THE SOCIAL HISTORY OF FLATBUSH


by Gertrude Lefferts Vanderbilt

1887


VILLAGE ROADS


    Some thirty years there were two or three miles of country road between 
Flatbush and Brooklyn, with farms, meadows and woodland upon the roadside. 
Through all these years, however, Brooklyn has been throwing out vigourous 
branches in all directions, like the spreading boughs of trees that have 
rapid growth, and at last it has reached our very borders. Unlike the budding 
of tree and shrub, however, this mingling of urban and suburban presents an 
unsightly growth. The sunken city lot, with its encampment of shanties, its 
hummocks of refuse, its open, treeless commons, the resort of goats and 
geese, its rocks flaunting placards for advertising quacks and speculators-- 
all these are the ugly pioneers of the advancing city.

    On one side of the village these have been held in abeyance by the 
intervening green slopes and shrubbery of Prospect Park and their protecting 
barrier of hickory, oak and elm trees.

    The distance between Flatbush and Brooklyn was rendered more noticeable 
by the limited means of intercourse in public conveyance between the two 
places. Most of the village residents kept their own carriages and horses. 
The old-fashioned gig, the red farm-wagon, the family barouche, and the 
time-honored stage-coach, each held undisturbed possession of the dusty 
turnpike. The old stage-coach, pleasantly associated with roads winding 
between green hills and shady woods, was the only means of public conveyance 
within the limits of Kings County.

    Until the year 1838 or '39 there were two regular stage-coach lines 
running between Flatbush and Brooklyn. The oldest inhabitant well remembers 
SMITH BIRDSALL, the proprietor of one line, leaving his house, which stood on 
what is now the corner of Flatbush and Vernon Avenues, at eight o'clock in 
the morning, and returning about four in the afternoon.

    A loud blast from a horn announced the coming of the coach. We can 
readily recall the picture, which now we only see in the most secluded 
country towns, of the stopping of the stage coach, the door help open by 
friends to "speed the parting guest." The last words are spoken as the 
passenger leans over the half door; the driver shouts "All ready!" and mounts 
his high seat; there is the waving of the handkerchiefs, and the journey is 
begun; the children are frolicking in the gateway to enjoy the excitement of 
the prancing horses, the cracking of the long whip-lash, and the prolonged 
blast of the driver's horn.

    Soon after this stage had gone its way toward the distant city, but 
scarcely before the whirl of dust had altogether subsided, another 
opportunity was afforded the traveler to reach town that morning.

    The mail-stage came in at nine o'clock from Fort Hamilton. This was more 
pretentious,  if not more comfortable, than the rest. It was drawn by four 
horses, and owned by COLONEL CHURCH, of New Utrecht. With a still louder 
blast upon a bugle, its arrival was announced as it turned the corner by the 
church from the post road to New Utrecht, and drew up before the little inn 
of the WIDOW SCHOONMAKER, opposite Erasmus Hall.

    The mail-bag, not a very bulky one in those days, was taken over to the 
post office, nearly opposite the Dutch church, and assorted by Mr MICHAEL 
SCHOONMAKER, and then it was flung back to the driver, and deposited under 
the boot at the foot of the driver's high seat.

    There was a prolonged snapping of the long whip-lash over the heads of 
the leaders, the stage rocked to and fro as the horses pranced hither and 
thither in the long, loose traces, and finally started off gayly under the 
inspiring flourish of a fresh blast and a final snap of the driver's whip.

    Then the village sunk into quiet, and the lookers-on proceeded to their 
ordinary work for the day. If any one through drowsiness, or for any other 
cause, missed this last nine-o'clock stage, the unfortunate individual must 
wait over until the next day, for there was no other opportunity to reach 
Brooklyn by public conveyance for the next 24 hours.

    At four o'clock in the afternoon the first stage returned, and at five 
the mail coach. Then the same bustle was repeated; the friends who were 
expected from the city to visit in the country were looked for by these 
returning coaches, and the members of the family who had been to New York or 
Brooklyn for the day returned home, tired and hungry, and were met at the 
gate by the children who had been stationed there to await and announce the 
approach of the stage-coach. Father had brought, perhaps, the weekly paper at 
least; he had the latest news; and mother had been shopping in Maiden Lane or 
William Street.

    Until the year 1842 or '43 these stages were the only modes of public 
conveyance. They then gave place to an omnibus line.

    These omnibuses ran every hour, and as to convenience, in this respect 
they were certainly an improvement upon the stage coaches.

    Flatbush Avenue was opened from Fulton Avenue, Brooklyn, to the entrance 
of the village in 1856. At first the cars ran to the city limits, and were 
there met by the omnibus, but when the whole line of railroad was completed, 
the old omnibus line passed into disuse.

    It was a strange sight for us to see the cars from the city, associated 
as they then were with shops and city life, passing to and fro upon the 
country turnpike, to catch a glimpse of them through the shrubbery, and to 
hear the unmusical tinkling of the bells upon the car-horses amid suburban sounds.


    Before the railway tracks somewhat incumbered the country turnpike, the 
old road to Flatbush was a favorite summer drive for the citizens of Brooklyn 
and New York. As there were then no city parks for carriage-driving, and the 
country had not been so widely opened up for extended travel, the pleasant 
rural aspect of the village made it an attraction toward which the large 
majority of the people who lived down town in New York turned for an 
excursion on a summer afternoon. The shore road along the Narrows could be 
included, making a long and pleasant drive in the country suburbs.

    The roads and sidewalks in this town have always been kept in order. Dr 
STRONG speaks of a time when there were low stone fences along the main 
street "surmounted by primrose hedges." These have all passed out of the 
memory of even the oldest inhabitant. About 1840 the sidewalks were separated 
from the carriage road by a slight fence made of posts joined either by 
chains or by a top rail.

    At this time every farmer owned several cows, which were sometimes 
allowed to graze on the roadside, or loitered there on their way home from 
their pasture fields. The cow-bell, tinkling on the neck of the leader, was a 
rural sound which was always heard at sunset in summer. These railings 
between the sidewalk and the carriage road served to keep the cows from 
annoying pedestrians, and were really a safeguard for children. They also 
gave a finished appearance to the sidewalk, as they were neatly painted and 
generally kept in good repair.

THE TOLL GATE
    When the road to Brooklyn was a turnpike, the care of the road was paid 
for from the money collected at the toll gate. This, in or about 1842, stood 
near where Flatbush Avenue forms the terminus of Hanson Place, or between 
Hanson Place and Lafayette Avenue. Afterward it was removed to what is now 
called Atlantic Street, somewhat easterly of the present intersection of 
Atlantic Avenue and Flatbush Avenue. Next it was placed near the Battle Pass, 
south of the Valley Grove Hotel, on the old road. After this is was placed 
opposite the WILLINK property. Finally, it was removed within the limits of 
the village, and at present stands on the avenue between Fenimore and 
Winthrop Streets.


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