The Morning News

THE STORY OF CROKER

A Tale as Wonderful as Any in the Arabian Nights.

Boyhood Home and Education-Pugilistic Prowess as Leader of the Fourth Avenue Tunnel Gang-The Secret of His Power.

(Copyright, 1893.)

New York, Dec. 23.-There is something almost weird about the rise of Richard Croker. To contemplate the man as he is, the princely ease in which he lives, the imperial sway he exercises, is to render impossible a realization of the fact that not many years ago he was destitute-destitute of power, means, influence. What is the secret of it all? How comes it that an unread, untutored laborer, the son of an ignorant blacksmith, has lifted himself from the streets to a throne of municipal Caesarism, more absolute than that in which sat Lorenzo-the Magnificent, when Florence was a queen of cities? About the slums of New York to-day men are prowling, ragged and unwashed, who in other years called Croker "Dick," and idled with him on Third avenue street corners.

I.

FIRST YEARS.

Richard Croker was the third of seven children. He was born in County Cork, Ireland, in 1840, his birthplace being a gathering of little huts not far from "the city of the proud harbor." It has been stated that 1843 was the year of his birth, and also that April 10 is his birthday, both of which allegations have been denied by Mr. Croker himself. It is, indeed, declared that New York's boss does not know on what day he was born, and his own father, Eyre C. Croker, of Cork, Orangeman, said not long before he died that he did not remember whether his boy Dick or his boy Ed. was the oldest. Eyre Croker, father of the "boss," seems to have been a peculiar character. He was the blacksmith of his native hamlet. married early in life, and by the year 1850 found himself the possessor of a dwindling business and a growing family. His wife she now lives in the house of Dr. Jenkins of quarantine fame, who married Richard Croker's sister-proposed emigrating to America. This the blacksmith did not wish to do. It is the idlest platitude to remark that the elder Croker never dreamed in those days that he and all of his would yet live in dignified ease at the expense of the tax payers of New York city. For every member of the family has derived pecuniary profit from the municipal treasury either as employe or as indirect beneficiary. It was not until 1851 that the Crokers landed in America. They came over in the steerage of one of the old emigrant tubs. The father fell in with a fellow Orangeman during the voyage and was advised to drop blacksmithing. He must be a veterinary surgeon. The hint was acted upon. It was the village blacksmith who emigrated from Cork with his wife and children, but the new world received him as "Eyre C. Croker, veterinary surgeon."

Little Dick was then 11 years old. His first home in the city he was destined to rule was an old farm shanty just off Ninety-ninth street, in a place that is now part of Central park. It was a crazy 2-storied structure, surrounded by high rock and a growth of trees and rubbish. Here the "veterinary surgeon" made some feeble efforts to get together a "practice." Some of the old Harlem squatters still remember the Crokers, but no one particularly recalls "little Dick." The only definite thing now recalled is that the "veterinary surgeon" had pronounced Orange tendencies and could not get along with his Catholic countrymen on that account. One day he came home from an Orangeman's parade and made a sneering allusion to the papacy. He was promptly knocked down by old Col. Bowe, whose son afterwards became sheriff of New York. Early in 1852 the Crokers were living at No. 103 East Twenty-sixth street, a house which still stands, not much altered. Needless to say, "Dick" did not live in mansions then. The neighborhood was poor and so were the people. Yet in the vicinage Croker's youth and manhood were passed. In December of 1854 the whole family again moved but only the distance of a block or so. The new address was No. 54 East Twenty-eighth street, a property which no longer exists under that designation. It was far humbler than the one they just quitted, but the Crokers were in it full fledged tenants, not sub-tenants. The "veterinary surgeon" was not doing particularly well. So Mrs. Croker took respectable mechanics as boarders. For years she toiled as best she could, and Dick was the only one who helped her much. George was the first to earn money. "Ed," another brother, was something like his father. Such schooling as Richard Croker got in his life he is indebted for to the public school which still stands on East Twenty-seventh street, near Third avenue. "Dick" was 12 when he began attending it, and of course, fit only for the primary. Miss Francis M. Faulkner was head teacher, succeeded in 1854 by well known Martha Gapper. William H. Wood was principal of the male department. They remembered Richard Croker in after years as a noisy, dark-haired urchin. During his last year there he was many a time sent home with a "bad rate" for fighting. It is further recorded that "Dick" could not read without first spelling out the words aloud. Mr. Croker achieved note in his 52d year by suggesting the use of what he was pleased to call party "symbols" on printed ballots, a fact which indicates what sort of an education he managed to acquire in Twenty-seventh street. Even at that early age Richard Croker was the leader of a gang. They were his schoolmates and Principal Wood had no end of trouble with them. It is notorious that old Croker never had any influence over Dick. The mother did. He was her favorite son. When he had money he shared it with her. During his rise to power he did not forget her. The father was not so much in favor. To be sure, in after years Croker persuaded Alderman afterwards Sheriff James O'Brien, to make old Eyre, a keeper in the parks and afterwards a nominal horse doctor in the Thirty-second street stables of the Harlem Car company. But that was only an indirect way of being good to his mother.

