Blog - For The Record — NYC Department of Records & Information Services

Stuart Marques

The Empire State Plane Crash, July 28, 1945

A dense fog crept across the slate gray New York City sky on Saturday July 28, 1945. The war in Europe was largely over, V-E Day had been declared about seven weeks earlier, and the fall of Japan was near. The city was going about its business shortly before 10 a.m., when a US Army bomber plane carrying a pilot and two other men from Bedford, Massachusetts to LaGuardia Airport made a wrong turn and slammed into the north side of the Empire State Building about 935 feet above the street.

The building topped 1,200 feet, so the plane, which was going more than 200 miles per hour, rammed through the 78th and 79th floors with tremendous force, sending an elevator plummeting 75 floors and triggering three separate heavy fires.

Empire State Building Disaster: Interior, 12:40 pm; 79th Floor, showing hole in wall where plane crashed, July 28, 1945. Mayor LaGuardia Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The pilot and the two other men in the plane—including a Navy machinist from Brooklyn—were killed instantly and 11 people in the building or on the ground died. The crash triggered a brief panic, launched several investigations and drew both praise and condemnation of the City’s feisty Mayor, Fiorello La Guardia.

Telegrams, letters, secret communications between the City and Washington, and a detailed and heavily-illustrated Fire Department report in the Municipal Library and Archives recount the events of that dark day.

At approximately 9:50 a.m., the pilot of the doomed B-25 Mitchell Aircraft, William F. Smith Jr., radioed the La Guardia Tower saying the plane was about 15 miles south of LaGuardia and asked about the weather at nearby Newark Airport. Following procedure, the LaGuardia Tower told the pilot to call Newark for the local weather.

“Within two minutes, this plane showed up directly southeast of LaGuardia and (LaGuardia Tower chief Operator Victor) Barden believing it intended to land, gave it runway, wind direction and velocity,” the memo read. “The pilot stated he wanted to go to Newark.”

Empire State Building Disaster: Interior, 79th Fl. 12:55 pm, July 28, 1945. Hole in south wall where plane crashed into elevators. Mayor LaGuardia Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Airways Traffic Control radioed that the weather at Newark was 600 feet ceiling and said the plane should land at LaGuardia. Since it was a bomber, the tower contacted Army Advisory, which said visibility was a little better than that and the tower asked the pilot what he wanted to do.

Smith, a West Point graduate who had completed 42 missions in Europe during the war, made the fateful decision to proceed to Newark. The tower then cleared him to land at Newark, but noted they were “unable to see the top of the Empire State Building” and warned the pilot that if he did not have three miles of forward visibility, he should return to LaGuardia.

But visibility was near zero and the pilot apparently became disoriented, turned the wrong way after skirting the Chrysler Building on 42nd Street and almost immediately slammed into the north side of the Empire State Building. The first fire alarm was pulled at 9:52 a.m. and Mayor LaGuardia quickly rushed to the scene amid arriving fire trucks, ambulances and police cars.

Empire State Building Disaster: Interior, W side of 79th Fl, facing E; 12:30 pm, July 28, 1945. Firemen walking through rubble in rear. Mayor LaGuardia Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

An extensive Fire Department report issued by Commissioner Patrick Walsh on August 21, 1945, picks up the story, reporting that the plane hit between the 78th and 79th floors with such tremendous force that it made an 18-by-20-foot hole in what was then the tallest building in the world. One engine flew through the south side of the building and landed a block away atop the roof of a factory on West 33rd St. The other engine plummeted down an elevator shaft and triggered a fire that lasted more than 40 minutes.

“The wreckage of a giant aircraft that had carried a large supply of gasoline and tanks of oxygen giving added furor to the blasting fire … scattered death and flames over a wide area,” Walsh wrote. “Elevator service to the scene of the fire, some 935 feet above the street, had been disrupted. Parts of a hurtling motor and other sections of the plane that passed entirely through the structure had brought fire to the roof and top floor of a thirteen-story building across the street from the scene of the original tragedy. A third fire had developed in the basement and sub-basement of the Empire Building itself.”

Empire State Building Disaster: Interior, S corner, 79th Fl., facing N; 12:05 pm, July 28, 1945. Mayor LaGuardia Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Walsh wrote that the fires were brought under control in 19 minutes and were extinguished within 40 minutes. But, he added, “life hazard was very severe. Persons had been trapped on the 78th and many more on the 79th floor. Persons on the 80th and other floors were exposed to considerable smoke and heat. There was a dangerous possibility of panic among the people in the building.”

Empire State Building Disaster: Basement, 2:40 pm, looking NW, July 28, 1945. Elevator pit, parts of plane. Mayor LaGuardia Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

In a letter accompanying his report, Walsh praised the Mayor for getting to the scene quickly and making sure that accurate information got out to the public to prevent widespread panic. “Your presence at the scene with its attendant acceptance of the risks and rigors of the situation was very impressive and gave testimony to the cooperation that this department has received from you during past years.”

Miraculously, elevator operator Betty Lou Oliver survived the 75-story elevator shaft plunge, in what the Guinness Book of Records would later proclaim “The Longest Fall Survived in an Elevator.” Soon after the horrific accident, as firefighters were still rushing up to the 77th floor to fight the blaze, Army Lt. General Ira Eaker, Deputy Commander of the Army Air Forces, fired off a hand-delivered note to Mayor LaGuardia “to express the concern of the Army Air Forces for the unfortunate accident which occurred at the Empire State Building this morning.”

He vowed to cooperate with city and federal agencies “to ensure a complete and thorough investigation of the circumstances … It is our keenest desire that everything humanly possible be done for those who have suffered in this unfortunate and regrettable accident and we shall leave nothing undone which lies in our power to that end.”

