BUFFALO.
The Niagara Frontier.--Unfortunate Fate of the Eries.--The
Battle of Doom.--Times of 1812.--Burning of Buffalo.--Early
Names.--Origin of Present Name.--Growth and Population.--
Railway Lines.--Queen of the Great Lakes.--Fort Porter and Fort
Erie.--International Bridge.--Iron Manufacture.--Danger of the
Niagara.--Forest Lawn Cemetery.--Decoration Day.--The Spaulding
Monument.--Parks and Boulevard.--Delaware Avenue.--On the
Terrace.--Elevator District.--Church and Schools.--Grosvenor
Library.--Historical Rooms.--Journalism.--Public Buildings.--
City Hall.--Dog-carts and their Attendants.
Buffalo is a kind of half-way house between the East and the West--if
anything may be called west this side of the Mississippi River--and it
partakes of the characteristics of both sections. It was once the chief
trading post on the Niagara frontier, and its vicinity has been the
scene of many a hotly contested battle between dusky races now forever
lost to this part of the world, and almost forgotten of history. Long
ago, the Eries, or the Cat Nation, lived on the southern shores of the
same lake whose waters now lap the wharves of Buffalo. They left it the
heritage of their name, and that is all.
The race, in its lack of calculation, did not greatly differ from many
isolated instances of the paler race of mankind around us now; for it
died of a too o'erreaching ambition. Jealous of the distant fame of the
Five Nations, the Eries set out to surprise and conquer them in deadly
battle, and themselves met the fate they had meant for the Iroquois.
They were exterminated; and few returned to the squaws in their lonely
wigwams, to tell the tale of doom.
The noble race of Senecas succeeded the Cat Nation on the shores of Lake
Erie, and after them, from across the great seas, came the dominant,
pushing, civilizing Anglo-Saxons.
When the war of 1812 broke out, Buffalo was an exceedingly infant city,
and did not promise well at all. Nobody would have then predicted her
importance of to-day. Later, in 1813, the battle of Black Rock was
fought, and while a few old soldiers made a determined stand against the
onset of the solid British phalanx, most of the raw recruits fled down
Niagara street in a regular Bull Run panic, chased by the pursuing foe.
The village was then fired by the enemy, and every building except one
was burned to the ground. The description of the suffering and flight of
women and children, during that harrowing time, draws largely on the
sympathies of the reader, and sounds strangely similar to the newspaper
accounts of the burning of Western and Pennsylvania towns, of more
recent occurrence.
But, though Buffalo was destroyed by fire, it shortly evinced all the
power of the fabled phoenix, and rose from its ashes to a grander
future than its early settlers ever dreamed of prophesying for it. The
young city, however, suffered in its first days from a multiplicity of
names, struggling under no less than three. The Indians named it
Te-osah-wa, or "Place of Basswood;" the Holland Land Company dragged the
Dutch name of New Amsterdam across the ocean and endeavored to drop it
at the foot of Lake Erie; and finally, it took its present name of
Buffalo, from the frequent visits of the American Bison to a salt
spring which welled up about three miles out of the village, on Buffalo
creek.
I think Buffalonians have reason to be grateful that the last name
proved more tenacious than the other two. Think of the "Queen City" of
the most Eastern West being overshadowed by the tiled-roof name of New
Amsterdam!
