There’s a
comet in the sky again this summer, which summons up thoughts of that superstar
of cosmic travelers, Halley’s Comet. When it last streaked past us, I wrote a
story about it for the Jan. 17, 1986, cover of Gusto. So climb into the time
machine, fasten your seat belt and get ready for a long, long ride. We’re going
back to Buffalo ’s
previous encounter with it in 1910.
HALLEY’S LAST VISIT
When Halley’s Comet paid its last call in 1910.
THE LAST TIME Buffalo got a glimpse of
Halley’s Comet – in 1910 – it was a bustling city full of confidence in its
role as a major lake port and railway center. “Buffalo Means Business,” The
Buffalo Evening News trumpeted from a banner in the upper left corner of the
front page of its four afternoon editions. Indeed, it was earthly business,
rather than heavenly happenings, that preoccupied our civic forebears as the celestial
visitor approached that spring.
Proof of the city’s pre-eminence was expected to be confirmed
in the 1910 census. Population was approaching 425,000, and The News exhorted
its readers to “let every man, woman and child belonging to Buffalo see that the census man gets his
name. We must beat Detroit
if it is merely by a few noses. Or even by a nose.”
An auspicious omen of Buffalo ’s
bright future that season was the merger of the city’s two rival business
groups, the Chamber of Commerce and the Manufacturers Club. To celebrate this
marriage of interests, they threw the biggest banquet the town had ever seen.
There would be 1,065 guests April 30 in the Convention Hall at Elmwood Avenue and Virginia Street and
the featured speaker would be none other than the president of the United States ,
William Howard Taft.
“The banquet tonight,” the Buffalo Morning Express noted that
day, “will be Buffalo ’s first step toward a
position of industrial importance second to no other city in the Union .”
It marked the first time a president had visited here since
President McKinley’s assassination nine years earlier at the Pan American
Exposition and the subsequent swearing-in of Theodore Roosevelt in the home of
prominent attorney Ansley Wilcox on Delaware
Avenue . The Express headlined it: “A Red Letter
Day.”
Hailed and applauded, Taft made stops at the University Club
for lunch, then at the Buffalo Club and the Gratwick Cancer Laboratory on High
Street before taking a brief auto tour of the town and attending the banquet.
Sharing the stage with him, along with dozens of business leaders, was an
enormous white buffalo which, a reporter noted, was a “veteran of the
successful industrial exposition.”
Taft was constantly on the move. Before May was over, he’d
already used up his annual travel allotment of $25,000 and told Congress he’d
pay his own way if it wouldn’t give him more. Upstaging him, however, was Teddy
Roosevelt, who generated headlines daily all spring with a triumphal tour of
the capitals of Europe .
Dominating the front pages along with Taft and Roosevelt were
a variety of other concerns – the eruption of Mount Etna, a civil war in Nicaragua,
a killer earthquake in Costa Rica, attacks on foreigners in China, the
expulsion of Jews from their homes in Czarist Russia, the excavation of the
Panama Canal, Interior Secretary Richard Ballinger’s feisty denials of
Congressional charges that he gave away Alaskan timber and mineral rights, the
cracking of a white-slavery ring in New York City and the lynching of Blacks in
the South.
When Buffalonians contemplated the skies in 1910, it wasn’t
so much to search for Halley’s Comet, but to admire the feats of pioneer
aviators, which grew more sensational every week. The end of April saw a French
aviator win $50,000 for flying from London to Manchester , England .
Not many days later, another Frenchman flew across the English
Channel . The Wright Brothers were so confident of their machines
that they took their 85-year-old father up in one. Then came American Glenn
Curtiss, who captured a $10,000 prize for flying from Albany
to New York City .
After that, there came a spate of offers to daredevils,
including $20,000 for a flight from New York
to Washington , D.C. ,
and $30,000 for a flight from St. Louis to New York . Wilbur Wright
speculated that there was no reason why transoceanic flight shouldn’t be
Continued on Page 16)
possible “with sufficient
gasoline capacity.” In June, another aviator, Charles K. Hamilton, proposed
that airplanes might even be used to drop bombs in wartime.
CLOSER TO HOME, our ancestors
were distracted by the perennial push-and-pull of state and local politics.
Gov. Hughes struggled mightily to get lawmakers in Albany to approve direct voting in state
primaries and finally wound up calling them back for an extra session in June.
When they weren’t debating that and the proposed
constitutional amendment on women’s suffrage, they found time to pass a law
restricting the number of saloons to one per 750 people (in Buffalo , the ratio was one per 250) and
cutting back the hours during which liquor could be sold. Instead of running
from 5 a.m. to 1 a.m., taverns would not be allowed to open until 6. Albany also set a speed
limit for automobiles – 30 mph in open country.