Empire State Building Disaster: Interior, S corner, 79th Fl. Offices; charred bodies on desk in background.; 11:50 am, July 28, 1945. Mayor LaGuardia Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The next day’s papers—from coast-to-coast—blared the story across their front pages. The New York Daily News story began: “A fog-blind B-25 Mitchell bomber, groping its way southward across Manhattan to Newark Airport crashed into the 79th-floor of the 1,250-foot Empire State Building … turning the world’s tallest building into a torch in the sky high above 34th St. and Fifth Avenue.” That morning the Mayor took to the airwaves with his Talk to the People program, offered condolences to the families of all the victims and read Lt. Gen. Eaker’s letter aloud. (LT2545)

The Archives holds a July 31 story in the Daily Mirror that lent an eerie quality to the story. It started: “The charred remains of the dead … in the Empire State Building tragedy were identified yesterday while souvenir seekers and looters had a ghoulish field day among the debris.” The story said looters invaded the 79th floor offices of the National Catholic Welfare Conference and stole charred stationary and $400 in cash. The thief dropped a bag holding $8,000 in Travelers Checks when police spotted him and gave chase. The owner of the Hicckock Belt Company told cops someone stole $300 worth of belts, suspenders and wallets.

Empire State Building Disaster: 34th Street, showing parts of plane on N side of street; 1:20 pm, July 28, 1945. Mayor LaGuardia Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Despite the damage, much of the building was open for business on the Monday two days after the accident. The crash also led to creation of the Federal Tort Claims Act and brought calls from military and aviation experts for better training and safety rules. Brigadier General Robert Travis blamed a rash of accidents on a “lack of knowledge of equipment, lack of discipline and plain bullheadedness.”

Mayor LaGuardia added to the furor over the accident when he told the Herald Tribune he thought the pilot was flying too low, given the number of skyscrapers in Midtown. In response to one critical letter to the mayor, Goodhue Livingston Jr., LaGuardia’s executive secretary, noted that if the pilot “had maintained the proper altitude when flying over Manhattan the accident would not have occurred. Unfortunately, some of our Army Pilots who have been coming into our municipal fields during this war emergency period have on occasion have [sic] not maintained the proper safe altitude.”

The Empire State Building as it was in 1940, with a much shorter midtown. Department of Finance Tax Photo Collection.

The Empire State Building as it was in 1940, with a much shorter midtown. Department of Finance Tax Photo Collection.

An August 13 letter from H.H. Arnold, Commanding General of the Army Air Forces, backed up LaGuardia. Arnold said there was no evidence the plane had malfunctioned, and he clearly pinned the blame on the pilot.

 “It appears that the pilot used poor judgment,” Arnold wrote, adding that Smith did not maintain the altitude and did not have the minimum visibility to go to Newark. “He had been warned by the LaGuardia Tower that the top of the Empire State Building could not be seen. Therefore, it may be assumed that he was mistaken in his establishment of his position with respect to the Lower Manhattan area.” Arnold said the military had taken measures to avoid a similar accident in the future by better communication between the military and air traffic control and by establishing local traffic routes for Army aircraft in the metropolitan area.

Unfortunately, less than a year later it happened again. On May 20, 1946, an U.S. Army Air Forces Beechcraft C-45F Expediter slammed into the north side of the 925-foot-high building at 40 Wall Street in a heavy fog. All five crew members were killed.

The Brooklyn Battery Bridge

Proposed design for the Brooklyn Battery Bridge. Department of Parks Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

About 55,000 cars, trucks and buses use the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel every day—more than 20 million a year—but only a handful of drivers know that if mega-builder Robert Moses had gotten his way, they would be crossing on an approximately 1.5-mile long, twin-span Brooklyn Battery Bridge.

The author Robert Caro’s Pulitzer Prize-winning biography of Moses, The Power Broker describes a battle between reformers and preservationists on one side and Team Moses on the other. Moses launched an aggressive, vicious and intensely personal, last-minute push to build a bridge instead of a tunnel. The fight stretched from Albany to City Hall to the halls of the White House and President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s War Department and—80 years ago in 1939—resulted in what many believe was Moses’s most bitter defeat.

Documents, reports, letters and even Western Union telegrams in the Municipal Library and Archives paint a vivid picture of how a master builder used to getting his way by cajoling and bullying his opponents finally met his match.

Construction of the approach to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel in Brooklyn, November 10, 1948. NYC Municipal Archives. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

PROLOGUE

The tunnel idea had been kicking around since the early 1920s, but did not pick up steam until 1935, when Mayor Fiorello La Guardia set up a public works authority so the city could borrow $60 million, but the project had to be completed within two years.

As plans were proceeding for the tunnel—and how to pay for it—Louis Wills, president of the Brooklyn Chamber of Commerce, wrote a letter to La Guardia on January 11, 1935 supporting the tunnel plan as the “next important step in your efforts to procure adequate vehicular connections to Manhattan.”

The Chamber noted that “much of the congestion in Lower Manhattan and Downtown Brooklyn is due to the concentration of heavy interborough traffic from the three lower East River bridges.”

The City ponied up $75,000 for a feasibility study. An April 28, 1936 report from the Board of Transportation to the Board of Estimate also championed the tunnel idea. “The tunnel would create a continuous highway that would be the shortest and most direct route for transportation of freight along the East River and South Brooklyn waterfront.” Proponents of the tunnel estimated it would cost about $60 million and would be “self-supporting.

At around that time, La Guardia tried to get Washington to foot the bill through Presidents Franklin D. Roosevelt’s public works initiative.

OPPOSITION FORMS

Not everyone was crazy about the tunnel proposal, though. On September 16, 1938, Manhattan Borough President Stanley Isaacs fired off a letter to Alfred Jones, chairman of the New York City Tunnel Authority, saying he was opposed to the plan unless there were provisions “for the handling of traffic once it is let loose” in the tunnel area.

