Coney Island sausage (1891)

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   If you're still interested in sausage.  Scroll to the paragraph beginning with "Just outside..." and to the next one beginning "To be in with the people you must eat with them."  Notice that the sausage purchaser "invested the casual nickel."
   From HARPER'S WEEKLY, 12 September 1891, pg. 694:



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91-09-12


A PILGRIMAGE TO CONEY'S
ISLE.
BY FLAVEL SCOTT MINES.
     It was a hot day in August. Weary men
halted in front of all the available thermom-
eters, and sighed to find their estimate of the
sun's power several degrees beyond that
registered by the instrument. The north
pole was out of the question, and the next
best place suggested was that strip of sand
lying off the Long Island coast known as
Coney Island. The Pilgrims forthwith acted
upon the suggestion.

     The Bay held its powers to charm in the
shape of an erratic zephyr which hovered
above the waters; but when the Narrows
were reached, great rollers tumbled in be-
fore a rousing wind from the southeast, and
the heart of man was once more content.
The wind might carry off the soft strains of
"Comrades," as rendered by the Italian band,
but it also bore away all the petty thoughts
that were provoked by extra heat. It was
cheering to find such unanimous good hu-
mor as prevailed among the boat passengers.
Old and young, beautiful and ordinary, wore
a continual smile in anticipation of delights
to come. A portly priest was the embodi-
ment of satisfaction, and yielding to the in-
fluence of harmony, beat time to profane
music. Relief was granted to the weary Pil-
grims, and by the time the pier was reached
they were most anxious for amusement.

     The West End of Coney Island is a most
extraordinary jumble. With a few notable
exceptions, the architecture is suggestive of
a Western mining camp in its palmy days,
with a most wonderful leaning toward the
Moorish. Here and there, at all turns, are
Alhambraic turrets and minarets, garish dec-
orations and gilded domes, utterly at vari-
ance with all other styles. The Artist Pil-
grim heaved a sigh as he came upon the
main street, for his artistic soul was touched.
The twain halted a moment to gain breath,
for the place burst upon the travellers with
a suddenness that was appalling. Conflicting
strains of music came from everywhere, and
found their common centre in their imme-
diate vicinity. Stentorian voices of the street
fakirs mingled with the hum of everybody
are everything. Revolving swings and mer-
ry-go-rounds, shooting-galleries and concert
halls, razzle-dazzles and switch-backs, tobog-
gan-rollers and photographers, Frankfurters
and pea-nuts, beer, music, noise -- all these
things combined and intensified made up
the first glance at the West End.

     "We will be one of the people to-day,"
said the Artist, when he recovered from the
first shock, and the Other Pilgrim, meekly
assenting, followed him into the roller-skat-
ing rink and donned the skates. Here the
noises were two separate and distinct things
-- a brass band and the rumble of the skat-
ers. A few rounds on the skates failed to
renew the elasticity of youth, and the pair

This marks the beginning of Column 3

were glad to cease. Seeking the open air,
and incidentally the noise again, the Pilgrims
passed by a tempting sign of a "Labyrinth,"
the latter composed of wire netting run in all
directions, which invited you to come in
and lose yourself in the mazes for five cents.
Neither did the razzle-dazzle tempt them.
What a thing it was! A great circular frame
with seats all around, to which you mounted
by aid of outside steps, and then, when seated,
the frame swung around and around, up first,
then down, bringing into play all the sensa-
tions awakened by the tossing of a ship and
not infrequently the dire results. This ma-
lignant invention the Artist passed hurriedly
by, for the steamboat coming down had been
enough for him, and he had already decided
to return by rail. The merry-go-round that
next burst upon the Pilgrims would have
filled a student of natural history with envy
-- it would have suggested possible types of
beasts, fish, and fowl that had been neglected
by Nature. If Noah's arks would only take
pattern after these revolving specimens, the
joys of childhood would be increased tenfold.

     "It has always been my desire to shoot
at one of these things," remarked the Artist,
as he stood before a shooting-gallery, "but
I object to making myself appear foolish
upon principle. I know I couldn't hit them."
Lion, tiger, bear, and wolf appeared in rapid
succession above a line, keeping up a con-
tinual round, while a series of crystal balls
slid up and down narrow streams of water.
They were very alluring to the would-be
marksman, and just as elusive to the tiny
bullet that generally tried to find them. A
score of catchpenny contrivances lined the
street -- the one desire of the working popu-
lation being to derive an income from the
transient visitor.

     "This race for wealth is very depressing,"
remarked the Other Pilgrim, as his eye took
in the street.

     "Very," agreed the Artist, as a pint of
fresh pea-nuts was poured into his pocket.
There was something exhilarating in the pil-
grimage. The hot, dusty city was forgotten;
the cares of life were laid aside. The Pilgrims
were in search of pleasure, and soon wearied
themselves in the not by any means hopeless
search. For there was pleasure in watching
the people and seeing the evident enjoyment
depicted on their countenances. Down on
the beach the surf rolled in and tumbled the
bathers up and down. Stout men clung to
the ropes, and sighed to see a slim maid dive
head first into an incoming roller.

