Beyond such high construction costs, the railroad’s stock was also prone to manipulation, and one of its presidents even went on to defraud investors with phony stock, absconding to France after being caught. It got bad enough that the Harlem’s stock certificates were seen as bearing little value beyond than the paper they were printed on. Add on the dangers of the road—safety too was one of those “figure it out as you go along” things—and you end up with a company with an absolutely abysmal reputation with the public. Thus when Cornelius Vanderbilt commenced his takeover, it was generally well perceived, with the Commodore’s shrewd business reputation restoring credibility to the beleaguered Harlem. Though Vanderbilt gets much of the credit for the early success of these rails, there was another man in the background who deserves some credit in how the Harlem truly came to be, and even how the rails are aligned to this day—Gouverneur Morris, Jr.

Gouverneur Morris, Jr.

Born in Morrisania in 1813 into the influential Morris family, Gouverneur’s uncle was a signer of the Declaration of Independence, and his father was one of the authors of the Constitution. The family owned much of what is today the Bronx, then the Manor of Morrisania in Westchester County. Only a toddler when his father passed, young Gouverneur was sole heir to nearly half of the original manor’s landholdings. It was under his ownership that the land would transition from sparsely populated farmland to a town of thousands. Morris envisioned a center of heavy industry, and with access to deep water, a vast network of shipping by sea and by land.

Morris was convinced that a railroad was integral to these dreams. He was an early backer of the New York and Albany Railroad, the road that the New York and Harlem was supposed to join up with at the banks of the Harlem River. But when the New York and Albany failed to materialize, Morris threw his support behind the New York and Harlem, which was eventually granted the charter to expand northward where the other had failed. Wielding significant power due to his family’s ownership of an existing bridge over the Harlem River, Morris facilitated the rights for the Harlem to use it to cross into what was then Westchester, and he, along with several of his family members, made deals with the Harlem for land to build ever northward.

The Harlem reached Williamsbridge in 1842, and shortly thereafter Morris opened a private rail line across his estate, connecting to the newly arrived Harlem near what is now Melrose. He referred to this line as the Morrisania Branch Railroad, and the first commodity it carried was milk from the dairies on his farmland to the city. During the swill milk crisis, Morris and several other nearby dairymen including Thompson Decker (whose business would eventually become a part of Sheffield Farms through merger) were proponents of “pure milk” and lobbied the Harlem and other railroads for additional milk trains through upper Westchester and beyond. For decades milk remained an important commodity of the Harlem, with the famed Rutland Milk, or “Rut Milk” train, and shipments to Sheffield Farms’s expansive gravity milk plant near Melrose Junction.

Land agreements between Morris family members and the New York and Harlem Railroad.

Founding Morrisania

By 1848 New York City was continuing to grow, and many men dreamed of escaping tenements and landlords, for a land they owned themselves. The Harlem’s expansion opened a new opportunity for such men—the ability to remain at their city jobs, but to likewise own their own homes in the “country.” A committee of families sharing such sentiment was formed at Military Hall in the Bowery, and led by Jordan Mott (who had previously purchased land from the Morrises to build his foundry in the area now named for him, Mott Haven), secured the purchase of 200 acres from Gouverneur Morris. After planning a grid of streets and reserving a piece of land for a rail depot, school, and public square, those 200 acres yielded 167 plots of land. At a subsequent committee meeting cards with each of the numbers 1 to 167 were placed in a box. The men each drew a card, and the number shown indicated their order in picking from the array of lots. These men in their New Village, eventually to be named Morrisania, were the Harlem Railroad’s first suburban commuters. Their new train stop saw fifteen trains a day, and the yearly price of commutation was $37.50 to ride any train, or at a discounted $30 a year to be restricted to ride one specifically designated commutation train in the morning and evening. Within several years a depot proper was constructed, and George Tremper was appointed the first Station Agent.

Gouverneur Morris would continue to sell off portions of his estate, and the town of Morrisania, and the villages like Melrose, Port Morris, and Claremont within would all continue to grow. Within the first year 68 homes would rise, and within two decades of Morris’s first sale to the committee in the Bowery there were 2,356 homes. Many heavy industries did pop up in the vicinity of Port Morris—beyond the coal and lumber yards German immigrants established a handful of breweries, and by the turn of the century pianos were rolling along the rails from an array of factories—but the dream of being New York City’s primary deep water port never materialized. Noteworthy ships such as the steamer Great Eastern did approach its waters, and the Morrisania Branch provided excursion passenger service for those curious to catch a glimpse of it.

In his History of Morrisania, resident and local historian Myron Finch’s colorful recollections of living adjacent to the Harlem mention a yard of six switches and a turntable at Melrose Junction, with four passenger trains a day over the branch to Port Morris with a connection to the ferry to Rikers Island, although this service was likely short lived. Meanwhile, the Harlem proper, although an integral part of their commuter village, was simultaneously seen as a “slaughter ground” by residents due to the derailments, collisions, and death it brought. Mishaps were unnervingly frequent, from trains colliding into the rear of another while they discharged passengers, to near misses of almost careening off the open drawbridge on the Harlem River. While aboard one train that derailed in the Yorkville Tunnel, Finch recalled:

Cars [were] thrown across both tracks in a zig-zag direction, from under which we were compelled to crawl out as best we could, in pursuit of daylight! It was an exciting scene in the darkness of that tunnel and one well calculated to make us feel how providentially we had been preserved from a horrid death.