In a prelude to the battle ahead, Moses informed La Guardia on September 29, 1938 that Washington nixed paying for the tunnel because it could not be completed within the proscribed two-year period for public works projects

An alternate proposal had an entrance ramp for the Brooklyn Battery Bridge on Governors Island. Department of Parks Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Then, on January 23, 1939, against the backdrop of a brewing World War II, Moses threw his last-minute curveball: The tunnel would become a bridge. O. H. Hamman, chief engineer of the Triborough Bridge Authority, released a brochure espousing Moses’s plan to build the Brooklyn Battery Bridge. In an introduction to the brochure, Moses wrote that it was “indisputable” that a bridge would be better, cheaper and more efficient than the tunnel he had once espoused.

The bridge, with all necessary approaches, can be built for about $41 million, as opposed to $84 million for a tunnel, Moses proclaimed. He said the bridge, which would sit 600 feet east of Governor’s Island, would be six lanes, as opposed to four in the tunnel; would cost under $350,000 in annual maintenance, less than half of the tunnel’s yearly upkeep; could be financed through bonds “without the contribution of a nickel” of city or federal money; could be built in 2 years and 3 months, rather than 3 years and 10 months for the tunnel, and would be 130-to-150 feet above the river so as not to interfere with navigation. Lacking funds to construct the tunnel, Mayor La Guardia quickly lent his support for the bridge.

Opposition was quick and fierce.

“And then, on January 25, the storm broke,” Caro wrote. “This was no protest that was going to go unheard. This was no circulating of petitions by a group of housewives out in Flushing …” Instead, he wrote it would be an epic battle between reformers and powerful civic and merchant groups that felt this was another example of Moses’s attempts to destroy “many of the values that made life in the city livable.” The reformers called Moses’s bridge construction numbers ridiculously low.

On January 25, Issacs fired off a “Dear Fiorello” letter which read: “I am sure you know that I am not wholly in agreement with you and Bob Moses concerning the plan for a new Brooklyn Battery Bridge. For the record, I have written a long letter in opposition to Commissioner (Rexford) Tugwell,” chairman of the City Planning Commission. That letter said a bridge would be detrimental to the City’s appearance and skyline, including “Battery Park and the tall buildings of Manhattan (which) are among the City’s greatest aesthetic assets.”

Moses fired back five days later, in a letter to Tugwell, which said Isaac’s “criticism of the project appears to be based upon the fallacious idea that any new artery into Manhattan creates more congestion and serious traffic problems.”

THE BATTLE JOINED

“There Must Be No Bridge,” Pamphlet, West Side Association of Commerce, Inc. Mayor LaGuardia papers, subject files, NYC Municipal Archives.

The powerful West Side Association of Commerce quickly joined the opposition, as did the Real Estate Board, the Citizens Union, the American Institute of Architects and the Regional Planning Association (RPA), headed by George McAneny, a former City official, municipal reformer and preservationist active in city politics.

On March 31, 1939, Harold Lewis, the RPA’s chief engineer, issued a letter strongly opposing the bridge plan, saying that a “series of vehicular tunnels of relatively small capacity and constructed progressively as demands require is a far better solution” than an enormous bridge. The RPA contended that the proposed site was “not a natural one for the bridge and its approaches in Manhattan would cause unjustifiable defacement and make impossible … improvement of Battery Park.”

Three days earlier, a man who identified himself as Frederick P. Bearings of Woodhaven, Queens, sent a La Guardia a telegram warning: “BROOKLYN BATTERY SPAN WOULD BE A VERY OBVIOUS TARGET FOR A HITLER SUICIDE SQUAD.”

Telegram, March 28, 1939. Mayor LaGuardia papers, subject files, NYC Municipal Archives.

The reformers hoped to get public opinion on their side. But as Caro observed, “All the reformers hopefulness proved was that they didn’t understand how much power—power over politicians—Moses had been given and how independent of public opinion he now was.”

Most of the city’s planning commissioners and elected officials sided with Moses as the process began to speed up. Two public hearings were held in February and on March 1, the Planning Commission approved Moses’s bridge plan by a 4-2 vote.

On March 9, Moses, who was vacationing in Key West., Fla., fired off a telegram urging the Mayor to authorize a bridge and remove the tunnel authorization, saying they were incompatible. Caro wrote that the telegram was not a request but an ultimatum: If the mayor wanted money from Moses’s Bridge Authority, he would need to officially scrap the tunnel idea.

The die was cast. On March 27, the City Council held a marathon hearing on the bridge plan. Seven hours into the hearing, after the reformers had spoken, Moses launched into his hostile and aggressive argument with vicious personal attacks, basically branding the reformers as Communists and, according to Caro’s book, calling the 70-year-old McAneny “an extinct volcano … an exhumed mummy.” Caro wrote that Moses sidestepped many of the issues and “those he did answer he answered with lies” about the cost and construction timeline before striding out of the hearing chamber brimming with confidence. The Council approved the plan 19-6 the next day, the Legislature authorized the bridge on March 30 and the Board of Estimate okayed it 14-2 on June 8.

Construction of the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel; tunnel interior, October 14, 1948. Department of Parks and Recreation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

VICTORY—AND THE DEFEAT

It seemed that Moses had won. But defeat was lurking about 225 miles away in Washington, D.C. —and he was about to suffer one of his few major losses in trying to recreate the city as he saw fit.

President Roosevelt’s War Department needed to approve the project before work could begin because there were War Department facilities on Governor’s Island and Treasury Department facilities in the Battery. There also was concern that the bridge would be a wartime target, impede shipping access to the Brooklyn Navy Yard and, Caro wrote, a feeling that FDR wasn’t too enthusiastic about it.

Moses must have sensed trouble because he was having difficulty getting meetings, according to documents in the Archives. On July 17, War Secretary Harry Woodring flatly rejected the bridge plan later calling it “a hazard to self-defense.”

Moses wasn’t done yet, though his effort to pull victory from the jaws of defeat failed. In an appeal of Woodring’s decision he said the ruling “has created an impossible situation in that it eliminates the only practical solution (the bridge) of the vitally needed vehicular crossing” from the Battery to Brooklyn.

He also enlisted editorial writers at the Daily News and the Brooklyn Eagle to urge FDR to set aside Woodring’s decision. But they fell on deaf ears.

