The Epic of New York City (6 page)

Van Twiller's indifference to the public welfare irritated the intelligent men of the colony. Bogardus, a bold minister, wrote him
several letters on the subject. This resulted in a feud between the governor and the pastor. Once the dominie called Van Twiller a “child of the devil” to his face and declared that if he did not behave he would give him “such a shake from the pulpit” the next Sunday as would make him tremble like a bowl of jelly.

After the governor had lost the respect of all the colonists and his weaknesses had been reported to company headquarters in Holland, he was dismissed from office. That was in the fall of 1637. Despite his disgrace, tippling potbellied Van Twiller didn't flee to the homeland but remained to enjoy the earthly rewards he had piled up for himself.

One spring day in the following year a Dutch man-of-war anchored in the East River roadstead under the guns of Fort Amsterdam and lowered a boat. Into the boat climbed a fussy little man not quite forty years old. He was rowed to a small floating dock at Pearl Street, where he scrambled ashore. Local leaders had gathered to welcome their new director general, Willem Kieft, but they gave him a restrained greeting because of the soiled reputation that had preceded his arrival. Rumor had it that Kieft was venal.

Vain and ferocious, Kieft began riding roughshod over everyone, winning the nickname Willem the Testy. He was appalled at how Van Twiller had let things run down. Kieft wrote to Holland:

Because of harsh commercial and maritime regulations imposed by various colonies, smuggling was rife. Cargo-laden sloops sneaked from New Amsterdam to Plymouth to Virginia. Negro slaves bootlegged furs for tobacco. Company directors complained that “several persons” kept the best furs for themselves and sold inferior pelts for shipment to Holland. In defiance of the law, guns were sold to Indians, who paid twenty beaverskins for one musket. Every fourth building in town was a liquor store. In 1640 Kieft erected on Staten Island the first private distillery in the history of America.

Kieft decided to make some reforms, which he announced by means
of posters tacked onto trees, barns, and fences. The sale of guns or gunpowder to Indians was prohibited on pain of death. Illegal traffic in furs was banned. Tobacco was taxed. No one could leave Manhattan without a passport. When the church bell rang at 9
P.M.
, everybody had to go to bed. No sailor could stay ashore after sundown. A seaman who pulled a knife on a shipmate was ordered to throw himself three times from the top of his ship into the water.

Although Kieft's restless gray eyes missed nothing, he was such a dunderhead that he foolishly tried to tax the Indians. He insisted that their presence caused the company to spend too much money on fortifications. The peaceable redskins were astonished at this order to pay the Dutch a tribute of furs, corn, or wampum. Because European coins were scarce here, even the Dutch used wampum as money. Kieft warned the Indians: “If there be any tribe that will not willingly contribute, we shall induce them to do so by most suitable means.”

Kieft next decided to build a stone church inside the walls of the fort. Hoping to get the people to pay part of the cost, he resorted to trickery. A Dutch girl married a surgeon. The governor, of course, was invited to attend the wedding party. After three or four rounds of drinks Kieft took out a piece of paper and announced that he was ready to accept pledges for construction of the new church. Many giddy guests pledged generous sums. When they sobered up the next day, however, they vowed that this just wasn't the proper way to get donations for a house of worship. The company had to pay the workmen.

Besides internal problems, the governor concerned himself with affairs outside the colony. Potential dangers loomed almost everywhere he looked. To the north, mainly above the St. Lawrence River, lay New France. To the northeast was New England, the numbers of its colonies and population growing. Virginia lay to the south. In addition to watching these rivals, Kieft watched apprehensively what was happening in New Sweden, to the southwest.

Peter Minuit was so angered at being dismissed by the Dutch West India Company that he offered his services to the Swedish government A colonizing agency, called the New Sweden Company, had been organized in 1626, but because of wars and the death of the Swedish king, no expedition had been launched at that time. In 1638, the year that Kieft came to New Netherland, Peter Minuit led fifty Swedish and Dutch colonists to the Delaware River, built a fort near
present-day Wilmington, Delaware, and named it Fort Christina in honor of the young Swedish queen.