     "There is nothing artificial in pleasure of
this sort," remarked the Artist, as he dug
holes in the sand and pointed his camera at
two exceedingly stout females who had sat
down not far away, and seemed to find it im-
possible to rise.

     "No," said the Other Pilgrim, joining in
the general laugh at two or three strangers
who were thrown into each other's arms by
the playful surf. The gilded attractions of
the town seemed to be wholly apart from the
beach and the sand heaps which everybody
made.

     Just outside the ropes a boat was anchor-
ed, and in the stern a large dog watched all
the bathers -- he was the only occupant of
the boat, and seemed to appreciate the re-
sponsible position that he held, for he never
looked aside. But again the glittering gen-
eralities of life lured the Pilgrims from the
beach, and they came to the massive cow
that is said to give anything, from cream to
milk-punch. A renewed activity was no-
ticeable among the sandwich and sausage
men, for the sun gave indication of passing
out of sight for a while, and these purveyors
evidently looked for a hungry crowd.

     "To be in with the people you must eat
with them." remarked the Artist, halting
before a sausage stand and investing in a
lengthy Frankfurter hidden within the slices
of a roll. It was quite the thing to do, for
everybody seemed smitten with a sudden
liking for sausages, and invested the casual
nickel.

     "What a place for the National Educator,
who desires to instruct and raise people by
the drama," mused the Other Pilgrim, as the
glittering "stage attractions" (on paper) met
the eyes of the tourists.

     "True," assented the Artist; "what a
place, indeed."

     The drama at Coney Island has its degrees.
Not what is called the "legitimate drama," per-
haps, but the style that is known as "variety."
Gilmore and Seidl lie to eastward, but they ap-
peal alone to the ear. West Brighton is the
haunt of song and dance, trapeze acting, and
juggling. Of these there are all kinds -- and
they all appeal to the great American public
because they are free. A man, guiltless of
a coat, stands outside of many halls and thus
presents the case: "Only respectable show
on Coney Island. Only show patronized by
the élite that come to Coney Island. Cost
you nothing, gentlemen, cost you nothing.
All free of charge. Ladies laugh, gentlemen
laugh, children laugh. Step right in and take
a seat."

     "I can't resist such an appeal," laughed
the Artist; "to do Coney Island thoroughly
we must see these shows," and the Pilgrims
entered and timidly took rear seats. A white-
aproned waiter immediately desired to know
what was wished. The wish was quickly
supplied, and they were thenceforth privi-
leged to devote their attention to the stage.
A negro minstrel held the audience enthrall-
ed, until a tall female with an air of Lady
Macbeth interrupted him and proceeded to
engage his attention in a roaring farce. The

This marks the beginning of Column 4

Pilgrims sauntered forth again after heed-
ing a placard which read, "Wait for Frank
Bush." Here it might be stated that such
was the tenor of a sign in nearly every hall
that the Pilgrims visited, but never did they
get a glimpse of the much-advertised artist.
To and fro they went on their quest, darting
suddenly into unlooked-for places, hurrying
around corners, but to no avail. Mr. Bush
was a thing of the future, and through the
afternoon and evening, though a dozen or
more signs waved defiance in their faces, the
longing was unsatisfied.

     "Why doesn't the come?" sighed the Artist,
in sheer weariness of spirit. "I dare not ex-
pose my ignorance and ask," and the name
haunted him at every turn, until it became
a burden to the eye and a thorn in the flesh
-- but to-day the Pilgrims know not what de-
tained Mr. Bush, or what he was expected
to do after being waited for.

     Another phase of the drama was the place
where a "quarter" was composed of seven
persons -- five females in abbreviated skirts
and two corked end-men. The "stage-man-
ager," in civilized costume, sat on the stage
and consulted with the singers in a stage-
whisper as to what they knew and what they
didn't know. And what impressed the Pil-
grims was the fact that the musical educa-
tion of the troupe had been neglected, for
when three persons knew a song it was gen-
erally found that the others were not famil-
iar with it, and never once was a song com-
pleted -- the middle of the third verse was gen-
erally the fatal halting-place, and the virtuoso
at the piano, in his shirt sleeves, had it all
to himself. The audience sometimes lacked
familiarity with the world theatrical, as was
illustrated by the attempts of a youth of ten-
der years to blow out the foot-lights. He
effectually drowned the chorus when forci-
bly removed. There was a gentle hint con-
veyed to the audience at one hall, where a
sign read, "He is here. Who? The waiter."
And though the Pilgrims had evidence of
that fact, yet they doubted a companion
sign announcing a certain trio of sisters as
"next." It was likened unto a Frank Bush
snare, for the sign was tacked on the wall.
Amid the singing and the dancing was ever
heard the man outside inviting everybody to
come in. But, as the Pilgrims discovered,
there were degrees, and as the evening wore
on, they wandered into a hall of extra dimen-
sions, where the background of Niagara (on
the stage) was hidden partly by a low terra-
cotta building. There was really first-class
"variety," and when two Japs appeared they
were recognized as being above the ordinary.
The climax was reached when the maiden,
fair of feature, threw a mass of tangled pa-
pers into the air, which were converted in
a twinkling into a series of small American
flags reaching across the stage (and the band
played "Hail, Columbia"). The girl made
a pretty picture as she bowed to the awe-
struck audience, and the artist was enrapt-
ured.