These accidents led to new rules regulating speed, signaling, and the offloading of passengers—an early example of the old adage that every railroad rule is written in blood.

Morrisania Branch to Port Morris Branch

The Morrisania Branch Railroad quickly grew beyond shipments of milk and began carrying freight from the industries popping up around Port Morris. Marble, plaster, wood, and coal were all commodities moving across the branch, heading to locations along the New York and Harlem and beyond. A large grain elevator would eventually be constructed near Melrose, and the line would add two more yards to handle all of the traffic. Specially designed cars with oak frames and hinged trap doors on the bottom were ordered to carry coal. Even the foundry that produced the grand iron dome for the United States Capitol building could be found along the branch. According to lore, the iron for the dome was loaded onto railcars at the Janes & Kirtland Foundry’s industry track, taking a short jaunt down to the port to be loaded onto a ship for the longer journey to Washington DC.

Morris sold the his branch to the Harlem Railroad in 1853 for $118,000, where it subsequently became known as the Port Morris Branch. The original routing to Port Morris was at surface level along the perimeter of the Mary’s Park estate (the future St. Mary’s Park), but was upgraded during the railroad’s massive electrification project around 1905. At that time all remaining grade crossings were eliminated by sinking the track below the streets, and a tunnel was constructed to take the line underneath St. Mary’s Park. A massive power house was constructed by the waterside at Port Morris, twin to the one that still stands at Glenwood. This plant provided the power for the newly electrified Harlem Division. At its height, the branch had three yards—one at each end in Melrose and Port Morris, and another smaller yard at the approximate center along Westchester Avenue.

Ultimately, the branch’s unwieldy zig zag orientation as trains switched from the Harlem to the Hudson at Mott Haven, coupled with drainage issues and low height restrictions as a result of the 1905 track sinking would lead to its demise. The last trains would operate over the line in the late 90s, with the Oak Point Link superseding it upon opening in 1998. The derailment of a 125 car freight bound for Port Morris just a month before the Link opened highlighted the problematic nature of the branch—snarling traffic near Mott Haven blocked all three lines of Metro-North from accessing Manhattan. Simply antiquated, the branch unable to meet the needs of the modern era, and as-is was detrimental to the area’s burgeoning passenger traffic. The Port Morris Branch was officially abandoned in 2003, a final end to over 150 years of freight service.

These days, freight of any sort is a rarity on the Harlem. The final customer in the Bronx receives a shipment of a single carload around every three months, serviced by CSX.

Vanderbilt’s Ruse

Gouverneur Morris Jr. served as a Vice President of the New York and Harlem Railroad for several years, and was a partner in the firm Morris, Miller, and Schuyler, which built the Harlem’s “Albany Extension” from Dover Plains to Chatham (while Morris and Miller both had rail stops named for them, Schuyler was the aforementioned crooked president who sold phony stock, and thus missed out). Nearly two decades after selling his Morrisania Branch, Morris played an integral part in Cornelius Vanderbilt’s plans to link the Harlem with the Hudson River Railroad by chartering the Spuyten Duyvil and Port Morris Railroad (contrary to popular belief, the Port Morris Branch was never a part of the SD&PM). The move was designed to raise little suspicion, as Vanderbilt had not yet taken over the Hudson River Railroad, and if the Commodore himself had made moves to preemptively connect it to the Harlem, it would have gotten people talking! Thus Gouverneur Morris played an important role in bringing the Hudson into Grand Central through Mott Haven, an orientation that continues to this day.

Throughout his life, railroads remained one of Morris’s primary endeavors, and he served on the boards of several roads, as well as holding the presidency of the Vermont Valley Railroad. Although proud of the workingman’s village he helped create, Morris never saw himself as a city dweller, and was reportedly disappointed when Morrisania was annexed by New York City in 1874. He retired to Bartow-on-the-Sound, which was then a part of Pelham, now known as City Island (it too was annexed, albeit after Morris’s passing). Despite his accomplishments to railroading, Morris’s New York Times obituary consisted of 168 words about himself and his offspring, with a further 214 words devoted to his more famous father. Yet without Gouverneur Morris Jr., the New York and Harlem Railroad may never have crossed the banks of the Harlem River, nor reached Columbia County. Thus more than a century later, his indispensable contributions to the Harlem, and to the Bronx, are duly noted upon this page.

I hope you’re enjoying our recent series of posts covering the history of the Bronx. I had intended for this article to be published quite a while ago, but managed to get an appointment to view Gouverneur Morris Jr.’s papers at the New York Historical Society. His meticulous records provide some of the interesting tidbits found in today’s post, including the data on the types of freight carried and where they were delivered.

The Port Morris Branch has been a topic of interest for me for quite a while, likely because there seems to be so little written about it. I’ll be continuing with the theme of the history of the Bronx, and focusing on the Port Morris Branch, along with the real story of the Spuyten Duyvil and Port Morris Railroad, in the next few posts—so stay tuned!

As a nice primer to the era, today I present a Harlem Line employee timetable from 1878, covering the area from Grand Central to Mott Haven. By this time the Harlem’s street-running trains (many still pulled by horses) in lower Manhattan had become a separate and distinct service, and the Hudson and New Haven had been united with the Harlem in the first Grand Central. You’ll see references to the Spuyten Duyvil and Port Morris Junction, or what we’re more familiar with as Mott Haven Junction today. The story of the SD&PM will figure prominently in our upcoming articles, but the short explanation is that it provided the integral link that brought the Hudson River Railroad into Grand Central Depot, beginning the process of launching that road into prominence, and relegating the Harlem on its own tracks (case in point, when the electric division was established, Grand Central to Mott Haven became part of the Hudson, with the Harlem “starting” beyond that point).

