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Note: 149-g7Le7 Clinton7 Huggins Leggett born July 26, 1847 in Rose Bank, Westchester (now Bronx) NY
died 1937 in Asbury Park, NJ, buried in Woodlawn Cemetery Bronx, NY
married April 17, 1883 to Josephine Louise Morgan
born 1851
died 1937, buried in Woodlawn Cemetery Bronx, NY
They had no children.
For many years the Leggett family established themselves as merchants in the Bronx River area before setting up shop in the busy East River section of lower Manhattan. Thomas Leggett started his business there in 1780 at the corner of Pearl Street (then Queen Street) and Peck Slip. In 1781 he bought 307 Pearl Street, and his son William H. bought 301 Pearl Street in 1834, later building the building occupied by Leggett Bros. Clinton H. and E. Howard jointly owned this building. The foundation stones of 301 Pearl came from Leggett's Point (149th Street) in what is now the Bronx. An old business ledger begun in 1793 includes many customers by the name of Leggett. The business closed in 1927 when E. Howard died. Other Leggett relations also had businesses in the Pearl Street area over the years. In 1910 Clinton H. and his wife Josephine were living at 73 East 92nd Street, Manhattan. She died first. His last years were marred by long illness, necessitating the expending of all his resources. His housekeeper, Jean McLeod, had to move him to less expensive quarters. He was buried in the John Morgan plot, Woodlawn Cemetery, the Bronx.
Family records of the Rev. John M. Leggett
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New York City Directory, 1890
Leggett Clinton H. drugs, 301 Pearl, h 28 W. 128th
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Leggett, Clinton H
Age: 83 Year: 1930 Birthplace: New York Roll: T626_1560 Race: White Page: 13B State: New York ED: 514 County: New York Image: 0597 Township: Manhattan Relationship: Head :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The New York Times, 15 and 16 July 1937
Deaths
LEGGETT-At Oakhurst, N. J., on July 13, 1937, Clinton H. Leggett, husband of the late Josephine L. Leggett, formerly of New York City. Funeral services at Woodlawn Cemetery, New York City, on Friday, July 16, at 11 A. M.
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No. 73 East 92nd Street (as of 1999). Clinton and his wife Josephine Louise (Morgan) lived here from before 1900 until probably at least 1927, when Leggett & Brother closed, but previous to 1934. In the newspaper accounts of his nephew, Milton William's wedding in Washington, D.C. in September 1925, he is still listed as "of New York." Josephine died in 1927, and he died in 1937 after a long period of illness that required his housekeeper, Jean McLeod, to move him to less expensive quarters, perhaps Asbury Park, New Jersey. The only clue we have is from an affidavit found in the records of Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx, a copy of which we obtained on a visit there in 1993, sworn by Clinton’s nephew Howard Clapp Leggett before a Bronx notary public on 5 March 1934, in which he sets forth the heirs of his grandfather Thomas B. Leggett. Howard was residing in Elizabeth, New Jersey at the time, most likely at the home of his mother Georgiana Clapp Leggett on 450 North Broad Street. He lists his Uncle Clinton’s residence only as Asbury Park, New Jersey. We do not know if Clinton moved to Asbury Park directly from his house in Manhattan. Perhaps the sea air was expected to do him good.
Unfortunately, Clinton’s New York townhouse was located too close to Park Avenue, and so was torn down to make way for the apartment building, 1160 Park Avenue. Just to the west, most of the entire block of townhouses is intact, on both sides of the street, the last surviving townhouse on the north side being No. 65. The area is still a fashionable neighborhood, and has retained its character very well. A sign placed by the New York Landmarks Preservation Foundation near the corner of East 91st Street and Park Avenue proclaims the area the Carnegie Hill Historic District:
CARNEGIE HILL HAS RETAINED ITS LOW RISE MIDBLOCK DOMESTIC CHARACTER SINCE IT WAS FIRST DEVELOPED IN THE 1880’S FOLLOWING THE EXTENSION OF THE THIRD AVENUE ELEVATED RAILROAD NORTH IN 1881. WHEN ANDREW CARNEGIE BUILT HIS GRAND ENGLISH PALLADIAN-STYLE HOUSE NEARBY AT THE CORNER OF EAST 91ST STREET AND FIFTH AVENUE IN 1901, THE NEIGHBORHOOD BROWNSTONE NEO-GREC ROW HOUSES OF THE 1870’S WERE SLOWLY SUPPLANTED BY THE SLIGHTLY GRANDER FRENCH NEO-CLASSICAL AND FEDERAL-STYLE HOUSES OF THE 1910’S AND 1920’S.