It was not until 1822, on the completion of the Erie Canal, that Buffalo
began the rapid advance towards prosperity that now marks its growth,
the muster-roll of its population, at this writing, numbering the round
figures of one hundred and sixty-one thousand. It now rejoices in
business streets three and four miles long--full-fledged two-thirds of
the distance, and the remainder embryonic. The harbor-front, facing the
ship canal and the Lake, bristles with the tall tops of huge grain
elevators--a whole village of them. A network of railroad lines, and the
commerce of the great Lakes, have combined to build up and carry on a
vast business at this point, and to make it a station of much importance
between the East and the West. The rails of the New York Central, the
Great Western, the Lake Shore, and the Buffalo and Philadelphia roads,
besides many other lines, all centre here, carrying their tide of human
freight, mainly westward, and transporting the cereals of the great
grain regions in exchange for the manufactured products of less favored
localities. When the representative of New York or New England wishes to
go west, he finds his most direct route by rail, via Buffalo; or, if he
desires a most charming water trip, he embarks, also via Buffalo, on one
of the handsome propellers which ply the Lakes between this city and
Chicago, and steaming down the length of Lake Erie, up through the
narrower St. Clair and the broad Huron, he passes the wooded shores of
Mackinac's beautiful island, surmounted by its old fort, and entering
Lake Michigan, in due time is landed on the breezy Milwaukee banks, or
is set down within that maelstrom of business, named Chicago. Indeed,
after Chicago, Buffalo is the ranking city of the Lakes, and is said to
cover more territory than almost any city in the country outside the
great metropolis--the distance, from limit to limit, averaging seven and
eight miles. Its suburban drives and places of summer resort, owing to
the superior water localities of this region, are much out of the usual
line. Niagara River, famous the world over, allures the daring boatman
from Fort Porter onward, and the wonderful Falls themselves are only
eighteen miles beyond that. Fort Porter, about two miles out from the
heart of the city, is located just at the point where Niagara River
leaves the lake in its mad race to the Falls. Here the banks are high
and command a wide water prospect. Away to the westward the blue lake
and the blue sky seem to meet and blend together as one; and in the
opposite direction the rushing river spreads out like another lake,
towards Squaw Island and Black Rock. One or more companies of United
States Regulars are stationed here, and the barracks and officers'
quarters surround a square inclosure, which is used as a parade ground.
Graveled walks are laid out around it, and a grassy foot-path leads from
the soldiers' quarters to the site of the old Fort on the brow of a
gentle elevation just beyond. The Fort was built for frontier defence,
in 1812, and the interior, now grass-grown and unused, is so deep that
the roof of the stone structure, once appropriated as a magazine, is
nearly on a level with the high ground at your feet. During our last
war the building was occupied as a place of confinement for Rebel
prisoners. It is now in a state of advanced collapse, and the battered
walls and open windows expose to view the ruin within. A small, square
outhouse, near one of the embrasures higher up, which was used for
firing hot shot, is still intact. Field pieces, pointing grimly towards
the Lake, and little heaps of cannon balls lying near, bring freshly to
mind the nation's last war days, when "the winding rivers ran red" with
the mingled blood of comrade and foe. The sunset gun boomed over the
waters while we lingered at the old Fort, and the fading glow of day
bridged the river with arches of crimson and gold.
Diagonally opposite from this point, one looks across into the Queen's
dominions, where lies the little village of Fort Erie, historic as the
place from which the British crossed to our shores on the night
preceding the burning of Buffalo.
At Black Rock, about two miles below Fort Porter, the great
International Railroad Bridge, a mile in length, spans the mighty river,
having superseded the old-time ferry. This bridge is the connecting link
on the Grand Trunk Road, between Canada and the States.
Near its terminus, on the American side, are located the immense
malleable iron works of Pratt & Letchworth, said to be the largest
manufactory of the kind in the world. Their goods certainly find a
world-wide market, taking in New England and the Pacific coast, Mexico,
England and Australia. A pretty picture of the country seat of Mr.
Letchworth, at Portage, New York, may be seen at the Historical Rooms.
It is named Glen Iris, and is surrounded by handsome grounds, groves
and fountains.
Boating on the Niagara is much in vogue here, notwithstanding the rapid
current and the dreadful certainty of the Falls in case of accident. The
keeper of a boat house at Black Rock, opposite Squaw Island, told me
that the proportion of accidents on the river was frightfully large--far
greater than ever got into the public prints.
[Illustration: SOLDIERS' MONUMENT AT BUFFALO, NEW YORK.]
Forest Lawn Cemetery--Buffalo's city of the dead--is one of the
loveliest burial places between Brooklyn and Chicago. It is picturesque
with hill and dale and grove, not to mention a large artificial lake
lapped in one of its grassy hollows, and a winding, wide and
rocky-bedded creek running through it. The name of the creek is spelled
S-c-a-j-a-q-u-a-d-a and pronounced Kon-joc'-e-ta. The Pratt monument, in
a remote portion of the grounds, is perhaps the handsomest in the
cemetery. It looks like a gothic gateway with fluted pillars of Italian
marbles. A sculptured image of a child of one of the Fargos--of the
famous Wells, Fargo & Co.--rests under a glass case on the lap of earth
which marks her grave. The head is peculiarly noble, reminding one of
that of the Belvidere Apollo. It is said to be a truthful likeness.