     There is no doubt of the popularity of the
drama by the sea. It is undoubtedly cheap,
and it encompasseth many strange things,
but as an educator it is unworthy of consid-
eration. The exception that goes to prove
each and all of these rules is not lacking, and
the lesson that it teachers is love and kindness,
so it is deserving to rank as an educator. The
actors are not on speaking terms with any of
their professional brethren, but they are nei-
ther proud nor uppish in their bearing. The
Artist saw the sign from afar off, and hasten-
ed to pay his ten cents. The actors were
lolling around the tent in various positions,
and some, it is sad to say, where bound with
ropes. Sullivan sat in the ring, and occa-
sionally waved a gloved paw in the air in
defiance to an unseen Kilrain, and the Learn-
ed Goose looked out from his wired prison
with the air of a martyr. When the trainer
came he was greeted with delight, and the
Learned Goose came out and picked out any
number desired, and told time by looking at
a watch and indicating the hour and minute
by picking up the different numbers that
were scattered about. "Not such a goose as
he looks," said the Artist, sotto voce. Sullivan
and Kilrain had three rounds with soft gloves,
and a battle royal it was! Once or twice they
clinched, but as a rule they stood up and dealt
blows at each other, taking care not to hit
except in the face. When Kilrain was final-
ly knocked clear over the ropes, Sullivan
looked at his adversary with a professional
pride, but embraced him fondly after the au-
dience were gone. They were very happy
and good-natured, but they were cats. The
dogs, who contributed to a great part of the
performance, would have won the heart of
any one who was possessed of such an arti-
cle. It was worth a dozen of the other shows
to see these well-trained animals, and the Art-
ist conceived such a violent admiration for
them that it was with great difficulty that he
could be persuaded to move on.

     Many curious types were seen along the
street; but as the Artist said, the place to
study the people was in some concert-hall.
Everybody went to the latter. Mothers with
baskets and babies and whole hordes of
youngsters would suddenly pounce upon and
occupy a table in these halls, and while all the
stage-business was carefully noted, a single
glass of lemonade would circulate among
half a dozen little mouths, which seemed al-
ways to be open.

     Then a party of rough men would walk
down near the front, and after ordering beer,
indicate some particular girl on the stage
whom they wished to treat. The beverages


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indulged in by all members was a species of
pink lemonade or beer. Social conditions
do not exist in this minor Arcadia; every
man is as good as another, and what is more,
the fact is generally recognized. Force is
the potent factor, and leads one to believe
in the survival, etc. The white-aproned
waiters make a numerous class at Coney
Island, and a formidable one too. They
must be able to hold their own under all
conditions, and carry out any threats they
care to indulge in. They are the supreme
powers -- bearing themselves with an easy fa-
miliarity toward all patrons, and caring for
no one. They are young and old, none beau-
tiful except from a pugilistic stand-point.
The Artist and the Other Pilgrim tried tip-
ping these awful beings, more from a matter
of habit than fear or reverence. Five cents
was accepted with delight and surprise; ten
cents regarded as a bribe for something that
might be unfolded later, but accepted every
time.

     "Your is gents," remarked one man, and
was evidently so sincere that the Other Pil-
grim did not like to hurt his feelings by
firmly denying the allegation. One waiter
forgot to collect for a cigar that was being
smoked by the Other Pilgrim, and when re-
minded of the fact a pathetic expression il-
lumined his countenance. "Dere ain't many
such men on all de island," he exclaimed.
"I never knowed it to happen once before."
And when the Pilgrims went out of that place
they were regarded as curiosities by the
staring waiters near the door. Some of the
waiters resembled ex-prize-fighters, others
were like champions in embryo; but all were
tamed, subdued, and rendered docile by the
nickel gratuity.

     "My brain is in a perfect whirl," sighed
the Artist, as the Pilgrims started to return.
"What do you recall as the prominent fea-
ture of the West End of Coney Island?"

     The Other Pilgrim caressed an Invincible
(purchased at Manhattan), and shook his
head.

     "The cigars," he said, "which are the
worst in the world. I have waited all the
afternoon and evening for a good smoke. I
even begin to understand the counterblast of
James I. -- under some circumstances it might
be forgiven," which was a great deal for the
Other Pilgrim to say, for he was very much
of a smoker.