The Raymond Street Jail was nicknamed Brooklyn's Bastille - it was a notoriously decrepit place, even after being rebuilt in 1879 (it was originally built in the 1830s to replace the Flatbush jail where prisoners had been incarcirated before that time).
I came across this odd piece of history while researching the Raymond Street Jail for my mystery novel:
In 1874, a prisoner named Thomas C. Dunn, who was serving time for "several charges of forgery," tried his hand at writing a newspaper, which he called the Brooklyn Jail Gazette. Dunn was a good writer, and had quite a sense of humor, all the more remarkable given that the Raymond Street Jail was a grim place to be. The very words "Raymond Street" evoked horror - so much, that the street name was changed to Ashland Place in the 1930s. Dunn was supposed to be "a young man of good culture" and the stepson of a minister, the Eagle (which quoted several long excerpts from the Jail Gazette) noted. Here are a few selections (I really want to quote the whole thing, but it is too long):
Dunn's lead story in the Jail Gazette was entitled "T.C. Dunn in Jail - How He Eats":
This young, interesting, and would-be James Fisk, Jr.*, is incarcerated in Cell No. 4 of this jail, on the criminal tier. He manages, however, to pass the time, agreeably, his daily diet being canned turkey, soft crabs, buttered toast, &c. He is very partial to Regina Victorias - made out of Whalen's tobacco by Teby, the hall man. He is melancholy at times, and longs for the society of Nellie and "Spareribs" and Eighth Ward gin. He is prepossessing in appearance, but to keen eyed observers would be considered as having a little too much mouth. He has a total aversion to the powers (meaning Detective Powers) that be, and thinks that only for the said Powers he would not be now incarcerated in a vile dungeon, with a tinker lunch fiend [meaning his associate editor, Dennis Whalen, the burglar, noted the Eagle].
[Note: A "lunch fiend" or "free lunch fiend" was, in 1870s slang, a fellow who went into saloons, cadging drinks when he could, and eating up the free snacks that bartenders set out for the paying customers.]
WANTED [selected]
Bail for $3,000, to enable an interesting young bloke to emerge from durance vile. Address T.C. Dunn, Cell 4, Criminal Tier.
Bail for $500, to enable a dead beat to emerge into public life, that he may play new rackets. Address J.J. Waylan, Cell 3, Criminal Tier.
Bail for $300, to enable a broken down clam merchant and lunch fiend to resume business. Communicate to William Lang, Cell 4.
BOARD [selected]
Accommodations for single gentlemen, who have little embarrassments with the authorities. Situation delightful. Fine view of the sky through a barred window, nine inches by three feet. Address Thos. Stinson [the warden], Hotel de Raymond, 215 Raymond Street.
I definitely will be basing a character upon Thomas C. Dunn, if not in this present mystery novel - then most certainly another. And I wonder - how long did the Brooklyn Jail Gazette flourish? And did any copies survive? I'm guessing that they didn't, sadly. So I'm glad that the Eagle reporter had such regard for his colleague, and quoted so much of Dunn's work.
Source: "Jail Literature," Brooklyn Daily Eagle, August 13, 1874, p. 2.
* James Fisk Jr., also known as "Diamond Jim," was a famous, and very wealthy, financier of the late 19th century - not to be confused with "Diamond Jim" Brady, who also was a financier of that period in New York.
Image from Correction History's museum exhibit Return to Raymond Street Jail (highly recommended, by the way).
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Book Review: The Victorian Fern Craze
The Victorian Fern Craze
by Sarah Whittingham
Shire Books, 2009
62 pages
Pteridomania was the term used for the Victorian craze for collecting, displaying and growing ferns. The word was devised by author Charles Kingsley in 1855 to describe the fevered interest in ferns that reached its heights in England in the 1840-1890 period.
Ferns had been valued through the centuries for their beauty and medicinal attributes. People also were fascinated with the mysterious way ferns reproduce through the production of spores, not seeds. But it was only in the 19th century - concurrent with the rise of an educated, urban middle class, of the idea of leisure activities and hobbies, and of botany and scientific publications - that ferns and fern collecting became a part of popular culture.