On July 20, 1939—even before Moses’s appeal was rejected—the bridge opponents held a “Victory Luncheon,” featuring several hours of self-congratulatory speeches.

When all was said and done, the Tunnel Authority broke ground for the new tunnel on October 28, 1940. Construction was not completed for nearly 10 years due to a wartime shortage of materials. The 9,117-foot-long tunnel finally opened on May 25, 1950. The toll was 35 cents. It’s now $9.50—and known as the Hugh L. Carey Tunnel.

Mayor Robert F. Wagner speaks at the ceremony opening the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, May 25, 1950. NYC Municipal Archives.

Mayor Robert F. Wagner speaks at the ceremony opening the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, May 25, 1950. NYC Municipal Archives.

Prostitution in New York-Part 2, From Lucky Luciano to the Bad Old Days of Times Square

Mugshot of Charles Luciano, alias Lucky, April 18, 1936. New York County District Attorney, Case File 211537, NYC Municipal Archives.

Prohibition made “Lucky” Luciano the richest and most powerful organized crime boss in the country—but his chokehold over New York City’s prostitution industry would ultimately bring him down.

Lucky Luciano (left) enters police headquarters with detective on arrival from Little Rock, April 18, 1936. NYC Municipal Archives Collection.

He had managed to escape prosecution for mob-related murders that had made him the reigning boss in the late 1920s and 1930s, but in 1936, Thomas Dewey, then a federally-appointed special prosecutor for Manhattan, and his team of investigators and lawyers developed what would become a sensational prostitution case that riveted the city.

Investigators conducted simultaneous raids on some 40 brothels and eventually built a case against him using about three-dozen witnesses, including a slew of prostitutes and madams. The key witness was a prostitute named Florence “Cokey Flo” Brown, a hard-bitten heroin addict who testified that Luciano told her he wanted to run his string of bordellos like a chain-store operation.

Amazingly, Luciano took the witness stand, confident he could charm the jury. It didn’t work; he was convicted on 60 counts of compulsory prostitution and sentenced to 30 to 50 years in prison. 

Mugshot of Florence Newman, alias “Cokey” Flo Francis Martin, alias Flo Brown, alias Fay Marston, October 10, 1934. New York County District Attorney, Case File 211537, NYC Municipal Archives.

He likely would have died in prison, but he cooperated with the war effort in 1942 after the sinking of the SS Normandie on the Brooklyn waterfront raised fears of sabotage and longshoremen threatened to strike. After becoming Governor of New York, Dewey commuted Luciano’s sentence on the proviso that he be deported to Italy, where he died in 1962. While in Italy, he continued to coordinate with fellow mobsters on international drug trafficking.

Prostitution burst back into the headlines in 1967, with a dramatic two-part series in the New York Times, contained in the Municipal Library files. The first story quoted Alfred Scotti, the head of the Rackets Bureau in the Manhattan district attorney’s office, as saying the mob pulled back on prostitution after Luciano’s conviction. 

 “It’s too difficult to organize and the mobsters find gambling, narcotics—and for that matter many legal operations—much more profitable.”

The two-month Times investigation found that some East Side bars allowed hookers to “operate surprisingly openly,” although the woman often had to convince her customer to buy three drinks before leaving.

The Times series prompted the State Assembly to toughen prostitution laws over the objections of some, like then-Assembly member Charles Rangel, who wanted to decriminalize it. “Prostitution is a problem that will be with us as long as we are a legislative body,” he said.

249 West 42nd Street, ca. 1985. Department of Finance Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

As the city began its slide toward an ugly, wide-open Times Square—as later depicted in movies like Taxi Driver and the television series The Deuce—an NYPD press release in the archives dated February 1970 said prostitution arrests had increased 13 percent from 1968 to 1969.  

Public pressure pushed the Lindsay administration to crack down on prostitution. On July 2, 1971, Mayor Lindsay’s criminal justice coordinator reported on a meeting with representatives of District Attorney Frank Hogan and said prosecutors vowed to “push harder” and seek jail terms for repeat offenders and bail jumpers. A week later, a memo from Lindsay’s counsel’s office suggested a broad crackdown on pimps.

A January 1973 report on the “Status of Enforcement Programs to Control Prostitution and Pornography in the Midtown Area" warned of the deterioration of Times Square.

“For a considerable period of time, the Midtown area, and particularly Times Square, has witnessed a thriving business in prostitution and pornography,” the report said. “These vices do not exist in a vacuum. On the contrary, they prosper in a milieu of thieves, degenerates and undesirables.”

It noted that the NYPD’s Manhattan South Morals District made 1,031 prostitution arrests between April and November of 1972, but that just 92 resulted in jail time, while 396 cases generated fines. There was also some violence when three cops were injured in a melee with hookers resisting arrest; one pimp was arrested for trying to stab a cop.

The report listed 30 hotels that “catered to” prostitution, including The Sun, at 606 Eighth Avenue listed then as owned by the “Trump Realty Corp.” The city secured restraining orders against six of the hotels. Three of them, The Raymona, The Radio Center and the Lark, soon closed. The report noted that The Sun was “cooperating” with authorities to clean up the hotel.

The Sun Hotel at 606 Eighth Avenue was purchased by the Trump Realty Corp. in 1970. Department of Finance Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

It also listed 41 massage parlors involved in prostitution and six midtown bars as “havens for pimps,” and noted that the random arrest and conviction approach “has not achieved the hoped-for success." The city then tried another tactic: It subpoenaed the tax records of 13 pimps to determine if tax evasion charges were an option and also formed a multi-agency task force to inspect and possibly shut down massage parlors.

That brought mixed results, at best. In 1976 Mayor Abe Beame created the federally-funded Midtown Enforcement Project (MEP) to clean up Times Square. One tactic was to put together a team of investigators from the city’s Health, Buildings and Fire departments to shut the parlors down for various violations.

