Stephen H. Branch's Alligator, Vol. 1 no. 13, July 17, 1858

In Short

This volume is a collection of editorial dispatches and personal narratives written by Stephen H. Branch, a mid-nineteenth-century New York City publisher, activist, and self-styled gadfly. It captures the frantic, corrupt, and highly polarized atmosphere of New York politics in the late 1850s, blending autobiographical sketches of political agitation with aggressive critiques of public figures like Horace Greeley and Mayor Daniel Tiemann. It has lasted as a rare, unfiltered window into the performative, hyper-partisan, and often bizarre world of the antebellum urban press.

The Story

The narrative arc of this volume functions as a series of combative vignettes, beginning with Branch’s own life story. He recounts a breakfast at the Graham House, where he sat near Frederick Douglass. Branch describes his own profound outrage at seeing a white proprietor host a Black guest, an event he admits was the catalyst for a public feud with Horace Greeley. Rather than engaging directly, Branch maneuvered others—notably Major Mordecah M. Noah—into attacking Greeley, setting off a "gladiatorial collision" of print and reputation that Branch watched from the sidelines while struggling with his own health and finances.

From these personal grievances, the narrative shifts to historical and political accounts of the Dorr Rebellion in Rhode Island. Branch describes his participation in the conflict, painting himself as a reluctant, dyspeptic soldier terrified of firing his musket at his own countrymen. He captures the absurdity of his internal state: he fears both the "Dorr women" who mocked his company and the looming prospect of a violent confrontation with the insurgents. He details his moral dilemma, eventually resolving to fire only powder to avoid killing, yet he remains trapped by his own military obligation.

The focus then turns to the local corruption of New York City in the 1820s and 1850s. Through a dramatic, script-like dialogue, Branch depicts a primary election at a "grocery-groggery," where the candidate Peter Cooper negotiates with a rough-hewn operative named Jack to secure votes through bribery and intimidation. The scene descends into farce and violence when a rival gang, led by a murderer named Ned, storms the shop, leaves Cooper a bloody mess, and demonstrates the raw, physical reality of urban machine politics.

Finally, the book pivots to a vitriolic attack on Mayor Daniel Tiemann, whom Branch portrays as a hypocrite and a traitor to the "American" cause. He prints a 1843 political card to highlight Tiemann’s shifting loyalties, accusing the mayor of conspiring with immigrants and "ruffians" to consolidate power. The narrative concludes with a domestic drama involving a young man named John who refuses to lie for his employer, James Gordon Bennett, leading to a confrontation between the boy’s parents and their landlord. The volume ends on this note of defiant poverty and petty violence, cementing Branch’s view of a world divided between the righteous, the corrupt, and the fools who try to silence his paper.

How It Unfolds

The breakfast encounter Branch describes a chance meeting with Frederick Douglass that triggers a massive, public editorial war between himself and Horace Greeley. He positions himself as the instigator who remains hidden, manipulating rivals to dismantle his enemy’s reputation.

The Rhode Island skirmish The scene shifts to the Dorr Rebellion, where Branch serves in the City Guards against local insurgents. He depicts his service with dark humor, focusing on his own physical fragility and his desperate moral attempts to avoid shedding human blood.

The grocery-groggery election The narrative turns to a gritty, dialogue-driven account of a 1820 primary election in New York. The scene illustrates how candidates like Peter Cooper relied on alcoholic bribery and gang violence to manipulate the outcome of the vote.

The attack on Tiemann Branch transitions into a direct political broadside against the current mayor. He reprints old campaign materials to expose what he calls the "trickery and treachery" of the administration, labeling the mayor a hypocrite who abandoned his nationalist principles.

The moral of John Kelly The volume concludes with a sentimental and violent story about a clerk who quits his job rather than lie. It serves as a final testament to the author’s belief in individual integrity against the corrupting influence of powerful media moguls.

The People

Stephen H. Branch is the central, pervasive presence—a man who views himself as a noble, dyspeptic warrior for the truth, constantly embroiled in conflicts he claims to have sparked. He is sensitive, prone to "plaintive importunity," and obsessed with the perception of his own influence. Horace Greeley appears as a "conciliatory" but formidable giant of the press, whose "transcendental talents" command Branch’s grudging respect even during their vicious fights. Peter Cooper is rendered as a cowardly, deceitful political operator, willing to hide behind rum casks when his own hired thugs turn against him. Ned, the brutal gang leader, represents the violent, uncontrollable underside of the political machine. Finally, the young John Kelly stands as a paragon of youthful integrity, sacrificing his own family’s security to maintain a moral purity that contrasts sharply with the mendacity of his boss, James Gordon Bennett.

In Its Own Voice

"I stared at Goss and Fred and lady and at Greeley, who gave me a sly glance, and ate his bran mush and molasses as though nothing unusual was transpiring."

Branch describes the surreal moment he witnessed Frederick Douglass dining in a New York boarding house.

"I actually envied the rebels who could escape from peril, while I could not, as I had a gun, cap and knapsack, and was hemmed in by my comrades."

Branch reflects on his own miserable, trapped state while standing in the ranks during the Dorr Rebellion.

"Stop my 'ALLIGATOR!' Eh? You could as easily dam the thundering torrents of Niagara, that have sublimely rolled into their rocky beds for unnumbered ages."

Branch defies the publishers and news dealers who attempted to suppress his newspaper.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an exploration of the power of the printed word to act as a weapon in a fractured, chaotic society. Branch is concerned with the nature of political "truth," which he treats as something that can only be forged through personal combat and public exposure. Beneath the plot, the reader finds an argument about the decline of American institutions; Branch views the corruption of the ballot box and the rise of the "foreign" influence in city government as signs of a dying republic. He asks whether a single, uncompromising individual—equipped only with a printing press—can successfully challenge the entrenched, hypocritical powers of the day.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of the American press or the evolution of New York City will find this volume deeply compelling. It is not a polite historical document; it is a raw, screaming, and often hilarious artifact. Reading it feels like being buttonholed by a brilliant but unstable stranger in a crowded 1850s tavern. The text is demanding, filled with period-specific insults, slang, and archaic references that may require patience. Branch’s attitudes—particularly his virulent, xenophobic "American Republican" politics—are jarring and reflect the deep-seated prejudices of his time. However, it is precisely this lack of sanitization that makes the book valuable. You do not read this for a balanced perspective; you read it for the voice. It captures the frantic energy of a man who believed his words could topple mayors and shape the nation. It stays with you because it is unrepentantly human, showcasing the petty grievances, the desperate vanity, and the genuinely high stakes of a life lived entirely on the attack. It is a rare, visceral look at how political identity was constructed and defended in an age of partisan warfare.