The Gangs of New York

by Herbert Asbury

  A thorough search of the gangster’s belongings disclosed a watch which was identified as having belonged to Captain Burr, and a daguerreotype which a young woman had given to Oliver Watts before the sloop sailed. Hicks denied flatly that his name was Johnson or that he had ever been on board the vessel, but was unable to explain the possession of the watch and picture. Later he was identified by John Burke as the man who had lived at Cedar street. Then a deck hand on one of the Staten Island boats identified Hicks as a man who had accosted him during the run from the Island to Manhattan, and had asked him to help count two bags of money. A web of circumstantial evidence was soon woven around Hicks, and he was transferred to the custody of Isaiah Rynders, United States Marshal, and locked up in the Tombs. In May he was tried before the United States Circuit Court, and after deliberating only seven minutes the jury found him guilty of piracy and murder on the high seas. He was sentenced to be hanged on Friday, July 13, and the Court specified that the execution take place on one of the government islands in New York Bay. Less than a week after the trial Hicks summoned the Warden of the Tombs and said that he desired to confess, and thereby ease his soul of sin. With his hands shackled behind his back and a ball and chain dragging at his ankle, the gangster paced back and forth before an audience of officials and newspaper reporters, and described in minute and gory detail the murder of Captain Burr and the two boys, Smith and Oliver Watts. The affair, he said, occurred at ten o’clock at night. He had brooded over being shanghaied, and he determined to avenge himself by murdering all hands aboard the sloop.

  “I was steering,” he said, “and Captain Burr and one of the Watts boys were asleep in the cabin. The other Watts was on lookout at the bows. Suddenly the devil took possession of me and I determined to murder the captain and crew that very night.”

  Hicks lashed the steering wheel to keep the vessel on her course, and picked up a capstan bar. Creeping forward, he approached the boy who stood in the bow watching the seas as they broke over the vessel’s forefoot. But his figure cast a long shadow in the moonlight which flooded the deck, and Watts turned to see who was coming. He screamed once, and then the bar descended upon his head, crushing his skull. The sound of the blow and the scream had awakened the other lad, and he came up the companion-way to learn what had happened. But meanwhile Hicks had obtained an axe, and as the boy climbed onto the deck the gangster decapitated him. Hicks then went down the companion in search of the skipper. Captain Burr, a short, thickset, but very muscular man, was aroused by the entrance of the murderous thug, and sat up in his bunk to find Hicks in the center of the cabin, leaning upon his axe. The next instant the pirate leaped forward, the blood-smeared blade glistening in the dim light cast by the swinging lantern above the Captain’s pallet.

  The axe crashed against Captain Burr’s pillow, but the skipper rolled with the blow and tumbled upon the floor in time to save his neck. He clasped Hicks about the knees, and as the gangster plunged to the floor the Captain strove desperately to grip his throat, while Hicks struggled to bring his axe into play. The fight continued for several minutes, but at length Hicks pushed the Captain against the cabin stove, and before the latter could regain his footing the pirate drove the axe deep into the side of his head, shearing away half of his skull. Hicks then went on deck, where he found the Watts boy he had first assaulted struggling to his knees. The gangster knocked him down and then carried his body to the rail, where he hoisted the lad over the side of the sloop. But young Watts clutched at the rail, whereupon Hicks raised his axe and calmly cut off his thumb and fingers, and Watts fell into the sea. Hicks then threw the other bodies overboard, rifled the captain’s money bags, and headed the vessel for shore. When the coast of Staten Island came into view he used the small boat to effect a landing, first starting the sloop out to sea.

  Interior of the Cabin of the Oyster Sloop, E.A. Johnson

  The conviction of Hicks and his subsequent confession caused a great stir throughout the city, and for several weeks there was a constant stream of visitors to the Tombs, where they thronged the corridors and stared for hours into the cell where Hicks lay shackled to the floor. Among the first comers was Phineas T. Barnum, the great showman, whose American Museum was then in the heyday of its popularity. Barnum asked for a private conference with the prisoner, which Hicks granted after a consultation with the Warden of the Tombs. Barnum informed the pirate that he wished to obtain a plaster cast of his head and bust for exhibition in the Museum along with the other curiosities, and after an entire day of haggling an arrangement was reached whereby Hicks agreed to pose in return for $25 in cash and two boxes of five-cent cigars. Early next morning the cast was made, and that afternoon Barnum returned to the Tombs with a new suit of clothes, which he traded to Hicks for the one the pirate was then wearing. Later Hicks complained to the Warden that Barnum had cheated him, for the new garments were shoddy and not nearly so good as his old ones.