Here in Buffalo ,
where city government was comprised of two legislative bodies – councilmen and
aldermen – it was hard to get agreement over even such simple things as passing
an ordinance banning ladies’ hatpins more than three inches long or whether to
commend Mayor Louis P. Fuhrmann for declaring a half-day civic holiday May 9 to
celebrate the local opening of the Eastern League baseball season.
Needless to say, more complex issues were submerged in
endless wrangling. Charges and countercharges paralyzed action on such matters
as the extension of Elmwood Avenue from North Street to Virginia Street, the
choice of a design for the new Hutchinson High School, the designation of land
for a new downtown railway terminal commeasurate with the New York City’s
newly-completed Pennsylvania Station (complicated by a plot by rail interests
to grab all the choice waterfront property from Porter Avenue south) and a list
of East Side improvements championed by The News, including a convention hall
on the Broadway Arsenal site, a technical high school and a contagious disease
hospital.
Meanwhile, Canisius College was launching a drive for $100,000 to start
construction of its new campus at Main and Jefferson
and the combined Chamber of Commerce and Manufacturers Club canvassed for
another $100,000 to promote industrial development. Both were successful.
All this took a back seat, however, to the investigation of
bribery and construction defects in another major project – the
not-yet-finished water pumping station – and the barrage of criticism directed
at the city’s embattled public works commissioner, Col. Francis G. Ward.
Machinery suppliers testified to paying $5,000 in bribes in
1903 to secure contracts, then being asked for $4,000 more. There was a
questionable junket to Pittsburgh .
There were cost overruns. “Pay! Pay! Pay!” the Morning Express headlined a
story which revealed that the pumping station would go more than $1 million
over budget. “Leaks Like a Sieve,” the paper bannered a subsequent piece on the
condition of the tunnel from the new water intake to the pumping plant.
DESPITE ALL THIS, Buffalo was booming,
especially its real estate market. A developer on Manchester Place reported that the
Elmwood District was almost entirely built up. Suburban farmland was at a
premium. Advertisements touted construction of “Delawanda,” a huge tract
between Kenmore and the City of Tonawanda bounded by Delaware Avenue on the
west and Niagara Falls Boulevard on the east.
Though clergymen protested the granting of permits for new
nickelodeons, complaining that the darkened unsupervised premises were
demoralizing to children, the moviehouse already was a popular entertainment,
although the big-name feature film had not yet arrived. Movies also were part
of the attraction at the city’s vaudeville houses, the Lafayette , the Garden, the Academy, the Lyric
and Shea’s.
Dramatic presentations at the Star, the city’s best theater,
generally consisted of touring Broadway productions. Lillian Russell visited
the Star in May, as did Billie Burke in W. S. Maugham’s farce, “Mrs. Dot.” At
the Teck, where a full season of summer stock was starting, the debut offering
featured a show complete with the costumes used on Broadway.
Meanwhile, at the Albright
Art Gallery ,
a major exhibition of American artists was underway. Mid-May saw the city’s
fifth Music Festival, which prompted the Morning Express to reflect: “When the
first music festival was held 25 years ago, there was talk of Buffalo some day having a beautiful music
hall and a permanent orchestra …”
Sports were a constant diversion, especially baseball. The Bisons,
however, lost their momentum early and sank to the .500 mark by Memorial Day.
Soon thereafter, the team captain was released outright. Prizefighting
wrestlers made regular visits to the Broadway Arsenal. And hardly a day went by
without a report from the training camps of heavyweight boxing contenders
Jeffries and Johnson.
Prosperous Buffalonians might indulge in an Edison
phonograph ($12.50 to $200, half the price of a piano) and the latest Caruso
record ($2), a new porcelain refrigerator with 115-pound ice capacity ($38), a
factory rebuilt Pierce Arrow motorcar (originally $5,300, now at $3,000) or
perhaps a Pierce Arrow motorcycle (one-cylinder model, $250; four-cylinder
model, $350). For motorists of more modest means, there was the E. R. Thomas
Motor Co. turning out Thomas Flyers at 1200 Niagara St .
Although there were already 100,000 automobiles in New York State , the citizenry hadn’t quite come
to terms with them. Hardly a day went by without the report of a serious
accident, either by way of a driver losing control or a heedless pedestrian
stepping out in front of a speeding car, which often kept right on going.
Nor were automobiles the only hazard to life and limb.
Railway mishaps killed and maimed rail employees and trespassers alike. Runaway
horses were not unusual. Bare electrical wires claimed at least one victim a
week in Western New York . There were numerous
fights, stabbings and shootings stemming from drunken arguments in the city’s
many taverns. And suicide was common, often brought on by poverty or poor
health. Four folks went over Niagara
Falls during Memorial Day week in 1910.