While seeing the times of trains is certainly fascinating, the gold is really in the rules of the road. From Hudson being identified by the color yellow, and the Harlem by green, to the antiquated signaling rules, there’s plenty of delightful little tidbits to find throughout. Roger had not made his big debut yet, it was okay to acknowledge with simply an “all right.” And detonating signals, or torpedoes, served a real purpose beyond sticking them on the rail to celebrate an old timer’s retirement (this yougin’ may have just dated herself…).

Take a read, and let us know in the comments which rules of the road you find most interesting!

The new station to which the train had arrived was a simple wooden affair, which the guests likened to a “barn-like shanty.” It simply blended in with the rest of the small farming town of just over a thousand inhabitants. At the time White Plains was merely a “sweet inland village” just over the “pleasant hills and through the valley of the Bronx.” It was remembered as a battlefield of the Revolution, and where George Washington kept his headquarters for a time. But now, linked with rails of iron (and they were iron—not the metal-strapped wood rails the Harlem had spent much money to experiment with and later replace) to the city of New York, surely this sleepy town was bound to grow exponentially!

Adding to the crowd already surrounding the station, the three hundred or so railroad brass and their invited guests ambled out and onto dinner just a short ways away. Their trip began at New York’s City Hall, stuffed until they were practically overflowing into cars hauled by horses of the flesh and blood variety. Transferring over to a steamer at 27th Street they began their journey of “romantic and historical tradition and reminiscence” which is just a fancy way of saying that when the president of the railroad is on board and wants to stop to fill up on alcohol, by God you stop the train at Harlem and Fordham to get more, of course!

Thankfully railroad president David Banks was not too inebriated to provide a rousing speech highlighting the Harlem’s past obstacles and opposition overcome, and provide optimism for the future of the railroad—North to the Housatonic? West to Albany? Something great surely would be happening forthwith as it was the manifest destiny of the capitalists and businessmen of New York to build a railroad to Lake Erie and then the west!

And one cannot forget the toasts!

To the Judiciary of New York—their learning and judgement—as well as the ladies, of whom we see many here—how can the Harlem Railroad fail to prosper, supported by law, love, and physic?

To the farmers of Westchester County, may they reap the benefit of riding on a rail!

Those were, of course, two of many mentioned that night. As far as reaping benefits, it was not only the farmers of Westchester that would be advantaged, but likewise many of the men that celebrated that evening… and the residents of a tiny village that would eventually grow to become the city we know today.

Although there was a good road—thank the sticks and stones, and iron, and other hard materials, including the hard-fisted laborers who worked on it; although there was good weather—thank God—it requires the whole of these commendable considerations together to reconcile one to a dreary, monotonous kill time journey of 3 hour’s duration on 23 miles of a railroad.

—An unfortunately sober reporter for the New York Herald

These [the Harlem Railroad and New York ferries] being cheap and public modes of conveyance, are crowded with masses of people escaping from the city, and pouring themselves out upon the places in its immediate vicinity. The influence arising from this evil is most deleterious. It allures the population from the sanctuary to scenes of mirth and sin. It inflicts on the inhabitants of these adjacent localities, the curse of a vicious and reckless influx of strangers. Intemperance, licentiousness, profaneness, and every form of irreligion, are thus fostered, both in the city itself and in the places of resort around it.

—New York Evangelist rails against the sinful methods of public transportation which operated every day of the week, ignoring the Sabbath, in 1842.

The true measure of distance, especially from a historical perspective, cannot be accurately gauged in miles, but instead in the duration of time it takes one to get there. With the advent of railways, people and goods were able to travel much further than they ever were before, in far less time. But any technological advance of such magnitude inevitably draws out the naysayers, fearmongers, and conspiracy theorists…

The railroad is unnatural! It is sinful! Men were never intended to move at such great speed. Women! Their ovaries will fall from their wombs, rendering them sterile. The jarring motion of the locomotive will make your blood boil, and cause permanent injury to your brain! Madness will certainly be induced by the speed of the dastardly beast! People will surely suffocate! And the cows! Think of the farm animals that will cease to graze, disturbed by this unholy contraption! Hens will quit laying eggs, birds will plummet from the sky in the throes of death.

All of these, and many other, nonsensical beliefs were attributed to the coming of railroads; when preparing their road’s extension, the directors of the Harlem almost expected to hear some of these senseless ideas from the commoners of Westchester.

While no protest would stop the expansion of the Harlem, the cooperation of a succession of land owners along the proposed route of the road was needed. Thus the “diplomatic” and “amiable” Gouverneur Morris Jr. was sent out to negotiate, or “overcome the minds of many of the land owners’ existing prejudices against railroads.” In some cases, little fighting was necessary, as residents intuited the value of having a railroad nearby. Two members of the Purdy family fell into this camp— Jacob, who transferred the land for White Plains, and Isaac, whose land later became the aptly named Purdy’s station. In both cases the land transfers were for nominal fees of a single dollar.