II.

EARLY MANHOOD.

It was in 1856 that Richard Croker began to battle for himself in the world. The Crokers were down at the heel. The father still made no money. Mrs. Croker's boarders were not Those who remember the family's circumstances about this time draw a very pathetic picture of domestic suffering. Croker's two sisters, who lived with their father on Lexington avenue for years, had often nothing to eat. Dick was put into the Harlem railway machine shop. This place stood in the center of the district now occupied by Seventy-first Regiment armory and a well-known hotel. The hotel occupies the site. Anyone curious enough to know how Croker looked and lived between the years 1856 and 1866 need but go among the habitues of Third avenue near Twenty-first street and up the thoroughfare as far as Twenty-fourth street. The teamsters and mechanics there remember him well. Croker literally pervaded this region. At Thirty-fourth, Thirty-second and Third avenue live many of his old schoolmates and cronies. Here arose the influences that made him. Here he met McCabe, and Sheridan and Bernard Costello. Here he first came under the notice of James O'Brien, and in after years of John Kelly. And here he first discovered-and the fact has been of tremendous import to the city of New York-that the ringleadership of a gang had political value. Richard Croker's first situation was that of choreboy to a railway shop force at $2 a week. The first week he got nothing, being on trial. It is easy to get a description of him at that time. He was heavy and stupid. The "fellers" called him "Dick." It is still recalled that during his first weeks he almost broke another boy's jaw with a blow of his fist. That was always Croker's way. He never said much. He was big and weighty. ragged and unkempt. They laughed at his awkwardness. Croker knocked them down. He never argued a point with his mates. He simply knocked them down By the time he was 20, Croker had fisted his way to sub-leadership in the Fourth avenue tunnel gang. The Fourth avenue tunnel gang was, as its name implies, a union of choice spirits, with the then partially developed Fourth avenue tunnel as a headquarters. Of course, Croker was not immediately admitted to full membership in this league. He had to win his spurs. Even up to 1860 Croker was not permitted to rule the gang. Indeed, it may be said that the gang, unlike the city of New York, never gave itself up to Croker's absolute sway. Its members were idle mechanics, unemployed hackmen and street roughs. They terrorized the Twenty-first ward. The most famous member of the Fourth avenue tunnel gang was a chap named "Ed" Quigly. He was a giant in strength. a tyrant in disposition and a mechanic by trade. He hated Croker. Many a fist fight the two had. They were rival bullies, with Quigly in the lead. The present boss of New York used to be kicked from one street corner to another by this man. Visit the old haunts of the gang and its one time members will say: "If Quigley had lived there never would a' been no Dick Croker." Quigly had both his legs cut off by a train in the tunnel. He laughed when they took him to the hospital. He died in early manhood, a circumstance to which New York is indebted for its opportunity to contribute such a wealth of unique material in the person of Richard Croker towards a history of municipal government in America. Then there were the Riley boys, sons of section foreman Riley. Many a time those lads have wiped the pavements of Third avenue with Richard Croker. Ask any of the boss's old pals why they never go near Dick nowadays and your simplicity will cause a smile. They never could get to him. The man can now afford to despise the ladder by which he has climbed up. Croker is rarely beheld on the scene of his early triumphs. He has turned his back on the friends of his obscure days. Of all the fist fights in which Richard Croker has participated, three at least must be mentioned in an impartial biography: First, his fight with Reddy Hoskins in McAnearny's cellar; second, his fight with Pat Kelly in the latter's saloon, Thirty-fifth street and Third avenue; and third, his fight with Dickie Lynch in Jones' Woods on a Sunday morning. In one of these contests Croker chewed off his opponent's ear. His friends say it was Pat Kelly's ear, and others claim it was Dickie Lynch's ear. One of Croker's fighting methods lay in this use of his mouth. Amid the fury of a fist fight, as many members of the Fourth avenue tunnel gang learned to their cost, he would rush upon his antagonist, bear him to the ground by sheer weight and then bite.

