Article on Jones's Wood

JONES’S WOOD.  

It is no wonder that this delightful locality has become a favorite resort. It contains 12 acres, and the accommodations for merry-making are more extensive than at any place of similar nature on the island. It lies between Sixty-sixth and Seventy-first sts., and between First-ave. and East River, and is capable of conveniently accommodating guests to the number of fully 20,000, while frequently, on the occasion of unusual festivities, a much larger number have found amusement as well as comfort withing [sic] the limits of its ample grounds. ‘Jones’s Wood’ is itself a misnomer. For instead of a continuous grove, there is a grand park, comprising meadows, lawns, fields, groves, dingles and mossy dells, of great natural advantages, and artistically laid out in broad, graveled walks. Entering the ‘Wood’ by the gateway on First-ave., you proceed by an umbrageous pathway through groves and fine old trees of oak, elm, hickory, tulip, maple and walnut, through whose dense foliage the south wind plays on the ear with a soothing rustle. A few couples lie beneath the spreading shade, with here and there, perhaps, a whole family, mostly Germans, composed of the husband, wife and the inevitable baby with the eternal half-filled lager-beer glasses at their sides.

Further on the grove grows thinner, and gradually opens into a noble lawn, at the lower extremity of which is placed the tall, bullet scarred target where the Scheltzen Corps, in their recent meeting, displayed their efficiency with their hundreds of glittering rifles. The target is at the summit of a pole about forty feet in hight [sic], the top structure being an immense triangle, with the circular target of red and black lines in the center, almost indistinguishable for the bullet marks which scar, dent, blacken and perforate its every square inch.

On the left of this lawn, as you approach the river, is the regular rifle gallery belonging to Mr. Schnilknecht, the lessee of the grounds. It consists of a long, green alley, with a number of targets at one end, with standpoints of different intervals at the other extremity, the ground being a smooth, green sward, and the whole shaded by large oaks and elms.

Further on, the trees again begin to throng the path on either side, and the large building of the Jones’ Wood hotel, with its white piazzas, great stables and various subordinate establishments is the next object of interest. The hotel itself is very German and very good. Lager is the main stimulant, but white and Rhein wines and weis-beer are also favorite beverages. The hotel is almost on the river-shore, but behind it, and immediately between it and the bank, is the dancing platform. This is the largest of its kind in the city. It is 125 feet long and 110 feet wide, a portion of it being built upon trestle-work, with the calm following river running and murmuring beneath its outer side. The music stand, at one end, is lofty, circular and not inelegant, with accommodations for a large number of musicians.

On the left, or northern side of the platform, are the bowling-alleys, the billiard tables, the shooting galleries, etc., with another bar-room, and another handsome verandah facing the river but filled with benches and tables and not designed for dancing. On certain occasions, however, these incumbrances are cleared away, and even this verandah is devoted to the ‘light fantastic.’ There are three billiard tables, and the bowling-alleys are five in number. These are in operation of Sunday, but by the rules and regulations of the premises, music is hushed and dancing forbidden on the Sabbath.

THE SWINGS.

On the right or south side of the woods, and near the river, are a large number of drinking booths, where wine and lager or stronger stimulants, are extensively dispensed for a consideration. Here also are the swings. They are some twenty in number, and are the most approved style, being put and kept in motion by the persons seated in either end of the oscillating car. Almost all people like to swing—boys and girls and children of an older growth. There is something free and glorious. There is a wild abandon in the breezy undulating rush of the swaying cars, with now the wind in your face and then taking its coolness in the back of your head, which is almost enchanting. The Germans are especially fond of this amusement. To see a party of them—say two men, three women and as many children—taking a ride of this kind, is to catch a glimpse of genuine enjoyment. They start slowly, but with vigor, amid sundry exclamations. The velocity is rapidly increased, until at length the extremity of speed is attained. The children struggle, squeal and get scared. The men shout, roar and laugh lustily. The women fall into their arms for protection. They give little shrieks, ‘ahs!’ and ‘ohs!’ Their mantillas become disarranged, their petticoats blow up, they display their ancles [sic], sometimes their calves, they become flurried and frightened; bonnets become loosened; hats blow off; the swing threatens to make a clear somersault through the branches above and spill its precious burden. But Dietrich, a swing-proprietor, makes a dive and grabs one end of the rushing car. Hans, another swing-proprietor makes another dive and grabs the other end. They run with it, are dragged and pushed by it; but they dig their heels and toes in the ground and cling on like grim death, and presently the great pendulum is brought to a stand still and the men and little ones descend assisting down after them the panting Deena and Katrina and Willelmina, who blushingly arrange their skirts, feeling pretty cool beneath them, with plenty experience for the subject matter of a long letter to the Faderlandt. 