Once the land was acquired, construction steadily moved forward. Many of the laborers constructing the road were Irish immigrants, paid up to 75 cents a day and their board—dirt floor hemlock shanties along the future right-of-way. By June of 1844 service to Tuckahoe was open to the public, and the next six miles into White Plains soon thereafter. The openings were well attended curiosities, and for some it was the first time in their life they had ever glimpsed the magnificent iron horse.

For two full years White Plains served as the terminus of the Harlem Railroad. As such, the road required all the necessary infrastructure to operate, including a roundhouse and turntable. Two small railyards existed on either side of Railroad Avenue (today’s Main Street), with the one on the north end having the turntable, roughly located where the current White Plains station is today. On the south end there were several tracks that directly served some of the new industries that had popped up adjacent to the railroad, including animal feeds, coal, lumber, and other building materials.

Although industries may have found the rails useful, the population of White Plains did not immediately explode after the coming of the Harlem. The added connectivity was certainly valuable, it was just not frequent—service began with only four round trip passenger trains per day, with the trip taking well over an hour (even without the pit stops for acquiring more alcohol). Over time the frequency of trains steadily increased, and the ride time shortened, thanks to new technology (including electrification) and newly scheduled express trains. And instead of a single flat fare for every trip, new types of tickets were introduced, including booklets intended for commuters with 150 ride coupons, valid for three months from the date of purchase.

Just before the turn of the century the Harlem’s single train schedule was split out into two—Form 112, which included the more distant locations along the Harlem, and the Form 113, which were the commutation trains from Grand Central. The timetables also were broken down into weekday and weekend schedules, with additional southbound frequency in the mornings, and northbound in the evenings, new offerings tailored to the commuter. Finally, White Plains had become a realistic suburb, where both living in “the country” and working in the city was feasible, or as New York Times noted in 1927, “White Plains is but thirty-six minutes from Grand Central Station [sic] and actually nearer in point of time than many subway terminals in New York City.”

The present [railroad] service is the result of a steady and satisfactory growth from year to year, until, at the present time, about as many trains are run during the rush hours of the day as the present track accommodations will take care of… for years the service given has actually exceeded the bare necessities of the business to be taken care of, and that instead of being a little behind the times with its service, the railroad company has led the procession…

In addition to all its other charms as a suburban home center, the village of White Plains has that most indispensable feature of suburban life, a first-class train service; and in this respect it is excelled by no other village in the outlying districts of the center of the universe commonly called New York… If the recent growth of both the village and the train service is any indication, White Plains has a very gratifying future indeed.

—John Rosch’s Picturesque White Plains, 1906.

Looking back over the past hundred-plus years of White Plains’ history, did the city live up to the hopes of Rosch and other citizens of yesteryear? Beyond the railroad, what other factors influenced the growth of this city? How did the railroad, complete with two railyards, come to the state it is now? What transit-oriented development can today’s citizens hope to see in the next decade? All of these questions will be considered in the upcoming continuation of our series on the history of White Plains… coming soon!

Although so long ago, in some respects we today are in a similar situation. The city was likewise gripped in a pandemic, although in this case the killer was cholera. Arriving on the shores of New York from oceangoing vessels, the bacterial disease killed 3,000 New Yorkers by the end of the summer in 1832. Laborers building the railroad found parts of the city deserted, as nearly 100,000 people fled the city in fear of cholera. Several of the workers contracted the disease, which some blamed on the apples they would eat from an orchard along Third Avenue, but it wouldn’t be until 1854 that John Snow discovered that the affliction was transmitted through contaminated water. Many of the city’s upper-class denizens were apathetic toward the disease, blaming the poor and their “moral depravity.” Despite cholera’s predominant effect on the working class, construction of the railroad continued.

On November 14, 1832 the festivities were far greater than the groundbreaking the previous year—every New Yorker in the vicinity wanted to see the opening of the New York & Harlem Railroad. The mayor and railroad executives arrived by carriage to the depot near Union Square, and every window in every building facing the tracks had little heads peeking out to catch a view of this novelty of transportation. Two railcars resembling an omnibus had large iron wheels that fit the flanges of the rail, and were each pulled by two horses. Each car, upholstered in fine cloth and complete with fine glass windows, could accommodate forty passengers inside and out. Getting up to a speed of about twelve miles per hour, the horses were able to pull far heavier loads over the rail than if they were on the pavement.

A horsecar on the New York & Harlem Railroad

“The comfort and convenience of this railroad to our citizens will be inconceivable. Instead of being cramped and confined to a single lot of ground and a close atmosphere in the city, an acre or two will be purchased and a comfortable house built at a reduced expense, a garden, orchard, dairy and other conveniences follow; and the train of railroad carriages will start from Trinity Church and convey passengers to Harlem and the intermediate stopping places, with as much facility and ease as they are now conveyed to Greenwich Village. These are a few of the advantages which this small undertaking promise; and in fact it will make Harlem the suburbs of New York.”

—New York Courier and Enquirer

Many were already dreaming for the future. The New York Courier and Enquirer predicted the creation of suburbs because of the railroad, although they were conservative in their estimation that only Harlem would be the suburb. The rail line would eventually spur growth in Westchester and beyond, making New York City easily accessible for commuters. But at this time everyone except the idealists saw the little rail line as just an experiment. Cars were frequently full, although they only operated from 9 AM to 5 PM on every day except Sunday. Stations were largely suggestions—it was permissible for drivers to stop anywhere a passenger needed.