So Uncle Clinton was here to see Andrew Carnegie build his big house, just a few blocks away. Carnegie’s house, as well as those of other so-called "robber barons," have also long since disappeared from the scene. On the southern side of 92nd is the parish hall of the Brick Presbyterian Church. It was in the original building of Brick Presbyterian Church (the New York Public Library presently occupies its site) that Uncle Clinton’s grandfather, William Haight Leggett, married Margaret Peck Wright on 28 December 1814, for which he was thrown out of Quaker Meeting on 1 March 1815. Our branch of the Leggett family has been Episcopalian ever since. The present church is a handsome Georgian brick building built in 1938, according to the cornerstone on the left side. It has an 18th century cornerstone mounted in the wall of some sort of chapel on the right side.
Source:
St. Paul’s K Street Choir and Leggett History Tour
to New York City 18-21 June 1999
David J. Leggett, Julia H. C. Leggett
and son William H. S. Leggett (in utero)
Burial in the Leggett/Morgan Plot, Brookside Section, Section 21, SW 11473, Woodlawn Cemetery.
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Letter No. 18 of Clinton's father, Thomas B. Leggett, to his grandson, son of Clinton's brother, Edward. All such surviving letters may be found by consulting the chart under the Notes for Thomas:
293 Lenox Ave.
New York, N.Y.
June 25, 1892
My dear Grandson,
Howard C. Leggett,
I am now well into my seventieth year and if you are not tired with my talks, I will say, if you should be asked why we celebrate the 4th of July, what would you answer? I will tell you what my answer would be. The history is brief, but important, and soon told. The treatment of the English government to its colonies in this country had become so oppressive and unjust, that early in the year 1776, Washington wrote, "A reconciliation with Great Britain is impossible."
On June 7th, 1776 Richard Henry Lee moved in Congress that, "These united colonies are, and of right ought to be free and independent states." This motion was immediately adopted. On June 28, 1776, the Declaration of Independence was drafted by Thomas Jefferson, which received the unanimous vote of every delegate and immediately signed by all the 56 members present, representing the thirteen American Colonies, on July 4, 1776. From that date to the present time, the 4th of July of every year has been celebrated as the day we declared our full independence from Great Britain. If you have not already read the Declaration of Independence and made yourself acquainted with it, you certainly should do so, for every true American boy should not only read it, but should know it by heart.
Of course you know all about Thanksgiving Day, but did it occur to you what were the circumstances that originated it? In case you do not happen to remember, I will just say, "Thanksgiving Day is an American institution." It originated in this way. After the first harvest of the New England colonists in 1621, Governor Bradford, who was the governor of the little colony, made provision for their rejoicing together over the result with praise and prayer, and this custom has prevailed in several of the New England states to this day. George Washington, when he was president, recommended a day be appointed each year for thanksgiving, and his example has been generally followed by subsequent presidents. Abraham Lincoln made a proclamation in 1863 for a national observance of Thanksgiving for the last Thursday of November of each and every year. Since that time, it has been commonly issued by the President, sanctioned by the appointment of this day by the governors of the different states of the Union, so now the last Thursday in November of every year is a legal holiday.