THE HOBBY HORSES.

The Hobby Horses are also an institution. They consist of a number of wooden figures which by the aspect of their tails are evidently intended to represent horses, placed in a circle around a large hole in the center, and upon being set in motion by a species of simple machinery, they slowly begin to move after the manner of circus steeds. Beforehand they are generally mounted, mostly by girls and women, and as they increase in speed the scene borders on the hilarious. Faster and faster whirl the wooden steeds. The young riders begin to lose their confidence. They clutch the flying manes with their hands and the sweeping tails with their feet, nervously gripping the flanks with their knees, and, if Dutch and under five years old, usually squall for mercy to the extent of their lungs. But the older parties like the fun. The girls of sixteen boldly sit their saddles, regardless of appearances. Their broad-trimmed hats blow off, but they take the ribbons in their teeth and let them blow; they lose their waterfalls, but appear oblivious; perchance beneath the waterfall a big ball of hair, which resembles an eggplant, also becomes disarranged—the interior solidity departs, it collapses, and the natural hair streams out alone; but they let it stream. Their crinolines take the wind and make great ‘cheeses’ high above the ground; but the weather is hot and the winds grateful [illeg.] let them cheese. The elderly women take their exercise more leisurely. They tie on their bonnets with their handkerchiefs, lean forward in their seats and receive the wind on the outside of their skirts. Presently, at the hight [sic] of their merriment, a signal is given, the first pony comes to a walk with innumerable jerks, the others bring up gradually, there is a crunching of straining cranks, and the riders reach their destination, having ridden a mile or two without stirring thirty feet from the place whence they started.

 There are many of these hobby horse circuses at Jones’s Wood. The exercise is not quite so violent as that of the swing, is swift in motion, with scarcely an effort on the part of the participants, and it is no wonder that. In this heated form, it should be such a favorite amusement with the pleasure-seekers.

POP-GUN GALLERIES

Which are so much in vogue at present. Sometimes the largest target consists of the usual circle of many lines of alternate black and white; sometimes it is a clay pipe in the mouth of an uncouth effigy representing the hero of Donnybrook Fair, or an Ethiopian jig-dancer. As the range is not very great—rarely exceeding 30 feet—considerable dexterity in marksmanship is acquired by the tyro in a short time. Pop goes the spring gun, and the little pewter slug, tufted with red cotton, quivers in the first or second ring of the target, or, fortunately, in the bull’s eye, ringing a little bell, and letting you off, for the price of your four shots—10 cents. With the pipe for the target, the novice is at first wide of the mark. One shot after another pinks the image in various parts of the body—the shoe, the calf of the leg, the stomach, the third rib, and then in the handle to its face, the mouth, the cheek—all around the coveted pipe, with tantalizing proximity, until at length snap goes the pipe into a hundred pieces, and, if not the winner of a Derby, you have the satisfaction of having hit a pretty large mark with a pop-gun at ten paces. Some of the drawbacks to this otherwise innocent amusement are the little boys who run up to pry out your missiles as fast as they are driven into the planks, and then stand only two or three inches away from the line of your next shot, putting you in constant dread of knocking their eyes or teeth out with the next shot.

 TWO  MONSTROSITIES. 

Not the least attractions of the Wood at the present time are two singular specimens of the freaks of nature, on exhibition, in a small enclosure, at ten cents a sight. 

One of these is a cow with five legs. The legs are all there, but not particularly well formed. The cow has a swelled head and doesn’t seem to like it much. The intelligent keeper confidently assured the spectators that the cow was with calf, which would be shortly forth-coming, with four legs perfectly formed. He was evidently in the habit of viewing the new moon and the gospel truth over his left shoulder.

