride of her poorest citizens, that mansions adorn her streets, that may well vie with the houses of emperors and kings in splendor and beauty. We look upon the marble halls of the Stewart mansion, or the homes of the Vanderbilts, the massive pile of C. P. Huntington's residence, Tiffany's peculiar but magnificent domicile, the Astors' and the houses that here and there break the conventional monotony along Central Park--and it should awaken satisfaction, not envy, that our fellow-citizens by their brains and capabilities in commerce, finance, railway enterprise, development of the country's natural resources, or what not else of useful and honorable industry, have been enabled to rear for themselves dwelling which even some pampered scion of royalty would have to deem fit for his habitation, whereas he occupies palaces and lives in indolent luxury without the turning of a hand in useful occupation, or the exertion of a mind in exhaustive planning of great enterprises. The plain burghers of Amsterdam, in 1648, thought themselves as good as kings and erected the city hall, now misnamed and misused as a royal residence, equal to any imperial palace then in Europe. So are our citizens sovereigns and princes and kings in the realms of useful human activity. They are of our kin, before us as before them the world with all its chances and its prizes. Quite as satisfactory a feature, if we look to the appearance of the city, are the splendid hotels that grace many of our thoroughfares. We may linger fondly over the old names, and mourn the departure of the noble hostelries that once bore them. We miss the Irving House and the St. Nicholas, hidden away somewhere on another street quite foreign to our association, and the Metropolitan, and the huge brick structure of the New York beloved of Southerners; we are glad to find the "semi-modern" still with us, the Sturtevant and Gilsey House and Grand Hotel. We comfort ourselves particularly because wee found the ancient Astor and Brevoort and Saint Denis still on the sites that knew them thirty or forty years ago. But consolation and compensation to not fail to possess us when we behold a Windsor; or an Imperial, or Plaza Hotel. Thus we glory also in the Savoy, with its magnificent banqueting hall, decorated in gold and white, with glorious frescoes, and fairy effects by means of hidden electric lights. Then there is the Netherland, which was saved from calling itself the "New Netherlands" by a judicious friend, and then flopped over into another mistaken by leaving off the "New," which omission would have rendered the plural form correct. And again, language shrinks at its own inadequacy when it wants to tell of a Waldorf, and its enormous and magnificent neighbor, greater than itself, the creation of the same colossal fortune, the two amalgamated in name and identity as the Waldorf-Astoria. The wonder is that such huge resorts for the temporary home of strangers, or the easy convenience of citizens, who have a horror of housekeeping, can possibly make both end meet while so many of them cluster together in close proximity. #20 The stranger is drawn to New York, however, any inducements. There are the mammoth stores, often occupying a whole block, apparently devoted only to the sale of dry goods, but in reality emporiums where can be purchased everything from a clothes pin to a horseless carriage; where one can go and buy a handkerchief, and also stock a dwelling from garret to cellar, with all the appurtenances of housekeeping. These stores, multiplying in every part of the city, are raising serious questions of economics. They are crowding to the wall small shopkeepers, many of whom have already given up the struggle, glad of the chance to become more salesmen behind the counters of their successful rivals. Making their profits on the sale of dry goods mainly, sold for cash, these concerns can buy immense quantities of groceries, or furniture, or shoes, at bottom prices, and sell them at no profit at all, or at so little profit as to ruin the small dealers if they must compete with them. The general public, however, usually hails with joy the reduced prices, regardless of economic effects. Strikingly impressive again, sue to attract the visitor's admiring attention, are the armories that are now to be found in various parts of the city. The first of any pretense to architectural grandeur was that of the Seventh Regiment, on Fourth and Lexington Avenues, and Sixty-sixth and Sixty-seventh Streets. The drill room measures 200 by 300 feet. On April 19, 1893, the regiment placed a bronze tablet on the building on the corner of Fulton and Nassau Streets, the site of the old Shakespeare Tavern, where on August 25, 1824, the Seventh was organized, then known as the Twenty-seventh. The tablet represented the tavern in bas-relief, and has upon it a monogram with the figure "7" as the central part. The eighth Regiment Armory is of plain brick, and standing upon the lofty hill at Ninety-fourth and Ninety-fifth Streets and Park Avenue, its great round towers reminding one of some exaggerated medieval castle, are seen far and wide. The armory of Cavalry Troop A is placed directly against its rear, facing Madison Avenue, so that the two buildings occupy the whole block; the later structure was completed July 10, 1894. The Twenty--second Regiment has a fine armory on the Boulevard and Sixty-seventh Street, and the Twelfth's is nearby on Columbus (Ninth) Avenue and Sixty-second Street. The Ninth has recently moved into its new armory on the old site in Fourteenth Street, a little west of Sixth Avenue. It is still commanded by Col. William Seward, who gave way only for a short time to that tinsel soldier, James Fisk, who do disliked the bullets and brickbats of the Orange Riots in 1871. The Sixty-ninth is still in the old Seventh's Armory over Tompkins' Market at Third Avenue and Seventh Street, bit it to have the site of New York College when that institution moved up town. A splendid and lofty stone edifice is the home of the Seventy-first Regiment, on Thirty-fourth Street and Park Avenue, which was completed and occupied in March, 1894. Here are the offices of the headquarters pf the First Brigade, commanded by Gen. Louis Fitzgerald, to which all the New York regiments belong.

