In 1904 just about one in four New Yorkers was German — either an immigrant or a child of an immigrant. The largest concentration of them was in the area known as Little Germany or Kleindeutschland which was located on the lower East side of Manhattan, running along the East River from Houston to 14th Street.
It was very much a working-class neighborhood, full of small shops and family businesses. A new immigrant would feel very much at home here as, within the confines of the neighborhood, businesses, churches, schools, newspapers all used the vernacular of the homeland. It was a tight-knit community, and yet, by 1904 its population had already peaked and those who had been here a while and had prospered enough were looking to move out of its familiar, but crowded, streets and had begun the process of assimilation into the larger metropolitan area. They were moving to Yorkville in upper Manhattan, to Williamsburg in Brooklyn, and to Jersey City, West New York, and Hoboken across the river in Hudson County, New Jersey.
Despite the ongoing exodus, this was still a very vibrant neighborhood of 12,000. As with many recent immigrants, even to this day, the church was central to the life of the community. St. Mark’s Lutheran Church catered almost exclusively to the German population. The Sunday School had hundreds of children enrolled and the end of each school year was marked by a gala event – a boat excursion to picnic grounds on Long Island Sound.
June 15, 1904 was the 17th annual outing, and it was planned to be the most wonderful by far as the group would be travelling on one of the most popular boats in the harbor, the General Slocum.
June 15, 1904 was the 17th annual outing, and it was planned to be the most wonderful by far as the group would be travelling on one of the most popular boats in the harbor, the General Slocum.
Less than half an hour after setting off, however, the jubilant, excited throng had turned into a panicked mob, as desperate parents fought to save the lives of their children when the Slocum went up in flames.
Fire Dept N.Y., retired.
Few people of the day knew how to swim and even those who did would have had a very difficult time of it, weighed down as they were in their Sunday best. The adults frantically tried to pull down the life jackets which were wired in place. Those able to put jackets on their children may, rather than help save them, actually have hastened their deaths as the life jackets were rotten and instead of keeping a person afloat actually acted like sponges, soaking up water and dragging the children under as soon as the jackets were saturated. Fire hoses also were rotten and burst as soon as the water was turned on. Life boats hadn’t been moved in years and might as well have been nailed in place as the many coats of paint adhered them firmly to the deck.
There was no escape for most of the 1,300. Mothers with three or four children had to make the agonizing choice of allowing them to burn to death on the deck or risk drowning. Most chose the water.
By the end of the day more than 1,000 were dead. Most of the victims drowned, though there were 61 who had been burned beyond recognition and were eventually buried in a mass grave for the unknowns in Lutheran, now All Faiths, Cemetery in Queens.
While the ship burned and people died, some boats in the area got out of the way, fearing the panicked victims would swamp them. However, others rose to the occasion and demonstrated great heroism.
The New York Health Department’s tugboat The Franklin Edson, captained by Henry Rick1, was docked, but running, at its 132nd St. pier. It a moment it was off and pulling alongside the Slocum2. As a member of Edson’s crew, Andrew Andrews and his mates were among the first to begin rescuing victims. Captain Rick brought the tug within a few feet of the burning tour boat and young Andrew jumped onto the deck of the Slocum and handed people down to his crewmates. The Edson continued rescuing people until the paint on their boat began to blister and the deck started to burn.
Estimates vary between 25 and 50 of the number rescued by the Edson’s crew.
Andrew Andrews, and perhaps other members of the crew, were commended for their efforts by the U.S. Volunteer Life-Savings Corps with a medal and a certificate. Andrew’s medal, which has long since disappeared, probably looked like the one shown.
His certificate, fortunately, has survived and was presented to the NYG&B by Andrew’s grandson Bruce Andrews of Ocala, Florida, whose father, Gene Andrews, participated in the 100th anniversary memorial program held at the G&B in June 2004. Gene made the recommendation to donate the certificate and Bruce, apparently, didn’t need much persuasion.
Andrew’s certificate, torn and brittle after 100 years, is shown to the left.
In Bruce’s own words:
My desire was to place this historical document in an archive for historical preservation. This would permit its availability to researchers, relatives of persons connected to the General Slocum disaster and the general public to understand the importance that this event had on maritime safety and the German population in New York City and the United States.
This was a tragic event that took place in New York City. Victims were residents of the city, rescuers and those rendering aid and comfort to all were New Yorkers for the most part. Therefore this document belongs in the custody of the NYG&B.
. . . I commend the efforts of The New York Genealogical & Biographical Society and numerous other individuals who have given of time, effort and money to preserve the events of the worst marine disaster in New York City, that of the General Slocum on 15 June 19043.
The text of the award is as follows:
U.S. Volunteer Life-Saving Corps
Andrew Andrews
This is to certify that your heroic conduct in rescuing from drowning and resuscitating the sufferers of the Slocum Disaster, having been fully attested to this office by satisfactory evidence, our Board takes pleasure in awarding to you our
MEDAL OF HONOR
as a memorial of your bravery and efficiency.
We trust that you will long live to wear it with honor and pride and that it may ever be an incentive to others to qualify themselves for and be ever ready to help their fellows in distress.
The Seal reads:
Volunteer Lifesaving Corps
At North Brothers Island
Incorporated Inland Waters 1880
June 15th, 1904
New York
The story of this family’s heroism doesn’t, however, end here. On North Brother Island a young Bertha Smallwood was working as a nurse in the contagious diseases hospital. As victims were pulled onshore by the rescuers, Bertha ran to the beach and spent the day offering assistance and medical care to the survivors.
When the frantic pace calmed down, she met young Andrew Andrews and they struck up a friendship. One year later they were married4.
The New York Genealogical & Biographical Society wishes to extend its thanks to the Andrews family for donating this treasure to the G&B collection.
Notes.
- There is disagreement over the last name of the captain of the Franklin Edson. Edward T. O’Donnell in Ship Ablaze: The Tragedy of the Steamboat “General Slocum” (Broadway Books, 2003), refers to him as Fick; Claude Rust in The Burning of the General Slocum, (New York: Elsevier-Dutton Pub. Co., Inc., 1981), p. 76, calls him Rock; while the Andrews family is sure his name was Rick. Checking the 1900 Federal Census for all three names, the only one who seems to match is Henry Rick, age 54, born Germany, occupation Pilot, who was living in the Bronx (New York, Bronx, ED 995, S 9A, L 20).
- Rust, p. 76.
- Letter from Bruce Andrews to author, 3 July 2004.
- From the family history of Gene Andrews.
by Lauren Maehrlein
© 2011 The New York Genealogical and Biographical Society
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