Armistice Day in Albany

The following is a lengthy excerpt from the 1919 book, “Albany’s Part in the World War,” by Harry Cohen describes how Albanians found out about the end of World War I and how they celebrated. On a personal note, while originally reading the author’s yarns, it was difficult not to imagine his voice being similar to Chevy Chase’s character, Andy Farmer, from the film “Funny Farm.” Soothing, yet with a hint of restrained craziness. While much of Cohen’s description sounds a bit embellished, the pictures certainly back up much of his story. November 11, 1918 certainly looked to be a raucous, jubilant day in Albany history.

Armistice Day, State Street between Pearl and Broadway.
Courtesy: Albany Public Library History Collection

A seething, leaping fire of joy, consuming alike all ages and both sexes, burst forth in Albany, burning away the fetters of doubt, sorrow and sacrifice that held it in check for 19 months.

Conditions never before experienced gripped Albany as news of the Kaiser’s surrender spread with lightning speed. Mercantile and industrial activities stopped for the day; street car and trolley service was demoralized for nearly twenty-four hours, every business agency in the community except the railroads, telephone service and newspapers, were crippled too seriously to even make a pretense of normal activity.

Even the Albany post office “close up shop” for the day. No deliveries were made and Postmaster William A. Murray gave out orders early in the morning that the inside work should be handled with the least possible number of men.

The day was in every way the greatest in the history of the community. Locomotive and shop whistles screeched out the news to the thunderous accompaniment of bells and the undertone of torpedoes, clappers, cow bells, rattling metal cans and horns. Parades organized and spontaneous, marched through the streets, while crowd records were shattered everywhere.

Notwithstanding the fact that thousands of men, women and children took part in the demonstrations in Albany. the entire day passed without disorder.

The few bulletins announcing that the armistice had been signed kindled a flame which swept through the city, lightening the hearts of its thousands with a warmth of thanksgiving that has not yet grown cold. The first tongues of the flame to reach the city came in the crackling sparks of the telegraph at 2:55 o’clock in the morning.

A panorama of the city would have revealed, at 4 o’clock, a vast stretch of buildings, dimly illuminated in the hazy lights of a thousand twinkling bonfires, and sparkling and glowing far into the distance with a myriad of flashing lights, as the news spread to the sleeping thousands, waking them to the glorious day.

The sun rose clear and bright, looking down on the wildest, noisiest, most joyous and most historic day in the history of Albany and the world.

One style of Liberty Loan poster from Albany, NY

Demonstrations Begin
Shortly after 3 o’clock the din of a score of locomotive whistles sounded from the Rensselaer railroad yards, A few seconds later the tremendous scream of hundreds of locomotive and shop whistles rent the air, as the West Albany yards and shops joined the chorus. Again church and other bells leaped into brazen, crashing accompaniment.

A bonfire leaped into a crimson glow and, rising higher, threw huge shadows along the Ten Eyck Building and far up State and Pearl streets. The blended paean of triumph from bells, whistles, voices and every noise-producing agency, continued with a rising note of delirious joy.

Crowds Collect
In miraculously short time, beginning with a few running figures, scores of men and women began to pour into the streets, then hundreds – and then thousands lent their voices and beings to the common feeling. Figures clad in humble garb, and figures clad in fur coats, danced arm in arm around the bonfires and shouted, screamed.

Up Central avenue, Washington avenue, Madison avenue – in almost every street, avenue and lane in the city, there sounded the short, staccato bark of torpedoes, the impudent blast of horns and the ever-increasing roar from human throats. Homes, factories, shops, railroad yards, and hotels speeded forth their thousands into the streets, the whole leaping, running, shouting mob heading with a common impulse for State street and Pearl street.

The crowd, pouring like a huge waterfall into a main stream of business, presented the most variegated gathering ever assembled in Albany. Old couples, their eyes dim with tears, plodded along in the crush, solicitous only for the safety of the sacred flags they carried, children running half dressed and with eyes staring, skirted the crowds in the street, dashing along; men and women of all classes, creeds and color were migled in the throngs that swept irresistibly along the streets.