Eventually the line became an established method of transport, with a second track and trains running every fifteen minutes. Locomotives were acquired, supplanting horses on the northern end of the line. Further tunnels were bored, including a 600 foot long tunnel through solid rock in Yorkville between 88th and 95th Streets. By fall of 1837 the line had reached the banks of the Harlem River, and operated from designated stations: Walker, Grand, Broome, Prince, Bond, 4th, 9th, 18th, 21st, 25th, 28th, 32nd, 42nd, 50th, 61st, 71st, 79th, 86th, 92nd, 109th, 115th, 125th, and 133rd.

View of the Tunnel of the Harlem Railroad by Nicolino Calyo, circa 1837.

“The Harlem Railroad may now be considered as completed. This road may be considered but a great link to greater and mightier undertakings. When the rails are laid as they unquestionably will be to Albany, it is certain that there will be one uninterrupted line from this city to Buffalo.”

—New York Evening Express

No one had expected the railroad to go beyond Harlem. A previously chartered road, the New York and Albany Railroad, was unable to complete their line after six years and surrendered their rights to the New York and Harlem in 1838. The state legislature authorized the construction of a bridge over the Harlem River, and construction began to Putnam County and beyond. By February 1840 the railroad owned 140 horses and 6 locomotives: Minerva, Westchester, New York, Harlem, Yorkville, Brother Johnathan. Two years later the line had reached Williams Bridge, and in another two years, White Plains. It finally reached its northernmost point of Chatham in 1852.

The railroad will always hold a special place in New York’s history as the city’s first railroad. Although its importance diminished over the years, playing second fiddle to the line along the Hudson River and later experiencing partial abandonment, the line will have both riders and fans in its current incarnation as Metro-North’s Harlem Line for many years to come.

Introduction to "Summer Homes on the Harlem Railroad"

The ticket office at Tryon Row, 1839.

An early horsecar on the New York and Harlem Railroad. Initial service was powered by horse, and later provided all service south of 14th Street, where locomotives were not permitted

Map of the New York & Harlem’s street railway

At Harlem, the northernmost portion of the chartered line, the New York & Harlem would meet up with the New York & Albany Railroad, providing a much-needed year-round link to the state capital (sailing up the Hudson at that time was difficult if not impossible in the winter months). Despite groundbreakings at several points along the proposed line, the New York & Albany never succeeded in creating this link. Slowly the New York & Harlem was given permission to do what the New York & Albany could not – first into Westchester County in 1840, and was later granted full rights to build to Albany in 1846. At that time the The New York & Harlem purchased the what was left of the failed road, including the land it had secured to build its line, for $35,000. Although the New York & Harlem never reached Albany – entering into an agreement with the Boston & Albany Railroad, which it met in Chatham – this trackage became the bread-and-butter of what became the Harlem Division when it was leased to the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad in 1873.

“The benefit to the City of New York, possessing as it does, the best seaport in the Union, will be incalculable.”

“Gentlemen must judge for themselves, but of one thing we are certain: the road will be built, and the most gratifying results may be anticipated.”

-Co-founder and Vice President John Mason, at the ceremonial groundbreaking of the New York & Harlem Railroad on Murray Hill in 1832.

The remainder of the New York & Harlem, which ran south of Grand Central Depot, was leased in 1897 to the Metropolitan Street Railway Company. Today’s tidbits from the archive deal with just that subject – before the lease of the street railway portion of the New York & Harlem, a letter was sent to all shareholders regarding the decision at the most recent Board of Directors meeting. Shareholders were instructed to sign and return a paper stating that they approved of the decision. Below is a scan of an original copy of this mailing, which this particular shareholder never responded to.

The famous “Rut Milk” train passes through Mott Haven in the 1950s. The milk trains were eventually replaced by trucks. Photo by Victor Zollinsky.

Milk depots were established at many train depots, and local farmers could bring and sell their milk, which was then transported to the city. One of the Harlem’s most famous freights was the Rutland Milk train, which brought milk to New York City from Vermont – transferring from the Rutland Railroad to the Harlem in Chatham. Every day a swap would occur where a train full of milk changed hands at Chatham, exchanged for the previous day’s empties.

Today’s random tidbit from the archive is a letter from F.T. Hopkins to William Hooker. Hopkins was a milk dealer who operated the Harlem Railroad Milk Depot in New York City. The letter is addressed to Hooker at Wing’s Station – an earlier name for Wingdale.

Borden on the Harlem Line

New York Condensed Milk Company / Eagle Brand condensed milk promotional card.

Even if the milk transported by train to the city was considered “pure” and not of the “swill” variety, it did not last very long before spoilage in the days prior to refrigeration. Condensed milk stored in cans, however, could last for years without spoiling. Not only was condensed milk transported along the Harlem, it got its start here.

There are many ways to describe Gail Borden Jr.: a perpetual wanderer, deeply religious (anecdotal evidence suggests that he bought bibles for placement on the Harlem’s trains), eccentric inventor (he scared his friends by taking them on a ride straight into a river in a self-invented amphibious wagon – the “terraqueous machine”), an endlessly stubborn optimist that never gave up. All of those traits led him from his birthplace of Norwich, New York to Kentucky, Indiana, Mississippi, Texas, Connecticut, and ultimately back to New York and the Harlem Railroad to launch his most successful invention – condensed milk.

