Posts Tagged ‘Brooklyn Navy Yard’

October 16 is National Feral Cat Day. The following story is dedicated to all the feral cats in the world, and to all the nonprofit groups, like Neighborhood Cats, New York City Feral Cat, Alley Cat Allies, and the more than 60 incorporated animal shelters and rescue groups in New York City doing their best to help them.

Not every cat born at the Brooklyn Navy Yard went off to sea. Some landlubber cats stayed back to control the rat population.

Not every cat born at the Brooklyn Navy Yard went off to sea. Some landlubber cats stayed back to control the rat population.

In the early 1890s, the Brooklyn Navy Yard was overrun with rodents. Almost all the docks in the yard were in need of repair where they had been gnawed by the rats, and the losses in rigging, spare sails, and other wares were also great.

Unfortunately, there was not one cat to be found during this time period. To be sure, plenty of kittens had been born at the yard over the years, but kittens and their mama cats were all quickly scooped up by sailors who thought cats brought good luck to ships at sea (in fact, Tom, the famous cat of the U.S.S. Maine, was born at the Brooklyn Navy Yard around 1885).

Officials tried traps and poisons, but the rats simply made a sport of the traps and got fat on the poisoned food. They even brought in some dogs, but the canines were no match for the clever and ferocious rats – more often then not, the dogs would tear of out the yard in terror whenever they encountered the rodents.

Rear Admiral Francis T. Bowles

At 42, Francis T. Bowles was the youngest officer to ever hold the title of Rear Admiral, Chief Constructor of the Navy, when he took office in 1901. Bowles was also the first member of the construction corps to graduate from the Naval Academy, and was in charge of designing the Virginia-class battleships.

But sometime around 1893, a few landlubber cats entered the Brooklyn Navy Yard, and, discovering the large rodent population, decided to hide from the sailors and stay in place rather than go out to sea. Soon the rats and mice began to disappear. By 1900, there were more cats than rodents.

The Rear Admiral’s Cat Orders

In November 1900, President William McKinley announced his decision to appoint Francis Tiffany Bowles to the position of Rear Admiral, Chief Constructor of the Navy. One month later, Bowles, who had previously been in charge of the Brooklyn Navy Yard, told the men under him that they were not to hurt or interfere with any of the cats that prowled in the yard.

After all, the cats did not cost the government a penny — they were fed scraps of food saved for them at the various shops as soon as the bell rang at noon – and in return, they saved the United States government thousands of dollars a year by keeping the rats and mice away from the sheds and shops.

Wallabout Bay pre Brooklyn Navy Yard

At the time of the American Revolution, Wallabout was a quiet farming community of about a dozen inter-related families living in houses extending along an old road near the shore of Wallabout Bay, just north of present-day Flushing Avenue. The old Remsen’s Mill is also visible on the western edge of the bay in this 1776 map. Brooklyn Historical Society Map Collection.

A Brief History of the Brooklyn Navy Yard

The New York Naval Shipyard, more popularly known as the Brooklyn Navy Yard, is located on the Wallabout Bay, which takes its name from a group of French-speaking Walloons from Belgium who settled on the waterfront in the mid-17th century. One of the first settlers was Joris Jansen Rapalje, a Walloon tavern-keeper, who, in 1637, purchased about 335 acres of land and established a farm in the vicinity of the inlet called Waal-bogt Bay.

Following the American Revolution, around 1791, shipbuilder John Jackson and his brothers acquired a 100-acre crescent-shaped tract from the Commissioners of Forfeiture. The land included mud flats and the Remsen Mill property, where the bodies of dead American soldiers had been hastily interred during the war.

Interior of HMS Jersey prison ship

After New York fell to the British during the Revolutionary War, many Continental soldiers who had been taken prisoner were transferred to ships anchored in Wallabout Bay, like the HMS Jersey, depicted here. The over-crowding and squalid conditions on these ships led to about 11,000 deaths — many bodies were thrown overboard or buried in mass graves near Remsen’s Mill and in the mud flats along the bay. Dead bodies were often washed out of these graves by the tides.

