New York Times
February 10, 1935

The youthful residents of East 123d Street, near the murky Harlem River, were having a rather grand time at dusk yesterday shoveling the last of the recent snow into a gaping manhole.

Salvatore Condulucci, 16 years old, of 410 East 123d Street was assigned to the rim. His comrades would heap blackened slush near him, and he, carefully observing the sewer’s capacity, would give the last fine flick to each mound.

Suddenly there were signs of clogging ten feet below, where the manhole drop merged with the dark conduit leading to the river. Salvatore yelled: “hey, you guys, wait a minute,” and got down on his knees to see what was the trouble.

What he saw in the thickening dusk, almost caused him to topple into the icy cavern. For the jagged surface of the of the ice blockage below was moving; and something black was breaking through. Salvatore’s eyes widened; then he managed to leap to his feat and call his friends.

“Honest, it’s and alligator!” he exploded. Continue reading “Harlem Gator, 1935” →