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ANY of my readers have, no doubt, heard tell of Con Donoho, of the old sixth ward. Con was a famed political chief in the reign of Felix O'Niel, as was ever the bold Rynders at the time of Bill Ford, Country McCleester, Hen Chanfrau, Manny Kelly, Dirty-face Jack, Mike Philips, and many men of renown, who cleverly "cleared the husky raccoons down," and elected Polk and Dallas over Henry Clay, in 1844.

There are many political sports and old fire laddies who remember Con Donoho, king of the politicians of the sixth ward, and who perhaps patronized Con at his little grocery on Orange Street, well toward Chatham, in quest of his favors, helping them to votes for their friends who were running for office under difficulties. Such men as Purdy, Tweed, Brady, Delavan, Haskin, McKeon, Welch, John A. Kennedy, Fernando Wood, Owen W. Brennan, Cornell, Kelly, Charlick, Purser, Brown, pleasantly and favorably remembered Con as a zealous, firm, hard-fisted Democrat of the old school.

Con's castle, or domicile, was one of lofty appearance, and on certain leisure days was well guarded by his retainers, who, with their wives and children, occupied chambers in his many-roomed house. Wet days was Con's harvest-time, for then the streets could not be swept, and knights of the broom, hoe, and shovel kept holiday at their chieftain's rendezvous. The steps that led to the barroom from the street, although wide, afforded only room for one cus

tomer at a time, as upon each step a barrel stood containing two or three brooms, another with charcoal, another with herrings nearly full to the top, while upon its half-open head lay piled up a dozen or two of the biggest, to denote what fine fish were within. Inside the store each shelf was full, be it with empty boxes or not; a bar quite ornamental, well stocked with pipes in boxes, and what comes in pipes, turned into jugs and demijohns of assorted sizes. Seats there were none, as Con kept no accommodations for sitters, unless they found it on a half-pipe of gin, "Swan brand," that lay on its side near the

Old Government House, Bowling Green. Erected, 1790. Intended for the residence of the President (Washington). Then became Governor's House, and was occupied by George Clinton and John Jay. Afterward Custom House, from 1799-1815; was then taken down.

counter, or a row of Binghamton whisky-barrels, interspersed here and there with barrels of pure spirits, much above proof, that told the fact that Con Donoho was a manufacturer of ardent spirits as well as ardent voters.

When Con was away on business, his good woman, Mrs. Donoho, stood behind the counter to attend to all customers; and an able helpmate was she to just such a rising man and politician as Con gave promise to be. Should Mrs. Conlan, or Mrs. Mulrooney, or the wife of any other good voter of the old Sixth, come for her groceries, or with a milk-pitcher for a drop of good gin, or a herring to broil

for the good man's twelve o'clock dinner, she would avail herself of the opportunity to have a bit of talk with her concerning how her James, Patrick, or Peter would vote on the approaching aldermanic election. And I may as well post many of my readers as I jog along, with the fact that in the sixth ward there was always a split on aldermen. At that time Dooley's Long-Room was situated on the corner of Duane and Cross. What is left of it stands now on Centre and Duane, and is known as the Sixth Ward Hotel. In this room there has come off more Irish jollifications, benefit balls, raffles for stoves, primary meetings, and political rows than in any other public place in the city. Dooley's Long-Room was as famed in politics as was ever Tammany Hall. To hold a meeting there made it orthodox and regular. The ticket that was indorsed at that famed political head-quarters carried the ward. This was why all splits struggled hard, even to bloody rows, to obtain an indorsement. Regularity in the old Sixth was ofttimes only won by black eyes, torn coats, and dilapidated hats.

City Hospital.

The knowing politicians of the ward never went well dressed to a caucus meeting at Dooley's Long-Room. I have seen one side whipped out and the other whipped in many a time; and once, when John Emmons was the candidate, nothing gave him the victory but the fact that Bill Scally, with Con Donoho and his men, arrived just in the nick of time to save the chairman from going out of the window, and the secretary following him; but their timely arrival changed the complexion of things, and sent the opposition chairman and officers out through the same window. Those were, indeed, glorious times, and the candidates that would not come and take a hand along with their friends in battling for their cause would lack votes on election days.

