This cinder block-sized description of New York City circa 1882 is actually a highly readable (or skim-able) collection of myriad tiny chapters, each discussing some element of the burgeoning metropolis: a park, a public figure, an institution, a tradition, etc. The scope is remarkably comprehensive, even though the topics are presented in no obvious sequence. The American obsessions of social, economic and civic advancement are evident throughout, and the sum effect of the many fragments is a compelling impression of a big, messy machine. The author obsessively lays out the salaries, prices and valuations for just about anyone or anything, and he describes the police, fire department, and other civic organizations in surprising detail, while other topics merely receive a dutiful overview. One of the most fascinating chapters (to me) examines in great detail the private balls that New York’s wealthy classes lavished on themselves when they could afford to. A particularly intriguing feature of the book—for those already intimately familiar with the geography—is that it precisely locates a great many buildings and sites that have since been demolished or relocated. Although most of the book is infused with McCabe’s irrepressible boosterism, a surprising number of the chapters are dedicated to poverty, crime, dissipation, and other urban maladies. He describes these all unflinchingly, and with a degree of regret to match his other enthusiasms. McCabe was at least a casual (mainstream?) racist and anti-semite, so there are a few cringe-inducing bits herein to suffer. Although the book is not profusely illustrated, a number of helpful drawings—mainly of prominent buildings now lost—are scattered throughout.
Captures the flavor of New York City in the 1880s in ways both good (first-hand descriptions of architecture and socio-economic conditions) and bad (hold your nose when the pawn-shop owners are described).