Taking advantage of the existing dock on the property, the Jacksons built their own small shipyard and about ten houses for their workers. In 1801, the Jacksons sold the 42-acre shipyard to the United States government for forty thousand dollars. Five years later, the property became an active U.S. Navy shipyard. The yard expanded in 1824, when the government purchased an additional 35 acres along Flushing Avenue for a naval hospital and cemetery (I guess they didn’t have much faith in their hospital?), which was completed in 1838.

Within the western half of the Brooklyn Navy Yard, the government constructed the Commandant’s Quarters (Quarters A) and several brick storehouses, shops, foundries, and offices. Later, near the time of the Civil War, residences for naval officers were built at the corner of Flushing Avenue at Navy Street (Admiral’s Row). Check out this 3-minute video from the Municipal Art Society of New York on Admiral’s Row or take a photographic tour of the abandoned homes.

By 1900, when this tale of the black cats takes place, the yard comprised just over 112 acres.

Brooklyn Navy Yard

Farmland and cows were still part of the scene when the Brooklyn Navy Yard first opened in 1806.

The Veteran Ratters of the Brooklyn Navy Yard

In 1900, the two veteran cats of the Brooklyn Navy Yard were Tom and Minnie. These two black cats did their policing in the electrical building, where large quantities of oiled silk and other insulating materials were stored. The rats were quite attracted to these materials and would often gnaw on them before Tom and Minnie came to town.

Tom was a very large cat, while Minnie was not much bigger than a kitten and the smallest working cat in the yard. Despite her size, Minnie was the best ratter in yard – in fact, one workman said she was probably the best ratter in the world.

Minnie had full run of the machine rooms, and knew how to protect every wheel and strap. She’d dodge among the whirling belts and wheels in hot pursuit, and could tackle rats as big as herself. She could jump up to eight feet, and once jumped down an entire flight of stairs and landed right on a rat’s back. As one workman noted, “She deserves a gold medal for preserving the property of the United States government.”

1894 plan of Brooklyn Navy Yard

This plan provides a great overview of the Brooklyn Navy Yard in 1894, when the great rat-catching cats first arrived.

The Ratters of the Rigging Loft

Jerry, the oldest cat in the yard, arrived soon after Tom and Minnie in 1893. He was partners with George Dewey, who came to the yards in 1897. The two felines were responsible for patrolling the rigging loft in Building 8 on Chauncey Avenue, which had at one time been infested with rats and mice who did tremendous damage to the rigging.

George and Jerry worked alongside master sail maker William L. Cowan, a veteran of the Navy who served with the Potomac Squadron during the Civil War. William Cowan was a personal friend of four U.S. Presidents — Lincoln, Grant, Arthur, and Cleveland — and a member of the Paraguay Expedition of 1858. He took charge of the sail-making department at the Brooklyn Navy Yard in 1889 after Commodore George Dewey (no relation to the cat!) ordered that every ship repaired at Brooklyn have her sails made there also.

According to William, once George and Jerry went on the job, the loft was free of rodents, and he no longer had to worry about them running over his feet or trying to run up his pants. “You have no idea of the change that has taken place there,” Cowan told a reporter from The New York Times. “The mice used to be awful. They were so bold and fearless that they would come scampering over our hands while we were working at the rigging here.”


Jerry was the most unusual of the landlubber cats in the yard, as he was the only one to have gone to sea and come back. He took two trips on United State fleets, and also sailed on the Monongahela , shown here, with the Asiatic Squadron.

Jerry had a habit of taking long trips away from the Navy Yard on his own about once a month, but he always returned and worked overtime when the mice started to show up again in the rigging loft (I guess George couldn’t handle them all on his own.)

One time the cat was taken against his will by one of the workman who wanted to domesticate him at his home – he wasn’t about to be a house cat, and returned to the Navy Yard the next day. (Some feel he must have followed the sound of the bell tolling.)

Blacksmith shop, Brooklyn Navy Yard

Another larger black cat of the female persuasion presided over the blacksmith’s shop, shown here, in Building No. 11 on Warrington Avenue. She only freelanced at the yard, appearing about once a month to kill off any rats or mice that had tried to move in during her absence, and then disappearing for weeks at a time.

The Republican Cat of Carpentry

J.A. Cook, a workman in the ship carpenters’ department, also had a cat which he named Joan of Arc. According to Cook, Joan of Arc was a Republican feline who came from Omaha – but she could smell a rat just as quick as a Democrat. The workmen in this shop said they could set their watches by her, as she showed up every day at 11:55 a.m. to get some scraps of food and milk.