In one of its first reports for the period of April to June of 1977, officials reported about 200 arrests for prostitution and obscenity, including live sex shows. From January 1 to March 31 of 1977, the NYPD’s Public Morals Squad made a total of 850 prostitution arrests, most of which resulted in some jail time. And a zoning change in the late 1970s “effectively banned most massage parlors.”

The most disturbing part in this period was a spike in juvenile prostitution, primarily in the Times Square area, as noted in a MEP report on juvenile prostitution from the Criminal Justice Center of John Jay College.

The report, which drew on 3½ months of data and interviews with 32 teenage girls, found it was hard to dissuade girls from that life.

“It is quite daunting to consider methods to persuade a 15-year-year-old who is earning $150 a night, seven days a week, that she should return to her vocational high school,” the report said, adding that the girls they interviewed came from every part of the country and that most said girls that they knew brought them into the life.

It told of Debbie, 15, from upstate New York who came to the City to visit a friend and found the friend was living with a “friendly charming man who bought and gave her clothes” and persuaded her to become a prostitute. Debbie told the interviewer the pimp thwarted her attempts to go back home.

The report also cited Kathy, 17, from Westchester County, who struck up a friendship with a girl on a visit to New York City. They stayed in touch, and after a while, the girl convinced Kathy to become a prostitute.

“None of the girls claimed they were kidnapped or raped and then ‘turned out’ as prostitutes.”

Times Square Action Plan, 1978. NYC Municipal Library.

The problem continued to worsen, though. In July, 1978, it was estimated that Times Square had 52 adult movie houses with live sex and peep shows, 63 massage parlors and 34 “prostitution-prone” hotels.

In August, 1978, the first of two Times Square “Action Plans” declared that: “Over the past four decades, successive city administrations have made repeated attempts to ‘clean up’ Times Square.”

Part of the plan was the creation of bi-weekly Midtown Task Force meetings at City Hall. The report noted that the city launched Operation Crossroads earlier in the year, which included increased police visibility and foot patrols in the area from 40th to 50th Streets between Sixth and Ninth Avenues. The NYPD also began a crackdown on “johns” carried out by undercover female police officers.

But news reports of the increasing problem angered Mayor Koch, who sent a stern memo to Deputy Mayor Nat Leventhal on May 20, 1982, in which he called for a “campaign to deal with child prostitution” in Midtown.

Letter from Mayor Koch to Deputy Mayor Nat Leventhal on child prostitution on 42nd Street, 1982. Mayor Koch Collection, Departmental Correspondence, NYC Municipal Archives.

“Enclosed is a copy of a report that I received from (Police Commissioner) Bob McGuire,” Koch wrote. “From my point of view, it is unsatisfactory. They believe they are doing all that can be done and that they are limited by laws in making inquiries when they see a suspicious adult with a child. We know that many of these situations involved adult pickups of children who may want to be picked up for prostitution purposes; nevertheless, they must be protected.”

Koch ordered Leventhal to convene a meeting “with the appropriate people to figure out a strategy to deal with this problem.” Attached to the letter was report from the U.S. General Accounting Office, which said child prostitution had increased in the last five years and that as many as 400 to 500 minors were working as prostitutes on any given day.

The various strategies made a dent in teen prostitution, at least in Midtown.  A second Times Square Action Plan, issued in October 1984, noted an increase in “quality hotels” in the area. It also said there had been a decrease in “sex-related” business in Times Square from 96 in December 1977, to 51 in September 1984.

By the early 1990s and beyond, Times Square was largely transformed from a hotbed of prostitution to a tourist-friendly area, with rejuvenated hotels, Disney Stores and Mickey Mouse largely replacing streetwalkers.

251 West 42nd Street, ca. 1985. Department of Finance Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

But of course, prostitution didn’t go away. A Daily News story in the files from March 1981 was headlined: “Thy Neighbor’s Vice, a Tour of the Thriving Brothels of Manhattan.” It reported that brothels were alive and well between East 14th St. to Times Square and in parts of the Upper East Side and Upper West Side.

In 1986, a State Bar Association committee suggested creating “commercial districts” where prostitutes could work. That didn’t go anywhere, nor did a bill introduced in the State Senate this summer which called for the decriminalization of prostitution.

As Charlie Rangel said many years ago, prostitution will always be with us.

A History of Prostitution in New York City from the American Revolution to the Bad Old Days of the 1970s and 1980s

Prostitution has long been called the “World’s Oldest Profession.” It also is the most resilient.

In New York, it begins in Colonial times, stretches through the Civil War Era, the “Halcyon Days” of the bawdy mid-1880s, to police corruption and Tammany Hall protection at the turn of the 20th Century, the sensational “Lucky” Luciano prostitution trial in the 1930s, and the Bad Old Days of the 1970s and 1980s when teenage hookers and “Live Sex” porn palaces clogged Times Square.

It has survived and thrived despite periodic crackdowns, blue-ribbon investigations and “clean up” drives. Laws have been passed with varying results and there have been repeated calls to legalize it—as recently as June, when several State lawmakers introduced legislation to decriminalize it. 

Yet it persists.

The Municipal Library and Archives collections provide a wealth of documentation on the periodic fights to control prostitution. There are court records dating back to the 1800s, reports from civic organizations, City agency publications, books and correspondence from several mayors including Ed Koch and Rudy Giuliani.

“Over the past four decades, successive city administrations have made repeated attempts to ‘clean up’ Times Square; each new attempt was met by increased skepticism,” the first of two Times Square “Action Plans” declared in 1978.

The timeline was off by a couple of centuries.

The Municipal Library collection includes Timothy Gilfoyle’s meticulously researched book, City of Eros: New York City, Prostitution and the Commercialization of Sex 1790-1920.  Gilfoyle drew upon scores of sources in the Municipal Archives, particularly the District Attorney Indictment Papers, dating back to the late 18th Century.

In the years before the American Revolution, prostitutes worked the wharves, entertaining British sailors and local New Yorkers alike. Most of the traffic was in three main areas in what is now known as Lower Manhattan: The “Holy Ground” behind St. Paul’s Chapel, George Street near City Commons—now called City Hall Park—and East George Street, then the northeast fringe of New York City.