Should a citizen of 1910 escape accident and despair, there
was always the possibility of infectious disease. Tuberculosis had become such
a concern that doctors advised against casual kissing and the city imposed a
$25 fine on anyone caught spitting in the street. An outdoor camp for
consumptives was established on upper Main
Street near the city line. Quarantines were
quickly imposed whenever a case of scarlet fever, smallpox or diphtheria turned
up. Typhoid, which was epidemic in all major American cities during the
previous 15 years, was supposed to be alleviated by the new water pumping
system.
The greatest concern for health and hygiene was focused on
the ethnic communities. It was very much a city of immigrants. In addition to
the six daily English-language newspapers, there were three German dailies and
two Polish dailies.
The spring of 1910 saw bitter fights erupt between the city’s
newest arrivals, the Poles and the Italians. The Italians, who dominated the
construction unions, were on strike, holding out for a pay increase from $1.50
to $1.75 a day. Polish laborers, brought in as strike-breakers, often got a
hostile reception, like the 15 who were driven off the site of the new School 1
annex on Seventh Street
by a group of angry Italians and their wives, armed with clubs and baseball
bats.
OF ALL BUFFALONIANS, the
Italians seemed to have the greatest fascination with Halley’s Comet. The Morning
Express noted on May 9 that “Vito Christiano and a delegation walked from Dante Place to
Washington and Broadway to have a look.” They sat on the steps of the library
while Christiano located Venus through opera glasses, then a police officer
came along and informed them that they couldn’t see the comet from that
location. “You have to go out on the lake or into the country to see it,” the
group was told.
Official Buffalo
looked upon the impending arrival of Halley’s Comet with tolerant amusement. A column
entitled “Oatmeal and Mackerel,” appended to the Morning Express editorials,
scoffed April 29: “Many a man who gets up at 3 a.m. to see the comet hates to
roll out of bed at 8 to look for a job.” The same scribe reported May 1:
“Halley’s Comet isn’t such a much after all. Even the astronomers are
disappointed in the old thing.”
The papers began carrying accounts of sightings on the
previous visit in 1835 (unfortunately, none of them by Buffalonians), which
noted that the comet came in a rain of stars with a long tail that stretched
halfway across the sky. The 1910 version did not promise to be nearly as
spectacular.
Nevertheless, local comet spotters located it. On May 5, the
Morning Express reported: “Those who were up yesterday morning between 3:30 and
4 o’clock had a good look at Halley’s Comet. The heavenly visitor was observed
just a little north of Venus and its tail could be plainly discerned. Patrolman
Stephen Southall, detailed at Station No. 12, was among those who observed the
comet. Southall told his brother officers and the entire platoon saw the comet.
Many railroad engines in that section of the city were blown, calling attention
to the phenomenon.”
Comet-gazing also became something of a police problem. The
Express wrote May 8: “‘There ought to be some way to identify people who prowl
the streets before daylight looking for Halley’s Comet,’ remarked Patrolman
Edward O’Grady at Police Station No. 3 yesterday. ‘How’s an officer to know
that they are looking for the comet or an open back window? They ought to be
made to take out a license and carry a lantern.’”
O’Grady went on to tell of a pair of young men he encountered
at 4 a.m. climbing up the façade of Shea’s theater on Court Street and prowling
about the McKinley Monument hoping to get a peek at the comet.
The passing of England’s King Edward VII May 7 lent a bit of
credence to the superstition that the comet signals the death of kings, but a
local amateur astronomer tried to put perspective on it a week later, writing:
“Sensible people are all agreed that the visit of the comet should be treated
as a sort of interesting joke.” He did, however, cite the possibility that the
comet’s tail, which was supposed to brush the Earth’s atmosphere, might create
a permanent ring around our planet, like the rings of Saturn.
THE TAIL WAS TO SWEEP PAST on
May 18. By May 16, the comet was bigger front page news than Teddy Roosevelt.
The News noted, however, that “they have been treating the visitor more
cordially in some other places than here – probably because Buffalo ’s lake-bred clouds have rendered
nearly hopeless the watch for it before dawn.”
On the fateful day, the Morning Express headlined: “The
Comet! Hold Fast!” The subsequent story noted, however, that it probably
wouldn’t be visible here that night, due to poor weather. In other places,
though, there was high frenzy.
In Haiti ,
witch doctors sold comet pills to frightened natives. Fortune tellers had a
field day. One New York City
theater manager promised patrons he would pump pure oxy-
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gen into the hall to offset
allegedly poisonous gases in the comet’s tail and have medical attendants on
duty. Taverns held comet parties serving comet cocktails – “six of which are
guaranteed to make a blind man see the comet.” Sly saloonkeepers announced that
the comet’s poisonous cyanogen gas was soluble in whiskey.
