 |
Charles Hemstreet, 1900s |
Up in Buffalo, N.Y., Lake
Erie narrows like a funnel into the Niagara River. Even before the Erie Canal opened
in 1825 and through the nineteenth century, a shipbuilding industry flourished
on the American side of the river.
Charles Hemstreet’s father,
William, was a Buffalo ship carpenter who helped build some of the steamers
that plied Lake Erie carrying freight and passengers. William’s oldest son,
Felix, became a ship carpenter’s apprentice at the age of fourteen.
But Charles, born in 1866,
had greater aspirations. Although he advanced no farther in school than sixth
grade, Charles loved to read newspapers and books about history. Around 1885, he
went south to New York City to look for a job that would suit his
interests.
During these years, the
city was home to at least fifteen daily English language newspapers. Charles worked
as a police reporter at a time when the department was at its most corrupt. The
job required much hanging around headquarters on Mulberry Street. Charles
stayed a few years, then became night manager of the Associated Press, a
position he held for a decade.
 |
New York City Police Headquarters, 1890s when Theodore Roosevelt was Commissioner |
Everything seemed to come
his way, this foppish young man with a poet’s hair, dark and wavy, who liked to
assume dramatic poses.
An officer of the New York
Press Club, Charles often visited a shaky old building on Spruce Street, off
Newspaper Row near City Hall Park, to carouse with fellow members of the
notorious Blue Pencil Club.
 |
Blue Pencil Club members at play |
He’d bound up and down the
stairs with a bunch of mischievous, irreverent reporters, editors, writers,
cartoonists, and illustrators. They published a bawdy short-lived magazine and
ran all over town drinking and declaiming.
Charles’s wife, Marie
Meinell, daughter of a grumpy Civil War veteran from Oyster Bay, also joined the
Blue Pencil Club. Not only did Marie qualify as a published author (of insipid
poetry), but she was mischievous, too.
In 1893, quarantined in a
hospital with scarlet fever, Marie decided to escape by sliding down a rope to
the street. Traveling under the name “Edith Fish” because she thought she might
be sent to prison for running away, Marie raced off to Jersey City and
Philadelphia. Finally she made her way to the Adirondacks where Charles came to
comfort her and presumably did not catch scarlet fever.
Charles was just 34 when
he announced his retirement from journalism. According to a widely published
notice, he would now devote himself to writing books. His first one, Nooks &
Corners of Old New York, was published by Scribner’s in 1899, followed by The
Story of Manhattan (1901), When Old New York was Young (1902), and Literary
New York (1903).
But Charles couldn’t just
sit around and write books. One day he was called to the scene of an excavation
for the subway in lower Manhattan. Italian immigrant laborers had unearthed a
stone from a Revolutionary War fort. He told a Times reporter:
I understand that the contractor is
preparing to present the slab to the New-York Historical Society. I will do all
I can to prevent this. Once in the possession of the society it would be as
inaccessible to the general public as though it had been left in its
underground resting place.
He was correct. And how
delightful to be regarded as an expert on old New York, long the domain of
patricians with trailing pedigrees.
In 1906, Charles and Marie
sailed to Europe to collaborate with Jeannette Pomeroy on a scientific study of
the appearance of American women. Mrs. Pomeroy, an English woman descended from
Indian occultists—she said—was widely admired for her beauty advice and
business acumen. The New-York Tribune reported:
If Mrs. Pomeroy is right in her conclusions
that the women of America are growing less beautiful year by year, she will
invoke national, state and municipal governments to aid her in forcing women to
become beautiful whether they will or not.
The remedy for the dearth
of beautiful women, Charles said in a statement, “is to simply surround women
with delectable odors, dulcet sounds, palatable foods, beautiful sights, and
correct ideas.”
 |
Mrs. Jeannette Pomeroy |
I was sorry to learn that
Charles dealt in such sexist foolishness because he’s so likable otherwise.
Enmeshed in a lawsuit that
would result in the loss of her cosmetics empire, Mrs. Pomeroy faded from the
scene while Charles and Marie stuck around to research a book, Nooks and
Corners of Old London. Once back in the U.S., Charles accepted the position
of manager of Burrelle’s Press Clipping Bureau. He had found a new career.
An Ohioan named Frank
Burrelle established the bureau in New York City in 1888. It is said that he
came up with the idea after overhearing two businessmen discuss the need to
collect news stories about their own companies. Frank’s second wife, Nelle,
expanded the business and became its president in 1910 after Frank died on a
cruise ship in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico.
Nelle Burrelle deserves her
own novel. It suffices to say she was an adventuress. When Louis Chevrolet
invited her to race with him, they circled the 1-1/2 mile Morris Park Racetrack
in 53 seconds. Shortly before her own mysterious death, she flew around in a
Curtiss airplane above Mineola Field on Long Island.
 |
Nelle Burrelle, 1910 |
In 1911 Nelle fell ill at
her apartment in the Carlton Hotel on 44th Street and was attended
for several days by three physicians, including Dr. Jesse W. Amey whose
romantic advances she had spurned after her husband’s death. The physicians
listed acute nephritis as the cause of death but the coroner received an
anonymous tip that Nelle had been murdered. He performed an autopsy and ruled
her death to be of undetermined cause.
Nelle’s will disappeared,
of course. Then it reappeared, a torn, stained piece of paper that had been
slipped under the door of Dr. Amey’s apartment, he said. Charles Hemstreet got
wind of its existence and asked the surrogate to demand it from the doctor.
 |
Burrelle's advertisement, about 1915 |
The date and Nelle’s signature
were missing, rendering the will invalid. Unsurprisingly, given the shady
story, someone leaked its contents: 16 shares of Burrelle Clipping Bureau stock
to Charles Hemstreet, $2,000 to Marie Hemstreet, a few shares to various
employees and relatives, and the balance to Dr. Jesse W. Amey.
One year later, the same
surrogate approved a different will for probate. It split the estate between
Nelle’s two sisters. And that was that.
If Charles Hemstreet was left
out in the cold, he carried on at Burrelle’s and drew income from his books,
which continued to be popular with the exception of a novel, The Don Quixote
of America, the Story of an Idea, published in 1921.
The book stars John Eagle
of upstate New York, who dreams of building a new city in the western
wilderness and travels by train to Los Angeles. There, nothing goes his way. He
is beaten up and the butt of jokes. Upon his return home, however, he is
greeted with fanfare and hailed by his friends and family.
One critic wrote:
The jacket hints of an “underlying idea.” I
have spent weary nights over the home brew trying to excavate it. I leave it
for future literary archeologists to unearth.
Charles Hemstreet of
America, an idea for a story.
*Charles Hemstreet died in
1941 and Marie in 1943.
https://www.throughthehourglass.com/