Albany Mayor James R. Watt (1918-1921), the last Republican mayor elected in the city of Albany

Crews Abandoned Trolley Cars
At 4 o’clock in the morning, there were more than 20,000 men, women and children united in a laughing, crying, shouting, delirious crush near State and Pearl streets. Automobiles crowded to the running boards, darted through the street, miraculously escaping pedestrians. A few trolley cars, in the early morning, clanged along, vainly tempting to make up time lost. At 7 o’clock there was not a trolley car in operation, the crews having joined the throngs.

A beautiful, Indian summer day, which ordinarily would have drowned along in peaceful content, was transformed into one of great tumult.

At 7 o’clock, 50,000 persons were in the streets, and at 8 o’clock the down town district was a sight without parallel. It seemed that every man, woman and child in Albany was taking part in the demonstration, assisted by thousands of vistors.

Sight Without Parallel
As far as the eye could reach, great crowds filled the streets. A sea of flags, bunting, everything bearing the National Colors, met the eye on all sides. A score of spontaneous parades were twisting, dodging and plowing their way through all the down-town thoroughfares.

The greatest carnival could not excel the demonstration. The crowds surged aimlessly at great speed, brushing aside policemen and order within realization. A storm of confetti, paper torn into bits, yards of streamers, waste and cards, fluttered like a deluge of vividly-colored snow upon the throng from the windows and roofs of buildings.

The West Albany shops of the New York Central, the Delaware & Hudson Shops, every industrial plant, and almost every store, shop and business house, with the exception of hotels and restaurants, drug stores and cafes, were closed tight throughout the day. A few made half-hearted attempts to open, but the sweep of the celebration, which knew not eating hours, business or social or commercial appointments, was not to be gainsaid. Employees simply would not report for work, or if they did, would not work.

Armistice Day, State Street between Eagle and Pearl Streets

Din Increases
Like tiny midgets, boys ran wildly about, dragging tin cans and bells attached to ropes. The crowds tooted horns, rang bells, whistled, buzzed clappers, shouted – anything to drown the student rasp of countless automobile sirens.

Far down South Pearl street there was a greater tumult, and looking down the thoroughfare some saw the glint of the early sun flashed on bayonets. A closer look revealed the khaki garb of soldiers, as they swung along to the crashing march of a band. This was the first organized attempt at a parade. At noon the greatest procession of triumph ever formed in Albany, though disorganized, assembled at State and Eagle streets.

Arranged by Mayor Watt, this demonstration for victory swung into a semblance of a parade shortly before 1 o’clock. There were more than 25,000 marchers, Colonel Charles E. Walsh, marshal, declared. Impressive it was, though lacking in the perfect order and trimness of the usual procession.

City officials and Chamber of Commerce men with the Tenth Battalion of the New York State Guard, led the procession. Following came the Elks, the Training Detachment of Soldiers at the State College for Teachers, Boy Scouts, Red Cross units, units of the Albany Defense Corps, workers of the West Albany and the Delaware and Hudson railroad shops, the Ludlum Steel Plant, girl employees from scores of stores, the A. P. W. Paper Company and many industrial plants.

Impulsive Enthusiasm
The huge column passed through lanes of humanity so densely packed, movement was almost impossible. Down State street to Broadway they went, up Broadway to Clinton avenue, to Pearl street to Hudson avenue, through cheering thousands to the Plaza, where they disbanded. It was a procession born of common impulse and lead the enthusiasm of such a gathering.

Three hours were required for the parade to pass a given point. Fluttering flags and making noise with every conceivable device, the marchers swung proudly along to the lilt of music by seven bands and drum corps. Through streets an inch deep with paper and debris of every sort, they trudged, none faltering with the effort. Their arrival at each crowded point was accompanied by a roar that could be heard for a score of blocks.

