The Condenser: Kit Burns' Rat Pit

Monday, June 22, 2009

Kit Burns' Rat Pit

Today, the name Kit Burns means nothing to all but the most historically-minded New Yorkers. In the middle of the 19th Century, though, he was a notorious figure known across the continent for his establishment at #273 Water Street, near the approach to the Brooklyn Bridge. Referred to by locals as Kit Burns' Rat Pit or, occasionally, Kit Burns' Dog Pit, it was in fact both. I'll let James McCabe elaborate, in his The Secrets of the Great City (1868).

In walking through Water street, you will notice a plain brick building, rather neater in appearance than those surrounding it. The lower part is painted green, and there is a small gas lamp before the door. The number, 273, is very conspicuous, and you will also notice the words over the door, rather the worse for exposure to the weather, "Kit Burns", "Sportsman's Hall."

The ostensible business of Kit Burns, is that of a tavern keeper, and it is said that his house is well kept for one of its class. The bar does a thriving business, and is well stocked with the kind of liquor used in Water street. Attached to the tavern, however, are the principal attractions of the place to those who frequent it. These are the rat and dog pits.

THE RAT PIT.

Rats are plentiful along the East Eiver, and Burns has no difficulty in procuring as many as he desires. These and his dogs furnish the entertainment, in which he delights. The principal room of the house is arranged as an amphitheatre The seats are rough wooden benches, and in the centre is a ring or pit, enclosed by a circular wooden fence, several feet high. A number of rats are turned into this pit, and a dog of the best ferret stock is thrown in amongst them. The little creature at once falls to work to kill the rats, bets being made that she will destroy so many rats in a given time. The time is generally "made" by the little animal, who is well known to, and a great favorite with, the yelling blasphemous wretches who line the benches. The performance is greeted with shouts, oaths, and other frantic demonstrations of delight. Some of the men will catch up the dog in their arms, and press it to their bosom in a frenzy of joy, or kiss it as if it were a human being, unmindful or careless of the fact that all this while the animal is smeared with the blood of its victims. The scene is disgusting beyond description.

Image of Kit Burns' establishment via Terrierman.com