Williamsburg Cattle Rustlin'

[Jersey Bull, Flatbush], circa 1880. Adrian Vanderveer Martense collection, V1974.7.128; Brooklyn Historical Society

This is the third in a series of posts on the records of Brooklyn’s Corporation Counsel, which are currently being processed with funding provided by a Council on Library and Information Resources (CLIR) “Hidden Collections” grant. 

Brooklynites today seem to have a closer relationship to their food than ever before.  We’re all familiar with the green markets, organic wholesalers, farm-to-table eateries, and artisanal mayonnaise purveyors.  We pride ourselves on not only knowing which farm our food comes from, but the exact chemical make-up of the farm’s soil content.  And while the borough is populated with plenty of vegans and vegetarians, there are plenty of omnivores out there consuming heritage-breed pork and heirloom beef.  Go to your local butcher or BBQ joint and you can learn everything you need to know about your meat – from where it was raised, to where it was slaughtered, to how long it was dry-aged (28 days minimum).  But just how close do you want to be to your porterhouse?

Take the case of Ellen Magner, who in 1893 found herself the victim of an errant herd of cattle.  Magner lived at 87 Berry St., which is just a few blocks from the East River waterfront.  At the time, there were a number of slaughterhouses located on Johnson Ave. in East Williamsburg.[1]  Cattle were dropped off at the foot of North 8^th St., driven down Kent Ave., then east on Metropolitan Ave. before heading down Bushwick Ave. to Johnson.  Unfortunately for Mrs. Magner, someone mistakenly took the herd down the wrong path.  The cattle trampled her property, destroying her fence and damaging her stoop.

Ellen Magner's Notice of Claim, 1893. Brooklyn, N.Y., Department of Law, Corporation Counsel records, 2013.015; Brooklyn Historical Society