The other lucus natural is a triple-headed beast, representing respectively the cow, the bull and the calf. This cheerful animal is covered with sores, eats hay with one mouth, corn and grass with another, and drinks lager beer with the third, all at the same time and without any inconvenience. According to the exhibitor, its digestive organs are constantly in perfect order. 

QUIETER AMUSEMENTS.

The old frequenter of the Wood, however, the stolid German of family and reputation, seldom avails himself of the exciting pastimes derived from the swing, the bowling-alley, the billiard-table, the hobby-horse or the pop-gun. He is content to take his seat at one of the tables, on the riverward side of the dancing platform, and there smoke his pipe and get outside of his lager, with only a dreamy consciousness of his own importance, of the singing birds rustling branches and murmurs of waters. His eyes are half shut. He is protected from the sunshine by the overshadowing trees, but he knows that it is bright on the waters of the near-flowing stream. Or, perhaps, he throws a sleepy glance out over the water, and sees the steamers going up and down with their jolly throngs of pleasure-seekers on every deck. He sees the broad-sailed schooners going swiftly by him on the dark tide that ebbs so strongly to the sea, or, looking across the green narrow-strip of Blackwell’s Island, he only sees their top-sails moving amid trees and Work-house chimneys like phantoms through the air. He hears the mellow murmur of the ripples on the rocks and sands below, and the lisping rustle of the winds through the branches above, where 

‘The topmost elm-tree gathers green

From draughts of balmy air.’

He hears the soft voices of his companions near, with perchance the sound of a flute or violin floating through the forest far away. He hears the clink of glasses, the sweep of the lucifer match upon upon the sanded floor, the steady puff of the smoker, the prattle of children from a distant slope, the light kissing of billiard balls, the far-off fall of tenpins and the birds of the forest, more cheery than all. He hears, he sees, he feels, he thinks dreamfully, and dreams thoughtfully, and is lapped in content and happiness.

This is the elderly German’s ideal of a Sunday afternoon—his earthly paradise. He likes it better than being at home and better than being at church, and probably gets more good in this way than he could attain by any other means.   

SUNDAY AFTERNOON.

Though there is no music or dancing, the Sabbath is the principal day of festivity at Jones’s Wood. An excellent dock is erected just below the hotel, and boats on their way to Harlem Bridge land three times during the day. Besides the Second and Third-ave. Railroads run within walking distance almost every five minutes. At about 3 o’clock, p. m., the throngs are densest. In pleasant weather, scarcely less than 6,000 people congregate here every Sunday. Both sexes are represented almost equally, and the visitors comprise many classes and all nationalities. The Irish are as much at home as the Germans; the swings oscillate to their full capacity; the hobby horses dash round their ring, the pop-guns pop, the bowlers bowl, and merriment reigns supreme. A noticeable difference, however, is to be observed between the Irish and German guests. The merry day of the former almost invariably ends in a row. Black eyes, bloody noses and aching bones with them appears to be a necessary encomium to the other proceedings, and the station-house is their final resting place. The fast men of our own country are next to the Hibernians in this respect, and seem to be quite as fond of disfiguring the physiognomies of their fellows, and being disfigured in turn. But the German is entirely different. He talks loudly, gesticulates earnestly, and even frowns angrily, but he seldom or never comes to blows. The phlegmatism of his disposition underlies his effervescence, as the deep, golden, mellow soul of wine underlies the bubbling froth of its sparkling surface. The consequence is that the attendant policemen have little need for even a smattering of the German tongue—most of the protestations and oaths with which they have to deal being usually a broad volley of square Saxon, or enriched with the rich brogue that bespeaks the native of Erin.

THE SINGERFEST CELEBRATION

The ninth annual Singerfest—the most universal of our German celebrations—will commence at Jones’s Wood next Saturday, and continue to the following Thursday. It is expected by the proprietor of the grounds that upward of 25,000 persons will participate. There will be delegates from every State of the Union, as well as numerous representatives from the old country. The amplest preparations are being made and everything will probably be the greatest gala day ever held by the Germans in this country.”