Lessons in Rat Catching

Jennie was a tortoise-shell cat who was employed in Building No. 20, the iron plating shop, where she worked with her owner, Bob Duke, in the construction and repairs department. She was the expert ratter in residence, who taught all her kittens the skills they needed to get their mouse. Jennie had kittens about every three months, and most of them were taken all over the world by the sailors that had adopted them as ship mascots.

Before they headed to sea, Jennie would give each kitten lessons in rat catching. She would do this by depositing a dead mouse on the floor and then carrying one of the kittens to the dead rodent. She get into a crouching position at some distance from the mouse, pounce upon it with a sudden spring, and growl fiercely. After repeating these steps several times, she would step aside and let the kitten mimic her actions.

Brooklyn Navy Yard 1956

At the height of its production of warships, the Brooklyn Navy Yard covered more than 200 acres. During World War II, the yard employed 70,000 people, 24 hours a day.

1,500 Cats Too Many

During the war years, many of the Brooklyn Navy Yard cats once again headed out to sea as mascots of the warships, which helped keep the land-based population in check. But ten years after World War II ended, the cat colonies started getting out of hand, forcing the Navy to override the old rules established by Rear Admiral Bowles and set traps.

Bill Wade, a former sailor and journeyman at the yard, would go around springing the traps in order to help save the cats. Twice, he was suspended for disabling the cat traps. He must have done a pretty good job saving them though: By the time he retired in 1965, there were about 1,500 cats on the property.

Bill Wade Brooklyn Navy Yard

Bill Wade, a former sailor and journeyman, would go around springing the traps in order to help save the cats. Twice, he was suspended for disabling the cat traps. He must have done a pretty good job saving them though: By the time he retired in 1965, there were about 1,500 cats on the property.

In June 1966, one week after the government officially closed the Brooklyn Navy Yard, former journeyman Bill Wade reached out to Judith Scofield, who had founded the Save A Cat League in 1957. The two met with representatives of the Navy and other departments – including Rear Admiral William Francis Petrovic, several enlisted men, representatives from the city health department, and representatives from the Brooklyn branch of the ASPCA — to discuss the fate of the abandoned cats. The Save A Cat League was given three months to find homes for any cats the Navy was able to safely trap.

Just a few hours before the meeting, however, three men reportedly came to the yard and took away many of the cats. Judith and Bill were furious. “What happened to those cats who were taken away just hours before we came and who were those men?” Judith asked. “Are those cats covered by the agreement the Navy made with us…? According to Judith, many people had expressed a desire to have a Navy Yard cat, and her organization would have had a good chance of getting homes for all of them.

Modern Navy Yard Cats

In 1967, New York City purchased most of the old Navy Yard property. In recent years, the Brooklyn Navy Yard Development Corporation has worked to gentrify the old yard into a light-manufacturing industrial-park with stores, museums and the 580,000 square-foot Steiner Studios. Check out this post on The Weekly Nabe for a quick tour of the BNYDC.

Jeffy Kings County Distillery

One of the new businesses is the Kings County Distillery, which occupies the 115-year-old Paymaster Building. After the building was flooded during Hurricane Sandy, the mouse population exploded. Distillery co-founder and master distiller Colin Spoelman brought in two cats — Carlos and Jeffy – to take command of the situation. Although Carlos has since gone over the Rainbow Bridge, Jeffy, pictured here, is still on the job (when not wearing the cone of shame).

Unfortunately, the former Naval Hospital and campus, abandoned in 1948, and the homes on Admiral’s Row were not part of the deal with the city. Over the years, these areas have become overgrown with creeping vines and downright spooky with their crumbling walls and peeling paint (The Kingston Lounge has some fabulous but eerie interior pictures of the Naval Hospital).

Feral cats, many descendants of the 20th-century ratters, roam the property and make their homes inside the old hospital and Civil War-era buildings, and within the fenced-in cemetery (which, by the way, still has a few hundred bodies that were left behind when most of the grave sites were moved to Cypress Hills Cemetery – click here to take a peek at the old burial grounds).

Today, a small group of women spend their own time and money taking care of the cats by setting up food stations, building shelters, getting them neutered, and taking them to the vet when they get sick. Wouldn’t it be nice if Steiner Studios or some of the other businesses and corporations stepped in to help care for the historical cats at the Brooklyn Navy Yard?