It must be a source of great satisfaction to the National guardsmen when on the march that so many of the streets of New York are now provided with asphalt pavements. There is also a distinct military advantage about the circumstance, which the authorities of Paris clearly appreciated. It reduces the facility for throwing up breastworks or barricades, and quite deprives a mob of the convenient ammunition of paving stones. This, both fro holiday exhibitions and because of the more serious utility, the soldiers of the militia must regard the increasing number of asphalted streets greatly to their advantage. The bicyclist may imagine that they are made for his special benefit, but they have a deeper design; and the ordinary mortals who own no bicycles may also possibly put in a word of approbation on the merely sentimental score of affording a handsome appearance to the city of their habitation. The horseman may, likewise, modestly put forward a tribute of gratitude must restrain his steed from a too tempting swiftness over the smooth surface. The city has not forgotten that some people still love horses and that a horse that can go ought to have a chance to prove his mettle. A speedway for fast driving is now under construction at great cost, running from One Hundred and Fifty-fifth Street, at the head of the viaduct, down along the steep bluff at as moderate a declination as possible, until nearly the level of the Harlem River is attained, where it will stretch without wise or fall for two and a half miles , as far as Dyckman Street. #21 It has afforded a curious illustration thus far what patriotic citizens are willing to take out of the municipal treasury. The property to be acquired, or to be damaged, for the construction of the Speedway, was valued by sworn appraisers at $200,000. The aggregate of the claims of the owners of the several portions amounts to the nice round figure of $3,000,000. The bridges over the Harlem have been noticed. On February 28, 1896, plans were approved fro a second East river bridge to cross from South Fifth Street, Brooklyn, to Delancey Street, New York. In June, 1894, the President signed the bill authorizing the construction of the New Jersey and New York bridge over the North River, to land in New York between Fifty-ninth and Sixtieth streets, for the use of the railways mainly. Work is going on upon both these bridges at the present time, but as yet very obscurely. #22 Rapid transit, a problem once thought solved the elevated railways, and again by the cable roads, has been thrown back upon the people by the very effectiveness of their operation, causing an increase in the inhabitants. In 1894 the people voted that $50,000,000 be expended on the solution of the problem of some new plan, the commission went to work bravely and then were stopped suddenly by a court decision in 1896, because their designs threatened far to exceed the cost voted on, and the excess would render their action unconstitutional. The plan adopted, which may yet at some future day be unhampered by legal injunctions, involved an underground railway starting near the foot of Whitehall Street, to run beneath State Street and Broadway to Fifty-ninth Street, under the Boulevard to Ninety-third Street, by viaduct to One Hundred and Twenty-third Street, again by viaduct to one Hundred and Fifty-first Street, under the Boulevard to One Hundred and Fifty-sixth Street, viaduct to One Hundred and Fifty-ninth Streets, under the Boulevard to One Hundred and Sixty-ninth Street, and under Eleventh Avenue to One Hundred and Eighty-fifth Street. A branch was to start at Broadway and Fourteenth Streets to Fourth Avenue, under Fourth Avenue to Ninety-eighth Street, by viaduct to the Harlem River, crossing the latter by a bridge. #23