For some time Borden had been interested in preventing food from spoilage. One of his first food related inventions was a meat biscuit, made from rendered meat and flour or potato and baked into a cracker, which could be eaten as is, or crushed into boiling water to make soup. He also experimented with preserving and concentrating fruit to make juices, and making coffee extract which took up far less space than regular coffee. Despite winning prizes for the meat biscuit, none of those endeavors were commercial successes. After debts forced him to give up on the meat biscuit and sell some of his property to pay creditors, Borden wholeheartedly pursued his milk preservation idea in Connecticut – starting a factory in Wolcottville. He eventually ran out of money and that factory closed, later replaced by a different factory in Burrville. Unfortunately, the Financial Panic of 1857 marked the end of that venture as well.

The first successful condensed milk factory, Wassaic, New York

The original Borden factory today, now occupied by the Pawling Corporation, which manufactures architectural products.

A chance encounter on a train ride, however, brought Gail Borden and financer Jeremiah Milbank together, and Milbank found promise in Borden’s idea. With Milbank’s money, Borden founded the New York Condensed Milk Company in Wassaic, New York, right next the the tracks of the Harlem Railroad. Borden’s tenacious spirit had finally paid off this time around, as his product became a commercial success. Another factory was constructed along the Harlem in Brewster to keep up with demand – and condensed milk became a staple for members of the Union Army during the Civil War.

After Borden’s successes he moved back to Texas, but upon death was returned by train to New York. He forever remains next to the Harlem Line, buried in Woodlawn Cemetery with a large monument that bears the following quote:
“I tried and failed. I tried again and again and succeeded.”

Borden’s final resting place at Woodlawn Cemetery

Before selfies were cool – Lou Grogan snaps a reflection at the then-new White Plains station.
Title photo of Pawling also by Lou Grogan.

Lou is, however, most Known by railfans as the author of The Coming of the New York & Harlem Railroad, an immense and unprecedented compilation of Harlem Railroad history, published in 1989. The book was a labor of love in more ways than one. A ten year endeavor of research and writing, the book may never have come to fruition without the support of Lou’s wife Elizabeth, who lovingly laid out many of the book’s pages, and remained supportive through many long hours of work. To this day, the book remains the best compilation of history regarding the Harlem Railroad, detailing every station that is and was along the line, and the ultimate demise of the Upper Harlem. This website, and the research found within, owes much to the groundwork compiled by Lou.

I, however, will remember Lou as a kind man who invited me into his home with his wife, and shared his vast collection of Harlem Line material with me. I will fondly remember eating turkey and cheese sandwiches and drinking ginger ale with him while talking about the Harlem Line. Many historical photos on this website come from Lou’s collection, which he and his wife graciously shared with me.

Signal Department Gang at Pawling station, 1936. L-R: Sid Phillips, Tom Wright, Lou Frost, and “Mac” McLeod. From the collection of Lou Grogan.

Steaming through Pawling, 1947. From the collection of Lou Grogan.

As I have mentioned a few times, very shortly we will be revisiting all of the current Harlem Line stations – a redo of our Tuesday Tour series. I have already re-photographed all of the stations along the line, with the exception of five. Our new tour of the Harlem Line will be dedicated to Lou, who worked so hard to ensure that the long history of the Harlem – New York City’s oldest railroad – was always remembered. Thanks for everything, and as another friend of yours has already said online, “may you enjoy the great train ride in Heaven.”

In the northeast, Romanesque style train stations were mostly associated with the Boston and Albany Railroad, which designed most of their main line stations in the style (for example, Chatham, which was a joint Harlem Division station), and many by pioneer architect Henry Hobson Richardson. However, the New York Central did have a few – Richardson proteges Shepley, Rutan, and Coolidge designed the Dobbs Ferry, Irvington, and Tarrytown stations located on the Hudson Line. The railroad also hired Robert Henderson Robertson to design stations at Canandaigua (extant, but heavily modified), Schenectady (demolished), and most notably, 138th Street.

R.H. Robertson was born in Philadelphia in 1849, and graduated Rutgers College in 1869. He started his architecture career working in the office of Henry Sims in Philadelphia, later moving to New York and working in the office of George B. Post. By 1871 he established his own architecture firm in New York City, designing a wide array of buildings from libraries to churches, as well as banks, train stations and private homes. Over the years he worked in various styles, including Queen Anne and Victorian Gothic, but by 1880 became heavily influenced by Richardson’s Romanesque revival style. Robertson was, however, described as “[taking] up the style in his own way.” His prolific New York City career led him to design various buildings that are today designated landmarks, including the Lincoln Building at Union Square, and Fire Engine Company 55‘s firehouse in Little Italy.

    
138th Street Station shortly after construction. Original photos from the Andrew Dickson White Architectural Photograph Collection, Cornell University Library. Photo restoration work by HarlemLine.com

Constructed in 1886, Robertson’s design for 138th Street was a 2 story brick building with peak tile roof, at a cost of $65,000 (about $1.6 million today). Typical of the Richardsonian Romanesque revival style, the building featured various arches, squat columns, cylindrical towers, and rusticated stone. Adding to the character of the building was a large clock tower, 80 feet high, and catching the eyes of all who passed by. Originally the station was at grade level, with two tracks crossing 138th Street, however upgrades were soon needed.