The greatest crowd ever assembled in the Plaza filled every square foot when the column swung into the square. The assembled thousands were unable to extricate themselves from the crowd tangle for more than an hour.

Large and Small Demonstrations
Mayor James R. Watt, President Edmund N. Huyck and Charles M. Winchester, of the Chamber of Commerce, with Colonel Walsh and a staff of the New York Guard, promoted and conducted the procession of victory. After the disbanding of the parade the main column broke into scores of small parades and continued the spectacle until hours later.

In the smaller demonstrations were trucks of the Montgomery Coal Company, carrying the effigies of the Kaiser, John Bull, Liberty and Uncle Sam; wagons of the American Railway Express system, crowded to the roofs with cheering men; telephone operators riding on a truck from which a figure representing the Kaiser was hung; four men carrying a coffin representative of the Kaiser as a corpse. The workers of the North Albany shops were out in hundreds, taking a prominent part in the celebrations day and night.

Night brought a greater pandemonium than the day. Lights flashed in every sign and home window, gay crowds of thousands surged and wound through every street in the down-town section. Restaurants, theatres and every place of entertainment were crowded with gay revelers, and restaurants and cabarets were crowded until late in the morning.

The celebration attained its greatest intensity in the down-town section, but in every part of the city there were smaller demonstrations. Red fire glowed in all of the principal streets and hundreds of persons gathered at the corners in different parts of the city. Brightly colored electric lights were festooned on the porches of many homes in the western residential sections, and service flags, Liberty Loan and other war posters were displayed. Pictures of Wilson, Foch, Pershing, Diaz and Haig were displayed all over the city.

Very much in evidence, too, were burlesque imitations of ex-Kaiser Bill, trundled along in baby carriages, hung from poles and burned in bonfires. The Kaiser was much battered up throughout the city, being hung, burned, shot, dragged and assaulted in effigy at least a thousand times.

Nearly every theater crowd saw some sort of demonstration. In the Grand Theater war films and the news weekly, showing soldiers, were greeted with wild enthusiasm. In Harmanus Bleecker Hall, the Empire and in the other theaters and movie houses similar scenes were enacted.

Churches Join in Observance
The churches conducted services of thanksgiving. The more notable of these services were conducted in the Cathedral of All Saints and in St. Peter’s Church, where patriotic music and prayer took place. In almost every Catholic church services of thanksgiving were conducted.

Who was the Hotel DeWitt Clinton’s First Guest?

The corner of State and Eagle St, before and after the construction of the DeWitt Clinton

The corner of Eagle and State Street has always held a place in Albany’s history. It was the home of Albany’s 37th mayor, John Townsend, one of the city’s finest mayors, until his death in 1854. President Abraham Lincoln dined there in February of 1861 while it served as the home of New York Governor Edwin Morgan*. In 1926, Morgan’s old home, now a drugstore would be knocked down. Just a year later, the Hotel DeWitt Clinton rose from the ashes and has become an anchor  of Albany’s unique skyline ever since. The city’s anticipation grew as each brick was laid and its opening neared. Meanwhile, questions and speculation of just who would be honored as the first guests to stay in the fledgling hotel swirled around the city.

Shortly after noon on Friday, August 26, 1927, a man carrying no luggage and wearing a three-piece suit walked through the ornate doors of the Hotel DeWitt Clinton. At the front desk he opened the pristine guest book and on its blank pages he registered his name: Governor Alfred E. Smith. The popular New York Governor and United States Presidential candidate became the first guest in the Hotel DeWitt Clinton. That historic scene itself makes for a great story; the man that vied to be the leader of the free world would be first in the glorious new hotel across the street from the Capitol building where he had been governor for five and a half years. Yes, it makes for a great story, only there was one problem. Al Smith never stayed the night at the new hotel. He only signed the guest book.