Fern mania was something that everyone could participate in - whether you went on expeditions to Devon and other places where ferns could be gathered, or merely enjoyed them in the new ferneries in greenhouses open to the public. And at home, fern enthusiasts could have small Wardian cases (named for their inventor, amateur naturalist Dr. Nathaniel Bagshaw Ward) for displaying and growing ferns in the urban Victorian parlor. The Wardian case kept ferns safe from urban air pollution, and allowed the middle class family in a suburban villa to enjoy a miniature version of the wealthy family's fern grotto or fernery. Below right is an illustration featuring some Wardian cases; they came in many styles, ranging from plain boxes to elaborate cases resembling miniature Brighton Pavilions.

Sarah Whittingham's book is a fascinating, lavishly illustrated look at this fern craze, examining social factors such as the rise of the amateur, middle-class urban gardener, the wealth of botany books and periodicals that sprang up in the mid-Victorian period (many specifically devoted to ferns) and to the fern as a popular motif in decorative art - pottery, greeting cards and even designs on buildings.
I enjoyed this book very much; it is well written and beautifully illustrated and packs a great deal of information into 60-odd pages. I had never heard of Pteridomania and knew nothing about ferns and was thus informed at the same time as being entertained - just as the Victorians would have wanted! In addition, this is the first book to deal exclusively with the Victorian fern phenomenon in almost forty years, and as such is a wonderful addition to any collection of books dealing with the history of botany, or of Victorian popular culture.
Image of Wardian Cases (1870) from NYPL Digital Gallery and from Wikipedia; image of woman cutting ferns (1820) also from NYPL Digital Gallery.
NOTE: In the interest of full disclosure, Shire Books sent me this book for free; the review and opinions therein, however, are entirely my own.
by Sarah Whittingham
Shire Books, 2009
62 pages
Pteridomania was the term used for the Victorian craze for collecting, displaying and growing ferns. The word was devised by author Charles Kingsley in 1855 to describe the fevered interest in ferns that reached its heights in England in the 1840-1890 period.
Ferns had been valued through the centuries for their beauty and medicinal attributes. People also were fascinated with the mysterious way ferns reproduce through the production of spores, not seeds. But it was only in the 19th century - concurrent with the rise of an educated, urban middle class, of the idea of leisure activities and hobbies, and of botany and scientific publications - that ferns and fern collecting became a part of popular culture.
Fern mania was something that everyone could participate in - whether you went on expeditions to Devon and other places where ferns could be gathered, or merely enjoyed them in the new ferneries in greenhouses open to the public. And at home, fern enthusiasts could have small Wardian cases (named for their inventor, amateur naturalist Dr. Nathaniel Bagshaw Ward) for displaying and growing ferns in the urban Victorian parlor. The Wardian case kept ferns safe from urban air pollution, and allowed the middle class family in a suburban villa to enjoy a miniature version of the wealthy family's fern grotto or fernery. Below right is an illustration featuring some Wardian cases; they came in many styles, ranging from plain boxes to elaborate cases resembling miniature Brighton Pavilions.

Sarah Whittingham's book is a fascinating, lavishly illustrated look at this fern craze, examining social factors such as the rise of the amateur, middle-class urban gardener, the wealth of botany books and periodicals that sprang up in the mid-Victorian period (many specifically devoted to ferns) and to the fern as a popular motif in decorative art - pottery, greeting cards and even designs on buildings.
I enjoyed this book very much; it is well written and beautifully illustrated and packs a great deal of information into 60-odd pages. I had never heard of Pteridomania and knew nothing about ferns and was thus informed at the same time as being entertained - just as the Victorians would have wanted! In addition, this is the first book to deal exclusively with the Victorian fern phenomenon in almost forty years, and as such is a wonderful addition to any collection of books dealing with the history of botany, or of Victorian popular culture. Image of Wardian Cases (1870) from NYPL Digital Gallery and from Wikipedia; image of woman cutting ferns (1820) also from NYPL Digital Gallery.
NOTE: In the interest of full disclosure, Shire Books sent me this book for free; the review and opinions therein, however, are entirely my own.
Labels:
Book Reviews,
Victorian Popular Culture
Friday, April 23, 2010
At the Brooklyn Athenaeum.