  Mrs. Hicks visited her husband at six o’clock on the evening of Thursday, July 12. Farewells having been said, the woman departed, and the Rev. Father Duranquet then entered the cell of the condemned man and remained with him until eleven o’clock, when Hicks drank a cup of tea and retired. He slept soundly, and at four o’clock next morning was awakened and told to dress. He manifested no signs of grief or penitence, but ate heartily of breakfast, and then smoked the last of the cigars which he had obtained from Barnum. He told the Warden that Barnum had asked him to return the empty boxes for display in the Museum, and the Warden agreed to see that the showman received them. A few minutes before nine o’clock Marshal Rynders, girt with the Sheriff’s sword which he had borrowed for the occasion, entered the prison, attended by Sheriff Kelly and several deputies, all clad in plug hats and black frock coats. In a sonorous voice the Marshal read the death warrant, and then bade the prisoner prepare for execution, which Hicks did by arraying himself in a suit of blue cottonade, made expressly for the event. He complained that the suit did not fit, and that it had not been properly pressed, but the Warden told him there was no time for alterations.

  The gangster was handcuffed and shackled with leg irons, and was then led from his cell into the main corridor of the prison, where Marshal Rynders and his party were drawn up in a solemn group to receive him. Attended by Father Duranquet and surrounded by the officials marching in hollow square with their plug hats held across their chests, Hicks was escorted with great formality through the great doors and into the street. Thousands of people who had gathered greeted his appearance with cheers, and both the prisoner and the United States Marshal bowed in acknowledgment of the ovation. For a few moments the group stood on the steps of the prison, and then around a corner into Center street swept a fife and drum corps and a string of carriages, each drawn by a team of coal black horses and driven by a coachman clad in black from head to toe. The procession halted in front of the Tombs amid flourishes and rufQes from the trumpets and drums, and Marshal Rynders, carrying his silk hat in the crook of his elbow and with his sword clanking about his heels, marched ceremoniously down the steps and ensconced himself in the front seat of the first carriage. Beside him sat Deputy Marshal Thompson, while Hicks was placed in the back seat between Father Duranquet and Sheriff Kelly. In the second carriage were the Deputy Sheriffs, each carrying his staff of office, and in the others were policemen, gamblers, pugilists, politicians, doctors and newspaper reporters. At a signal from Marshal Rynders the drums rattled, the musicians struck up a dirge, and the carriages rolled slowly across the street along thoroughfares lined with cheering crowds to Canal street. There the steamboat Red Jacket waited to convey the hanging party to Bedloe’s Island, where the Statue of Liberty now beckons with her blazing torch of freedom.

  The vehicles and the fife and drum corps were dismissed when the procession arrived at the dock, and the party, augmented by more than a thousand persons who had been invited to the hanging but not for the carriage ride, went aboard the steamboat. Hicks was made comfortable in the cabin,
and immediately engaged in prayer with Father Duranquet. By ten o’clock the steamboat was crowded with some 1,500 men, and a start was made for the Island. But in midstream Marshal Rynders discovered that there was plenty of time, and he determined to take his guests for a pleasure sail up the Hudson. The Red Jacket was accordingly turned about, and steamed slowly up the river as far as Hammond street, where the steamship Great Eastern, recently arrived from Europe on her maiden voyage, was anchored. Hicks was brought to the rail, and as the Red Jacket circled the Great Eastern, Marshal Rynders stationed himself on the bridge, and with his sword in one hand and a trumpet in the other, announced to the passengers of the steamship the purpose of the cruise, and the meaning of the shackles on Hicks’ legs and the handcuffs on his wrists.

  About 10:30 o’clock the Red Jacket again started down the Bay, arriving at Bedloe’s Island half an hour later. The guests formed themselves in procession, and, preceded by Marshal Rynders, Father Duranquet, and Hicks, marched down the gangplank between lines of Marines under command of Captain John B. Hamilton, while beyond the pier a detachment of regular infantry from the garrison at Fort Hamilton awaited to escort the doomed gangster to the scene of execution. Hicks marched with his lips moving in prayer and his hands crossed on his breast, and as soon as his feet touched the soil of the Island he knelt with Father Duranquet and commended his soul to the special attention of the Almighty. He was permitted to complete his suppUca-tion, while the guests stood with bared heads, and the procession then moved forward, with Hicks in the center of a hollow square formed by the troops, while the regimental band played a dirge.