You have often, I suppose, heard of Evacuation Day. I will now tell you how that came about to be a day of celebration. After the Revolutionary War had been in progress from April 19, 1775 to the Battle of Yorktown, October 19, 1781, the English government had made every effort to put it down and subdue the colonies, the Battle of Yorktown was so disastrous to the English troops, Lord Cornwallis, who was in command, was compelled to surrender to General Washington, which practically ended the war, and peace was declared, and the articles signed in Paris, September 3, 1783. New York, having been in the hands of the British, was evacuated by the troops who were under Henry Clinton, and sailed for England November 25, 1783, and every year from that date, November 25th has been observed and celebrated as Evacuation Day.
New Year’s Day, or the first day of the year, is of very old origin. It was observed as a day of feasting and rejoicing during that ancient period of the Jews, Egyptians, Chinese and Romans, although differing in the time. In ancient Rome, the year began in March, later altered to January. On the establishment of Christianity, it was several times changed, first to March 1st, then to March 25th, and again to January 1st.
It was not, however, until late in the 16th century, that January 1st was fully accepted, and universally observed as the first day of the year. From the earliest record, it has been kept as a day for making calls on friends and exchanging of presents. In some countries, this is yet the custom, as well as sitting up till twelve o’clock at night to see the old year go out and the new year come in; which you must look upon as a very foolish custom. In England and America, the keeping and observing of New Year’s Day for making of calls has entirely died out, as well as that of giving and receiving of gifts on that day. Christmas has now entirely superseded New Year’s Day for Christmas gifts, although, when I was a boy, all gifts were made on New Year’s, and we knew little or nothing of Christmas.
During the years of the Revolutionary War, from 1775 to 1783, a period of seven years, New York City, during all that time, was in possession of the British. The American army, at the same time, was quartered at White Plains in New York state and Morristown in New Jersey. The latter was headquarters for military stores of all kinds. All the territory between New York City and White Plains, including the extensive farm of my great grandfather, Thomas Leggett [(1721-after 1781)] of West Farms, was known as neutral, or debatable ground, for the reason that it lay between the two armies, neither army cared to risk a battle to get possession of it. The English troops would come up from their camp to forage and pillage anything they could lay their hands on; the American troops would come down from White Plains to protect the inhabitants from this wholesale pillaging of the British; so there were constant little skirmishes taking place between the two camps. This debatable ground was also infested with what was then known as "Cow-boys" and "Skinners". These were two different gangs of desperate marauders, who infested all that part of the country, with a semblance of patriotism, but were guilty of every grade of offense, from simple theft up to murder. They would rob and steal from both armies, and lived upon their thefts from the inhabitants. You must read Cooper’s "Spy", when you will get a better idea of this neutral ground I am writing about. All about the country were hostile bands of Indians in the pay of the British, who were constantly moving about and annoying the inhabitants in many ways. The bears and wolves were also very bold from hunger, and destructive to the farmers’ young stock. The people living in the neutral or debatable district were allowed to remain unmolested by both armies, so long as they kept perfectly neutral, and gave no aid or comfort to either side; but so far as their crops and cattle were concerned, they were constantly plundered by English troops as well as by the bands of Cow-Boys and Skinners. So between the English troops that constantly surrounded them and kept them in, and the warlike bands of Indians that infested the woods, with the Skinners and Cow-boys constantly stealing from them, they had a hard time of it.
One dark night, when all the family was asleep, a party of British soldiers under the command of Colonel Delaney surrounded the Leggett mansion and took possession of it, with all its contents and other farm property, saying they were accused of being spies and giving information to the American forces at White Plains. The family without notice were driven out in the dead of night to seek shelter wherever they could find it. My grandfather, [Thomas Leggett (1755-1843)] who was at the time some nineteen years old, was seized with his two brothers, and made prisoners of war, and conveyed,
under the charge of a band of Indians to General Burgoyne’s camp, then at Saratoga. His two brothers were then sent yet further on to the Fort Edward, near Lake George. [Thomas had at that time three living brothers, any two of which could have been with him at this time: Gabriel, (1743-1838), Joseph (1748-1803), and Isaac (1752-1823).] After a long while of confinement, my grandfather with another prisoner of war, effected their escape, and immediately made for the woods, hiding in hay stacks, under barns and other places by day, traveling only at night, begging food and perhaps shelter as best they could, suffering much from cold, hunger and fatigue; liable at any moment to be picked up by British spies and scouts, or tomahawked by brutal savages.