An athenaeum, named for the Greek goddess Athena, was an institution dedicated to learning and culture. Many cities had athenaeums including Boston, Philadelphia and Glasgow (a complete list may be found here). Brooklyn's version opened in 1853 in a magnificent building at the corner of Clinton and Atlantic Avenues. It was organized by the "young men of Brooklyn," historian Henry Reed Stiles wrote in 1869, and was incorporated as the Brooklyn Athenaeum and Reading Room.
The Athenaeum featured a library and an auditorium in which all kinds of entertainments were offered; however, these entertainments were for moral and intellectual purposes. The dime museum also aimed (in theory, anyway) to combine pleasure and learning, but this was the high culture version of (minus the tigers and Fiji mermaids, of course). One could attend historical lectures, concerts of operatic and instrumental music, read in the library or even buy books at the Athenaeum bookstore. In 1857 a Mr. Fleming was having great success with his Drawing-Room Entertainments entitled "Poetry and Music," which had "Brilliant Audiences - Great Success." But by the 1860s the Athenaeum had competition from the Brooklyn Academy of Music, and many other less educational theaters, too. By 1911 the building was being used as a grocery store, and it was torn down in 1942.Both pictures of the Athenaeum - the 1922 photo and the ca 1900 postcard - appear courtesy of the Brooklyn Public Library.
Stiles, Henry Reed. A History of the City of Brooklyn, vol. 2 (1869), p. 295.
Mr. Fleming advertisement in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Feb. 5, 1857, p. 5.
[Review of The Victorian Fern Craze by Sarah Whittingham is coming early next week!]
Monday, April 19, 2010
Fougera's Preparations
Charles Edmond Fougera (1821-1889) was born in France and was in New York by the 1840s. He attended the New York College of Pharmacy and by 1849 had established a pharmaceutical business at 30 North William Street in Manhattan. In 1869, he opened a Brooklyn store at the corner of Atlantic and Clinton Avenues. This advertisement dates from the mid-1880s.
I was particularly intrigued by the Angelic Tooth Paste and the Fougera's Compound (at the top) - the latter being a "Diuretic Emmenagogue" which could be substituted for "Cod Liver Oil, when obnoxious." What is an Emmenagogue? It is any herb (such as mugwort) that stimulates blood flow to the pelvis and was used as a menstrual aid or an abortifacient, which is a bit more specific than a mere "stimulant tonic."
What made the Tooth Paste Angelic? I am not sure, but it probably was named to link the association of angels dressed in white with equally white teeth.
Also note Lancelot's Cigarettes for Asthma - a strange idea which I posted about awhile back, over here.
He also built a large 6 story apartment house in Brooklyn, the Fougera, in 1881-2; it cost over half a million dollars to build. It had forty eight-room apartments outfitted in grand style: each flat was to have "a clothes or drying apartment, fitted with the most modern appliances" and would be like "a complete house by itself." There was a grand lobby trimmed with "cabinet work" and "the richest cathedral glass" which lead to a grand staircase and an elevator (there was an elevator for "domestics" as well). There were also eight stores on the ground level, and steam heat throughout.
At Forgotten New York there are some photos of the building that replaced the Fougera at 200 Clinton Street, Brooklyn.
The advertisement is from LiveJournal Community Vintage Ads. Biographical information from The Proceedings of the American Pharmaceutical Association (Volume 2; Philadelphia, 1889) p. 11.
The information on the Fougera apartment building is from:
"Improvements," Brooklyn Daily Eagle, June 19, 1881, p. 3.
Advertisement, Brooklyn Daily Eagle, April 1, 1899, p. 9.
Fougera is still in business, by the way - here is their website.
I was particularly intrigued by the Angelic Tooth Paste and the Fougera's Compound (at the top) - the latter being a "Diuretic Emmenagogue" which could be substituted for "Cod Liver Oil, when obnoxious." What is an Emmenagogue? It is any herb (such as mugwort) that stimulates blood flow to the pelvis and was used as a menstrual aid or an abortifacient, which is a bit more specific than a mere "stimulant tonic."
What made the Tooth Paste Angelic? I am not sure, but it probably was named to link the association of angels dressed in white with equally white teeth.
Also note Lancelot's Cigarettes for Asthma - a strange idea which I posted about awhile back, over here.