  Meanwhile hundreds of boats had come from Manhattan, and from Staten Island, New Jersey, and Brooklyn, and formed a solid mass for more than a hundred feet out from shore. Beyond this fringe of small craft were many large excursion boats, gaily decorated with flags and bunting and packed to the gunwales with hilarious crowds among whom hawkers and patterers peddled hot corn, candy, and other dainties. It was estimated that at least 10,000 persons saw the execution, for the scaffold had been erected not thirty feet from the water, and the hanging was in plain view of the throng which filled the boats. Hicks stepped on the death platform promptly at 11:30 o’clock, and fifteen minutes later, after Marshal Rynders and other officials had shaken hands with him, the rope was cut and his body dropped through the trap. He struggled severely for three minutes, but thereafter exhibited no pain. The body remained suspended for half an hour, when it was cut down and carried aboard the Red Jacket, and taken back to Manhattan. Hicks was buried in Calvary Cemetery, but he was scarcely cold before the grave had been robbed by ghouls, who sold the corpse to medical students for a few dollars.

  WHEN the police began to drive the gangs of the Fourth Ward northward along the East River, dives similar to those along Water and Cherry streets sprang up around the Corlears’ Hook district, bearing such names as the Tub of Blood, Hell’s Kitchen, Snug Harbor, Swain’s Castle, Cat Alley, and the Lava Beds. Many celebrated thieves and gangsters frequented these resorts during the period following the Civil War, among them Skinner Meehan,

  Dutch Hen, Brian Boru, Sweeney the Boy, Hop Along Peter and Jack Cody. Sweeney the Boy and Brian Boru slept in a marble yard near the Hook for twenty years, but one night Brian Boru went to sleep so drunk that he could not defend himself, and when his body was found it had been half devoured by the huge gray rats which infested the docks and frequently ranged far afield in quest of food. Hop Along Peter was a half-wit, but he was nevertheless a ferocious thug, for he flew into a furious rage whenever he saw a policeman’s uniform, and became one of the most notorious cop-fighters of his time.

  Patsy Conroy, who had operated with great success along the Fourth Ward water front, moved his gang bag and baggage into Corlears’ Hook and soon enlisted the aid of such celebrated thugs and brawlers as Joseph Gayles, otherwise Socco the Bracer; Scotchy Lavelle; Johnny Dobbs, whose real name was Mike Kerrigan; Kid Shanahan, Pugsy Hurley, Wreck Donovan, Tom the Mick, Nigger Wallace, Beeny Kane, Piggy Noles, and a score of others. In later years Scotchy Lavelle became the proud owner of a Chinatown resort, while Johnny Dobbs achieved renown as a bank burglar. The

  A Battle with River Pirates

  career of Socco the Bracer, chief lieutenant of Conroy, came to a sudden end on the night of May 29, 1873. In company with Bum Mahoney and Billy Woods he stole a small boat from the foot of Jackson street, and the three gangsters pulled down stream to Pier 27, East River, where the brig Margaret was tied up awaiting a cargo. They boarded the ship, but while ransacking a sea chest awakened the captain and the mate. A fight ensued, and the gangsters were severely beaten and driven over the side into their boat, while the skipper of the brig fired several shots to arouse the police. Patrolmen Musgrave and Kelly, patrolling the river in a rowboat, attempted to intercept the thugs, but missed them in the fog and darkness, and sculled back to the dock, under which Musgrave flashed his dark lantern. The dim light showed a boat slowly pulling out from under the pier, with Mahoney and Woods bending to the oars and Socco the Bracer standing in the stern with a cocked revolver in his hand.