Smith would later make the Hotel DeWitt Clinton his Democratic National Committee Headquarters in 1928

Later in the afternoon of that same day, 73 years to the day of Mayor Townsend’s death, the first paying guests would arrive at the hotel hoping that they would have the privilege of being the actual “first guest.” Among them were Mr. and Mrs. L. W. Cooper of Orange, NJ; The Benson Family who already lived in the city of Albany; Mrs. D. N. M. Pickett of New York City; Dr. Hans Schmidt who was visiting from Holland; and possibly the most interesting name in the group, Patrick McCabe. McCabe, the former Albany County Democratic leader was instrumental in the impeachment of his nemesis, Governor William Sulzer, while serving as the Clerk of the New York State Senate in 1913. The group was only permitted to use the rooms on the first two floors of the hotel, as the rest of the floors were still under construction.

McCabe as New York State Senate Clerk in 1913

So the question is, who among the group would be forever known as the first guest to stay in the Hotel DeWitt Clinton? Turns out that it wasn’t anyone who signed the guest book that day. Two floors above them, in a room on the unfinished fourth floor, slept a kitten fondly named, DeWitt Clinton, Jr. Shortly after Governor Al Smith left the hotel, the black and white cat wandered up to the front doors. Edward Hardy, a bell-boy for the hotel was given the job of waiting on their furry guest. DeWitt enjoyed breakfasting in bed, and sleeping the day away curled up on a fine down pillow.

Three nights later, the fourth floor was finished, and DeWitt Clinton, Jr. had to give up his room for paying guests. He was moved to a blanket-lined basket under the clerk’s desk in the lobby. Being used to a queen sized bed by now, this new arrangement for the pampered, little cat just wouldn’t do. DeWitt Clinton, Jr. left as mysteriously as he arrived. The Hotel DeWitt Clinton’s manager, Sherman Hill, said it best, “I’m afraid he may have gone to another hotel.” It’s possible that little DeWitt took up residence at the Wellington Hotel down the street where feral cats had been living for years after the hotel was boarded up.

In the end, the very first guest in one of Albany’s famous hotels was not the governor, or a democratic boss, a doctor, or even a housewife. It was a cat. A cat who was affectionately named after three meaningful things to Albany; one of New York’s finest governors, a steam locomotive**, and a young hotel on the historic corner of Eagle and State Street.

(*) The current Executive Mansion did not become the governor’s official residence until 1877. Prior to that, New York Governors would live in a home of their choosing.
(**) A six-foot model of the DeWitt Clinton steam locomotive was in the lobby of the hotel for its official opening in 1928.

Albany’s Lost Boardwalk

Yes, you read that right, the city of Albany once had a boardwalk. It wasn’t some cheap, little boardwalk either. This was a large, impressive boardwalk that drew thousands of people a day from all across the area. At one point it was characterized as a smaller version of Coney Island. It boasted scores of attractions with over two dozen buildings. Today, you won’t find any signs of its existence. So what happened to it? How did something of this size and popularity just disappear and become one of Albany’s best kept secrets? While it didn’t just vanish without a trace, its story almost did.

 Before we actually get into the glory days of Albany’s boardwalk, we need to go back to the beginning: the quiet arrival of a place named Pleasure Island. Sorry, Pinocchio fans, mutant donkey-boys need not apply. Pleasure Island sat on the west side of the Hudson River hugging the Albany-Menands city line. Despite its name, this wasn’t your traditional island. In fact it wasn’t even an island at all until 1823 when the Erie Canal cut through North Albany. The canal is what separated Pleasure Island from the rest of the city. Around 1880, give or take a year, the island received its name, and became a popular spot for picnics, baseball games, regatta races and even the occasional traveling circus. For the better part of 20 years Pleasure Island lived up to its name.

Pleasure Island newspaper ad circa 1882

Around 1898, Pleasure Island would go through a name change. The destination would be renamed Lagoon Island. In 1901, a large coliseum was built. It housed a motorized bicycle race track and was built over the old baseball field. The entire building was made of wood, even the track. For its time, it was quite sizeable with every eight laps equaling one mile (or a .125 mile lap for all of you math nerds). The motorcycle coliseum sparked the beginning of what would become one of the great early 20th century amusement parks.

