Timothy J. GilfoyleRezensionen

Outstanding. Very well written. Learned a lot about the city I live in.

Combining two of my reading themes – women of negotiable virtue and the underworld history of large cities – City of Eros is a scholarly study of prostitution in New York from 1790 to 1920. Not very much in the way of titillating text or pictures, alas, although there are a few line drawings of young women shamelessly wearing dresses so short that you can see their ankles. “In olden days a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking ….”, etc.


Despite the lack of material for voyeuristic gratification, there’s some fascinating – and saddening – stuff here. As was usual for the time, public figures blamed prostitution on women, preaching about painted women luring innocent young men into their web of seduction. A disturbing example is the 1836 murder of Helen Jewett, a popular 23-year-old who had her head smashed with a hatchet and was then set on fire while she was still alive. There was pretty much an open-and-shut case against Richard Robinson, a 19-year-old clerk from a respectable family, who was the last person to visit Helen and who managed to leave his bloody cloak and hatchet at the scene. Robinson’s defense was “I was an unprotected boy, without female friends to introduce me to respectable society, sent into a boarding house, where I could enter at what hour I pleased – subservient to no control after the business of the day was over”. He was acquitted. The case may have contributed to a sort of open season on prostitutes in the 1830s, where mobs descended on known brothels, smashed windows and furniture, and sometimes gang-raped the inhabitants – 40 such attacks are cited.


OK, so enough of the blood and thunder – I said author Timothy Gilfoyle’s book was scholarly, and it is. There are a great number of maps showing the distribution of brothels in Manhattan over the years; there’s quite a concentration around the major theaters, especially the Metropolitan Opera House. Another table shows year-by-year tabulations of the number of women in the business, including the percentage of “young women” who were in the trade; this varies from 1% in 1846 to 71% (!) in 1849. Talk about boom and bust. These numbers are only estimates, and seem to suspiciously correlate with whowever was doing the estimating – the totals are always large when estimated by ministers or reformers, but small when estimated by police or aldermen. Perhaps there’s an opportunity for a computer model.


Other tables illustrate the economics. Women on their own in that era – in fact, in every era until the present – had very little opportunity to earn money. An 1839 survey showed 21738 women in the work force, in occupations ranging from milliners to household servants – and 49% were at least occasional prostitutes. The breakdown by trade is fascinating – 79% of umbrella sewers did business on the side, but only 35% of dressmakers. It’s too bad there isn’t information on the average wages in those occupations; what numbers are available are telling – a teenage girl could expect a salary of between $35 and $50 a year; she could get between $10 and $50 dollars for her virginity and between $5 and $20 a week after that. Beats a 12-hour day sewing umbrellas. A table for the decade 1855 to 1865 (from census data) compares the earnings from prostitution in New York with twenty manufacturing industries; prostitution comes in second, just after tailoring and just before silver wire.