  Socco fired as soon as the light flashed from the lantern, but missed, and his companions dropped their oars and drew revolvers. The policemen returned the fire, and Musgrave’s first shot struck Socco the Bracer below the heart. He plunged forward into the bottom of the boat, and Mahoney and Woods seized their oars and pulled rapidly into midstream, where they threw Socco the Bracer overboard to lighten the craft. But Socco, though badly hurt, was not dead, and the shock of the cold water revived him. He struggled to the rowboat and clutched the gunwale, and through the darkness the policemen could hear him begging piteously to be taken aboard. Woods suggested that they crack him on the knuckles with an oar and leave him to drown, but Mahoney was more tender-hearted, and drew the wounded gangster into the boat. But Socco died before the craft had gone fifty feet, and the disgusted Mahoney pushed him back into the river. Four days later the body came to the surface at the foot of Stanton street, within sight of the dead gangster’s home.

  The fate of Socco the Bracer frightened the Corlears’ Hook thugs, but they soon regained their courage. Less than six months after Socco’s death, on November 30,1873, the brig Mattan filled her hold with petroleum, and during the late afternoon dropped down the East River to the Battery, where she anchored off Castle Garden, an ancient assembly hall where Jenny Lind sang and which now houses the Aquarium. Her commander and owner, Captain T. H. Connauton, expected to take a crew aboard next day and sail for Liverpool. But soon after midnight a boat containing seven masked gangsters slipped noiselessly away from the shelter of a pier at Corlears’ Hook, and was rowed down to the Battery, where the thugs boarded the brig by means of a line which had carelessly been left dangling over her bows. They started aft, but one of them stumbled over a coil of rope and fell heavily to the deck, and the mate came forward to see what had happened.

  He was immediately felled with a slung-shot, and then bound and gagged. The second mate was also captured, as was the steward when he ventured to poke his head above the hatchway.

  Captain Connauton, his wife and their three children were asleep in the cabin, and thither the gangsters crept. They knocked, and when the skipper asked what was wanted he was told that the harbor police wished to talk to him. Captain Connauton, only half awakened, opened the door, but slammed it shut again when he saw the masked faces of the thugs peering at him, and the slung-shots and iron bars in their hands. Scarcely had the door closed when one of the gangsters fired a huge revolver, the slug ripping through a panel and wounding Captain Connauton in the leg. The skipper fell to the floor, and although Mrs. Connauton and her children strove desperately to barricade the door with furniture, the gangsters soon battered it down and swarmed into the cabin, where they told the captain that they knew he had $4,000 in cash on board and demanded that he give them the money. But Captain Connauton refused to divulge the hiding-place of his fortune, and the thugs seize
d Mrs. Connauton, held a pistol to her head and threatened to shoot if the money was not produced. Captain Connauton finally convinced them that he did not have as much as $4,000, and the gangsters released Mrs. Connauton when he offered to show them where they could find $45. The thugs then ransacked the cabin, and after an hour on board the brig departed with the money, a diamond ring, two watches, three gold chains, a ruby ring, and three silk dresses which Mrs. Connauton had purchased in Liverpool on her last voyage to England.

  Two days after the attack on the brig the harbor police arrested Tommy Dagan and Billy Carroll, two youthful but ferocious gangsters, and they were soon convicted and sentenced to prison. But six months later the police learned that Dagan and Carroll had spent the night in a Water street dive, and that the masked men who had boarded the Mattan were members of the Patsy Conroy gang led by Denny Brady and Larry Griffin, choice thugs who were not only expert river thieves, but first-class burglars as well. When business along the water front became poor, they led a gang of masked burglars on forays against the small towns of Westchester county along the shores of Long Island Sound, and on Long Island. For two years they kept these hamlets in a chronic condition of terror, but Brady was finally convicted of robbing a house in Catskill, and Griffin and Patsy Conroy were caught in Robert Emmet’s home at White Plains.

  The Hook gang had also removed from the Fourth Ward to Corlears’ Hook, and after Conroy had been sent to jail and his thugs scattered, became the most ferocious band of the district. This group was captained by Tommy Shay, Suds Merrick, James Coffee and Terry Le Strange, who varied their water front thievery with burglary, pocket-picking, and sneak thievery. Other noted gangsters, among them Bum Mahoney, joined the Hookers, and they made their headquarters in a dive at the foot of Stanton street, operating along the East River from Fourteenth street to the Battery. They were very successful for a short period, but late in 1874 Sam McCracken, Tommy Bonner and Johnny Gallagher, three of Merrick’s prize thugs, were sent to Auburn prison for long terms after they had boarded the canal boat Thomas H. Brick, bound and gagged the captain and then looted the craft at their leisure.