Sweden's claim to this territory was based on purchase from the Indians, whereas Holland's claim was based on Hudson's discovery. Kieft wrote a letter of protest to Minuit, who did not bother to reply but went on strengthening his fort. Kieft then asked the Dutch West India Company for instructions. Not caring to precipitate a war with Sweden, the directors ignored the matter for the time being.

In addition to the Delaware situation, Kieft faced perils in Connecticut and on Long Island. The English were arriving in America much faster than the Dutch. They began to push down from Massachusetts into Connecticut, spilling over onto the eastern end of Long Island. Soon the English settlers far outnumbered all the New Netherland Dutch. The migration of the English was strong because it was organized under Church auspices. The Dutch migration was weaker because it consisted of unorganized individuals under the thumb of the profit-seeking Dutch West India Company.

In 1623 the Dutch had started building Fort Good Hope on the present site of Hartford, Connecticut, but they hadn't bothered to complete it. Now, with the English overrunning the area, the Dutch finished the fort. Onto a big tree they nailed the arms of the Dutch government, only to have some Englishmen tear it down and substitute an insulting picture.

Kieft next turned his attention to the problem of smuggling within New Netherland. When he was unable to quash this lawlessness, the Amsterdam chamber finally decided that it might as well waive its shaky monopoly of the fur trade. In 1639 the fur traffic was “thrown free and open to everybody.” All the merchants of Holland and those of friendly nations were invited to send to New Netherland any merchandise they wished and to buy pelts there. However, duties of 10 percent on imports and 15 percent on exports were imposed. In addition, both imports and exports had to be carried in ships belonging to the Dutch West India Company. This measure did encourage immigration.

Colonization was also stimulated by change in the patroonship system. Now anyone willing and able to transport himself and only 5 grown persons to New Netherland was to be given 200 acres of land. Earlier, 50 colonists had been necessary, and much larger estates had been handed out. By this time Michael Paauw had failed
to make a go of his Staten Island estate, called Pavonia, so the Amsterdam directors bought back the property. They then changed the name of the isle to Staten Island in honor of the States General, or government, of Holland.

Farmers of modest means sailed from Holland to take advantage of the liberalized land policy. Laborers came from New England, where the theocratic government was growing oppressive. Arriving from Virginia were English-born convicts who had been sent there to work as plantation laborers and were glad to escape when their enforced servitude ended. Slaves were imported from Brazil in greater numbers.

To take care of this increased population, Kieft bought more land from the Indians. By 1640 almost all the area within the present limits of New York City was in Dutch hands. The governor also secured a big tract of land north of the city in what is now Westchester County. Portions of this property soon were deeded away to enterprising settlers. One was a Danish Lutheran, named Jonai Bronck, who received a grant of real estate north of the Harlem River in the present county of the Bronx. In 1642 town lots were distributed along the newly formed streets of Manhattan. The next year eighteen different languages were spoken in New Amsterdam, the city being international in character almost from the start.

As trade increased, Governor Kieft tired of entertaining visitors in his own home. With the approval of the people he erected a five-story tavern on the low ground at 71-73 Pearl Street, then the head of Coenties Slip. Built of stone, oak timber, and lime made from oyster shells, it was for years the most famous structure in town, and in 1653 it became the first City Hall.

Hanover Square in lower Manhattan was now a public common, or park, and early in 1641 people meeting there talked excitedly about the big news. Some Negro slaves owned by the company had killed another slave near the fort. Nine Negroes were captured, but no one knew which had struck the fatal blow. To make the culprit confess, all were threatened with torture; whereupon all nine declared themselves equally guilty. Perhaps they reasoned they wouldn't be put to death en masse, since laborers were needed in the growing town. The prisoners were then ordered to draw lots. The one who lost was to be hanged so that just one able-bodied man would be taken from the community. In this deadly lottery the loser was Manuel Gerrit, an enormous fellow called the Giant.