Dealing with the subject of water supply and is bearing on the cleanliness, comfort and health of the city, the same writer goes on to remark that at some time of writing, that is over twenty-five years ago, compared with former times, the city was singularly free from epidemic disease. In earlier times, not only every decade, but several time each decade, the smallpox or yellow fever was wont to devastate the little city below Chambers Street or Canal Street, until the middle of this century. In the nineties with a population approaching 2,000,000, no serious outbreak of pestilence had occurred for a score of years. Never was the city's sanitary condition put to the severer strain than during the summer of 1896. On Wednesday, August 5, four deaths occurred from the excessive heat, and the newspapers the next day announced in headlines that it was the "worst day' of the season so far. But matters grew incredibly worse before another week had elapsed. On the sixth day of August five deaths were reported; on Saturday, the eight, there were ten. Then there was a sudden leap to forty-five deaths on Sunday, the ninth. The next day seventy-two deaths occurred and 200 prostrations. On the next day, Tuesday, August, the eleventh, the citizens were appalled by a record of 120 deaths from the heat, and 300 prostrations. Even yet the death angel was not through with the afflicted city; ninety-three deaths on Wednesday, with 314 prostrated; and sixty-eight deaths on Thursday, closing the calamitous catalogue. Thus the nine days had carried off 420 victims, the temperature for the nine days averaging 90.77 degrees Fahrenheit. The heat did not reach 100 degrees at any time during this period. It was rather the continuance of it day and night, the absolute stagnation of the air, and the oppressive humidity, that made these days so trying to all and fatal to so many. Yet it was the heat pure and simple and no disease produced or fostered by high temperature that caused the death record to rise to such alarming figures.

Then, as now, it was in the poorer districts of the East Side, between the Bowery and the East River, that the greatest suffering prevailed during heated terms. There people wee huddled together in tenement houses, containing four families on a floor, and mounting up floor after floor to the fifth story. Not content with choking people to death in that manner, with a narrow street in front, some of the landlords put up rear tenements on the same lots, separated from the front building by scarcely twenty feet. So crying did the evil become in its cruelty to those dwelling in these places, and in its peril to the general health of the city, that a movement was organized compelling the tearing down of these rear tenements. Yet in spite of the discomforts and miseries besetting them, the multitudes who crowded those districts could be not be induced to have the city for the country or to dwell in airy homes in towns bordering on the city. The fascination of the city held those people--a fascination quite easy to understand. The human instinct of segregation possessed them; they felt it was good to be near others of their kind. The brilliant lights, the gaieties, pageants, shops, bustle of a great city, all these things had a charm for them. They wanted to be participants in the great throb of life around them, though often their one individual breath was drawn with pain. For the criminal element, too, the multitude is a hiding place, and the serried masses their proper prey. These are some of the facts that constitutes what is called the threat in big cities. They act as lodestones upon the surrounding country, drawing indeed its best, but also its worst, and apt to make its average material worse rather than better. Religious principles weaken as religious association are abandoned, and in the crows men and families are lost to religious surveillance and pastoral care.

But it is an easy transition to the brighter side of the city life. Thus there was at this time already the University Settlement or University Extension, as the movement has been variously styled. Placing themselves right in the midst of the poor and wretched, at 26 Delancey Street, men and women of education, with university training, endeavored to elevate taste and enlist sympathy for the higher studies by direct contact with the people. This was good work, d there was plenty more. The extension of the park system at this time engaged the attention of the people. It was realized that ample pleasure grounds were an important factor in the well-being of the city and New York at an early date was determined to go far in providing open places. The new territory north of the Harlem was utilized to furnish several parks possessing by nature many of the advantages which art was compelled to supply on attractions of hill and dale and woodland and bay scenery, which the landscape gardener could aid in rendering all the more bewitching. Four thousand acres or five times the area of Central Park were thus reserved for the purpose of promoting health and taste, ends not usually greatly emphasized where commerce reigns supreme. Historic associations also this side of the river. Jerome Park, Claremont Park, Van Cortlandt Park, Bronx park, Crotona Park, Pelham Bay Park--these combined lent their charm. The Van Cortlandt Park contained the old family mansion, and this was set adie as a historical cabinet. Again science claimed a part in these beautiful reservations. In Bronx Park a botanic garden was laid out with a museum, having a frontage of over 300 feet with a 50-foot depth, with wings later supplied over 200 feet long. In another part of the park a zoological garden was provided, far surpassing the extempore affair in Central Park. At the Battery, Castle Gardens, which had become rather squalid, was turned into the handsome aquarium, which had since become the Mecca of thousands. The aquarium was opened in December, 1896, it conversion costing half a million dollars, while it was endowed with a quarter of a million dollars. It was arranged that no entrance fee should be charged, so that this display of the inhabitants of the deep seas, not otherwise accessible for study, was let open alike of rich and poor. In Manhattan Park, annex of Central park, at Central park West and Seventy-seventh Street, the public has also the Museum of natural History, with its great variety of collections continually added to, its great series of bird habitat groups and meteorites, and fossil vertebrates, and material showing the phases of life of primitive man.