Decoration Day at Forest Lawn was a picture long to be remembered. On a
little knoll under the trees at the entrance to the grounds the military
and civic processions assembled to listen to the eloquent words of Rev.
Mr. Barrett, of Rochester. When the brief address was concluded, and the
band music and singing were over, we followed the committees of
decoration to the scattered graves of the patriot dead, and witnessed
the strewing of flowers upon their sacred dust. A hushed circle above
the mound of earth, a few fitly-spoken words from one of their number
who knew the soldier-hero, and the floral tributes were tenderly placed
above the sleeper's head. Thus, oh heroes, shall your memory be kept
forever green! The flowers were wrought into every symbolic shape by
which the language of affection could be translated. Crowns, and
crosses, and stars, and anchors of hope, spoke their love and solace.
The graves of the Confederate dead were also decorated, and side by
side, under a common mantle of flowers, the Blue and the Gray received
alike the benediction of the hour.
"Then beautiful flowers strew,
This sweet memorial day,
With tears and love for the Blue,
And pity for the fallen Gray."
At Forest Lawn, also, on the historic seventeenth of June--the Bunker
Hill Centennial--a monument was dedicated to the memory of nine
Spauldings who fought at that battle, one hundred years before. The
granite cenotaph was erected by E. G. Spaulding, of Buffalo, descended
from the same blood with the heroic nine. The names of the list
inscribed on the Western front of the monument were headed by that of
his grandfather, Levi Spaulding, who was captain of the ninth company,
third regiment, under Colonel Reed, of the New Hampshire troops, engaged
on that day.
"For bright and green the memory still
Of those who stood on Bunker Hill,
And nobly met the battle shock,
Firm as their native granite rock."
Speeches reviving Revolutionary memories, and fresh descriptions of the
Bunker Hill contest, were in order. There was a semi-military
procession, and the interest felt in the occasion was general. A grand
reception at Mr. Spaulding's residence in the evening, concluded the
patriotic anniversary.
The large park adjoining Forest Lawn is plentiful in attractions,
including the delights of boating on the Konjoceta and loitering in the
shadowy coolness of the primeval woods. In addition to these, Buffalo is
completing a grand boulevard system which encircles half the City,
beginning at what is called the Front, in the neighborhood of Fort
Porter, and making the circuit of the outskirts through Bidwell and
Lincoln and Humboldt parkways to the intersection of Genesee street with
the Parade, on the opposite arc of the circle. One is sure to find cool
breezes along this drive, though the day be the hottest of the season.
Indeed, the summer heats are, at all times, shorn of their fervor in
this Queen City of the Lakes, and its climatic advantages are,
therefore, superior.
Delaware Avenue is the leading street of Buffalo for private residences,
and here much of the aristocracy do congregate. It is about three miles
long, and double rows of shade trees line either side. Fast driving on
this avenue is licensed by city authority, and racing down its gentle
incline is much in vogue. In winter, when sleighing is good, this is
carried to greater excess, and the snowy road is black with flying
vehicles. Main street, the principal business thoroughfare of the city,
at least for retail trade, is wide, well paved and straight, and is
built up with substantial business blocks. Its sister thoroughfare on
the east, Washington street, towards the lower end as it approaches the
lake, degenerates into manufacturing, and the buzz of machinery and
incessant din of hammers break in on the maiden meditations of the
passive sight-seer.
As one approaches the Terrace, which is an elbow of blocks at one end
and a diagonal at the other, one is confronted by a confusion of cross
streets, which look as if they had been gotten up expressly to
demoralize one's points of compass. They all look out on Buffalo harbor
and the sea-wall beyond. Ohio street, following the bend of the harbor,
is the great elevator district of the greatest grain mart in the world.
Here, when business is at high tide, between two and three million
bushels of grain per day are transferred by these giant monsters with
high heads. The business places of this department of Buffalo enterprise
are located principally on Central Wharf, in this vicinity, which fronts
the harbor and which is crowded with offices two tiers deep.
Along the wharf the very air is charged with bustle and activity.
Vessels of all descriptions are arriving and departing at all hours, and
the commerce of the great lakes pours its flood tide into Buffalo
through this gateway.
