Waxy Washington’s Unfatherly Wink

Long before Albany had the New York State Museum anchored to the southern end of the Empire State Plaza, the city had its own on the corner of State St. and Broadway. On September 18, 1809, the Museum was first advertised by its proprietor, Henry Trowbridge. While it was called a museum, it dealt more in the curiosities than the history and culture of the world around it. One such account from an 1868 edition of the Southport Chronicle (a newspaper based in Connecticut) published a humorous story of an event that took place in the Albany Museum on our nation’s 76th Independence Day.

A funny incident which happened at the old Albany Museum, in the good old times when the drama, wax figures and other curiosities were in vogue at that place, in thus related:
On the 4th of July, 1852, a patriotic addition to the show being desired, Charles Salisbury, a comical genius, notorious for his practical jokes, was chosen to represent George Washington, and, of course, was dressed in the traditional costume. The doors had just been open for the evening performance and visitors had commenced thronging the curiosity rooms, when a mischievous idea struck Mr. Salisbury, who, opening the door of one of the waxwork cases, unobserved, took a position among the figures and tried to look as immovable as possible. A queer countryman, his wife and daughter, a young miss of 18, were the first who entered. As the young lady approached Washington, he bestowed on her a most unfatherly wink.
“Good gracious, ma,” exclaimed she, “that figure of Washington winked at me.”
“Nonsense, child,” exclaimed ma, “you are so conceited you think everybody is in love with you.”
But at this moment she was almost speechless herself, for the venerable Washington has applied his fingers to his nose in a very suggestive manner.
“Oh, William!” she exclaimed, grasping her husband’s arm, “do look at that.”
“What is it?” asked William; “why I believe you women folks are crazy.”
At this moment Gen. Washington struck a belligerent attitude and uttered a terrific yell. In an instant the whole party tumbled down stairs, pellmell, and related the wonderful story, while Washington quietly slipped off to his dressing room, laughing in his sleeve at the joke he has practised.

The Albany Museum was closed three-years-later in 1855. Most of the items within, including the wax models, were sold and ended up as a floating museum on a Mississippi River riverboat. No word on whether the imposter George Washington made his way west or not.

The Address to One of America’s Biggest “What Ifs”

Finding something previously lost in Albany history really isn’t that rare when you think about it. With 400 years of European history stomping around these streets, there are bound to be little nuggets that fall through the cracks of those old granite setts. When one of those little morsels is a piece of one of Albany’s most popular and ironic tales, then you know you’re sailing in strange waters. The story I’m referring to is, of course, the tale of Abraham Lincoln and John Wilkes Booth walking our familiar Albany downtown on the very same day.

As the story goes, Lincoln arrived in Albany on the afternoon of February 18, 1861, while John Wilkes Booth was preparing to return to the Gayety Theatre on Green Street. Six nights earlier, he accidentally injured himself with a prop dagger that was in his coat’s inner right pocket. It’s odd to think that while Booth was bleeding profusely on a small Albany stage, Abraham Lincoln was celebrating his 52^nd birthday in Cincinnati, Ohio.

The Gayety Theatre first opened two years earlier, in the spring of 1859. When we say the place was small, we’re not kidding. A packed house held 600 people and that was probably breaking every fire code in the book.

There’s always been one little caveat when it came to the Gayety. Where exactly was it located? Well, it’s complicated and we didn’t really know for sure – until now.

Why would finding the address of an old Green Street theatre be that hard? For starters, there was another theatre on Green Street named the old Green Street Theatre that ran for a number of years in the early 19th century before converting to a Baptist Church and again some years later in the mid-1850s. After the Green Street Theatre closed in the 1860s, it was later reopened and renamed the Gaiety Theatre at 61 Green Street. Yeah, same name, different spelling. Over a number of years, this has led to a bunch of misconceptions as to where the actual Gayety Theatre, where John Wilkes Booth performed, is located. To make matters worse, another stage called the New Gayety Theatre opened in the early-mid 20^th century on that same street (and in a different location than the Gayety and Gaiety Theatres at 74 Green St). That’s a lot of Gai(y)ety for one narrow little street.

Through the process of elimination and the power of the 21^st century internet, the location of the Gayety Theatre has been found. How did we get there? In the 1880 book “Players of a Century: A Record of the Albany Stage,” it states the Gayety Theatre sat on “the east side of Green Street, two or three doors south of Beaver.” Excellent start. The hunt was immediately chopped down to one side of one block: Green Street’s even numbered buildings between Beaver Street and Hudson Avenue.

Now that the exact block is known, it’s time to dig up the Albany City Atlas of 1876. This atlas goes in depth on where each numbered lot sits. Between Beaver Street and Hudson Avenue are the addresses that range from 26 – 44 Green St.

