In his folksy 1903 memoir Plunkitt of Tammany Hall, the very skilled ring democrat George Washington Plunkitt eloquently defended the manner in which so many politicians got rich off of taxpayer dollars.
He states, “My party’s in power in the city, and it’s goin’ to undertake a lot of public improvements. Well, I’m tipped off, say, that they’re going to lay out a new park at a certain place. I see my opportunity and I take it. I go to that place and I buy up all the land I can in the neighborhood. Then the board of this or that makes its plan public, and there is a rush to get my land, which nobody cared particular for before. Ain’t it perfectly honest to charge a good price and make a profit on my investment and foresight? Of course, it is. Well, that’s honest graft.”
It was graft to be sure – but it was honest graft.
While we are impatient to see the reopening of our beloved Coffey Park, we should at least be thankful that we don’t have to wait as long as the citizens of Red Hook did when the plans for the park were first announced. Nearly an entire decade elapsed from the time the land for the park was purchased and when the gates finally opened. The reason for that long delay had a lot to do with its location and a simple matter of good old fashioned “honest” graft.
Michael J. Coffey wanted a park. It was 1892 and he had been Alderman of Brooklyn’s 12th ward for about 8 years, was now President of the Board of Aldermen and a highly influential figure in Brooklyn politics. Red Hook was a busy industrial neighborhood without a public recreation area and Coffey wanted his constituents to have a place to stroll, relax, and breathe fresh air. He told Parks Commissioner George Brower he didn’t care where it was, so long as it was in his district.
As if by coincidence, shortly after Coffey made his intentions known to Brower (but before anything had been made public), a humble machinist by the name of Frank S. Roake began purchasing land in a very specific area of Red Hook, just a few square blocks in area, bounded by Dwight, Richards, Verona and King Streets. It wasn’t very desirable land – it was a swamp. The surface was six feet below the level of the street, frequently used as a dumping ground for ashes, cans, bottles, scrap metal, and other refuse. It was also filled with water, sometimes to a depth of five feet and undoubtedly polluted with the run-off and effluvium of decades of industrial waste.
He purchased as much “land” in that area he could from three different property owners who had held the deed in their families for generations, not thinking it to be of much value. Because it was a swampy dumping ground, Roake got it on the cheap. In the three transactions, conducted between June 10 and August 1, he purchased a total of 134 lots for $56,500 or roughly $421 each – about ten dollars less per lot than the value the city put on the land for taxation purposes.
While a savvy investor may have held onto the purchase a bit long, Roake started selling it off before he even finished buying it. On July 10 he transferred 110 lots to a widow named Ellen Fullerton for $75,000, making a tidy profit. Interestingly, that same day, the good widow sold a portion of those lots (⅛ of a block or about 12.75 lots) to a man named John O’Brien for the magnanimous price of $1.00. On August 1, Roake sold 6 lots to a woman named Carrie Mesick for $1.00 – the same day he purchased them for $6,000, taking a staggering loss of $5,999. The high stakes world of real estate investment were apparently too much for Miss Mesick though, for later on that month she would sell those 6 lots to Ellen Fullerton for the same price she paid, $1.00, thus breaking even and bowing from the scene. The big Three Card Monte game ends on November 13 when Roake sells the last of his holdings to Fullerton, 18 lots purchased from the Bergen Estate, again for the nominal price of $1.00.
All these $1.00 transactions were simply what was recorded on paper. This was a ploy to prevent people from knowing who really paid what to whom. It was all smoke and mirrors – using intermediaries to get the land from the original holders to those who would ultimately reap the profit.
Just a few days after the last transaction between Roake and Fullerton, the City of Brooklyn purchased 70 of Fullerton’s lots and all of O’Brien’s for a grand total of $120,166 or about $1,450 a piece – more than three times their assessed value.
The Brooklyn Daily Eagle broke the story in January 1893 highlighting a number of remarkable coincidences and relationships between the buyers and Michael J. Coffey. Roake and Mesick were simply dummy buyers who likely got paid off – Roake with the $18,500 profit and Mesick with an unknown amount. Those who profited most however, were more well connected.
John O’Brien was one of Michael Coffey’s right hand men in the Twelfth Ward. He was not an elected official himself, but a friend and associate who happened to be a liquor dealer. In the 19th century, barkeepers and liquor dealers were powerful political allies to have in one’s corner, particularly in New York, where saloons were often political headquarters and repeat voters could be bought for the price of a few drinks.
Ellen Fullerton turned out to be the sister of P.H. Flynn, another close associate and business partner of Coffey. In 1892, Coffey and Flynn were managing an electric rail company together. Flynn had also previously demonstrated a remarkable talent for “guessing” where parks would be placed in other areas of Brooklyn, buying low from owners and selling high to the city. With Fullerton at the center of the Red Hook Park deal, one might argue that this talent ran in the family – but the safe money would be on her having inside information from here dear brother.
When confronted with these remarkable circumstances, the party line was to deny any wrongdoing. Parks Commissioner Brower, who had paid the outrageously inflated price, Mayor Boody who had authorized him to do so, and of course Alderman Coffey himself all remained steadfast in their statements that Roake had simply made a wise investment at the right time and that they felt the city got the land for a fair price.
It was in this way that the parties involved got away with charging Brooklyn $120,000 for 78 lots worth about $33,000. Unfortunately, because the land for the most part wasn’t actually land yet, it would take another $1.5-2 million and 8 years to drain, fill, plant and develop before the park could be opened to the public.
At long last, on June 15, 1901, after nearly a decade of insider politics, bond sales, pork-barrel spending, and awarding nearly all work contracts to favored firms, the park was opened – a true product of honest Brooklyn graft. Park Commissioner George Brower and Former Mayor David Boody, both of whom had been instrumental in helping Coffey bring about the creation of the park, addressed the assembly at its opening. Coffey himself however, was conspicuously absent.
Coffey had recently had a falling out with many of his former allies by blocking the nomination of a candidate for Kings County Register, causing a rift in the democratic party. While the park was largely a result of his own efforts and had been popularly called Coffey Park by residents since it was announced, the Democratic leaders who had the honor of cutting the ribbon dubbed it Red Hook Park. The name would not be officially changed for decades to come.