Of greater interest than any of these also were the treasures of art stored in the galleries of the Metropolitan Museum in Central Park. Here the possessors of great wealth vied with each other in the laudable ambition of bestowing on the city and its population art objects of every kind. N At this date the collections in the museum ha already attained an extraordinary excellence and included priceless paintings. Meissonier's "Friedland, 1807," was bought by Judge Henry Hilton for $69,000, and presented to the museum. Rose Bonheur's "Horse Fair," celebrated and familiar everywhere by numerous reproductions, painted by order of A. T. Stewart, was bought by Cornelius Vanderbilt for $55,500, and given to the people's art gallery. "Champigny," the scene of the last stand made by the Paris Commune in 1871, by Detaille, costing $35,000, was also a gift of Judge Hilton's. Josef Israel's "Maternity," an exquisite life size interior, representing a fisherman' s hut, with a young woman seated by a cradle and daintily preparing garments for the great event awaited, was another greatly prized gift to the museum. There Rubens and Rembrandt and Jan Steen, and a host of noble Dutch and Flemish masters flow in their speaking colors as a lesson as to what the miraculous hand and brain of man can perform in the art of expression through the superficial film of still life. Miss Catherine L. Wolfe at her death left all her rich collection of paintings, with an additional $200,000 to take care of them, so that a new wing had to be added to take care of them properly. Apart from the paintings there were added specimens in another field of the fine arts which were of supreme excellence. Models of the Parthenon, the Pantheon, the Notre Dame of Paris reproduced those architectural wonders with fidelity. In a great number of cabinets abounded specimens of the glassmaker's art, which among the relics from Egypt gathered at this time a sarcophagus gaped showing how robbers had opened the tomb and rifled the interior.

At this time, too, the life of the city had been made richer by the dedicating of two splendid new temples to the goddess of music. On Broadway, between Thirty-ninth and Fortieth Streets, was erected the Metropolitan Opera House, a great structure of brick and iron, with a stage 96 feet wide, 76 feet deep, and 120 feet high. It was opened in 1883, and from that time forth was devoted to the greater works in the opera field. Most of the Wagner operas were produced there from the beginning with success. But the conductors of the Metropolitan were not restricted to their tastes. During the season of 1891 and 1892 examples of French and Italian opera were produced there with a hearty response from the music-loving public. Sometimes, when it appeared questionable whether a season could be made profitable with the costly settings and the vastly expensive singers, there were also found citizens of public spirit and good taste ready to come forward with their subscriptions to see that everything went forward in a proper manner. In September, 1892, the interior of the opera house was ruined by fire. It seemed doubtful at the time whether the place could be restored, but after a year's delay plans were drawn up that succeeded in restoring it to its former attractive appearance. Another important building set apart for the promotion of musical taste and enjoyment was the Carnegie Hall, which being without stage settings, specialized in vocal and instrumental concerts, and became also a favorite resort for public meetings. It was opened on May 5, 1891, and its cost was declared to have been $1,250.000. it was provided with a capacity that seated 3,000 with standing room for 1,000 more. The erection of these building showed that there was a public in New York that loved good music and it was soon made clear also that virtuosi were also in strong numbers in the city. In June, 1894, a Saengerfest was held in New York and lasted for five days--it was declared at the time to have been the largest singing festival ever held in America and probably also in Europe. There were delegates from societies in twenty-five cities of the Union. Madison Square Garden was made the scene of the concerts, and at them some of the highest paid signers in the world attended. On one of the evenings there was a torchlight procession enlivened by open-air serenades. In 1889 the Manuscript Club was founded, constituted by American composers, having for its object "the advancement of musical compositions and the development of honest and intelligent musical criticism." Besides private meetings it gave occasional public concerts at which the programs consisted of pieces rendered from the original manuscripts, its aim being to produce no music that had ever been heard in public before.