Peggy the Pug, The Maine

St. Paul Globe, March 1, 1898

During the 1800s and early 1900s, the Brooklyn Navy Yard served as a pseudo receiving and distributing station for the animal mascots of American warships. Some of these animals were born at the Navy Yard, while others stopped in to visit from time to time during their many years at sea.

In the late 1800s, an Italian-American sailor named Cosmero Aquatero was working as a barber on the USS Vermont, which was permanently anchored at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. During his years stationed in Brooklyn, he kept a record of the births and major events in the lives of these mascots in a dilapidated old book. In March 1898, a reporter from The World interviewed Aquatero about some of the famous ship mascots.

USS Vermont

Although the USS Vermont served briefly during the Civil War as a hospital, receiving, and store ship, she spent most of her service at the Brooklyn Navy Yard as a store and receiving ship. Here she is in Brooklyn in 1898, when Cosmero Aquatero was stationed there.

Two of the mascots that were well documented in Aquatero’s book were Tom, the mascot of the infamous USS Maine, and Peggy, the young pet pug of the ship’s captain. As two of the only 91 “crew members” who survived the massive explosion on board the Maine in the Havana Harbor in 1898, their lives were pretty incredible.

Tom, the Senior Navy Cat

Tom mascot cat Maine

Tom posed for this photo on board the USS Fern in February 1898. According to one account, the photographer had to give Tom a whole fish before he would stand properly for the photo.

According to Aquatero’s records, Tom was born at the Brooklyn Navy Yard in 1885 (an article in the St. Paul Globe says he was born on a farm in Pennsylvania, but I prefer to trust the old sailor). A grey and black tabby, Tom was very much respected by the sailors, who believed cats brought good luck to ships. There wasn’t a sailor throughout the world who hadn’t made his acquaintance over the years, and each mariner that sailed with Tom placed his greatest confidence in the cat.

Tom began his Navy career on board the USS Minnestota, but when an officer from that ship was transferred to the Maine, he brought Tom with him. On board the Maine, it was Tom’s job to get rid of the rats and the mice. However, it seems that one time the cat was trained to coexist with a rat named Christopher, which had been adopted and tamed by one of the ship’s sailors. As the story goes, cat and rat were able to stay in a room together, but they never did become good friends.

By 1898, when the Maine exploded in Havana, Tom was still an active member of the crew and considered to be the oldest cat in the United States Navy.

Peggy Pug The Maine

The World, March 6, 1898.

Peggy the Pug

Peggy was the pet of Captain Charles Dwight Sigsbee and his wife, Eliza Rogers Lockwood Sigsbee. The young little dog followed the captain all over the ship, no matter how many steps or ladders he climbed – one time she even fell and broke her leg while following him up a ladder. Peggy was suspicious of everyone in civilian dress that came on board the Maine, and barked at anyone who was not in uniform.

In 1898, when the Maine disaster occurred in Cuba, Peggy was not quite two years old.

The USS Maine and the Battleship Era

USS Maine

The USS Maine (ACR-1) was built in response to the increase of naval forces in Latin America.

The USS Maine and her sister ship, the USS Texas, were the first modern warships built in the United States. They were built in response to the growing naval power of Brazil, which had commissioned several battleships from Europe, most notably the Riacheulo in 1883.

In 1886, Congress authorized the construction of the Maine and in 1888, her keel was laid down at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. The 6,682-ton, steel twin-screw battleship was launched from the yard on November 18, 1889. The launch of the USS Maine officially began the “battleship era” for the United States.

USS Maine Launch, Brooklyn Navy Yard

The USS Maine was launched from the yard on November 18, 1889. Her launch sponsor was Alice Tracey Wilmerding, the granddaughter of Navy Secretary Benjamin F. Tracy.

Due to some equipment setbacks, the Maine was not commissioned until September 17, 1895, under the command of Captain Arent S. Crowninshield. The ship spent most of her active career with the North Atlantic Squadron, operating from Norfolk, Virginia, along the East Coast and the Caribbean. On April 10, 1897, Captain Sigsbee relieved Captain Crowninshield as commander of the
USS Maine.

Remember the Maine!