He also built a large 6 story apartment house in Brooklyn, the Fougera, in 1881-2; it cost over half a million dollars to build. It had forty eight-room apartments outfitted in grand style: each flat was to have "a clothes or drying apartment, fitted with the most modern appliances" and would be like "a complete house by itself." There was a grand lobby trimmed with "cabinet work" and "the richest cathedral glass" which lead to a grand staircase and an elevator (there was an elevator for "domestics" as well). There were also eight stores on the ground level, and steam heat throughout.
At Forgotten New York there are some photos of the building that replaced the Fougera at 200 Clinton Street, Brooklyn.
The advertisement is from LiveJournal Community Vintage Ads. Biographical information from The Proceedings of the American Pharmaceutical Association (Volume 2; Philadelphia, 1889) p. 11.
The information on the Fougera apartment building is from:
"Improvements," Brooklyn Daily Eagle, June 19, 1881, p. 3.
Advertisement, Brooklyn Daily Eagle, April 1, 1899, p. 9.
Fougera is still in business, by the way - here is their website.
Friday, April 16, 2010
The Old Reliable Stick'em
Now my young friends, as you start out into the world, beware of your greatest enemy: the Stecher's Stick'em Fly paper.
The big fly looks like you'd need more than a piece of sticky paper to catch him, even if it did measure 18" by 24." And his head looks more like a cat's head under that dashing hat. Not frightening at all, except for his size.
I wonder what they have packed in those little bags?
[From The Pharmaceutical Era, July 1, 1893]
*****
There are some interesting book reviews coming up soon, by the way! Shire Books has sent me all sorts of wonderful books about various historical topics and I will be reviewing them over time on this and my other blog. Next week I'll be reviewing The Victorian Fern Craze by Sarah Whittingham, here - I'm reading it just now and learning all sorts of odd and fascinating things that I never knew about one of the most popular pastimes of the 19th century: gathering, displaying and growing ferns.
The big fly looks like you'd need more than a piece of sticky paper to catch him, even if it did measure 18" by 24." And his head looks more like a cat's head under that dashing hat. Not frightening at all, except for his size.
I wonder what they have packed in those little bags?
[From The Pharmaceutical Era, July 1, 1893]
*****
There are some interesting book reviews coming up soon, by the way! Shire Books has sent me all sorts of wonderful books about various historical topics and I will be reviewing them over time on this and my other blog. Next week I'll be reviewing The Victorian Fern Craze by Sarah Whittingham, here - I'm reading it just now and learning all sorts of odd and fascinating things that I never knew about one of the most popular pastimes of the 19th century: gathering, displaying and growing ferns.
Labels:
1890s ads,
Book Reviews,
Victorian Everyday Life
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
A Hiatus
I will be on hiatus over here for awhile - I don't know how long, but I thought it might be a good idea to let you know. I thought that I could research a historical mystery AND write/research history posts, but guess what: it isn't that easy, and they don't reinforce each other quite the way I had envisioned.
I am not closing VDM and I'm sure I'll be posting once in awhile. I just don't really know how often, that's all...And if I decide that fiction is not for me, I will be back a lot more, working on the non-fiction book that I hope lurks somewhere in some of the longer posts here (I still want to write that Victorian NYC true-crime book, just not this year).
There is plenty to read if you do visit VDM - 600+ posts over the last 2 years (another reason for a break, BTW). I'll try and make them more accessible through sidebar widgets and lists. And I am still going strong over at Kitchen Retro. That one is always fun and easy to write, off the top of my head - and I hope you will visit me over there.
I won't say goodbye because - well, that's not what this is. It's sort of like my blog is going to a spa for awhile while I do some other work (lucky old blog!). Cheers, and see you over at Kitchen Retro, I hope :)
I am not closing VDM and I'm sure I'll be posting once in awhile. I just don't really know how often, that's all...And if I decide that fiction is not for me, I will be back a lot more, working on the non-fiction book that I hope lurks somewhere in some of the longer posts here (I still want to write that Victorian NYC true-crime book, just not this year).
There is plenty to read if you do visit VDM - 600+ posts over the last 2 years (another reason for a break, BTW). I'll try and make them more accessible through sidebar widgets and lists. And I am still going strong over at Kitchen Retro. That one is always fun and easy to write, off the top of my head - and I hope you will visit me over there.
I won't say goodbye because - well, that's not what this is. It's sort of like my blog is going to a spa for awhile while I do some other work (lucky old blog!). Cheers, and see you over at Kitchen Retro, I hope :)
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