There was a heavy demand for telescopes. “A number of Buffalo folks have rigged
up telescopes in their back yards to the envy of the neighborhood,” it was reported.
“And the first comet dance was held in Buffalo
last night at the reception to the senior class of the Lafayette High School
at the school on Lafayette Avenue .
All the lights were turned out and the young men and women, chaperoned by their
teachers and mothers, danced by the light of the moon and the comet. It was a
huge success.”
In Mount
Morris , meanwhile, the
Italian community reacted to the comet’s onset with terror. Some stayed up all
night, fearing for their lives. Workers in the nearby salt mines pleaded to be
allowed to spend the night 1,500 feet below the surface to escape the cyanogen
gas. During the day, a rain of deep indigo bubbles fell on the community, some
as big as water pails, it was reported in The News. Residents blamed them on the
comet.
After all the excitement, the aftermath on May 19 was
decidedly sheepish. “Buffalo
slipped through comet night as methodically as any other night,” the Morning
Express reported. “David Cuthbertson of the Weather Bureau said last night that
a great many of the inhabitants did not expect so uneventful an occurrence. In
anticipation of a catastrophe, they had kept the telephones of the Weather
Bureau busy for the last two days.
“Mr. Cuthbertson remained in the office of the Weather Bureau
on the top of the Prudential
Building until 1 o’clock
this morning. With him was the office force, Principal P. Frederick Piper of
the Central High School and a few visitors.”
Cuthbertson spotted the comet between a rift in the clouds at
7:45 p.m. It was pale yellow and it remained in view for three minutes. At 9
p.m., he noted a faint aurora over the northern sky which had a wavy motion. At
times, it was quite brilliant. At 9:30, it showed vertical streamers of light.
At 10:20, it turned a rosy color for a few minutes. By midnight, it was gone.
The most interesting spectacle, a reporter observed, “was the reflection of the
moonlight along the dark waters of the lake.”
When the phone rang at 11 p.m., Cuthbertson asked the caller:
“Have you said your prayers?” Getting the affirmative, he replied, “Well, then
you may go to bed.”
“Half the town seems to be afraid of this comet,” he remarked
as he hung up the receiver.
The Morning Express editorialist noted: “Passing through the
tail of the comet was no more trying than passing through the tales of the
comet which we have been undergoing.”
BUT THE COMET CRAZE wasn’t
over yet. On May 19, scientists were baffled by an unexpected trick of its
tail, which appeared in the eastern sky at dawn instead of the western sky at
sunset. “The Comet’s Tail Is Gay Old Joker,” The News headlined. “Somewhere in
Cosmic Space It Is Wandering About to the Great Confusion of the Calculations
of Astronomers. Sh! It May Be Lost Altogether.”
Buffalonians, however, saw little of this. Except for a brief
period the evening of May 21, the sky continued to be cloud-covered through the
weekend. There was hope of clearing for the May 23 eclipse of the moon. Despite
more heavy rain clouds, the eclipse was seen, but no comet. The rain did nothing
to discourage other outdoor activities that night, however.
Crowds estimated at 10,000 turned out for opening night of
the Barnum and Bailey Circus on the old Driving Park
grounds on East Ferry Street .
Another 10,000 showed up for the Elk Street Carnival, sponsored by businessmen
on the street between Chicago and Katharine streets, who celebrated the opening
of the new Michigan Avenue railroad bridge with “illumination surpassing
anything Buffalo has seen” – more than 6,000 electric lights.
“Very disappointing is the tail of Halley’s Comet, thinks
Weather Forecaster Cuthbertson,” The News noted May 27. “He said this morning
that last night he peered at it from his home with a spy glass and while it had
a good bright head, its tail was a farcical hoax. ‘This comet does not compare
with Donati’s Comet of the late ‘50s,’ he said.”
With Memorial Day weekend ahead, Buffalonians turned to other
concerns. Crowds gathered on the dock to take the ship Americana to Crystal Beach. Throngs crowded
the new Carnival Court
amusement park at Main and Delavan.
Announcement was made that the operators of the ferry to Fort Erie would
refurbish the Fort Erie
Beach resort in time for
July 4. The New Academy Theater advertised “10 Vaudeville Comets – something to
look at all the time.” Rail excursions brought 25,000 to the city, despite the
cold and rainy weather.
During a break in the skies May 28, the comet put in one last
appearance. The Express reported the following morning that it was visible for
several hours: “Even in the haze and smoke that hangs over downtown streets,
anyone who knew just where to look for the comet could have found it last
night.”
As the clouds returned and the comet disappeared from the
headlines, Weatherman Cuthbertson had the last word on it June 1. Noting to a
reporter that the city had just experienced its coldest month of May in 40
years, he went on to add: “You might also say that the comet has had nothing to
do with it.”