In January 1898, the Maine was sent from Key West, Florida, to Havana to protect American interests during the Cuban War of Independence. Three weeks later, at about 9:40 p.m. on February 15, a massive explosion ripped through the forward section of the ship.

Most of Maine’s crew was sleeping or resting in their hammocks in this part of the ship when the explosion occurred. Captain Sigsbee and most of the officers, on the other hand, were in their staterooms or their smoking quarters, which were in the aft section of the ship.

Captain Sigsbee in his cabin on the USS Maine.

Captain Sigsbee in his cabin on the USS Maine.

Peggy and Tom Survive

When the explosion occurred, Peggy the pug had been asleep in Captain Sigsbee’s stateroom. The captain was also in his cabin and placing a letter in an envelope at the very moment the explosion came. As the captain reported in The Century Magazine, there was a trembling and lurching motion of the vessel, and all the electric lights went out. Then there was intense blackness and smoke.

Somehow Peggy managed to find her way to the poop-deck, which was the highest intact part of the ship above water. There, the captain and Commander Richard Wainwright were waiting for the battleship to settle on the bottom of the harbor. Peggy, trembling with fright, reportedly stood at the place she was taught to take when the lifeboats were lowered.

Crews from nearby ships, including the Alfonso XII and the City of Washington, manned lifeboats to rescue the surviving crewmen of the Maine. Reluctantly, Captain Sigsbee and Commander Wainwright abandoned the Maine, which continued to burn and explode throughout the night. The next day, Peggy was “strutting about the deck [of the City of Washington] with air of a naval hero.”

Peggy and 62 human survivors returned to Key West on February 17 aboard the steamer Olivette.

Captain Charles D. Sigsbee, USS Maine

Captain Charles D. Sigsbee, USS Maine.

Tom’s experience was much more remarkable than Peggy’s, if not miraculous. At the time of the disaster, Tom was sleeping three decks below the upper deck. The force of the explosion was so great that he was literally fired through the three steel decks. The surviving sailors didn’t see Tom at all, and assumed he had perished.

Executive Officer Richard Wainwright

Executive Officer Richard Wainwright was the great-great-grandson of Benjamin Franklin, and nephew of George Dallas, the 11th Vice-President of the United States.

The next morning, Commander Wainwright discovered Tom, who was crying pitifully while crouched on a part of the wreck that was still above water. The officer rescued the cat and took him to the USS Fern, where he was treated for a wounded foot. A few days after the explosion, Tom posed for pictures on a wicker armchair that had been salvaged from the Maine.

Unfortunately, two other cats, including one that joined the ship in Cuba a few days before the explosion, did not survive. However, they did become martyrs for the emerging animal rights movement in the United States. (Animal rights groups often pointed to the Navy and its sailors for their humane treatment of animals as a model for the rest of the country.)

In a pro-cat book published by ASPCA, the author hailed the two cats who died for their country: “The love of cats by sailors and soldiers is well known. In the dreadful explosion of the Maine in Havana, two of the three cats perished.”

USS Maine cooks

This ca. 1896 photo of the USS Maine’s mess cooks was taken by Navy photographer Edward H. Hart. Two of the three cats in this photo did not survive the blast in Havana.

In total 260 men lost their lives as a result of the explosion or shortly thereafter, and six more died later from injuries. There were only 89 survivors, not counting Peggy and Tom, 18 of whom were officers. On March 21, 1898, the US Naval Court of Inquiry declared that a naval mine caused the explosion.

USS Fern

Old Tom continued his service with the USS Fern, which was a gunboat built in 1871 by Delamater and Steack of New York City. The ship served as a home for the officers supervising the wrecking operations in Havana Harbor.

A second forensic inquiry was conducted by Admiral Hyman Rickover in 1974, which confirmed that the cause of the Maine’s destruction was not a Spanish mine or bomb, but the detonation of the forward gun magazines.

Peggy the Pug Perishes

After spending time in Key West for some much-earned rest and relaxation, Peggy was given to U.S. Naval Commander J.Y. Wynn, who was stationed in Chelsea, England.

Soon after moving in with his family, she was outside playing when she either fell or jumped into a catch basin on Addison Street. Efforts were made at once to save her, but she was smothered before they could get her out. Peggy was taken to the Commander Wynn’s home for burial.