After working his way for some distance, he was obliged to come to a halt to better ascertain his whereabouts. Working, when he could, for his living, and watching his opportunity to proceed on his journey. His great anxiety to hear something definite of his father and mother, as well as his brothers, decided him to again take to the woods and work his way down to White Plains, where he supposed the American army was yet encamped. In those days there were no such things as mails, and no possible way to convey letters, and no possible way to obtain information but by private hand, and then to run the risk of capture by British scouts or Indian spies. After much hardship and suffering from fatigue, hunger and cold, he reached the banks of the Hudson River opposite the little village of Hudson, knowing that a band of Indians were close on his trail and would certainly capture him if halted only for a few moments, taking him back to the English camp for the reward that was offered for him. He was forced, as cold as it was, to throw himself in the river to make the attempt to swim across, which he did none to soon. This chilled him to the bone, but he reached the opposite bank in safety, and hid himself in the thick woods, traveling by night and hiding by day to avoid capture. When he reached White Plains it was to learn that the war was about over. He immediately started for his father’s place, but what a sight he was to see. His father’s comfortable house with all its contents, burnt to the ground by the British marauding troops, many of the noble old trees cut down to furnish fuel for the general camp, the fences demolished for temporary camp fires, the cattle and horses driven away, and the furniture scattered about. About all that was left of the house were the foundation walls. All was ruin and desolation about him, a sad sight, indeed, for a young son to look upon.
On these same foundation walls, on which stood his father’s [Thomas Leggett (1721-after 1781)] house, my grandfather erected his house and lived in it all his days. In this house all his large family of six sons and six daughters was born; and in this same house my grandfather and [step]grandmother [Mary Underhill Leggett] died [1843 and 1849, respectively], all of which I remember perfectly well. When I was a boy, some of my most happy days were passed under the roof of this old house. Now, strange to say, this same house of my grandfather was also burned to the ground after a period of near one hundred years, [1870s?] and was never built up again, but I remember it well with all its surroundings.
I trust this letter will not prove dull and stupid to you in the reading of it, but on the contrary, it will interest you, and that you may be able to extract some little information from it, is the wish of your
Grandfather,
Thomas B. Leggett
Post Script. I have thought it might not be amiss to lengthen this letter out a few pages and tell you about our Rose Bank winters and what we boys would do with ourselves. In writing you these many letters of little incidents of my boyhood days, as well as much that is a matter of history, but which you cannot always get out of books, I may not, at times, be as happy in my selections to please you as I might be, but as I have said in former letters, it is a very difficult thing to write letters which will always give pleasure in reading. It is not always in our power to so word what we write so as to exactly express what we wish to say. This will now be the sixteenth letter I have written you, and I question if you ever had a correspondent who has written you as much - and now I will go on with my history of early days.
During the winter months at Rose Bank of sixty years ago, we had much colder winters than we have now, much more snow and always an abundance of ice. I have known snow to be on the ground from November to April; in fact we would often have sleighing until we all became heartily tired of it; and as for ice, there was never any scarcity of it, and we could fill an ice house at any time during the winter season. During these long winter months, we boys would have grand good times in many ways. One of our enjoyments and pleasures was in sliding down hill. I suppose you know all about this kind of winter sport. We would do it this way. The farm house at Rose Bank was situated on quite a rising piece of ground, sloping gradually down and off over the lots for quite a distance, making just the kind of hill for sliding. We boys would all go to work and shovel a straight road about three feet wide, packing the snow down as hard as we could. Then get a plank some eight feet long, and fasten one of our wooden sleds to each end. After getting it to the proper place on the top of the hill, we would all get on, sitting as close as we could with our arms around each other’s waist to better keep on. When all was ready, away we would go down the hill with the speed of a racehorse, running a long way over the lot below. Now if you have never gone down a hill in this manner, you are yet to know how exciting and dangerous it is.