“Rocky Road to Dublin” with inset of Max Rosen
Courtesy: Town of Colonie

In November of 1906, Max Rosen, general manager of the Al-Tro Park Company completed negotiations with Lagoon Island, making it the property of Al-Tro Park. Max Rosen’s plan was to move his existing Al-Tro Park on Troy Road, better known today as Broadway, to a larger property in order to expand his growing empire. He dreamed of building one of the most “elaborate and pretentious” summer resorts in this part of the state. Rosen put his money where his mouth was too, throwing down $150,000 (roughly $4,000,000 in today’s money) to make his vision come to life. Everything would be new at Rosen’s park, except for the rides. The plan was to move those from his old park. Otherwise it seems, Max Rosen spared no expense.

Al-Tro Park Opening Day Newspaper Ad circa: 1907

On May 30, 1907, Memorial Day, the new Al-Tro Park along the Hudson opened to wild fanfare. It was bigger, better, and more attractive than anything that had ever sat on that island. Al-Tro Park was appropriately inaugurated by Banda Roma, a famous 40-piece Italian band, acrobats, bicyclists, comedians and a primate circus (Professor Wormwood’s to be precise). All that in just the opening week! It seems all Max Rosen needed for his park was a T-Rex and a merry band of Velociraptors.

Courtesy: Universal Pictures

The park itself featured a roller coaster named “Rocky Road to Dublin”, a carousel, circular swings, a miniature railroad, a large theater, dance halls, a roller skating rink, penny games and food vendors, just to name a few. All of these attractions were linked together by one common feature, yup, the boardwalk. The wooden structure was an impressive 900 feet long and a width of 40 feet. The rides and buildings flanked the boardwalk for its entire length.

Al-Tro Park circa 1909

Al-Tro Park wasn’t just a hit with the public, it was a giant hit. But getting to the park in those days was no easy feat. In 1907 a trip four miles north of Downtown Albany wasn’t exactly a car ride away. Some people chose the United Traction trolley to North Albany, but the vast majority took a steamboat. At the time the Albany-Troy Steamboat Company ran boats between Troy and Albany every 30 minutes with a stop at Al-Tro Park. It cost a dime (about $2.50 in today’s money) for a patron to ride to either city or a nickel to just the amusement park. Four main boats ran the line; William H. Frear, Julia Safford, General Joseph B. Carr and R.C. Reynolds, all named for famous Trojans. The R.C. Reynolds started its transfers just two weeks before the park opened on the old Lagoon Island.

The R.C. Reynolds (left) and the Julia Safford in an undated photo

In the spring of 1910, the park had another name change (and most likely a company change). Al-Tro Park and its general manager were out, Maple Beach Park and new manager, J.J. Carlin were in. The new ownership continued to run the amusement park just like the old ownership right down to its extravagant daily shows. They figured if it’s not broke why fix it? However that would all change in the summer of 1913.

Al-Tro Park circa 1909
Courtesy: Town of Colonie

On September 14, 1913 around 6:30 in the evening, a fire broke out in an ice cream booth. The blaze quickly swept to every building and amusement stand on the boardwalk. William Riley, the island’s caretaker discovered the fire, but sadly there was nothing he could do. Maple Beach Park was not equipped with any fire extinguishers. Riley and J.J. Carlin, both powerless, could do nothing but watch the entire park go up in flames. Both the Albany and Watervliet Fire Departments were called, but neither could reach the island due to structural issues with the bridge over the Erie Canal. The fire was so spectacular it could be seen for miles around. Thousands of people in the area gathered along the canal to watch the island in flames. When it was over, the roller coaster, pavilions and even the mighty boardwalk was reduced to ashes. Nothing could be saved. Even the steamboat dock was destroyed. The fire’s heat was so intense many of the island’s trees withered and fell to the ground. With an estimated $200,000 in damage and only $15,000 in insurance it seemed Maple Beach Park was dead by the match of a suspected arsonist.