As for churches and schools, the city overflows with them. It is
sprinkled in all directions with handsome religious edifices, like
interrogation points, in stone and brick, asking the questions of a
higher life. And there are thirty-six public schools, besides the State
Normal, the Central, and the Buffalo Female Academy. This last is under
the able guidance of Dr. Chester. But even these do not complete the
list, as I understand there are numerous other private institutions of
learning.
In one of the triangular pieces of ground where the three streets of
Niagara, Erie and Church make their entrance into Main street, stands
the picturesque structure of St. Paul's Episcopal Cathedral. It is
built of brown stone, and the creeping ivy nearly covers one end of it,
from the crosses and minarets at the pinnacle to the trailing vines on
the ground. The gray, gothic edifice of St. Joseph's Romish Cathedral,
fronting on Franklin street, is also very large, and the interior is
rich in architectural design.
As for the immeasurable realm of books, Buffalo furnishes her children
access to this, through her libraries. Chiefest among them is the
Grosvenor, which has a bit of history all by itself. It was founded by a
retired merchant of New York, who had lived in Buffalo during the
earliest infancy of the city, and whose property had been destroyed when
the then frontier village was fired by the British and Indians, in
retaliation for the burning of Newark. This generous gentleman also left
thirty thousand dollars to found a reference library for the High School
of New York City. His will provided a legacy of ten thousand for
Buffalo, to be applied towards a fire-proof building for a library, and
the sum of thirty thousand, the interest of which was to be used for the
purchase of books. The building fund having been on interest ever since,
now amounts to twenty-eight thousand, and in addition the city has
donated what is known as the Mohawk street property, used at present for
police purposes, which will sell for an amount sufficiently large,
together with the deposit already on hand, to erect a handsome building.
The library is now located over the Buffalo Savings Bank, facing a
pleasant little park between Washington and Main streets.
In 1870 the interest had more than doubled the donation, and the
Trustees then commenced the work of making the library a living
institution. After a great deal of trouble, they at last secured the
services of Alexander J. Sheldon, who was willing, without any certain
compensation, to undertake the task of organizing and superintending the
library. Mr. Sheldon, who is an expert in books, is native to the city,
and from boyhood has been connected with this line of business. The
first year of his hard labor at the Grosvenor was rewarded by the large
sum of five hundred dollars! It was well for the institution, however,
that Mr. Sheldon was not dependent on his salary for support. He entered
into the work with an enthusiasm which surmounted all difficulties, and
which has brought the library to its present state of progress, making
it a credit to the city of Buffalo.
The large reading room is neatly fitted up with black walnut cases, nine
feet in length, and eight feet high, opening on both sides, and capable
of holding eight or nine hundred average volumes. There are about thirty
of these cases in the room, with reading tables and easy chairs
interspersed between them. The style of alcove and arrangement, which
was also Mr. Sheldon's suggestion, produces a very handsome effect. The
cases stand on black walnut platforms six inches in height, and are
surmounted by a pretty cornice. The shelves are interchangeable, and are
of such moderate height that the necessity for step-ladders is entirely
avoided. There are also dummy volumes, made to resemble books and
properly titled, which, if their mission is to deceive the uninitiated,
certainly accomplish that task. The number of volumes has now
accumulated to about eighteen thousand, and includes the choicest works
in art, science, literature and the professions. The fiction department
comprehends all the recognized standard works, but the mass of worthless
novels, which pass current in some of our circulating libraries, is
unhesitatingly excluded. The bindings are nearly all morocco, with gilt
or marbled tops, and the back of each book, as it is added to the
library, is given a coat of white shellac varnish, which prevents it, in
a great degree, from fading, and renders it easy of renovation.
The small ante-room which is used by the librarian and committeemen
contains several hundred volumes on bibliography, which is a very
important feature of such an institution. The rooms in summer are
breezy, from the lake winds, and in winter are heated by steam
radiators. A heavy cocoa matting deadens all sound on the floors, and
absolute quiet is thus secured. Thanks to the efforts of Mr. Sheldon,
the Grosvenor is undoubtedly the best library for a student west of the
Hudson.
