New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1922-08-06
Do You Remember
When the Crystal Palace Burned and
Broadway Was Cobblestonedp

w as AODDlGSIOnCCS
To the Editor of The Tribune.
Sir: My attention has been called
to letter in The Tribune from my
brother Frederick A. Hubbard, of
Greenwich, Conn, in which the Crystal
Palace Of New York is mentioned.
This subject revives many old men,
cries. | cannot locate Bryant ParkIit
is new name to me-but the palace"
was built on Sixth Avenue and Forty
second Street, Immediately west Of the
old reservoir. When it burned I was
on stage going up Broadway, and in
common with others I was fierce to get
there, as was the driver of the stage,
who ran his horses over the rough
stone pavement as fast as the traffic
permitted.
Broadway in those days, without traf-
fic police or signal towers, was a wildly
congested street, filled with the vigor-
Gus language of the stage and truck
drivers. When I reached the place
there was nothing left but a smoking
ruin, as the building was of flimsy con-
struction.
Many q tramp took around the top
of that old reservoir when was boy.
1t was decidedly rural spot in those
days. The Elysian Fields, over in Ho-
boken, was a popular outing spot on
Saturday afternoons where often went
with father. And Barnum's Museum,
just below the City Hall, consumed
many a Saturday afternoon amid les
wonders. The Battery was patronized
by very different class in those days,
and what is now the Aquarium was
then fort.
On one OF my visits, clinging very
tightly to fathers hand, we saw cor
don Of police leading lot Of Chinese
in native dress from large junk tied
to the Garden dock. The crew, as I
recall it, had mutinied because, without
being told Of their destination, they
had been brought so far from home.
One can hardly realize the changes
that haye come to New York. Think
of those white stages that received
your dime, handed to the driver
through round hole in the top! And
on a cold winter morning the only
comfort in that clumsy, rafting vehicle
was your own overcoat and gloves and
the little straw on the floor in which
you thrust your feet.
There were two lines, the Fifth and
the Madison Avenue, with terminals at
Fulton, Wall Street and Battery fer
ries. I remember the owners names
on the inside of the doors, Andrews &
wilkins, and ! doubt not they made a
were we'll cared for, and were said to
be selected from the stables of wealthy
men. The drivers, entirely unprotected
from the weather, were burly looking
lot, and at proper signal they might
lend hand as you climbed over the
front wheel to a coveted seat by their
side. But there was room only for one.
The streets were lighted by sperm
OH lamps, ana LHe ldIupllgnCeTS inaue
their rounds all night, picking up. the
wick, and removing the charred por-
ton. Round cobblestones, even on
Broadway, made the pavement, and
when the Belgian pavement came, with
it's square blocks, we thought nothing
could be better. The noise and un-
| regulated traffic of lower Broadway and
| Wall Street made them dangerous to
cross, and at Fulton Street a bridge
was built over the street. From a
nearby window an enterprising photog-
rapher took groups on that bridge
while his assistants arranged them, and
pickpockets often took" their money.
There are doubtless many old photo
graphs still in existence showing the
bridge, lot Of men in stovepipe hats
and medallion on the lower string
piece, bearing the date 1866.
L. P. HUBBARD.
| Medford, Ore, July 10, 1922.