The following day, J.J. Carlin vowed that he would rebuild Maple Beach Park and make it better than it was before. Carlin was right, Maple Beach would be rebuilt, just not by him. He ended up selling the park to a company in Buffalo in June 1914. Incredibly in just one month, new general manager, H.B. Rogers did the impossible and recreated the park to match its original glory, almost. Maple Beach Park was reopened in July, albeit on a smaller scale, but it still boasted one of the largest dance halls in the state. Sadly, the fire proved to be eternally deadly for the once great boardwalk. The new owners chose to regrade the land and leave the boardwalk on the drawing board. That meant the end to Albany’s famed boardwalk.

Over the years, the park would eventually be sold to the Albany-Troy Steamboat Co. By 1918, Maple Beach was breaking attendance records again. Things seemed to be going well for the island, but that would be short-lived. Transportation by steamboat was going the way of the dinosaur. Automobiles were the new thing. In March of 1922 the park was sold to James S. Montgomery, a New York attorney, for a measly $50,000. This was where our trail ended with Maple Beach Park. The steamboats would soon suffer the same fate as the park. A year and a half later, in October of 1923, they too were sold off in liquidation, effectively ending the Albany-Troy Steamboat Co.

Some years later in May of 1931, the old park would make the news again, but unfortunately for the wrong reasons. Thomas DiLella, Jr. who went missing was discovered washed up dead on the island, by a one-armed railroad flagman named George Crinan. DiLella and his friend, Thomas Connors, rented a canoe to go fishing in the Hudson River. The canoe capsized tossing both boys in the water. DiLella would save Connors’ life, but ultimately lost his own when he foolishly went back to save the boat. He was buried in St. Agnes Cemetery.

Thomas DiLella, Sr. paying George Crinan a reward for finding his son’s body circa 1931

About 40-years later the entire island would meet its final demise. The Erie Canal would be filled in and a little road by the name of I-787 would be built on top of it, bringing a quiet end to Pleasure Island, and forever covering its mysterious existence.

Yes, Albany once had a boardwalk.

Addendum:
The steamboats were such a vital part in Al-Tro Park’s success we thought it would be doing a disservice by not explaining what happened to them after the Albany-Troy Steamboat Co. shut its doors. The following is from the 1959 history edition of the Troy Record.
Victor– Built in 1854 for use on Long Island Sound and in waters adjacent New York. Came to the Troy-Albany line about 1915 after being purchased for $5,000. Known as a “cranky” boat by her crew and hard to handle, the Victor was only in use for a short time when it was sold and left this vicinity.
William H. Frear– Built in 1898-99 and first operated between the two cities May 30, 1899. The boat inherited the engine and boilers of the earlier William M. Whitney of the Troy-Albany line. After the company discontinued business, the Frear, in September 1922 was taken to the Marvel Shipyard at Newburgh and tied up. The following spring it sank at it’s moorings and was not raised, gradually going to pieces.
Julia Safford– This boat was originally the Pilot when launched at Roundout in 1892. It was later lengthened and renamed. On Oct 15, 1920, the Safford was sold to the Florida Transportation Co. for $14,000 and was used on Biscayne Bay. In 1924, she was beached there and abandoned.
Gen. Joseph B. Carr– This boat along with the Safford, were the two smaller vessels of the line. Following liquidation of the company, the Carr was sold to southern interests and a few years later abandoned there.
R.C. Reynolds– Built on Noank, Conn., in 1896 as the John G. Carlisle and operated on the Fulton Ferry in New York. In the early 1900s she became the property of the Troy-Albany line. Following alterations, she began service May 15, 1907. When the line was discontinued the Reynolds became a ferry between Verplanks Point and Thompsons Cove. It was destroyed by fire at Kingston in 1924 and its captain was drowned.
G.V.S. Quackenbush– Built at New Baltimore in 1878. This boat was originally the J.G. Sanders. As the Quackenbush she sank off the Center Island August 1, 1919 after striking an obstruction on her up-river trip and became a total loss.