The Flash Press, a study of the short-lived but highly consumed “licentious” newspapers of New York City, captures an image of urban society in the early 1840s. The New York of Flash Press is a city of literates but also of rakes, consuming all manner of newspapers, and consequentially such publications of libertine nature. Authors Patricia Cohen, Timothy Gilfolye, and Helen Horowitz not only provide suited discourse of the content and the society of these publications, but through cooperation with the American Antiquarian Society, provide excerpts of literature published by the Flash Press. In doing so, the authors provide a credible and detailed discourse on literature, politics, and gender in 1840s New York.
Flash Press toes the fine line between methods of microhistory and more orthodox historical analysis. While this breach in historiography does result in occasional tonal incongruences (more on that later), it is partially the result of the content at hand; the most unspoken argument at hand is that the deluge of licentious publications in the analysis is ultimately personal, that is to say, uniquely drawn to the narrative of certain important individuals. While Flash Press brings attention to the fact that the content of these newspapers “elevated a handful of these [prostitutes] to celebrity status,” and slandered numerous individuals, the authors make an argument that these papers were a result of a handful of talented, charismatic, and contentious men. Very early in the first half of Flash Press, the authors enumerate these individuals, yet even so, they spend even more time on characters such as William J. Snelling, and George Washington Dixon in particular; large sub-sections of the chapter “Beginnings” is spent on detailed biographies of these people, especially Snelling. To this avail, the authors present a compelling argument—the individuals of Flash Press are fun, dramatic and interesting.
However, the argument of this biographical statement (and the subsequent discussion of the legal challenges authored by New York Flash Press) pales in comparison to the discussion of political and gender theory in the second chapter, entitled “Sexual Politics.” The 1840s Flash Press was uniquely sexual: it was largely comprised of gossip or discussion about the town’s brothels and prostitutes, and Flash publications often had miniature manifestos on homosexuality, abortion, or masturbation. The argument presented in the second chapter, that Flash publications were a manifestation of “libertine republicanism,” is much more interesting and wide-reaching nature. In this chapter, Flash Press investigates an ideology, concluding that despite the “purposely paradoxical” nature of Flash papers, they were at times extraordinarily political, making a profoundly moral statement, the form of which is fascinating. Because of this stark nature of these publications, as well as the large readership Flash papers experienced, the statements of the New York press had impacts on other locations and industries; in fact, two of the primary source documents provided in the book provide commentary on the influence of The Whip, and Flash outside New York.
This is where the aforementioned tonal incongruity fills the limelight. Comparing the theses of these chapters, the reader might find a stark difference between “these people are important,” and “these publications had a nuanced impact on larger discourses on gender and the role of the state.” While agreeing with the later mostly justifies the former (being that the characters in Flash Press did play important historical roles), knowing that William Snelling spoke fluent French seems completely overshadowed by the impact of his publications. Again, this is a remark on the form and substance of Flash Press. An easy critique of the book can be found in measuring the amount of effort given to trivial arguments or facts, compared to the sections that hold much more gravity. Once again, this is why the second chapter stands out: the first is primarily biographical; the third does provide important legal discourse about libel and the first amendment, but given that discussion of gender politics is center to Flash publications (and the second part of the book accordingly), the second chapter stands out as more relevant and important.
The second part containing Flash press excerpts is a wonderful addition to the book. While the excerpts are complementary to the immediate content of the first part, they also stand alone quite well. Of these primary documents, perhaps two of the most intriguing are the “Revival of the Whip,” and “Masturbation.”
“Revival of the Whip,” the first excerpt presented, provides an acute look at the self-aware tone of the Flash press. In “Revival,” the author discusses how the previous editor “has been indicted, tried convicted, and imprisoned for conducting it [the paper] in a truly moral and sedate course,” and then playfully resolves to continue publishing in the same manner. Furthermore, the reasoning for this course of action is grounded in a strong moral compass, as the publishers believe that they ought to publish as they see fit, even though the content of the Whip is considered licentious and dastardly. Given the publishing date (October 1842), the large readership at the time, and the tone of the piece, the author was very aware of the discourse created in the article. While his comrade, George Wooldridge, was imprisoned for publishing, the new editor sought to frame his imprisonment as a tragedy, betting that in such rhetoric, he could sway the court of public opinion to his side.
The discourse on masturbation in Flash is unique for other reasons. Masturbation offers perhaps a break in the libertine republican ideology of the Flash Press, as masturbation could usually be categorized as morally distraught in the same realm of sodomy, adultery, and prostitution. Meanwhile, as Flash would praise and encourage prostitution, it is an interesting to see their justification against masturbation from an ideological perspective: rather than reprimand masturbators for moral reasons, Flash cautions people against the dangers of masturbation: “Such indulge in an unhallowed passion, which, if persisted in, will end in insanity, a broken-down nervous system, or death…” This is important juxtaposed against another primary source Flash publication against homosexuality, which does condemn homosexuality on moral reasons, thus, we can assume that Flash categorized homosexuality and masturbation in different terms. Since prostitution, another “unhallowed passion,” could be judged as passable, masturbation had to be severed from other forms of sodomy to make sure that homosexuality could still be worthy of condemnation.
In addressing the form of The Flash Press, as well as the prior mentioned tonal and argumentative issues, it might be worthy to have the book reorchestrated into something similar to a textbook reader. Being that some of the biographical elements are weaker than the rest, and the primary sources alone justify and warrant arguments already presented in the book, it can be suggested that the primary sources, or at least more references or quotations form said sources, could be integrated into the greater authorship of Flash Press. Otherwise, this book is worthy of reading, as it provides discourse on a unique subject which, in a world of tabloids and changing gender norms, remains highly relevant.½

If any project in Chicago is deserving of a thorough history, it is Millennium Park. Consisting of public art, landscapes, an indoor theater, and outdoor bandshell, a skating rink, a restaurant, and a bike center, all above a huge garage for a couple thousand cars, the park is a massive and complicated project of planning, architecture, engineering and landscape. Its history extends to the middle of the 19th century, when a deal between the city and the Illinois Central Railroad gave the latter a swath of land along the lakefront (then at Michigan Avenue) and created a void in Grant Park for decades. Mayor Richard M. Daley finally managed to wrestle the land from the railway, pushing forward the ambitious plan that cost close to half-a-billion dollars. There is so much to the story and historian Gilfoyle does an excellent job of giving the right amount of detail, from the 19th century railroad to the design of the different park elements.½