Next up – combing through the 1866 Albany City Directory and searching each individual address. No hits came up for 26, 28 or 30 Green St. A little firework goes off for 32. It states it’s a carpeting and upholstering business. Interesting. Prior to opening as a theatre, the building was, in fact, a carpet store. Let’s dog-ear it and keep looking. 34 Green Street is next on the list and a search turns up it was the home of the American Theatre, which also served as a saloon. Could it be? The name was gone but the service is there. A man named Samuel Fitzpatrick was the proprietor. No further searches were found stating an American Theatre ever existed on Green Street. The trail went cold for the building, but Samuel Fitzpatrick opened a whole other method of hunting. According to an 1862 edition of the “Albany Morning Express,” Fitzpatrick was a proprietor of the Gayety Music Hall (home of the “late Gayety Theatre.”)

Fitzpatrick is now tied to the former Gayety Theatre (we have no address) and an American Theatre (we do have an address). More searches would show Samuel Fitzpatrick was tied to the Gayety Music Hall all the way through 1864, when one article from the “New York Clipper” stated the Gayety Music Hall was being “thoroughly renovated, painted and upholstered,” and hoped to reopen in August of that year.

It must have reopened at some point, at least for a little while, because according to the 1865 Albany City Directory, Sam Fitzpatrick worked for the Gayety Theatre on 34 Green Street. There you have it, the long lost spot of the Gayety is 34 Green Street (currently slated to become a portion of the Tower on the Hudson.)

Its exact location has no fanfare and is merely a parking lot and parking garage. This chunk of blacktop and brick is the site where our American history could have been completely altered. This is the site where John Wilkes Booth’s blade could have gone an inch deeper into his right armpit, causing him to completely bleed out and die on that little Albany stage on Lincoln’s birthday. Instead, it’s nothing more than a tragic side note in local theatre lore. Had that happened, Abraham Lincoln would have never been assassinated, he could have completed his second term and ridden off into the sunset. James Garfield would have become the first U.S. president to be murdered and labeled the country’s martyr. You can go on and on with all of the “what ifs.” We’ll never know because that blade landed where it did. But what we do know now is where it all happened. 34 Green Street, the site of one of America’s largest “what ifs.”

Plan for the Capital City; What Might Have Been

In June of 2014, All Over Albany, expanded upon a tweet we had about a defunct plan for the city of Albany that was unveiled in 1963. To celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Empire State Plaza’s cornerstone ceremony, the New York State Museum recently put a large scale model of the city on display in their main lobby. Wouldn’t you know it, it’s the same one devised from the Albany: Plan for the Capital City commission report. Below is the map of the commission’s grand plan of Albany by 1980.

With a quick glance you’ll notice much of downtown Albany along with the Arbor Hill and Center Square neighborhoods would be razed in place of 1960s era buildings. Most of this plan was never realized, and fifty years later it appears that the city dodged a deadly bullet. While the Empire State Plaza gutted 98 acres of neighborhood in the downtown area, it looks like child’s play compared to what was proposed.

Below is a series of pictures of the scaled model of the city’s plan. The gray colored buildings are already in the Albany landscape while the white ones would’ve been new construction. That’s a lot of white. A few things didn’t translate from the plan to the model due to constantly changing ideas. For instance, in the map the South Swan Building is no where to be found but in its place is a series of curved apartment buildings. Speaking of housing, Sheridan Hollow is completely devoid of any housing and is replaced with what appears to be a park.

If you haven’t had a chance to get down to the New York State Museum to see it, it’s definitely worth the trip. You could easily spend 20 minutes on this model alone deciphering what survived and what could have been. It’s also enormous. The pictures don’t do justice to the size of the model. The exhibit is on display through January 17, 2016 at the New York State Museum.

Notice some of Center Square and most of the Lincoln Park neighborhoods have been wiped out with apartment buildings.

Running between the VA Hospital and Hackett Middle School was the proposed Washington Park Arterial. That never materialized either.

Much of downtown Albany was wiped clean. A slew of hotels and office buildings would’ve popped up all along Broadway and State Street. This is also how the Dunn Memorial Bridge would have looked if it was completed to its original potential.

A view of downtown from North Albany

This was the proposed Convention Center on lower Hudson Ave, around the spot of the Van Ostrande-Ratliff House. Albany’s oldest building would have gone down with the ship.

Here’s Sheridan Hollow, completely lacking any residential, but the Hawk Street Viaduct survives, and even has a new companion; “The New Eagle Street Viaduct.” In the foreground are footbridges to the Creative Arts Center and marina.

The Riverfront Interstate, or as we know it now, I-787. Named for being in front of the river, AKA why everyone hates it.

The view of Albany from the area around the Patroon Island Bridge. Even the planners knew they couldn’t get rid of that monstrosity of a cold storage building. It still stands, along with the Livingston Ave Bridge.

Notice the D&H Plaza? It’s been chopped in half and Hudson Ave would’ve extended right to the D&H Administration Building.