With the railroad’s steadily-growing service, and new requirements set forth by the US Army in regards to clearance for ships around New York City, significant upgrades were made to the right of way in the south Bronx and northern Manhattan in the 1890s. Primary among the changes was a viaduct raising the tracks above 106th Street to 149th Street, a new bridge crossing the Harlem River, expanding the tracks from two to four across the river and allowing better clearance for ships passing below, and adjusting the track curvature in the Bronx. The 138th Street Station was unfortunately in the way of these plans, and dealing with the station became an additional part of the project. Then was, of course, a rosy time, with railroads at their height and what appeared to be a never ending stream of profits. New York Central brass gave the go-ahead to draw up plans for the nearly insurmountable task of moving the large station without harming its delicate brickwork and intricate terra-cotta designs.

 
The moving of the great station, images published by the Scientific American in 1894.

Diagram of the station after moving, with new platforms.

The railroad hired B. C. Miller, who was no stranger to moving the near impossible – having relocated the 5000 ton Brighton Beach Hotel a few years previously. Despite being lighter than the hotel, the station posed more difficulty as its weight was very unevenly distributed. The tower alone – 19 feet square and 80 feet high – was estimated at 500 tons, and the entire station about 1200 tons. Using a series of fourteen jack screws, nineteen men gradually turned them in unison, timed by the sound of a bell. With each turn the station very gradually moved, taking an entire week to be situated in its new location. Not everyone was impressed with the move, however. In an article discussing the work of Robertson, the author described the changes as “[having] been carried out with a quite ruthless disregard of or insensibility to the merits of the work, and have destroyed or mutilated the dependencies that were integral parts of the composition.” Likely the author refers to the new porches and walkways erected around the building, allowing passengers to access the newly elevated track platforms from the second story of the structure.

 
 

New York City’s staff photographer Percy Sperr captured these images of the station, circa 1935. From the collection of the New York Public Library.

By the late 1950s, the cash-strapped New York Central looked to sell many of its passenger stations, and 138th Street station was one of several on the Harlem Line to be put up for sale (most prominently, Mount Vernon was sold in 1959). By 1964 a buyer – Golden Eagle Inc – had materialized. A real estate development company run by John A. Dilliard, Golden Eagle found value in the 56,517 square feet of land attached to the sale, but not the station itself. (Dilliard attempted to buy land on both sides of 138th Street near the station, which later led to legal battles with the bankrupt Penn Central and the City of New York) New York Central’s employee magazine Headlight paints a rosy picture of the sale of the “historic landmark” in its June 1964 edition, calling the depot “the finest and most complete way station in the country” upon construction. The more realistic depiction, however, made the front page of the New York Times on Sunday, April 26, 1964: “Picturesque Depot to Be Razed in Bronx.” For reportedly $170,000 (approximately $1.3 million in today’s dollars) the New York Central parted with the old station, and it was torn down shortly thereafter.

 

Trains at 138th Street in 1958.

 
138th Street in photo and in paint – Alfred D Crimi painted this rendition of the station circa 1950.

 
Alfred C Loonam photographs of 138th Street, circa 1955. Photos from the Museum of the City of New York.

Whether anyone mourned the loss of this great station is unknown. Its destruction came right on the heels of the loss of the great Pennsylvania Station, though it was a year shy of the establishment of the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission. Though there is no doubt that had the Commission existed they would have bestowed this noteworthy station with a Landmark title, it is uncertain if anyone would have truly fought the railroad if it pressed for sale and demolition, as many did for Grand Central. Even with the loss of its grand depot, 138th Street remained a stop on the line, with a small replacement station constructed by the Central. Eventually all stations were to receive high-level platforms to accommodate the line’s new “Metropolitan” MU cars, and the station’s curvature and tight space deemed it not worthy of such an upgrade. The November 28, 1972 timetable is the last to list the 138th Street, and shortly after even the small replacement station was demolished. With a subsequent track realignment, little trace of a station ever being here remains. It seems that although 138th Street could survive one major landscape change, it couldn’t survive a second.

Other than among the biggest rail buffs, 138th Street station has been largely forgotten, with information about it hard to come by. Several name changes over the years no doubt adds to the confusion and enigma surrounding this place. Although the architect always knew it at 138th Street (it was this name that was designed in terra cotta on the station’s front), many (including the railroad) referred to the station in the 1800s and early 1900s by the surrounding neighborhood’s name, Mott Haven. The IRT established a subway station across the street which also went by the name Mott Haven, but a local businessman petitioned the subway in 1921 to change the station name due to confusion between it and the next stop of Mott Avenue (today’s 149th – Grand Concourse station). Following suit, the name Mott Haven fell out of favor for even the New York Central’s station, but the railroad was also known to simply call it The Bronx. After spending long hours searching all three names of this station (including examining rolls of microfilm for property records at the Bronx Business Center) and slowly gathering an array of tidbits, I was able to weave what seems to be the most complete history to date of this lost station. Although the station itself might be gone, there is still a story to be told – one of 138th Street’s current state and future.

In Bill Volkmer’s widely-forwarded slideshows of NH locomotives, you’ll find this shot at 138th Street

Over its 184-year history, the New York and Harlem Railroad has certainly seen stations come and go. Much of the railroad’s abandoned former right of way in Columbia County, for example, has reverted back to wilderness. However, it is hard to imagine any part of New York City proper reverting back to the wilds. In some ways, though, 138th Street did return to that state. After the great depot was knocked down in 1964, nothing else was ever constructed on the land south of 138th Street. Once the station itself was finally eliminated in 1973, and the underpass covered up, the slices of land next to the tracks on both sides of 138th sat dormant. Abandoned, to become slowly reclaimed by nature (and at some point reclaimed in property ownership by the City of New York). Around 2008, however, various individuals and groups including For A Better Bronx and More Gardens! noticed the land on the south side and worked to create a community garden there. By the winter of 2009, La Finca del Sur was founded on the site of the former station platform and exit, and the garbage and high weeds were gradually removed from the lot. In their stead came planting beds and trees. Largely led by Latina and Black women, the farm has plots open for members to grow their own plants, and occasionally holds farmers markets and events for the community. Members have the ability to further their knowledge through practical applications in the garden, as well as taking classes at the NY Botanical Garden in subjects such as soil testing, composting, and pruning.