The Historical Rooms deserve notice as one of the salient points of
Buffalo, and though the Society is young and not by any means wealthy,
yet it is fairly started on its road to distinction. It was founded in
1862, and subsists principally by donations, as it is yet too poor to
make purchases of books or relics. The Rooms are located at the corner
of Main and Court streets, nearly opposite the ancient site of the old
Eagle Tavern. A picture of this hotel as it looked fifty years ago may
be seen among their collection. A huge gilt eagle surmounted the main
entrance, and an enclosed porch, or what looks like it, at one end of
the building, bore the inscription "_Coach Office_," in large letters
over the doorway. Here also is the noble looking portrait of Red Jacket,
the great Seneca Chief, together with the grand-daughter of Red Jacket's
second wife--Nancy Stevenson--taken at sixteen. This bright-eyed, brown
maiden married an Indian named Hiram Dennis, and was still living in
1872. Belts of wampum, war hatchets and pipes of peace, besides numerous
pictures, in oil, of celebrated red warriors, are among the Indian
mementoes connected with Buffalo's early history. The war of 1812 also
contributes its scattered waifs to keep alive the memory of that time.
The sword of Major-General Brown, worn at the battle of Sackett's
Harbor, and a piece of timber from Perry's ship, on which is traced the
legend "We have met the enemy and they are ours," are among the
heirlooms of history. Here, too, is a Mexican lance from the field of
Monterey, and the clarionette used in Buffalo's first band of music,
whose strains helped swell the chorus during the triumphal march of
Lafayette through her streets in 1824. A representation of the first
boat on the Erie Canal, named "Chief Engineer of Rome," looks quaint
enough. The walls of the large apartment devoted to historical
collections are covered with pictures of Buffalo's prominent men, and at
one end of the room hangs a handsome portrait of Millard Fillmore, set
in heavy gilt. Their list of books and directories is also quite large.
The story of a city's growth is always one of deep interest, and the
generations of future years will, no doubt, be grateful for these
landmarks of their early history.
Journalism in Buffalo rides on the top wave, and her leading papers have
achieved an enviable fame. Eight dailies swell the list, four of which
are German, besides ten weeklies and seven monthly papers. The history
of the _Commercial Advertiser_ dates back to October, 1811. It was
issued at that time, under the name of the _Buffalo Gazette_, by the
Salisbury brothers, from Canandaigua. With the exception of a paper at
Batavia, begun in 1807, the _Gazette_ was the only paper published at
that time in Western New York. It afterwards changed its name to the
_Buffalo Patriot_, and since 1836 it has been issued as the _Daily
Commercial Advertiser_. The _Courier_ and _Commercial_ are the ranking
papers of the city, in point of influence.
Buffalo doesn't seem to be ambitious of display in her public buildings,
judging from the quality of those already on hand. The new City Hall,
however, is a noble exception to the general rule. It is built of Maine
granite, in the form of a double Roman cross, and the tower, which is
two hundred and forty-five feet high, is surmounted by four pieces of
statuary. Its estimated cost is over two millions of dollars.
St. James' Hall and the Academy of Music are the chief places of
amusement in the city, the latter place being conducted by the Meech
brothers, two young gentlemen of acknowledged ability. Many noted stars
of the stage whose names have blazed forth in histrionic glory have here
made their first conquests, before applauding audiences. The stock
company is unusually good, Ben Rogers, stage manager and first comedian,
being a host in himself.
The fire department of the city is said to be exceedingly efficient, and
the police system has gained a reputation for thorough work which ought
to be the terror of the criminal class. It embraces a body of mounted
police, a corps of detectives and of patrolmen, besides the regular
force stationed at the harbor.
Among the minor peculiarities of Buffalo may be mentioned the
superabundance of dog carts to be seen in her streets; not the
conventional kind that goes rolling down Fifth Avenue, among the
bewildering array of splendid equipages--coupes, landaus, landaulets,
drags and what not--that daily make their way to Central Park; not any
of these; but the original dog cart, with the dog attached. He is to be
seen in all the varieties of the species, from a muddy yellow to the
fierce-looking mastiff. He is usually harnessed in company with a
collapsed old woman or a cadaverous looking little boy, and he carries
all kinds of mixed freight, from an ash barrel to a load of sticks. The
undercurrent of Buffalo society does not seem to look upon the dog in a
purely ornamental light.
This chapter on a place so fertile in suggestion might be prolonged
indefinitely; but we are gazing westward, along a line of cities whose
terminus does not end until it reaches the Golden Gate and the most
famous centre of population on the Pacific coast. Our steps are bent
toward that far-off goal, and we must say good-bye to the ancient land
of the Eries and the former haunts of the buffalo.