“Between 1790 and 1809 … two-thirds of the nearly 200 indictments for prostitution were for illegal activities near the East River docks; 26 percent on East George and George streets alone,” Gilfoyle reports, referring to district attorney records in the Archives.

Citizen outrage over widespread prostitution led to a crackdown, but “by mid-century New York had become the carnal showcase of the Western World.”    

In addition to the women who worked the streets, there were an estimated 200 brothels in New York City in 1820. That grew to more than 600 by the end of the Civil War. Over those years, much of the prostitution moved north to “Paradise Square” in Five Points, as well as lower Broadway, the Bowery, Greenwich Village and Chelsea—much of it out in the open and protected by Tammany Hall stalwarts and big street gangs.

Gilfoyle called the period between 1836 and 1871 “the Halcyon Years” of commercialized sex. It was so widely known that one Sunday in 1857, the Rev. William Berrian, rector of Trinity Church, supposedly declared from the pulpit that in his 50 years in the ministry he had not been “In a house of ill fame more than 10 times.”

“THE QUEEN” OF NEW YORK’S MADAMS

New York had its share of so-called “Celebrity” or “Star” madams, but one that stands out was Rosa Hertz, who, with her husband, Jacob, and her brother ran a string of brothels on the Lower East Side on Stanton Street, Ludlow Street and East Ninth Street, and later along Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn.  

Indictment papers in the archives show that Hertz, a one-time prostitute also known as “Rosie,” or “Mother Hertz,” was charged with keeping a bawdy house where one of her prostitutes “did commit whoredom and fornication.”  She and her husband were in indicted in May 1886 on charges of “keeping and maintaining a common bawdy house and house of ill fame,” despite claims that she was paying off police for “protection.” 

cropped Indictment - Rose Hertz 11 Feb 1885 - Ct. of Gen. Sessions Box 166 f. 1694.jpg
On February 11, 1885, a grand jury indicted “Rose” Hertz for “Keeping a Bawdy House.” The felony prosecution case file includes the Manhattan 3rd District Police Court complaint where one Louis Burger alleges that he “… .was solicited in the premise…

On February 11, 1885, a grand jury indicted “Rose” Hertz for “Keeping a Bawdy House.” The felony prosecution case file includes the Manhattan 3rd District Police Court complaint where one Louis Burger alleges that he “… .was solicited in the premises no 64 Stanton Street for the purpose of prostitution… . ” The file also includes a letter from Police Captain Anthony J. Allaire, stating that to his knowledge Rose Hertz had moved away from the Precinct. In consequence, the Assistant District Attorney in charge of the case recommended that the indictment should be dismissed since the “nuisance” had been abated. New York City Court of General Sessions Felony Indictment Files, 1879-1894. NYC Municipal Archives


The Library also holds biennial reports from the Committee of Fourteen, an anti-saloon civic group, which noted that at one point Hertz “obtained from the courts an injunction to restrain the police from interfering with her.”

The group’s annual report from 1916-1917 called Hertz a longtime “power in the vice district” in Lower Manhattan.”

She was convicted on February 3, 1913 on charges of running a disorderly house on East Ninth Street and jailed in the Tombs. This time, she threatened to name her protectors.  A lengthy New York Times article on February 21, 1913, based on statements from then-Manhattan District Attorney Charles S. Whitman, reported: “For twenty years she had run disorderly resorts and built up a big business that made her rich. During all those years she paid fat prices for protection to police and more fat prices to politicians for other favors and because she was squeezed.”

Though the article named several police officials who took money from brothels, it’s unclear whether Hertz delivered on her promise to identify crooked cops and politicians. In any event, a July 6, 1913 Times article headlined “WOMAN WHITE SLAVER GOES TO JAIL” reported: “Sheriff Harberger took yesterday Rosie Hertz, the proprietress of several white slave dens, to Blackwell’s Island to begin her sentence of one year’s imprisonment. Mrs. Hertz has been in the Tombs since February 3 on the promise that she would reveal police graft in the white slave traffic.”

The Times estimated she was worth $105,000 in 1903, which would be about $3 million today.

THE “SOCIAL EVIL” IN NEW YORK

Public outrage had become so vocal by the early 1900s that the Committee of Fourteen was formed to combat “The Social Evil in New York City.” 

The Committee, whose reports are in the Municipal Library, noted that in 1905 Park Row and Bowery dives catering to prostitution were “going full blast.” Among them were “The Flea Bag,” “Scottie Lavelle’s,” “Paddy Mullins’,” and “The Little Jumbo.”

It also made a distinction between the higher-class bordellos like Hertz ran and the lower-priced ones where women “were poorly fed and exploited in various ways by the madames and proprietors. When a woman received a patron, the money was immediately turned over to the madame.” Women got half of what they earned, minus board, drinks, doctor’s fees and clothes.

One of its first reports included a chapter on “The Protection of Women” and detailed how prostitution operated in those days despite “feeble” legislative attempts to curb it. The report said the first rung in exploiting women was the “cadet” or pimp. “The cadet is the procurer who keeps up the supply of women for immoral purposes” through “entrapment, threats of bodily harm, seduction, fraud or duplicity.”

Some of the cadets came from the ranks of street gangs with ties to local Tammany Hall politicians. “Small army of vicious young men are used to ... see that houses secure inmates and that vice in general is not allowed to decrease. it is for the profit of these men and of various businesses and political interests which find prostitution valuable.” 

Subsequent committee reports described police corruption in detail. A 1907-1908 report claimed that large brothels paid police $400 to $600 a month, corrupt plainclothes cops received $205 and patrolmen got about $184 monthly.  

One of the leading books on the topics in the Municipal Library is Commercialized Prostitution in New York City, by George Kneeland, written in 1917. It focuses on information from a 1910 Special Grand Jury probe of “white slave traffic” in New York, creation of the Bureau of Social Hygiene and delves into police corruption.

