The oldest inhabitant cannot remember when Chatham street did not exist.
It still contains many half decayed houses which bear witness to its
antiquity. It begins at City Hall Place, and ends at Chatham Square. It
is not over a quarter of a mile in length, and is narrow and dirty. The
inhabitants are principally Jews and low class foreigners. Near the
lower end are one or two good restaurants, and several cheap hotels, but
the remainder of the street is taken up with establishments into which
respectable buyers do not care to venture. Cheap lodging houses abound,
pawnbrokers are numerous, several fence stores are to be found here, and
some twenty or twenty-five cellars are occupied as dance houses and
concert saloons. These are among the lowest and vilest of their kind in
New York.
Chatham street is the paradise of dealers in mock jewelry and old
clothes. Some of the shops sell new clothing of an inferior quality, but
old clothes do most abound. Here you may find the cast-off finery of the
wife of a millionaire--the most of it stolen--or the discarded rags of a
pauper. It seems as if all New York had placed its cast-off clothing
here for sale, and that the stock had accumulated for generations. Who
the dealers sell to is a mystery. You see them constantly inviting
trade, but you rarely see a customer within their doors.
[Picture: CHATHAM SQUARE.]
Honesty is a stranger in Chatham street, and any one making a purchase
here must expect to be cheated. The streets running off to the right and
left lead to the Five Points and similar sections, and it is this
wretched portion of the city that supports trade in Chatham street. The
horse car lines of the east side pass through the entire length of the
street, and the heaviest portion of the city travel flows through it, but
respectable people rarely leave the cars in this dirty thoroughfare, and
are heartily glad when they are well out of it. The buildings are
generally old and dilapidated. The shops are low and dark. They are
rank with foul odors, and are suggestive of disease. The men and women
who conduct them look like convicts, and as they sit in their doorways
watching for custom, they seem more like wild beasts waiting for their
prey, than like human beings. Even the children have a keener, more
disreputable appearance here than elsewhere. The lowest class Jews
abound in this vile quarter, and filthy creatures they are.
The Chatham street merchants are shrewd dealers, and never suffer an
opportunity to make a penny to pass by unimproved. They are not
particular as to the character of the transaction. They know they are
never expected to sell honestly, and they make it a rule not to
disappoint their customers. One of their favorite expedients to create
trade in dull times is called a "forced sale." They practise this only
on those whom they recognize as strangers, for long experience has
enabled them to tell a city man at a glance. A stranger walking along
the street will be accosted by the proprietor of a shop and his clerks
with offers of "sheap" clothing. If he pauses to listen, he is lost. He
is seized by the harpies, who pretend to assist him, and is literally
forced into the shop. He may protest that he does not wish to buy
anything, but the "merchant" and his clerks will insist that he does, and
before he can well help himself, they will haul off his coat, clap one of
the store coats on his back, and declare it a "perfect fit." The new
coat will then be removed and replaced by the old one, and the victim
will be allowed to leave the shop. As he passes out of the door, the new
coat is thrust under his arm, and he is seized by the proprietor and his
assistants, who shout "stop thief!" and charge him with stealing the
coat. Their noise, and the dread of being arrested upon a charge of
theft, will frequently so confuse and frighten the victim that he will
comply with their demand, which is that he shall buy the coat. This done
he is suffered to depart. A refusal to yield would not injure him, for
the scoundrels would seldom dare to call in the police, for fear of
getting themselves into trouble with the officials. They have reckoned
with certainty, however, upon the stranger's timidity and bewilderment,
and know they are safe.