You’ll find a wide and varied amount of things growing in La Finca: sunflowers for phytoremediation, plums, apples, pears, peaches, grapes, marigolds for attracting insects, roses, strawberries, onions, mint, garlic, cilantro, lavender, basil, tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, and more. Metro-North trains rumble by every few minutes, and the ground underfoot vibrates with the passage of a subway train below. Among the planting beds are various grates that lead directly down to the subway tracks, and the occasional message from the platform’s PA speakers can be just barely heard. The grates serve as an emergency egress from the subway, but are old and rusted, and now surrounded by protective orange fencing erected by the MTA.

While the loss of such a monument as 138th Street is quite heartbreaking, from the ashes has slowly risen this farm – something that the people of the South Bronx can be proud of. Many of the people I met at La Finca were unaware of the grand station that once stood there, but perhaps now that the history of this place is known, the legacy of 138th Street will live on.

  
 
  
 
   
  

Special thanks to Marilyn Ibach from the Prints and Photographs Division at the Library of Congress and Nancy Ortiz-Surun, Gloria Weiss, and Wilfred Gonzalez at La Finca del Sur for their contributions to this post and my research.

La Finca del Sur is always looking for donations and volunteers – if you can spare a hand, drop them a line at infosbufc@gmail.com.

A very happy 184th birthday to the New York & Harlem Railroad, New York City’s very first railroad, chartered on this day in 1831. Started as a humble street railroad using horses for motive power, it eventually grew to reach Westchester, Putnam, Dutchess, and Columbia counties, and is the origin of today’s Harlem Line.

We’ve posted many things about the history of the Harlem Railroad over the years, so if you’re interested in taking a walk down memory lane, be sure to check some of these old favorites out:

• The Streetcars of the New York & Harlem Railroad
• 180 Years of History – the Harlem Railroad
• Remembering the Upper Harlem Line, Part 1
• Remembering the Upper Harlem Line, Part 2
• Remembering the Upper Harlem Line, Part 3
• Postcards on the Harlem Line
• Timetables of the Harlem Line

Strangely enough, the railroad also played a part in the establishment of various cemeteries. As the city itself grew larger, not only did some former rural cemeteries get displaced, people with money wished to be interred in an attractive rural setting. Woodlawn Cemetery was established in 1863, and took in the remains of cemeteries displaced in the city proper, and grew to become a venerable place of final rest for thousands. Such growth was undoubtedly assisted by the nearby railroad, easily allowing loved ones to visit the graves of their friends and family. Further north along the Harlem Division, the Kensico Cemetery was also established as a beautiful, rural final resting place. Truly appealing to the wealthy of the city, Kensico offered a private railcar for rent for funerals which would transport people directly from Grand Central to the cemetery’s very own train station.

Though Woodlawn and Kensico may be the two most commonly known cemeteries that owe their growth to the Harlem Railroad, there is another slightly more unique cemetery that also falls into that category – the Hartsdale Pet Cemetery. Just like its brethren, the Hartsdale cemetery has seen gun salutes, bagpipers, and is the final resting place for thousands of friends – however the majority of them just happen to not be human. Buried within its grounds you’ll find the graves of war dogs, police dogs (including at least one MTAPD K9), a search and rescue dog that lost its life on September 11th, thousands of other cats and dogs, humans that opted for their cremains to be interred together with their beloved pets, and even a lion. It is also home to the War Dog Memorial, celebrating the animals that fought alongside their human handlers in the Great War.

Established in 1896, the Hartsdale Pet Cemetery (originally called the Hartsdale Canine Cemetery) was simply an apple orchard at summer home of New York City veterinarian Samuel Johnson. After a distraught patron’s animal passed, he offered a spot for the animal to be buried on his land. After a newspaper got wind of the story and wrote about it, calls came in from many more distraught pet owners, and Johnson established a three acre section of his orchard for further pets to be buried. The usual arrangement entailed a deceased pet being delivered to Johnson’s office in New York, and from there the animal would be fitted into a casket and taken to Grand Central, where they would be loaded onto a Harlem Division train to Hartsdale. As news of the cemetery spread far and wide, one canine was even shipped by rail from Kalamazoo, Michigan, to be laid to rest at Hartsdale. Though the cemetery has grown since then, it is remains an idyllic place for a furry loved one to be buried.

Recognizing the cemetery’s long history, it was recently placed on the National Register of Historic Places. Though it may not be as close to the railroad as Woodlawn or Kensico, today’s Harlem Line played an integral part of the Hartsdale Pet Cemetery’s history. It is, however, within walking distance of Hartsdale station, and worth a visit to anyone in the area.

For those interested, the cemetery will be holding its annual Tree Lighting Ceremony on Saturday, December 6th at 4 PM, along with a “four legged” food drive to help local animal shelters and rescue groups.