Memoirs continues: My father bought me a saddle horse in the summer of 1889. He arrived unbroken from the far West, a beautiful, bright bay single footer whom I named Dandy. I had the time of my life breaking him, which I finally did so completely that he became the gentlest, most intelligent horse one could imagine. He would bow his head up and down for "yes," and he would shake it for "no," he would kneel down when I mounted and stand unhitched when I threw the reins over his head on dismounting. I dearly loved that horse and I'm sure he loved me too. I took care of him myself from the time I led him from his stall in the morning until I stalled him at night. He was curried, brushed and braided until he looked like a circus horse. He died of a broken heart when I sold him, which I had to do when we moved to New York three years later. Ed Frost fell in love with one of the Canajoharie girls named Maude Vosburgh, but Ed had a rival in another young man who made life miserable for him. Raymond Lipe also met and loved this most attractive girl, and soon there developed a great rivalry between these two for her affections, but finally Raymond won her hand and married her. About this time I met my fate in a beautiful girl from Fort Plain named Lucia B. Gregory. I used to ride my horse to that village frequently and call on her as often as I dared. About this time a camping party was organized by the Dunn boys, and my brother David and I were invited to join. A beautiful lake near Cooperstown, New York, called Otsego was selected for the camp, which was a sizeable house on the shore of that beautiful body of water, and we spent two wonderful weeks at this camp and enjoyed a glorious time, and incidentally I became engaged to Miss Gregory. On this camping party were Miss May Wild, Miss Helen Van Dyke, Miss Nellie Dunn, Miss Jessie Cook, Miss Sadie Williams, Miss Della Norris, Miss Bessie Rand, and Mrs. Mame Wood (was) chaperoning, David and Andy Dunn, Ed Stickel, Dr. Lancey Gregory, Elias H. Sisson, William F. Norris, Charles Sisson, my brother, David Zieley, and myself. Lucia Gregory was not only a lovely, sweet girl, but she was a very practical girl as well, and she used to talk to me about the importance of making a place for myself in life. She wanted me to get to work and she made me see things differently from the way I had been drifting, that life wasn't all pleasure and enjoyment but was a very serious affair, and I should not be wasting valuable time having a good time, but rather be up and doing, finding a place for myself somewhere. The result of her advice was that I became ambitious to get away from home and make good at some occupation. I often have thought that Lucia's advice not only changed my whole life, but it completely altered our whole family's; and here, too, in the first place I decided that Canajoharie was too small a place to begin my career, too limited in its opportunities, and I broached this subject at home much to the discomfort of my father and mother who loved their home, the town and the Mohawk Valley. My parents strongly opposed my leaving my home and trying my luck in New York, but I was determined to go, of course influenced by my love for Lucia and never giving thought to the feelings of my own dear ones at home, nor to the possible cares and troubles I was wishing on myself, which certainly came with a vengeance, nor to the happiness I was leaving behind. Just at this time there arrived in Canajoharie the Williams family. Mr. Russ Williams was Division Superintendent of the West Shore Railroad, and he brought with him his wife and daughter Luella. They soon became acquainted with the Canajoharie crowd, and Luella became friendly with the girls in the town. When they left in the autumn of the year 1889, they invited me to visit them in New York. So in November of that year I left Canajoharie for New York. I visited the Williams in a boarding house where they lived at 141 West 43rd Street. After a weeks stay in New York, which I spent sight-seeing, I decided to ask Mr. Williams if he could help me get a position where I could learn about business. Mr. Williams gave me a letter to the West Shore Railroad Freight Agent at Pier 5, N. R., New York. I presented my letter the next day to the Cashier of the pier, a Mr. Morgan, who was a rough-diamond type of man, but who at the time I met him struck me as most unprepossessing, a tough customer. He swore at me and asked me what in H--- I came to him for. When he read the letter that Mr. Williams had written, who was the Superintendent of the Company and his big boss, he spoke softer to me and said, "I'll see if I can find some work for you. What can you do?" To make a long story short, he put me to work looking up lost freight on the pier, climbing over barrels of oil and bales of cotton and bags of flour and cement, and when I finished the day's work I wasn't fit to be seen, and it was not very long before my clothes (had) worn out, my shoes were run down at heel, and I looked like a tramp. I was paid the huge sum of $25.00 per month. I arranged with the boarding house mistress for my board and lodging at twenty dollars per month, which left me with five dollars a month for all my other expenses. I was soon heartily sick of my job, but pride and letters from Lucia. my sweetheart, kept me at it, and although my parents sent me appeals to return home I stuck it out and refused any financial aid from them. There were two other boys living in the boarding house at this time, both of whom followed me there when they learned I was staying in New York. One was Fred Wetterrau, and the other was Sam McCabe. Fred Wetterau was working as a stenographer, and Sam got a job with the West Shore Railroad over in Weehawken (NJ). We three boys were all in the same hole, all working for small wages and paying most of it to the landlady. We used to get jobs at night peddling show bills for tickets, and thus we saw most of the big shows which were then the rage. At the Casino, Lillian Russell was starring in "The Brigands" and later in "The Grand Duchess," and we sat in the peanut gallery and heard her sing that wonderful song "Dear Heart" and were thrilled almost to death. In her company I remember were Fanny Rice, Edwin Stevens, Jefferson