The grandest of all our winter sports, and the most exciting and dangerous of them all, was in skating on the East River when it was frozen over. During the years of 1830 to 1840, there was comparatively little travel on this river during the winter months, to what there is in these days. All the freight was carried to the small towns by sloop. There were but four large paddle wheel steam boats on the East River during the ten years from 1830 to 1840, and they carried both freight and passengers from New York to New London, Hartford, as well as Providence; for there was not a railroad then in existence in this part of the country. These steam boats would stop all along the river to take on or let off passengers. If we had a severe winter, which was generally the case sixty years ago, the river would be closed by ice, and what vessels were caught remained there until the ice broke up. Then there was not enough travel by steam boat to keep the river open, as is now the case. The steam propeller was not known when I was a boy, and did not come into general use until the year 1840. The little sloop, therefore, held its own in carrying freight to the small towns and villages well up to the year 1850. When we skated on the river, we always carried a light pole, some eight to ten feet long, which we held in both our hands in front of us, so if we should get into one of those dreadful air holes, this pole would hold us up, and keep us from getting under the ice, until help should come. If the tide were strong and the ice should give way about us, we would be in great danger. Skating on a large river of salt water ice is far more dangerous and quite a different affair from skating on a pond of fresh water ice, for fresh water ice is as strong again as salt water ice. The water of a pond is quiet and never disturbed, so the ice keeps solid and stationary, whereas, in a large salt water river, the water is never quiet. The tide rises and falls, which disturbs and weakens the ice, causing it to crack and break. The wind suddenly comes up, setting the broken ice in motion; the waves begin to rise and follow the wind under the ice, making a noise like distant thunder. As the ice snaps and cracks in large cakes, oftentimes one cake will be pushed up over on the others, making the whole surface in heaps and ridges.
If, when skating, you get caught on one of these large cakes of ice, and find yourself floating off from you companions, you are in a very perilous predicament. If you have neglected to bring a small and light boat with you, your case is almost hopeless. There is no more horrible feeling of despair to be placed in, than to find yourself suddenly separated from your friends, and floating off with the tide on a solitary cake of ice, going every moment farther away out to sea; the wind blowing, the cold increasing, your feet and hands freezing, the waves tumbling and rolling along, tossing and pitching the cake of ice about with increasing force, and you at the mercy of the cold and angry sea. Under these circumstances, you are perfectly helpless, and if ever succor does not speedily come, you are lost forever; and many a noble and brave young lad has lost his life in this manner.
There was another dangerous sport indulged in, which I will now relate. There were long stretches of salt meadow on parts of the shore at Rose Bank, covering a great number of acres. During the severe southeast rain and wind storms which prevailed during the winter months, the water would be forced up by the power of the wind and tide, covering these meadows. If the weather, then, should come out bitter cold, the water covering these meadows would be frozen over in one solid sheet of smooth ice. We would then rig up a long and strong wooden sled, with mast and sail to it, having a pole running out the back as a rudder. When all was ready, we would seat ourselves on the sled, holding on one to the other; set the sail to the wind, and let her slide; and go she would, with the speed of a steam engine. The great danger of this sport is, when you have to change your course or come about, you are moving over the ice at such a great speed, that if the runner should happen to touch the least little obstacle on the ice, over the sled will go and all hands be thrown out sprawling on the ice. You might consider yourself lucky if not hurt. In the meantime, the wind has taken your sled far away, and you can only run after it and catch it if you can. I will say, the boys of sixty years ago did not have the pretty sleds of those days, and as for skates, they were very poor and common affairs. I have seen colored boys, who had no money to buy skates, take the breast bone of a goose and fasten it to their shoes and skate beautifully; in fact, they were the best and most graceful skaters on the pond.
I have seen those meadows, after one of those severe easterly storms, when the tied had been unusually high, and the wind blowing a perfect gale, work its way up and under the great bed of ice then over the meadow, breaking it into great cakes, forcing and pushing one up over the other, often as much as eight feet high, forming these piles into all manner of shapes, with great gaps between, making the whole picture similar to that of the Arctic regions.