On the day set for the execution the entire populace turned out to watch, together with some blank-faced black-eyed Indians, curious about the ways of the white men. A ladder was angled against one wall of the fort. The Giant was forced to climb to the top. He was so heavy that two ropes were used to hang him. After they were placed around his neck, the ladder was jerked away. Both ropes broke. Gerrit fell to the ground, bellowing in pain, writhing, and clutching at his throat. At this piteous sight women shrieked. Men turned to the governor and begged him to let the prisoner go. But Willem the Testy told the hangman to prepare stronger ropes. At last so many voices were raised in behalf of the wretched slave that Kieft yielded to public pressure. Gerrit was freed after he bad promised to behave himself in the future and not to go around helping people murder other people.

About this time the Indians posed a problem that couldn't be disposed of so easily as Gerrit. They were angry because Kieft was trying to tax them. Then too, the white men's cattle strayed onto their unfenced land and trampled their corn. The redskins sometimes protected their crops by killing the cattle, and this led to reprisals. One incident followed another. A band of Raritan Indians attacked a Staten Island plantation and slew four white men. Kieft promptly offered a reward for the head of any Raritan brought to the fort.

One summer day in 1641 a wheelwright, named Claes Smit, was busy in his lonely house on the East River far above New Amsterdam at what is now West Forty-fifth Street. An Indian appeared and asked to buy a piece of coarse cloth. When the unsuspecting Dutchman turned to get it, the redskin seized an ax and killed him. The murderer was the same Indian who, as a lad of twelve, had seen his uncle killed by Dutchmen near the Collect. Sixteen years later, a grown man, he got his revenge.

This Indian belonged to a Westchester tribe living at the site of Yonkers. Kieft sent word to the tribal chief demanding that the killer be delivered into the hands of the white men. The sachem refused. Kieft then threatened to wipe out the entire tribe, but the colonists were reluctant to launch a bloody war. Compromising, Kieft suggested that the townspeople elect twelve of their best men to confer with him on this issue. Thus, for the first time the colonists won a measure of self-government. The Twelve Men, as they were called, agreed that the murderer must be surrendered, but they wouldn't consent to a war just then because necessary preparations hadn't been made.

The following winter, however, the Twelve Men told the governor that they would approve an expedition against the Westchester tribe if the settlers were granted certain reforms. Enraged, Kieft dissolved the group. Then, acting on his own, he sent eighty soldiers toward Yonkers, carefully refraining from leading them himself. The expedition was a fiasco. The guide lost his way, the commanding officer lost his temper, and the soldiers marched back to the fort without even sighting the Indian village. Redskins saw the soldiers, though, and were so frightened by the show of force that they offered to give up the murderer. Somehow this was never done, but a peace treaty between the Dutch and the Westchester Indians was signed in the home of Jonas Bronck.

There were other Indian problems. Although Kieft had been successful in preventing the sale of guns to Algonquins in and around Manhattan, Dutch traders upriver freely bartered muskets to the Iroquois. The Algonquins and the Iroquois were deadly enemies. Armed with superior weapons, the Iroquois of the upper Hudson Valley descended on the Westchester and River tribes near New Amsterdam and demanded tribute. A thousand terrified Algonquins fled in midwinter to Manhattan and the vicinity of Jersey City. They begged the Dutch for protection, but the shortsighted Kieft snorted that he would make the Indians “wipe their chops!”

By his orders two detachments of soldiers filed out of the fort. One group marched to nearby Corlaer's Hook in Manhattan on the East River, where the Vladeck Houses now stand, and slaughtered forty Indian refugees. The second and larger detachment crossed the Hudson, proceeded to the site of Jersey City, and attacked in the dark. The engagement that night of February 25-26, 1643, is known as the Pavonia Massacre. Dutch soldiers fell on the unsuspecting Indians, murdering and mutilating about eighty men, women, and children. Then the uniformed butchers marched back to Fort Amsterdam in triumph, carrying the severed heads of some of their victims. Kieft was so delighted that he congratulated and decorated the men.