| The following column appeared in The River Reporter, July 23 and 30, 1998. |
By Bert S. Feldman
The Recusant Reporter
Thursday, July 23, 1998
Early in January, there was a shootout between police and a black man, the latter died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. There was a turmoil in the black community, and the assembled crowd shouted threats of a race riot. Fortunately there were several cooler persons present who were able to calm the agitators. A race riot is, rightly, one of the most frightening forms of violence against a community. We have experienced several such outbreaks in recent years, in Los Angeles and in New York City’s Harlem, but the worst riot that ever occurred in this country happened in New York City, and the rioters were Irish immigrants.
The Irish immigrants had, starting in 1840, fled the horrors of the potato famine and the infamous Corn Laws. It has been estimated that over 50% of the entire population left that unhappy island for other shores. The largest number came to America, mainly to New York City.
As is true with most new immigrants, they were put to work in the most menial jobs. Handed picks and shovels, the Irish dug the D&H Canal in our area, the Erie Canal upstate, laid the tracks for the new industry of the railroads, and did other "strong back" work. The better jobs, such as in the newly booming textile plants, were not available to the Irish. Signs on factory gates blatantly proclaimed, "Irish need not apply."
Another factor about the Irish that the American people regarded with hostility was the Catholic church, which was then relatively unknown in this country outside of Maryland.
The coming of the Civil War
When the Civil War erupted in 1861, the Irish community was of two opinions. Never ones to shun a good fight, and hoping that supporting the war effort would gain them some respectability, many flocked to the Union. The Irish Brigade, carrying a green flag embroidered with a golden harp alongside the Stars and Stripes, and incorporated such famous regiments as the New York 69th, distinguished itself at such places as Antietam, which featured the single bloodiest day of the war.
However, the Irish in New York City looked upon the possibility of a war that would free the slaves as an economic disaster. What would they do if the former slaves were set free and took over the lowest rungs of the job market, where the Irish were, maybe even at a lower wage?
A common expression of that time among the Irish was, "We have not come to America to free the slaves!"
To the Irish, living in the unbelievable slums of the Five Points and Hell’s Kitchen, the start of the new draft law, on July 13, 1863, was regarded as the ultimate insult. It was possible, for $300, to buy your way out if called. And in those years, $300 was a princely sum indeed.
On July 14, 11 days after the Battle of Gettysburg, conscription started at the draft board office at 46th St. and 3rd Ave. Signs, put up by the Irish, sprouted all over the neighborhood. "No draft," was a common one; others read "Draft the rich bastard!", "Hurrah for the Pope," and more frighteningly, "Hang the niggers!"
A young army officer spun the drum and said a name, "Jim O’Neil!" And the reply came quickly — "And I’ll not be going." The mob then drove out the officer and his men and proceeded to demolish and burn down the draft office building. The fat was in the fire — literally.
New York City at that time was said to be one-quarter Irish. And it seemed that all of them — men, women, and children — were all out on the street at one time. The first target was the Harlem and New York Railroad, on 6th Ave. All the wires paralleling the tracks were ripped down, paralyzing the railroad and isolating the city. Horse-drawn omnibuses were overturned, and looting began. People on the streets were attacked; weapons were at hand — the streets were paved with cobblestones.
The police were outnumbered. Superintendent of police John Kennedy (corresponding to today’s commissioner) was on 3rd Ave. when a mob, largely women and children, spotted him. Tearing up cobblestones, they pelted him, kicked in his ribs, and bashed his head. Left for dead, Kennedy did survive but was crippled for life.
The next object of the mob was the Union Steam Works at 21st St. and 2nd Ave., where arms for the army were made and stored. There was bitter fighting with the police and some of the mechanics at the factory, but they were swept aside by the angry rioters.
Thank you, readers of my column, friends, neighbors, all.
I have just been released from Community General Hospital for medical treatment that required me to have a transfusion of three pints of blood.
Whose blood it was, I don’t know or care. Whether it was donated freely by a Narrowsburg housewife, a Liberty mechanic, or a Yulan checkout clerk is no matter. All I know is that I needed it and someone cared enough about the welfare of someone else to drop by the hospital and give of their own blood.
It is to be hoped that all of you who are able to donate your blood will continue to do so.
The pioneer in the development of blood banks and the technique of applying it to battlefield casualties in World War II was a physician, Charles Richard Drew (1904-50). Drew followed up on his discovery by becoming the head of the American Red Cross blood-donor program. Alas! Here, in the Land of the Free, if Drew had needed a blood transfusion for himself, many hospitals would have turned him away.
Drew had a terrible social disease. His skin was dark brown.
By Bert S. Feldman
The Recusant Reporter
Thursday, July 30, 1998
A telegram to governor Seymour in Albany brought no help. The governor hemmed and hawed, but did nothing. What could he do, he asked; all the state militia are fighting down south. The archbishop likewise did nothing.
The navy yard, over in the city of Brooklyn, did offer some assistance. A regiment of marines was sent to the custom house at the Battery, and two naval vessels were dispatched to the opposite ends of Fulton St. on the Hudson and East rivers (Fulton is the only "name" street that touches both rivers). Loading their cannon with canister shot, thus acting like giant shotguns, they were able to prevent anyone from entering the financial district.
After looting the stores, the rioters turned to private residences on the pretense of looking for hidden blacks. Once inside the homes, they looted the premises, assaulted the residents, and then burned the premises.
Police captain Thomas C. Acton, acting in place of superintendent Kennedy, called in sergeant Daniel Carpenter and told him to get all his men out on the streets. "Don’t make any arrests," he concluded.
Now there was pitched fighting on Broadway, police against the mobs, with no holds barred.
In the stores that remained untouched by the mobs, barricades were thrown up and employees were armed with whatever arms were available.
The newspapers, especially Horace Greeley’s Tribune, which strongly supported the war effort, and the Times, were attacked at their offices on Park Row. Greeley’s printers hurled down heavy newspaper-sized iron chases, which drove the rioters back. The Times had managed to obtain one of the newfangled Gatling "coffee mill" machine guns, and the mobs left them alone.
The Irish mobs now turned to inflicting revenge on the blacks. One mob attacked the Colored Orphan Asylum on Fifth Ave. between 43rd and 44th streets. Asylum personnel were able to delay the rioters until the children were passed out to safety through a back window. Five other blacks were lynched and hanged from lamp posts. One of them was well known: "Big Sue the Turtle," a prominent brothel operator and procurer.
On the third day, help arrived, direct from the lines at Gettysburg where they were resting after three bloody days of fighting against Robert E. Lee and the Confederate army. General Wright’s Sixth Corps they were, marching off the ferry boats from Jersey City. These seasoned veterans of three days of hard fighting, with the stink of the battlefield still on them, were grim and determined. "Fix bayonets!" was the command, the nine-yard look came into their eyes as they marched down the streets, and the mob dispersed. It was all over with.
What the total bill in property damage was will probably never be known. Many of the rioters who were killed were carried away by their friends and buried somewhere. Their bones still show up from time to time when building sites are excavated in downtown Manhattan.
Known casualties were over 1200, rioters and police. Now, that was a riot! And may we never see another like it.
