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Wednesday, October 02, 2019

Prank Pulled on Editor of Pelham Newspaper by Pelham Manor Prankster in 1897


It was an early instance of unintended Fake News!  In 1897, Pelham had -- for the first time in its history -- competing weekly newspapers.  J. Gardiner Minard of the Village of North Pelham was founder, editor, and sole beat reporter of the Pelham Press.  In 1897 Alfred E. Stevens of Mt. Vernon noted the success of the Pelham Press and decided to start a rival newspaper:  the Pelham Record.  

 Many Pelhamites resented what they deemed to be the "intrusion" of a rival newspaper based outside of their community in Mount Vernon.  That summer, one Pelham resident decided to do something about it.  He pulled a prank on the Mount Vernon-based editor of the new newspaper.  

 I have written repeatedly about the history of newspapers in the Town of Pelham.  For a few examples of many more such articles, see:

 Fri., Feb. 22, 2019:  More About The Pelham Manor Tribune (1893 - 1896), One of the Earliest Newspapers Published in Pelham.

 Mon., Aug. 04, 2014:  A History of Newspapers Published in Pelham.

 Thu., Jun. 26, 2014:  A History of the Early Years of The Pelham Sun, A Pelham Newspaper Institution. 

 Mon., Sep. 05, 2005:  The Pelham Republican: Official Newspaper of The Villages of Pelham and North Pelham in 1902. 

 Mon., May 23, 2005:  Thomas M. Kennett, Long Time Editor of The Pelham Sun. 

 Fri., Apr. 01, 2005: The Earliest Newspaper in Pelham?

 Jim Beecroft of the Village of Pelham Manor was the consummate prankster.  Indeed, he was so good at his craft that he could execute entertaining pranks at a moment's notice as he did one summer afternoon in 1897 when he happened to see the Mount Vernon editor of the new Pelham newspaper, Alfred E. Stevens, on the streets of Pelham.

 That afternoon Beecroft was standing outside the local pharmacy at One Fifth Avenue speaking with J. Gardiner Minard, editor of the Pelham Press.  The pair observed Alfred E. Stevens, editor of the new rival newspaper, walking along Fifth Avenue toward them.  Beecroft whispered to Minard not to "give me away" and slipped into the pharmacy as Stevens approached.

 Stevens arrived, greeted Minard, and the two men began speaking.  Soon, Beecroft emerged from the pharmacy with an arm bandaged and resting in a sling.  As Minard looked on, Stevens asked Beecroft how he had been injured.

 Beecroft spun a fantastic yarn -- a tale of epic seamanship that led to injury.  Though he was an experienced sailor himself, Beecroft intentionally misstated details of the ship on which he supposedly was injured -- details experienced mariners would recognize as false but an uninitiated land lubber would certainly not.  Beecroft reportedly told Stevens:

 "I was one of 18 guests aboard Commodore Gerry's private catboat 'Sea Nymph,' on a cruise up the Sound yesterday, when off Execution light a sudden squall came up and the crew were sent aloft to take in the topsails.  I saw they were in trouble and being something of a sailor myself through experience on my own cruising yacht, I went up to give them a hand.  I was standing on the yard at the mizzen holding the reef when a sudden blow yanked the sail from my hands and I lost my footing and fell to the forecastle deck and broke my arm.  Fortunately Commodore Gerry's physician was aboard and set it.  He says it will be alright in a couple of weeks."

 J. Gardiner Minard played along with the prank.  He listened to the wild account told by his friend and nodded with appropriate concern and empathy.  

 Little did land lubber Stevens know that a "catboat" such as that on which Beecroft claimed to be injured was barely bigger than a rowboat.  It was not, as seamen of the day would say, a "full rigger" with topsails, a yard, and mizzen sail.  It could not possibly carry a crew, an owner, eighteen guests, and a physician.  Nor would such a tiny boat have topsails.  Yet, the editor of the new rival newspaper fell for the story "hook, line and sinker."  He returned to his newspaper offices and wrote an entire article that recounted Beecroft's terrible injury when wind yanked the reef from his hands and toppled him to the forecastle deck, breaking his arm.  The article appeared on the front page of the newspaper in its next issue.

The Cat Boat by Edward Hopper (1922), Etching on Paper.
Smithsonian American Art Museum.  NOTE:  Click on Image to Enlarge.

 Jim Beecroft was not yet done with his prank, however.  Once the newspaper hit local newsstands, Beecroft bought many extra copies and mailed them to local seamen including a number on City Island.  

 Among those to whom he mailed the newspaper was Captain Jake Smith, retired seaman and owner of the Macedonia Hotel on City Island.  Captain Jake, as he was called, received the newspaper and gathered local seamen in his bar at the hotel where he read the article.  All had a grand laugh at the expense of poor Alfred E. Stevens and the Pelham Record.  Then that group of seafaring men hatched their own plan to enjoy even more laughter at the expense of Editor Stevens.

 For years thereafter, whenever any new sailor appeared in the bar of the Macedonia Hotel, Captain Jake would tell the story of Jim Beecroft and his fall from the yard at the mizzen sail to the forecastle of a catboat where he broke his arm.  Each time each skeptical sailor would dispute the account and question the sanity of Captain Jake.  Captain Jake then would bet a round of drinks for everyone in the bar if he could "prove" his account.  Once the bet was made, Captain Jake would whip out the newspaper article and claim that it "proved" the account.  Typically, though not always, the new sailor would acknowledge that he had been had and, with great laughter, would buy a round of drinks for all in the bar.  According to one account:  "The game was worked day after day until the clipping became so frayed that it was hardly legible.  Every sailor caught wanted to pass the buck to some shipmate and Jake did a land office business."

