"Hot Dog" in New Haven (1890s)

[Bapopik at AOL.COM]

   The North American Immigrant Letters, Diaries and Oral Histories database is available at NYU.  (For George Thompson: It took some searching to find it; BOBCAT has been re-designed and the link is incorrect.)
    I tried searching for some regional/ethnic foods, then tried the standard words of "bread" and "cheese."  There's not a lot here, and there were no antedates.
    The following is of possible interest for the word "hot dog" at Yale in the 1890s (at the bottom of this excerpt).



  Irvine, Alexander F., 1863-1941, Chapter 14: My Fight in New Haven in From the Bottom Up: The Life Story of Alexander Irvine.  New York, NY:  Doubleday, Page & Co.,  1910, pp. 304.  [Bibliographic Details] [1910] S8553-D015

 Chapter 14: My Fight in New Haven

  THE experiences of 1894, '5 and '6 gave me a distaste -- really a disgust -- with public life I felt that I would never enter a large city again. I sought retirement in a country parish; this was secured for me by my friend, the president of Tabor College, the Rev. Richard Cecil Hughes.

  It was in a small town in Iowa -- Avoca in Pottawattomie County; I stayed there a year.

  In 1897 I was in Cleveland, Ohio, in charge of an institution called The Friendly Inn; a very good name if the place had been an inn or friendly. My inability to make it either forced me to leave it before I had been there many months. It was in Cleveland that I first joined a labour union. I was a member of what was called a Federal Labour Union and was elected its representative to the central body of the union movement.

  Early in 1898 I was in Springfield, Mass., delivering a series of addresses to a Bible school there. My funds ran out and not being in receipt of any remuneration and, not caring to make my condition known, I was forced for the first time in my life to
 [p. 184]
  become a candidate for a church. There were two vacant pulpits and I went after both of them. Meantime I boarded with a few students who, like their ancestors, had "plenty of nothing but gospel."

  They lived on seventy-five cents a week. Living was largely a matter of scripture texts, hope and imagination. I used to breakfast through my eyes at the beautiful lotus pond in the park. We lunched usually on soup that was a constant reminder of the soul of Tomlinson of Berkeley Square. Quantitively speaking, supper was the biggest meal of the day -- it was a respite also for our imaginations.

  The day of my candidacy arrived. I was prepared to play that most despicable of all ecclesiastical tricks -- making an impression. I almost memorized the Scripture reading and prepared my favourite sermon; my personal appearance never had been so well attended to. The hour arrived. The little souls sat back in their seats to take my measure.

  It was their innings. I had been duly looked up in the year-book and my calibre gauged by the amount of money paid me in previous pastorates.

  The "service" began. My address to the Almighty was prepared and part of the game is to make believe that it is purely extemporaneous. Every move, intonation and gesture is noted and has its bearing on the final result. I was saying to the ecclesiastical jury: "Look here, you dumb-heads, wake up; I'm the thing you need here!" Sermon
 [p. 185]
  time came and with it a wave of disgust that swept over my soul.

  "Good friends," I began; "I am not a candidate for the pastorate here. I was a few minutes ago; but not now. Instead of doing the work of an infinite God and letting Him take care of the result I have been trying to please you. If the Almighty will forgive me for such unfaith -- such meanness -- I swear that I will never do it again."

  Then I preached. This brutal plainness created a sensation and several tried to dissuade me, but I had made up my mind.

  It was while I was enjoying the "blessings" of poverty in Springfield that I was called to New Haven to confer with the directors of the Young Men's Christian Association about their department of religious work. I had been in New Haven before. In 1892 I addressed the students of Yale University on the subject of city mission work and, as a result of that address, had been invited to make some investigations and outline a plan for city mission work for the students. I spent ten days in the slum region there, making a report and recommendations. On these the students began the work anew. I was asked at that time to attach myself to the university as leader and instructor in city missions, but work in New York seemed more important to me.

  I rode my bicycle from Springfield to New Haven for that interview. When it was over I found myself
 [p. 186]
  on the street with a wheel and sixty cents. I bought a "hot dog" -- a sausage in a bread roll -- ate it on the street and then looked around for a lodging.
 (...)


 Irvine, Alexander F., 1863-1941, Chapter 14: My Fight in New Haven in From the Bottom Up: The Life Story of Alexander Irvine.  New York, NY:  Doubleday, Page & Co.,  1910, pp. 304.