The book describes several locales for bordellos: “The parlor house, the tenement house apartment, the furnished room house, the disorderly hotel and the message parlor.”

It also describes the pecking order of such places. He wrote that investigators visited 142 parlor houses between January 24, 1912 and November 15, 1912. Of those visited, “20 are known to the trade as fifty-cent houses, 80 as one-dollar houses, 6 as two-dollar houses and 34 as five- and ten-dollar houses.” The remaining two were uncategorized.

Prostitution and Its Repression in New York City, 1900-1931, by Willoughby Cyrus Waterman, 1932.

Prostitution and Its Repression in New York City, 1900-1931, by Willoughby Cyrus Waterman, 1932.

Another book in the Library that describe the prostitution business and its protectors in the era is Prostitution and its Repression in New York City 1900-1931, by Willoughby Cyrus Waterman. 

“It is clearly evident that during the early years of the century the New York police, far from protecting the city from vice, were rather actively engaged in aiding and abetting the very conditions which they were obliged to protect.” 

The book noted that police crackdowns often concentrated on low-level operations while leaving the high-class brothels alone. The city created night courts for women in 1910 to handle the ever-increasing volume of prostitution arrests.

In its 1930 report, the Committee of Fourteen said that the turn of the century “corruption in the Police Department was almost general and the main source of that corruption was organized, commercialized vice.”

That corruption wasn’t confined to police, though. In one of its final reports, the Committee felt compelled to make an embarrassing admission—and to issue a public apology: John Weston, an assistant district attorney assigned to the Women’s Court—whom the committee had praised over the years—confessed to accepting “petty cash gratuities” involving 350 to 400 cases.

The Committee of Fourteen disbanded in 1932, when it was no longer able to raise money for its operations. 

Four years later, prostitution again captured the public’s imagination with the sensational trial of perhaps the most powerful Organized Crime boss in the country, Charles “Lucky” Luciano. 

TO BE CONTINUED ...

Covering Wars Before Before the Advent of “Fake News” and the 24-Hour News Cycle

In an era of “fake news” and 24-hour news cycles, it’s worth a look back at how the press covered things back in the days of the Pony Express, snail mail and telegraph—without television, radio, the Internet. 

One good way to do that is to examine coverage of the Civil War through a set of dozens of yellowed and fragile copies of Horace Greeley’s Weekly and Semi-Weekly New-York Tribune residing in the Municipal Library. Those editions condensed the decidedly pro-Union Daily Tribune and were mailed to tens of thousands of readers from Maine to California starting at $2 a year and eventually going up to $4 annually.

The January 9, 1863 edition of the New-York Semi-Weekly Tribune.

Not surprisingly, war news dominated most editions—which were generally eight pages. But there was local news from New York on education issues, a Queens County Fair, a fire in Buffalo, the latest Cattle Market prices, advertisements for such things as Holloway’s ointment—“for sabre cuts, gunshot wounds and all other wounds”—and, in late 1862, ads for “cheap editions” of Victor Hugo’s “Les Miserables,” at $1.50 for five cloth-bound volumes.

The Library’s collection picks up in September 1862, just before the major battles at Antietam/Sharpsburg and Fredericksburg. Many of the dispatches are from “staff correspondents,” but there also are stories from newspapers in Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, D.C., and elsewhere, written in the somewhat formal or stilted language of the time, which include references we would find racist today. Several issues contain large maps of troop movements and battles.

The September 13, 1862 edition reported: “We continue to extract the pith of rumors and opinions concerning the position, conduct and prospects of the Rebel army” in Maryland, and added, “Our Washington dispatches say that a fight is expected at Frederick (Md.) where the Rebel main body is thought to be.” It went on to quote “two men from Frederick” who say, “There are but few Rebel troops there … the Rebels are in a state of great destitution; many of them are shoeless and are only kept in the ranks at the point of a bayonet.”

Another dispatch quoted Union soldiers as saying they believed “an immediate attack on Harper’s Ferry was intended. Some of the soldiers (said) they reckoned there were about 12,000 Union troops at the Ferry with at least 2,500 negroes worth a million dollars.”

The December 16, 1862 edition of the New-York Semi-Weekly Tribune included a map of “the new state of West Virginia,” which would not officially become part of the Union until June 20, 1863.

The September 19 edition included a dispatch on a “fierce and desperate battle at Antietam “between 200,000 men (that) has raged since daylight …it’s the greatest fight since Waterloo.” The correspondent breathlessly added: “If not wholly a victory tonight, I believe it’s a prelude to a victory tomorrow.”

The prediction proved to be true, as the Union Army, led by Maj. Gen. George McClellan routed the Rebels in one of the fiercest battles of the Civil War in which 22,717 men were killed, wounded or reported missing. The paper called it a “brilliant victory,” and added: “All agree that no battle, since the rebellion broke out, has engaged more men or been fought with more desperation … Our (Union) soldiers behaved like heroes.” The dispatch also noted, in a back-handed way, the dedication and resolve of the Confederate Army: “It is not for love, much as they profess it … it is for hate, in part, of the d—mned Yankees.”

Several days after Antietam, President Abraham Lincoln, issued the Emancipation Proclamation – to take effect Jan. 1, 1863—freeing 3.1 million enslaved people. The September 26 edition included a dispatch filed two days earlier on a massive celebration in Washington, D.C.

“The serenade in honor of the Emancipation Proclamation tonight called out a large and enthusiastic throng,” the Tribune reported. “Nobody expected a long speech from the President, so nobody was disappointed with the brevity of his remarks … He had issued the proclamation with a full knowledge of what he was doing and would stand by it.”

The January 9, 1863 edition of the New-York Semi-Weekly Tribune had a large front page map of the battlefields in Kentucky and Tennessee that the paper called “by far the most accurate and complete of any yet published.”