"THE OLD HISTORIC MACEDONIA HOTEL, CITY ISLAND, N. Y."
An Undated Postcard Image of the Macedonia Hotel.  NOTE:
Click on Image to Enlarge.

 Captain Jake made a small fortune from the many rounds of drinks that newcomers were forced to buy over the years in the bar of the Macedonia Hotel.  Consequently, after Captain Jake learned how the news story had originated from a prank played by Jim Beecroft with the participation of Captain Jake's close friend, J. Gardiner Minard (editor of the rival Pelham Press of Pelham), Captain Jake never allowed Minard to pay for a meal or drink in when he partook in the Macedonia Hotel.  

 *          *          *          *          *

 Below is an account of the prank pulled by Jim Beecroft and J. Gardiner Minard in 1897.  The text is followed by a citation and link to its source.

 "PELHAM 30 YEARS AGO
(Pelham Press, June 18, 1897)

 (Continued from Last Week)

 The Pelham Press had now been running 15 months and was firmly established in the hearts of the residents of the town so that when the new paper, Pelham Record, put in its appearance, the people resented the intrusion.  No matter how editor Stephens worded his news items, the one concerned was angry, but he was a glutton for punishment and always came back for more.  It remained for 'Jim' Beecroft of Pelham Manor to spill the beans for him.  Jim had a fertile brain for mischief and on a fine June morning in 1897 he was in conversation with the editor of the Press on the corner of Fifth avenue and First street when the latter remarked that the editor of the new paper was approaching from near Second street, 'is that the new editor?  Hold him until I come out and don't give me away,' replied Jim as he disappeared into Lyman's drug store on the corner, without further explanation.

 The two editors were in conversation when Jim emerged with his left arm bandaged and in a sling.  Stephens gazed at the arm and asked what was the matter, and this is the story Jim told:  'I was one of 18 guests aboard Commodore Gerry's private catboat 'Sea Nymph,' on a cruise up the Sound yesterday, when off Execution light a sudden squall came up and the crew were sent aloft to take in the topsails.  I saw they were in trouble and being something of a sailor myself through experience on my own cruising yacht, I went up to give them a hand.  I was standing on the yard at the mizzen holding the reef when a sudden blow yanked the sail from my hands and I lost my footing and fell to the forecastle deck and broke my arm.  Fortunately Commodore Gerry's physician was aboard and set it.  He says it will be alright in a couple of weeks.'

 Stephen swallowed the whole story, hook, line and sinker, and it appeared on the first page properly displayed.  Jim bought several copies and mailed marked copies to several friends.  Among these was Jake Smith, a retired sea captain who owned the Macedonia Hotel at City Island.  Smith's place was situated near the shipyards, sail lofts and dock and was the first place sailors stopped when vessels put in to be refitted or overhauled.

 There was always a number of seafaring men in the small barroom and Captain Jake was popular.  

 The Record arrived and Jake took off the wrapper, adjusted his spectacles and read the story with astonishment.  Then he rapped on the bar for attention, glared under his bushy iron red eyebrows to see that his order was obeyed and began to read the story.  Hardly had he read two lines before the men began arising from tables and chairs and approached the bar with open mouths and staring eyes.  He silenced all talk and laughter until he had finished and asked all hands to have a drink while he told his plans.  The men agreed to co-operate with him and he cut the article out and placed it in a drawer behind the bar.  The men returned to their places and appeared in ordinary conversation when a newly arrived captain strolled in, and walked to the bar.  Jake feigned great annoyance and the captain remarked that Jake looked worried about something.  Jake replied that he was worried; a great friend of his had met with a bad accident.  He then began relating the story and the visitor who had raised a glass to his lips, stopped suddenly, stared at Jake, replaced his full glass slowly on the bar and exploded, 'Jake, what are you talking about?  Topsails on a catboat, carrying a crew, besides 18 guests, owner, physician and possibly a number of stowaways.  Why, a catboat isn't any bigger than a rowboat.'

 Smith feigned irritation at this and offered to bet drinks for the house he was right and could prove it.  The visitor swore that Jake was crazy and would stake his life and all he owned including his ship that Jake was referring to a full rigger and not a catboat.  The other men arose and backed Jake and the visitor swore some more and accepted Jake's offer of drinks for the house and defied him to prove his claim.  Jake first put out the drinks and then solemnly took the clipping from the drawer and handed it gravely to the skipper.  The latter started reading and punctuated every line with an oath.  He roared, argued and  swore but finally paid for the drinks.  With the money in his hand, Jake smiled, which was a signal for all hands to break into a hearty laugh except the stranger.  Then Jake asked all to drink up and have a drink on the house.  Everything was explained to the skipper and he joined in the laughter and said, 'wait here and I will bring the mate and we will put it over on him.'

 The game was worked day after day until the clipping became so frayed that it was hardly legible.  Every sailor caught wanted to pass the buck to some shipmate and Jake did a land office business.  The editor of the Pelham Press and Jake were old friends and when Jake was informed how the story originated, the editor never could pay for anything he ordered at the Macedonia Hotel."

 Source:  PELHAM 30 YEARS AGO (Pelham Press, June 18, 1897), The Pelham Sun, Jul. 1, 1927, p. 12, cols. 1-5.  
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