DeAngles and Fred Solomon, and then we also heard "Erminie" with Francis Wilson and Pauline Hall. Across the street, a little farther up Broadway, was the old Broadway Theatre, and at that time De Wolffe Hopper and Della Fox were playing in an operetta called "Wang." Farther down Broadway, between 30th and 32nd Street, on the west side of Broadway, was the Bijou Theatre. At this time Charles and Hoyt, Russell's comedians were playing in "The Brass Monkey," and there were other farces such as "The Milk White Flag" that were screamingly funny. Farther down the street stood Palmer's Theatre, afterwards Wallack's, and still farther down Broadway was the Fifth Avenue Theatre, and below that the Madison Square Theatre where Hazel Kirk was playing. On 23rd Street, west of Sixth Avenue, just beyond Koster and Beal's celebrated Music Hall was Proctor's 23rd Street Theatre. At this time they were playing "Shenandoah," a popular hit with Olive May in the lead. Eden Musea was near on the corner of Twenty-Third Street and Sixth Avenue. On Fourteenth Street Neil Burgess was playing in the Union Square Theatre, "The Country Fair." In the old Academy of Music farther east on Fourteenth Street, Denman Thompson was playing in "The Old Homestead." Below Fourteenth Street was the Star Theatre where Lester Wallack was playing in "Rosedale." Farther down Broadway was the old Metropolitan Hotel and Niblo's Garden where "The Black Crook" was holding forth. On Fourth Avenue, around the corner from Twenty-Third Street, was the Lyceum Theatre, where they were playing "After the Ball," with the celebrated cast including Herbert Kellsy, Effie Shannon, Florence May, Fritz Williams, and the leading lady, Georgie Cavan, a most beautiful and talented actress. Near the corner of Thirtieth Street was Daly's Theatre where Ada Rehan, Mrs. John Drew Sr., John Drew, Kitty Cheatham, and another beautiful actress who afterwards became Mrs. George Gould, were playing Shakespearean plays, and I witnessed this company's rendition of "The Taming of the Shrew." At this period I also saw Edwin Booth and Madjeska, and also Joseph Jefferson and his celebrated company in "The Rivals." I lived in New York at 141 West 43rd Street from November 1889, to April 1890. West 43rd Street at this period was entirely residential, and on the corner of Broadway was the old Oyster Bay Restaurant, where one could go and get a wonderful oyster stew served in a bowl with shredded cabbage salad for twenty-five cents. Where the Hotel Astor now stands at that time stood a wagon factory. It seems to me there was very little of interest above Forty-Second Street. All the theatres and important business places were below. On the corner of Forty-Second Street and Broadway stood the old St. Cloud Hotel. On the southeast corner of Thirty-Ninth Street was a new hotel called the Normandie, operated by Earl, and a fine up to date place it was too. Down below on the opposite side of Broadway, between Thirty-Sixth and Thirty-Seventh Street was another fine hotel called the Marlborough. I remember that somewhere in the block was a store where interesting exhibits were shown in the show window. This was a "germ killer," and there were vivid cards showing the deadly germs, and there were glass tanks and bottles showing the dead germs after being fed on the "germ killer." Just below on the corner of Thirty-fourth Street and Sixth Avenue stood a beautiful old church, and diagonally across the square on the corner of Sixth Avenue was Trainor's Restaurant, a famous eating house for both food and patrons. The old "Tenderloin" began here and ran down Sixth Avenue to Fourteenth Street, along its whole length were sporting places, gambling dives, and houses of ill fame, either directly on Sixth Avenue or on the intersecting streets. Another celebrated restaurant with a bad reputation was Clark's on Sixth Avenue near Thirteenth Street, and just below was the most disreputable place of all, the Haymarket, where the sporting women and loose-moral men used to dance. Now-a-days this place would be considered very tame, cheap, and gaudy as compared to the fashionable white-collar night clubs by the score, in vogue, where much worse goings on take place nightly without causing a ripple or comment by the high-moral societies, but at that period the Haymarket was thought to be next to Hell, the very worst place ever. While I enjoyed seeing the sights of New York and taking in the plays, I thoroughly hated my work. I had to get to the pier at 7 A.M. and work until 6 P.M., and my clothes were wearing out and I had no money to buy new ones; and when the spring arrived I became homesick for the country. I wanted to see my mother who continually wrote that while she respected my determination to support myself and admired my sticking to this resolution, yet she thought I would be better off at home and asked me to give up and return. One Saturday in early April as I was being paid my monthly Twenty-Five Dollars, I was informed I was not longer needed. This information came to me with a big sense of relief. I made up my mind to return home forthwith; but another letter from Lucia telling me how proud she was of me and how much she was expecting of me, made me hesitate. I longed to go back. I wanted to see her, but I didn't want her to think I was a quitter. At this time my brother David was with my father in the store in Canajoharie helping him in the business. He occasionally came to New York on a visit, and just at this time he arrived. He asked me to dine at the Normandie, and, oh, what a dinner we had. He told me I looked like a tramp and asked me what I was doing. I told him I had lost my job, and he then gave me Twenty-Five Dollars, which was the first money I had taken from home. I straightway spent this money buying new clothes and shoes, and making myself look presentable. I learned from the Williams family the cause of my discharge from the freight department of the West Shore Railroad. Mr. Williams had lost his position with the company as General Superintendent, and all the men he had put into positions were given their blue tickets along with his. My first thought was to return home, but I decided to try to get another position before giving up for good. Continued on page six...