In non-war news, the September 23 issue also wrote of “Our Indian difficulties.” The dispatch reported on a letter from Dakota Sioux Chief Little Crow to Gen. Harry Hopkins Silbey “in which he wants to know in what way can he make peace” to end the fighting in the Sioux Uprising of 1862 in the Minnesota River Valley in which Sioux warriors raided settler villages. But the war went on a little while longer. Afterward, 38 Dakota tribe members were hanged the day after Christmas 1862.

On October 31, 1862, the Tribune reported on the Union Army’s failure to capture control of the Charleston and Savannah Railroad, a key Confederate pipeline. “It is now known that the late expedition up Broad River to break up the Charleston and Savannah Railroad was not a success. In plain words, the Union forces were defeated … We cannot judge, at this moment, of the nature of the affair, but it does seem strange that so apparently simple a matter of the obstruction of this road is so long delayed.”

The newspapers of November of that year detailed the push toward the Great Battle of Fredericksburg, which would result in one of the costliest Union defeats of the war. On November 7, the Tribune reported that, “dispatches from General McClellan’s headquarters say that the advance of the Army of the Potomac up the Valley on the left side of the Blue Ridge, is being pushed forward with all dispatch. Gen. Pleasanton occupied Upperville Monday afternoon after a spirited engagement with the enemy lasting four hours.”

On November 28, the paper reported that there was “no fighting yet at Fredericksburg. The Rebels are bringing up their entire army evidently to contest the passage of the river by (Gen. Ambrose) Burnside. The dispatch laments that the Union army was not being aggressive enough. “Our army seems to be waiting until the whole force of the Rebels shall arrive to get into line of battle.”

The December 16, 1862 edition of the New-York Semi-Weekly Tribune reported on the Battle of Fredericksburg.

The December 12 edition reported that preparations for the Great Battle had begun. “A large portion of the city (was) destroyed.” But the news quickly turned grim for the Union army. A December 14 dispatch reported the ominous news in a large headline and 11-deck sub-headline: 

“OUR TROOPS OBLIGED TO FALL BACK. THE OBJECT SOUGHT UNATTAINED.” 

The story, which took up four full columns, reported: During last night and this afternoon the Rebels have considerably extended their works and strengthened their position. Large bodies of troops are now to be seen where, but few were to be found yesterday.” In total, 12,700 Union soldiers were killed, compared to 5,300 Confederate casualties.

Several weeks later, the Tribune reported a “great and glorious” Union victory at Murfreesboro, Tenn. “The Rebels ran away in the night... their Army utterly demoralized.”

“The Draft Riots of New York, July 1863,” from The Diary of George Templeton Strong, NYC Municipal Library.

“The Draft Riots of New York, July 1863,” from The Diary of George Templeton Strong, NYC Municipal Library.

The Library’s collection of these papers has a gap between January 27, 1863 and August 30, 1864, which encompassed the Draft Riots in New York City. The Civil War in New York City, by Ernest A. McKay tells of the riots, which erupted from July 11–16, 1863 when white mobs opposed to the draft rioted, pillaged, hanged at least one black man, and trashed Tribune offices. “Windows were broken at Tribune offices and some furniture was destroyed.” McKay then recounted the “disgraceful burning of the Colored Orphan Asylum” on Fifth Avenue, between 43rd and 44th Streets. “A wild horde, mainly of Irish,” ransacked the building. “Hundreds of rioters ran through the four-story building stealing anything in sight.” 

“The Draft Riots of New York, July 1863,” from The Diary of George Templeton Strong, NYC Municipal Library.

That gap also included the Battle of Gettysburg. However, the Daily Tribune in early July 1863 told the tale which, presumably was in the semi-weekly editions. On July 3, 1863, the Daily Tribune recounted the “severe battle near Gettysburg … the battle opened yesterday morning by severe skirmishing … the fight continued throughout the day with variable results.” On July 7, the daily paper heralded “The great victory … Our whole army in motion from Frederick, Md. A courier from Gettysburg to-day reports that Gen (George Gordon) Meade’s army this morning advanced 6 miles beyond the battlefield.” More than 50,000 men were killed in the three-day battle, the largest number of the entire war and a key turning point of the Civil War.

The Library’s collection picks up in late 1864, after the Battle of Atlanta and leads up to the Battle of Nashville, which was fought in late December 1864. Proclaiming a “great victory,” the Tribune’s December 23 edition reported the Rebel army was in “full retreat” after the Union side attacked the Rebels’ rear guard, capturing large numbers of prisoners.

“The 4th Corps crossed the Harpeth River at Franklin on Sunday morning. (Gen. George) Thomas is pursuing the enemy to Duck River. We have nearly all (Gen. John Bell) Hood’s artillery and his army is really fully demoralized.” The December 27 issue elaborates: The Rebels’ retreat from Franklin to Duck River beggars all description. Hood told his corps commander to get off the best way they could.”

The March 24, 1865 edition previewed the expected “great combined attack in Mobile” (the Mobile Campaign), which would be fought from March 25 to April 12, and resulted in a Union victory. It was the last great Civil War battle. The collection ends just before General Robert E. Lee surrendered to General Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Court House, VA, on April 9, 1865.

The New York Herald, which ultimately would merge with the Tribune summed up the surrender this way in large, bold-faced headline: “THE END.”

The sub headline read: “SURRENDER OF LEE AND HIS WHOLE ARMY TO GRANT.”

Coney Island, from rabbits, to hucksters to ‘The World’s Largest Playground’

Summer may not officially be here yet, but New York City’s beach season is underway and that means it’s time for a refresher course on one of the city’s most venerable and storied beaches – Coney Island.

This year’s beach-goers will find some old favorites: The newish version of Luna Park, the 99th year of the Wonder Wheel, thrilling rides like the Cyclone and the Thunderbolt, and the 37th edition of the beloved, wild and wacky Mermaid Parade, with Arlo Guthrie as this year’s Neptune King and his sister Nora as Queen Mermaid. And, of course, a new season for the Mets’ minor league team, the Brooklyn Cyclones, at MCU Park (Municipal Credit Union), the former site of the historic Steeplechase Park.

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