III.

A SUDDEN CONVERT

That part of New York city which, up to 1867, was the scene of Richard Croker's struggles and triumphs, has long been noted as the most famous Catholic parish in the United States. There is St. Stephen's church, and at the period in question its pastor was a young man who has since become one of the most celebrated priests this country has produced. Edward McGlynn. Clustered about the sacred edifice and the home of the youthful clergyman were the dwellings of the parishioners, thrifty working people mostly. In no part of the world probably would there have been found a priest and a flock more zealous in the faith, more prompt to resent any insult to it. The effect of such anti-popery activity as Eyre C. Croker manifested was not, as may be expected, calculated to recommend him to these people. Old Croker was an aggressive Orangeman, who paraded on each recurring anniversary of the battle of the Boyne and had but an indifferent opinion of cardinals and the Vatican. In justice to him, moreover, it must be acknowledged that he never hesitated to stand up for his views. Naturally, he brought up his children to his way of thinking. James O'Brien was at this time the political leader of the district. He had been chosen alderman by a large majority, and when Richard Croker concluded that he too would be an alderman it was but proper to consult leader O'Brien. Accordingly, a "delegation" waited upon that gentleman. This was early in 1867. The delegates were led by Bernard Costello and "Ed" McCabe. The peculiar qualifications of Richard Croker for membership in the board of alderman of the city of New York were duly set forth and Mr. O'Brien was requested to indorse them. Mr. O'Brien, while not denying the validity of the arguments presented to him, found an inseparable obstacle in the objectionable know-nothingism with which the name of Croker was connected. The "delegation" declared that their candidate belonged to no religion, but Leader O'Brien answered that there had been too much feeling aroused over the matter. Finally, after much pestering, he explained: "The only way your man Croker can get the nomination is to join the Catholic church." Alderman, now ex-Sheriff O'Brien, declares to this day he never dreamed his words would be taken seriously. But that night Croker joined the Catholic church. That is, he joined after a fashion of his own. Alderman O'Brien says he was completely nonplused when the news was brought to him a few days later. There was nothing for it but to oblige Croker's friends by nominating him. For the next few weeks the leader of the Fourth avenue tunnel gang swaggered about the Twenty-first ward in the new and interesting character of a pillar of the church. Now here is where Croker showed the thick headedness which invariably proves fatal to the success of anything he may undertake in which bullying is not the modus operandi. In 1867 he was "converted." Dr. McGlynn, in answer to a question, said recently: …I remember Mr. Croker's case. He was a Protestant, but it seemed only natural that he should change his belief. for all his associations were Catholic, and at the time I received him into the church, he was engaged to be married to a most estimable young Catholic lady. I baptized him not long before his marriage. How long I cannot say, for I am speaking from memory. John Kelly was best man at the wedding. Fortunately there is no need to depend upon any one's memory. The records of St. Stephen's church tells the whole story. Richard Croker was married in 1873, and he was not baptized until after he became engaged. For nearly six years he was claiming to be a Roman Catholic before he had received the sacrament of baptism.

IV.

THE MAN TO-DAY.