In line with the developing public sophistication was the establishment of societies having as their purpose the preservation of ancestral memories and names in a city that perhaps lived too much in the present. The St. Nicholas society and the Holland society were formed to recall the days of the beginnings of the city, linking interestingly the generation that then lived with the devoted ancestors that came from the old republic of the Netherlands. From the beginning the Holland society devoted time and means to the work of marking historic spots that told of Dutch occupation. In September, 1889, it put up bronze tablets on the building are 4 Bowling Green, the site of Fort Amsterdam; at 39 Broadway, where Christiaensen spent the winter of 1613 and 1614; at 73 Pearl Street, the site of the City Tavern, in 17642, which became the city hall in 1653, continuing such till 1700; and at 115 Broadway, the Boreel Building, the site of Lieutenant-Governor James De Lancey' s house, later the City Hotel.

Indeed, all over the city at that time could be found evidence that testifies to the munificence of leading citizens. There were even then a very great number of hospitals. Among the conspicuous gifts made about this time was that of $500,000, made by William H. Vanderbilt just before hi death, to the college of Physicians and Surgeons. Other members of the Vanderbilt family gave large sums for the erection of the Maternity Hospital. The gifts made to the Roosevelt, St. Like's and other hospitals there are few forms of munificence that are more meritorious than those that are made with the object of alleviating human sickness and suffering or the promotion of the study and conquest of disease. The prosperous citizens of New York showed from the beginning an inclination to do what they could in this direction and it was at that time that those hospitals and foundations came into being, and added to their development in such away as to make New York as remarkable in that respect as in the institutions that mark the way in other lines of endeavor.

Then the proposition of higher studies both in the departments of science and the humanities came to the fore as an object of interest to those who had the well-being and progress of the city in view. The public school system was at this time well on its way and more than justified its existence, but it was felt at this time that the time had come when the number of high schools should be established in various parts of the city to act as intervening stages in the program of studies and to relieve the pressure on the City College. At this time, when large numbers of students were a novelty with which it had not learned to cope, it was felt that progress was impeded by the presence of young men who, it was thought likely, would not be able to continue the course, and who in the view of the heads at the time crowded the introductory and freshmen classes to excess. #24 it was felt at the time that though this gave them the high school education they wanted, their numbers hindered the work of those who wished to achieve the full college course. Thus it came about that the wheels were set moving and a movement was set on foot so that by act of the Legislature, at its session closing in the spring of 1897, several high schools were authorized. A year before the Legislature abolished the ward trustees, for it was held that by this system men of no especial education were given important functions of educators, and paid inspectors, who were experts in school matters, were given their places. For the sake of keeping pace with the times, and with the growing needs of the city's increasing bounds and population, the expenditure of over $1,000,000 was authorized so that the College of the City of New York might be moved to a more suitable location and that buildings might be erected for its use. The site chosen was at One Hundred and thirty-eighth Street and St. Nicholas Avenue, the grounds to extend to One Hundred and Fortieth Street northward and Amsterdam Avenue, a continuation of Tenth Avenue, westward. On the heights south of the valley of the Harlem Plains, now Manhattan Avenue, the magnificent proportions of the new Columbia University buildings at this time made their appearance. The center was occupied by the library, the cost of it $1,000,000, given by President Seth Low as a memorial to his father--a fine domed circular building of marble, and flanked on either side with great structures of brick, with stone trimmings. The university grounds stretched from One Hundred and Sixteenth Street to One hundred and Nineteenth Street, between Amsterdam Avenue and Broadway. A wooded campus in the rear is enclosed by a splendid iron fence ten feet high, with massive granite posts, surmounted by urns, at every fifty feet. Barnard College, the annex for Women, stands on Broadway, opposite One Hundred and Nineteenth Street, fronting on Broadway, with a quadrangle opening on One Hundred and Eighteenth Street. On One Hundred and Nineteenth Street, near Amsterdam Avenue, the Teachers' College, was erected in 1893. It was at this time also that the New York University left its historic pile on Washington Square and started erecting its new buildings on Fordham Heights.

The History of New York State, Lewis Historical Publishing Company, Inc., 1927

Transcribed by Holice B. Young

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