Why, a row was exciting then; the most you got was an eye in mourning, or a sleeveless coat, or a tail lacking-there was no murder or a man shot, as now. Why, I have seen Alderman Brady, George D. Strong, Dr. Ferris, John Emmons, Felix O'Niel, Tom Henry, Shinas Parker, Martin Waters, and John Foote full of enjoyment at a political row in the old Sixth; and dear me, how they would crow over each other for weeks after, if their side won! and so strong was the Democratic majority, that it could well afford to run two tickets. This was why there was always a split, especially on important elections like Presidential or Gubernatorial.

This, then, is why Mrs. Con Donoho would start politics with her neighbors. Her talk would always turn upon who would be the next alderman; and heaven help the customer if she talked up in favor of John Foote on the split, or hinted that her man believed in Bill Nealus. If she did, the smallest herring or potatoes to be found in the barrel would be dealt out with a jerk, and a wink with it, that said when she had sense, and wanted to see her old man with a broom in his hand and ten shillings a day, work or no work, and pay from Con's own hand on Saturday nights, she had only to make her husband send the Nealuses to the devil, and hurrah for Felix O'Niel! In this way, Mrs. Con Donoho made many a convert to the banner of her liege lord, the bold Con Donoho.

Con, at the head of the Street Cleaning Department of the sixth ward, had under his control all the roaring, fighting, brawling heroes of his locality.

"Dead Rabbits" were unknown, and " Bowery Boys" attended to their legitimate business. Con was a shrewd fellow, and prospered under the instructions of John Laydon, Bill Scally, Black John McMahon, and Pete Fieriety, and had great influence as to the making of an alderman, and had, in his day, successfully opposed or sustained the politicians of his ward who came forward to receive its honors. He never could agree with Tom or Bill Nealus or Pat Kelly. Patrick Kelly, a stirring, sharp, energetic liquor dealer on the corner of Mott and Bayard streets, was very anxious to be an alderman, and, like many other foolish and ambitious men, had listened to the advice of those who drank free and freely at his bar, and believed himself to be popular in the ward, and upon this set himself up as a reformer who would knock the controlling power that was all

to smash, and oppose the interest of old Tammany; but who, like all others who as renegades put themselves in opposition to the golden rules of that time-honored institution, soon fell, to be crushed by the wheels of her victorious chariot as it rolled on its triumphant way.

Poor Pat Kelly, after spending many a dollar and ruining his business, gave up the ship, sued for peace on any terms, and, in sympathy, was taken into friendship by the regulars and made an alderman. They did the same thing for one Breaden, out of Anthony Street, at a later day.

The great mistake men made as politicians in days gone by was this: they by luck worked themselves into the good graces of the leaders of the ward that they belonged to, and from one step to another made friends, and were hailed as good, clever, useful fellows. At last they were trusted or allowed a seat in the General Committee. This was too much of a good thing.

In an instant almost they began to grow into importance with themselves. Where they once were tolerated because they were silent, they now let loose, talked, and presumed even to dictate; if opportunity offered, they turned against their makers; and, the first thing they knew, a pin was slipped out from under them, and away they went, chock back to where they started from, never to be heard from again, wishing, in their solitude, they had been satisfied with a back seat.

As an illustration of the great truth of what I say, I will cite an instance which happened in the sixth ward. A gentleman with great influence in that portion of the ward where he resided, and surrounded with many friends who, with himself, had worked most successfully for the Democratic party, desired to become its alderman. His claims were at once recognized, and he was elected by a full vote of the ward. No doubt the newly elected alderman believed that he was nominated and elected by his own power and popularity and not by the concurrence of those who guided the Democratic interests of the ward so masterly. All things went merry as a marriage-bell, and would have continued to do so, and the new alderman from time to time received the highest honors the ward could, by its great political power, confer; but, by bad advisers or mistake, he chose to set himself up in opposition to the advancing interests and policy of the Democrats of the ward, and presumed to