I utterly HATED this book. For starters, I know it's non-fiction, but it read like a poorly written textbook. Secondly, It was so all over the place that I had a difficult time staying with it. It didn't hold my attention and, given the option, I would not read this book again. You couldn't PAY me to read this book again, actually. The topics were so scatterbrained and not fully developed. It would, literally, change who the main subject of the section was mid chapter, and wouldn't necessarily tie in Appo until much later. It also got confusing when they were talking about father and son at times. For part of the book, the father was referred to as "Quimbo Appo" or "Appo" and his son wasn't mentioned at all, or was referenced as "his son" or "George Appo". Once he was out of the picture, and they were predominantly discussing the son, he was referred to as "George Appo" or "Appo". Later in the book, when they were reunited, however briefly, they would go back and forth as to who was simply "Appo" and who had their first name interjected before the surname.

Also, had I not already known about some of the places discussed in these pages, I have a good feeling I would not know what was going on or where this guy was. I would say it would be great to use as a reference for a paper, but I'm not sure I'd really be able to find the information I was looking for within these pages again unless I highlighted or used post-its. Finally, in regards to certain facts, it took repetitive to a whole new level. I mean, I thought that The Iliad and Odyssey were repetitive with their constant repetition of epitaphs, but this made those seem like nothing. I honestly had to stop myself a few times because I thought I lost my page and was back a few chapters from the one I was reading. I'm pretty sure I read the same sentence in at least half a dozen places in this book. I jest not. If you aren't required to read it, I wouldn't.

It's an excellent book, highly recommended for not only the biographical aspects, but also for it's extensive look into urban crime, justice and incarceration during the second half of the 19th century. It's not a lighthearted crime story but a serious yet still very readable scholarly work. Extensive notes and references are included and also many interesting illustrations.

Thinking I would get from this book an interesting snapshot of a time and place in history through New York newspapers, I was pleased to discover I received that and much more. The flash press, a 150 year old style of newspaper that exhibited salaciousness, gossip, political undertones, backstabbing, and sexuality, was almost forgotten by history. It was not until 1985 that the papers became known to antiquarians when the American Antiquarian Society convinced George B. Underwood’s son to sell his collection to them. Likely this collection was passed through a chain of sports reporters throughout history to land in Underwood’s possession.

While reading about the licentious content of the papers is fascinating, the real story is much deeper and richer. The editors of the flash press were some of the first in the country to be tried for obscenity and the forerunners of using the First Amendment to defend themselves and their writing. Indeed, their cases helped shape obscenity laws and trials though this fact was almost forgotten. Thirty years before the groundbreaking Comstock laws, the flash press was censored using English common law, causing a big fuss and a short-lived style of newspaper.

Replete with images from the papers and articles reprinted in their entirety, the reader gets a true sense of the social scene of the times. Although the papers of focus in the book were produced in New York City, many more were created in other big cities in the country. What struck me while reading about the content of the papers was how similar we still are to our ancestors when it comes to titillating entertainment. We may have changed formats and codified editorial responsibilities, but we continue to toe the line of acceptable behavior. The difference between the flash press and today’s tabloids is slight. Furthermore, we have not ceased to be tantalized by celebrity or their behaviors, be they good or bad. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Gilfoyle is an accomplished historian and author who wrote the often-cited "City of Eros: New York City, Prostitution, and the Commercialization of Sex, 1790-1920."

In "A Pickpocket's Tale" he examines the world of petty -- and not so petty -- crime in 19th century New York. The centerpiece of the book is George Appo, whose violent father, Quimbo Appo, was "the first Asian ever convicted of a capital crime in New York City" and whose mother was an Irish immigrant.

Gilfoyle uses the unpublished memoir of George Appo, as well as his own exhaustive research, to present a detailed picture of con games, graft, and crime in the 1800s -- and prison life for those that were caught. "A Pickpocket's Tale" combines impeccable historical analysis and great story-telling. I highly recommend it to those who enjoy history that explores everyday life and to anyone with an interest in the American underbelly.

A fascinating look at the life of the demimonde in mid- to late-19th century New York. Gilfoyle follows the life of pickpocket George Appo—a scrappy orphan of Chinese and Irish descent—to provide an engaging social history about the urban poor.

I started reading this book on a trip to North Carolina in January 2007. However, upon my return from the trip, I didn't find myself compelled to finish the book. It just didn't have enough to keep me going.½