I suppose you will think we had some very rough and dangerous sports when I was a boy. Well, we did indeed, and I confess to you that I would be afraid to do those same things now. Living, as we did, on such an extensive place, our pleasures were mostly in the woods with gun and dog, on the water with sail boat and dory, fishing perhaps, or on the road with horse and wagon. Now I will bid you goodbye for the summer, hoping you will keep well and have a pleasant vacation, I am your
Grandfather,
Thomas B. Leggett
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STATE OF NEW YORK )
: ss
COUNTY OF NEW YORK )
RICHARD T. GREENE, being duly sworn, deposes and says:
I am senior member of the firm of Greene & Greene, attorneys and counselors-at-law, of No. 61 Broadway, Borough of manhattan, city of New York.
Clinton H. Leggett, late of the Borough of Manhattan, died on the 13th day of July, 1937, the owner or part owner of plot in Woodlawn Cemetery designated as lot Southwest part of Number 11,473, in Section 21, all of which said plot or lot is intended to be and is for the exclusive interment of the remains of said Clinton H. Leggett and his wife, Josephine Louise Leggett, his wife's mother, Margaret Morgan, his wife's father, John J. Morgan, and his sister, Florence H. Lesley, all of whom are now dead.
By the terms of his will dated October 18, 1928, the decedent gives, devises and bequeaths all his right, title and interest in and to said cemetery plot to the Woodlawn Cemetery, to be preserved and kept by it for the use and purpse above mentioned and no other, absolutely and forever.
The decedent also provides a bequest of $1200. to said Woodlawn Cemetery upon a trust to apply the income arising therefrom under the direction of the Directors to the repair, preservation or renewal of any tomb, monument or other structure, and the planting and cultivating of trees shrubs, flowers and plants in and around the said lot Southwest part of Number 11,473, in Section 21, in the cemetery grounds of said corporation, and to apply the surplus thereof, if any, to the improvement and embellishment of said lot. He further directs his executors to cause the name "Leggett" to be cut on the face of the monument in the aforesaid plot in the Woodlawn Cemetery and suitable markers to be erected for the graves of his wife and himself.
He names as executors Richard T. Greene, the deponent, and Lawyers Title & Trust Company (now Lawyers Trust Company).
The only heirs at law and next of kin of said Clinton H. Leggett, deceased, are Howard Clapp Leggett, of 450 North Broad Street, Elizabeth, New Jersey, a nephew, Milton W. Leggett of Bradford Woods, Pennsylvania, a nephew, and Helen L. Corbett, of 314 North Homewood Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, a niece.
Richard T. Greene (signed)
Sworn to before me this )
:
14th day of July, 1937. )
Hildur R. Dunham
Notary Public
Seal
[Stamped RECEIVED by the Woodlawn Cemetery Office, July 24 8:21/22 am 1937]
April 15, 1938.
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The Woodlawn Cemetery
233rd Street & Webster Avenue,
Bronx, New York City.
Dear Sirs:
Kindly make the following notation in your lot-book opposite deed number 16485 in connection with lot number South West part 11473 standing in the names of Clinton H. Leggett and Josephine L. Leggett, his wife: -
April 15th 1938 - Lot returned to the Cemetery in Trust by the will of Clinton H. Leggett, sole surviving owner - for the exclusive interment of the remains of the following persons: - Clinton H. Leggett, Josephine Louise Leggett, Margaret Morgan, John J. Morgan and Florence H. Lesley. Certified copy of the Will on file with Bequest #1673.
Very truly yours,
By H.N. Edwards
Assistant Secretary.
Apr. 19. 38
Pasted in lot-book
L. Nottage
JAD
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<b>Clinton Huggins Leggett
</b>Birth 26 Jul 1847 Westchester County, New York, USA
Death 1937 (aged 89-90) Asbury Park, Monmouth County, New Jersey, USA
Burial Woodlawn Cemetery Bronx, Bronx County, New York, USA
Plot Lot S. W. 11473, Sec. 21, Brookside
Memorial ID 137066962
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