THE TOUR OF THE TOWN
Monday, May 7, 1888 Albany Evening Journal
With the temperature in the seventies, the sun shining from a clear sky and a westerly breeze of just sufficient force to make pedestrianism delightful, people flocked from the houses to the streets yesterday. The streetcars running in the suburbs were crowded from morning until long after dusk. The scene in the park was an animated one, especially on the terraces and about the lake house. The big fountains in the lake threw up their solid streams of water into the air, only to have them return in glittering spray to the surface. The boulevard was more than well patronized, and the gypsy encampment at its junction with Washington avenue, a magnet that drew large crowds, especially girls and women. The few males who lounged about and watched others pitch pennies and trade horses included a JOURNAL man. It was not that he wanted his fortune told or to swap horses; he was seeking novelty. His steps, like those of other people, there, had been guided by some unforeseen power, and had he been asked why he chose the gypsy village, he would have been at a loss for an explanation.
The Stanley family, consisting of mother, father and two sons, are of that class of gypsies that prefer to remain in one locality for a long period, rather than keep on the go constantly. These people came here from England some years ago, and though they have been about cities a good deal of their time, and mingled freely with people in the common walks of life, they cannot break themselves of the Romanic dialect. The parent, though old, is erect, and has a ruddy, healthful face. His better half has jet black hair which is plastered against her temples. Her face, like that of her husband, has much color.
The younger members of the party are very popular with a large class of Albanians. They are genuine gypsies and will "swap" anything from a jackknife to a horse, but they are classed as honorable in their dealings. Both are fine types of gypsy manhood, with bronzed complexions and erect forms. This band had traveled all over the world and has at last become almost domesticated. It was their custom in the North to travel in summer and live in a city house during the winter. A few years since they passed the cold months of several winters in houses in the western part of the city. Last spring the band appeared at the corner of the boulevard and Washington avenue. Complaint was made against them, but nothing wrongful in their actions or business could be discovered and so the band was permitted to remain a certain length of time. Before this expired they bought the plot of ground on which they were encamped and remained on it all last summer. In the winter they went to their farm house near the Shakers, only to return to their camp here as soon as the weather would permit this spring.
The site of the camp is very sandy. The wagons of the family stand about in much the same order, or disorder, that those of a circus do. Horses of different kinds were tied to saplings, and dogs of many breeds lay curled at the end of chains under wagons against fences and in holes scooped out of the sand yesterday. The men busied themselves mending harness, doing chores, or in conversation, while the women in frocks and aprons of high hues lugged firewood, told fortunes and smoked their pipes. The women remained within their tents, save when some duty called them forth.
The tents were not in keeping with the wagons of the band. They were old and grimy and sadly patched. The canvas of which they were composed had seen its best days. From the rear of the tents through the canvas protruded common iron stovepipe, from which smoke curled. Two of these pipes had a joint upward above the elbow, the other was content to end with the elbow. The cooking is done on small wood stoves, and these pipes were attached to them. Within the tents everything looked clean, and was in striking contrast with things about the exteriors. The wagons used as sleeping apartments were nearly new and of excellent make. The box above the wheels extended over them, giving additional space enough within for a grown person to lie crosswise of the wagon. The interior of one of these wagons resembles a state room on a steamboat. The bunk was divided from the dressing part with lace curtains and lambrequins, and at the small windows in the three closed sides hung lace curtains caught back gracefully. The interior of these wagons, which are the sleeping quarters, are the pink of cleanliness and had an inviting appearance.
Gypsy Encampment - Glenwood Road (Bethesda, Maryland, 1888), Library of Congress
Previously: Gypsy Camps were known in Bath-on-the-Hudson and all around the Capital region.