Many things about Richard Croker have been made so familiar to the people of New York by constant repetition that even allusion to them is tiresome. Hence, in the present attempt to present the less known facts of his career, no mention has been made of his trial for murder, of his various incumbencies of office and of the jobbers with which his name is associated. But there is one circumstance in the present condition of Richard Croker which seems invested with a perennial interest—his wealth. Many persons declare that Croker is worth over $1,000,000, but when such persons are asked what his wealth is they cannot answer. To be sure they will point to the stately mansion on Seventy-fourth street, which cost for the bare house about $250,000, and in the princely fitting up of which a sum far in excess of that amount was expended. The decorating of one room alone cost $25,000. But a mortgage of $150,000 covers the property, and Croker's other house on Morris avenue. It is alleged that this incumbrance is a blind, a trust company holding it in favor of a near relative. But how can this be shown? Then the stock farms and racing studs are referred to. But the Richfield Springs farm land was sold a few years ago for $100,000, and even offered for $50,000, and since it became Croker's it has hardly increased in value. The same is true of the southern property. Yet, say the believers in the fabulous fortune, there are the horses. Croker's horses have attracted great attention. His possessions in that line are valued at $500,000. Now, Croker never paid any such sum for them. Any turfman has a list of the Croker animals at his fingers' ends, and no such sum as half a million would be given for the entire list. So that item must be cut down. It is well known that the intrigues in which Tammany figures often have a profound effect upon Wall street. Many a fortune in stocks has dwindled and shrunk in consequence of some secret conference in the wigwam. Many an accusation has been made that Croker has not hesitated to invest upon the "tips" he has access to. But what evidence exists that this is so? What stocks as holdings are certainly known to be Croker's? Suppose the investigation committee, of which so much is whispered just now, really came down from Albany, could any one disprove before it Croker's sworn statement that he is a poor man? His assets would shrink like a sensitive plant. As for his liabilities no one but himself knows their amount, but there is no reason to believe they are large. Richard Croker has not a vulgar look. His present appearance has that rough distinction observable in a big, well fed, well groomed dog. He is always well attired, looking like a bank president somewhat, in his rich black cutaway coat and waistcoat and fine striped unemphatic trousers. His only jewelry are one ring, a gold watch and chain with seals and gold studs and shirt buttons. He is very solicitous about his two big boys, and frequently accompanies them to places of amusement. These, however, are not Mr. Croker's only virtues as a family man. Every relative of his who is so fortunate as to dwell within the limits of New York city draws money from the municipal treasury. Mr. Croker's brother George has a lucrative court clerkship. Another brother, Edward, is dead but he left two sons. One of them is chief of the First battalion; the other succeeded his own father in the department of public works. Mr. Croker's sister Sarah is also dead, but another sister is now the wife of one Samuel Warren. Samuel Warren is in the custom house. The fact that Mr. Croker's third sister married Dr. Jenkins has also been the making of that physician, for he is practically the New York board of health. Even Mr. Croker's relatives by marriage are provided for, one of them being Capt. Collins, of the Park police, while another set of public revenue receivers, the Fallons, are equally indebted for all their worldly influence to their Croker kinship. That characteristic which prompted his old pals to call Richard Croker "thick" is manifest in the man to-day. He is taciturn, and, with his stubby, stocky beard and slow, ruminative air, seems to possess wisdom in a heavy way. When he is spoken to he will look up, think a moment, and when apparently on the brink of utterance, he will look gloomily at you as much as to say: "You thought I was going to say something, didn't you? But I'll keep my mouth shut." Such is the man who made the oath of poverty before an investigating committee. Mr. Croker lives a leisurely life now. As stated, he gives much time to his home and his horses. One of his recent characteristics is an awakening pride in his ancestry. There was a Crofton Croker some generations back who had a certain literary vogue in his day. He wrote for the Dublin Review, and met the wits of that time on terms of equality. Richard Croker is becoming interested in Crofton Croker and the heraldry office. But, how comes it that Richard Croker instead of some other man, rose to the boss-ship of Tammany? "Why he more than another?" If he be as stupid as they say, how explain his present position? Richard Croker's method in life is very simple. He bullies his way up. He bullied his way at school and he bullied his way to leadership in the Fourth Avenue tunnel gang. He can acquire power in no other manner. He is the boss of Tammany because he knows how to bully. He will have no one about him whom he cannot bully. He knows that in the contests wherein bullying is no factor, he can never amount to anything. That is why he represents one man's power so peculiarly. Tammany is the Fourth Avenue Tunnel gang on a gigantic scale. Its members have no more voice in its control than the coolies in Ceylon. If they don't like that they can get out. But there is good reason to stay in. Croker represents a selfish combination of which the safety is numbers and cohesion. The Tammany men know that if they take orders patiently the time will come for a police justiceship, a commissionership, a place in the assembly. What use is brains in Tammany? It only counts one vote. So the saloon men, the division men, the policy men, the gamblers, the heelers, are as one man, and that man an archbully. And when they act in concert, their divided opponents, who call themselves anti-snappers, and laborites, and republicans and the County Democracy, and so forth, go down like wheat before the reaper. The beginning of Richard Croker will always be the most extraordinary chapter in the history of municipal government in America.